He was, in fact, an inveterate5 hater, a miser6 even in misanthropy, and hoarded7 up a grudge8 as he did a guinea. Thus, though my mother was an only sister, he had never forgiven her marriage with my father, against whom he had a cold, still, immovable pique10, which had lain at the bottom of his heart, like a stone in a well, ever since they had been school boys together. My mother, however, considered me as the intermediate being that was to bring every thing again into harmony, for she looked upon me as a prodigy—God bless her. My heart overflows11 whenever I recall her tenderness: she was the most excellent, the most indulgent of mothers. I was her only child; it was a pity she had no more, for she had fondness of heart enough to have spoiled a dozen!
I was sent, at an early age, to a public school, sorely against my mother’s wishes, but my father insisted that it was the only way to make boys hardy12. The school was kept by a conscientious13 prig of the ancient system, who did his duty by the boys intrusted to his care; that is to say, we were flogged soundly when we did not get our lessons. We were put into classes and thus flogged on in droves along the highways of knowledge, in the same manner as cattle are driven to market, where those that are heavy in gait or short in leg have to suffer for the superior alertness or longer limbs of their companions.
For my part, I confess it with shame, I was an incorrigible15 laggard16. I have always had the poetical17 feeling, that is to say, I have always been an idle fellow and prone19 to play the vagabond. I used to get away from my books and school whenever I could, and ramble20 about the fields. I was surrounded by seductions for such a temperament22. The school-house was an old-fashioned, white-washed mansion23 of wood and plaister, standing24 on the skirts of a beautiful village. Close by it was the venerable church with a tall Gothic spire25. Before it spread a lovely green valley, with a little stream glistening26 along through willow27 groves29; while a line of blue hills that bounded the landscape gave rise to many a summer day dream as to the fairy land that lay beyond.
In spite of all the scourgings I suffered at that school to make me love my book, I cannot but look back upon the place with fondness. Indeed, I considered this frequent flagellation as the common lot of humanity, and the regular mode in which scholars were made. My kind mother used to lament31 over my details of the sore trials I underwent in the cause of learning; but my father turned a deaf ear to her expostulations. He had been flogged through school himself, and swore there was no other way of making a man of parts; though, let me speak it with all due reverence32, my father was but an indifferent illustration of his own theory, for he was considered a grievous blockhead.
My poetical temperament evinced itself at a very early period. The Village church was attended every Sunday by a neighboring squire33—the lord of the manor34, whose park stretched quite to the village, and whose spacious35 country seat seemed to take the church under its protection. Indeed, you would have thought the church had been consecrated36 to him instead of to the Deity37. The parish clerk bowed low before him, and the vergers humbled38 themselves into the dust in his presence. He always entered a little late and with some stir, striking his cane39 emphatically on the ground; swaying his hat in his hand, and looking loftily to the right and left, as he walked slowly up the aisle40, and the parson, who always ate his Sunday dinner with him, never commenced service until he appeared. He sat with his family in a large pew gorgeously lined, humbling42 himself devoutly43 on velvet44 cushions, and reading lessons of meekness45 and lowliness of spirit out of splendid gold and morocco prayer-books. Whenever the parson spoke46 of the difficulty of the rich man’s entering the kingdom of heaven, the eyes of the congregation would turn towards the “grand pew,” and I thought the squire seemed pleased with the application.
The pomp of this pew and the aristocratical air of the family struck My imagination wonderfully, and I fell desperately48 in love with a little daughter of the squire’s about twelve years of age. This freak of fancy made me more truant49 from my studies than ever. I used to stroll about the squire’s park, and would lurk50 near the house to catch glimpses of this little damsel at the windows, or playing about the lawns, or walking out with her governess.
I had not enterprise or impudence51 enough to venture from my concealment52; indeed, I felt like an arrant53 poacher, until I read one or two of Ovid’s Metamorphoses, when I pictured myself as some sylvan54 deity, and she a coy wood nymph of whom I was in pursuit. There is something extremely delicious in these early awakenings of the tender passion. I can feel, even at this moment, the thrilling of my boyish bosom56, whenever by chance I caught a glimpse of her white frock fluttering among the shrubbery. I now began to read poetry. I carried about in my bosom a volume of Waller, which I had purloined57 from my mother’s library; and I applied58 to my little fair one all the compliments lavished59 upon Sacharissa.
At length I danced with her at a school ball. I was so awkward a booby, that I dared scarcely speak to her; I was filled with awe60 and embarrassment61 in her presence; but I was so inspired that my poetical temperament for the first time broke out in verse; and I fabricated some glowing lines, in which I be-rhymed the little lady under the favorite name of Sacharissa. I slipped the verses, trembling and blushing, into her hand the next Sunday as she came out of church. The little prude handed them to her mamma; the mamma handed them to the squire, the squire, who had no soul for poetry, sent them in dudgeon to the school-master; and the school-master, with a barbarity worthy62 of the dark ages, gave me a sound and peculiarly humiliating flogging for thus trespassing64 upon Parnassus.
This was a sad outset for a votary65 of the muse66. It ought to have cured me of my passion for poetry; but it only confirmed it, for I felt the spirit of a martyr67 rising within me. What was as well, perhaps, it cured me of my passion for the young lady; for I felt so indignant at the ignominious68 horsing I had incurred69 in celebrating her charms, that I could not hold up my head in church.
Fortunately for my wounded sensibility, the midsummer holydays came on, and I returned home. My mother, as usual, inquired into all my school concerns, my little pleasures, and cares, and sorrows; for boyhood has its share of the one as well as of the others. I told her all, and she was indignant at the treatment I had experienced. She fired up at the arrogance70 of the squire, and the prudery of the daughter; and as to the school-master, she wondered where was the use of having school-masters, and why boys could not remain at home and be educated by tutors, under the eye of their mothers. She asked to see the verses I had written, and she was delighted with them; for to confess the truth, she had a pretty taste in poetry. She even showed to them to the parson’s wife, who protested they were charming, and the parson’s three daughters insisted on each having a copy of them.
All this was exceedingly balsamic, and I was still more consoled and encouraged, when the young ladies, who were the blue-stockings of the neighborhood, and had read Dr. Johnson’s lives quite through, assured my mother that great geniuses never studied, but were always idle; upon which I began to surmise71 that I was myself something out of the common run. My father, however, was of a very different opinion, for when my mother, in the pride of her heart, showed him my copy of verses, he threw them out of the window, asking her “if she meant to make a ballad72 monger of the boy.” But he was a careless, common-thinking man, and I cannot say that I ever loved him much; my mother absorbed all my filial affection.
I used occasionally, during holydays, to be sent on short visits to the uncle, who was to make me his heir; they thought it would keep me in his mind, and render him fond of me. He was a withered73, anxious-looking old fellow, and lived in a desolate74 old country seat, which he suffered to go to ruin from absolute niggardliness75. He kept but one man-servant, who had lived, or rather starved, with him for years. No woman was allowed to sleep in the house. A daughter of the old servant lived by the gate, in what had been a porter’s lodge, and was permitted to come into the house about an hour each day, to make the beds, and cook a morsel76 of provisions.
The park that surrounded the house was all run wild; the trees grown out of shape; the fish-ponds stagnant77; the urns78 and statues fallen from their pedestals and buried among the rank grass. The hares and pheasants were so little molested79, except by poachers, that they bred in great abundance, and sported about the rough lawns and weedy avenues. To guard the premises80 and frighten off robbers, of whom he was somewhat apprehensive81, and visitors, whom he held in almost equal awe, my uncle kept two or three blood-hounds, who were always prowling round the house, and were the dread82 of the neighboring peasantry. They were gaunt and half-starved, seemed ready to devour83 one from mere84 hunger, and were an effectual check on any stranger’s approach to this wizard castle.
Such was my uncle’s house, which I used to visit now and then during The holydays. I was, as I have before said, the old man’s favorite; that is to say, he did not hate me so much as he did the rest of the world. I had been apprised85 of his character, and cautioned to cultivate his good-will; but I was too young and careless to be a courtier; and indeed have never been sufficiently86 studious of my interests to let them govern my feelings. However, we seemed to jog on very well together; and as my visits cost him almost nothing, they did not seem to be very unwelcome. I brought with me my gun and fishing-rod, and half supplied the table from the park and the fishponds.
Our meals were solitary87 and unsocial. My uncle rarely spoke; he pointed88 for whatever he wanted, and the servant perfectly89 understood him. Indeed, his man John, or Iron John, as he was called in the neighborhood, was a counterpart of his master. He was a tall, bony old fellow, with a dry wig90 that seemed made of cow’s tail, and a face as tough as though it had been made of bull’s hide. He was generally clad in a long, patched livery coat, taken out of the wardrobe of the house; and which bagged loosely about him, having evidently belonged to some corpulent predecessor91, in the more plenteous days of the mansion. From long habits of taciturnity, the hinges of his jaws92 seemed to have grown absolutely rusty93, and it cost him as much effort to set them ajar, and to let out a tolerable sentence, as it would have done to set open the iron gates of a park, and let out the family carriage that was dropping to pieces in the coach-house.
I cannot say, however, but that I was for some time amused with my uncle’s peculiarities94. Even the very desolateness95 of the establishment had something in it that hit my fancy. When the weather was fine I used to amuse myself, in a solitary way, by rambling96 about the park, and coursing like a colt across its lawns. The hares and pheasants seemed to stare with surprise, to see a human being walking these forbidden grounds by day-light. Sometimes I amused myself by jerking stones, or shooting at birds with a bow and arrows; for to have used a gun would have been treason. Now and then my path was crossed by a little red-headed, ragged97-tailed urchin98, the son of the woman at the lodge, who ran wild about the premises. I tried to draw him into familiarity, and to make a companion of him; but he seemed to have imbibed99 the strange, unsocial character of every thing around him; and always kept aloof100; so I considered him as another Orson, and amused myself with shooting at him with my bow and arrows, and he would hold up his breeches with one hand, and scamper101 away like a deer.
There was something in all this loneliness and wildness strangely pleasing to me. The great stables, empty and weather-broken, with the names of favorite horses over the vacant stalls; the windows bricked and boarded up; the broken roofs, garrisoned103 by rooks and jackdaws; all had a singularly forlorn appearance: one would have concluded the house to be totally uninhabited, were it not for a little thread of blue smoke, which now and then curled up like a corkscrew, from the centre of one of the wide chimneys, when my uncle’s starveling meal was cooking.
My uncle’s room was in a remote corner of the building, strongly secured and generally locked. I was never admitted into this strong-hold, where the old man would remain for the greater part of the time, drawn106 up like a veteran spider in the citadel107 of his web. The rest of the mansion, however, was open to me, and I sauntered about it unconstrained. The damp and rain which beat in through the broken windows, crumbled108 the paper from the walls; mouldered110 the pictures, and gradually destroyed the furniture. I loved to rove about the wide, waste chambers111 in bad weather, and listen to the howling of the wind, and the banging about of the doors and window-shutters. I pleased myself with the idea how completely, when I came to the estate, I would renovate114 all things, and make the old building ring with merriment, till it was astonished at its own jocundity115.
The chamber112 which I occupied on these visits was the same that had been my mother’s, when a girl. There was still the toilet-table of her own adorning117; the landscapes of her own drawing. She had never seen it since her marriage, but would often ask me if every thing was still the same. All was just the same; for I loved that chamber on her account, and had taken pains to put every thing in order, and to mend all the flaws in the windows with my own hands. I anticipated the time when I should once more welcome her to the house of her fathers, and restore her to this little nestling-place of her childhood.
At length my evil genius, or, what perhaps is the same thing, the muse, inspired me with the notion of rhyming again. My uncle, who never went to church, used on Sundays to read chapters out of the Bible; and Iron John, the woman from the lodge, and myself, were his congregation. It seemed to be all one to him what he read, so long as it was something from the Bible: sometimes, therefore, it would be the Song of Solomon; and this withered anatomy118 would read about being “stayed with flagons and comforted with apples, for he was sick of love.” Sometimes he would hobble, with spectacle on nose, through whole chapters of hard Hebrew names in Deuteronomy; at which the poor woman would sigh and groan119 as if wonderfully moved. His favorite book, however, was “The Pilgrim’s Progress;” and when he came to that part which treats of Doubting Castle and Giant Despair, I thought invariably of him and his desolate old country seat. So much did the idea amuse me, that I took to scribbling120 about it under the trees in the park; and in a few days had made some progress in a poem, in which I had given a description of the place, under the name of Doubting Castle, and personified my uncle as Giant Despair.
I lost my poem somewhere about the house, and I soon suspected that my uncle had found it; as he harshly intimated to me that I could return home, and that I need not come and see him again until he should send for me.
Just about this time my mother died.—I cannot dwell upon this circumstance; my heart, careless and wayworn as it is, gushes121 with the recollection. Her death was an event that perhaps gave a turn to all my after fortunes. With her died all that made home attractive, for my father was harsh, as I have before said, and had never treated me with kindness. Not that he exerted any unusual severity towards me, but it was his way. I do not complain of him. In fact, I have never been of a complaining disposition122. I seem born to be buffeted123 by friends and fortune, and nature has made me a careless endurer of buffetings.
I now, however, began to grow very impatient of remaining at school, to be flogged for things that I did not like. I longed for variety, especially now that I had not my uncle’s to resort to, by way of diversifying125 the dullness of school with the dreariness126 of his country seat. I was now turned of sixteen; tall for my age, and full of idle fancies. I had a roving, inextinguishable desire to see different kinds of life, and different orders of society; and this vagrant127 humor had been fostered in me by Tom Dribble128, the prime wag and great genius of the school, who had all the rambling propensities129 of a poet.
I used to set at my desk in the school, on a fine summer’s day, and instead of studying the book which lay open before me, my eye was gazing through the window on the green fields and blue hills. How I envied the happy groups seated on the tops of stage-coaches, chatting, and joking, and laughing, as they were whirled by the school-house, on their way to the metropolis130. Even the wagoners trudging132 along beside their ponderous133 teams, and traversing the kingdom, from one end to the other, were objects of envy to me. I fancied to myself what adventures they must experience, and what odd scenes of life they must witness. All this was doubtless the poetical temperament working within me, and tempting134 me forth135 into a world of its own creation, which I mistook for the world of real life.
While my mother lived, this strange propensity136 to roam was counteracted137 by the stronger attractions of home, and by the powerful ties of affection, which drew me to her side; but now that she was gone, the attractions had ceased; the ties were severed138. I had no longer an anchorage ground for my heart; but was at the mercy of every vagrant impulse. Nothing but the narrow allowance on which my father kept me, and the consequent penury139 of my purse, prevented me from mounting the top of a stage-coach and launching myself adrift on the great ocean of life.
Just about this time the village was agitated140 for a day or two, by the passing through of several caravans143, containing wild beasts, and other spectacles for a great fair annually144 held at a neighboring town.
I had never seen a fair of any consequence, and my curiosity was Powerfully awakened145 by this bustle146 of preparation. I gazed with respect and wonder at the vagrant personages who accompanied these caravans. I loitered about the village inn, listening with curiosity and delight to the slang talk and cant102 jokes of the showmen and their followers147; and I felt an eager desire to witness this fair, which my fancy decked out as something wonderfully fine.
A holyday afternoon presented, when I could be absent from the school from noon until evening. A wagon131 was going from the village to the fair. I could not resist the temptation, nor the eloquence148 of Tom Dribble, who was a truant to the very heart’s core. We hired seats, and set off full of boyish expectation. I promised myself that I would but take a peep at the land of promise, and hasten back again before my absence should be noticed.
Heavens! how happy I was on arriving at the fair! How I was enchanted149 with the world of fun and pageantry around me! The humors of Punch; the feats150 of the equestrians151; the magical tricks of the conjurors! But what principally caught my attention was—an itinerant152 theatre; where a tragedy, pantomime, and farce153 were all acted in the course of half an hour, and more of the dramatis personae murdered, than at either Drury Lane or Covent Garden in a whole evening. I have since seen many a play performed by the best actors in the world, but never have I derived154 half the delight from any that I did from this first representation.
There was a ferocious155 tyrant156 in a skull157 cap like an inverted158 porringer, and a dress of red baize, magnificently embroidered159 with gilt160 leather; with his face so be-whiskered and his eyebrows161 so knit and expanded with burnt cork105, that he made my heart quake within me as he stamped about the little stage. I was enraptured162 too with the surpassing beauty of a distressed164 damsel, in faded pink silk, and dirty white muslin, whom he held in cruel captivity165 by way of gaining her affections; and who wept and wrung166 her hands and flourished a ragged pocket handkerchief from the top of an impregnable tower, of the size of a band-box.
Even after I had come out from the play, I could not tear myself from the vicinity of the theatre; but lingered, gazing, and wondering, and laughing at the dramatis personae, as they performed their antics, or danced upon a stage in front of the booth, to decoy a new set of spectators.
I was so bewildered by the scene, and so lost in the crowd of sensations that kept swarming167 upon me that I was like one entranced. I lost my companion Tom Dribble, in a tumult168 and scuffle that took place near one of the shows, but I was too much occupied in mind to think long about him. I strolled about until dark, when the fair was lighted up, and a new scene of magic opened upon me. The illumination of the tents and booths; the brilliant effect of the stages decorated with lamps, with dramatic groups flaunting169 about them in gaudy170 dresses, contrasted splendidly with the surrounding darkness; while the uproar171 of drums, trumpets172, fiddles173, hautboys, and cymbals175, mingled176 with the harangues177 of the showmen, the squeaking178 of Punch, and the shouts and laughter of the crowd, all united to complete my giddy distraction179.
Time flew without my perceiving it. When I came to myself and thought of the school, I hastened to return. I inquired for the wagon in which I had come: it had been gone for hours. I asked the time: it was almost midnight! A sudden quaking seized me. How was I to get back to school? I was too weary to make the journey on foot, and I knew not where to apply for a conveyance180. Even if I should find one, could I venture to disturb the school-house long after midnight? to arouse that sleeping lion, the usher181, in the very midst of his night’s rest? The idea was too dreadful for a delinquent182 school-boy. All the horrors of return rushed upon me—my absence must long before this have been remarked—and absent for a whole night? A deed of darkness not easily to be expiated183. The rod of the pedagogue184 budded forth into tenfold terrors before my affrighted fancy. I pictured to myself punishment and humiliation185 in every variety of form; and my heart sickened at the picture. Alas186! how often are the petty ills of boyhood as painful to our tender natures, as are the sterner evils of manhood to our robuster minds.
I wandered about among the booths, and I might have derived a lesson from my actual feelings, how much the charms of this world depend upon ourselves; for I no longer saw anything gay or delightful187 in the revelry around me. At length I lay down, wearied and perplexed188, behind one of the large tents, and covering myself with the margin189 of the tent cloth to keep off the night chill, I soon fell fast asleep.
I had not slept long, when I was awakened by the noise of merriment within an adjoining booth. It was the itinerant theatre, rudely constructed of boards and canvas. I peeped through an aperture190, and saw the whole dramatis personae, tragedy, comedy, pantomime, all refreshing191 themselves after the final dismissal of their auditors192. They were merry and gamesome, and made their flimsy theatre ring with laughter. I was astonished to see the tragedy tyrant in red baize and fierce whiskers, who had made my heart quake as he strutted193 about the boards, now transformed into a fat, good humored fellow; the beaming porringer laid aside from his brow, and his jolly face washed from all the terrors of burnt cork. I was delighted, too, to see the distressed damsel in faded silk and dirty muslin, who had trembled under his tyranny, and afflicted194 me so much by her sorrows, now seated familiarly on his knee, and quaffing195 from the same tankard. Harlequin lay asleep on one of the benches; and monks196, satyrs, and Vestal virgins197 were grouped together, laughing outrageously198 at a broad story told by an unhappy count, who had been barbarously murdered in the tragedy. This was, indeed, novelty to me. It was a peep into another planet. I gazed and listened with intense curiosity and enjoyment199. They had a thousand odd stories and jokes about the events of the day, and burlesque200 descriptions and mimickings of the spectators who had been admiring them. Their conversation was full of allusions201 to their adventures at different places, where they had exhibited; the characters they had met with in different villages; and the ludicrous difficulties in which they had occasionally been involved. All past cares and troubles were now turned by these thoughtless beings into matter of merriment; and made to contribute to the gayety of the moment. They had been moving from fair to fair about the kingdom, and were the next morning to set out on their way to London.
My resolution was taken. I crept from my nest, and scrambled202 through a hedge into a neighboring field, where I went to work to make a tatterdemalion of myself. I tore my clothes; soiled them with dirt; begrimed my face and hands; and, crawling near one of the booths, purloined an old hat, and left my new one in its place. It was an honest theft, and I hope may not hereafter rise up in judgment204 against me.
I now ventured to the scene of merrymaking, and, presenting myself before the dramatic corps205, offered myself as a volunteer. I felt terribly agitated and abashed206, for “never before stood I in such a presence.” I had addressed myself to the manager of the company. He was a fat man, dressed in dirty white; with a red sash fringed with tinsel, swathed round his body. His face was smeared207 with paint, and a majestic208 plume209 towered from an old spangled black bonnet210. He was the Jupiter tonans of this Olympus, and was surrounded by the interior gods and goddesses of his court. He sat on the end of a bench, by a table, with one arm akimbo and the other extended to the handle of a tankard, which he had slowly set down from his lips as he surveyed me from head to foot. It was a moment of awful scrutiny211, and I fancied the groups around all watching us in silent suspense212, and waiting for the imperial nod.
He questioned me as to who I was; what were my qualifications; and what terms I expected. I passed myself off for a discharged servant from a gentleman’s family; and as, happily, one does not require a special recommendation to get admitted into bad company, the questions on that head were easily satisfied. As to my accomplishments213, I would spout214 a little poetry, and knew several scenes of plays, which I had learnt at school exhibitions. I could dance—, that was enough; no further questions were asked me as to accomplishments; it was the very thing they wanted; and, as I asked no wages, but merely meat and drink, and safe conduct about the world, a bargain was struck in a moment.
Behold215 me, therefore transformed of a sudden from a gentleman student to a dancing buffoon216; for such, in fact, was the character in which I made my debut217. I was one of those who formed the groups in the dramas, and were principally, employed on the stage in front of the booth, to attract company. I was equipped as a satyr, in a dress of drab frize that fitted to my shape; with a great laughing mask, ornamented218 with huge ears and short horns. I was pleased with the disguise, because it kept me from the danger of being discovered, whilst we were in that part of the country; and, as I had merely to dance and make antics, the character was favorable to a debutant, being almost on a par14 with Simon Snug219’s part of the Lion, which required nothing but roaring.
I cannot tell you how happy I was at this sudden change in my situation. I felt no degradation220, for I had seen too little of society to be thoughtful about the differences of rank; and a boy of sixteen is seldom aristocratical. I had given up no friend; for there seemed to be no one in the world that cared for me, now my poor mother was dead. I had given up no pleasure; for my pleasure was to ramble about and indulge the flow of a poetical imagination; and I now enjoyed it in perfection. There is no life so truly poetical as that of a dancing buffoon.
It may be said that all this argued grovelling221 inclinations222. I do not think so; not that I mean to vindicate223 myself in any great degree; I know too well what a whimsical compound I am. But in this instance I was seduced224 by no love of low company, nor disposition to indulge in low vices225. I have always despised the brutally226 vulgar; and I have always had a disgust at vice41, whether in high or low life. I was governed merely by a sudden and thoughtless impulse. I had no idea of resorting to this profession as a mode of life; or of attaching myself to these people, as my future class of society. I thought merely of a temporary gratification of my curiosity, and an indulgence of my humors. I had already a strong relish227 for the peculiarities of character and the varieties of situation, and I have always been fond of the comedy of life, and desirous of seeing it through all its shifting scenes.
In mingling228, therefore, among mountebanks and buffoons230 I was protected by the very vivacity231 of imagination which had led me among them. I moved about enveloped232, as it were, in a protecting delusion233, which my fancy spread around me. I assimilated to these people only as they struck me poetically234; their whimsical ways and a certain picturesqueness235 in their mode of life entertained me; but I was neither amused nor corrupted236 by their vices. In short, I mingled among them, as Prince Hal did among his graceless associates, merely to gratify my humor.
I did not investigate my motives237 in this manner, at the time, for I was too careless and thoughtless to reason about the matter; but I do so now, when I look back with trembling to think of the ordeal238 to which I unthinkingly exposed myself, and the manner in which I passed through it. Nothing, I am convinced, but the poetical temperament, that hurried me into the scrape, brought me out of it without my becoming an arrant vagabond.
Full of the enjoyment of the moment, giddy with the wildness of animal spirits, so rapturous in a boy, I capered239, I danced, I played a thousand fantastic tricks about the stage, in the villages in which we exhibited; and I was universally pronounced the most agreeable monster that had ever been seen in those parts. My disappearance240 from school had awakened my father’s anxiety; for I one day heard a description of myself cried before the very booth in which I was exhibiting; with the offer of a reward for any intelligence of me. I had no great scruple241 about letting my father suffer a little uneasiness on my account; it would punish him for past indifference242, and would make him value me the more when he found me again. I have wondered that some of my comrades did not recognize in me the stray sheep that was cried; but they were all, no doubt, occupied by their own concerns. They were all laboring244 seriously in their antic vocations245, for folly246 was a mere trade with the most of them, and they often grinned and capered with heavy hearts. With me, on the contrary, it was all real. I acted con4 amore, and rattled247 and laughed from the irrepressible gayety of my spirits. It is true that, now and then, I started and looked grave on receiving a sudden thwack from the wooden sword of Harlequin, in the course of my gambols249; as it brought to mind the birch of my school-master. But I soon got accustomed to it; and bore all the cuffing250, and kicking, and tumbling about, that form the practical wit of your itinerant pantomime, with a good humor that made me a prodigious251 favorite.
The country campaign of the troupe252 was soon at an end, and we set off for the metropolis, to perform at the fairs which are held in its vicinity. The greater part of our theatrical253 property was sent on direct, to be in a state of preparation for the opening of the fairs; while a detachment of the company travelled slowly on, foraging254 among the villages. I was amused with the desultory255, hap-hazard kind of life we led; here to-day, and gone to-morrow. Sometimes revelling256 in ale-houses; sometimes feasting under hedges in the green fields. When audiences were crowded and business profitable, we fared well, and when otherwise, we fared scantily257, and consoled ourselves with anticipations258 of the next day’s success.
At length the increasing frequency of coaches hurrying past us, covered with passengers; the increasing number of carriages, carts, wagons260, gigs, droves of cattle and flocks of sheep, all thronging261 the road; the snug country boxes with trim flower gardens twelve feet square, and their trees twelve feet high, all powdered with dust; and the innumerable seminaries for young ladies and gentlemen, situated262 along the road, for the benefit of country air and rural retirement263; all these insignia announced that the mighty264 London was at hand. The hurry, and the crowd, and the bustle, and the noise, and the dust, increased as we proceeded, until I saw the great cloud of smoke hanging in the air, like a canopy265 of state, over this queen of cities.
In this way, then, did I enter the metropolis; a strolling vagabond; on the top of a caravan142 with a crew of vagabonds about me; but I was as happy as a prince, for, like Prince Hal, I felt myself superior to my situation, and knew that I could at any time cast it off and emerge into my proper sphere.
How my eyes sparkled as we passed Hyde-park corner, and I saw splendid equipages rolling by, with powdered footmen behind, in rich liveries, and fine nosegays, and gold-headed canes266; and with lovely women within, so sumptuously267 dressed and so surpassingly fair. I was always extremely sensible to female beauty; and here I saw it in all its fascination268; for, whatever may be said of “beauty unadorned,” there is something almost awful in female loveliness decked out in jewelled state. The swan-like neck encircled with diamonds; the raven269 locks, clustered with pearls; the ruby270 glowing on the snowy bosom, are objects that I could never contemplate271 without emotion; and a dazzling white arm clasped with bracelets272, and taper273 transparent274 fingers laden275 with sparkling rings, are to me irresistible276. My very eyes ached as I gazed at the high and courtly beauty that passed before me. It surpassed all that my imagination had conceived of the sex. I shrunk, for a moment, into shame at the company in which I was placed, and repined at the vast distance that seemed to intervene between me and these magnificent beings.
I forbear to give a detail of the happy life which I led about the skirts of the metropolis, playing at the various fairs, held there during the latter part of spring and the beginning of summer. This continual change from place to place, and scene to scene, fed my imagination with novelties, and kept my spirits in a perpetual state of excitement.
As I was tall of my age I aspired277, at one time, to play heroes in tragedy; but after two or three trials, I was pronounced, by the manager, totally unfit for the line; and our first tragic278 actress, who was a large woman, and held a small hero in abhorrence279, confirmed his decision.
The fact is, I had attempted to give point to language which had no point, and nature to scenes which had no nature. They said I did not fill out my characters; and they were right. The characters had all been prepared for a different sort of man. Our tragedy hero was a round, robustious fellow, with an amazing voice; who stamped and slapped his breast until his wig shook again; and who roared and bellowed281 out his bombast282, until every phrase swelled283 upon the ear like the sound of a kettle-drum. I might as well have attempted to fill out his clothes as his characters. When we had a dialogue together, I was nothing before him, with my slender voice and discriminating284 manner. I might as well have attempted to parry a cudgel with a small sword. If he found me in any way gaining ground upon him, he would take refuge in his mighty voice, and throw his tones like peals285 of thunder at me, until they were drowned in the still louder thunders of applause from the audience.
To tell the truth, I suspect that I was not shown fair play, and that there was management at the bottom; for without vanity, I think I was a better actor than he. As I had not embarked286 in the vagabond line through ambition, I did not repine at lack of preferment; but I was grieved to find that a vagrant life was not without its cares and anxieties, and that jealousies288, intrigues289, and mad ambition were to be found even among vagabonds.
Indeed, as I become more familiar with my situation, and the delusions290 of fancy began to fade away, I discovered that my associates were not the happy careless creatures I had at first imagined them. They were jealous of each other’s talents; they quarrelled about parts, the same as the actors on the grand theatres; they quarrelled about dresses; and there was one robe of yellow silk, trimmed with red, and a head-dress of three rumpled291 ostrich292 feathers, which were continually setting the ladies of the company by the ears. Even those who had attained293 the highest honors were not more happy than the rest; for Mr. Flimsey himself, our first tragedian, and apparently294 a jovial295, good-humored fellow, confessed to me one day, in the fullness of his heart, that he was a miserable296 man. He had a brother-in-law, a relative by marriage, though not by blood, who was manager of a theatre in a small country town. And this same brother, (“a little more than kin30, but less than kind,”) looked down upon him, and treated him with contumely, because forsooth he was but a strolling player. I tried to console him with the thoughts of the vast applause he daily received, but it was all in vain. He declared that it gave him no delight, and that he should never be a happy man until the name of Flimsey rivalled the name of Crimp.
How little do those before the scenes know of what passes behind; how little can they judge, from the countenances298 of actors, of what is passing in their hearts. I have known two lovers quarrel like cats behind the scenes, who were, the moment after, ready to fly into each other’s embraces. And I have dreaded299, when our Belvidera was to take her farewell kiss of her Jaffier, lest she should bite a piece out of his cheek. Our tragedian was a rough joker off the stage; our prime clown the most peevish300 mortal living. The latter used to go about snapping and snarling301, with a broad laugh painted on his countenance297; and I can assure you that, whatever may be said of the gravity of a monkey, or the melancholy302 of a gibed303 cat, there is no more melancholy creature in existence than a mountebank229 off duty.
The only thing in which all parties agreed was to backbite304 the manager, and cabal305 against his regulations. This, however, I have since discovered to be a common trait of human nature, and to take place in all communities. It would seem to be the main business of man to repine at government. In all situations of life into which I have looked, I have found mankind divided into two grand parties;—those who ride and those who are ridden. The great struggle of life seems to be which shall keep in the saddle. This, it appears to me, is the fundamental principle of politics, whether in great or little life. However, I do not mean to moralize; but one cannot always sink the philosopher.
Well, then, to return to myself. It was determined307, as I said, that I was not fit for tragedy, and unluckily, as my study was bad, having a very poor memory, I was pronounced unfit for comedy also: besides, the line of young gentlemen was already engrossed308 by an actor with whom I could not pretend to enter into competition, he having filled it for almost half a century. I came down again therefore to pantomime. In consequence, however, of the good offices of the manager’s lady, who had taken a liking309 to me, I was promoted from the part of the satyr to that of the lover; and with my face patched and painted, a huge cravat310 of paper, a steeple-crowned hat, and dangling311, long-skirted, sky-blue coat, was metamorphosed into the lover of Columbine. My part did not call for much of the tender and sentimental312. I had merely to pursue the fugitive313 fair one; to have a door now and then slammed in my face; to run my head occasionally against a post; to tumble and roll about with Pantaloon and the clown; and to endure the hearty314 thwacks of Harlequin’s wooden sword.
As ill luck would have it, my poetical temperament began to ferment287 within me, and to work out new troubles. The inflammatory air of a great metropolis added to the rural scenes in which the fairs were held; such as Greenwich Park; Epping Forest; and the lovely valley of the West End, had a powerful effect upon me. While in Greenwich Park I was witness to the old holiday games of running down hill; and kissing in the ring; and then the firmament315 of blooming faces and blue eyes that would be turned towards me as I was playing antics on the stage; all these set my young blood, and my poetical vein316, in full flow. In short, I played my character to the life, and became desperately enamored of Columbine. She was a trim, well-made, tempting girl, with a rougish, dimpling face, and fine chestnut317 hair clustering all about it. The moment I got fairly smitten318, there was an end to all playing. I was such a creature of fancy and feeling that I could not put on a pretended, when I was powerfully affected319 by a real emotion. I could not sport with a fiction that came so near to the fact. I became too natural in my acting320 to succeed. And then, what a situation for a lover! I was a mere stripling, and she played with my passion; for girls soon grow more adroit321 and knowing in these than your awkward youngsters. What agonies had I to suffer. Every time that she danced in front of the booth and made such liberal displays of her charms, I was in torment322. To complete my misery323, I had a real rival in Harlequin; an active, vigorous, knowing varlet of six-and-twenty. What had a raw, inexperienced youngster like me to hope from such a competition?
I had still, however, some advantages in my favor. In spite of my change of life, I retained that indescribable something which always distinguishes the gentleman; that something which dwells in a man’s air and deportment, and not in his clothes; and which it is as difficult for a gentleman to put off as for a vulgar fellow to put on. The company generally felt it, and used to call me little gentleman Jack104. The girl felt it too; and in spite of her predilection324 for my powerful rival, she liked to flirt325 with me. This only aggravated326 my troubles, by increasing my passion, and awakening55 the jealousy327 of her parti-colored lover.
Alas! think what I suffered, at being obliged to keep up an ineffectual chase after my Columbine through whole pantomimes; to see her carried off in the vigorous arms of the happy Harlequin; and to be obliged, instead of snatching her from him, to tumble sprawling328 with Pantaloon and the clown; and bear the infernal and degrading thwacks of my rival’s weapon of lath; which, may heaven confound him! (excuse my passion) the villain329 laid on with a malicious330 good-will; nay331, I could absolutely hear him chuckle332 and laugh beneath his accursed mask—I beg pardon for growing a little warm in my narration333. I wish to be cool, but these recollections will sometimes agitate141 me. I have heard and read of many desperate and deplorable situations of lovers; but none, I think, in which true love was ever exposed to so severe and peculiar63 a trial.
This could not last long. Flesh and blood, at least such flesh and blood as mine, could not bear it. I had repeated heartburnings and quarrels with my rival, in which he treated me with the mortifying334 forbearance of a man towards a child. Had he quarrelled outright335 with me, I could have stomached it; at least I should have known what part to take; but to be humored and treated as a child in the presence of my mistress, when I felt all the bantam spirit of a little man swelling336 within me—gods, it was insufferable!
At length we were exhibiting one day at West End fair, which was at that time a very fashionable resort, and often beleaguered337 by gay equipages from town. Among the spectators that filled the front row of our little canvas theatre one afternoon, when I had to figure in a pantomime, was a party of young ladies from a boarding-school, with their governess. Guess my confusion, when, in the midst of my antics, I beheld338 among the number my quondam flame; her whom I had be-rhymed at school; her for whose charms I had smarted so severely339; tho cruel Sacharissa! What was worse, I fancied she recollected340 me; and was repeating the story of my humiliating flagellation, for I saw her whispering her companions and her governess. I lost all consciousness of the part I was acting, and of the place where I was. I felt shrunk to nothing, and could have crept into a rat-hole—unluckily, none was open to receive me. Before I could recover from my confusion, I was tumbled over by Pantaloon and the clown; and I felt the sword of Harlequin making vigorous assaults, in a manner most degrading to my dignity.
Heaven and earth! was I again to suffer martyrdom in this ignominious manner, in the knowledge, and even before the very eyes of this most beautiful, but most disdainful of fair ones? All my long-smothered wrath341 broke out at once; the dormant342 feelings of the gentleman arose within me; stung to the quick by intolerable mortification343, I sprang on my feet in an instant; leaped upon Harlequin like a young tiger; tore off his mask; buffeted him in the face, and soon shed more blood on the stage than had been spilt upon it during a whole tragic campaign of battles and murders.
As soon as Harlequin recovered from his surprise he returned my assault with interest. I was nothing in his hands. I was game to be sure, for I was a gentleman; but he had the clownish advantages of bone and muscle. I felt as if I could have fought even unto the death; and I was likely to do so; for he was, according to the vulgar phrase, “putting my head into Chancery,” when the gentle Columbine flew to my assistance. God bless the women; they are always on the side of the weak and the oppressed.
The battle now became general; the dramatis personae ranged on either side. The manager interfered344 in vain. In vain were his spangled black bonnet and towering white feathers seen whisking about, and nodding, and bobbing, in the thickest of the fight. Warriors345, ladies, priests, satyrs, kings, queens, gods and goddesses, all joined pell-mell in the fray347. Never, since the conflict under the walls of Troy, had there been such a chance medley348 warfare349 of combatants, human and divine. The audience applauded, the ladies shrieked350 and fled from the theatre, and a scene of discord351 ensued that baffles all description.
Nothing but the interference of the peace officers restored some degree of order. The havoc352, however, that had been made among dresses and decorations put an end to all farther acting for that day. The battle over, the next thing was to inquire why it was begun; a common question among politicians, after a bloody353 and unprofitable war; and one not always easy to be answered. It was soon traced to me, and my unaccountable transport of passion, which they could only attribute to my having run a muck. The manager was judge and jury, and plaintiff in the bargain, and in such cases justice is always speedily administered. He came out of the fight as sublime354 a wreck355 as the Santissìma Trinidada. His gallant356 plumes357, which once towered aloft, were drooping358 about his ears. His robe of state hung in ribbands from his back, and but ill concealed359 the ravages360 he had suffered in the rear. He had received kicks and cuffs361 from all sides, during the tumult; for every one took the opportunity of slyly gratifying some lurking362 grudge on his fat carcass. He was a discreet363 man, and did not choose to declare war with all his company; so he swore all those kicks and cuffs had been given by me, and I let him enjoy the opinion. Some wounds he bore, however, which were the incontestible traces of a woman’s warfare. His sleek364 rosy365 cheek was scored by trickling366 furrows367, which were ascribed to the nails of my intrepid368 and devoted369 Columbine. The ire of the monarch370 was not to be appeased371. He had suffered in his person, and he had suffered in his purse; his dignity too had been insulted, and that went for something; for dignity is always more irascible the more petty the potentate372. He wreaked373 his wrath upon the beginners of the affray, and Columbine and myself were discharged, at once, from the company.
Figure me, then, to yourself, a stripling of little more than sixteen; a gentleman by birth; a vagabond by trade; turned adrift upon the world; making the best of my way through the crowd of West End fair; my mountebank dress fluttering in rags about me; the weeping Columbine hanging upon my arm, in splendid, but tattered374 finery; the tears coursing one by one down her face; carrying off the red paint in torrents375, and literally376 “preying upon her damask cheek.”
The crowd made way for us as we passed and hooted377 in our rear. I felt the ridicule378 of my situation, but had too much gallantry to desert this fair one, who had sacrificed everything for me. Having wandered through the fair, we emerged, like another Adam and Eve, into unknown regions, and “had the world before us where to choose.” Never was a more disconsolate379 pair seen in the soft valley of West End. The luckless Columbine cast back many a lingering look at the fair, which seemed to put on a more than usual splendor380; its tents, and booths, and parti-colored groups, all brightening in the sunshine, and gleaming among the trees; and its gay flags and streamers playing and fluttering in the light summer airs. With a heavy sigh she would lean on my arm and proceed. I had no hope or consolation381 to give her; but she had linked herself to my fortunes, and she was too much of a woman to desert me.
Pensive382 and silent, then, we traversed the beautiful fields that lie behind Hempstead, and wandered on, until the fiddle174, and the hautboy, and the shout, and the laugh, were swallowed up in the deep sound of the big bass383 drum, and even that died away into a distant rumble109. We passed along the pleasant sequestered384 walk of Nightingale lane. For a pair of lovers what scene could be more propitious385?—But such a pair of lovers! Not a nightingale sang to soothe386 us: the very gypsies who were encamped there during the fair, made no offer to tell the fortunes of such an ill-omened couple, whose fortunes, I suppose, they thought too legibly written to need an interpreter; and the gypsey children crawled into their cabins and peeped out fearfully at us as we went by. For a moment I paused, and was almost tempted280 to turn gypsey, but the poetical feeling for the present was fully47 satisfied, and I passed on. Thus we travelled, and travelled, like a prince and princess in nursery chronicle, until we had traversed a part of Hempstead Heath and arrived in the vicinity of Jack Straw’s castle.
Here, wearied and dispirited, we seated ourselves on the margin of the hill, hard by the very mile-stone where Whittington of yore heard the Bow bells ring out the presage387 of his future greatness. Alas! no bell rung in invitation to us, as we looked disconsolately388 upon the distant city. Old London seemed to wrap itself up unsociably in its mantle389 of brown smoke, and to offer no encouragement to such a couple of tatterdemalions.
For once, at least, the usual course of the pantomime was reversed. Harlequin was jilted, and the lover had earned off Columbine in good earnest. But what was I to do with her? I had never contemplated390 such a dilemma391; and I now felt that even a fortunate lover may be embarrassed by his good fortune. I really knew not what was to become of me; for I had still the boyish fear of returning home; standing in awe of the stern temper of my father, and dreading392 the ready arm of the pedagogue. And even if I were to venture home, what was I to do with Columbine? I could not take her in my hand, and throw myself on my knees, and crave393 his forgiveness and his blessing394 according to dramatic usage. The very dogs would have chased such a draggle-tailed beauty from the grounds.
In the midst of my doleful dumps, some one tapped me on the shoulder, and looking up I saw a couple of rough sturdy fellows standing behind me. Not knowing what to expect I jumped on my legs, and was preparing again to make battle; but I was tripped up and secured in a twinkling.
“Come, come, young master,” said one of the fellows in a gruff, but good-humored tone, “don’t let’s have any of your tantrums; one would have thought that you had had swing enough for this bout21. Come, it’s high time to leave off harlequinading, and go home to your father.”
In fact I had a couple of Bow street officers hold of me. The cruel Sacharissa had proclaimed who I was, and that a reward had been offered throughout the country for any tidings of me; and they had seen a description of me that had been forwarded to the police office in town. Those harpies, therefore, for the mere sake of filthy395 lucre396, were resolved to deliver me over into the hands of my father and the clutches of my pedagogue.
It was in vain that I swore I would not leave my faithful and Afflicted Columbine. It was in vain that I tore myself from their grasp, and flew to her; and vowed397 to protect her; and wiped the tears from her cheek, and with them a whole blush that might have vied with the carnation399 for brilliancy. My persecutors were inflexible400; they even seemed to exult401 in our distress163; and to enjoy this theatrical display of dirt, and finery, and tribulation402. I was carried off in despair, leaving my Columbine destitute403 in the wide world; but many a look of agony did I cast back at her, as she stood gazing piteously after me from the brink404 of Hempstead Hill; so forlorn, so fine, so ragged, so bedraggled, yet so beautiful.
Thus ended my first peep into the world. I returned home, rich in good-for-nothing experience, and dreading the reward I was to receive for my improvement. My reception, however, was quite different from what I had expected. My father had a spice of the devil in him, and did not seem to like me the worse for my freak, which he termed “sowing my wild oats.” He happened to have several of his sporting friends to dine with him the very day of my return; they made me tell some of my adventures, and laughed heartily405 at them. One old fellow, with an outrageously red nose, took to me hugely. I heard him whisper to my father that I was a lad of mettle406, and might make something clever; to which my father replied that “I had good points, but was an ill-broken whelp, and required a great deal of the whip.” Perhaps this very conversation raised me a little in his esteem407, for I found the red-nosed old gentleman was a veteran fox-hunter of the neighborhood, for whose opinion my father had vast deference408. Indeed, I believe he would have pardoned anything in me more readily than poetry; which he called a cursed, sneaking409, puling, housekeeping employment, the bane of all true manhood. He swore it was unworthy of a youngster of my expectations, who was one day to have so great an estate, and would he able to keep horses and hounds and hire poets to write songs for him into the bargain.
I had now satisfied, for a time, my roving propensity. I had exhausted410 the poetical feeling. I had been heartily buffeted out of my love for theatrical display. I felt humiliated411 by my exposure, and was willing to hide my head anywhere for a season; so that I might be out of the way of the ridicule of the world; for I found folks not altogether so indulgent abroad as they were at my father’s table. I could not stay at home; the house was intolerably doleful now that my mother was no longer there to cherish me. Every thing around spoke mournfully of her. The little flower-garden in which she delighted was all in disorder412 and overrun with weeds. I attempted, for a day or two, to arrange it, but my heart grew heavier and heavier as I labored413. Every little broken-down flower that I had seen her rear so tenderly, seemed to plead in mute eloquence to my feelings. There was a favorite honeysuckle which I had seen her often training with assiduity, and had heard her say it should be the pride of her garden. I found it grovelling along the ground, tangled414 and wild, and twining round every worthless weed, and it struck me as an emblem415 of myself: a mere scatterling, running to waste and uselessness. I could work no longer in the garden.
My father sent me to pay a visit to my uncle, by way of keeping the old gentleman in mind of me. I was received, as usual, without any expression of discontent; which we always considered equivalent to a hearty welcome. Whether he had ever heard of my strolling freak or not I could not discover; he and his man were both so taciturn. I spent a day or two roaming about the dreary416 mansion and neglected park; and felt at one time, I believe, a touch of poetry, for I was tempted to drown myself in a fish-pond; I rebuked417 the evil spirit, however, and it left me. I found the same red-headed boy running wild about the park, but I felt in no humor to hunt him at present. On the contrary, I tried to coax418 him to me, and to make friends with him, but the young savage419 was untameable.
When I returned from my uncle’s I remained at home for some time, for my father was disposed, he said, to make a man of me. He took me out hunting with him, and I became a great favorite of the red-nosed squire, because I rode at everything; never refused the boldest leap, and was always sure to be in at the death. I used often however, to offend my father at hunting dinners, by taking the wrong side in politics. My father was amazingly ignorant—so ignorant, in fact, as not to know that he knew nothing. He was staunch, however, to church and king, and full of old-fashioned prejudices. Now, I had picked up a little knowledge in politics and religion, during my rambles420 with the strollers, and found myself capable of setting him right as to many of his antiquated421 notions. I felt it my duty to do so; we were apt, therefore, to differ occasionally in the political discussions that sometimes arose at these hunting dinners.
I was at that age when a man knows least and is most vain of his knowledge; and when he is extremely tenacious422 in defending his opinion upon subjects about which he knows nothing. My father was a hard man for any one to argue with, for he never knew when he was refuted. I sometimes posed him a little, but then he had one argument that always settled the question; he would threaten to knock me down. I believe he at last grew tired of me, because I both out-talked and outrode him. The red-nosed squire, too, got out of conceit423 of me, because in the heat of the chase, I rode over him one day as he and his horse lay sprawling in the dirt. My father, therefore, thought it high time to send me to college; and accordingly to Trinity College at Oxford424 was I sent.
I had lost my habits of study while at home; and I was not likely to find them again at college. I found that study was not the fashion at college, and that a lad of spirit only ate his terms; and grew wise by dint425 of knife and fork. I was always prone to follow the fashions of the company into which I fell; so I threw by my books, and became a man of spirit. As my father made me a tolerable allowance, notwithstanding the narrowness of his income, having an eye always to my great expectations, I was enabled to appear to advantage among my fellow-students. I cultivated all kinds of sports and exercises. I was one of the most expert oarsmen that rowed on the Isis. I boxed and fenced. I was a keen huntsman, and my chambers in college were always decorated with whips of all kinds, spurs, foils, and boxing gloves. A pair of leather breeches would seem to be throwing one leg out of the half-open drawers, and empty bottles lumbered426 the bottom of every closet.
I soon grew tired of this, and relapsed into my vein of mere poetical indulgence. I was charmed with Oxford, for it was full of poetry to me. I thought I should never grow tired of wandering about its courts and cloisters427; and visiting the different college halls. I used to love to get in places surrounded by the colleges, where all modern buildings were screened from the sight; and to walk about them in twilight428, and see the professors and students sweeping429 along in the dusk in their caps and gowns. There was complete delusion in the scene. It seemed to transport me among the edifices430 and the people of old times. It was a great luxury, too, for me to attend the evening service in the new college chapel432, and to hear the fine organ and the choir433 swelling an anthem434 in that solemn building; where painting and music and architecture seem to combine their grandest effects.
I became a loiterer, also, about the Bodleian library, and a great dipper into books; but too idle to follow any course of study or vein of research. One of my favorite haunts was the beautiful walk, bordered by lofty elms, along the Isis, under the old gray walls of Magdalen College, which goes by the name of Addison’s Walk; and was his resort when a student at the college. I used to take a volume of poetry in my hand, and stroll up and down this walk for hours.
My father came to see me at college. He asked me how I came on with my studies; and what kind of hunting there was in the neighborhood. He examined my sporting apparatus435; wanted to know if any of the professors were fox-hunters; and whether they were generally good shots; for he suspected this reading so much was rather hurtful to the sight. Such was the only person to whom I was responsible for my improvement: is it matter of wonder, therefore, that I became a confirmed idler?
I do not know how it is, but I cannot be idle long without getting in love. I became deeply smitten with a shopkeeper’s daughter in the high street; who in fact was the admiration436 of many of the students. I wrote several sonnets437 in praise of her, and spent half of my pocket-money at the shop, in buying articles which I did not want, that I might have an opportunity of speaking to her. Her father, a severe-looking old gentleman, with bright silver buckles439 and a crisp, curled wig, kept a strict guard on her; as the fathers generally do upon their daughters in Oxford; and well they may. I tried to get into his good graces, and to be sociable441 with him; but in vain. I said several good things in his shop, but he never laughed; he had no relish for wit and humor. He was one of those dry old gentlemen who keep youngsters at bay. He had already brought up two or three daughters, and was experienced in the ways of students.
He was as knowing and wary442 as a gray old badger443 that has often been hunted. To see him on Sunday, so stiff and starched444 in his demeanor445; so precise in his dress; with his daughter under his arm, and his ivory-headed cane in his hand, was enough to deter306 all graceless youngsters from approaching.
I managed, however, in spite of his vigilance, to have several Conversations with the daughter, as I cheapened articles in the shop. I made terrible long bargains, and examined the articles over and over, before I purchased. In the meantime, I would convey a sonnet438 or an acrostic under cover of a piece of cambric, or slipped into a pair of stockings; I would whisper soft nonsense into her ear as I haggled446 about the price; and would squeeze her hand tenderly as I received my halfpence of change, in a bit of whity-brown paper. Let this serve as a hint to all haberdashers, who have pretty daughters for shop-girls, and young students for customers. I do not know whether my words and looks were very eloquent447; but my poetry was irresistible; for, to tell the truth, the girl had some literary taste, and was seldom without a book from the circulating library.
By the divine power of poetry, therefore, which is irresistible with the lovely sex, did I subdue448 the heart of this fair little haberdasher. We carried on a sentimental correspondence for a time across the counter, and I supplied her with rhyme by the stockingful. At length I prevailed on her to grant me an assignation. But how was it to be effected? Her father kept her always under his eye; she never walked out alone; and the house was locked up the moment that the shop was shut. All these difficulties served but to give zest449 to the adventure. I proposed that the assignation should be in her own chamber, into which I would climb at night. The plan was irresistible. A cruel father, a secret lover, and a clandestine450 meeting! All the little girl’s studies from the circulating library seemed about to be realised. But what had I in view in making this assignation? Indeed I know not. I had no evil intentions; nor can I say that I had any good ones. I liked the girl, and wanted to have an opportunity of seeing more of her; and the assignation was made, as I have done many things else, heedlessly and without forethought. I asked myself a few questions of the kind, after all my arrangements were made; but the answers were very unsatisfactory. “Am I to ruin this poor thoughtless girl?” said I to myself. “No!” was the prompt and indignant answer. “Am I to run away with her?” “Whither—and to what purpose?” “Well, then, am I to marry her!”—“Pah! a man of my expectations marry a shopkeeper’s daughter!” “What, then, am I to do with her?” “Hum—why.—Let me get into her chamber first, and then consider”—and so the self-examination ended.
Well, sir, “come what come might,” I stole under cover of the darkness to the dwelling451 of my dulcinea. All was quiet. At the concerted signal her window was gently opened. It was just above the projecting bow-window of her father’s shop, which assisted me in mounting. The house was low, and I was enabled to scale the fortress452 with tolerable ease. I clambered with a beating heart; I reached the casement453; I hoisted454 my body half into the chamber and was welcomed, not by the embraces of my expecting fair one, but by the grasp of the crabbed-looking old father in the crisp curled wig.
I extricated455 myself from his clutches and endeavored to make my retreat; but I was confounded by his cries of thieves! and robbers! I was bothered, too, by his Sunday cane; which was amazingly busy about my head as I descended456; and against which my hat was but a poor protection. Never before had I an idea of the activity of an old man’s arm, and hardness of the knob of an ivory-headed cane. In my hurry and confusion I missed my footing, and fell sprawling on the pavement. I was immediately surrounded by myrmidons, who I doubt not were on the watch for me. Indeed, I was in no situation to escape, for I had sprained458 my ankle in the fall, and could not stand. I was seized as a housebreaker; and to exonerate459 myself from a greater crime I had to accuse myself of a less. I made known who I was, and why I came there. Alas! the varlets knew it already, and were only amusing themselves at my expense. My perfidious461 muse had been playing me one of her slippery tricks. The old curmudgeon of a father had found my sonnets and acrostics hid away in holes and corners of his shop; he had no taste for poetry like his daughter, and had instituted a rigorous though silent observation. He had moused upon our letters; detected the ladder of ropes, and prepared everything for my reception. Thus was I ever doomed462 to be led into scrapes by the muse. Let no man henceforth carry on a secret amour in poetry.
The old man’s ire was in some measure appeased by the pummelling of my head, and the anguish463 of my sprain457; so he did not put me to death on the spot. He was even humane464 enough to furnish a shutter113, on which I was carried back to the college like a wounded warrior346. The porter was roused to admit me; the college gate was thrown open for my entry; the affair was blazed abroad the next morning, and became the joke of the college from the buttery to the hall.
I had leisure to repent465 during several weeks’ confinement466 by my sprain, which I passed in translating Boethius’ Consolations467 of Philosophy. I received a most tender and ill-spelled letter from my mistress, who had been sent to a relation in Coventry. She protested her innocence468 of my misfortunes, and vowed to be true to me “till death.” I took no notice of the letter, for I was cured, for the present, both of love and poetry. Women, however, are more constant in their attachments469 than men, whatever philosophers may say to the contrary. I am assured that she actually remained faithful to her vow398 for several months; but she had to deal with a cruel father whose heart was as hard as the knob of his cane. He was not to be touched by tears or poetry; but absolutely compelled her to marry a reputable young tradesman; who made her a happy woman in spite of herself, and of all the rules of romance; and what is more, the mother of several children. They are at this very day a thriving couple and keep a snug corner shop, just opposite the figure of Peeping Tom at Coventry.
I will not fatigue470 you by any more details of my studies at Oxford, though they were not always as severe as these; nor did I always pay as dear for my lessons. People may say what they please, a studious life has its charms, and there are many places more gloomy than the cloisters of a university.
To be brief, then, I lived on in my usual miscellaneous manner, gradually getting a knowledge of good and evil, until I had attained my twenty-first year. I had scarcely come of age when I heard of the sudden death of my father. The shock was severe, for though he had never treated me with kindness, still he was my father, and at his death I felt myself alone in the world.
I returned home to act as chief mourner at his funeral. It was attended by many of the sportsmen of the country; for he was an important member of their fraternity. According to his request his favorite hunter was led after the hearse. The red-nosed fox-hunter, who had taken a little too much wine at the house, made a maudlin471 eulogy472 of the deceased, and wished to give the view halloo over the grave; but he was rebuked by the rest of the company. They all shook me kindly473 by the hand, said many consolatory474 things to me, and invited me to become a member of the hunt in my father’s place.
When I found myself alone in my paternal475 home, a crowd of gloomy feelings came thronging upon me. It was a place that always seemed to sober me, and bring me to reflection. Now, especially, it looked so deserted476 and melancholy; the furniture displaced about the room; the chairs in groups, as their departed occupants had sat, either in whispering tête-à-têtes, or gossiping clusters; the bottles and decanters and wine-glasses, half emptied, and scattered477 about the tables—all dreary traces of a funeral festival. I entered the little breakfasting room. There were my father’s whip and spurs hanging by the fire-place, and his favorite pointer lying on the hearth-rug. The poor animal came fondling about me, and licked my hand, though he had never before noticed me; and then he looked round the room, and whined478, and wagged his tail slightly, and gazed wistfully in my face. I felt the full force of the appeal. “Poor Dash!” said I, “we are both alone in the world, with nobody to care for us, and we’ll take care of one another.” The dog never quitted me afterwards.
I could not go into my mother’s room: my heart swelled when I passed Within sight of the door. Her portrait hung in the parlor479, just over the place where she used to sit. As I cast my eyes on it I thought it looked at me with tenderness, and I burst into tears. My heart had long been seared by living in public schools, and buffeting124 about among strangers who cared nothing for me; but the recollection of a mother’s tenderness was overcoming.
I was not of an age or a temperament to be long depressed480. There was a reaction in my system that always brought me up again at every pressure; and indeed my spirits were most buoyant after a temporary prostration481. I settled the concerns of the estate as soon as possible; realized my property, which was not very considerable, but which appeared a vast deal to me, having a poetical eye that magnified everything; and finding myself, at the end of a few months, free of all farther business or restraint, I determined to go to London and enjoy myself. Why should not I?—I was young, animated482, joyous483; had plenty of funds for present pleasures, and my uncle’s estate in the perspective. Let those mope at college and pore over books, thought I, who have their way to make in the world; it would be ridiculous drudgery484 in a youth of my expectations.
Well, sir, away to London I rattled in a tandem485, determined to take the town gaily486. I passed through several of the villages where I had played the jack-pudding a few years before; and I visited the scenes of many of my adventures and follies487, merely from that feeling of melancholy pleasure which we have in stepping again into the footprints of foregone existence, even when they have passed among weeds and briars. I made a circuit in the latter part of my journey, so as to take in West End and Hempstead, the scenes of my last dramatic exploit, and of the battle royal of the booth. As I drove along the ridge488 of Hempstead Hill, by Jack Straw’s castle, I paused at the spot where Columbine and I had sat down so disconsolately in our ragged finery, and looked dubiously489 upon London. I almost expected to see her again, standing on the hill’s brink, “like Niobe all tears;”—mournful as Babylon in ruins!
“Poor Columbine!” said I, with a heavy sigh, “thou wert a gallant, generous girl—a true woman, faithful to the distressed, and ready to sacrifice thyself in the cause of worthless man!”
I tried to whistle off the recollection of her; for there was always Something of self-reproach with it. I drove gayly along the road, enjoying the stare of hostlers and stable-boys as I managed my horses knowingly down the steep street of Hempstead; when, just at the skirts of the village, one of the traces of my leader came loose. I pulled up; and as the animal was restive490 and my servant a bungler491, I called for assistance to the robustious master of a snug ale-house, who stood at his door with a tankard in his hand. He came readily to assist me, followed by his wife, with her bosom half open, a child in her arms, and two more at her heels. I stared for a moment as if doubting my eyes. I could not be mistaken; in the fat, beer-blown landlord of the ale-house I recognized my old rival Harlequin, and in his slattern spouse492, the once trim and dimpling Columbine.
The change of my looks, from youth to manhood, and the change of my circumstances, prevented them from recognizing me. They could not suspect, in the dashing young buck440, fashionably dressed, and driving his own equipage, their former comrade, the painted beau, with old peaked hat and long, flimsy, sky-blue coat. My heart yearned493 with kindness towards Columbine, and I was glad to see her establishment a thriving one. As soon as the harness was adjusted, I tossed a small purse of gold into her ample bosom; and then, pretending give my horses a hearty cut of the whip, I made the lash494 curl with a whistling about the sleek sides of ancient Harlequin. The horses dashed off like lightning, and I was whirled out of sight, before either of the parties could get over their surprise at my liberal donations. I have always considered this as one of the greatest proofs of my poetical genius. It was distributing poetical justice in perfection.
I now entered London en cavalier, and became a blood upon town. I took fashionable lodgings495 in the West End; employed the first tailor; frequented the regular lounges; gambled a little; lost my money good-humoredly, and gained a number of fashionable good-for-nothing acquaintances. Had I had more industry and ambition in my nature, I might have worked my way to the very height of fashion, as I saw many laborious496 gentlemen doing around me. But it is a toilsome, an anxious, and an unhappy life; there are few beings so sleepless497 and miserable as your cultivators of fashionable smiles.
I was quite content with that kind of society which forms the frontiers of fashion, and may be easily taken possession of. I found it a light, easy, productive soil. I had but to go about and sow visiting cards, and I reaped a whole harvest of invitations. Indeed, my figure and address were by no means against me. It was whispered, too, among the young ladies, that I was prodigiously498 clever, and wrote poetry; and the old ladies had ascertained500 that I was a young gentleman of good family, handsome fortune, and “great expectations.”
I now was carried away by the hurry of gay life, so intoxicating501 to a young man; and which a man of poetical temperament enjoys so highly on his first tasting of it. That rapid variety of sensations; that whirl of brilliant objects; that succession of pungent502 pleasures. I had no time for thought; I only felt. I never attempted to write poetry; my poetry seemed all to go off by transpiration503. I lived poetry; it was all a poetical dream to me. A mere sensualist knows nothing of the delights of a splendid metropolis. He lives in a round of animal gratifications and heartless habits. But to a young man of poetical feelings it is an ideal world; a scene of enchantment504 and delusion; his imagination is in perpetual excitement, and gives a spiritual zest to every pleasure.
A season of town life somewhat sobered me of my intoxication505; or rather I was rendered more serious by one of my old complaints—I fell in love. It was with a very pretty, though a very haughty506 fair one, who had come to London under the care of an old maiden507 aunt, to enjoy the pleasures of a winter in town, and to get married. There was not a doubt of her commanding a choice of lovers; for she had long been the belle508 of a little cathedral town; and one of the prebendaries had absolutely celebrated509 her beauty in a copy of Latin verses.
I paid my court to her, and was favorably received both by her and her aunt. Nay, I had a marked preference shown me over the younger son of a needy510 baronet, and a captain of dragoons on half pay. I did not absolutely take the field in form, for I was determined not to be precipitate511; but I drove my equipage frequently through the street in which she lived, and was always sure to see her at the window, generally with a book in her hand. I resumed my knack512 at rhyming, and sent her a long copy of verses; anonymously513 to be sure; but she knew my handwriting. They displayed, however, the most delightful ignorance on the subject. The young lady showed them to me; wondered who they could be written by; and declared there was nothing in this world she loved so much as poetry: while the maiden aunt would put her pinching spectacles on her nose, and read them, with blunders in sense and sound, that were excruciating to an author’s ears; protesting there was nothing equal to them in the whole elegant extracts.
The fashionable season closed without my adventuring to make a declaration, though. I certainly had encouragement. I was not perfectly sure that I had effected a lodgment in the young lady’s heart; and, to tell the truth, the aunt overdid514 her part, and was a little too extravagant515 in her liking of me. I knew that maiden aunts were not apt to be captivated by the mere personal merits of their nieces’ admirers, and I wanted to ascertain499 how much of all this favor I owed to my driving an equipage and having great expectations.
I had received many hints how charming their native town was during the summer months; what pleasant society they had; and what beautiful drives about the neighborhood. They had not, therefore, returned home long, before I made my appearance in dashing style, driving down the principal street. It is an easy thing to put a little quiet cathedral town in a buzz. The very next morning I was seen at prayers, seated in the pew of the reigning516 belle. All the congregation was in a flutter. The prebends eyed me from their stalls; questions were whispered about the aisles518 after service, “who is he?” and “what is he?” and the replies were as usual—“A young gentleman of good family and fortune, and great expectations.”
I was pleased with the peculiarities of a cathedral town, where I found I was a personage of some consequence. I was quite a brilliant acquisition to the young ladies of the cathedral circle, who were glad to have a beau that was not in a black coat and clerical wig.
You must know that there was a vast distinction between the classes of society of the town. As it was a place of some trade, there were many wealthy inhabitants among the commercial and manufacturing classes, who lived in style and gave many entertainments. Nothing of trade, however, was admitted into the cathedral circle—faugh! the thing could not be thought of. The cathedral circle, therefore, was apt to be very select, very dignified519, and very dull. They had evening parties, at which the old ladies played cards with the prebends, and the young ladies sat and looked on, and shifted from one chair to another about the room, until it was time to go home.
It was difficult to get up a ball, from the want of partners, the Cathedral circle being very deficient520 in dancers; and on those occasions, there was an occasional drafting among the dancing men of the other circle, who, however, were generally regarded with great reserve and condescension521 by the gentlemen in powdered wigs522. Several of the young ladies assured me, in confidence, that they had often looked with a wistful eye at the gayety of the other circle, where there was such plenty of young beaux, and where they all seemed to enjoy themselves so merrily; but that it would be degradation to think of descending523 from their sphere.
I admired the degree of old-fashioned ceremony and superannuated524 courtesy that prevailed in this little place. The bowings and courtseyings that would take place about the cathedral porch after morning service, where knots of old gentlemen and ladies would collect together to ask after each other’s health, and settle the card party for the evening. The little presents of fruits and delicacies525, and the thousand petty messages that would pass from house to house; for in a tranquil526 community like this, living entirely527 at ease, and having little to do, little duties and little civilities and little amusements, fill up the day. I have smiled, as I looked from my window on a quiet street near the cathedral, in the middle of a warm summer day, to see a corpulent powdered footman in rich livery, carrying a small tart248 on a large silver salver. A dainty titbit, sent, no doubt, by some worthy old dowager, to top off the dinner of her favorite prebend.
Nothing could be more delectable528, also, than the breaking up of one of their evening card parties. Such shaking of hands such mobbing up in cloaks and tippets! There were two or three old sedan chairs that did the duty of the whole place; though the greater part made their exit in clogs529 and pattens, with a footman or waiting-maid carrying a lanthorn in advance; and at a certain hour of the night the clank of pattens and the gleam of these jack lanthorns, here and there, about the quiet little town, gave notice that the cathedral card party had dissolved, and the luminaries530 were severally seeking their homes. To such a community, therefore, or at least to the female part of it, the accession of a gay, dashing young beau was a matter of some importance. The old ladies eyed me with complacency through their spectacles, and the young ladies pronounced me divine. Everybody received me favorably, excepting the gentleman who had written the Latin verses on the belle.—Not that he was jealous of my success with the lady, for he had no pretensions531 to her; but he heard my verses praised wherever he went, and he could not endure a rival with the muse.
I was thus carrying every thing before me. I was the Adonis of the Cathedral circle; when one evening there was a public ball which was attended likewise by the gentry532 of the neighborhood. I took great pains with my toilet on the occasion, and I had never looked better. I had determined that night to make my grand assault on the heart of the young lady, to batter533 it with all my forces, and the next morning to demand a surrender in due form.
I entered the ball-room amidst a buzz and flutter, which generally took place among the young ladies on my appearance. I was in fine spirits; for to tell the truth, I had exhilarated myself by a cheerful glass of wine on the occasion. I talked, and rattled, and said a thousand silly things, slap-dash, with all the confidence of a man sure of his auditors; and every thing had its effect.
In the midst of my triumph I observed a little knot gathering534 together in the upper part of the room. By degrees it increased. A tittering broke out there; and glances were cast round at me, and then there would be fresh tittering. Some of the young ladies would hurry away to distant parts of the room, and whisper to their friends; wherever they went there was still this tittering and glancing at me. I did not know what to make of all this. I looked at myself from head to foot; and peeped at my back in a glass, to see if any thing was odd about my person; any awkward exposure; any whimsical tag hanging out—no—every thing was right. I was a perfect picture.
I determined that it must be some choice saying of mine, that was handled about in this knot of merry beauties, and I determined to enjoy one of my good things in the rebound535.
I stepped gently, therefore, up the room, smiling at every one as I passed, who I must say all smiled and tittered in return. I approached the group, smirking536 and perking537 my chin, like a man who is full of pleasant feeling, and sure of being well received. The cluster of little belles538 opened as I advanced.
Heavens and earth! whom should I perceive in the midst of them, but my early and tormenting539 flame, the everlasting540 Sacharissa! She was grown up, it is true, into the full beauty of womanhood, but showed by the provoking merriment of her countenance, that she perfectly recollected me, and the ridiculous flagellations of which she had twice been the cause.
I saw at once the exterminating541 cloud of ridicule that was bursting over me. My crest542 fell. The flame of love went suddenly out in my bosom; or was extinguished by overwhelming shame. How I got down the room I know not; I fancied every one tittering at me. Just as I reached the door, I caught a glance of my mistress and her aunt, listening to the whispers of my poetic18 rival; the old lady raising her hands and eyes, and the face of the young one lighted up with scorn ineffable543. I paused to see no more; but made two steps from the top of the stairs to the bottom. The next morning, before sunrise, I beat a retreat; and did not feel the blushes cool from my tingling544 cheeks until I had lost sight of the old towers of the cathedral.
I now returned to town thoughtful and crestfallen545. My money was nearly spent, for I had lived freely and without calculation. The dream of love was over, and the reign517 of pleasure at an end. I determined to retrench546 while I had yet a trifle left; so selling my equipage and horses for half their value, I quietly put the money in my pocket and turned pedestrian. I had not a doubt that, with my great expectations, I could at any time raise funds, either on usury547 or by borrowing; but I was principled against both one and the other; and resolved, by strict economy, to make my slender purse hold out, until my uncle should give up the ghost; or rather, the estate.
I stayed at home, therefore, and read, and would have written; but I had already suffered too much from my poetical productions, which had generally involved me in some ridiculous scrape. I gradually acquired a rusty look, and had a straightened, money-borrowing air, upon which the world began to shy me. I have never felt disposed to quarrel with the world for its conduct. It has always used me well. When I have been flush, and gay, and disposed for society, it has caressed548 me; and when I have been pinched, and reduced, and wished to be alone, why, it has left me alone, and what more could a man desire?—Take my word for it, this world is a more obliging world than people generally represent it.
Well, sir, in the midst of my retrenchment549, my retirement, and my studiousness, I received news that my uncle was dangerously ill. I hastened on the wings of an heir’s affection to receive his dying breath and his last testament550. I found him attended by his faithful valet, old Iron John; by the woman who occasionally worked about the house; and by the foxy-headed boy, young Orson, whom I had occasionally hunted about the park.
Iron John gasped551 a kind of asthmatical salutation as I entered the room, and received me with something almost like a smile of welcome. The woman sat blubbering at the foot of the bed; and the foxy-headed Orson, who had now grown to be a lubberly lout552, stood gazing in stupid vacancy553 at a distance.
My uncle lay stretched upon his back. The chamber was without a fire, or any of the comforts of a sick-room. The cobwebs flaunted554 from the ceiling. The tester was covered with dust, and the curtains were tattered. From underneath555 the bed peeped out one end of his strong box. Against the wainscot were suspended rusty blunderbusses, horse pistols, and a cut-and-thrust sword, with which he had fortified556 his room to defend his life and treasure. He had employed no physician during his illness, and from the scanty557 relics558 lying on the table, seemed almost to have denied himself the assistance of a cook.
When I entered the room he was lying motionless; with his eyes fixed559 and his mouth open; at the first look I thought him a corpse560. The noise of my entrance made him turn his head. At the sight of me a ghastly smile came over his face, and his glazing561 eye gleamed with satisfaction. It was the only smile he had ever given me, and it went to my heart. “Poor old man!” thought I, “why would you not let me love you?—Why would you force me to leave you thus desolate, when I see that my presence has the power to cheer you?”
“Nephew,” said he, after several efforts, and in a low gasping562 voice —“I am glad you are come. I shall now die with satisfaction. Look,” said he, raising his withered hand and pointing—“look—in that box on the table you will find that I have not forgotten you.”
I pressed his hand to my heart, and the tears stood in my eyes. I sat down by his bed-side, and watched him, but he never spoke again. My presence, however, gave him evident satisfaction—for every now and then, as he looked at me, a vague smile would come over his visage, and he would feebly point to the sealed box on the table. As the day wore away, his life seemed to wear away with it. Towards sunset, his hand sunk on the bed and lay motionless; his eyes grew glazed563; his mouth remained open, and thus he gradually died.
I could not but feel shocked at this absolute extinction564 of my kindred. I dropped a tear of real sorrow over this strange old man, who had thus reserved his smile of kindness to his deathbed; like an evening sun after a gloomy day, just shining out to set in darkness. Leaving the corpse in charge of the domestics, I retired565 for the night.
It was a rough night. The winds seemed as if singing my uncle’s requiem566 about the mansion; and the bloodhounds howled without as if they knew of the death of their old master. Iron John almost grudged567 me the tallow candle to burn in my apartment and light up its dreariness; so accustomed had he been to starveling economy. I could not sleep. The recollection of my uncle’s dying scene and the dreary sounds about the house, affected my mind. These, however, were succeeded by plans for the future, and I lay awake the greater part of the night, indulging the poetical anticipation259, how soon I would make these old walls ring with cheerful life, and restore the hospitality of my mother’s ancestors.
My uncle’s funeral was decent, but private, I knew there was nobody That respected his memory; and I was determined that none should be summoned to sneer568 over his funeral wines, and make merry at his grave. He was buried in the church of the neighboring village, though it was not the burying place of his race; but he had expressly enjoined569 that he should not be buried with his family; he had quarrelled with the most of them when living, and he carried his resentments570 even into the grave.
I defrayed the expenses of the funeral out of my own purse, that I might have done with the undertakers at once, and clear the ill-omened birds from the premises. I invited the parson of the parish, and the lawyer from the village to attend at the house the next morning and hear the reading of the will. I treated them to an excellent breakfast, a profusion571 that had not been seen at the house for many a year. As soon as the breakfast things were removed, I summoned Iron John, the woman, and the boy, for I was particular of having every one present and proceeding572 regularly. The box was placed on the table. All was silence. I broke the seal; raised the lid; and beheld—not the will, but my accursed poem of Doubting Castle and Giant Despair!
Could any mortal have conceived that this old withered man; so taciturn, and apparently lost to feeling, could have treasured up for years the thoughtless pleasantry of a boy, to punish him with such cruel ingenuity573? I could now account for his dying smile, the only one he had ever given me. He had been a grave man all his life; it was strange that he should die in the enjoyment of a joke; and it was hard that that joke should be at my expense.
The lawyer and the parson seemed at a loss to comprehend the matter. “Here must be some mistake,” said the lawyer, “there is no will here.”
“Oh,” said Iron John, creaking forth his rusty jaws, “if it is a will you are looking for, I believe I can find one.”
He retired with the same singular smile with which he had greeted me on my arrival, and which I now apprehended574 boded575 me no good. In a little while he returned with a will perfect at all points, properly signed and sealed and witnessed; worded with horrible correctness; in which he left large legacies576 to Iron John and his daughter, and the residue577 of his fortune to the foxy-headed boy; who, to my utter astonishment578, was his son by this very woman; he having married her privately579; and, as I verily believe, for no other purpose than to have an heir, and so baulk my father and his issue of the inheritance. There was one little proviso, in which he mentioned that having discovered his nephew to have a pretty turn for poetry, he presumed he had no occasion for wealth; he recommended him, however, to the patronage580 of his heir; and requested that he might have a garret, rent free, in Doubting Castle.
Mr. Buckthorne had paused at the death of his uncle, and the downfall of his great expectations, which formed, as he said, an epoch581 in his history; and it was not until some little time afterwards, and in a very sober mood, that he resumed his particolored narrative582.
After leaving the domains583 of my defunct584 uncle, said he, when the gate Closed between me and what was once to have been mine, I felt thrust out naked into the world, and completely abandoned to fortune. What was to become of me? I had been brought up to nothing but expectations, and they had all been disappointed. I had no relations to look to for counsel or assistance. The world seemed all to have died away from me. Wave after wave of relationship had ebbed585 off, and I was left a mere hulk upon the strand586. I am not apt to be greatly cast down, but at this, time I felt sadly disheartened. I could not realize my situation, nor form a conjecture587 how I was to get forward.
I was now to endeavor to make money. The idea was new and strange to me. It was like being asked to discover the philosopher’s stone. I had never thought about money, other than to put my hand into my pocket and find it, or if there were none there, to wait until a new supply came from home. I had considered life as a mere space of time to be filled up with enjoyments588; but to have it portioned out into long hours and days of toil116, merely that I might gain bread to give me strength to toil on; to labor243 but for the purpose of perpetuating589 a life of labor was new and appalling590 to me. This may appear a very simple matter to some, but it will be understood by every unlucky wight in my predicament, who has had the misfortune of being born to great expectations.
I passed several days in rambling about the scenes of my boyhood; partly because I absolutely did not know what to do with myself, and partly because I did not know that I should ever see them again. I clung to them as one clings to a wreck, though he knows he must eventually cast himself loose and swim for his life. I sat down on a hill within sight of my paternal home, but I did not venture to approach it, for I felt compunction at the thoughtlessness with which I had dissipated my patrimony591. But was I to blame, when I had the rich possessions of my curmudgeon of an uncle in expectation?
The new possessor of the place was making great alterations592. The house was almost rebuilt. The trees which stood about it were cut down; my mother’s flower-garden was thrown into a lawn; all was undergoing a change. I turned my back upon it with a sigh, and rambled203 to another part of the country.
How thoughtful a little adversity makes one. As I came in sight of the school-house where I had so often been flogged in the cause of wisdom, you would hardly have recognized the truant boy who but a few years since had eloped so heedlessly from its walls. I leaned over the paling of the playground, and watched the scholars at their games, and looked to see if there might not be some urchin among them, like I was once, full of gay dreams about life and the world. The play-ground seemed smaller than when I used to sport about it. The house and park, too, of the neighboring squire, the father of the cruel Sacharissa, had shrunk in size and diminished in magnificence. The distant hills no longer appeared so far off, and, alas! no longer awakened ideas of a fairy land beyond.
As I was rambling pensively593 through a neighboring meadow, in which I had many a time gathered primroses594, I met the very pedagogue who had been the tyrant and dread of my boyhood. I had sometimes vowed to myself, when suffering under his rod, that I would have my revenge if ever I met him when I had grown to be a man. The time had come; but I had no disposition to keep my vow. The few years which had matured me into a vigorous man had shrunk him into decrepitude595. He appeared to have had a paralytic596 stroke. I looked at him, and wondered that this poor helpless mortal could have been an object of terror to me! That I should have watched with anxiety the glance of that failing eye, or dreaded the power of that trembling hand! He tottered597 feebly along the path, and had some difficulty in getting over a stile. I ran and assisted him. He looked at me with surprise, but did not recognize me, and made a low bow of humility598 and thanks. I had no disposition to make myself known, for I felt that I had nothing to boast of. The pains he had taken and the pains he had inflicted599 had been equally useless. His repeated predictions were fully verified, and I felt that little Jack Buckthorne, the idle boy, had grown up to be a very good-for-nothing man.
This is all very comfortless detail; but as I have told you of my follies, it is meet that I show you how for once I was schooled for them.
The most thoughtless of mortals will some time or other have this day of gloom, when he will be compelled to reflect. I felt on this occasion as if I had a kind of penance600 to perform, and I made a pilgrimage in expiation601 of my past levity602.
Having passed a night at Leamington, I set off by a private path which leads up a hill, through a grove28, and across quiet fields, until I came to the small village, or rather hamlet of Lenington. I sought the village church. It is an old low edifice431 of gray stone on the brow of a small hill, looking over fertile fields to where the proud towers of Warwick Castle lifted themselves against the distant horizon. A part of the church-yard is shaded by large trees. Under one of these my mother lay buried. You have, no doubt, thought me a light, heartless being. I thought myself so—but there are moments of adversity which let us into some feelings of our nature, to which we might otherwise remain perpetual strangers.
I sought my mother’s grave. The weeds were already matted over it, and the tombstone was half hid among nettles603. I cleared them away and they stung my hands; but I was heedless of the pain, for my heart ached too severely. I sat down on the grave, and read over and over again the epitaph on the stone. It was simple, but it was true. I had written it myself. I had tried to write a poetical epitaph, but in vain; my feelings refused to utter themselves in rhyme. My heart had gradually been filling during my lonely wanderings; it was now charged to the brim and overflowed604. I sank upon the grave and buried my face in the tall grass and wept like a child. Yes, I wept in manhood upon the grave, as I had in infancy605 upon the bosom of my mother. Alas! how little do we appreciate a mother’s tenderness while living! How heedless are we in youth, of all her anxieties and kindness. But when she is dead and gone; when the cares and coldness of the world come withering606 to our hearts; when we find how hard it is to find true sympathy, how few love us for ourselves, how few will befriend us in our misfortunes; then it is we think of the mother we have lost. It is true I had always loved my mother, even in my most heedless days; but I felt how inconsiderate and ineffectual had been my love. My heart melted as I retraced607 the days of infancy, when I was led by a mother’s hand and rocked to sleep in a mother’s arms, and was without care or sorrow. “Oh, my mother!” exclaimed I, burying my face again in the grass of the grave—“Oh, that I were once more by your side; sleeping, never to wake again, on the cares and troubles of this world!”
I am not naturally of a morbid608 temperament, and the violence of my emotion gradually exhausted itself. It was a hearty, honest, natural discharge of griefs which had been slowly accumulating, and gave me wonderful relief. I rose from the grave as if I had been offering up a sacrifice, and I felt as if that sacrifice had been accepted.
I sat down again on the grass, and plucked, one by one, the weeds from her grave; the tears trickled609 more slowly down my cheeks, and ceased to be bitter. It was a comfort to think that she had died before sorrow and poverty came upon her child, and that all his great expectations were blasted.
I leaned my cheek upon my hand and looked upon the landscape. Its quiet beauty soothed610 me. The whistle of a peasant from an adjoining field came cheerily to my ear. I seemed to respire hope and comfort with the free air that whispered through the leaves and played lightly with my hair, and dried the tears upon my cheek. A lark611, rising from the field before me, and leaving, as it were, a stream of song behind him as he rose, lifted my fancy with him. He hovered612 in the air just above the place where the towers of Warwick Castle marked the horizon; and seemed as if fluttering with delight at his own melody. “Surely,” thought I, “if there were such a thing as transmigration of souls, this might be taken for some poet, let loose from earth, but still revelling in song, and carolling about fair fields and lordly towns.”
At this moment the long forgotten feeling of poetry rose within me. A Thought sprung at once into my mind: “I will become an author,” said I. “I have hitherto indulged in poetry as a pleasure, and it has brought me nothing but pain. Let me try what it will do, when I cultivate it with devotion as a pursuit.”
The resolution, thus suddenly aroused within me, heaved a load from off my heart. I felt a confidence in it from the very place where it was formed. It seemed as though my mother’s spirit whispered it to me from her grave. “I will henceforth,” said I, “endeavor to be all that she fondly imagined me. I will endeavor to act as if she were witness of my actions. I will endeavor to acquit613 myself in such manner, that when I revisit her grave there may, at least, be no compunctious bitterness in my tears.”
I bowed down and kissed the turf in solemn attestation614 of my vow. I plucked some primroses that were growing there and laid them next my heart. I left the church-yard with my spirits once more lifted up, and set out a third time for London, in the character of an author.
Here my companion made a pause, and I waited in anxious suspense; hoping to have a whole volume of literary life unfolded to me. He seemed, however, to have sunk into a fit of pensive musing460; and when after some time I gently roused him by a question or two as to his literary career. “No,” said he smiling, “over that part of my story I wish to leave a cloud. Let the mysteries of the craft rest sacred for me. Let those who have never adventured into the republic of letters, still look upon it as a fairy land. Let them suppose the author the very being they picture him from his works; I am not the man to mar9 their illusion. I am not the man to hint, while one is admiring the silken web of Persia, that it has been spun615 from the entrails of a miserable worm.”
“Well,” said I, “if you will tell me nothing of your literary history, let me know at least if you have had any farther intelligence from Doubting Castle.”
“Willingly,” replied he, “though I have but little to communicate.”
点击收听单词发音
1 lodge | |
v.临时住宿,寄宿,寄存,容纳;n.传达室,小旅馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
2 penurious | |
adj.贫困的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
3 curmudgeon | |
n. 脾气暴躁之人,守财奴,吝啬鬼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
4 con | |
n.反对的观点,反对者,反对票,肺病;vt.精读,学习,默记;adv.反对地,从反面;adj.欺诈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
5 inveterate | |
adj.积习已深的,根深蒂固的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
6 miser | |
n.守财奴,吝啬鬼 (adj.miserly) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
7 hoarded | |
v.积蓄并储藏(某物)( hoard的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
8 grudge | |
n.不满,怨恨,妒嫉;vt.勉强给,不情愿做 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
9 mar | |
vt.破坏,毁坏,弄糟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
10 pique | |
v.伤害…的自尊心,使生气 n.不满,生气 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
11 overflows | |
v.溢出,淹没( overflow的第三人称单数 );充满;挤满了人;扩展出界,过度延伸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
12 hardy | |
adj.勇敢的,果断的,吃苦的;耐寒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
13 conscientious | |
adj.审慎正直的,认真的,本着良心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
14 par | |
n.标准,票面价值,平均数量;adj.票面的,平常的,标准的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
15 incorrigible | |
adj.难以纠正的,屡教不改的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
16 laggard | |
n.落后者;adj.缓慢的,落后的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
17 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
18 poetic | |
adj.富有诗意的,有诗人气质的,善于抒情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
19 prone | |
adj.(to)易于…的,很可能…的;俯卧的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
20 ramble | |
v.漫步,漫谈,漫游;n.漫步,闲谈,蔓延 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
21 bout | |
n.侵袭,发作;一次(阵,回);拳击等比赛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
22 temperament | |
n.气质,性格,性情 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
23 mansion | |
n.大厦,大楼;宅第 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
24 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
25 spire | |
n.(教堂)尖顶,尖塔,高点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
26 glistening | |
adj.闪耀的,反光的v.湿物闪耀,闪亮( glisten的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
27 willow | |
n.柳树 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
28 grove | |
n.林子,小树林,园林 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
29 groves | |
树丛,小树林( grove的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
30 kin | |
n.家族,亲属,血缘关系;adj.亲属关系的,同类的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
31 lament | |
n.悲叹,悔恨,恸哭;v.哀悼,悔恨,悲叹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
32 reverence | |
n.敬畏,尊敬,尊严;Reverence:对某些基督教神职人员的尊称;v.尊敬,敬畏,崇敬 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
33 squire | |
n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
34 manor | |
n.庄园,领地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
35 spacious | |
adj.广阔的,宽敞的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
36 consecrated | |
adj.神圣的,被视为神圣的v.把…奉为神圣,给…祝圣( consecrate的过去式和过去分词 );奉献 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
37 deity | |
n.神,神性;被奉若神明的人(或物) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
38 humbled | |
adj. 卑下的,谦逊的,粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下,贬低 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
39 cane | |
n.手杖,细长的茎,藤条;v.以杖击,以藤编制的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
40 aisle | |
n.(教堂、教室、戏院等里的)过道,通道 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
41 vice | |
n.坏事;恶习;[pl.]台钳,老虎钳;adj.副的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
42 humbling | |
adj.令人羞辱的v.使谦恭( humble的现在分词 );轻松打败(尤指强大的对手);低声下气 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
43 devoutly | |
adv.虔诚地,虔敬地,衷心地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
44 velvet | |
n.丝绒,天鹅绒;adj.丝绒制的,柔软的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
45 meekness | |
n.温顺,柔和 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
46 spoke | |
n.(车轮的)辐条;轮辐;破坏某人的计划;阻挠某人的行动 v.讲,谈(speak的过去式);说;演说;从某种观点来说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
47 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
48 desperately | |
adv.极度渴望地,绝望地,孤注一掷地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
49 truant | |
n.懒惰鬼,旷课者;adj.偷懒的,旷课的,游荡的;v.偷懒,旷课 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
50 lurk | |
n.潜伏,潜行;v.潜藏,潜伏,埋伏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
51 impudence | |
n.厚颜无耻;冒失;无礼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
52 concealment | |
n.隐藏, 掩盖,隐瞒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
53 arrant | |
adj.极端的;最大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
54 sylvan | |
adj.森林的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
55 awakening | |
n.觉醒,醒悟 adj.觉醒中的;唤醒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
56 bosom | |
n.胸,胸部;胸怀;内心;adj.亲密的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
57 purloined | |
v.偷窃( purloin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
58 applied | |
adj.应用的;v.应用,适用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
59 lavished | |
v.过分给予,滥施( lavish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
60 awe | |
n.敬畏,惊惧;vt.使敬畏,使惊惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
61 embarrassment | |
n.尴尬;使人为难的人(事物);障碍;窘迫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
62 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
63 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
64 trespassing | |
[法]非法入侵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
65 votary | |
n.崇拜者;爱好者;adj.誓约的,立誓任圣职的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
66 muse | |
n.缪斯(希腊神话中的女神),创作灵感 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
67 martyr | |
n.烈士,殉难者;vt.杀害,折磨,牺牲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
68 ignominious | |
adj.可鄙的,不光彩的,耻辱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
69 incurred | |
[医]招致的,遭受的; incur的过去式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
70 arrogance | |
n.傲慢,自大 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
71 surmise | |
v./n.猜想,推测 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
72 ballad | |
n.歌谣,民谣,流行爱情歌曲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
73 withered | |
adj. 枯萎的,干瘪的,(人身体的部分器官)因病萎缩的或未发育良好的 动词wither的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
74 desolate | |
adj.荒凉的,荒芜的;孤独的,凄凉的;v.使荒芜,使孤寂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
75 niggardliness | |
参考例句: |
|
|
76 morsel | |
n.一口,一点点 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
77 stagnant | |
adj.不流动的,停滞的,不景气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
78 urns | |
n.壶( urn的名词复数 );瓮;缸;骨灰瓮 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
79 molested | |
v.骚扰( molest的过去式和过去分词 );干扰;调戏;猥亵 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
80 premises | |
n.建筑物,房屋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
81 apprehensive | |
adj.担心的,恐惧的,善于领会的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
82 dread | |
vt.担忧,忧虑;惧怕,不敢;n.担忧,畏惧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
83 devour | |
v.吞没;贪婪地注视或谛听,贪读;使着迷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
84 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
85 apprised | |
v.告知,通知( apprise的过去式和过去分词 );评价 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
86 sufficiently | |
adv.足够地,充分地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
87 solitary | |
adj.孤独的,独立的,荒凉的;n.隐士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
88 pointed | |
adj.尖的,直截了当的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
89 perfectly | |
adv.完美地,无可非议地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
90 wig | |
n.假发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
91 predecessor | |
n.前辈,前任 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
92 jaws | |
n.口部;嘴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
93 rusty | |
adj.生锈的;锈色的;荒废了的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
94 peculiarities | |
n. 特质, 特性, 怪癖, 古怪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
95 desolateness | |
孤独 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
96 rambling | |
adj.[建]凌乱的,杂乱的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
97 ragged | |
adj.衣衫褴褛的,粗糙的,刺耳的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
98 urchin | |
n.顽童;海胆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
99 imbibed | |
v.吸收( imbibe的过去式和过去分词 );喝;吸取;吸气 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
100 aloof | |
adj.远离的;冷淡的,漠不关心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
101 scamper | |
v.奔跑,快跑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
102 cant | |
n.斜穿,黑话,猛扔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
103 garrisoned | |
卫戍部队守备( garrison的过去式和过去分词 ); 派部队驻防 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
104 jack | |
n.插座,千斤顶,男人;v.抬起,提醒,扛举;n.(Jake)杰克 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
105 cork | |
n.软木,软木塞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
106 drawn | |
v.拖,拉,拔出;adj.憔悴的,紧张的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
107 citadel | |
n.城堡;堡垒;避难所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
108 crumbled | |
(把…)弄碎, (使)碎成细屑( crumble的过去式和过去分词 ); 衰落; 坍塌; 损坏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
109 rumble | |
n.隆隆声;吵嚷;v.隆隆响;低沉地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
110 mouldered | |
v.腐朽( moulder的过去式和过去分词 );腐烂,崩塌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
111 chambers | |
n.房间( chamber的名词复数 );(议会的)议院;卧室;会议厅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
112 chamber | |
n.房间,寝室;会议厅;议院;会所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
113 shutter | |
n.百叶窗;(照相机)快门;关闭装置 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
114 renovate | |
vt.更新,革新,刷新 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
115 jocundity | |
n.欢乐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
116 toil | |
vi.辛劳工作,艰难地行动;n.苦工,难事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
117 adorning | |
修饰,装饰物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
118 anatomy | |
n.解剖学,解剖;功能,结构,组织 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
119 groan | |
vi./n.呻吟,抱怨;(发出)呻吟般的声音 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
120 scribbling | |
n.乱涂[写]胡[乱]写的文章[作品]v.潦草的书写( scribble的现在分词 );乱画;草草地写;匆匆记下 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
121 gushes | |
n.涌出,迸发( gush的名词复数 )v.喷,涌( gush的第三人称单数 );滔滔不绝地说话 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
122 disposition | |
n.性情,性格;意向,倾向;排列,部署 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
123 buffeted | |
反复敲打( buffet的过去式和过去分词 ); 连续猛击; 打来打去; 推来搡去 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
124 buffeting | |
振动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
125 diversifying | |
v.使多样化,多样化( diversify的现在分词 );进入新的商业领域 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
126 dreariness | |
沉寂,可怕,凄凉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
127 vagrant | |
n.流浪者,游民;adj.流浪的,漂泊不定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
128 dribble | |
v.点滴留下,流口水;n.口水 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
129 propensities | |
n.倾向,习性( propensity的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
130 metropolis | |
n.首府;大城市 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
131 wagon | |
n.四轮马车,手推车,面包车;无盖运货列车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
132 trudging | |
vt.& vi.跋涉,吃力地走(trudge的现在分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
133 ponderous | |
adj.沉重的,笨重的,(文章)冗长的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
134 tempting | |
a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
135 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
136 propensity | |
n.倾向;习性 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
137 counteracted | |
对抗,抵消( counteract的过去式 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
138 severed | |
v.切断,断绝( sever的过去式和过去分词 );断,裂 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
139 penury | |
n.贫穷,拮据 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
140 agitated | |
adj.被鼓动的,不安的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
141 agitate | |
vi.(for,against)煽动,鼓动;vt.搅动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
142 caravan | |
n.大蓬车;活动房屋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
143 caravans | |
(可供居住的)拖车(通常由机动车拖行)( caravan的名词复数 ); 篷车; (穿过沙漠地带的)旅行队(如商队) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
144 annually | |
adv.一年一次,每年 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
145 awakened | |
v.(使)醒( awaken的过去式和过去分词 );(使)觉醒;弄醒;(使)意识到 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
146 bustle | |
v.喧扰地忙乱,匆忙,奔忙;n.忙碌;喧闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
147 followers | |
追随者( follower的名词复数 ); 用户; 契据的附面; 从动件 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
148 eloquence | |
n.雄辩;口才,修辞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
149 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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
150 feats | |
功绩,伟业,技艺( feat的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
151 equestrians | |
n.骑手(equestrian的复数形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
152 itinerant | |
adj.巡回的;流动的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
153 farce | |
n.闹剧,笑剧,滑稽戏;胡闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
154 derived | |
vi.起源;由来;衍生;导出v.得到( derive的过去式和过去分词 );(从…中)得到获得;源于;(从…中)提取 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
155 ferocious | |
adj.凶猛的,残暴的,极度的,十分强烈的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
156 tyrant | |
n.暴君,专制的君主,残暴的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
157 skull | |
n.头骨;颅骨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
158 inverted | |
adj.反向的,倒转的v.使倒置,使反转( invert的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
159 embroidered | |
adj.绣花的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
160 gilt | |
adj.镀金的;n.金边证券 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
161 eyebrows | |
眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
162 enraptured | |
v.使狂喜( enrapture的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
163 distress | |
n.苦恼,痛苦,不舒适;不幸;vt.使悲痛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
164 distressed | |
痛苦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
165 captivity | |
n.囚禁;被俘;束缚 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
166 wrung | |
绞( wring的过去式和过去分词 ); 握紧(尤指别人的手); 把(湿衣服)拧干; 绞掉(水) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
167 swarming | |
密集( swarm的现在分词 ); 云集; 成群地移动; 蜜蜂或其他飞行昆虫成群地飞来飞去 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
168 tumult | |
n.喧哗;激动,混乱;吵闹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
169 flaunting | |
adj.招摇的,扬扬得意的,夸耀的v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的现在分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
170 gaudy | |
adj.华而不实的;俗丽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
171 uproar | |
n.骚动,喧嚣,鼎沸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
172 trumpets | |
喇叭( trumpet的名词复数 ); 小号; 喇叭形物; (尤指)绽开的水仙花 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
173 fiddles | |
n.小提琴( fiddle的名词复数 );欺诈;(需要运用手指功夫的)细巧活动;当第二把手v.伪造( fiddle的第三人称单数 );篡改;骗取;修理或稍作改动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
174 fiddle | |
n.小提琴;vi.拉提琴;不停拨弄,乱动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
175 cymbals | |
pl.铙钹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
176 mingled | |
混合,混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 ); 混进,与…交往[联系] | |
参考例句: |
|
|
177 harangues | |
n.高谈阔论的长篇演讲( harangue的名词复数 )v.高谈阔论( harangue的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
178 squeaking | |
v.短促地尖叫( squeak的现在分词 );吱吱叫;告密;充当告密者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
179 distraction | |
n.精神涣散,精神不集中,消遣,娱乐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
180 conveyance | |
n.(不动产等的)转让,让与;转让证书;传送;运送;表达;(正)运输工具 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
181 usher | |
n.带位员,招待员;vt.引导,护送;vi.做招待,担任引座员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
182 delinquent | |
adj.犯法的,有过失的;n.违法者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
183 expiated | |
v.为(所犯罪过)接受惩罚,赎(罪)( expiate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
184 pedagogue | |
n.教师 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
185 humiliation | |
n.羞辱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
186 alas | |
int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
187 delightful | |
adj.令人高兴的,使人快乐的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
188 perplexed | |
adj.不知所措的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
189 margin | |
n.页边空白;差额;余地,余裕;边,边缘 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
190 aperture | |
n.孔,隙,窄的缺口 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
191 refreshing | |
adj.使精神振作的,使人清爽的,使人喜欢的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
192 auditors | |
n.审计员,稽核员( auditor的名词复数 );(大学课程的)旁听生 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
193 strutted | |
趾高气扬地走,高视阔步( strut的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
194 afflicted | |
使受痛苦,折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
195 quaffing | |
v.痛饮( quaff的现在分词 );畅饮;大口大口将…喝干;一饮而尽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
196 monks | |
n.修道士,僧侣( monk的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
197 virgins | |
处女,童男( virgin的名词复数 ); 童贞玛利亚(耶稣之母) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
198 outrageously | |
凶残地; 肆无忌惮地; 令人不能容忍地; 不寻常地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
199 enjoyment | |
n.乐趣;享有;享用 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
200 burlesque | |
v.嘲弄,戏仿;n.嘲弄,取笑,滑稽模仿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
201 allusions | |
暗指,间接提到( allusion的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
202 scrambled | |
v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 );攀登;争夺;(军事飞机)紧急起飞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
203 rambled | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的过去式和过去分词 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
204 judgment | |
n.审判;判断力,识别力,看法,意见 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
205 corps | |
n.(通信等兵种的)部队;(同类作的)一组 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
206 abashed | |
adj.窘迫的,尴尬的v.使羞愧,使局促,使窘迫( abash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
207 smeared | |
弄脏; 玷污; 涂抹; 擦上 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
208 majestic | |
adj.雄伟的,壮丽的,庄严的,威严的,崇高的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
209 plume | |
n.羽毛;v.整理羽毛,骚首弄姿,用羽毛装饰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
210 bonnet | |
n.无边女帽;童帽 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
211 scrutiny | |
n.详细检查,仔细观察 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
212 suspense | |
n.(对可能发生的事)紧张感,担心,挂虑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
213 accomplishments | |
n.造诣;完成( accomplishment的名词复数 );技能;成绩;成就 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
214 spout | |
v.喷出,涌出;滔滔不绝地讲;n.喷管;水柱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
215 behold | |
v.看,注视,看到 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
216 buffoon | |
n.演出时的丑角 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
217 debut | |
n.首次演出,初次露面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
218 ornamented | |
adj.花式字体的v.装饰,点缀,美化( ornament的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
219 snug | |
adj.温暖舒适的,合身的,安全的;v.使整洁干净,舒适地依靠,紧贴;n.(英)酒吧里的私房 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
220 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
221 grovelling | |
adj.卑下的,奴颜婢膝的v.卑躬屈节,奴颜婢膝( grovel的现在分词 );趴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
222 inclinations | |
倾向( inclination的名词复数 ); 倾斜; 爱好; 斜坡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
223 vindicate | |
v.为…辩护或辩解,辩明;证明…正确 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
224 seduced | |
诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 ); 勾引; 诱使堕落; 使入迷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
225 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
226 brutally | |
adv.残忍地,野蛮地,冷酷无情地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
227 relish | |
n.滋味,享受,爱好,调味品;vt.加调味料,享受,品味;vi.有滋味 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
228 mingling | |
adj.混合的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
229 mountebank | |
n.江湖郎中;骗子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
230 buffoons | |
n.愚蠢的人( buffoon的名词复数 );傻瓜;逗乐小丑;滑稽的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
231 vivacity | |
n.快活,活泼,精神充沛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
232 enveloped | |
v.包围,笼罩,包住( envelop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
233 delusion | |
n.谬见,欺骗,幻觉,迷惑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
234 poetically | |
adv.有诗意地,用韵文 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
235 picturesqueness | |
参考例句: |
|
|
236 corrupted | |
(使)败坏( corrupt的过去式和过去分词 ); (使)腐化; 引起(计算机文件等的)错误; 破坏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
237 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
238 ordeal | |
n.苦难经历,(尤指对品格、耐力的)严峻考验 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
239 capered | |
v.跳跃,雀跃( caper的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
240 disappearance | |
n.消失,消散,失踪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
241 scruple | |
n./v.顾忌,迟疑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
242 indifference | |
n.不感兴趣,不关心,冷淡,不在乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
243 labor | |
n.劳动,努力,工作,劳工;分娩;vi.劳动,努力,苦干;vt.详细分析;麻烦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
244 laboring | |
n.劳动,操劳v.努力争取(for)( labor的现在分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
245 vocations | |
n.(认为特别适合自己的)职业( vocation的名词复数 );使命;神召;(认为某种工作或生活方式特别适合自己的)信心 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
246 folly | |
n.愚笨,愚蠢,蠢事,蠢行,傻话 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
247 rattled | |
慌乱的,恼火的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
248 tart | |
adj.酸的;尖酸的,刻薄的;n.果馅饼;淫妇 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
249 gambols | |
v.蹦跳,跳跃,嬉戏( gambol的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
250 cuffing | |
v.掌打,拳打( cuff的现在分词 );袖口状白血球聚集 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
251 prodigious | |
adj.惊人的,奇妙的;异常的;巨大的;庞大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
252 troupe | |
n.剧团,戏班;杂技团;马戏团 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
253 theatrical | |
adj.剧场的,演戏的;做戏似的,做作的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
254 foraging | |
v.搜寻(食物),尤指动物觅(食)( forage的现在分词 );(尤指用手)搜寻(东西) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
255 desultory | |
adj.散漫的,无方法的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
256 revelling | |
v.作乐( revel的现在分词 );狂欢;着迷;陶醉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
257 scantily | |
adv.缺乏地;不充足地;吝啬地;狭窄地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
258 anticipations | |
预期( anticipation的名词复数 ); 预测; (信托财产收益的)预支; 预期的事物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
259 anticipation | |
n.预期,预料,期望 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
260 wagons | |
n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 );铁路货车;小手推车 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
261 thronging | |
v.成群,挤满( throng的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
262 situated | |
adj.坐落在...的,处于某种境地的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
263 retirement | |
n.退休,退职 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
264 mighty | |
adj.强有力的;巨大的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
265 canopy | |
n.天篷,遮篷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
266 canes | |
n.(某些植物,如竹或甘蔗的)茎( cane的名词复数 );(用于制作家具等的)竹竿;竹杖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
267 sumptuously | |
奢侈地,豪华地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
268 fascination | |
n.令人着迷的事物,魅力,迷恋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
269 raven | |
n.渡鸟,乌鸦;adj.乌亮的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
270 ruby | |
n.红宝石,红宝石色 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
271 contemplate | |
vt.盘算,计议;周密考虑;注视,凝视 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
272 bracelets | |
n.手镯,臂镯( bracelet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
273 taper | |
n.小蜡烛,尖细,渐弱;adj.尖细的;v.逐渐变小 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
274 transparent | |
adj.明显的,无疑的;透明的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
275 laden | |
adj.装满了的;充满了的;负了重担的;苦恼的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
276 irresistible | |
adj.非常诱人的,无法拒绝的,无法抗拒的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
277 aspired | |
v.渴望,追求( aspire的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
278 tragic | |
adj.悲剧的,悲剧性的,悲惨的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
279 abhorrence | |
n.憎恶;可憎恶的事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
280 tempted | |
v.怂恿(某人)干不正当的事;冒…的险(tempt的过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
281 bellowed | |
v.发出吼叫声,咆哮(尤指因痛苦)( bellow的过去式和过去分词 );(愤怒地)说出(某事),大叫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
282 bombast | |
n.高调,夸大之辞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
283 swelled | |
增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 ); 肿胀; (使)凸出; 充满(激情) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
284 discriminating | |
a.有辨别能力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
285 peals | |
n.(声音大而持续或重复的)洪亮的响声( peal的名词复数 );隆隆声;洪亮的钟声;钟乐v.(使)(钟等)鸣响,(雷等)发出隆隆声( peal的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
286 embarked | |
乘船( embark的过去式和过去分词 ); 装载; 从事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
287 ferment | |
vt.使发酵;n./vt.(使)激动,(使)动乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
288 jealousies | |
n.妒忌( jealousy的名词复数 );妒羡 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
289 intrigues | |
n.密谋策划( intrigue的名词复数 );神秘气氛;引人入胜的复杂情节v.搞阴谋诡计( intrigue的第三人称单数 );激起…的好奇心 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
290 delusions | |
n.欺骗( delusion的名词复数 );谬见;错觉;妄想 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
291 rumpled | |
v.弄皱,使凌乱( rumple的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
292 ostrich | |
n.鸵鸟 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
293 attained | |
(通常经过努力)实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 ); 达到; 获得; 达到(某年龄、水平、状况) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
294 apparently | |
adv.显然地;表面上,似乎 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
295 jovial | |
adj.快乐的,好交际的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
296 miserable | |
adj.悲惨的,痛苦的;可怜的,糟糕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
297 countenance | |
n.脸色,面容;面部表情;vt.支持,赞同 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
298 countenances | |
n.面容( countenance的名词复数 );表情;镇静;道义支持 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
299 dreaded | |
adj.令人畏惧的;害怕的v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
300 peevish | |
adj.易怒的,坏脾气的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
301 snarling | |
v.(指狗)吠,嗥叫, (人)咆哮( snarl的现在分词 );咆哮着说,厉声地说 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
302 melancholy | |
n.忧郁,愁思;adj.令人感伤(沮丧)的,忧郁的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
303 gibed | |
v.嘲笑,嘲弄( gibe的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
304 backbite | |
v.背后诽谤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
305 cabal | |
n.政治阴谋小集团 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
306 deter | |
vt.阻止,使不敢,吓住 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
307 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
308 engrossed | |
adj.全神贯注的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
309 liking | |
n.爱好;嗜好;喜欢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
310 cravat | |
n.领巾,领结;v.使穿有领结的服装,使结领结 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
311 dangling | |
悬吊着( dangle的现在分词 ); 摆动不定; 用某事物诱惑…; 吊胃口 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
312 sentimental | |
adj.多愁善感的,感伤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
313 fugitive | |
adj.逃亡的,易逝的;n.逃犯,逃亡者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
314 hearty | |
adj.热情友好的;衷心的;尽情的,纵情的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
315 firmament | |
n.苍穹;最高层 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
316 vein | |
n.血管,静脉;叶脉,纹理;情绪;vt.使成脉络 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
317 chestnut | |
n.栗树,栗子 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
318 smitten | |
猛打,重击,打击( smite的过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
319 affected | |
adj.不自然的,假装的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
320 acting | |
n.演戏,行为,假装;adj.代理的,临时的,演出用的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
321 adroit | |
adj.熟练的,灵巧的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
322 torment | |
n.折磨;令人痛苦的东西(人);vt.折磨;纠缠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
323 misery | |
n.痛苦,苦恼,苦难;悲惨的境遇,贫苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
324 predilection | |
n.偏好 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
325 flirt | |
v.调情,挑逗,调戏;n.调情者,卖俏者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
326 aggravated | |
使恶化( aggravate的过去式和过去分词 ); 使更严重; 激怒; 使恼火 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
327 jealousy | |
n.妒忌,嫉妒,猜忌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
328 sprawling | |
adj.蔓生的,不规则地伸展的v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的现在分词 );蔓延;杂乱无序地拓展;四肢伸展坐着(或躺着) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
329 villain | |
n.反派演员,反面人物;恶棍;问题的起因 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
330 malicious | |
adj.有恶意的,心怀恶意的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
331 nay | |
adv.不;n.反对票,投反对票者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
332 chuckle | |
vi./n.轻声笑,咯咯笑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
333 narration | |
n.讲述,叙述;故事;记叙体 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
334 mortifying | |
adj.抑制的,苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 );伤害(人的感情);克制;抑制(肉体、情感等) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
335 outright | |
adv.坦率地;彻底地;立即;adj.无疑的;彻底的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
336 swelling | |
n.肿胀 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
337 beleaguered | |
adj.受到围困[围攻]的;包围的v.围攻( beleaguer的过去式和过去分词);困扰;骚扰 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
338 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 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
339 severely | |
adv.严格地;严厉地;非常恶劣地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
340 recollected | |
adj.冷静的;镇定的;被回忆起的;沉思默想的v.记起,想起( recollect的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
341 wrath | |
n.愤怒,愤慨,暴怒 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
342 dormant | |
adj.暂停活动的;休眠的;潜伏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
343 mortification | |
n.耻辱,屈辱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
344 interfered | |
v.干预( interfere的过去式和过去分词 );调停;妨碍;干涉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
345 warriors | |
武士,勇士,战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
346 warrior | |
n.勇士,武士,斗士 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
347 fray | |
v.争吵;打斗;磨损,磨破;n.吵架;打斗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
348 medley | |
n.混合 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
349 warfare | |
n.战争(状态);斗争;冲突 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
350 shrieked | |
v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
351 discord | |
n.不和,意见不合,争论,(音乐)不和谐 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
352 havoc | |
n.大破坏,浩劫,大混乱,大杂乱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
353 bloody | |
adj.非常的的;流血的;残忍的;adv.很;vt.血染 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
354 sublime | |
adj.崇高的,伟大的;极度的,不顾后果的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
355 wreck | |
n.失事,遇难;沉船;vt.(船等)失事,遇难 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
356 gallant | |
adj.英勇的,豪侠的;(向女人)献殷勤的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
357 plumes | |
羽毛( plume的名词复数 ); 羽毛饰; 羽毛状物; 升上空中的羽状物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
358 drooping | |
adj. 下垂的,无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
359 concealed | |
a.隐藏的,隐蔽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
360 ravages | |
劫掠后的残迹,破坏的结果,毁坏后的残迹 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
361 cuffs | |
n.袖口( cuff的名词复数 )v.掌打,拳打( cuff的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
362 lurking | |
潜在 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
363 discreet | |
adj.(言行)谨慎的;慎重的;有判断力的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
364 sleek | |
adj.光滑的,井然有序的;v.使光滑,梳拢 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
365 rosy | |
adj.美好的,乐观的,玫瑰色的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
366 trickling | |
n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
367 furrows | |
n.犁沟( furrow的名词复数 );(脸上的)皱纹v.犁田,开沟( furrow的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
368 intrepid | |
adj.无畏的,刚毅的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
369 devoted | |
adj.忠诚的,忠实的,热心的,献身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
370 monarch | |
n.帝王,君主,最高统治者 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
371 appeased | |
安抚,抚慰( appease的过去式和过去分词 ); 绥靖(满足另一国的要求以避免战争) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
372 potentate | |
n.统治者;君主 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
373 wreaked | |
诉诸(武力),施行(暴力),发(脾气)( wreak的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
374 tattered | |
adj.破旧的,衣衫破的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
375 torrents | |
n.倾注;奔流( torrent的名词复数 );急流;爆发;连续不断 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
376 literally | |
adv.照字面意义,逐字地;确实 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
377 hooted | |
(使)作汽笛声响,作汽车喇叭声( hoot的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
378 ridicule | |
v.讥讽,挖苦;n.嘲弄 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
379 disconsolate | |
adj.忧郁的,不快的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
380 splendor | |
n.光彩;壮丽,华丽;显赫,辉煌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
381 consolation | |
n.安慰,慰问 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
382 pensive | |
a.沉思的,哀思的,忧沉的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
383 bass | |
n.男低音(歌手);低音乐器;低音大提琴 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
384 sequestered | |
adj.扣押的;隐退的;幽静的;偏僻的v.使隔绝,使隔离( sequester的过去式和过去分词 );扣押 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
385 propitious | |
adj.吉利的;顺利的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
386 soothe | |
v.安慰;使平静;使减轻;缓和;奉承 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
387 presage | |
n.预感,不祥感;v.预示 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
388 disconsolately | |
adv.悲伤地,愁闷地;哭丧着脸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
389 mantle | |
n.斗篷,覆罩之物,罩子;v.罩住,覆盖,脸红 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
390 contemplated | |
adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
391 dilemma | |
n.困境,进退两难的局面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
392 dreading | |
v.害怕,恐惧,担心( dread的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
393 crave | |
vt.渴望得到,迫切需要,恳求,请求 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
394 blessing | |
n.祈神赐福;祷告;祝福,祝愿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
395 filthy | |
adj.卑劣的;恶劣的,肮脏的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
396 lucre | |
n.金钱,财富 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
397 vowed | |
起誓,发誓(vow的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
398 vow | |
n.誓(言),誓约;v.起誓,立誓 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
399 carnation | |
n.康乃馨(一种花) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
400 inflexible | |
adj.不可改变的,不受影响的,不屈服的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
401 exult | |
v.狂喜,欢腾;欢欣鼓舞 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
402 tribulation | |
n.苦难,灾难 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
403 destitute | |
adj.缺乏的;穷困的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
404 brink | |
n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘,边沿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
405 heartily | |
adv.衷心地,诚恳地,十分,很 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
406 mettle | |
n.勇气,精神 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
407 esteem | |
n.尊敬,尊重;vt.尊重,敬重;把…看作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
408 deference | |
n.尊重,顺从;敬意 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
409 sneaking | |
a.秘密的,不公开的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
410 exhausted | |
adj.极其疲惫的,精疲力尽的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
411 humiliated | |
感到羞愧的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
412 disorder | |
n.紊乱,混乱;骚动,骚乱;疾病,失调 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
413 labored | |
adj.吃力的,谨慎的v.努力争取(for)( labor的过去式和过去分词 );苦干;详细分析;(指引擎)缓慢而困难地运转 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
414 tangled | |
adj. 纠缠的,紊乱的 动词tangle的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
415 emblem | |
n.象征,标志;徽章 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
416 dreary | |
adj.令人沮丧的,沉闷的,单调乏味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
417 rebuked | |
责难或指责( rebuke的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
418 coax | |
v.哄诱,劝诱,用诱哄得到,诱取 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
419 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
420 rambles | |
(无目的地)漫游( ramble的第三人称单数 ); (喻)漫谈; 扯淡; 长篇大论 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
421 antiquated | |
adj.陈旧的,过时的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
422 tenacious | |
adj.顽强的,固执的,记忆力强的,粘的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
423 conceit | |
n.自负,自高自大 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
424 Oxford | |
n.牛津(英国城市) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
425 dint | |
n.由于,靠;凹坑 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
426 lumbered | |
砍伐(lumber的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
427 cloisters | |
n.(学院、修道院、教堂等建筑的)走廊( cloister的名词复数 );回廊;修道院的生活;隐居v.隐退,使与世隔绝( cloister的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
428 twilight | |
n.暮光,黄昏;暮年,晚期,衰落时期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
429 sweeping | |
adj.范围广大的,一扫无遗的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
430 edifices | |
n.大建筑物( edifice的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
431 edifice | |
n.宏伟的建筑物(如宫殿,教室) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
432 chapel | |
n.小教堂,殡仪馆 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
433 choir | |
n.唱诗班,唱诗班的席位,合唱团,舞蹈团;v.合唱 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
434 anthem | |
n.圣歌,赞美诗,颂歌 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
435 apparatus | |
n.装置,器械;器具,设备 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
436 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
437 sonnets | |
n.十四行诗( sonnet的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
438 sonnet | |
n.十四行诗 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
439 buckles | |
搭扣,扣环( buckle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
440 buck | |
n.雄鹿,雄兔;v.马离地跳跃 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
441 sociable | |
adj.好交际的,友好的,合群的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
442 wary | |
adj.谨慎的,机警的,小心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
443 badger | |
v.一再烦扰,一再要求,纠缠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
444 starched | |
adj.浆硬的,硬挺的,拘泥刻板的v.把(衣服、床单等)浆一浆( starch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
445 demeanor | |
n.行为;风度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
446 haggled | |
v.讨价还价( haggle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
447 eloquent | |
adj.雄辩的,口才流利的;明白显示出的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
448 subdue | |
vt.制服,使顺从,征服;抑制,克制 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
449 zest | |
n.乐趣;滋味,风味;兴趣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
450 clandestine | |
adj.秘密的,暗中从事的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
451 dwelling | |
n.住宅,住所,寓所 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
452 fortress | |
n.堡垒,防御工事 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
453 casement | |
n.竖铰链窗;窗扉 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
454 hoisted | |
把…吊起,升起( hoist的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
455 extricated | |
v.使摆脱困难,脱身( extricate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
456 descended | |
a.为...后裔的,出身于...的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
457 sprain | |
n.扭伤,扭筋 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
458 sprained | |
v.&n. 扭伤 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
459 exonerate | |
v.免除责任,确定无罪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
460 musing | |
n. 沉思,冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
461 perfidious | |
adj.不忠的,背信弃义的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
462 doomed | |
命定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
463 anguish | |
n.(尤指心灵上的)极度痛苦,烦恼 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
464 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
465 repent | |
v.悔悟,悔改,忏悔,后悔 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
466 confinement | |
n.幽禁,拘留,监禁;分娩;限制,局限 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
467 consolations | |
n.安慰,慰问( consolation的名词复数 );起安慰作用的人(或事物) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
468 innocence | |
n.无罪;天真;无害 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
469 attachments | |
n.(用电子邮件发送的)附件( attachment的名词复数 );附着;连接;附属物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
470 fatigue | |
n.疲劳,劳累 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
471 maudlin | |
adj.感情脆弱的,爱哭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
472 eulogy | |
n.颂词;颂扬 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
473 kindly | |
adj.和蔼的,温和的,爽快的;adv.温和地,亲切地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
474 consolatory | |
adj.慰问的,可藉慰的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
475 paternal | |
adj.父亲的,像父亲的,父系的,父方的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
476 deserted | |
adj.荒芜的,荒废的,无人的,被遗弃的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
477 scattered | |
adj.分散的,稀疏的;散步的;疏疏落落的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
478 whined | |
v.哀号( whine的过去式和过去分词 );哀诉,诉怨 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
479 parlor | |
n.店铺,营业室;会客室,客厅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
480 depressed | |
adj.沮丧的,抑郁的,不景气的,萧条的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
481 prostration | |
n. 平伏, 跪倒, 疲劳 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
482 animated | |
adj.生气勃勃的,活跃的,愉快的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
483 joyous | |
adj.充满快乐的;令人高兴的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
484 drudgery | |
n.苦工,重活,单调乏味的工作 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
485 tandem | |
n.同时发生;配合;adv.一个跟着一个地;纵排地;adj.(两匹马)前后纵列的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
486 gaily | |
adv.欢乐地,高兴地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
487 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 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
488 ridge | |
n.山脊;鼻梁;分水岭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
489 dubiously | |
adv.可疑地,怀疑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
490 restive | |
adj.不安宁的,不安静的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
491 Bungler | |
n.笨拙者,经验不够的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
492 spouse | |
n.配偶(指夫或妻) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
493 yearned | |
渴望,切盼,向往( yearn的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
494 lash | |
v.系牢;鞭打;猛烈抨击;n.鞭打;眼睫毛 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
495 lodgings | |
n. 出租的房舍, 寄宿舍 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
496 laborious | |
adj.吃力的,努力的,不流畅 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
497 sleepless | |
adj.不睡眠的,睡不著的,不休息的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
498 prodigiously | |
adv.异常地,惊人地,巨大地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
499 ascertain | |
vt.发现,确定,查明,弄清 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
500 ascertained | |
v.弄清,确定,查明( ascertain的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
501 intoxicating | |
a. 醉人的,使人兴奋的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
502 pungent | |
adj.(气味、味道)刺激性的,辛辣的;尖锐的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
503 transpiration | |
n.蒸发 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
504 enchantment | |
n.迷惑,妖术,魅力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
505 intoxication | |
n.wild excitement;drunkenness;poisoning | |
参考例句: |
|
|
506 haughty | |
adj.傲慢的,高傲的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
507 maiden | |
n.少女,处女;adj.未婚的,纯洁的,无经验的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
508 belle | |
n.靓女 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
509 celebrated | |
adj.有名的,声誉卓著的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
510 needy | |
adj.贫穷的,贫困的,生活艰苦的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
511 precipitate | |
adj.突如其来的;vt.使突然发生;n.沉淀物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
512 knack | |
n.诀窍,做事情的灵巧的,便利的方法 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
513 anonymously | |
ad.用匿名的方式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
514 overdid | |
v.做得过分( overdo的过去式 );太夸张;把…煮得太久;(工作等)过度 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
515 extravagant | |
adj.奢侈的;过分的;(言行等)放肆的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
516 reigning | |
adj.统治的,起支配作用的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
517 reign | |
n.统治时期,统治,支配,盛行;v.占优势 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
518 aisles | |
n. (席位间的)通道, 侧廊 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
519 dignified | |
a.可敬的,高贵的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
520 deficient | |
adj.不足的,不充份的,有缺陷的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
521 condescension | |
n.自以为高人一等,贬低(别人) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
522 wigs | |
n.假发,法官帽( wig的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
523 descending | |
n. 下行 adj. 下降的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
524 superannuated | |
adj.老朽的,退休的;v.因落后于时代而废除,勒令退学 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
525 delicacies | |
n.棘手( delicacy的名词复数 );精致;精美的食物;周到 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
526 tranquil | |
adj. 安静的, 宁静的, 稳定的, 不变的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
527 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
528 delectable | |
adj.使人愉快的;美味的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
529 clogs | |
木屐; 木底鞋,木屐( clog的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
530 luminaries | |
n.杰出人物,名人(luminary的复数形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
531 pretensions | |
自称( pretension的名词复数 ); 自命不凡; 要求; 权力 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
532 gentry | |
n.绅士阶级,上层阶级 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
533 batter | |
v.接连重击;磨损;n.牛奶面糊;击球员 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
534 gathering | |
n.集会,聚会,聚集 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
535 rebound | |
v.弹回;n.弹回,跳回 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
536 smirking | |
v.傻笑( smirk的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
537 perking | |
(使)活跃( perk的现在分词 ); (使)增值; 使更有趣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
538 belles | |
n.美女( belle的名词复数 );最美的美女 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
539 tormenting | |
使痛苦的,使苦恼的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
540 everlasting | |
adj.永恒的,持久的,无止境的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
541 exterminating | |
v.消灭,根绝( exterminate的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
542 crest | |
n.顶点;饰章;羽冠;vt.达到顶点;vi.形成浪尖 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
543 ineffable | |
adj.无法表达的,不可言喻的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
544 tingling | |
v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
545 crestfallen | |
adj. 挫败的,失望的,沮丧的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
546 retrench | |
v.节省,削减 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
547 usury | |
n.高利贷 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
548 caressed | |
爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
549 retrenchment | |
n.节省,删除 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
550 testament | |
n.遗嘱;证明 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
551 gasped | |
v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 );喘息;倒抽气;很想要 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
552 lout | |
n.粗鄙的人;举止粗鲁的人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
553 vacancy | |
n.(旅馆的)空位,空房,(职务的)空缺 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
554 flaunted | |
v.炫耀,夸耀( flaunt的过去式和过去分词 );有什么能耐就施展出来 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
555 underneath | |
adj.在...下面,在...底下;adv.在下面 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
556 fortified | |
adj. 加强的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
557 scanty | |
adj.缺乏的,仅有的,节省的,狭小的,不够的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
558 relics | |
[pl.]n.遗物,遗迹,遗产;遗体,尸骸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
559 fixed | |
adj.固定的,不变的,准备好的;(计算机)固定的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
560 corpse | |
n.尸体,死尸 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
561 glazing | |
n.玻璃装配业;玻璃窗;上釉;上光v.装玻璃( glaze的现在分词 );上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
562 gasping | |
adj. 气喘的, 痉挛的 动词gasp的现在分词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
563 glazed | |
adj.光滑的,像玻璃的;上过釉的;呆滞无神的v.装玻璃( glaze的过去式);上釉于,上光;(目光)变得呆滞无神 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
564 extinction | |
n.熄灭,消亡,消灭,灭绝,绝种 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
565 retired | |
adj.隐退的,退休的,退役的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
566 requiem | |
n.安魂曲,安灵曲 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
567 grudged | |
怀恨(grudge的过去式与过去分词形式) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
568 sneer | |
v.轻蔑;嘲笑;n.嘲笑,讥讽的言语 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
569 enjoined | |
v.命令( enjoin的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
570 resentments | |
(因受虐待而)愤恨,不满,怨恨( resentment的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
571 profusion | |
n.挥霍;丰富 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
572 proceeding | |
n.行动,进行,(pl.)会议录,学报 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
573 ingenuity | |
n.别出心裁;善于发明创造 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
574 apprehended | |
逮捕,拘押( apprehend的过去式和过去分词 ); 理解 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
575 boded | |
v.预示,预告,预言( bode的过去式和过去分词 );等待,停留( bide的过去分词 );居住;(过去式用bided)等待 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
576 legacies | |
n.遗产( legacy的名词复数 );遗留之物;遗留问题;后遗症 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
577 residue | |
n.残余,剩余,残渣 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
578 astonishment | |
n.惊奇,惊异 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
579 privately | |
adv.以私人的身份,悄悄地,私下地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
580 patronage | |
n.赞助,支援,援助;光顾,捧场 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
581 epoch | |
n.(新)时代;历元 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
582 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
583 domains | |
n.范围( domain的名词复数 );领域;版图;地产 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
584 defunct | |
adj.死亡的;已倒闭的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
585 ebbed | |
(指潮水)退( ebb的过去式和过去分词 ); 落; 减少; 衰落 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
586 strand | |
vt.使(船)搁浅,使(某人)困于(某地) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
587 conjecture | |
n./v.推测,猜测 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
588 enjoyments | |
愉快( enjoyment的名词复数 ); 令人愉快的事物; 享有; 享受 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
589 perpetuating | |
perpetuate的现在进行式 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
590 appalling | |
adj.骇人听闻的,令人震惊的,可怕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
591 patrimony | |
n.世袭财产,继承物 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
592 alterations | |
n.改动( alteration的名词复数 );更改;变化;改变 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
593 pensively | |
adv.沉思地,焦虑地 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
594 primroses | |
n.报春花( primrose的名词复数 );淡黄色;追求享乐(招至恶果) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
595 decrepitude | |
n.衰老;破旧 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
596 paralytic | |
adj. 瘫痪的 n. 瘫痪病人 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
597 tottered | |
v.走得或动得不稳( totter的过去式和过去分词 );踉跄;蹒跚;摇摇欲坠 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
598 humility | |
n.谦逊,谦恭 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
599 inflicted | |
把…强加给,使承受,遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
600 penance | |
n.(赎罪的)惩罪 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
601 expiation | |
n.赎罪,补偿 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
602 levity | |
n.轻率,轻浮,不稳定,多变 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
603 nettles | |
n.荨麻( nettle的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句: |
|
|
604 overflowed | |
溢出的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
605 infancy | |
n.婴儿期;幼年期;初期 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
606 withering | |
使人畏缩的,使人害羞的,使人难堪的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
607 retraced | |
v.折回( retrace的过去式和过去分词 );回忆;回顾;追溯 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
608 morbid | |
adj.病的;致病的;病态的;可怕的 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
609 trickled | |
v.滴( trickle的过去式和过去分词 );淌;使)慢慢走;缓慢移动 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
610 soothed | |
v.安慰( soothe的过去式和过去分词 );抚慰;使舒服;减轻痛苦 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
611 lark | |
n.云雀,百灵鸟;n.嬉戏,玩笑;vi.嬉戏 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
612 hovered | |
鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 ); 靠近(某事物); (人)徘徊; 犹豫 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
613 acquit | |
vt.宣判无罪;(oneself)使(自己)表现出 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
614 attestation | |
n.证词 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
615 spun | |
v.纺,杜撰,急转身 | |
参考例句: |
|
|
欢迎访问英文小说网 |