Robert Burton, author of "The Anatomy1 of Melancholy2," would have been despised by Overbury both as "a mere3 Fellow of a House" and as "a melancholy man," while to Milton he must have seemed one of those spiritual pastors4 whose "hungry sheep look up and are not fed," with sufficiency of sermons. Burton (born 1577) was of a landholding family, in Leicestershire, was educated at the grammar schools of Nuneaton and Sutton Coldfield, went to Brasenose, Oxford5, in 1593, and got a "studentship" (the House's name for a fellowship) at Christ Church. He never married, though he professes6 himself not ignorant of love, and he held one living in Leicestershire, and another in Oxford. He lived to do the work that he was born to do, "The Anatomy of Melancholy," first published in 1621, with great success and with a following of later and amplified7 editions. He escaped the Civil War, which hit no class of men harder than the clergy8, by dying in 1640.
Melancholy, we have seen, was then a literary and social fashion. Burton analysed it, reduced it to a vast number of classes or categories, explored all its causes, physical, pathological, amorous10, magical (witchcraft11), and "immediately from God"; all its cures, lawful12 and unlawful—incantation, prayer, diet, exercise; all its moral alleviations; all medical prescriptions—blood-letting, purging13, herbs; everything. He made an encyclop?dia of melancholy. The reader had but to ask, "What kind of melancholy is mine, amorous, worldly, witch-sent, or religious?" look up the right chapter, and forget his gloom in the[Pg 304] huge collection of anecdotes14 and curious, vast, classic, medical and pleasantly useless learning. "The Anatomy" was what Thackeray called "a bedside book," but for the inconvenience of the edition in folio. The modern reader escapes trouble by using Mr. Shilleto's edition in three handy volumes. To the modern reader trouble is otherwise caused by the abundance of Latin, and by endless names of authors whom all the world has, for the most part not unjustly, forgotten.
Under "Exercise Rectified15" will be found matter for Izaak Walton, matter on angling, from which pastime, says Nic. Heinselius, in his Silesiographia, the Silesians are so eccentric as to suck great pleasure. James Dubravius, an author dear to Walton, once met a Moravian nobleman in waders, "booted up to the groins," but this unworthy Earl was not angling, he was netting; or, as he described his pitiful pastime, "hunting carps". In England, says Burton, many gentlemen wade16 "up to the armholes," but not after salmon18, not in Frank's "glittering and resolute19 streams of Tweed" with salmon rod in hand. They are "hunting carps," a fish that loves the mud, a kind of ground-game. Burton admires "false flies," he does not appear to have used them much. But he is always wise, so much so that he steals the contemplative man's consolation20 (when his creel is empty) without acknowledgment, from the charming passage in the "treatise21 pertaining22 to fish," printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1496. This treatise influences all angling books, Leonard Mascal's, Walton's, and the rest.
Burton cannot have been a melancholy man; he was too laborious23 in omnivorous24 reading, and in writing was so copious26 and so pleasantly successful. His face, if his portrait at Brasenose be authentic27 (the ruff seems of an earlier date), is that of a pleasant old humorist. He is charitably disposed towards suicides; we know so little! He leaves them to the measureless mercy of Him who, understanding all, can pardon all. He is a very serious consoler of persons under religious despair; perhaps Cowper studied him unavailingly, Bunyan probably did not try his cures. It is vain, he says, to reason with the insane, the hallucinated, "who hear and see, many times, devils, bugbears, and Mormeluches,[Pg 305] noisome29 smells, etc.". He has prescribed for these curses when they arise from normal "internal causes". Sapphires30, chrysolites, carbuncles may be worn by the afflicted31: "Pennyroyal, Rue32, Mint, Angelica, Piony" may be exhibited. There is no harm in trying St. John's wort. The physician of the Emperor Augustus relied on betony. Where spirits haunt, fumigations are useful.
A stout33 Protestant, Burton has no belief in exorcisms, though Presbyterians used them in the eighteenth century. The clerical father of the poet James Thomson tried exorcism on a ghost, but failed, and was slain34 by a ball of fire, says legend.
Ye wretched, Hope!
Ye that are happy, Beware!
ends Burton.
Burton's style is admirable, if we do not weary of very long sentences, weighted with a dozen references to his queer authorities. But the art of skipping can meet the occasion, and Burton can write as tersely35 as any man when he pleases. If Burton left his rural parish to a curate, he preached well and wisely to the largest of congregations. If he really were, at heart, a melancholy moping man, he found happiness in the long task of his life; the book which teaches the lesson of the Vanity of Melancholy.
Herbert of Cherbury.
Born in 1583, the brother of George Herbert, the poet, Lord Herbert of Cherbury is best remembered for his curious and amusing autobiography36 (edited and published by Horace Walpole in 1764). Wealthy, beautiful, and, by his own account a desperate swordsman, Herbert was deaf in childhood, spoke38 late, and then asked his nurse how he had come into this world; for an answer to this problem "I could not imagine," and no wonder. He pursued his reflections on the theme of birth and death in Latin verse' and in prose. His soul, he averred39, had developed faculties40 "almost useless for this life," hope, faith, love, and joy. They must therefore be destined41 to higher employment upon subjects not transitory, "the perfect, eternal, and infinite". But he was[Pg 306] not orthodox, his "De Veritate," and "Religio Laici," both in Latin, are deemed heretical.
He was privately42 educated till he went to University College, Oxford, where he preferred Greek to Latin composition. While he was a very young undergraduate his father died, and he was married. He was all accomplished43; astrology and medicine, many languages and music were mastered by him, with fencing, of course: he dilates44 on the fencer's need of good feet and eyes, on the "lunge," and on equestrian45 duels46. Having provided himself with a family, Herbert went abroad, distinguished47 himself at the siege of Juliers under the Prince of Orange, snubbed de Balagny, a great French duellist48, behaved like a paladin, and writes of himself like a Bobadil. His triumphs with the sex are equally celebrated49, and a husband who deemed himself to be, but was not "injured," lurked50, to murder Herbert, in Scotland Yard, not now a favourite ambush51 for criminals. In the fight that followed of one man against five, Herbert, with a broken sword, fought in a manner to be described only by himself or Alexandre Dumas. If he fought like le brave Bussy, he was also favoured by a miracle like Colonel Gardiner, a miracle sanctioning the publication of his book, "De Veritate" (1624).
In 1629 he became a peer of England: in later politics he deserted52 the cause of Charles I: finding himself at 60 (1643) extremely debilitated53, and quite disinclined to draw his sword. He died in 1648: his "History of Henry VIII," much praised by Horace Walpole, was published in the following year. His verses, in which he uses the metre of "In Memoriam," were never so popular as his brother George's, but his autobiography is highly diverting in its exhibition of character.
Browne.
Thomas Browne, best known as Sir Thomas Browne, came of a Cheshire family. He was born in London on 19 October, 1605. Early left fatherless, "he was, according to the common fate of orphans," says Dr. Johnson, "defrauded55 by one of his guardians," who seems to have lacked opportunity to strip the orphan54 absolutely bare. Browne was educated at Winchester,[Pg 307] went on to Broadgates Hall, Oxford, graduated (1629), travelled in Ireland, took a doctor's degree at Leyden; is said to have practised medicine at Halifax, and about 1637 settled at Norwich for the fifty remaining years of his life.
His earliest and probably his most popular book, the "Religio Medici," appears to have been written about 1635-1637. Several transcripts57 existed; in 1642 one of them, imperfect enough, was printed without Browne's knowledge and consent, and was criticized by Sir Kenelm Digby and others. Browne therefore issued an authorized58 edition, and the work was extremely successful both in England and on the Continent.
Naturally this confessor of his private ideas about religion was attacked on all sides, as an atheist59, a papist, a deist, by the scribblers of the hostile sects61. Browne, in fact, was a Christian62 who did not, as at that time was especially common, regard hatred63 of all who differed with him about a surplice or a sermon as a holier thing than the virtue64 of charity.
In his preface he says that almost every man suffers by the Press, and that he "has lived to behold65 the highest perversion66 of that excellent invention," the King defamed, the honour of Parliament impaired67, a flood of printed falsehoods submerging everything, and carrying erroneous copies of Browne's private papers into the market. Browne opens his work by declaring that, in spite of his profession (and of the proverb, "one doctor out of three is an atheist"), he is a Christian, and a tolerant Christian. "Holy water and crucifix (dangerous to the common people) deceive not my judgment68, nor abuse my devotion at all. ...I should violate my own arm rather than a church; nor willingly deface the name of saint or martyr69. At the sight of a cross or crucifix I can dispense70 with my hat, but scarce with the thought or memory of my Saviour71."
At Norwich in the Cathedral the Puritans publicly destroyed and burned all works of art (including the organ), which they were pleased to regard as monuments of idolatry: a bitter sight for Browne. "I have no genius to dispute in religion," says he. As for "sturdy doubts and boisterous74 objections, wherewith the unhappiness of our knowledge too nearly acquainteth us, more of these[Pg 308] no man hath known than myself; which I confess I conquered, not in a martial76 posture77, but on my knees". In that world of frenzied78 pamphleteers, "hating each other for the love of God," the charm and fragrance79 of Browne's style, the "peace! peace!" which, like Falkland, he "ingeminates," his refined humour, and smiling pitying sympathy, and curiosity about all things knowable, made his book delightful80; and delightful to readers tolerant of exquisiteness81 in manner the "Religio Medici" can never cease to be.
We are astonished, to-day, as much by the things which Browne knows, or believes, as by those which he does not know and does not believe. "I do now know that there are witches" has a surprise in it, but what does he precisely82 mean by "witches"? "I think at first a great part of philosophy" (science) "was witchcraft." Here he agrees with modern writers who regard magic as an early and uninstructed sort of science. He believes in guardian56 angels, but his "metaphysics of them are very shallow," and, in modern terms, what he believes in is "the subconscious83 self". As for hell, "the heart of a man is the place the devils dwell in... Lucifer keeps his court in my breast. Legion is revived in me."
In short this good physician is a mystic: "we must therefore say that there is something in us that is not in the jurisdiction84 of Morpheus... we are somewhat more than ourselves in our sleep; and the slumbering85 of the body seems to be but the wakening of the soul!" a very old belief of the Greeks.
In "Pseudodoxia Epidemica," "Vulgar Errors" (1646), Browne's manner somewhat resembles that of Burton, but his medley86 of strange stories, scientific, pseudo-scientific, or plainly superstitious87, is even more entertaining and much more carefully and artfully written than "The Anatomy of Melancholy". He consciously aims at harmony and balance of style, and at selecting the right word (le mot propre), while he ranges over all ancient knowledge and modern fable88. "Many and false conceptions there are of mandrakes," and Browne thinks but little of them, and less of the false etymologies89 from which his age had not delivered itself. He is engaged, like the scholar in Lytton's novel "The Caxtons," on a "History of Human Error," and with his[Pg 309] humour, sympathy, learning, and irony90, he makes a most entertaining book.
His "Urn72 Burial" with "The Garden of Cyrus" (1658) begins with antiquarianism, and ends with the famous passages on the vanity of desiring "to subsist91 in lasting92 monuments". "But Man is a noble animal, splendid in ashes, and pompous93 in the grave, solemnising nativities and deaths with equal lustre94, nor omitting ceremonies of bravery in the infamy95" (infimy?) "of his nature." "The Garden of Cyrus" concerning the mystic virtues96 of the quincunx (like cinq in dice) is more fantastic and Pythagorean. The motto for the posthumously97 published "Christian Morals" might be selected from one line in its counsels,
Yet hold thou unto old Morality.
It wears better than the new article!
To know Browne's works is no small part of a liberal education. He lived in quiet and opulence98, "his whole house and garden being a paradise and cabinet of rarities," says Evelyn; he was much occupied in correspondence with the learned and with his eldest99 son, and with local history, till his death on 19 October, 1682.
Charles II had dubbed100 him knight101 at Norwich in 1671. Charles, in Dr. Johnson's phrase, had skill to discover excellence102, and virtue to reward it, with such honorary distinctions, at least, as cost him nothing.
CAROLINE PROSE.
Milton.
The greater part of Milton's prose works is so deeply concerned with politics, mainly religious or concerned with Church government, that it cannot easily be criticized without controversial interruptions, here out of place. His earliest important piece (1641) treats of the Reformation in England. It had never come up to Strafford's standard, Thorough, never shaken off "the rags of Rome"—that is Milton's theme. Nor, in Scotland, had reformation really been more successful, for the preachers claimed at least all the powers of the priests over the liberties of the subject.
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Milton at once attacks that which, to Laud103, was part of "the beauty of Holiness," Jewish and Catholic survivals of "fantastic dresses, palls104 and mitres, gold and gewgaws fetched from Aaron's old wardrobe". "The piebald frippery and ostentation105 of ceremonies" the Church styled "decency"; Henry VIII "stuck where he did". Under Edward VI, if his sister Mary were not to be persecuted106 most righteously, who were the slaves that interfered107 to secure for her liberty of conscience? Who but Bishops109! Bishops were therefore "followers110 of this world," they always were and always will be. You reply that they, Cranmer and Latimer, were also martyrs111? Well, says Milton, "What then?" A man may "give his body to the burning and yet not have charity". The Bishops had not charity, clearly, or they would have aided in depriving the Princess of freedom of conscience. Elizabeth, aided by Bishops, persecuted Puritans, but then Puritans have a right to freedom of conscience, for themselves, and a right to prevent other people from exercising the same privilege. If there are to be Bishops they must be of popular election, but when preachers with powers in some respects greater were elected by the people in Scotland, Milton did not approve of them either.
His next important tract112, The Apology for Smectymnuus (five preachers, Marshal, Calamy, Young, Newcomen and Spurstow, who had attacked Episcopacy), is of 1642. Bishop108 Hall, who, in youth, had boasted that he was the first English satirist113, had replied to the Five in his Defence of the Remonstrance114; Milton had answered; Hall in his turn published "A Modest Confutation," and Milton's Apology for Smectymnuus ensued. The adversary115 had made scurrilous116 remarks, had attacked Milton's manners and morals, quite causelessly, in the controversial fashion of the age. Milton replied that his adversary was a "rude scavenger," and then gave that account of his own way of life in youth which lends its value to this passage in the discussion. He had never haunted "bordelloes," houses of ill-fame; he calls the women who keep them "prelatesses". A Bishop, to Milton, is a male of the same species. As for the theatre he had seen his fellow-students act at college, "prostituting the shame of that ministry117, which either they had, or were nigh having, to the eyes[Pg 311] of courtiers and court ladies...." He had always, he declares, been a remarkably118 pure young man; hence his life-long love of romances of chivalry119, where every knight is bound by oath to defend, with his life if need be, the chastity of ladies. "The first and chiefest office of love begins and ends in the soul," he says nobly.
We need not dwell on his "Doctrine120 and Discipline of Divorce," written, it seems, a few weeks after his hapless marriage in 1643. If all men were Miltons and all women worthy17 of them, his doctrine of freedom of divorce would not have thorny121 consequences.
His "Tenure122 of Kings and Magistrates123" was published in February, 1649; Charles I had been slain on 30 January of that year. It is desirable, in a history of Literature, to "keep King Charles's head out of the Memorial".
In the "Areopagitica" (1644) Milton, defending freedom of printing against these friends of liberty, the then dominant124 Presbyterians, in many passages gives us the prose of a great poet. Here is a passage which must have irritated the Puritans who were not so after the manner of Milton.
"If we think to regulate printing, thereby125 to rectify126 manners, we must rectify our recreations and pastimes, all that is delightful to man. No music must be heard, no song be set or sung, but what is grave and Doric. There must be licensing127 dancers, that no gesture, motion, or deportment be taught our youth but what by their allowance shall be thought honest: for such Plato was provided of. It will ask more than the work of twenty licensers to examine all the lutes, and violins, and the guitars in every house; they must not be suffered to prattle129 as they do, but must be licensed130 what they may say. And who shall silence all the airs and madrigals, that whisper softness in chambers131? The windows also, and the balconies must be thought on; there are shrewd books, with dangerous frontispieces, set to sale; who shall prohibit them? shall twenty licensers? The villages also must have their visitors to inquire what lectures the bagpipe132 and the rebeck reads, even to the ballatry, and the gamut133 of every municipal fiddler, for these are the countryman's Arcadias and his Monte Mayors." The famous sentence "I cannot praise a fugitive134 and[Pg 312] cloistered135 virtue" is familiar to all memories, but such things are not common in his prose: the search for the limbs of slain and mutilated Truth compared to the search for the fragments of "the good Osiris" by Isis, might not have been written had Milton remembered the details of that savage136 fable, common to ancient Egypt and the Australian Arunta. His cause has triumphed, as triumph it must, in a world where no all-wise and infallible Licenser128 of Books can be found.
"The defence of the people of England" in answer to Salmasius's "Defence of the King," had not, perhaps, the right client. It was not the People of England who slew137 the King. Milton tells his own story of that unhappy reign138 (in "Eikonoklastes," his reply to "Eikon Basilike," attributed to Charles, really, as is believed, by Gauden) it may be read with more profit in the history of Mr. S. R. Gardiner. Milton declares the charge against the Scots of "selling their king" to be "a foul139 infamy and dishonour140". The Scots, every soul of them who had a touch of chivalry, took up the sword to cleanse141 the blot142, died on the field, or on the scaffold, or were sold as slaves, or were starved to death in Durham Cathedral. There are, in short there could not but be, noble and harmonious143 and stirring passages in Milton's prose; but poetry was his native language, and his themes were such as to place sobriety of view, and delicate discrimination of good and evil almost beyond his power. For, as Argyll said, of himself, he was "a distraught man in distraught times". Otherwise Milton, the proudest of men, would not have answered railing with railing.
Jeremy Taylor.
Among the pulpit orators144 of the seventeenth century, none has left a name more fragrant145 than Jeremy Taylor. His devotional works, such as "Holy Living," and still more "Holy Dying," are still in the hands of the devout146. But it is not easy to suppose that many readers who are not profound students of style in prose often read the many volumes of sermons, works of casuistry, and works of controversy147 which Jeremy has left. He is not of our world or way of thinking; he dwells, for example, on "special" and easily distinguishable "providences". Now when a[Pg 313] tempest flooded a river, so that Montrose's men could not cross and despoil149 the lands of a contemporary of Jeremy's, Brodie of Brodie, that devout Covenanter confided151 to his journal the occurrence of this "special providence148". But when the river fell, and Montrose crossed and drove the kye, Brodie remarks in his journal that we ought not to interpret the Divine Will, for we may be mistaken. Jeremy insists on his own interpretations152. "From Adam to the Flood, by the patriarchs were eleven generations; but by Cain's line there were but eight, so that Cain's posterity153 were longer lived: because God, intending to bring the flood upon the world, took delight to rescue his elect from the dangers of the present impurity154 and the future deluge155." In the same way Abraham lived five years less than his son Isaac, and Jeremy knows why. "The Jewish doctors" inform him that the idea was to prevent Abraham from seeing "the iniquity156 of his grandchild, Esau". Later, speaking of other times and lands, Jeremy says that "such fancies do seldom serve either the ends of truth or charity,"—for which he has the highest Authority in the Gospel.
We are no longer apt to reason as Taylor does about the Patriarchs, or on hundreds of other points, and this cannot but diminish our pleasure in reading his books. But he pleases us, exactly as Burton does in "The Anatomy of Melancholy," by illustrations drawn157 from his amazing knowledge of books. Thus, immediately after the passage last cited, he says "Pierre Cauchon died under the barber's hand: there wanted not some who said it was a judgement upon him for condemning158 to the fire the famous Pucelle of France, who prophesied159 the expulsion of the English out of the kingdom. They that thought this believed her to be a prophetess" (as she certainly was), "but others that thought her a witch, were willing to find out another conjecture160 for the sudden death of the gentleman." "The sudden death of the gentleman" is a courteous161 phrase to apply to Cauchon; and very unexpected in "The History of the Life and Death of the Holy Jesus". But whence did Jeremy get his story of Cauchon? From the Latin hexameters of Valerandus, a book so entirely162 out of the common way that perhaps not three persons in the England of to-day have read it.
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So our author runs on, telling of "that famous person and of excellent learning, Giacchettus of Geneva," whose morals were not Genevan, while his death was, in an extreme degree, remarkable163. Jeremy more than once insists that many thousand men were slain, in one night, in the Assyrian camp, for committing the offence of that famous person, Giacchettus. Nobody has ever found out his authority for his statement; he may have learned it "from the Jewish doctors". In any case, however entertaining and instructive his divine works may be, he often raises a smile which he never dreamed of provoking. Other times, other tastes!
Jeremy Taylor was born under James VI and I, was the son of a barber in Cambridge, and was baptized on 15 August, 1613. Unless he was christened two years after his birth, it is not plain how he could have been in his fifteenth year when (August, 1626) he was admitted to Caius College as a sizar (at Oxford, "servitor"); Jeremy's eloquence164 attracted the notice of Archbishop Laud, who had him made a Fellow of All Souls, Oxford (1636). At Oxford, a Cavalier University, Jeremy studied casuistry, the topic of his large book "Ductor Dubitantium," a Guide to the Doubting. In 1638, Jeremy obtained the cure of souls at Uppingham, and in the same year preached, in the University pulpit, a Guy Fawkes Day sermon. In 1639 he married. In 1640, Laud was impeached165 of treason; in 1642, as chaplain, Jeremy served under the standard of King Charles. Parliament abolished Bishops; Jeremy defended Episcopacy ("Of the Sacred Order of Episcopacy"). In February, 1645, he was captured in a Royalist defeat, but was protected by Lord Carbery, and became his private chaplain at Golden Grove167 in Carmarthenshire, where he was safe from the persecution168 of the friends of freedom of conscience that called themselves "the godly". At Golden Grove, though far from what had been his library, he wrote "An Apology for Liturgy169" (abolished by Parliament in 1645). In 1647 appeared his "Liberty of Prophesying," a plea for toleration. Such pleas always came from the religious party which was being persecuted, though, even when persecuted, the Covenanters always denounced "the vomit170 of toleration," their aim being, in power or out of power, to force all mankind to be presbyterian covenanters. The frenzy171 of armed religious[Pg 315] fanatics172 made Taylor, like Falkland, as described by Clarendon, "ingeminate peace! peace!" But he himself was to be in prisons often, under the persecution of the Commonwealth173, and when he unhappily became, under the Restoration, Bishop of Dromore in a covenanting174 part of Ireland, he replaced the Presbyterian ministers by Anglican clergymen.
Taylor's plea for toleration was an offence to all parties. These years of the King's disasters and death must have been bitterness to Taylor.
He now composed his work "The Great Exemplar," a Life of Christ, filled with persuasions176 to godliness, with reflections far fetched but charmingly phrased, and he did not disdain177 legends destitute178 of scriptural authority. "In the country of Thebais, whither they first arrived, the child Jesus being by design or providence carried into a temple, all the statues of the Idol73 gods fell down, like Dagon at the presence of the Ark, and suffered their timely and just dissolution and dishonour." The book makes no attempt at criticism, and is of an immense length: in those days "a great book" was not deemed "a great evil".
He also wrote his manual of devotion, "Holy Living" (1650), followed in 1651 by the more charming "Holy Dying". Sermons for each week in the year, sermons preached at Golden Grove, appeared in 1653. In 1655, "Unum Necessarium," a treatise on repentance179, was thought less than orthodox, and gave displeasure to the retired180 bishop to whom it was, without his permission, dedicated181. Jeremy had his doubts as to whether Man, after the Fall, was so abjectly182 and utterly183 corrupt184 a creature as other divines held him to be. From 1655 onwards he suffered much, losing his refuge at Golden Grove, reduced to extreme poverty, and now and again imprisoned185. In 1657 he lost two young sons. He wrote a work on Friendship for a very friendly lady, Katherine Philips, a poetess, called "The Matchless Orinda"; in this he quoted the ancients freely. Later, unfortunately, he was employed in Ireland as chaplain to Lord Conway at Portmore, and was much disturbed by the Presbyterian preachers. Then came the Restoration (29 May, 1660), and by 6 August, Taylor was sent to the Irish bishopric of Down and Connor, and Dromore,[Pg 316] where he was so troubled by the Presbyterians that he asked the Duke of Ormonde to let him withdraw to "a parsonage in Munster"; or to reorganize Trinity College, Dublin. But, after ejecting a number of the Presbyterian ministers, he died in September, 1667, worn out, it may be, by the civil and religious ferocities of his time.
Taylor's writings are by no means all of them very copiously186 decorated with ornaments187 of style, and musical with organ tones of language. Even when highly decorated, and when the music of his periods is prolonged, his sentences are lucid188. "So have I seen" (thus he introduces his similes), "a rose newly springing from the clefts189 of its hood37, at first it was fair as the morning, and full with the dew of heaven, as a lamb's fleece; but when a ruder breath had forced open its virgin190 modesty191, and dismantled192 its too youthful and unripe193 retirements194, it began to put on darkness, and to decline to softness and the symptoms of a sickly age; it bowed the head and broke its stalk; and at night, having lost some of its leaves and all its beauty, it fell into the portion of weeds and outworn faces." It is not Herrick's and Ronsard's lesson of the roses; with Taylor it is a persuasion175 to piety195, nor is any preacher more sweetly persuasive196. But Jeremy, though he wrote a work to persuade the Irish Catholics of the errors of Rome, did not alter their doctrines197, and, as to them that are "the godly party," "the good people of God," he speaks his mind thus: "They may disturb kingdoms, and break the peace of a well-ordered Church, and rise up against their fathers, and be cruel to their brethren, and stir up the people to sedition198; and all this with a cold stomach and a hot liver, with a hard heart and a tender conscience, with humble199 carriage and a proud spirit."
Preaching to "the little but excellent University of Dublin," Taylor laid before them every way by which men, since the Reformation, had sought religious peace and had failed to find it. The last way was toleration, "a way of peace rather than of truth". "If we cannot have both, for heaven's sake give us peace," was the view of some good men, but, as each sect60 thought that it possessed200 truth, each, as it had the opportunity, tried to make peace by forcing the others into conformity201. The godly "are[Pg 317] not content that you permit them; for they will not permit you, but rule over your faith, and say that their way is not only true, but necessary". Taylor gave his own counsel thus, "the way to judge of religion is by doing our duty; and theology is rather a Divine life than a Divine knowledge.... Let your adversaries202 have no evil thing to say of you, and then you will best silence them...." Leighton tried this method in Scotland, Taylor in Ireland, but who can number "all the horrid203 things they said" about these prelates in both countries!
Other Anglican divines can scarcely be treated within our space, of these Robert South (born at Hackney, 1634, and educated at Westminster and Christ Church) lived till 1716. He was in controversies204 often, and a rather tart205 critic of both Fuller and Jeremy Taylor; he had much force and not a little wit. Chillingworth, Hales, and others, are to us little more than shadows of great names, with Isaac Barrow, equally great in Greek and mathematics, and a preacher whom Charles II could hear with pleasure. Richard Baxter (1615-1691), whose conscience after the Restoration caused him to throw in his lot with the Nonconformists, by his "Saints' Everlasting206 Rest" (1650) won and deserved popularity; he shared with Glanvill and Henry More the love of a good ghost story, and has left on record an excellent death-wraith. Ralph Cudworth (1617-1688) and Henry More (1614-1687), in verse and prose a mystic and a Platonist or Neo-platonist, are still dear to a fit though limited audience.
Thomas Fuller.
Thomas Fuller, born (1608) like Dryden, later, at the village of Aldwinkle, is a writer of the same group as Jeremy Taylor and Sir Thomas Browne: that is, his manner is quaint75 and his matter is full of learning from all quarters. Though a Royalist and in orders, during the Civil War, he was not an extremist; and his humour and love of a jest qualified207 him for the post of a chaplain in a Cavalier army.
No great harm befell him when the Royal cause was ruined, but he died (1661) too soon after the Restoration to be rewarded or disappointed. His "Holy and Profane208 States" (1642) is a set[Pg 318] of sketches209 of historic characters; most readable, especially in the first edition, with the curious engravings. Despite the vivacity210 of Fuller's most popular work, he is but little read, in face of the hearty211 commendations of Charles Lamb, a critic who imparted his own merits to all his favourites. Fuller never could resist a joke, a humorous parallel or allusion212; and in works on serious subjects, "The Worthies213 of England," and "Church History," his severe contemporaries detected more than "a little judicious214 levity215". Fuller loved antiquarian details and historical study, but history to history as Amurath to Amurath succeeds, and Fuller is read, when he is read, for his quaintnesses and for the humour that runs away with him.
Hobbes.
It is impossible, within our space, to give an adequate account of the life and works of Thomas Hobbes. Born in April, 1588, when his mother's fear of the Spanish Armada is said to have hastened his appearance in this world, Hobbes lived into the reign of terror of the Titus Oates's Plot, in 1679. He was born at Malmesbury, the son of an unlettered clergyman, and, about 1603, went to Magdalen Hall, Oxford, where he liked neither the puritanism of the seniors, nor the roistering ways of the juniors. He took no interest in logic9 and philosophy as then taught in Oxford, and is said to have never seen an Euclid till he was middle-aged216. It might have been better for him had he never seen Euclid at all. Taking his degree in 1608, Hobbes became tutor in the family of the Earls of Devonshire (Cavendish), and, with a few interruptions, was their obliged friend till he died at Hardwick Hall, built by the famous "Bess of Hardwick," the she-jailer of Mary Queen of Scots.
Hobbes travelled with his pupil, making the acquaintance of foreign men of science. In England, in 1629, a man of 40, Hobbes published his first book, a translation of the great Athenian historian, Thucydides. The English is excellent, but the translation is extremely free, and of no use to the reader who desires a "crib," or literal version. The ideas of Thucydides about the qualities of a democracy, as in Athens, were congenial to Hobbes,[Pg 319] while the task of rendering217 into idiomatic218 English a writer so condensed as Thucydides, combined with study of the other classics, and practice in Latin prose composition, made up for the indolence of his youth. In 1631 he became tutor to the new young Earl of Devonshire, and gave him an admirable education, including law, astronomy, logic, rhetoric219 and the "opinions of a good Christian".
In 1634 he went to Paris, Florence, and Rome with his pupil, returning to England in 1637. He now, at 55, began to reckon himself as a philosopher in a kind of metaphysics, and physics about which he did not know much. An unfortunate accident had led him to read "Euclid," Book I, proposition 47. "Begad," said Hobbes, "this is impossible!" He pursued his studies, found out that it was possible, and became convinced that it is also possible to square the circle. Easy as it seems, this feat166 has never been accomplished with pedantic220 accuracy, and Hobbes, from about 60 to 80, was engaged in controversy on the subject.
Oxford mathematicians221, annoyed by his attacks on the University, replied with scientific precision, and such banter222 as mathematicians enjoy when they would be merry among themselves. In this long war, Hobbes was mercilessly handled, partly by way of discrediting223 his ideas in politics and religion. He had laid out for himself a system of the Universe, "Of the Body," "Of the Man," "Of the Citizen". In the political storm and stress of the Great Rebellion he wrote, in Latin, his book of "The Citizen," "De Cive," much of which he had already done, with other such work, in English.
These papers had been circulated; Hobbes thought himself in danger—it was "time for him to go," and in 1640 he fled to Paris. He hated Puritans without loving Bishops. In 1642 he published "De Cive"; he then turned to philosophy, and next worked at his great work on the relations of rulers and ruled, and on religion, called "Leviathan". In 1646-1647 he tutored Charles, Prince of Wales, in Jersey224, and Charles always liked him as a witty225 companion.
In 1647, believing himself to be on the point of death, he behaved in an orthodox manner. To the witness, Dr. Cosin, later Bishop of Durham, he always referred when his orthodoxy was[Pg 320] doubted. When Charles I had been slain, in 1649, Hobbes, who in 1650 had published his "Human Nature," the briefest Statement of his general view of mankind, thought of returning home, for now a Government, that of Cromwell, was firmly seated, and Hobbes's main political principle was "settled government".
By 1651 he had "Leviathan" fairly written out as a present for Charles II in Paris. But the King's advisers226 thought it a most unholy book (not that Charles himself cared, or had a bad opinion of Hobbes); he was rebuffed; he was afraid of being murdered for his religion (which, says De Quincey, "is a high joke; Tom Hobbes afraid of suffering for his religion!") and he fled back to England.
Hobbes, by 1655, had published his "De Corpore," and with that and "Leviathan," his most popular work, his philosophy of the Universe was before the public. He gives his natural history of religion, as (saving Christianity), the result of curiosity about First Causes, belief in ghosts (of which he is said to have been afraid), of superstitions227 about luck, and of priestly imposture228 designed to keep men in order. In politics he believes in an imaginary state of Nature, or anarchy229, from which men, who are naturally equals, sought shelter in a contract, never to be broken, with a sovereign power, in fact with the State, though Hobbes prefers a single despot. The sovereign is supreme230 in religion as well as in secular231 matters, and Hobbes hates nothing more than the so-called "Kingdom of Christ" of the Presbyterian preachers, which really, he says, means their own domination. Hobbes's general doctrine, with its reservations and subterfuges232, cannot be discussed here: it made enemies for him in every camp, religious and political, and now his unlucky mathematics were fallen upon, while he had an endless controversy with Bishop Bramhall on the Freedom of the Will.
At the Restoration Charles II renewed his friendly intercourse233 with his old tutor, granting, him a pension, when Hobbes could get it paid. In 1666 he was threatened with a persecution for heresy234, and went to church, but did not wait for the sermon.
His "Behemoth," a history of the Civil War, was suppressed by the King, and was posthumously published. He translated the "Iliad" and the "Odyssey235" into very poor verse; he wrote his[Pg 321] autobiography in Latin verse, and was still writing in 1679 when he died on 4 December.
The style of Hobbes is lucid and succinct236, without added ornaments. He had a clear idea of what he wanted to say, though inconsistencies appear as his mood varied237, or as his argument led him into difficult places. His ideas provoked many replies which pervade238 English literature for long after his death; but such exercises in psychology239 and metaphysics belong rather to the history of philosophy than of literature. The doctrine of Hobbes is not optimistic. "When all the world is overcharged with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is War, which provideth for every man, by victory or death." The idea is that expressed in a Greek poem "the Cypria," of about 750 b.c. Hobbes thought himself an authority on Epic240 poetry, among other things, and especially commended, in Davenant's "Gondibert," the really pleasing passage which describes the birth of love in the heart of Bertha. Hobbes expanded his ideas about the Epic in his translation of Homer. We do not know what he thought of "Paradise Lost".
Izaak Walton.
Born near Stafford in 1593, Izaak Walton went to London, lived in Fleet Street, two doors west of Chancery Lane, and was in business as an ironmonger. Donne the poet was then vicar of the neighbouring church of St. Dunstan's; Walton and he became friends: Walton was also intimate with Hales of Eton, Sir Henry Wotton, Bishop King, and Ben Jonson. In 1640 Walton's brief life of Donne, already quoted, was published. In 1651 Walton had the dangerous task of carrying secretly to a Royalist in London the smaller George jewel of Charles II, after the King's crushing defeat at Worcester, on 3 September. A Royalist and a sound Churchman (his wives were of the families of Cranmer and Ken), Walton's natural cheerfulness, his sincere religion, and his habit of angling "with N. and R. Roe," were needed to keep him from melancholy in the evil days of 1642-1660. But he, for a writer of his age, is strangely free from the melancholy then in fashion, and his "Compleat Angler," first[Pg 322] published in 1653, might have been composed in days of idyllic241 peace. This famous work is too well known to need description or praise. The natural history is as fantastic as that of Euphues, the instructions on angling come from a mere fisher with bait, but the beauty of the style, the sweetness of the thought, keep the book fresh as with lavender and rosemary. To later editions Charles Cotton and Colonel Venables added practical instruction on fly fishing, up stream, in clear water like Cotton's own Dove in Derbyshire. The brief biographies by Walton of Donne, Wotton, Herbert, Hooker, and Sanderson are little masterpieces in their manner.
Walton lived in old age at Farnham with Bishop Morley and then at Winchester where he doubtless fished with worm in the pellucid242 streams of the Itchen. Walton's connexion with a pastoral poem "Thealma and Clearchus," is of doubtful nature. Was he author, or did he edit the work of Chalkhill? He died at the age of 90, and is buried in Winchester Cathedral. Byron is almost the only critic who has thrown a stone at the kind memory of Izaak Walton, to which Wordsworth devoted243 a sonnet244.
John Bunyan.
The two writers of this period whose works now come most closely home "to men's bosoms245 and business" are John Bunyan and Izaak Walton. Copies of the little plain volumes clad in sheepskin which they published at a shilling or eighteen-pence, fetch spurns246 like £1000, more or less, when they come into the market. The masterpieces of both are constantly being republished, and though perhaps few people have a fairly good knowledge of the contents of "The Pilgrim's Progress," or "The Compleat Angler," yet most people have had these works in their hands.
The popularity of Bunyan, the non-resisting ever-preaching Dissenter247; and of Walton, the angling Churchman, rests to a great extent on their characters. Differing as they did about the right of Bishops to exist, and about Justification248 by Faith, could the two men have met, and kept off these topics, they would "have had good talk". Each had abundant humour, each was a keen observer of Nature and of human nature, each was a lover of[Pg 323] peace, each had a modest little fount of poetry within him. Of each it may be said, as of Scott, "he is such a friendly writer," and each is plain and intelligible249, Bunyan had no artifices250 of style, though Walton sometimes, by study, is able to rival the harmonies of Sip251 Thomas Browne.
Bunyan, who came of a very old landed family which had steadily252 lost all its lands to the last acre, was born in a cottage at Elstow, near Bedford, in 1628. He was taught reading and writing; and pursued his father's trade—that recommended by Mr. Dick for David Copperfield,—he was a brasier, or tinker, but not a wandering tinker. In early youth he was a leader in sports and games; you would have said "he wasna the stuff they made Whigs o'". Far from that, a native genius for expression first declared itself in his being "the ungodliest fellow for swearing"—which was not recognized as a literary exercise. He was under arms, like other lads of his age, but we have no reason to suppose that he was ever under fire, and his militia253 (Parliamentary, probably) was soon disbanded.
In his "Grace Abounding254 for the Chief of Sinners" (1666) he writes his religious autobiography; a work composed in prison, to which he was consigned255 because he would not cease to be instant in preaching. "The Philistines256 understand me not," he says in his Preface. He writes for lowly devotees, "Have you forgot the Close, the Milk House, the Stable, the Barn, and the like where God did visit your souls,"—with "terrors of conscience and fears of Death and Hell?" Even in his joyous257 youth, Bunyan had dreamed of "devils and wicked spirits," which probably did not trouble Shakespeare or Walton. At 9 years old he suffered from the nightmares that haunted R. L. Stevenson. His book is the most vivid description possible of the life of an imaginative lad, standing28 between gross pleasures and terrors of hell. A Voice and an Appearance came to him while playing at a kind of rudimentary cricket: he went on playing, but fell into religious hypochondria. The vividness of his imagination conjured258 up such scenery as he uses in his great Allegory: he beheld259 comforting words "that seemed to be writ25 in great letters," and so at last found consolation in faith.
Thus, and in his conflicts against the magistrates, he acted[Pg 324] and suffered, in his youth, all the adventures of his own Christian and Faithful, in "The Pilgrim's Progress" (published in 1678). He left an unfading picture of some elements in English society: seventy years later he might have been a Fielding. "He was a born novelist," it has been said: but the novels of his day were the interminable romances of the French type of Scudéry. His "Grace Abounding" is as brilliant in its way as the "Confessions260 of Saint Augustine". His secular characters in "The Pilgrim's Progress" are as good, by way of sketches, as are the finished portraits in "Tom Jones".
In 1680 he published "The Life and Death of Mr. Badman"; in which Mr. Wiseman gives convincing reasons for his opinion "that Mr. Badman has gone to Hell". Mr. Badman, in life's gay morn, like St. Augustine, had "great pleasure in robbing orchards261 and gardens". "The beginning of the Lord's Day was, to Mr. Badman, as if he was going to prison." As for his eloquence he was "a Damme Blade". In literature his taste was all for "beastly Romances". In church he either slept or flirted262, like Mr. Pepys. In the long run, Mr. Badman departed from his prodigal263 life, "quietly, peaceably, and like a lamb". It cannot be said of Mr. Badman that he had no redeeming264 vices265; he was ill-tempered and envious266; he occasionally went on the High Toby lay, and his masterpiece was a fraudulent bankruptcy267. Mr. Badman is amusing, but his history, interwoven with many strong and simple anecdotes of other ruffians, cannot be compared in merit with "The Pilgrim's Progress," where the characters are so many and various; the imagination so vivid, many passages so rich in poetic268 qualities, and the language so simple. It is a great prose epic, a great novel of the road; and beside it "The Holy War" is tame and indistinct.
Bunyan wrote many works, now forgotten, on religious themes, and in controversial style his weapon was the cudgel. In his later days he was the most popular of Dissenting269 preachers. He died just before "King James was walked out of his kingdom," in 1688. If critics sneered270 at Bunyan throughout the nineteenth century, Dr. Johnson, at least, heartily271 appreciated the genius of the Non-conformist brasier.
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With Bunyan-the student of the religious ferment272 of England in his age may well read the "Journal" of the founder273 of the Society of Friends, Quakers, George Fox (1624-1691). Like Bunyan, Fox was an untrained thinker and author; like Bunyan he was persecuted: he had not the genius, but he had the art of Bunyan in drawing "with his eye on the object".
Clarendon.
Edward Hyde, later Earl of Clarendon (1609-1674) of a Cheshire family, was educated at Magdalen Hall, in Oxford, and proceeded to the Middle Temple. He inherited his family's property, was distinguished for his legal knowledge, sat in Parliament when the strife274 between the King and the Parliament began, and took part in preparing the indictment275 against the great Strafford. None the less, when a general attack was made on the order of Bishops, he came over to the King's party, in 1641; and in 1646 accompanied the young Prince of Wales in his flights and wanderings, in March, to the Scilly Isles276 (where he began his History), and presently to Jersey. He remained with Charles II after the death of Charles I, and, if he and Montrose had been heard, the young King would never have disgraced himself by signing the Covenant150; and consequently his Cause would never have been defeated at Dunbar, nor his very life imperilled after Worcester fight.
Clarendon, seven years after the Restoration, was banished277 by the influence of faction278, as Thucydides was exiled at an early period of the war which he chronicles. It is not conceivable that histories written in such circumstances should be free from partisanship279 and bias280: in fact no historians are exempt281 from prejudice.
Clarendon's history was, in the making, somewhat of a patchwork282. What he wrote far away from books and papers, in 1646-1648, depends much on his memory: the book improves when he obtains contemporary narratives283 and letters. In exile, in 1668-1670 he wrote a Life of himself, which he later interwove with his "History of the Rebellion". Clarendon's heirs did not permit the publication of his History till 1704, from regard to the feelings of the descendants of the King's opponents. The book, in one[Pg 326] respect, resembles the History of the Peloponnesian War by Thucydides. Much of it was written during the actual course of the events by one who bore a great part in them.
Whether in favour or in exile, Clarendon was too loyal to say all that he knew and thought about Charles I and Charles II. But when we look at his pages "touching284 the Scottish Canons," which preceded the despotic introduction of the Liturgy, the cause of "the Bishops' wars" (1639), we perceive, the fairness of Clarendon. He makes it perfectly285 clear that these Canons could only be accepted by a people inclined tamely to endure the worst excesses of tyranny. But, on Scottish affairs, Clarendon is not always trustworthy; for example he dislocates the dates as to the General Assembly of 1638, permitted (though he does not say so) by the King, and the subscribing286 of the Covenant, which he places after the Assembly. Mr. Gardiner, a fair historian, speaks of Clarendon's "usual habit of blundering". In his remarks on the Catholics, too, under Charles I, Clarendon can scarcely be acquitted287 of unfairness; considering how bitterly, in Scotland at least, they were persecuted under Charles I, and how loyally they stood by him.
However, a historical examination of Clarendon's great work is not here in place. The occasional defect of his style is the enormous bulk of some of his sentences. Two occupy two large pages and each contains some 400 words. Here are structureless agglutinations of parentheses288: with the promising289 word "lastly" left stranded290 far from the conclusion. But such examples are not very common, and Clarendon describes action and intrigue291 with lucidity292, and especially excels in his set pieces, delineations of characters, for example of Cromwell[1] and Argyll. His "characters" may not be exact, of course, but his knowledge of secret motives293 was extensive, and such knowledge, if not always accurate, is ever entertaining. All histories, as sources of knowledge, are sure to be superseded294 by the discoverer of new information. But the History of Clarendon can never cease to be of the highest interest, moral, political, and personal. He possessed, in his own[Pg 327] words, "the genius, spirit, and soul of an historian," combined with knowledge of great affairs, important personages, and intrigues295 of Court.
Among writers of prose of the age it would be ungrateful not to mention an author so familiar and readable as the gossiping James Howell (1594-1666) of the "Epistol? Ho-Elian?," a favourite bedside book of Thackeray. Howell was imprisoned by the Puritans, and wrote essays in form of letters which are full of curious anecdotes and reminiscences of travel.
Much later comes the prince of gossips, Mr. Samuel Pepys (1633-1703), whose Diary in shorthand, written for his personal diversion, can never cease to divert, and, in a way, as a picture of a strange age and a strange character, to instruct. Each new dip into Mr. Pepys's manuscript, by each bolder editor, makes us like him less from the extended candour of his unparalleled confessions, which is a pity.
John Evelyn (1620-1706) depicts296 the same period as Pepys, as it was seen by a gentleman of stainless297 honour, unblemished virtue, and great curiosity in the arts, and in the nascent298 science. His Diary is much more entertaining than his memoir299 of the Lady in the "Comus" of the merry Monarch's Court, the lovely and religious Mistress Margaret Godolphin (née Blague), to whom Evelyn was virtuously300 devoted.
Roger North (1653-1733), is admirably readable, and very modern in the tone of his satire301 of the godly Whigs, in the "Examen,"—when he drops into slang it is with the careless grace of Thackeray. His "Lives of the Norths," himself and his brothers, is most interesting.
[1] To him he attributes a coarse pun which might seem more familiar in the mouth of James I.
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1 anatomy | |
n.解剖学,解剖;功能,结构,组织 | |
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2 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
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3 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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4 pastors | |
n.(基督教的)牧师( pastor的名词复数 ) | |
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5 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
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声称( profess的第三人称单数 ); 宣称; 公开表明; 信奉 | |
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7 amplified | |
放大,扩大( amplify的过去式和过去分词 ); 增强; 详述 | |
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8 clergy | |
n.[总称]牧师,神职人员 | |
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9 logic | |
n.逻辑(学);逻辑性 | |
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10 amorous | |
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11 witchcraft | |
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12 lawful | |
adj.法律许可的,守法的,合法的 | |
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13 purging | |
清洗; 清除; 净化; 洗炉 | |
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14 anecdotes | |
n.掌故,趣闻,轶事( anecdote的名词复数 ) | |
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15 rectified | |
[医]矫正的,调整的 | |
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17 worthy | |
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18 salmon | |
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19 resolute | |
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20 consolation | |
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21 treatise | |
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22 pertaining | |
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23 laborious | |
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24 omnivorous | |
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25 writ | |
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26 copious | |
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27 authentic | |
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29 noisome | |
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30 sapphires | |
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31 afflicted | |
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n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
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40 faculties | |
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41 destined | |
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43 accomplished | |
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45 equestrian | |
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48 duellist | |
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51 ambush | |
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52 deserted | |
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53 debilitated | |
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54 orphan | |
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55 defrauded | |
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56 guardian | |
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57 transcripts | |
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58 authorized | |
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59 atheist | |
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60 sect | |
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n.宗派,教派( sect的名词复数 ) | |
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62 Christian | |
adj.基督教徒的;n.基督教徒 | |
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63 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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64 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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65 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
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66 perversion | |
n.曲解;堕落;反常 | |
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67 impaired | |
adj.受损的;出毛病的;有(身体或智力)缺陷的v.损害,削弱( impair的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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68 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
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69 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
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70 dispense | |
vt.分配,分发;配(药),发(药);实施 | |
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71 saviour | |
n.拯救者,救星 | |
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72 urn | |
n.(有座脚的)瓮;坟墓;骨灰瓮 | |
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73 idol | |
n.偶像,红人,宠儿 | |
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74 boisterous | |
adj.喧闹的,欢闹的 | |
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75 quaint | |
adj.古雅的,离奇有趣的,奇怪的 | |
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76 martial | |
adj.战争的,军事的,尚武的,威武的 | |
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77 posture | |
n.姿势,姿态,心态,态度;v.作出某种姿势 | |
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78 frenzied | |
a.激怒的;疯狂的 | |
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79 fragrance | |
n.芬芳,香味,香气 | |
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80 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
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81 exquisiteness | |
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82 precisely | |
adv.恰好,正好,精确地,细致地 | |
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83 subconscious | |
n./adj.潜意识(的),下意识(的) | |
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84 jurisdiction | |
n.司法权,审判权,管辖权,控制权 | |
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85 slumbering | |
微睡,睡眠(slumber的现在分词形式) | |
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86 medley | |
n.混合 | |
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87 superstitious | |
adj.迷信的 | |
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88 fable | |
n.寓言;童话;神话 | |
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89 etymologies | |
n.词源学,词源说明( etymology的名词复数 ) | |
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90 irony | |
n.反语,冷嘲;具有讽刺意味的事,嘲弄 | |
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91 subsist | |
vi.生存,存在,供养 | |
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92 lasting | |
adj.永久的,永恒的;vbl.持续,维持 | |
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93 pompous | |
adj.傲慢的,自大的;夸大的;豪华的 | |
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94 lustre | |
n.光亮,光泽;荣誉 | |
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95 infamy | |
n.声名狼藉,出丑,恶行 | |
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96 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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97 posthumously | |
adv.于死后,于身后;于著作者死后出版地 | |
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98 opulence | |
n.财富,富裕 | |
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99 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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100 dubbed | |
v.给…起绰号( dub的过去式和过去分词 );把…称为;配音;复制 | |
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101 knight | |
n.骑士,武士;爵士 | |
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102 excellence | |
n.优秀,杰出,(pl.)优点,美德 | |
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103 laud | |
n.颂歌;v.赞美 | |
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104 palls | |
n.柩衣( pall的名词复数 );墓衣;棺罩;深色或厚重的覆盖物v.(因过多或过久而)生厌,感到乏味,厌烦( pall的第三人称单数 ) | |
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105 ostentation | |
n.夸耀,卖弄 | |
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106 persecuted | |
(尤指宗教或政治信仰的)迫害(~sb. for sth.)( persecute的过去式和过去分词 ); 烦扰,困扰或骚扰某人 | |
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107 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
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108 bishop | |
n.主教,(国际象棋)象 | |
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109 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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110 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
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111 martyrs | |
n.martyr的复数形式;烈士( martyr的名词复数 );殉道者;殉教者;乞怜者(向人诉苦以博取同情) | |
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112 tract | |
n.传单,小册子,大片(土地或森林) | |
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113 satirist | |
n.讽刺诗作者,讽刺家,爱挖苦别人的人 | |
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114 remonstrance | |
n抗议,抱怨 | |
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115 adversary | |
adj.敌手,对手 | |
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116 scurrilous | |
adj.下流的,恶意诽谤的 | |
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117 ministry | |
n.(政府的)部;牧师 | |
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118 remarkably | |
ad.不同寻常地,相当地 | |
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119 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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120 doctrine | |
n.教义;主义;学说 | |
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121 thorny | |
adj.多刺的,棘手的 | |
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122 tenure | |
n.终身职位;任期;(土地)保有权,保有期 | |
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123 magistrates | |
地方法官,治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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124 dominant | |
adj.支配的,统治的;占优势的;显性的;n.主因,要素,主要的人(或物);显性基因 | |
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125 thereby | |
adv.因此,从而 | |
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126 rectify | |
v.订正,矫正,改正 | |
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127 licensing | |
v.批准,许可,颁发执照( license的现在分词 ) | |
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128 licenser | |
n.认可证颁发者(尤指批准书籍出版或戏剧演出的官员) | |
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129 prattle | |
n.闲谈;v.(小孩般)天真无邪地说话;发出连续而无意义的声音 | |
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130 licensed | |
adj.得到许可的v.许可,颁发执照(license的过去式和过去分词) | |
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131 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
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132 bagpipe | |
n.风笛 | |
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133 gamut | |
n.全音阶,(一领域的)全部知识 | |
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134 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
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135 cloistered | |
adj.隐居的,躲开尘世纷争的v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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136 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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137 slew | |
v.(使)旋转;n.大量,许多 | |
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138 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
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139 foul | |
adj.污秽的;邪恶的;v.弄脏;妨害;犯规;n.犯规 | |
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140 dishonour | |
n./vt.拒付(支票、汇票、票据等);vt.凌辱,使丢脸;n.不名誉,耻辱,不光彩 | |
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141 cleanse | |
vt.使清洁,使纯洁,清洗 | |
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142 blot | |
vt.弄脏(用吸墨纸)吸干;n.污点,污渍 | |
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143 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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144 orators | |
n.演说者,演讲家( orator的名词复数 ) | |
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145 fragrant | |
adj.芬香的,馥郁的,愉快的 | |
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146 devout | |
adj.虔诚的,虔敬的,衷心的 (n.devoutness) | |
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147 controversy | |
n.争论,辩论,争吵 | |
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148 providence | |
n.深谋远虑,天道,天意;远见;节约;上帝 | |
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149 despoil | |
v.夺取,抢夺 | |
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150 covenant | |
n.盟约,契约;v.订盟约 | |
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151 confided | |
v.吐露(秘密,心事等)( confide的过去式和过去分词 );(向某人)吐露(隐私、秘密等) | |
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152 interpretations | |
n.解释( interpretation的名词复数 );表演;演绎;理解 | |
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153 posterity | |
n.后裔,子孙,后代 | |
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154 impurity | |
n.不洁,不纯,杂质 | |
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155 deluge | |
n./vt.洪水,暴雨,使泛滥 | |
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156 iniquity | |
n.邪恶;不公正 | |
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157 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
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158 condemning | |
v.(通常因道义上的原因而)谴责( condemn的现在分词 );宣判;宣布…不能使用;迫使…陷于不幸的境地 | |
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159 prophesied | |
v.预告,预言( prophesy的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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160 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
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161 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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162 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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163 remarkable | |
adj.显著的,异常的,非凡的,值得注意的 | |
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164 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
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165 impeached | |
v.控告(某人)犯罪( impeach的过去式和过去分词 );弹劾;对(某事物)怀疑;提出异议 | |
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166 feat | |
n.功绩;武艺,技艺;adj.灵巧的,漂亮的,合适的 | |
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167 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
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168 persecution | |
n. 迫害,烦扰 | |
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169 liturgy | |
n.礼拜仪式 | |
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170 vomit | |
v.呕吐,作呕;n.呕吐物,吐出物 | |
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171 frenzy | |
n.疯狂,狂热,极度的激动 | |
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172 fanatics | |
狂热者,入迷者( fanatic的名词复数 ) | |
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173 commonwealth | |
n.共和国,联邦,共同体 | |
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174 covenanting | |
v.立约,立誓( covenant的现在分词 ) | |
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175 persuasion | |
n.劝说;说服;持有某种信仰的宗派 | |
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176 persuasions | |
n.劝说,说服(力)( persuasion的名词复数 );信仰 | |
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177 disdain | |
n.鄙视,轻视;v.轻视,鄙视,不屑 | |
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178 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
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179 repentance | |
n.懊悔 | |
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180 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
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181 dedicated | |
adj.一心一意的;献身的;热诚的 | |
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182 abjectly | |
凄惨地; 绝望地; 糟透地; 悲惨地 | |
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183 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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184 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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185 imprisoned | |
下狱,监禁( imprison的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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186 copiously | |
adv.丰富地,充裕地 | |
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187 ornaments | |
n.装饰( ornament的名词复数 );点缀;装饰品;首饰v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的第三人称单数 ) | |
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188 lucid | |
adj.明白易懂的,清晰的,头脑清楚的 | |
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189 clefts | |
n.裂缝( cleft的名词复数 );裂口;cleave的过去式和过去分词;进退维谷 | |
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190 virgin | |
n.处女,未婚女子;adj.未经使用的;未经开发的 | |
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191 modesty | |
n.谦逊,虚心,端庄,稳重,羞怯,朴素 | |
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192 dismantled | |
拆开( dismantle的过去式和过去分词 ); 拆卸; 废除; 取消 | |
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193 unripe | |
adj.未成熟的;n.未成熟 | |
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194 retirements | |
退休( retirement的名词复数 ); 退职; 退役; 退休的实例 | |
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195 piety | |
n.虔诚,虔敬 | |
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196 persuasive | |
adj.有说服力的,能说得使人相信的 | |
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197 doctrines | |
n.教条( doctrine的名词复数 );教义;学说;(政府政策的)正式声明 | |
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198 sedition | |
n.煽动叛乱 | |
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199 humble | |
adj.谦卑的,恭顺的;地位低下的;v.降低,贬低 | |
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200 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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201 conformity | |
n.一致,遵从,顺从 | |
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202 adversaries | |
n.对手,敌手( adversary的名词复数 ) | |
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203 horrid | |
adj.可怕的;令人惊恐的;恐怖的;极讨厌的 | |
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204 controversies | |
争论 | |
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205 tart | |
adj.酸的;尖酸的,刻薄的;n.果馅饼;淫妇 | |
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206 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
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207 qualified | |
adj.合格的,有资格的,胜任的,有限制的 | |
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208 profane | |
adj.亵神的,亵渎的;vt.亵渎,玷污 | |
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209 sketches | |
n.草图( sketch的名词复数 );素描;速写;梗概 | |
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210 vivacity | |
n.快活,活泼,精神充沛 | |
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211 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
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212 allusion | |
n.暗示,间接提示 | |
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213 worthies | |
应得某事物( worthy的名词复数 ); 值得做某事; 可尊敬的; 有(某人或事物)的典型特征 | |
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214 judicious | |
adj.明智的,明断的,能作出明智决定的 | |
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215 levity | |
n.轻率,轻浮,不稳定,多变 | |
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216 middle-aged | |
adj.中年的 | |
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217 rendering | |
n.表现,描写 | |
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218 idiomatic | |
adj.成语的,符合语言习惯的 | |
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219 rhetoric | |
n.修辞学,浮夸之言语 | |
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220 pedantic | |
adj.卖弄学问的;迂腐的 | |
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221 mathematicians | |
数学家( mathematician的名词复数 ) | |
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222 banter | |
n.嘲弄,戏谑;v.取笑,逗弄,开玩笑 | |
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223 discrediting | |
使不相信( discredit的现在分词 ); 使怀疑; 败坏…的名声; 拒绝相信 | |
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224 jersey | |
n.运动衫 | |
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225 witty | |
adj.机智的,风趣的 | |
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226 advisers | |
顾问,劝告者( adviser的名词复数 ); (指导大学新生学科问题等的)指导教授 | |
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227 superstitions | |
迷信,迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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228 imposture | |
n.冒名顶替,欺骗 | |
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229 anarchy | |
n.无政府状态;社会秩序混乱,无秩序 | |
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230 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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231 secular | |
n.牧师,凡人;adj.世俗的,现世的,不朽的 | |
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232 subterfuges | |
n.(用说谎或欺骗以逃脱责备、困难等的)花招,遁词( subterfuge的名词复数 ) | |
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233 intercourse | |
n.性交;交流,交往,交际 | |
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234 heresy | |
n.异端邪说;异教 | |
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235 odyssey | |
n.长途冒险旅行;一连串的冒险 | |
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236 succinct | |
adj.简明的,简洁的 | |
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237 varied | |
adj.多样的,多变化的 | |
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238 pervade | |
v.弥漫,遍及,充满,渗透,漫延 | |
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239 psychology | |
n.心理,心理学,心理状态 | |
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240 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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241 idyllic | |
adj.质朴宜人的,田园风光的 | |
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242 pellucid | |
adj.透明的,简单的 | |
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243 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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244 sonnet | |
n.十四行诗 | |
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245 bosoms | |
胸部( bosom的名词复数 ); 胸怀; 女衣胸部(或胸襟); 和爱护自己的人在一起的情形 | |
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246 spurns | |
v.一脚踢开,拒绝接受( spurn的第三人称单数 ) | |
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247 dissenter | |
n.反对者 | |
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248 justification | |
n.正当的理由;辩解的理由 | |
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249 intelligible | |
adj.可理解的,明白易懂的,清楚的 | |
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250 artifices | |
n.灵巧( artifice的名词复数 );诡计;巧妙办法;虚伪行为 | |
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251 sip | |
v.小口地喝,抿,呷;n.一小口的量 | |
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252 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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253 militia | |
n.民兵,民兵组织 | |
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254 abounding | |
adj.丰富的,大量的v.大量存在,充满,富于( abound的现在分词 ) | |
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255 consigned | |
v.把…置于(令人不快的境地)( consign的过去式和过去分词 );把…托付给;把…托人代售;丟弃 | |
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256 philistines | |
n.市侩,庸人( philistine的名词复数 );庸夫俗子 | |
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257 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
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258 conjured | |
用魔术变出( conjure的过去式和过去分词 ); 祈求,恳求; 变戏法; (变魔术般地) 使…出现 | |
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259 beheld | |
v.看,注视( behold的过去式和过去分词 );瞧;看呀;(叙述中用于引出某人意外的出现)哎哟 | |
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260 confessions | |
n.承认( confession的名词复数 );自首;声明;(向神父的)忏悔 | |
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261 orchards | |
(通常指围起来的)果园( orchard的名词复数 ) | |
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262 flirted | |
v.调情,打情骂俏( flirt的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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263 prodigal | |
adj.浪费的,挥霍的,放荡的 | |
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264 redeeming | |
补偿的,弥补的 | |
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265 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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266 envious | |
adj.嫉妒的,羡慕的 | |
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267 bankruptcy | |
n.破产;无偿付能力 | |
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268 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
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269 dissenting | |
adj.不同意的 | |
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270 sneered | |
讥笑,冷笑( sneer的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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271 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
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272 ferment | |
vt.使发酵;n./vt.(使)激动,(使)动乱 | |
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273 Founder | |
n.创始者,缔造者 | |
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274 strife | |
n.争吵,冲突,倾轧,竞争 | |
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275 indictment | |
n.起诉;诉状 | |
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276 isles | |
岛( isle的名词复数 ) | |
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277 banished | |
v.放逐,驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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278 faction | |
n.宗派,小集团;派别;派系斗争 | |
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279 Partisanship | |
n. 党派性, 党派偏见 | |
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280 bias | |
n.偏见,偏心,偏袒;vt.使有偏见 | |
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281 exempt | |
adj.免除的;v.使免除;n.免税者,被免除义务者 | |
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282 patchwork | |
n.混杂物;拼缝物 | |
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283 narratives | |
记叙文( narrative的名词复数 ); 故事; 叙述; 叙述部分 | |
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284 touching | |
adj.动人的,使人感伤的 | |
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285 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
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286 subscribing | |
v.捐助( subscribe的现在分词 );签署,题词;订阅;同意 | |
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287 acquitted | |
宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 ); 使(自己)作出某种表现 | |
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288 parentheses | |
n.圆括号,插入语,插曲( parenthesis的名词复数 ) | |
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289 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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290 stranded | |
a.搁浅的,进退两难的 | |
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291 intrigue | |
vt.激起兴趣,迷住;vi.耍阴谋;n.阴谋,密谋 | |
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292 lucidity | |
n.明朗,清晰,透明 | |
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293 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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294 superseded | |
[医]被代替的,废弃的 | |
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295 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
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296 depicts | |
描绘,描画( depict的第三人称单数 ); 描述 | |
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297 stainless | |
adj.无瑕疵的,不锈的 | |
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298 nascent | |
adj.初生的,发生中的 | |
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299 memoir | |
n.[pl.]回忆录,自传;记事录 | |
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300 virtuously | |
合乎道德地,善良地 | |
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301 satire | |
n.讽刺,讽刺文学,讽刺作品 | |
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