Capital letter I
IT will not be possible in a biography so short as this, to give a detailed2 account of the wandering, adventurous3 life led by Mme. de Genlis after the severance4 of her connection with the Orléans family.
She had now only her niece, Henriette, with her, and they set out again upon their travels. M. de Valence, after serving the revolutionists, had been proscribed5 by them, and was living in exile at Utrecht. There, accordingly, they joined him, and set up a joint6 ménage, first there, afterwards at Altona and at Hamburg.
It was whilst Mme. de Genlis was in Altona that she heard of the fall of Robespierre and the deliverance of her daughter. She was then living in a boarding-house, or inn, kept by a certain Mme. Plock, where she spent a good deal of time; and about one o’clock one morning she was sitting up in her room, writing, when she suddenly heard a [450] violent knocking at her door, and the voice of M. de Kercy, a peaceable friendly acquaintance of hers, whose room was close by, called out—
“Open the door! Open the door! I must embrace you.”
Thinking he must have lost his senses she did nothing of the sort, and again he cried out—
“It is you who will embrace me! Open the door! Open the door!”
At length she did so, and M. de Kercy, flinging himself upon her neck, exclaimed—
“The tyrant is no more! Robespierre is dead!”
Mme. de Genlis some time afterwards married her niece, Henriette de Sercey, to a rich merchant in Hamburg, after which she went to Berlin, but where she was denounced to the King, accused, without truth, of receiving the Abbé de Sieyès, then in Berlin, and ordered to leave the Prussian territory.
Then she went back to Hamburg, where she found her niece happy and prosperous, and where Lady Edward Fitzgerald, who was always devoted8 to her, came to pay her a visit, greatly to her delight.
Next she went to Holstein with M. de Valence who left her in an old castle, with the owners of which she formed an intimate friendship, and after staying there some weeks she took rooms in a farm in the neighbourhood where she lived for a considerable time; she had with her then as companion a young girl called Jenny, to whom she was much attached, and who nursed her devotedly9 through an illness.
[451]
Thus she wandered from place to place during the rest of her nine years of exile, generally under an assumed name; going now and then to Berlin, after the King’s death, and to Hamburg, which was full of emigrés, but where she met M. de Talleyrand and others of her own friends. Shunned10 and denounced by many, welcomed by others, she made many friends of different grades, from the brother and sister-in-law of the King of Denmark to worthy11 Mme. Plock, where she lodged12 in Altona, and the good farmer in Holstein, in whose farmhouse13 she lived. The storms and troubles of her life did not subdue14 her spirits; she was always ready for a new friendship, enjoying society, but able to do without it; taking an interest in everything, walking about the country in all weathers, playing the harp15, reading, teaching a little boy she had adopted and called Casimir, and writing books by which she easily supported herself and increased her literary reputation.
It was in the year 1801 that she received permission to return to France.
Taking leave of her friends, who implored16 her not to leave them, she started for Brussels, accompanied by her niece Henriette and Pamela, who went part of the way with her. At Antwerp she met her son-in-law, M. de Lawoestine, who had been to visit her when she was living in Holstein. With her two sons-in-law she was always on the most friendly and affectionate terms.
At Brussels she found her nephew, César Ducrest, and, after nine years’ separation, was reunited to her daughter, who accompanied her to Paris.
[452]
Mme. de Valence, whatever may have been the follies17 of her youth, was a woman generally beloved for her kind, affectionate, generous disposition18, she was devoted to her mother and children, and Mme. de Genlis in her joy at seeing her and France again, to say nothing of the other relations and friends whose affection made so large a part of her happiness, was consoled for the sorrows of her past life.
But her first impressions were very painful, notwithstanding her emotion when first she heard the people around her speaking French, saw the towers of Notre Dame19, passed the barrière, and found herself again driving through the streets of Paris.
It was all so terribly changed, she could hardly believe that this was indeed the Paris of her youth, the ancient capital of a great monarchy20, the centre of magnificence, elegance21, and refinement22. The churches were mostly closed, if not in ruins; the statues of the saints were replaced by those of infidel philosophers; the names of the streets were changed into others, often commemorating23 some odious24 individual or theory or deed of the Revolution; as to the convents the very names of “Jacobin,” “Cordeliers,” and others were associated with horror and bloodshed. The words palais and h?tel having been forbidden by the Terrorists, maison ci-devant Conti, maison ci-devant Bourbon, &c., were written upon the once splendid dwellings25 of those who were now murdered, wandering in exile or, like herself, just returning to their ruined homes, with shattered fortunes and sorrowful hearts. Everywhere, on walls and buildings were inscribed26 [453] the mocking words liberté, égalité, fraternité, sometimes with the significant addition, ou la mort.
On the other hand things were much better than when, nine years ago she had driven out of Paris to Raincy on the eve of her long exile. The powerful arm of Napoleon had swept away the most horrible government that has ever existed in civilised times or countries; people now could walk about in safety, and live without fear.
If religious processions, and splendid carriages with six or eight horses preceded by piqueurs, were no longer to be seen in the streets, neither were mobs of drunken, howling, bloodthirsty ruffians, who would have been made short work of by the great First Consul27 who so firmly held the reins28 which had dropped from the feeble hands of Louis XVI.
Unscrupulous, heartless, remorseless, yet he was a saint and angel compared to the frantic29, raving30, blood-stained miscreants31 whom he had displaced, and whose work he was now occupied in undoing32 as fast as he could.
It required time and caution, even with him, in the disturbed state of the country; but already some of the churches were beginning to open; Madame Buonaparte held something extremely like a court at the Tuileries, at which any of the returning emigrés who would go there were welcomed. And they were now returning in crowds, as fast as they could get themselves rayés. [133]
Mlle. Georgette Ducrest, a cousin of Mme. de Genlis, had emigrated with her family, who were [454] protected by Mme. de Montesson and Joséphine, and now applied33 for radiation.
M. Ducrest accordingly went with the usual request to Fouché, then minister of police, who replied—
“Will you give me your certificate of residence? all the emigrants34 have them and prove to me every day that they have never left France.”
“I cannot do that, citoyen ministre, I have no papers to show you except an old passport under another name, which I bought for twelve francs at Hamburg. I have been away from France eleven years.”
“What! You have no means of proving to me that you have been unjustly placed on the list?”
“Mordieu! no.”
“Well in that case I will have you rayé immediately for I am persuaded you have never left your country. All those who emigrated have given me so many proofs to the contrary that I am sure you are imposing36 upon me in an opposite sense, and that you never left Paris. You will receive your radiation in two days.”
Even the proscribed arms and liveries were beginning here and there to appear, and the leader in this revival37 was Mme. de Montesson.
Far from being forced, as formerly38, to keep in the background her marriage with the Duke of Orléans, it was for that very reason that she was high in the favour of the First Consul and the more en évidence she made it, the better it was for her.
She did not bear the title, which indeed would not then have been permissible39; but the well-known [455] arms and blue liveries of Orléans re-appeared on her carriages and in her h?tel, the royal arms of Orléans were embroidered40 on the fine Saxon linen41 of her household, the gold plate and delicate Sèvres china denounced by the Terrorists was to be seen at the princely entertainments at her h?tel in the rue42 de Provence, where everything was done with the stately magnificence of former days, and whither every one of the old and new society was eager to be presented.
The First Consul had restored her fortune to her, and treated her with more deference43 than he showed to any other woman; she assumed royal prerogatives44, never returning visits or rising to receive them, in fact she was considered and often called in society, the Duchess Dowager of Orléans.
Mme. de Genlis went with M. de Valence to see her two days after her return, and was coldly received, but their relations to each other quickly returned to their usual terms.
Mme. de Genlis had taken rooms close to the Chaussé d’Antin, and began to look after her affairs, which were in a most dilapidated state. Nearly all the property she left at Belle45 Chasse had been confiscated46, she could not get her jointure paid by the persons who had got hold of it, and though Sillery had been inherited by Mme. de Valence, to whom she had given up all her own share in it, Mme. de Valence had let her spendthrift husband waste the fortune and afterwards sell the estate to a General who married one of his daughters, and who partly pulled down the chateau47 and spoiled the place.
She was therefore very badly off, though her [456] writings were always quite successful enough to provide for her, but she could not be happy without perpetually adopting children: even now she had not only Casimir, who was always like a son to her, but an adopted daughter called Stéphanie Alyon, and another whom she sent back to Germany.
For more than a year she did not dare to pass the Palais Royal or to cross the place Louis XV., too many phantoms48 seemed to haunt and reproach her for the past.
But time and circumstances were obliterating49 crimes and injuries by the side of which her faults were as nothing. Though it is satisfactory to think that numbers of the Revolutionists received the punishment due to their deeds, there were others who for some reason or other managed not only to escape but to prosper7; and with Fouché in a place of power and authority, what, might one ask, had become of all ideas of justice and retribution?
Mme. de Genlis, finding Paris too dear, moved to Versailles where she lived for a time, during which she had the grief of losing her nephew, César Ducrest, a promising50 young officer, who was killed by an accident.
She grew tired of Versailles, and returned to Paris, where the First Consul gave her an apartment at the Arsenal51 and a pension.
A new era of prosperity, though of quite a different kind from the luxury, excitement, and splendour of her earlier life, now began for Mme. de Genlis. She opened a salon52 which was soon the resort of most of the interesting and influential53 people of the day. In the society of the Consulate54 and Empire [457] her early opinions and proceedings55 were not thought about, and her literary reputation was now great; and besides countless56 new acquaintances many of her old friends were delighted to welcome her again.
With Talleyrand she had always been on friendly terms.
Napoleon had insisted upon his marrying Mme. Grandt, his mistress, who had always received his guests during the loose society lately prevalent: people said that since he had done so, his salon was not nearly so amusing. She was a pretty but extremely stupid person, always making some mistake. On one occasion the celebrated57 traveller, M. Denon, was going to dine with them, and Talleyrand told her to be sure to talk to him about his travels, adding—
“You will find his book on the third shelf in the library; look it over.”
Mme. de Talleyrand went to look for the book, but had by this time forgotten the title. Turning over several she came upon “Robinson Crusoe,” thought that must be it, and read it eagerly; in consequence of which, during dinner, she began to ask him about his shipwreck58 and the desert island, and to inquire after the faithful Friday.
M. Denon, who could not imagine what she meant, looked at her in astonishment59, only saying—
“Madame?”—when Talleyrand heard and interposed.
Like all the other emigrées Mme. de Genlis was horrified60 at the strange manners and customs of the new society, largely composed of vulgar, uneducated [458] persons, often enormously rich, exceedingly pretentious61, and with no idea how to conduct themselves.
Many of them occupied the old h?tels of the ruined families of the ancien régime, in which their rough voices, strange language, manners and appearance contrasted as much with those of the former owners, as the new furniture, all gilding62, costly63 stuffs and objects mixed incongruously together, did with the harmonious64 tapestries65, ancient heirlooms, and family portraits which they replaced.
In the streets people recognised their own carriages turned into hackney coaches; the shops were full of their things; books with their arms, china, furniture, portraits of their relations, who had perhaps perished on the scaffold. Walking along the boulevard one day soon after her return to Paris she stopped at a shop, and on leaving her address, the lad who was serving her exclaimed—
“Eh! you are at home then!”
It was the h?tel de Genlis, which for fifteen years had been the residence of her brother-in-law. She did not recognise it, as all the ground floor was divided and turned into shops!
Another day she received the visit of a woman who got out of a carriage the door of which was opened and shut by a negro dwarf66, and who was announced as Mme. de Biras.
Her dress was a caricature of the latest fashion, her manner was impertinently familiar. She first made a silly exclamation67 at being addressed as “madame” instead of “citoyenne,” then she turned [459] over the books on the table and when at length Mme. de Genlis politely explained that being very busy she could not have the honour of detaining her, the strange visitor explained the object of her visit.
Her husband was a miller68, who had, apparently69 by his manipulation of contracts given him for the army and by various corrupt70 practices, made an enormous fortune. He and his wife wished to enter society, but not having any idea what to do or how to behave, they wanted Mme. de Genlis to live with them as chaperon and teach them the usages of the world, offering her 12,000 francs salary and assuring her that she would be very happy with them as they had a splendid h?tel in the rue St. Dominique, and had just bought an estate and chateau in Burgundy. She added that M. de Biras knew Mme. de Genlis, as he had lived on her father’s lands. He was their miller! [134]
It was no wonder that Napoleon was anxious to get his court and society civilised, and the person to whom he chiefly turned for help and counsel in this matter was Mme. de Montesson, who knew all about the usages of great society and court etiquette71.
Neither Napoleon nor any of his family had at all the manners and customs suitable to the position in which he had placed them, and he was quite aware of the fact. His mother, as he said, could speak neither French nor Italian properly, but only a kind of Corsican patois72, which he was ashamed to hear. He did everything he could to win over the emigrés and those of the old noblesse who had remained [460] in France; his great wish was to mingle73 the new noblesse he soon began to create with the faubourg St. Germain, and his great disappointment and anger was excited by the non-success of his attempts. From the time he rose to supreme74 power he contemplated75 a court and a noblesse for the country and a crown for himself. And that a court formed out of the materials supplied by his generals and their families would be ridiculous he knew, and meant to avoid.
“Above everything in France ridicule76 is to be avoided,” he had remarked.
Therefore he encouraged and promoted the marriages of his officers with the penniless daughters of the old families; therefore he sent the only sister who was young enough to the school of Mme. Campan, formerly femme de chambre to Marie Antoinette, and gave that clever, astute77 woman his support and approbation78.
For the same reason he had, at the beginning of his career, married Joséphine, Vicomtesse de Beauharnais; it was true, as he afterwards declared that he loved her better than he ever loved any woman; but all the same he had decided79 that his wife must be of good blood, good manners, and good society; and although Joséphine was by no means a grande dame, she was in a much better position than himself; and her children’s name, her social connections, her well-bred son and daughter, the charming manners and savoir faire of all three were then and for long afterwards both useful and agreeable to him.
Always eager to marry his officers, he was often very peremptory80 about it.
[461]
At the time of the expedition to St. Domingo he desired to send Leclerc, the husband of his second sister, Pauline. Leclerc hesitated, then said he should be glad to go, but he had a tie which bound him to France.
“Paulette?” said Napoleon. “But she will follow you. I approve of her doing so; the air of Paris does not agree with her, it is only fit for coquettes, a character unbecoming her. She must accompany you, that is understood.”
It was not Paulette, explained Leclerc, he would be distressed81 to leave her, but she would be safe and surrounded by her family. It was his young sister, now at school at Mme. Campan’s, whom he could not leave unprotected, perhaps for ever. “I ask you, General, how can I?”
“Of course,” replied Napoleon, “but you should find a marriage for her at once; to-morrow; and then go.”
“But I have no fortune, and——”
“What of that? Cannot you depend upon me? I desire you to make immediate35 preparations for your sister’s marriage to-morrow. I cannot say yet to whom, but she shall be married, and well married.”
“But——”
“Have I not spoken plainly? Say no more about it.”
Leclerc withdrew, and a few minutes afterwards Davoust came in to announce his intended marriage.
“With Mlle. Leclerc? I think it a very suitable match.”
“No, General, with Mme. ——”
[462]
“With Mlle. Leclerc! I not only find the marriage suitable, I insist on its taking place immediately!”
“I have long loved Mme. ——, she is now free; nothing shall make me give her up.”
“Nothing but my will!” said Napoleon sternly. “You will go at once to Mme. Campan’s school at Saint-Germain; on your arrival you will ask for your intended bride, to whom you will be presented by her brother, General Leclerc, who is now with my wife, and will accompany you.
“Mlle. Aimée shall come to Paris to-night. Order the wedding presents, which must be most costly, as I am to act as the young lady’s father on the occasion. I shall provide the dot and wedding-dress, and the wedding will take place as soon as the legal formalities can be arranged. You now know my wishes, and have only to obey them.”
He rang the bell, and sent for Leclerc.
“Well! Was I wrong? Here is your sister’s husband. Go together to Saint-Germain, and don’t let me see either of you until everything is arranged. I hate all talk of money affairs.”
Mute with astonishment they obeyed, and went to Saint-Germain, where Davoust was presented to Mlle. Leclerc, whom he did not like at all. The marriage took place a few days afterwards.
It was a change indeed from Louis XVI. Every one trembled before Napoleon except his brother Lucien; and perhaps his mother, who, however, never had the slightest influence over him. He required absolute submission82; but if not in opposition83 to his will, he liked a high spirit and ready answer [463] in a young man, or woman either, and detested84 weakness, cowardice85, and indecision.
When he offered posts in the army to two brothers, who belonged to the old noblesse, and they refused, preferring to accept places at court, he exclaimed angrily—
“I have been deceived! It is impossible that those gentlemen can be descended86 from the brave C——”
Another time a certain M. de Comminges, who had been with him at the école militaire, in reply to his question—
“What have you been doing during the Revolution? Have you served?”
“No, Sire.”
“Then you followed the Bourbons into exile?”
“Oh! no, Sire! I stayed at home and cultivated my little estate.”
“The more fool you, monsieur! In these times of trouble every one ought to give his personal service one way or the other. What do you want now?”
“Sire, a modest post in the octroi of my little town would——”
“Very well, you shall have it; and stay there! Is it possible that I have been the comrade of such a man?”
For the Revolution, the royalists themselves could scarcely have entertained a deeper hatred87 and contempt. He would speak with disgust of its early scenes, of the weakness of the authorities, which he despised, and of the mob, which he abominated88.
[464]
Young and unknown, he had been present with Bourrienne on the 20th June, and seen the raving, frantic mob rushing upon the Tuileries. He followed with Bourrienne in a transport of indignation, and saw with contempt Louis XVI. at the window with a red cap on. He exclaimed—
“How could they let that canaille pass in! They should sweep away four or five hundred with cannon89; the rest would run.”
He was then twenty-three.
Mme. de Genlis never went to the Imperial court, but led a quiet literary life; quiet, that is to say, so far as the word can be applied to one whose salon was the resort of such numbers of people.
Most of the Imperial Family used to go to her, but her chief friend among them was Julie, Queen of Spain, wife of Joseph Buonaparte, Napoleon’s eldest90 brother. She was also very fond of Julie’s sister, Désirée, wife of Marshal Bernadotte, afterwards Queen of Sweden. For Bernadotte she had the greatest admiration91, saying that his appearance and manners were those of the old court.
The Princess de Chimay, once Mme. Tallien, was also received by her with gratitude92 and friendship; she never forgot that she had saved the life of Mme. de Valence, and in fact put an end to the Terror. [135]
Mme. Le Brun, speaking of Mme. de Genlis, says, “Her slightest conversation had a charm of which [465] it is difficult to give an idea.... When she had discoursed93 for half an hour everybody, friends and enemies, were enchanted94 with her brilliant conversation.”
Mme. de Montesson died in February, 1806, leaving the whole of her fortune to M. de Valence, except one or two trifling95 legacies96 and 20,000 francs to Mme. de Genlis, and, as her brother was then not well off, Mme. de Genlis added her 20,000 francs to his.
点击收听单词发音
1 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
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2 detailed | |
adj.详细的,详尽的,极注意细节的,完全的 | |
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3 adventurous | |
adj.爱冒险的;惊心动魄的,惊险的,刺激的 | |
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4 severance | |
n.离职金;切断 | |
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5 proscribed | |
v.正式宣布(某事物)有危险或被禁止( proscribe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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6 joint | |
adj.联合的,共同的;n.关节,接合处;v.连接,贴合 | |
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7 prosper | |
v.成功,兴隆,昌盛;使成功,使昌隆,繁荣 | |
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8 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
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9 devotedly | |
专心地; 恩爱地; 忠实地; 一心一意地 | |
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10 shunned | |
v.避开,回避,避免( shun的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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11 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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12 lodged | |
v.存放( lodge的过去式和过去分词 );暂住;埋入;(权利、权威等)归属 | |
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13 farmhouse | |
n.农场住宅(尤指主要住房) | |
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14 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
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15 harp | |
n.竖琴;天琴座 | |
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16 implored | |
恳求或乞求(某人)( implore的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17 follies | |
罪恶,时事讽刺剧; 愚蠢,蠢笨,愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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18 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
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19 dame | |
n.女士 | |
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20 monarchy | |
n.君主,最高统治者;君主政体,君主国 | |
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21 elegance | |
n.优雅;优美,雅致;精致,巧妙 | |
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22 refinement | |
n.文雅;高尚;精美;精制;精炼 | |
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23 commemorating | |
v.纪念,庆祝( commemorate的现在分词 ) | |
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24 odious | |
adj.可憎的,讨厌的 | |
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25 dwellings | |
n.住处,处所( dwelling的名词复数 ) | |
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26 inscribed | |
v.写,刻( inscribe的过去式和过去分词 );内接 | |
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27 consul | |
n.领事;执政官 | |
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28 reins | |
感情,激情; 缰( rein的名词复数 ); 控制手段; 掌管; (成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的)保护带 | |
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29 frantic | |
adj.狂乱的,错乱的,激昂的 | |
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30 raving | |
adj.说胡话的;疯狂的,怒吼的;非常漂亮的;令人醉心[痴心]的v.胡言乱语(rave的现在分词)n.胡话;疯话adv.胡言乱语地;疯狂地 | |
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31 miscreants | |
n.恶棍,歹徒( miscreant的名词复数 ) | |
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32 undoing | |
n.毁灭的原因,祸根;破坏,毁灭 | |
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33 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
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34 emigrants | |
n.(从本国移往他国的)移民( emigrant的名词复数 ) | |
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35 immediate | |
adj.立即的;直接的,最接近的;紧靠的 | |
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36 imposing | |
adj.使人难忘的,壮丽的,堂皇的,雄伟的 | |
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37 revival | |
n.复兴,复苏,(精力、活力等的)重振 | |
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38 formerly | |
adv.从前,以前 | |
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39 permissible | |
adj.可允许的,许可的 | |
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40 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
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41 linen | |
n.亚麻布,亚麻线,亚麻制品;adj.亚麻布制的,亚麻的 | |
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42 rue | |
n.懊悔,芸香,后悔;v.后悔,悲伤,懊悔 | |
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43 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
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44 prerogatives | |
n.权利( prerogative的名词复数 );特权;大主教法庭;总督委任组成的法庭 | |
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45 belle | |
n.靓女 | |
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46 confiscated | |
没收,充公( confiscate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47 chateau | |
n.城堡,别墅 | |
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48 phantoms | |
n.鬼怪,幽灵( phantom的名词复数 ) | |
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49 obliterating | |
v.除去( obliterate的现在分词 );涂去;擦掉;彻底破坏或毁灭 | |
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50 promising | |
adj.有希望的,有前途的 | |
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51 arsenal | |
n.兵工厂,军械库 | |
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52 salon | |
n.[法]沙龙;客厅;营业性的高级服务室 | |
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53 influential | |
adj.有影响的,有权势的 | |
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54 consulate | |
n.领事馆 | |
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55 proceedings | |
n.进程,过程,议程;诉讼(程序);公报 | |
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56 countless | |
adj.无数的,多得不计其数的 | |
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57 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
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58 shipwreck | |
n.船舶失事,海难 | |
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59 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
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60 horrified | |
a.(表现出)恐惧的 | |
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61 pretentious | |
adj.自命不凡的,自负的,炫耀的 | |
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62 gilding | |
n.贴金箔,镀金 | |
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63 costly | |
adj.昂贵的,价值高的,豪华的 | |
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64 harmonious | |
adj.和睦的,调和的,和谐的,协调的 | |
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65 tapestries | |
n.挂毯( tapestry的名词复数 );绣帷,织锦v.用挂毯(或绣帷)装饰( tapestry的第三人称单数 ) | |
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66 dwarf | |
n.矮子,侏儒,矮小的动植物;vt.使…矮小 | |
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67 exclamation | |
n.感叹号,惊呼,惊叹词 | |
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68 miller | |
n.磨坊主 | |
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69 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
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70 corrupt | |
v.贿赂,收买;adj.腐败的,贪污的 | |
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71 etiquette | |
n.礼仪,礼节;规矩 | |
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72 patois | |
n.方言;混合语 | |
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73 mingle | |
vt.使混合,使相混;vi.混合起来;相交往 | |
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74 supreme | |
adj.极度的,最重要的;至高的,最高的 | |
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75 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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76 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
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77 astute | |
adj.机敏的,精明的 | |
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78 approbation | |
n.称赞;认可 | |
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79 decided | |
adj.决定了的,坚决的;明显的,明确的 | |
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80 peremptory | |
adj.紧急的,专横的,断然的 | |
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81 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
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82 submission | |
n.服从,投降;温顺,谦虚;提出 | |
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83 opposition | |
n.反对,敌对 | |
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84 detested | |
v.憎恶,嫌恶,痛恨( detest的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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85 cowardice | |
n.胆小,怯懦 | |
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86 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
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87 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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88 abominated | |
v.憎恶,厌恶,不喜欢( abominate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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89 cannon | |
n.大炮,火炮;飞机上的机关炮 | |
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90 eldest | |
adj.最年长的,最年老的 | |
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91 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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92 gratitude | |
adj.感激,感谢 | |
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93 discoursed | |
演说(discourse的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
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94 enchanted | |
adj. 被施魔法的,陶醉的,入迷的 动词enchant的过去式和过去分词 | |
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95 trifling | |
adj.微不足道的;没什么价值的 | |
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96 legacies | |
n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 );遗留之物;遗留问题;后遗症 | |
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