"Yes," said she, "a new English fire-engine and Pastor2 Bastholm's library," and those probably were all the lions in the city. A few officers of the Lancers composed the fine-gentleman world. Everybody knew what was done in everybody's house, whether a scholar was elevated or degraded in his class, and the like. A private theatre, to which, at general rehearsal4, the scholars of the grammar school and the maid-servants of the town had free entrance, furnished rich material for conversation. The place was remote from woods, and still farther from the coast; but the great post-road went through the city, and the post-horn resounded6 from the rolling carriage.
I boarded with a respectable widow of the educated class, and had a little chamber7 looking out into the garden and field. My place in the school was in the lowest class, among little boys:—I knew indeed nothing at all.
I was actually like a wild bird which is confined in a cage; I had the greatest desire to learn, but for the moment I floundered about, as if I had been thrown into the sea; the one wave followed another; grammar, geography, mathematics—I felt myself overpowered by them, and feared that I should never be able to acquire all these. The rector, who took a peculiar8 delight in turning everything to ridicule9, did not, of course, make an exception in my case. To me he stood then as a divinity; I believed unconditionally10 every word which he spoke11. One day, when I had replied incorrectly to his question, and he said that I was stupid, I mentioned it to Collin, and told him my anxiety, lest I did not deserve all that people had done for me; but he consoled me. Occasionally, however, on some subjects of instruction, I began to receive a good certificate, and the teachers were heartily12 kind to me; yet, notwithstanding that I advanced, I still lost confidence in myself more and more. On one of the first examinations, however, I obtained the praise of the rector. He wrote the same in my character-book; and, happy in this, I went a few days afterwards to Copenhagen. Guldberg, who saw the progress I had made, received me kindly13, and commended my zeal14; and his brother in Odense furnished me the next summer with the means of visiting the place of my birth, where I had not been since I left it to seek adventures. I crossed the Belt, and went on foot to Odense. When I came near enough to see the lofty old church tower, my heart was more and more affected15; I felt deeply the care of God for me, and I burst into tears. My mother rejoiced over me. The families of Iversen and Guldberg received me cordially; and in the little streets I saw the people open their windows to look after me, for everybody knew how remarkably16 well things had fared with me; nay17, I fancied I actually stood upon the pinnacle18 of fortune, when one of the principal citizens, who had built a high tower to his house, led me up there, and I looked out thence over the city, and the surrounding country, and some old women in the hospital below, who had known me from childhood, pointed19 up to me.
As soon, however, as I returned to Slagelse, this halo of glory vanished, as well as every thought of it. I may freely confess that I was industrious20, and I rose, as soon as it was possible, into a higher class; but in proportion as I rose did I feel the pressure upon me more strongly, and that my endeavors were not sufficiently21 productive. Many an evening, when sleep overcame me, did I wash my head with cold water, or run about the lonely little garden, till I was again wakeful, and could comprehend the book anew. The rector filled up a portion of his hours of teaching with jests, nicknames, and not the happiest of witticisms22. I was as if paralyzed with anxiety when he entered the room, and from that cause my replies often expressed the opposite of that which I wished to say, and thereby23 my anxiety was all the more increased. What was to become of me?
In a moment of ill-humor I wrote a letter to the head master, who was one of those who was most cordially opposed to me. I said in this letter that I regarded myself as a person so little gifted by nature, that it was impossible for me to study, and that the people in Copenhagen threw away the money which they spent upon me: I besought24 him therefore to counsel me what I should do. The excellent man strengthened me with mild words, and wrote to me a most friendly and consolatory25 letter; he said that the rector meant kindly by me—that it was his custom and way of acting—that I was making all the progress that people could expect from me, and that I need not doubt of my abilities. He told me that he himself was a peasant youth of three and twenty, older than I myself was, when he began his studies; the misfortune for me was, that I ought to have been treated differently to the other scholars, but that this could hardly be done in a school; but that things were progressing, and that I stood well both with the teachers and my fellow students.
Every Sunday we had to attend the church and hear an old preacher; the other scholars learned their lessons in history and mathematics while he preached; I learned my task in religion, and thought that, by so doing, it was less sinful. The general rehearsals26 at the private theatre were points of light in my school life; they took place in a back building, where the lowing of the cows might be heard; the street-decoration was a picture of the marketplace of the city, by which means the representation had something familiar about it; it amused the inhabitants to see their own houses.
On Sunday afternoons it was my delight to go to the castle of Antvorskov, at that time only half ruinous, and once a monastery27, where I pursued the excavating28 of the ruined cellars, as if it had been a Pompeii. I also often rambled29 to the crucifix of St. Anders, which stands upon one of the heights of Slagelse, and which is one of the wooden crosses erected30 in the time of Catholicism in Denmark. St. Anders was a priest in Slagelse, and travelled to the Holy Land; on the last day he remained so long praying on the holy grave, that the ship sailed away without him. Vexed31 at this circumstance, he walked along the shore, where a man met him riding on an ass3, and took him up with him. Immediately he fell asleep, and when he awoke he heard the bells of Slagelse ringing. He lay upon the (Hvileh÷i) hill of rest, where the cross now stands. He was at home a year and a day before the ship returned, which had sailed away without him, and an angel had borne him home. The legend, and the place where he woke, were both favorites of mine. From this spot I could see the ocean and Funen. Here I could indulge my fancies; when at home, my sense of duty chained my thoughts only to my books.
The happiest time, however, was when, once on a Sunday, whilst the wood was green, I went to the city of Sor÷, two (Danish) miles from Slagelse, and which lies in the midst of woods, surrounded by lakes. Here is an academy for the nobility, founded by the poet Holberg. Everything lay in a conventual stillness. I visited here the poet Ingemann, who had just married, and who held a situation as teacher; he had already received me kindly in Copenhagen; but here his reception of me was still more kind. His life in this place seemed to me like a beautiful story; flowers and vines twined around his window; the rooms were adorned32 with the portraits of distinguished33 poets, and other pictures. We sailed upon the lake with an Aeolian harp34 made fast to the mast. Ingemann talked so cheerfully, and his excellent, amiable36 wife treated me as if she were an elder sister:—I loved these people. Our friendship has grown with years. I have been from that time almost every summer a welcome guest there, and I have experienced that there are people in whose society one is made better, as it were; that which is bitter passes away, and the whole world appears in sunlight.
Among the pupils in the academy of nobles, there were two who made verses; they knew that I did the same, and they attached themselves to me. The one was Petit, who afterwards, certainly with the best intention, but not faithfully, translated several of my books; the other, the poet Karl Bagger, one of the most gifted of men who has come forward in Danish literature, but who has been unjustly judged. His poems are full of freshness and originality37; his story, "The Life of my Brother," is a genial38 book, by the critique on which the Danish Monthly Review of Literature has proved that it does not understand how to give judgment39. These two academicians were very different from me: life rushed rejoicingly through their veins40; I was sensitive and childlike. In my character-book I always received, as regarded my conduct, "remarkably good." On one occasion, however, I only obtained the testimony41 of "very good;" and so anxious and childlike was I, that I wrote a letter to Collin on that account, and assured him in grave earnestness, that I was perfectly42 innocent, although I had only obtained a character of "very good."
The rector grew weary of his residence in Slagelse; he applied43 for the vacant post of rector in the grammar-school of Helsing÷r, and obtained it. He told me of it, and added kindly, that I might write to Collin and ask leave to accompany him thither44; that I might live in his house, and could even now remove to his family; I should then in half a year become a student, which could not be the case if I remained behind, and that then he would himself give me some private lessons in Latin and Greek. On this same occasion he wrote also to Collin; and this letter, which I afterwards saw, contained the greatest praise of my industry, of the progress I had made, and of my good abilities, which last I imagined that he thoroughly45 mistook, and for the want of which, I myself had so often wept. I had no conception that he judged of me so favorably; it would have strengthened and relieved me had I known it; whereas, on the contrary, his perpetual blame depressed46 me. I, of course, immediately received Collin's permission, and removed to the house of the rector. But that, alas47! was an unfortunate house.
I accompanied him to Helsing÷r, one of the loveliest places in Denmark, close to the Sound, which is at this place not above a mile (Danish) broad, and which seems like a blue, swelling48 river between Denmark and Sweden. The ships of all nations sail past daily by hundreds; in winter the ice forms a firm bridge between the two countries, and when in spring this breaks up, it resembles a floating glacier49. The scenery here made a lively impression upon me, but I dared only to cast stolen glances at it. When the school hours were over, the house door was commonly locked; I was obliged to remain in the heated school-room and learn my Latin, or else play with the children, or sit in my little room; I never went out to visit anybody. My life in this family furnishes the most evil dreams to my remembrance. I was almost overcome by it, and my prayer to God every evening was, that he would remove this cup from me and let me die. I possessed50 not an atom of confidence in myself. I never mentioned in my letters how hard it went with me, because the rector found his pleasure in making a jest of me, and turning my feelings to ridicule. I never complained of any one, with the exception of myself. I knew that they would say in Copenhagen, "He has not the desire to do any thing; a fanciful being can do no good with realities."
My letters to Collin, written at this time, showed such a gloomy despairing state of mind, that they touched him deeply; but people imagined that was not to be helped; they fancied that it was my disposition51, and not, as was the case, that it was the consequence of outward influences. My temper of mind was thoroughly buoyant, and susceptible52 of every ray of sunshine; but only on one single holiday in the year, when I could go to Copenhagen, was I able to enjoy it.
What a change it was to get for a few days out of the rector's rooms
full of the comforts of refined life! This was at Admiral Wulff's, whose
wife felt for me the kindness of a mother, and whose children met me
with cordiality; they dwelt in a portion of the Castle of Amalienburg,
and my chamber looked out into the square. I remember the first evening
there; Aladdin's words passed through my mind, when he looked down from
his splendid castle into the square, and said, "Here came I as a poor
During my whole residence in Slagelse I had scarcely written more than
four or five poems; two of which, "The Soul," and "To my Mother,"
will be found printed in my collected works. During my school-time at
Helsing÷r I wrote only one single poem, "The Dying Child;" a poem which,
of all my after works, became most popular and most widely circulated. I
read it to some acquaintance in Copenhagen; some were struck by it, but
most of them only remarked my Funen dialect, which drops the d in every
word. I was commended by many; but from the greater number I received
myself—I who really at that time thought nothing of myself. [Footnote:
How beautifully is all this part of the author's experience reflected
in that of Antonio, the Improvisatore, whose highly sensitive nature was
too often wounded by the well-meant lectures of patrons and common-place
minds.—M. H.]
At the house of Admiral Wulff I saw many men of the most distinguished talent, and among them all my mind paid the greatest homage56 to one—that was the poet Adam Oehlenschl ger. I heard his praise resound5 from every mouth around me; I looked up to him with the most pious57 faith: I was happy when one evening, in a large brilliantly-lighted drawing room—where I deeply felt that my apparel was the shabbiest there, and for that reason I concealed58 myself behind the long curtains—Oehlenschl ger came to me and offered me his hand. I could have fallen before him on my knees. I again saw Weyse, and heard him improvise59 upon the piano. Wulff himself read aloud his translations of Byron; and Oehlenschl ger's young daughter Charlotte surprised me by her joyous60, merry humor.
From such a house as this, I, after a few days, returned to the rector, and felt the difference deeply. He also came direct from Copenhagen, where he had heard it said that I had read in company one of my own poems. He looked at me with a penetrating61 glance, and commanded me to bring him the poem, when, if he found in it one spark of poetry, he would forgive me. I tremblingly brought to him "The Dying Child;" he read it, and pronounced it to be sentimentality and idle trash. He gave way freely to his anger. If he had believed that I wasted my time in writing verses, or that I was of a nature which required a severe treatment, then his intention would have been good; but he could not pretend this. But from this day forward my situation was more unfortunate than ever; I suffered so severely62 in my mind that I was very near sinking under it. That was the darkest, the most unhappy time in my life.
Just then one of the masters went to Copenhagen, and related to Collin exactly what I had to bear, and immediately he removed me from the school and from the rector's house. When, in taking leave of him, I thanked him for the kindness which I had received from him, the passionate63 man cursed me, and ended by saying that I should never become a student, that my verses would grow mouldy on the floor of the bookseller's shop, and that I myself should end my days in a mad-house. I trembled to my innermost being, and left him.
Several years afterwards, when my writings were read, when the Improvisatore first came out, I met him in Copenhagen; he offered me his hand in a conciliatory manner, and said that he had erred64 respecting me, and had treated me wrong; but it now was all the same to me. The heavy, dark days had also produced their blessing65 in my life. A young man, who afterwards became celebrated66 in Denmark for his zeal in the Northern languages and in history, became my teacher. I hired a little garret; it is described in the Fiddler; and in The Picture Book without Pictures, people may see that I often received there visits from the moon. I had a certain sum allowed for my support; but as instruction was to be paid for, I had to make savings67 in other ways. A few families through the week-days gave me a place at their tables. I was a sort of boarder, as many another poor student in Copenhagen is still: there was a variety in it; it gave an insight into the several kinds of family life, which was not without its influence on me. I studied industriously68; in some particular branches I had considerably69 distinguished myself in Helsing÷r, especially in mathematics; these were, therefore, now much more left to myself: everything tended to assist me in my Greek and Latin studies; in one direction, however, and that the one in which it would least have been expected, did my excellent teacher find much to do; namely, in religion. He closely adhered to the literal meaning of the Bible; with this I was acquainted, because from my first entrance in the school I had clearly understood what was said and taught by it. I received gladly, both with feeling and understanding, the doctrine70, that God is love: everything which opposed this—a burning hell, therefore, whose fire endured forever—I could not recognize. Released from the distressing71 existence of the school-bench, I now expressed myself like a free man; and my teacher, who was one of the noblest and most amiable of human beings, but who adhered firmly to the letter, was often quite distressed72 about me. We disputed, whilst pure flames kindled73 within our hearts. It was nevertheless good for me that I came to this unspoiled, highly-gifted young man, who was possessed of a nature as peculiar as my own.
That which, on the contrary, was an error in me, and which became very perceptible, was a pleasure which I had, not in jesting with, but in playing with my best feelings, and in regarding the understanding as the most important thing in the world. The rector had completely mistaken my undisguisedly candid74 and sensitive character; my excitable feelings were made ridiculous, and thrown back upon themselves; and now, when I could freely advance upon the way to my object, this change showed itself in me. From severe suffering I did not rush into libertinism75, but into an erroneous endeavor to appear other than I was. I ridiculed76 feeling, and fancied that I had quite thrown it aside; and yet I could be made wretched for a whole day, if I met with a sour countenance77 where I expected a friendly one. Every poem which I had formerly78 written with tears, I now parodied79, or gave to it a ludicrous refrain; one of which I called "The Lament80 of the Kitten," another, "The Sick Poet." The few poems which I wrote at that time were all of a humorous character: a complete change had passed over me; the stunted81 plant was reset82, and now began to put forth83 new shoots.
Wulff's eldest84 daughter, a very clever and lively girl, understood and encouraged the humor, which made itself evident in my few poems; she possessed my entire confidence; she protected me like a good sister, and had great influence over me, whilst she awoke in me a feeling for the comic.
At this time, also, a fresh current of life was sent through the Danish literature; for this the people had an interest, and politics played no part in it.
Heiberg, who had gained the acknowledged reputation of a poet by his excellent works, "Psyche85" and "Walter the Potter," had introduced the vaudeville86 upon the Danish stage; it was a Danish vaudeville, blood of our blood, and was therefore received with acclamation, and supplanted87 almost everything else. Thalia kept carnival88 on the Danish stage, and Heiberg was her secretary. I made his acquaintance first at Oersted's. Refined, eloquent89, and the hero of the day, he pleased me in a high degree; he was most kind to me, and I visited him; he considered one of my humorous poems worthy90 of a place in his most excellent weekly paper, "The Flying Post." Shortly before I had, after a deal of trouble, got my poem of "The Dying Child" printed in a paper; none of the many publishers of journals, who otherwise accept of the most lamentable91 trash, had the courage to print a poem by a schoolboy. My best known poem they printed at that time, accompanied by an excuse for it. Heiberg saw it, and gave it in his paper an honorable place. Two humorous poems, signed H., were truly my debut92 with him.
I remember the first evening when the "Flying Post" appeared with my verses in it. I was with a family who wished me well, but who regarded my poetical93 talent as quite insignificant94, and who found something to censure95 in every line. The master of the house entered with the "Flying Post" in his hand.
"This evening," said he, "there are two excellent poems: they are by Heiberg; nobody else could write anything like them." And now my poems were received with rapture96. The daughter, who was in my secret, exclaimed, in her delight, that I was the author. They were all struck into silence, and were vexed. That wounded me deeply.
One of our least esteemed97 writers, but a man of rank, who was very hospitable98, gave me one day a seat at his table. He told me that a new year's gift would come out, and that he was applied to for a contribution. I said that a little poem of mine, at the wish of the publisher, would appear in the same new year's gift.
"What, then, everybody and anybody are to contribute to this book!" said the man in vexation: "then he will need nothing from me; I certainly can hardly give him anything."
My teacher dwelt at a considerable distance from me. I went to him twice each day, and on the way there my thoughts were occupied with my lessons. On my return, however, I breathed more freely, and then bright poetical ideas passed through my brain, but they were never committed to paper; only five or six humorous poems were written in the course of the year, and these disturbed me less when they were laid to rest on paper than if they had remained in my mind.
In September, 1828, I was a student; and when the examination was over, the thousand ideas and thoughts, by which I was pursued on the way to my teacher, flew like a swarm99 of bees out into the world, and, indeed, into my first work, "A Journey on Foot to Amack;" a peculiar, humorous book, but one which fully35 exhibited my own individual character at that time, my disposition to sport with everything, and to jest in tears over my own feelings—a fantastic, gaily-colored tapestry-work. No publisher had the courage to bring out that little book; I therefore ventured to do it myself, and, in a few days after its appearance, the impression was sold. Publisher Keitzel bought from me the second edition; after a while he had a third; and besides this, the work was reprinted in Sweden.
Everybody read my book; I heard nothing but praise; I was "a student,"—I had attained100 the highest goal of my wishes. I was in a whirl of joy; and in this state I wrote my first dramatic work, "Love on the Nicholas Tower, or, What says the Pit?" It was unsuccessful, because it satirized101 that which no longer existed amongst us, namely, the shows of the middle ages; besides which, it rather ridiculed the enthusiasm for the vaudeville. The subject of it was, in short, as follows:—The watchman of the Nicholas Tower, who always spoke as a knight102 of the castle, wished to give his daughter to the watchman of the neighboring church-tower; but she loved a young tailor, who had made a journey to the grave of Eulenspiegel, and was just now returned, as the punch-bowl steamed, and was to be emptied in honor of the young lady's consent being given. The lovers escape together to the tailor's herberg, where dancing and merriment are going forward. The watchman, however, fetches back his daughter; but she had lost her senses, and she assured them that she never would recover them, unless she had her tailor. The old watchman determines that Fate should decide the affair; but, then, who was Fate? The idea then comes into his head that the public shall be his Pythia, and that the public shall decide whether she should have the tailor or the watchman. They determine, therefore, to send to one of the youngest of the poets, and beg him to write the history in the style of the vaudeville, a kind of writing which was the most successful at that time, and when the piece was brought upon the stage, and the public either whistled or hissed104, it should be in no wise considered that the work of the young author had been unsuccessful, but that it should be the voice of Fate, which said, "She shall marry the watchman." If, on the contrary, the piece was successful, it indicated that she should have the tailor; and this last, remarked the father, must be said in prose, in order that the public may understand it. Now every one of the characters thought himself on the stage, where in the epilogue the lovers besought the public for their applause, whilst the watchman begged them either to whistle, or at least to hiss103.
My fellow students received the piece with acclamation; they were proud of me. I was the second of their body who in this year had brought out a piece on the Danish stage; the other was Arnesen, student at the same time with me, and author of a vaudeville called "The Intrigue105 in the People's Theatre," a piece which had a great run. We were the two young authors of the October examination, two of the sixteen poets which this year produced, and whom people in jest divided into the four great and the twelve small poets.
I was now a happy human being; I possessed the soul of a poet, and the heart of youth; all houses began to be open to me; I flew from circle to circle. Still, however, I devoted106 myself industriously to study, so that in September, 1829, I passed my Examen philologicum et philosophicum, and brought out the first collected edition of my poems, which met with great praise. Life lay bright with sunshine before me.
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remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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pastor
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| n.牧师，牧人 | |
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ass
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| n.驴；傻瓜，蠢笨的人 | |
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rehearsal
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| n.排练，排演；练习 | |
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resound
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resounded
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| v.（指声音等）回荡于某处( resound的过去式和过去分词 )；产生回响；（指某处）回荡着声音 | |
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chamber
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| n.房间，寝室；会议厅；议院；会所 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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ridicule
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unconditionally
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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heartily
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| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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zeal
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affected
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remarkably
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nay
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pinnacle
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pointed
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industrious
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sufficiently
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witticisms
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thereby
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besought
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consolatory
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rehearsals
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| n.练习( rehearsal的名词复数 )；排练；复述；重复 | |
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monastery
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excavating
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rambled
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| （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 | |
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ERECTED
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vexed
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| adj.争论不休的；（指问题等）棘手的；争论不休的问题；烦恼的v.使烦恼( vex的过去式和过去分词 )；使苦恼；使生气；详细讨论 | |
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32
adorned
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| [计]被修饰的 | |
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distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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34
harp
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| n.竖琴；天琴座 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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amiable
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| adj.和蔼可亲的，友善的，亲切的 | |
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originality
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| n.创造力，独创性；新颖 | |
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genial
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| adj.亲切的，和蔼的，愉快的，脾气好的 | |
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judgment
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| n.审判；判断力，识别力，看法，意见 | |
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veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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testimony
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| n.证词；见证，证明 | |
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perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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thither
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| adv.向那里；adj.在那边的，对岸的 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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alas
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| int.唉(表示悲伤、忧愁、恐惧等) | |
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48
swelling
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| n.肿胀 | |
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49
glacier
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| n.冰川，冰河 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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elegance
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| n.优雅；优美，雅致；精致，巧妙 | |
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gratitude
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| adj.感激，感谢 | |
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modesty
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| n.谦逊，虚心，端庄，稳重，羞怯，朴素 | |
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homage
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| n.尊敬，敬意，崇敬 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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improvise
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| v.即兴创作；临时准备，临时凑成 | |
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joyous
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| adj.充满快乐的；令人高兴的 | |
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penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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severely
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| adv.严格地；严厉地；非常恶劣地 | |
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passionate
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| adj.热情的，热烈的，激昂的，易动情的，易怒的，性情暴躁的 | |
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erred
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| 犯错误，做错事( err的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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savings
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| n.存款，储蓄 | |
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industriously
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considerably
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| adv.极大地；相当大地；在很大程度上 | |
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doctrine
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| n.教义；主义；学说 | |
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distressing
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| a.使人痛苦的 | |
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distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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kindled
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| （使某物）燃烧，着火( kindle的过去式和过去分词 )； 激起（感情等）； 发亮，放光 | |
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candid
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| adj.公正的，正直的；坦率的 | |
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libertinism
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| n.放荡，玩乐，（对宗教事物的）自由思想 | |
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ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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formerly
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| adv.从前，以前 | |
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parodied
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| v.滑稽地模仿，拙劣地模仿( parody的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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lament
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| n.悲叹，悔恨，恸哭；v.哀悼，悔恨，悲叹 | |
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stunted
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| adj.矮小的；发育迟缓的 | |
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82
reset
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| v.重新安排，复位；n.重新放置；重放之物 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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eldest
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| adj.最年长的，最年老的 | |
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psyche
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| n.精神；灵魂 | |
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86
vaudeville
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| n.歌舞杂耍表演 | |
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87
supplanted
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| 把…排挤掉，取代( supplant的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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carnival
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| n.嘉年华会，狂欢，狂欢节，巡回表演 | |
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eloquent
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| adj.雄辩的，口才流利的；明白显示出的 | |
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worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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lamentable
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| adj.令人惋惜的，悔恨的 | |
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92
debut
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| n.首次演出，初次露面 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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insignificant
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| adj.无关紧要的，可忽略的，无意义的 | |
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censure
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| v./n.责备；非难；责难 | |
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rapture
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| n.狂喜；全神贯注；着迷；v.使狂喜 | |
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esteemed
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| adj.受人尊敬的v.尊敬( esteem的过去式和过去分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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hospitable
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| adj.好客的；宽容的；有利的，适宜的 | |
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swarm
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| n.(昆虫)等一大群；vi.成群飞舞；蜂拥而入 | |
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attained
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| （通常经过努力）实现( attain的过去式和过去分词 )； 达到； 获得； 达到（某年龄、水平、状况） | |
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101
satirized
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| v.讽刺，讥讽( satirize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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102
knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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103
hiss
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| v.发出嘶嘶声；发嘘声表示不满 | |
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104
hissed
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| 发嘶嘶声( hiss的过去式和过去分词 )； 发嘘声表示反对 | |
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105
intrigue
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| vt.激起兴趣，迷住；vi.耍阴谋；n.阴谋，密谋 | |
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devoted
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| adj.忠诚的，忠实的，热心的，献身于...的 | |
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