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Passage 1:
Frank Reicher
Frank Reicher (December 2, 1875 – January 19, 1965) was a German-born American actor, director and producer. He is best known for playing Captain Englehorn in the 1933 film "King Kong".
Passage 2:
Albert Thompson (footballer, born 1912)
Albert Thompson( born 1912, date of death unknown) was a Welsh footballer.
Passage 3:
Thomas Scott (diver)
Thomas Scott( 1907- date of death unknown) was an English diver.
Passage 4:
Bill Smith (footballer, born 1897)
William Thomas Smith( born 9 April 1897, date of death unknown) was an English professional footballer.
Passage 5:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 6:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 7:
Etan Boritzer
Etan Boritzer( born 1950) is an American writer of children ’s literature who is best known for his book" What is God?" first published in 1989. His best selling" What is?" illustrated children's book series on character education and difficult subjects for children is a popular teaching guide for parents, teachers and child- life professionals. Boritzer gained national critical acclaim after" What is God?" was published in 1989 although the book has caused controversy from religious fundamentalists for its universalist views. The other current books in the" What is?" series include What is Love?, What is Death?, What is Beautiful?, What is Funny?, What is Right?, What is Peace?, What is Money?, What is Dreaming?, What is a Friend?, What is True?, What is a Family?, What is a Feeling?" The series is now also translated into 15 languages. Boritzer was first published in 1963 at the age of 13 when he wrote an essay in his English class at Wade Junior High School in the Bronx, New York on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. His essay was included in a special anthology by New York City public school children compiled and published by the New York City Department of Education. Boritzer now lives in Venice, California and maintains his publishing office there also. He has helped numerous other authors to get published through" How to Get Your Book Published!" programs. Boritzer is also a yoga teacher who teaches regular classes locally and guest- teaches nationally. He is also recognized nationally as an erudite speaker on" The Teachings of the Buddha."
Passage 8:
The Secret Orchard
The Secret Orchard is a 1915 American drama silent film directed by Frank Reicher and written by Channing Pollock and William C. deMille. The film stars Cleo Ridgely, Blanche Sweet, Edward MacKay, Gertrude Kellar, Carlyle Blackwell and Theodore Roberts. The film was released on August 9, 1915, by Paramount Pictures.
Passage 9:
Theodred II (Bishop of Elmham)
Theodred II was a medieval Bishop of Elmham. The date of Theodred's consecration unknown, but the date of his death was sometime between 995 and 997.
Passage 10:
Harry Wainwright (footballer)
Harry Wainwright( born 1899; date of death unknown) was an English footballer.
Question: What is the date of death of the director of film The Secret Orchard?
Answer: January 19, 1965
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
Two Tickets for a Daytime Picture Show
Two Tickets for a Daytime Picture Show is a 1966 Soviet crime film directed by Gerbert Rappaport.
Passage 2:
Hey, Let's Twist!
Hey, Let's Twist! is a 1961 American musical film directed by Greg Garrison and written by Hal Hackady. The film stars Joey Dee, Jo Ann Campbell, Teddy Randazzo, Kay Armen, Zohra Lampert and Dino Di Luca. The film was released on December 31, 1961, by Paramount Pictures. The same team later made" Two Tickets to Paris"( 1962).
Passage 3:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 4:
Two Tickets to Paris
Two Tickets to Paris is a 1962 film directed by Greg Garrison and starring Joey Dee and the Starliters.
Passage 5:
Two Tickets to Broadway
Two Tickets to Broadway is a 1951 American Technicolor musical film directed by James V. Kern and filmed on the RKO Forty Acres backlot. It was nominated for an Academy Award for Best Sound Recording (John O. Aalberg). The film was choreographed by Busby Berkeley. The roles of the two delicatessen owners were originally offered to Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy, who had to turn down the parts due to Laurel being ill.
Passage 6:
Two Tickets to Paradise (film)
Two Tickets to Paradise is a 2006 fielm starring John C. McGinley, D. B. Sweeney (in his directorial debut), Pawul Hipp, and minor roles for Moira Kelly and Ed Harris.
Passage 7:
Two Tickets to London
Two Tickets to London is a 1943 drama film made by Universal Pictures, and directed by Edwin L. Marin. The screenplay was written by Tom Reed, based on story by Roy William Neill. The film stars Michèle Morgan and Alan Curtis.
Passage 8:
James V. Kern
James V. Kern (September 22, 1909, New York City, New York – November 9, 1966, Encino, California) was an American singer, songwriter, screenwriter, actor, and director. Educated at the Fordham Law School, Kern worked for a while as an attorney. He sang with the George Olsen Trio, and appeared with the Olsen orchestra in the musical "Good News". From 1927 to 1939, he sang with and wrote for the Yacht Club Boys quartet, with whom he appeared in several motion pictures. He became a screenwriter and later a director. In film, he directed mainly "B" pictures, but after he moved to television, he directed hundreds of series episodes. He was one of the house directors on "I Love Lucy" in the 1950s. He directed "My Three Sons" for most of two seasons in the 1960s. When he died suddenly of a heart attack at age 57, several episodes of the show remained only partially completed for the 1966/67 season, so director James Sheldon was brought in by series producers to round out the season. He joined ASCAP in 1955. His popular-song compositions include "Easy Street,Lover, Lover,Little Red Fox," and "Shut the Door."
Passage 9:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 10:
Lamman Rucker
Lamman Rucker( born October 6, 1971) is an American actor. Rucker began his career on the daytime soap operas" As the World Turns" and" All My Children", before roles in Tyler Perry's films " Why Did I Get Married? Why Did I Get Married Too?", and" Meet the Browns", and its television adaptation. In 2016, he began starring as Jacob Greenleaf in the Oprah Winfrey Network drama series," Greenleaf".
Question: Why did the director of film Two Tickets To Broadway die?
Answer: heart attack
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to the Apache Software Foundation (ASF) under one or more
* contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file distributed with
* this work for additional information regarding copyright ownership.
* The ASF licenses this file to You under the Apache License, Version 2.0
* (the "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance with
* the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*
*/
package org.apache.tools.ant.taskdefs;
import java.io.File;
import java.io.FileNotFoundException;
import java.io.FileOutputStream;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.io.InputStream;
import java.util.Date;
import java.util.Enumeration;
import java.util.HashSet;
import java.util.Iterator;
import java.util.Set;
import java.util.Vector;
import org.apache.tools.ant.BuildException;
import org.apache.tools.ant.Project;
import org.apache.tools.ant.Task;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.FileSet;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.Mapper;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.PatternSet;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.Resource;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.ResourceCollection;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.resources.FileProvider;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.resources.Union;
import org.apache.tools.ant.types.selectors.SelectorUtils;
import org.apache.tools.ant.util.FileNameMapper;
import org.apache.tools.ant.util.FileUtils;
import org.apache.tools.ant.util.IdentityMapper;
import org.apache.tools.zip.ZipEntry;
import org.apache.tools.zip.ZipFile;
/**
* Unzip a file.
*
* @since Ant 1.1
*
* @ant.task category="packaging"
* name="unzip"
* name="unjar"
* name="unwar"
*/
public class Expand extends Task {
private static final int BUFFER_SIZE = 1024;
private File dest; //req
private File source; // req
private boolean overwrite = true;
private Mapper mapperElement = null;
private Vector<PatternSet> patternsets = new Vector<PatternSet>();
private Union resources = new Union();
private boolean resourcesSpecified = false;
private boolean failOnEmptyArchive = false;
private boolean stripAbsolutePathSpec = false;
private boolean scanForUnicodeExtraFields = true;
public static final String NATIVE_ENCODING = "native-encoding";
private String encoding = "UTF8";
/** Error message when more that one mapper is defined */
public static final String ERROR_MULTIPLE_MAPPERS = "Cannot define more than one mapper";
private static final FileUtils FILE_UTILS = FileUtils.getFileUtils();
/**
* Whether try ing to expand an empty archive would be an error.
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public void setFailOnEmptyArchive(boolean b) {
failOnEmptyArchive = b;
}
/**
* Whether try ing to expand an empty archive would be an error.
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public boolean getFailOnEmptyArchive() {
return failOnEmptyArchive;
}
/**
* Do the work.
*
* @exception BuildException Thrown in unrecoverable error.
*/
public void execute() throws BuildException {
if ("expand".equals(getTaskType())) {
log("!! expand is deprecated. Use unzip instead. !!");
}
if (source == null && !resourcesSpecified) {
throw new BuildException("src attribute and/or resources must be "
+ "specified");
}
if (dest == null) {
throw new BuildException(
"Dest attribute must be specified");
}
if (dest.exists() && !dest.isDirectory()) {
throw new BuildException("Dest must be a directory.", getLocation());
}
if (source != null) {
if (source.isDirectory()) {
throw new BuildException("Src must not be a directory."
+ " Use nested filesets instead.", getLocation());
} else if (!source.exists()) {
throw new BuildException("src '" + source + "' doesn't exist.");
} else if (!source.canRead()) {
throw new BuildException("src '" + source + "' cannot be read.");
} else {
expandFile(FILE_UTILS, source, dest);
}
}
for (Resource r : resources) {
if (!r.isExists()) {
log("Skipping '" + r.getName() + "' because it doesn't exist.");
continue;
}
FileProvider fp = r.as(FileProvider.class);
if (fp != null) {
expandFile(FILE_UTILS, fp.getFile(), dest);
} else {
expandResource(r, dest);
}
}
}
/**
* This method is to be overridden by extending unarchival tasks.
*
* @param fileUtils the fileUtils
* @param srcF the source file
* @param dir the destination directory
*/
protected void expandFile(FileUtils fileUtils, File srcF, File dir) {
log("Expanding: " + srcF + " into " + dir, Project.MSG_INFO);
ZipFile zf = null;
FileNameMapper mapper = getMapper();
if (!srcF.exists()) {
throw new BuildException("Unable to expand "
+ srcF
+ " as the file does not exist",
getLocation());
}
try {
zf = new ZipFile(srcF, encoding, scanForUnicodeExtraFields);
boolean empty = true;
Enumeration<ZipEntry> e = zf.getEntries();
while (e.hasMoreElements()) {
empty = false;
ZipEntry ze = e.nextElement();
InputStream is = null;
log("extracting " + ze.getName(), Project.MSG_DEBUG);
try {
extractFile(fileUtils, srcF, dir,
is = zf.getInputStream(ze),
ze.getName(), new Date(ze.getTime()),
ze.isDirectory(), mapper);
} finally {
FileUtils.close(is);
}
}
if (empty && getFailOnEmptyArchive()) {
throw new BuildException("archive '" + srcF + "' is empty");
}
log("expand complete", Project.MSG_VERBOSE);
} catch (IOException ioe) {
throw new BuildException(
"Error while expanding " + srcF.getPath()
+ "\n" + ioe.toString(),
ioe);
} finally {
ZipFile.closeQuietly(zf);
}
}
/**
* This method is to be overridden by extending unarchival tasks.
*
* @param srcR the source resource
* @param dir the destination directory
*/
protected void expandResource(Resource srcR, File dir) {
throw new BuildException("only filesystem based resources are"
+ " supported by this task.");
}
/**
* get a mapper for a file
* @return a filenamemapper for a file
*/
protected FileNameMapper getMapper() {
FileNameMapper mapper = null;
if (mapperElement != null) {
mapper = mapperElement.getImplementation();
} else {
mapper = new IdentityMapper();
}
return mapper;
}
// CheckStyle:ParameterNumberCheck OFF - bc
/**
* extract a file to a directory
* @param fileUtils a fileUtils object
* @param srcF the source file
* @param dir the destination directory
* @param compressedInputStream the input stream
* @param entryName the name of the entry
* @param entryDate the date of the entry
* @param isDirectory if this is true the entry is a directory
* @param mapper the filename mapper to use
* @throws IOException on error
*/
protected void extractFile(FileUtils fileUtils, File srcF, File dir,
InputStream compressedInputStream,
String entryName, Date entryDate,
boolean isDirectory, FileNameMapper mapper)
throws IOException {
if (stripAbsolutePathSpec && entryName.length() > 0
&& (entryName.charAt(0) == File.separatorChar
|| entryName.charAt(0) == '/'
|| entryName.charAt(0) == '\\')) {
log("stripped absolute path spec from " + entryName,
Project.MSG_VERBOSE);
entryName = entryName.substring(1);
}
if (patternsets != null && patternsets.size() > 0) {
String name = entryName.replace('/', File.separatorChar)
.replace('\\', File.separatorChar);
boolean included = false;
Set<String> includePatterns = new HashSet<String>();
Set<String> excludePatterns = new HashSet<String>();
final int size = patternsets.size();
for (int v = 0; v < size; v++) {
PatternSet p = patternsets.elementAt(v);
String[] incls = p.getIncludePatterns(getProject());
if (incls == null || incls.length == 0) {
// no include pattern implicitly means includes="**"
incls = new String[] {"**"};
}
for (int w = 0; w < incls.length; w++) {
String pattern = incls[w].replace('/', File.separatorChar)
.replace('\\', File.separatorChar);
if (pattern.endsWith(File.separator)) {
pattern += "**";
}
includePatterns.add(pattern);
}
String[] excls = p.getExcludePatterns(getProject());
if (excls != null) {
for (int w = 0; w < excls.length; w++) {
String pattern = excls[w]
.replace('/', File.separatorChar)
.replace('\\', File.separatorChar);
if (pattern.endsWith(File.separator)) {
pattern += "**";
}
excludePatterns.add(pattern);
}
}
}
for (Iterator<String> iter = includePatterns.iterator();
!included && iter.hasNext();) {
String pattern = iter.next();
included = SelectorUtils.matchPath(pattern, name);
}
for (Iterator<String> iter = excludePatterns.iterator();
included && iter.hasNext();) {
String pattern = iter.next();
included = !SelectorUtils.matchPath(pattern, name);
}
if (!included) {
//Do not process this file
log("skipping " + entryName
+ " as it is excluded or not included.",
Project.MSG_VERBOSE);
return;
}
}
String[] mappedNames = mapper.mapFileName(entryName);
if (mappedNames == null || mappedNames.length == 0) {
mappedNames = new String[] {entryName};
}
File f = fileUtils.resolveFile(dir, mappedNames[0]);
try {
if (!overwrite && f.exists()
&& f.lastModified() >= entryDate.getTime()) {
log("Skipping " + f + " as it is up-to-date",
Project.MSG_DEBUG);
return;
}
log("expanding " + entryName + " to " + f,
Project.MSG_VERBOSE);
// create intermediary directories - sometimes zip don't add them
File dirF = f.getParentFile();
if (dirF != null) {
dirF.mkdirs();
}
if (isDirectory) {
f.mkdirs();
} else {
byte[] buffer = new byte[BUFFER_SIZE];
int length = 0;
FileOutputStream fos = null;
try {
fos = new FileOutputStream(f);
while ((length =
compressedInputStream.read(buffer)) >= 0) {
fos.write(buffer, 0, length);
}
fos.close();
fos = null;
} finally {
FileUtils.close(fos);
}
}
fileUtils.setFileLastModified(f, entryDate.getTime());
} catch (FileNotFoundException ex) {
log("Unable to expand to file " + f.getPath(),
ex,
Project.MSG_WARN);
}
}
// CheckStyle:ParameterNumberCheck ON
/**
* Set the destination directory. File will be unzipped into the
* destination directory.
*
* @param d Path to the directory.
*/
public void setDest(File d) {
this.dest = d;
}
/**
* Set the path to zip-file.
*
* @param s Path to zip-file.
*/
public void setSrc(File s) {
this.source = s;
}
/**
* Should we overwrite files in dest, even if they are newer than
* the corresponding entries in the archive?
* @param b a <code>boolean</code> value
*/
public void setOverwrite(boolean b) {
overwrite = b;
}
/**
* Add a patternset.
* @param set a pattern set
*/
public void addPatternset(PatternSet set) {
patternsets.addElement(set);
}
/**
* Add a fileset
* @param set a file set
*/
public void addFileset(FileSet set) {
add(set);
}
/**
* Add a resource collection.
* @param rc a resource collection.
* @since Ant 1.7
*/
public void add(ResourceCollection rc) {
resourcesSpecified = true;
resources.add(rc);
}
/**
* Defines the mapper to map source entries to destination files.
* @return a mapper to be configured
* @exception BuildException if more than one mapper is defined
* @since Ant1.7
*/
public Mapper createMapper() throws BuildException {
if (mapperElement != null) {
throw new BuildException(ERROR_MULTIPLE_MAPPERS,
getLocation());
}
mapperElement = new Mapper(getProject());
return mapperElement;
}
/**
* A nested filenamemapper
* @param fileNameMapper the mapper to add
* @since Ant 1.6.3
*/
public void add(FileNameMapper fileNameMapper) {
createMapper().add(fileNameMapper);
}
/**
* Sets the encoding to assume for file names and comments.
*
* <p>Set to <code>native-encoding</code> if you want your
* platform's native encoding, defaults to UTF8.</p>
* @param encoding the name of the character encoding
* @since Ant 1.6
*/
public void setEncoding(String encoding) {
internalSetEncoding(encoding);
}
/**
* Supports grand-children that want to support the attribute
* where the child-class doesn't (i.e. Unzip in the compress
* Antlib).
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
protected void internalSetEncoding(String encoding) {
if (NATIVE_ENCODING.equals(encoding)) {
encoding = null;
}
this.encoding = encoding;
}
/**
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public String getEncoding() {
return encoding;
}
/**
* Whether leading path separators should be stripped.
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public void setStripAbsolutePathSpec(boolean b) {
stripAbsolutePathSpec = b;
}
/**
* Whether unicode extra fields will be used if present.
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public void setScanForUnicodeExtraFields(boolean b) {
internalSetScanForUnicodeExtraFields(b);
}
/**
* Supports grand-children that want to support the attribute
* where the child-class doesn't (i.e. Unzip in the compress
* Antlib).
*
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
protected void internalSetScanForUnicodeExtraFields(boolean b) {
scanForUnicodeExtraFields = b;
}
/**
* @since Ant 1.8.0
*/
public boolean getScanForUnicodeExtraFields() {
return scanForUnicodeExtraFields;
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
// Licensed to the .NET Foundation under one or more agreements.
// The .NET Foundation licenses this file to you under the MIT license.
// See the LICENSE file in the project root for more information.
/******************************************************************************
* This file is auto-generated from a template file by the GenerateTests.csx *
* script in tests\src\JIT\HardwareIntrinsics\X86\Shared. In order to make *
* changes, please update the corresponding template and run according to the *
* directions listed in the file. *
******************************************************************************/
using System;
using System.Runtime.CompilerServices;
using System.Runtime.InteropServices;
using System.Runtime.Intrinsics;
using System.Runtime.Intrinsics.X86;
namespace JIT.HardwareIntrinsics.X86
{
public static partial class Program
{
private static void MultiplyAddNegatedDouble()
{
var test = new SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble();
if (test.IsSupported)
{
// Validates basic functionality works, using Unsafe.Read
test.RunBasicScenario_UnsafeRead();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates basic functionality works, using Load
test.RunBasicScenario_Load();
// Validates basic functionality works, using LoadAligned
test.RunBasicScenario_LoadAligned();
}
// Validates calling via reflection works, using Unsafe.Read
test.RunReflectionScenario_UnsafeRead();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates calling via reflection works, using Load
test.RunReflectionScenario_Load();
// Validates calling via reflection works, using LoadAligned
test.RunReflectionScenario_LoadAligned();
}
// Validates passing a static member works
test.RunClsVarScenario();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing a static member works, using pinning and Load
test.RunClsVarScenario_Load();
}
// Validates passing a local works, using Unsafe.Read
test.RunLclVarScenario_UnsafeRead();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing a local works, using Load
test.RunLclVarScenario_Load();
// Validates passing a local works, using LoadAligned
test.RunLclVarScenario_LoadAligned();
}
// Validates passing the field of a local class works
test.RunClassLclFldScenario();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing the field of a local class works, using pinning and Load
test.RunClassLclFldScenario_Load();
}
// Validates passing an instance member of a class works
test.RunClassFldScenario();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing an instance member of a class works, using pinning and Load
test.RunClassFldScenario_Load();
}
// Validates passing the field of a local struct works
test.RunStructLclFldScenario();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing the field of a local struct works, using pinning and Load
test.RunStructLclFldScenario_Load();
}
// Validates passing an instance member of a struct works
test.RunStructFldScenario();
if (Sse2.IsSupported)
{
// Validates passing an instance member of a struct works, using pinning and Load
test.RunStructFldScenario_Load();
}
}
else
{
// Validates we throw on unsupported hardware
test.RunUnsupportedScenario();
}
if (!test.Succeeded)
{
throw new Exception("One or more scenarios did not complete as expected.");
}
}
}
public sealed unsafe class SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble
{
private struct DataTable
{
private byte[] inArray1;
private byte[] inArray2;
private byte[] inArray3;
private byte[] outArray;
private GCHandle inHandle1;
private GCHandle inHandle2;
private GCHandle inHandle3;
private GCHandle outHandle;
private ulong alignment;
public DataTable(Double[] inArray1, Double[] inArray2, Double[] inArray3, Double[] outArray, int alignment)
{
int sizeOfinArray1 = inArray1.Length * Unsafe.SizeOf<Double>();
int sizeOfinArray2 = inArray2.Length * Unsafe.SizeOf<Double>();
int sizeOfinArray3 = inArray3.Length * Unsafe.SizeOf<Double>();
int sizeOfoutArray = outArray.Length * Unsafe.SizeOf<Double>();
if ((alignment != 32 && alignment != 16) || (alignment * 2) < sizeOfinArray1 || (alignment * 2) < sizeOfinArray2 || (alignment * 2) < sizeOfinArray3 || (alignment * 2) < sizeOfoutArray)
{
throw new ArgumentException("Invalid value of alignment");
}
this.inArray1 = new byte[alignment * 2];
this.inArray2 = new byte[alignment * 2];
this.inArray3 = new byte[alignment * 2];
this.outArray = new byte[alignment * 2];
this.inHandle1 = GCHandle.Alloc(this.inArray1, GCHandleType.Pinned);
this.inHandle2 = GCHandle.Alloc(this.inArray2, GCHandleType.Pinned);
this.inHandle3 = GCHandle.Alloc(this.inArray3, GCHandleType.Pinned);
this.outHandle = GCHandle.Alloc(this.outArray, GCHandleType.Pinned);
this.alignment = (ulong)alignment;
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(inArray1Ptr), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray1[0]), (uint)sizeOfinArray1);
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(inArray2Ptr), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray2[0]), (uint)sizeOfinArray2);
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(inArray3Ptr), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray3[0]), (uint)sizeOfinArray3);
}
public void* inArray1Ptr => Align((byte*)(inHandle1.AddrOfPinnedObject().ToPointer()), alignment);
public void* inArray2Ptr => Align((byte*)(inHandle2.AddrOfPinnedObject().ToPointer()), alignment);
public void* inArray3Ptr => Align((byte*)(inHandle3.AddrOfPinnedObject().ToPointer()), alignment);
public void* outArrayPtr => Align((byte*)(outHandle.AddrOfPinnedObject().ToPointer()), alignment);
public void Dispose()
{
inHandle1.Free();
inHandle2.Free();
inHandle3.Free();
outHandle.Free();
}
private static unsafe void* Align(byte* buffer, ulong expectedAlignment)
{
return (void*)(((ulong)buffer + expectedAlignment - 1) & ~(expectedAlignment - 1));
}
}
private struct TestStruct
{
public Vector128<Double> _fld1;
public Vector128<Double> _fld2;
public Vector128<Double> _fld3;
public static TestStruct Create()
{
var testStruct = new TestStruct();
for (var i = 0; i < Op1ElementCount; i++) { _data1[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref testStruct._fld1), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data1[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op2ElementCount; i++) { _data2[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref testStruct._fld2), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data2[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op3ElementCount; i++) { _data3[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref testStruct._fld3), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data3[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
return testStruct;
}
public void RunStructFldScenario(SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble testClass)
{
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3);
Unsafe.Write(testClass._dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
testClass.ValidateResult(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3, testClass._dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunStructFldScenario_Load(SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble testClass)
{
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld1 = &_fld1)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld2 = &_fld2)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld3 = &_fld3)
{
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld1)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld2)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld3))
);
Unsafe.Write(testClass._dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
testClass.ValidateResult(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3, testClass._dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
}
}
private static readonly int LargestVectorSize = 16;
private static readonly int Op1ElementCount = Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>() / sizeof(Double);
private static readonly int Op2ElementCount = Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>() / sizeof(Double);
private static readonly int Op3ElementCount = Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>() / sizeof(Double);
private static readonly int RetElementCount = Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>() / sizeof(Double);
private static Double[] _data1 = new Double[Op1ElementCount];
private static Double[] _data2 = new Double[Op2ElementCount];
private static Double[] _data3 = new Double[Op3ElementCount];
private static Vector128<Double> _clsVar1;
private static Vector128<Double> _clsVar2;
private static Vector128<Double> _clsVar3;
private Vector128<Double> _fld1;
private Vector128<Double> _fld2;
private Vector128<Double> _fld3;
private DataTable _dataTable;
static SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble()
{
for (var i = 0; i < Op1ElementCount; i++) { _data1[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _clsVar1), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data1[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op2ElementCount; i++) { _data2[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _clsVar2), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data2[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op3ElementCount; i++) { _data3[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _clsVar3), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data3[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
}
public SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble()
{
Succeeded = true;
for (var i = 0; i < Op1ElementCount; i++) { _data1[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _fld1), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data1[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op2ElementCount; i++) { _data2[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _fld2), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data2[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op3ElementCount; i++) { _data3[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Vector128<Double>, byte>(ref _fld3), ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref _data3[0]), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
for (var i = 0; i < Op1ElementCount; i++) { _data1[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
for (var i = 0; i < Op2ElementCount; i++) { _data2[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
for (var i = 0; i < Op3ElementCount; i++) { _data3[i] = TestLibrary.Generator.GetDouble(); }
_dataTable = new DataTable(_data1, _data2, _data3, new Double[RetElementCount], LargestVectorSize);
}
public bool IsSupported => Fma.IsSupported;
public bool Succeeded { get; set; }
public void RunBasicScenario_UnsafeRead()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunBasicScenario_UnsafeRead));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr),
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr),
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr)
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunBasicScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunBasicScenario_Load));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunBasicScenario_LoadAligned()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunBasicScenario_LoadAligned));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunReflectionScenario_UnsafeRead()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunReflectionScenario_UnsafeRead));
var result = typeof(Fma).GetMethod(nameof(Fma.MultiplyAddNegated), new Type[] { typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>) })
.Invoke(null, new object[] {
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr),
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr),
Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr)
});
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, (Vector128<Double>)(result));
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunReflectionScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunReflectionScenario_Load));
var result = typeof(Fma).GetMethod(nameof(Fma.MultiplyAddNegated), new Type[] { typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>) })
.Invoke(null, new object[] {
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr))
});
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, (Vector128<Double>)(result));
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunReflectionScenario_LoadAligned()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunReflectionScenario_LoadAligned));
var result = typeof(Fma).GetMethod(nameof(Fma.MultiplyAddNegated), new Type[] { typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>), typeof(Vector128<Double>) })
.Invoke(null, new object[] {
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr)),
Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr))
});
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, (Vector128<Double>)(result));
ValidateResult(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr, _dataTable.inArray2Ptr, _dataTable.inArray3Ptr, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunClsVarScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClsVarScenario));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
_clsVar1,
_clsVar2,
_clsVar3
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_clsVar1, _clsVar2, _clsVar3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunClsVarScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClsVarScenario_Load));
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pClsVar1 = &_clsVar1)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pClsVar2 = &_clsVar2)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pClsVar3 = &_clsVar3)
{
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pClsVar1)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pClsVar2)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pClsVar3))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_clsVar1, _clsVar2, _clsVar3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
}
public void RunLclVarScenario_UnsafeRead()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunLclVarScenario_UnsafeRead));
var op1 = Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr);
var op2 = Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr);
var op3 = Unsafe.Read<Vector128<Double>>(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr);
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(op1, op2, op3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(op1, op2, op3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunLclVarScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunLclVarScenario_Load));
var op1 = Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr));
var op2 = Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr));
var op3 = Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(op1, op2, op3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(op1, op2, op3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunLclVarScenario_LoadAligned()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunLclVarScenario_LoadAligned));
var op1 = Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray1Ptr));
var op2 = Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray2Ptr));
var op3 = Sse2.LoadAlignedVector128((Double*)(_dataTable.inArray3Ptr));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(op1, op2, op3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(op1, op2, op3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunClassLclFldScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClassLclFldScenario));
var test = new SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble();
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunClassLclFldScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClassLclFldScenario_Load));
var test = new SimpleTernaryOpTest__MultiplyAddNegatedDouble();
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld1 = &test._fld1)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld2 = &test._fld2)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld3 = &test._fld3)
{
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld1)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld2)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld3))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
}
public void RunClassFldScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClassFldScenario));
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunClassFldScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunClassFldScenario_Load));
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld1 = &_fld1)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld2 = &_fld2)
fixed (Vector128<Double>* pFld3 = &_fld3)
{
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld1)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld2)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(pFld3))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(_fld1, _fld2, _fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
}
public void RunStructLclFldScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunStructLclFldScenario));
var test = TestStruct.Create();
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunStructLclFldScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunStructLclFldScenario_Load));
var test = TestStruct.Create();
var result = Fma.MultiplyAddNegated(
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(&test._fld1)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(&test._fld2)),
Sse2.LoadVector128((Double*)(&test._fld3))
);
Unsafe.Write(_dataTable.outArrayPtr, result);
ValidateResult(test._fld1, test._fld2, test._fld3, _dataTable.outArrayPtr);
}
public void RunStructFldScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunStructFldScenario));
var test = TestStruct.Create();
test.RunStructFldScenario(this);
}
public void RunStructFldScenario_Load()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunStructFldScenario_Load));
var test = TestStruct.Create();
test.RunStructFldScenario_Load(this);
}
public void RunUnsupportedScenario()
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.BeginScenario(nameof(RunUnsupportedScenario));
bool succeeded = false;
try
{
RunBasicScenario_UnsafeRead();
}
catch (PlatformNotSupportedException)
{
succeeded = true;
}
if (!succeeded)
{
Succeeded = false;
}
}
private void ValidateResult(Vector128<Double> op1, Vector128<Double> op2, Vector128<Double> op3, void* result, [CallerMemberName] string method = "")
{
Double[] inArray1 = new Double[Op1ElementCount];
Double[] inArray2 = new Double[Op2ElementCount];
Double[] inArray3 = new Double[Op3ElementCount];
Double[] outArray = new Double[RetElementCount];
Unsafe.WriteUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray1[0]), op1);
Unsafe.WriteUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray2[0]), op2);
Unsafe.WriteUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray3[0]), op3);
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref outArray[0]), ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(result), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
ValidateResult(inArray1, inArray2, inArray3, outArray, method);
}
private void ValidateResult(void* op1, void* op2, void* op3, void* result, [CallerMemberName] string method = "")
{
Double[] inArray1 = new Double[Op1ElementCount];
Double[] inArray2 = new Double[Op2ElementCount];
Double[] inArray3 = new Double[Op3ElementCount];
Double[] outArray = new Double[RetElementCount];
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray1[0]), ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(op1), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray2[0]), ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(op2), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref inArray3[0]), ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(op3), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
Unsafe.CopyBlockUnaligned(ref Unsafe.As<Double, byte>(ref outArray[0]), ref Unsafe.AsRef<byte>(result), (uint)Unsafe.SizeOf<Vector128<Double>>());
ValidateResult(inArray1, inArray2, inArray3, outArray, method);
}
private void ValidateResult(Double[] firstOp, Double[] secondOp, Double[] thirdOp, Double[] result, [CallerMemberName] string method = "")
{
bool succeeded = true;
if (BitConverter.DoubleToInt64Bits(Math.Round(-(firstOp[0] * secondOp[0]) + thirdOp[0], 9)) != BitConverter.DoubleToInt64Bits(Math.Round(result[0], 9)))
{
succeeded = false;
}
else
{
for (var i = 1; i < RetElementCount; i++)
{
if (BitConverter.DoubleToInt64Bits(Math.Round(-(firstOp[i] * secondOp[i]) + thirdOp[i], 9)) != BitConverter.DoubleToInt64Bits(Math.Round(result[i], 9)))
{
succeeded = false;
break;
}
}
}
if (!succeeded)
{
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation($"{nameof(Fma)}.{nameof(Fma.MultiplyAddNegated)}<Double>(Vector128<Double>, Vector128<Double>, Vector128<Double>): {method} failed:");
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation($" firstOp: ({string.Join(", ", firstOp)})");
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation($"secondOp: ({string.Join(", ", secondOp)})");
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation($" thirdOp: ({string.Join(", ", thirdOp)})");
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation($" result: ({string.Join(", ", result)})");
TestLibrary.TestFramework.LogInformation(string.Empty);
Succeeded = false;
}
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Electric charge
Electric charge Electric field of a positive and a negative point charge Common symbols Q SI unit coulomb Other units elementary charge faraday ampere - hour In SI base units C = A s Extensive? yes Conserved? yes Dimension
Passage 2:
Ministry of Tourism (India)
The Ministry of Tourism, a branch of the Government of India, is the apex body for formulation and administration of the rules, regulations and laws relating to the development and promotion of tourism in India. The head of the ministry is Minister of Tourism, a Minister of State (Independent Charge), held by Shri. Alphons Kannanthanam Since September 2017. To promote the GDP of the country indirectly and to have friendly relations with them, The Government of India announced officially a Visa on Arrival status / facility for International Visitors to enter / visit India from 43 countries including United States, Australia, Vietnam, Thailand, Vanuatu, Singapore, Israel, Jordan, Kenya, Russian Federation, Brazil, Finland, Germany, Japan, Myanmar on 27 November 2014 and some more countries to follow soon.
Passage 3:
Maximiliano Badell
Maximiliano Badell (born August 29, 1988 in La Plata, Argentina) is an Argentine footballer currently playing for Herediano of the Primera División in Costa Rica.
Passage 4:
Electric charge
Charge is the fundamental property of forms of matter that exhibit electrostatic attraction or repulsion in the presence of other matter. Electric charge is a characteristic property of many subatomic particles. The charges of free - standing particles are integer multiples of the elementary charge e; we say that electric charge is quantized. Michael Faraday, in his electrolysis experiments, was the first to note the discrete nature of electric charge. Robert Millikan's oil drop experiment demonstrated this fact directly, and measured the elementary charge. It has been discovered that one type of particle, quarks, have fractional charges of either − 1 / 3 or + 2 / 3, but it is believed they always occur in multiples of integral charge; free - standing quarks have never been observed.
Passage 5:
Chief of Naval Research
The Chief of Naval Research is the senior military officer in charge of scientific research in the United States Navy. The Chief of Naval Research has a rank of Rear Admiral, and is in charge of the Office of Naval Research.
Passage 6:
Republic of the Congo
The Republic of the Congo received full independence from France on August 15, 1960. Fulbert Youlou ruled as the country's first president until labour elements and rival political parties instigated a three-day uprising that ousted him. The Congolese military took charge of the country briefly and installed a civilian provisional government headed by Alphonse Massamba-Débat.
Passage 7:
Badel, Somalia
Badel is a small village in Somalia. In 2007, it was the target of an attack on al-Qaeda by American forces.
Passage 8:
Tesla, Inc.
The Tesla Roadster (2008) was the first production automobile to use lithium - ion battery cells and the first production EV with a range greater than 200 mi (320 km) per charge. Between 2008 and March 2012, Tesla sold more than 2,250 Roadsters in 31 countries. Tesla stopped taking orders for the Roadster in the U.S. market in August 2011.
Passage 9:
Crimean War
Cardigan formed up his unit and charged the length of the Valley of the Balaclava, under fire from Russian batteries in the hills. The charge of the Light Brigade caused 278 casualties of the 700-man unit. The Light Brigade was memorialized in the famous poem by Alfred Lord Tennyson, "The Charge of the Light Brigade." Although traditionally the charge of the Light Brigade was looked upon as a glorious but wasted sacrifice of good men and horses, recent historians say that the charge of the Light Brigade did succeed in at least some of its objectives. The aim of any cavalry charge is to scatter the enemy lines and frighten the enemy off the battlefield. The charge of the Light Brigade had so unnerved the Russian cavalry, which had previously been routed by the Heavy Brigade, that the Russian Cavalry was set to full-scale flight by the subsequent charge of the Light Brigade.:252
Passage 10:
Somalia
On 10 September 2012, parliament elected Hassan Sheikh Mohamud as the new President of Somalia. President Mohamud later appointed Abdi Farah Shirdon as the new Prime Minister on 6 October 2012, who was succeeded in office by Abdiweli Sheikh Ahmed on 21 December 2013. On 17 December 2014, former Premier Omar Abdirashid Ali Sharmarke was reappointed Prime Minister.
Passage 11:
USB
The USB Battery Charging Specification Revision 1.1 (released in 2007) defines a new type of USB port, called the charging port. Contrary to the standard downstream port, for which current draw by a connected portable device can exceed 100 mA only after digital negotiation with the host or hub, a charging port can supply currents between 500 mA and 1.5 A without the digital negotiation. A charging port supplies up to 500 mA at 5 V, up to the rated current at 3.6 V or more, and drops its output voltage if the portable device attempts to draw more than the rated current. The charger port may shut down if the load is too high.
Passage 12:
Nissan Leaf
The Nissan Leaf (Japanese: 日産リーフ) is a compact five - door hatchback electric car manufactured by Nissan and introduced in Japan and the United States in December 2010, followed by various European countries and Canada in 2011. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency (EPA) official range for the 2018 model year Leaf is 243 km (151 miles) on a full battery charge. The battery can be charged from empty to 80% capacity in about 30 minutes using DC fast charging.
Passage 13:
Pharmacy
In the United States, there has been a push to legalize importation of medications from Canada and other countries, in order to reduce consumer costs. While in most cases importation of prescription medications violates Food and Drug Administration (FDA) regulations and federal laws, enforcement is generally targeted at international drug suppliers, rather than consumers. There is no known case of any U.S. citizens buying Canadian drugs for personal use with a prescription, who has ever been charged by authorities.
Passage 14:
Pizza delivery
Domino's Pizza is credited with popularizing free pizza delivery in the United States. Pizza Hut began experimenting in 1999 with a 50 - cent delivery charge in ten stores in the Dallas - Fort Worth area. By mid-2001 it was implemented in 95% of its 1,749 company - owned restaurants in the U.S., and in a smaller number of its 5,250 franchisee - owned restaurants. By 2002, a small percentage of stores owned or franchised by U.S. pizza companies Domino's and Papa John's were also charging delivery fees of 50 cents to $1.50, and some of Little Caesar's franchisees charged delivery fees. In 2005, Papa John's implemented delivery charges in the majority of its company - owned stores.
Passage 15:
Southern Europe
Italy became a major industrialized country again, due to its post-war economic miracle. The European Union (EU) involved the division of powers, with taxation, health and education handled by the nation states, while the EU had charge of market rules, competition, legal standards and environmentalism. The Soviet economic and political system collapsed, leading to the end of communism in the satellite countries in 1989, and the dissolution of the Soviet Union itself in 1991. As a consequence, Europe's integration deepened, the continent became depolarised, and the European Union expanded to subsequently include many of the formerly communist European countries – Romania and Bulgaria (2007) and Croatia (2013).
Passage 16:
USB
Two types of charging port exist: the charging downstream port (CDP), supporting data transfers as well, and the dedicated charging port (DCP), without data support. A portable device can recognize the type of USB port; on a dedicated charging port, the D+ and D− pins are shorted with a resistance not exceeding 200 ohms, while charging downstream ports provide additional detection logic so their presence can be determined by attached devices. (see ref pg. 2, Section 1.4.5, & Table 5-3 "Resistances"—pg. 29).
Passage 17:
Narang Aw Badil District
Narang, Kunar, Afghanistan نرنګ in Pashto and Persian is situated in the central part of Kunar Province, Afghanistan south of Asadabad. It is surrounded by high mountains and the Kunar River. The population is 36,700 (2014). The district center is the village of Kuz Narang () at 742 m altitude. It is the kunar 2nd largest district regarding Agriculture Land. The irrigation system is under rehabilitation.The land is in much good condition and fertile. The irrigation system is almost the best in Kunar province. About 75% of the people are educated. The famous villages are: 1: Bar-Narhang 2: Kotkay 3: Badel dara 4: kuz-Narhang 5: Lamatak 6: dandona 7: Char qala 8: kodo ; etc
Passage 18:
Plum pudding model
The plum pudding model is one of several scientific models of the atom. First proposed by J.J. Thomson in 1904 soon after the discovery of the electron, but before the discovery of the atomic nucleus, the model represented an attempt to consolidate the known properties of atoms at the time: 1) electrons are negatively - charged particles and 2) atoms are neutrally - charged.
Passage 19:
United States Postal Service
The official post office was created in 1792 as the Post Office Department (USPOD). It was based on the Constitutional authority empowering Congress ``To establish post offices and post roads ''. The 1792 law provided for a greatly expanded postal network, and served editors by charging newspapers an extremely low rate. The law guaranteed the sanctity of personal correspondence, and provided the entire country with low - cost access to information on public affairs, while establishing a right to personal privacy.
Passage 20:
The Deck of Cards
``The Deck of Cards ''is a recitation song that was popularized in the fields of both the country and popular music, first during the late 1940s. This song, which relates the tale of a young American soldier arrested and charged with playing cards during a church service, first became a hit in the U.S. in 1948 by country musician T. Texas Tyler.
Question: Who was in charge of the country where Badel is located?
Answer: Hassan Sheikh Mohamud
|
{
"task_name": "MuSiQue"
}
|
Passage 1:
Kim Jee-woon
Kim Jee-woon( born July 6, 1964) is a South Korean film director and screenwriter.
Passage 2:
A Bittersweet Life
A Bittersweet Life( lit." The Sweet Life") is a 2005 South Korean action film written and directed by Kim Jee-woon and starring Lee Byung- hun. The film follows a hitman who refuses to kill his boss's cheating girlfriend and eventually faces the heat from him. Two versions of the film exist, the original theatrical version and the director's cut. The director's cut's edits include slight cutting and re-arrangement of scenes, swapping music placement and some additional scenes that do not appear in the original version of the film.
Passage 3:
Ahmed (film)
Ahmed is a 2006 film.
Passage 4:
Bipasha: The Black Beauty
Bipasha: The Black Beauty is a 2006 film.
Passage 5:
Neil Armfield
Neil Geoffrey Armfield( born 22 April 1955) is an Australian director of theatre, film and opera.
Passage 6:
Usuku Lwan
Usuku Lwan is a 2006 film.
Passage 7:
Lee Ki-young
Lee Ki-young( born August 26, 1963) is a South Korean actor. His notable roles include" Marathon"( 2005)," A Bittersweet Life"( 2005), and" Love Me Not"( 2006).
Passage 8:
Kinshasa palace
Kinshasa palace is a 2006 film.
Passage 9:
Candy (2006 film)
Candy is a 2006 Australian romantic drama film, adapted from Luke Davies's novel." Candy" was directed by debut film- maker Neil Armfield and stars Heath Ledger, Abbie Cornish and Geoffrey Rush. " Candy", produced by Margaret Fink, was released in Australia on 25 May 2006 and subsequently released around the world.
Passage 10:
Talfaza Jaya
Talfaza Jaya is a 2006 film.
Question: Are the directors of films Candy (2006 Film) and A Bittersweet Life both from the same country?
Answer: no
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Text;
using FileHelpers.Dynamic;
using System.IO;
using FileHelpers.Helpers;
namespace FileHelpers.Detection
{
/// <summary>
/// Utility class used to auto detect the record format,
/// the number of fields, the type, etc.
/// </summary>
public sealed class SmartFormatDetector
{
/// <summary>
/// Initializes a new instance of the <see cref="SmartFormatDetector"/> class.
/// </summary>
public SmartFormatDetector()
{
QuotedChar = '"';
}
#region " Constants "
private const int MinSampleData = 10;
private const double MinDelimitedDeviation = 0.30001;
#endregion
#region " Properties "
private FormatHint mFormatHint;
/// <summary>
/// Provides a suggestion to the <see cref="SmartFormatDetector"/>
/// about the records in the file
/// </summary>
public FormatHint FormatHint
{
get { return mFormatHint; }
set { mFormatHint = value; }
}
private int mMaxSampleLines = 300;
/// <summary>
/// The number of lines of each file to be used as sample data.
/// </summary>
public int MaxSampleLines
{
get { return mMaxSampleLines; }
set { mMaxSampleLines = value; }
}
private Encoding mEncoding = Encoding.GetEncoding(0);
/// <summary>The encoding to Read and Write the streams.</summary>
/// <remarks>Default is the system's current ANSI code page.</remarks>
public Encoding Encoding
{
get { return mEncoding; }
set { mEncoding = value; }
}
private double mFixedLengthDeviationTolerance = 0.01;
///<summary>
///Indicates if the sample file has headers
///</summary>
public bool? FileHasHeaders { get; set; }
/// <summary>
/// Used to calculate when a file has fixed length records.
/// Between 0.0 - 1.0 (Default 0.01)
/// </summary>
public double FixedLengthDeviationTolerance
{
get { return mFixedLengthDeviationTolerance; }
set { mFixedLengthDeviationTolerance = value; }
}
#endregion
#region " Public Methods "
/// <summary>
/// Tries to detect the possible formats of the file using the <see cref="FormatHint"/>
/// </summary>
/// <param name="file">The file to be used as sample data</param>
/// <returns>The possible <see cref="RecordFormatInfo"/> of the file.</returns>
public RecordFormatInfo[] DetectFileFormat(string file)
{
return DetectFileFormat(new string[] {file});
}
/// <summary>
/// Tries to detect the possible formats of the file using the <see cref="FormatHint"/>
/// </summary>
/// <param name="files">The files to be used as sample data</param>
/// <returns>The possible <see cref="RecordFormatInfo"/> of the file.</returns>
public RecordFormatInfo[] DetectFileFormat(IEnumerable<string> files)
{
var readers = new List<TextReader>();
foreach (var file in files)
{
readers.Add(new StreamReader(file, Encoding));
}
var res = DetectFileFormat(readers);
foreach (var reader in readers)
{
reader.Close();
}
return res;
}
/// <summary>
/// Tries to detect the possible formats of the file using the <see cref="FormatHint"/>
/// </summary>
/// <param name="files">The files to be used as sample data</param>
/// <returns>The possible <see cref="RecordFormatInfo"/> of the file.</returns>
public RecordFormatInfo[] DetectFileFormat(IEnumerable<TextReader> files)
{
var res = new List<RecordFormatInfo>();
string[][] sampleData = GetSampleLines(files, MaxSampleLines);
switch (mFormatHint) {
case FormatHint.Unknown:
CreateMixedOptions(sampleData, res);
break;
case FormatHint.FixedLength:
CreateFixedLengthOptions(sampleData, res);
break;
case FormatHint.Delimited:
CreateDelimiterOptions(sampleData, res);
break;
case FormatHint.DelimitedByTab:
CreateDelimiterOptions(sampleData, res, '\t');
break;
case FormatHint.DelimitedByComma:
CreateDelimiterOptions(sampleData, res, ',');
break;
case FormatHint.DelimitedBySemicolon:
CreateDelimiterOptions(sampleData, res, ';');
break;
default:
throw new InvalidOperationException("Unsuported FormatHint value.");
}
foreach (var option in res) {
DetectOptionals(option, sampleData);
DetectTypes(option, sampleData);
DetectQuoted(option, sampleData);
}
// Sort by confidence
res.Sort(
delegate(RecordFormatInfo x, RecordFormatInfo y) { return -1*x.Confidence.CompareTo(y.Confidence); });
return res.ToArray();
}
#endregion
#region " Fields Properties Methods "
private void DetectQuoted(RecordFormatInfo format, string[][] data)
{
if (format.ClassBuilder is FixedLengthClassBuilder)
return;
// TODO: Add FieldQuoted
}
private void DetectTypes(RecordFormatInfo format, string[][] data)
{
// TODO: Try to detect posible formats (mostly numbers or dates)
}
private void DetectOptionals(RecordFormatInfo option, string[][] data)
{
// TODO: Try to detect optional fields
}
#endregion
#region " Create Options Methods "
// UNKNOWN
private void CreateMixedOptions(string[][] data, List<RecordFormatInfo> res)
{
var stats = Indicators.CalculateAsFixedSize (data);
if (stats.Deviation / stats.Avg <= FixedLengthDeviationTolerance * Math.Min (1, NumberOfLines (data) / MinSampleData))
CreateFixedLengthOptions(data, res);
CreateDelimiterOptions(data, res);
//if (deviation > average * 0.01 &&
// deviation < average * 0.05)
// CreateFixedLengthOptions(data, res);
}
// FIXED LENGTH
private void CreateFixedLengthOptions(string[][] data, List<RecordFormatInfo> res)
{
var format = new RecordFormatInfo();
var stats = Indicators.CalculateAsFixedSize (data);
format.mConfidence = (int)(Math.Max (0, 1 - stats.Deviation / stats.Avg) * 100);
var builder = new FixedLengthClassBuilder("AutoDetectedClass");
CreateFixedLengthFields(data, builder);
format.mClassBuilder = builder;
res.Add(format);
}
/// <summary>
/// start and length of fixed length column
/// </summary>
private class FixedColumnInfo
{
/// <summary>
/// start position of column
/// </summary>
public int Start;
/// <summary>
/// Length of column
/// </summary>
public int Length;
}
private void CreateFixedLengthFields(string[][] data, FixedLengthClassBuilder builder)
{
List<FixedColumnInfo> res = null;
foreach (var dataFile in data) {
List<FixedColumnInfo> candidates = CreateFixedLengthCandidates(dataFile);
res = JoinFixedColCandidates(res, candidates);
}
for (int i = 0; i < res.Count; i++) {
FixedColumnInfo col = res[i];
builder.AddField("Field" + i.ToString().PadLeft(4, '0'), col.Length, typeof (string));
}
}
private List<FixedColumnInfo> CreateFixedLengthCandidates(string[] lines)
{
List<FixedColumnInfo> res = null;
foreach (var line in lines) {
var candidates = new List<FixedColumnInfo>();
int blanks = 0;
FixedColumnInfo col = null;
for (int i = 1; i < line.Length; i++) {
if (char.IsWhiteSpace(line[i]))
blanks += 1;
else {
if (blanks > 2) {
if (col == null) {
col = new FixedColumnInfo {
Start = 0,
Length = i
};
}
else {
FixedColumnInfo prevCol = col;
col = new FixedColumnInfo {
Start = prevCol.Start + prevCol.Length
};
col.Length = i - col.Start;
}
candidates.Add(col);
blanks = 0;
}
}
}
if (col == null) {
col = new FixedColumnInfo {
Start = 0,
Length = line.Length
};
}
else {
FixedColumnInfo prevCol = col;
col = new FixedColumnInfo {
Start = prevCol.Start + prevCol.Length
};
col.Length = line.Length - col.Start;
}
candidates.Add(col);
res = JoinFixedColCandidates(res, candidates);
}
return res;
}
private List<FixedColumnInfo> JoinFixedColCandidates(List<FixedColumnInfo> cand1, List<FixedColumnInfo> cand2)
{
if (cand1 == null)
return cand2;
if (cand2 == null)
return cand1;
// Merge the result based on confidence
return cand1;
}
bool HeadersInData (DelimiterInfo info, string[] headerValues, string[] rows)
{
var duplicate = 0;
var first = true;
foreach (var row in rows) {
if (first) {
first = false;
continue;
}
var values = row.Split (new char[]{ info.Delimiter });
if (values.Length != headerValues.Length)
continue;
for (int i = 0; i < values.Length; i++) {
if (values [i] == headerValues [i])
duplicate++;
}
}
return duplicate >= rows.Length * 0.25;
}
bool DetectIfContainsHeaders (DelimiterInfo info, string[][] sampleData)
{
if (sampleData.Length >= 2) {
return SameFirstLine (info, sampleData);
}
if (sampleData.Length >= 1) {
var firstLine = sampleData [0] [0].Split (new char[]{ info.Delimiter });
var res = AreAllHeaders (firstLine);
if (res == false)
return false; // if has headers that starts with numbers so near sure are data and no header is present
if (HeadersInData(info, firstLine, sampleData[0]))
return false;
return true;
}
return false;
}
bool SameFirstLine (DelimiterInfo info, string[][] sampleData)
{
for (int i = 1; i < sampleData.Length; i++) {
if (!SameHeaders (info, sampleData [0][0], sampleData [i][0]))
return false;
}
return true;
}
bool SameHeaders (DelimiterInfo info, string line1, string line2)
{
return line1.Replace (info.Delimiter.ToString (), "").Trim ()
== line2.Replace (info.Delimiter.ToString (), "").Trim ();
}
bool AreAllHeaders ( string[] rowData)
{
foreach (var item in rowData) {
var fieldData = item.Trim ();
if (fieldData.Length == 0)
return false;
if (char.IsDigit (fieldData [0]))
return false;
}
return true;
}
// DELIMITED
private void CreateDelimiterOptions(string[][] sampleData, List<RecordFormatInfo> res, char delimiter = '\0')
{
var delimiters = new List<DelimiterInfo>();
if (delimiter == '\0')
delimiters = GetDelimiters(sampleData);
else
delimiters.Add(GetDelimiterInfo(sampleData, delimiter));
foreach (var info in delimiters) {
var format = new RecordFormatInfo {
mConfidence = (int) ((1 - info.Deviation)*100)
};
AdjustConfidence(format, info);
var fileHasHeaders = false;
if (FileHasHeaders.HasValue)
fileHasHeaders = FileHasHeaders.Value;
else {
fileHasHeaders = DetectIfContainsHeaders (info, sampleData) ;
}
var builder = new DelimitedClassBuilder("AutoDetectedClass", info.Delimiter.ToString()) {
IgnoreFirstLines = fileHasHeaders
? 1
: 0
};
var firstLineSplitted = sampleData[0][0].Split(info.Delimiter);
for (int i = 0; i < info.Max + 1; i++) {
string name = "Field " + (i + 1).ToString().PadLeft(3, '0');
if (fileHasHeaders && i < firstLineSplitted.Length)
name = firstLineSplitted[i];
var f = builder.AddField(StringHelper.ToValidIdentifier(name));
if (i > info.Min)
f.FieldOptional = true;
}
format.mClassBuilder = builder;
res.Add(format);
}
}
private void AdjustConfidence(RecordFormatInfo format, DelimiterInfo info)
{
switch (info.Delimiter) {
case '"': // Avoid the quote identifier
case '\'': // Avoid the quote identifier
format.mConfidence = (int) (format.Confidence*0.2);
break;
case '/': // Avoid the date delimiters and url to be selected
case '.': // Avoid the decimal separator to be selected
format.mConfidence = (int) (format.Confidence*0.4);
break;
case '@': // Avoid the mails separator to be selected
case '&': // Avoid this is near a letter and URLS
case '=': // Avoid because URLS contains it
case ':': // Avoid because URLS contains it
format.mConfidence = (int) (format.Confidence*0.6);
break;
case '-': // Avoid this other date separator
format.mConfidence = (int) (format.Confidence*0.7);
break;
case ',': // Help the , ; tab | to be confident
case ';':
case '\t':
case '|':
format.mConfidence = (int) Math.Min(100, format.Confidence*1.15);
break;
}
}
#endregion
#region " Helper & Utility Methods "
private string[][] GetSampleLines(IEnumerable<string> files, int nroOfLines)
{
var res = new List<string[]>();
foreach (var file in files)
res.Add(RawReadFirstLinesArray(file, nroOfLines, mEncoding));
return res.ToArray();
}
private static string[][] GetSampleLines(IEnumerable<TextReader> files, int nroOfLines)
{
var res = new List<string[]>();
foreach (var file in files)
res.Add(RawReadFirstLinesArray(file, nroOfLines));
return res.ToArray();
}
private static int NumberOfLines(string[][] data)
{
int lines = 0;
foreach (var fileData in data)
lines += fileData.Length;
return lines;
}
/// <summary>
/// Shortcut method to read the first n lines of a text file as array.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="file">The file name</param>
/// <param name="lines">The number of lines to read.</param>
/// <param name="encoding">The Encoding used to read the file</param>
/// <returns>The first n lines of the file.</returns>
private static string[] RawReadFirstLinesArray(string file, int lines, Encoding encoding)
{
var res = new List<string>(lines);
using (var reader = new StreamReader(file, encoding))
{
for (int i = 0; i < lines; i++)
{
string line = reader.ReadLine();
if (line == null)
break;
else
res.Add(line);
}
}
return res.ToArray();
}
/// <summary>
/// Shortcut method to read the first n lines of a text file as array.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="stream">The text reader name</param>
/// <param name="lines">The number of lines to read.</param>
/// <returns>The first n lines of the file.</returns>
private static string[] RawReadFirstLinesArray(TextReader stream, int lines)
{
var res = new List<string>(lines);
for (int i = 0; i < lines; i++)
{
string line = stream.ReadLine();
if (line == null)
break;
else
res.Add(line);
}
return res.ToArray();
}
/// <summary>
/// Calculate statistics based on sample data for the delimitter supplied
/// </summary>
/// <param name="data"></param>
/// <param name="delimiter"></param>
/// <returns></returns>
private DelimiterInfo GetDelimiterInfo(string[][] data, char delimiter)
{
var indicators = Indicators.CalculateByDelimiter (delimiter, data, QuotedChar);
return new DelimiterInfo (delimiter, indicators.Avg, indicators.Max, indicators.Min, indicators.Deviation);
}
private List<DelimiterInfo> GetDelimiters(string[][] data)
{
var frequency = new Dictionary<char, int>();
int lines = 0;
for (int i = 0; i < data.Length; i++) {
for (int j = 0; j < data[i].Length; j++) {
// Ignore Header Line (if any)
if (j == 0)
continue;
// ignore empty lines
string line = data[i][j];
if (string.IsNullOrEmpty (line))
continue;
// analyse line
lines++;
for (int ci = 0; ci < line.Length; ci++) {
char c = line[ci];
if (char.IsLetterOrDigit(c)
||
c == ' ')
continue;
int count;
if (frequency.TryGetValue(c, out count)) {
count++;
frequency[c] = count;
}
else
frequency.Add(c, 1);
}
}
}
var candidates = new List<DelimiterInfo>();
// sanity check
if (lines == 0)
return candidates;
// remove delimiters with low occurrence count
var delimiters = new List<char> (frequency.Count);
foreach (var pair in frequency)
{
if (pair.Value >= lines)
delimiters.Add (pair.Key);
}
// calculate
foreach (var key in delimiters)
{
var indicators = Indicators.CalculateByDelimiter (key, data, QuotedChar);
// Adjust based on the number of lines
if (lines < MinSampleData)
indicators.Deviation = indicators.Deviation * Math.Min (1, ((double)lines) / MinSampleData);
if (indicators.Avg > 1 &&
indicators.Deviation < MinDelimitedDeviation)
candidates.Add (new DelimiterInfo (key, indicators.Avg, indicators.Max, indicators.Min, indicators.Deviation));
}
return candidates;
}
#endregion
/// <summary>
/// Gets or sets the quoted char.
/// </summary>
/// <value>The quoted char.</value>
private char QuotedChar { get; set; }
#region " Statistics Functions "
/// <summary>
/// Collection of statistics about fields found
/// </summary>
private class Indicators
{
/// <summary>
/// Maximum number of fields found
/// </summary>
public int Max = int.MinValue;
/// <summary>
/// Mimumim number of fields found
/// </summary>
public int Min = int.MaxValue;
/// <summary>
/// Average number of delimiters foudn per line
/// </summary>
public double Avg = 0;
/// <summary>
/// Calculated deviation
/// </summary>
public double Deviation = 0;
/// <summary>
/// Total analysed lines
/// </summary>
public int Lines = 0;
private static double CalculateDeviation (IList<int> values, double avg)
{
double sum = 0;
for (int i = 0; i < values.Count; i++)
{
sum += Math.Pow (values[i] - avg, 2);
}
return Math.Sqrt (sum / values.Count);
}
private static int CountNumberOfDelimiters (string line, char delimiter)
{
int count = 0;
char c;
for (int i = 0; i < line.Length; i++)
{
c = line[i];
if (c == ' ' || char.IsLetterOrDigit (c))
continue;
count++;
}
return count;
}
public static Indicators CalculateByDelimiter (char delimiter, string[][] data, char? quotedChar)
{
var res = new Indicators ();
int totalDelimiters = 0;
int lines = 0;
List<int> delimiterPerLine = new List<int> (100);
foreach (var fileData in data)
{
foreach (var line in fileData)
{
if (string.IsNullOrEmpty (line))
continue;
lines++;
var delimiterInLine = 0;
if (quotedChar.HasValue)
delimiterInLine = QuoteHelper.CountNumberOfDelimiters (line, delimiter, quotedChar.Value);
else
delimiterInLine = CountNumberOfDelimiters (line, delimiter);
// add count for deviation analysis
delimiterPerLine.Add (delimiterInLine);
if (delimiterInLine > res.Max)
res.Max = delimiterInLine;
if (delimiterInLine < res.Min)
res.Min = delimiterInLine;
totalDelimiters += delimiterInLine;
}
}
res.Avg = totalDelimiters / (double)lines;
// calculate deviation
res.Deviation = CalculateDeviation (delimiterPerLine, res.Avg);
return res;
}
public static Indicators CalculateAsFixedSize (string[][] data)
{
var res = new Indicators ();
double sum = 0;
int lines = 0;
List<int> sizePerLine = new List<int> (100);
foreach (var fileData in data)
{
foreach (var line in fileData)
{
if (string.IsNullOrEmpty (line))
continue;
lines++;
sum += line.Length;
sizePerLine.Add (line.Length);
if (line.Length > res.Max)
res.Max = line.Length;
if (line.Length < res.Min)
res.Min = line.Length;
}
}
res.Avg = sum / (double)lines;
// calculate deviation
res.Deviation = CalculateDeviation (sizePerLine, res.Avg);
return res;
}
}
#endregion
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
#!/usr/bin/env python
# ***** BEGIN LICENSE BLOCK *****
# Version: MPL 1.1/GPL 2.0/LGPL 2.1
#
# The contents of this file are subject to the Mozilla Public License
# Version 1.1 (the "License"); you may not use this file except in
# compliance with the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
# http://www.mozilla.org/MPL/
#
# Software distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS"
# basis, WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, either express or implied. See the
# License for the specific language governing rights and limitations
# under the License.
#
# The Original Code is Komodo code.
#
# The Initial Developer of the Original Code is ActiveState Software Inc.
# Portions created by ActiveState Software Inc are Copyright (C) 2000-2007
# ActiveState Software Inc. All Rights Reserved.
#
# Contributor(s):
# ActiveState Software Inc
#
# Alternatively, the contents of this file may be used under the terms of
# either the GNU General Public License Version 2 or later (the "GPL"), or
# the GNU Lesser General Public License Version 2.1 or later (the "LGPL"),
# in which case the provisions of the GPL or the LGPL are applicable instead
# of those above. If you wish to allow use of your version of this file only
# under the terms of either the GPL or the LGPL, and not to allow others to
# use your version of this file under the terms of the MPL, indicate your
# decision by deleting the provisions above and replace them with the notice
# and other provisions required by the GPL or the LGPL. If you do not delete
# the provisions above, a recipient may use your version of this file under
# the terms of any one of the MPL, the GPL or the LGPL.
#
# ***** END LICENSE BLOCK *****
#
# Contributors:
# Eric Promislow ([email protected])
"""
perlcile - a Code Intelligence Language Engine for the Perl language
Module Usage:
from perlcile import scan_purelang
content = open("foo.pl", "r").read()
scan_purelang(content, "foo.pl")
Command-line Usage:
perlcile.py [<options>...] [<Perl file>]
Options:
-h, --help dump this help and exit
-V, --version dump this script's version and exit
-v, --verbose verbose output, use twice for more verbose output
-f, --filename <path> specify the filename of the file content
passed in on stdin, this is used for the "path"
attribute of the emitted <file> tag.
--md5=<string> md5 hash for the input
--mtime=<secs> modification time for output info, in #secs since
1/1/70.
-L, --language <name>
the language of the file being scanned
-c, --clock print timing info for scans (CIX is not printed)
One or more Perl files can be specified as arguments or content can be
passed in on stdin. A directory can also be specified, in which case
all .pl files in that directory are scanned.
This is a Language Engine for the Code Intelligence (codeintel) system.
Code Intelligence XML format. See:
http://specs.activestate.com/Komodo_3.0/func/code_intelligence.html
http://specs.tl.activestate.com/kd/kd-0100.html
The command-line interface will return non-zero iff the scan failed.
"""
import os
import os.path
import sys
import getopt
from hashlib import md5
import re
import logging
import glob
import time
import stat
from ciElementTree import Element, SubElement, tostring
from SilverCity import ScintillaConstants
from codeintel2 import perl_lexer, perl_parser, util
from codeintel2.tree import pretty_tree_from_tree
from codeintel2.common import CILEError
from codeintel2 import parser_cix
#---- global data
_version_ = (0, 1, 0)
log = logging.getLogger("perlcile")
# log.setLevel(logging.DEBUG)
_gClockIt = 0 # if true then we are gathering timing data
_gClock = None # if gathering timing data this is set to time retrieval fn
_gStartTime = None # start time of current file being scanned
gProvideFullDocs = False
#---- internal support
# This code has intimate knowledge of the code objects defined in
# perl_parser.py
def scan_purelang(buf):
content = buf.accessor.text.expandtabs(8)
tokenizer = perl_lexer.PerlLexer(content, gProvideFullDocs)
parser = perl_parser.Parser(tokenizer, provide_full_docs=gProvideFullDocs)
parser.moduleName = buf.path
parse_tree = parser.parse()
tree = parser.produce_CIX()
return tree
def scan_multilang(tokens, module_elem):
"""Build the Perl module CIX element tree.
"tokens" is a generator of UDL tokens for this UDL-based
multi-lang document.
"module_elem" is the <module> element of a CIX element tree on
which the Perl module should be built.
This should return a list of the CSL tokens in the token stream.
"""
tokenizer = perl_lexer.PerlMultiLangLexer(tokens)
# "PerlHTML" is about all we need for whichever Perl-based
# template language is being used. This could just as easily be a
# boolean that indicates whether we're processing a pure language
# or a multi-lang one.
parser = perl_parser.Parser(
tokenizer, lang="PerlHTML", provide_full_docs=gProvideFullDocs)
parser.moduleName = "" # Unknown
parser.parse()
parse_tree = parser.produce_CIX_NoHeader(module_elem)
csl_tokens = tokenizer.get_csl_tokens()
return csl_tokens, tokenizer.has_perl_code()
#---- mainline
def main(argv):
logging.basicConfig()
# Parse options.
try:
opts, args = getopt.getopt(argv[1:], "Vvhf:cL:",
["version", "verbose", "help", "filename=", "md5=", "mtime=",
"clock", "language="])
except getopt.GetoptError, ex:
log.error(str(ex))
log.error("Try `perlcile --help'.")
return 1
numVerboses = 0
stdinFilename = None
md5sum = None
mtime = None
lang = "Perl"
global _gClockIt
for opt, optarg in opts:
if opt in ("-h", "--help"):
sys.stdout.write(__doc__)
return
elif opt in ("-V", "--version"):
ver = '.'.join([str(part) for part in _version_])
print "perlcile %s" % ver
return
elif opt in ("-v", "--verbose"):
numVerboses += 1
if numVerboses == 1:
log.setLevel(logging.INFO)
else:
log.setLevel(logging.DEBUG)
elif opt in ("-f", "--filename"):
stdinFilename = optarg
elif opt in ("-L", "--language"):
lang = optarg
elif opt in ("--md5",):
md5sum = optarg
elif opt in ("--mtime",):
mtime = optarg
elif opt in ("-c", "--clock"):
_gClockIt = 1
global _gClock
if sys.platform.startswith("win"):
_gClock = time.clock
else:
_gClock = time.time
if len(args) == 0:
contentOnStdin = 1
filenames = [stdinFilename or "<stdin>"]
else:
contentOnStdin = 0
paths = []
for arg in args:
paths += glob.glob(arg)
filenames = []
for path in paths:
if os.path.isfile(path):
filenames.append(path)
elif os.path.isdir(path):
perlfiles = [os.path.join(path, n) for n in os.listdir(path)
if os.path.splitext(n)[1] in (".pl", ".pm")]
perlfiles = [f for f in perlfiles if os.path.isfile(f)]
filenames += perlfiles
if 1:
for filename in filenames:
if contentOnStdin:
log.debug("reading content from stdin")
content = sys.stdin.read()
log.debug("finished reading content from stdin")
if mtime is None:
mtime = int(time.time())
else:
if mtime is None:
mtime = int(os.stat(filename)[stat.ST_MTIME])
content = open(filename, 'r').read()
if _gClockIt:
sys.stdout.write("scanning '%s'..." % filename)
global _gStartTime
_gStartTime = _gClock()
data = scan(
content, filename, md5sum=md5sum, mtime=mtime, lang=lang)
if _gClockIt:
sys.stdout.write(" %.3fs\n" % (_gClock()-_gStartTime))
elif data:
sys.stdout.write(data)
try:
pass
except KeyboardInterrupt:
log.debug("user abort")
return 1
if __name__ == "__main__":
sys.exit(main(sys.argv))
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Natalie Merchant (album)
Natalie Merchant is the eponymous sixth studio album by American singer-songwriter Natalie Merchant, released on May 6, 2014 by Nonesuch Records. It is her first studio album consisting of all original material since "Motherland" (2001).
Passage 2:
Around Us Entertainment
Around Us Entertainment is a South Korean independent entertainment company established by Yoon Doo-joon, Yang Yo-seob, Yong Jun-hyung, Lee Gi-kwang, Son Dong-woon from boy group Highlight, formerly known as BEAST, after leaving their former label Cube Entertainment.
Passage 3:
Lee Gi-kwang
Lee Gi-kwang (Korean: 이기광 ; born March 30, 1990), known professionally as Gikwang or Kikwang, is a South Korean singer-songwriter and actor. He originally debuted as solo singer with the stage name AJ (Ace Junior), releasing his first mini album "First Episode: A New Hero" on April 4, 2009. In October 2009, he debuted as the main dancer, visual and a lead vocalist of boy group BEAST which had been renamed to Highlight in February 2017.
Passage 4:
Paradise Is There: The New Tigerlily Recordings
Paradise Is There: The New Tigerlily Recordings is the seventh solo studio album by American singer-songwriter Natalie Merchant, released on November 6, 2015 by Nonesuch Records. It is a collection of new recordings of the songs from Merchant's solo debut, "Tigerlily" (1995).
Passage 5:
Lee Gi-kwang discography
The discography of South Korean singer-songwriter and actor Lee Gi-kwang consists of two extended plays and three singles.
Passage 6:
Highlight (band)
Highlight (Korean: 하이라이트 ) is a South Korean boy band formerly known as Beast (Korean: 비스트). The band consists of five members: Yoon Doo-joon, Yong Jun-hyung, Yang Yo-seob, Lee Gi-kwang, and Son Dong-woon. Original member Jang Hyun-seung officially left the group in April 2016. Later that year, the five remaining members moved labels from Cube Entertainment to Around Us Entertainment and subsequently changed their name to Highlight in 2017.
Passage 7:
Natalie Merchant
Natalie Anne Merchant (born October 26, 1963) is an American singer-songwriter and musician. She joined the American alternative/folk rock band 10,000 Maniacs in 1981 and left it to begin her solo career in 1993. She has since released seven studio albums.
Passage 8:
Mrs. Cop
Mrs. Cop () is a 2015 South Korean drama series starring Kim Hee-ae, Kim Min-jong, Lee Da-hee, Son Ho-jun, Heo Jung-do and Lee Gi-kwang. It aired on SBS on Mondays and Tuesdays at 21:55 for 18 episodes beginning 3 August 2015.
Passage 9:
Circle (TV series)
Circle () is a South Korean television series starring Yeo Jin-goo, Kim Kang-woo, Gong Seung-yeon, , , Lee Gi-kwang and . It is scheduled to air on tvN every Mondays and Tuesdays at 23:00 (KST) starting May 22, 2017.
Passage 10:
Me Too, Flower!
Me Too, Flower! () is a 2011 South Korean television series, starring Lee Ji-ah and Yoon Shi-yoon in lead roles, and a supporting cast led by Han Go-eun, Seo Hyo-rim, Jo Min-ki, and Lee Gi-kwang. It aired on MBC from November 9 to December 28, 2011 on Wednesdays and Thursdays at 21:55 for 15 episodes.
Question: Which singer began as a solo artist, Lee Gi-kwang or Natalie Merchant?
Answer: Lee Gi-kwang
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
Passage 1:
No Limits (EP)
No Limits is the fifteenth extended play (and first of original material) recorded by Puerto Rican-American rock band Boyce Avenue. It was released to digital retailers April 22, 2014 through the band's independent label 3 Peace Records. In May 2014, "No Limits" entered the "Billboard" Heatseekers Albums chart at 14.
Passage 2:
Boyce Avenue
Boyce Avenue is an American rock band formed in Sarasota, Florida, by brothers Alejandro Luis Manzano, Daniel Enrique Manzano, and Fabian Rafael Manzano. The brothers attended Pine View School in Osprey, Florida. The band is named after a combination of two streets the brothers lived on as children. As of August 9, 2011, they are no longer signed to Universal Republic Records and have started their own independent record label called 3 Peace Records. Boyce Avenue releases original music as well as covers of contemporary and classic songs on YouTube. Boyce Avenue has also collaborated with other YouTube artists such as Hannah Trigwell, Kina Grannis, Tiffany Alvord, Megan Nicole, Alex Goot, Megan and Liz, David Choi, Tyler Ward, Savannah Outen, Cobus Potgieter, John Robby Deleon and DeStorm Power and "The X Factor" season two finalists Fifth Harmony, Bea Miller, Diamond White, Carly Rose Sonenclar, and also actress Sarah Hyland.
Passage 3:
3 Peace Records
3 Peace Records is an independent record label founded by Florida-based rock band Boyce Avenue. Founded in 2006 by the band members, they were approached by Universal Republic to partner in the release of the album. The band, impressed with Republic’s excitement about the music and the band’s wanting to remain extremely hands-on with their music, videos and websites, signed with Universal Republic in November 2009. The band’s major label debut album, "All We Have Left", released on June 15, 2010. However, on August 9, 2011, Boyce Avenue split with Universal Republic and returned to independent recording on 3 Peace. The label signed its second act, recording artist Hannah Trigwell, on October 14, 2012.
Passage 4:
Tam O'Shanter Inn
The Tam O'Shanter Inn is one of Los Angeles' oldest restaurants. Established in 1922, it serves hearty pub fare with a touch of Scottish flair, and is known for its prime rib and Yorkshire pudding. It is located in Atwater Village at 2980 Los Feliz Boulevard at the corner of Boyce Avenue. Walt Disney was a frequent patron there.
Passage 5:
List of songs recorded by Fifth Harmony
Fifth Harmony is an American four-piece girl group, consisting of members Ally Brooke, Normani Kordei, Dinah Jane, Lauren Jauregui and formerly Camila Cabello. The group began working on their debut EP, "Better Together". It was released in 2013, following their exit from the second season of the American televised singing competition, "The X Factor". At this time, the group contributed guest vocals on two covers, "When I Was Your Man" by Bruno Mars and "Mirrors" by Justin Timberlake, for Boyce Avenue's cover EP, "Cover Collaborations, Volume 2". The first single released from their debut EP, "Better Together", was "Miss Movin' On", a power pop song with a synth-backed chorus written by singer Julia Michaels among other writers. While the group had very limited songwriting credits in their EP, they are credited as writers on the promotional single, "Me & My Girls" with collaborations from Patrick James Bianco, Beau Alexandrè Dozier and John Ryan. Their EP was subsequently released four times with an acoustic version, a remixes EP, and two Spanish versions, one standard and one acoustic.
Passage 6:
All You're Meant to Be
All You're Meant to Be is the debut studio album released by Boyce Avenue on March 10, 2009.
Passage 7:
Savannah Outen
Savannah Outen (born October 14, 1992 in Hillsboro, Oregon) is an American singer who gained popularity on YouTube. Outen began posting videos of herself singing on YouTube in March 2007 along with Angelika Vee and Esmee Denters. In 2010 she collaborated with Boyce Avenue on their sixth acoustic album, New Acoustic Sessions. She appeared in the 85th Annual Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on November 24, 2011.
Passage 8:
Skillet (band)
Skillet is an American Christian rock band formed in Memphis, Tennessee in 1996. The band currently consists of husband John (lead vocals, bass) and wife Korey Cooper (rhythm guitar, keyboards, backing vocals) along with Jen Ledger (drums, vocals) and Seth Morrison (lead guitar). The band has released nine albums, two receiving Grammy nominations: "Collide" and "Comatose". Two of their albums, "Awake" and "Comatose", are certified Platinum by RIAA while "Rise", is certified Gold as of 12, 2016 .
Passage 9:
All We Have Left
All We Have Left is the second studio album and first major album by American rock band Boyce Avenue, released on June 15, 2010. The album's first single "Every Breath" was released digitally on March 16, 2010. The album reached No. 7 on Billboard Top Heatseekers chart in July 2010.
Passage 10:
Nick Howard
Nick Howard (born 24 April 1982, Brighton) is an English singer-songwriter who has released four studio albums since 2008 and played over 1000 shows across the world. His music has been featured on "Pretty Little Liars, Switched At Birth, The Hills, Jersey Shore, Next, True Life, Cougar Town, 90210, LA Ink, Greek" and "Army Wives". He has toured with Lifehouse, Boyce Avenue, Eric Hutchinson, Tristan Prettyman and supported Train (band), Gavin Degraw & Jack Johnson.
Question: Skillet and Boyce Avenue both specialize in what type of music?
Answer: rock
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
Passage 1:
I Love Lucy (film)
I Love Lucy, a.k.a. I Love Lucy: The Movie is a 1953 American feature film spin-off of the sitcom "I Love Lucy". Except for one test screening in Bakersfield, California, the film was never theatrically released and was shelved.
Passage 2:
DuBarry Was a Lady
Du Barry Was a Lady is a Broadway musical, with music and lyrics by Cole Porter, and the book by Herbert Fields and B.G. DeSylva. The musical starred Bert Lahr, Ethel Merman and Betty Grable, and the song "Friendship" was one of the highlights. The musical was made into a 1943 Technicolor film, "Du Barry Was a Lady", starring Red Skelton, Lucille Ball, and Gene Kelly.
Passage 3:
Moonlight and Pretzels
Moonlight and Pretzels is a 1933 American Pre-Code musical film directed by Karl Freund about a man who puts on a Broadway show. The film was released by Universal Studios, and featured Mary Brian and William Frawley, best known as "Fred Mertz" on "I Love Lucy"; Freund was a cinematographer for "I Love Lucy".
Passage 4:
Lucy and Ricky Ricardo
Lucy and Ricky Ricardo are fictional characters from the American television sitcom "I Love Lucy", portrayed respectively by Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz. The Ricardos also appear in "The Lucy–Desi Comedy Hour", and Lucy also appears in one episode of "The Ann Sothern Show".
Passage 5:
Richard Denning
Richard Denning (March 27, 1914 – October 11, 1998) was an American actor best known for starring in science fiction films of the 1950s, including "Unknown Island" (1948), "Creature from the Black Lagoon" (1954), "Target Earth" (1954), "Day the World Ended" (1955), "Creature with the Atom Brain" (1955), and "The Black Scorpion" (1957). Denning also appeared in the film "An Affair to Remember" (1957) with Cary Grant and on radio with Lucille Ball, as George and Liz Cooper, in "My Favorite Husband" (1948–1951), the forerunner of television's "I Love Lucy". His character's name on CBS Radio's "My Favorite Husband" was changed from George Cugat to George Cooper later in 1948. A television version of "My Favorite Husband" (1953-1955) was broadcast on CBS for two seasons during the tenure of "I Love Lucy".
Passage 6:
Ricky Ricardo Jr.
Enrique Alberto Ricardo IV, "Little Ricky," is a fictional character from the American television series "I Love Lucy" (1951–57, with Ricky Jr. becoming a part of the show as of his birth in 1953) and "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour" (1957–60). Little Ricky was played by a number of actors, including James John Ganzer, twins Richard and Ronald Lee Simmons, twins Michael and Joseph Mayer and, most notably, Keith Thibodeaux, billed as Little Ricky. Although the "I Love Lucy" announcer and the opening credits of "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour" gave his stage name as "Little Ricky", in his post-"Lucy" acting career, particularly his four-year irregular stint on "The Andy Griffith Show", he was billed as Richard Keith.
Passage 7:
Richard Keith (actor)
Keith Thibodeaux (born December 1, 1950) is a former American child actor of television and film and musician, best known for playing Little Ricky on the television sitcom's "I Love Lucy" and "The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour", his last name "Thibodeaux" which was Cajun French was changed by co-star Desi Arnaz, to "Keith" because his surname was more difficult to pronounce. He is the last living regular appearing cast member from "I Love Lucy".
Passage 8:
Desi Arnaz
Desiderio Alberto Arnaz y de Acha III (March 2, 1917 – December 2, 1986), better known as Desi Arnaz or Desi Arnaz, Sr., was a Cuban-born American actor, musician, and television producer. He is best remembered for his role as Ricky Ricardo on the American television series sitcom "I Love Lucy". He co-starred on that show with Lucille Ball, to whom he was married at the time. He and Ball are generally credited as the inventors of the syndicated rerun, which they pioneered with the "I Love Lucy" series.
Passage 9:
Sarah Key
Sarah Key is the author of six books in the Hollywood Hotplates series. They are: "The Wizard of Oz Cookbook", "The Casablanca Cookbook", "The Some Like it Hot Cookbook", and the "It's a Wonderful Life Cookbook", "A Christmas Carol Cookbook", and "The I Love Lucy Cookbook". The "I Love Lucy Cookbook" includes recipes from foods that appeared on the television show. Key collaborated with Jennifer Newman Brazil and Vicki Wells on "The Casablanca Cookbook: Wining and Dining at Rick's", in which the recipes are not necessarily featured in the movie, but are Moroccan in origin and "connected lightheartedly to the film."
Passage 10:
Lucille Ball
Lucille Désirée Ball (August 6, 1911 – April 26, 1989) was an American actress, comedienne, model, film-studio executive, and producer. She was best known as the star of the self-produced sitcoms "I Love Lucy", "The Lucy–Desi Comedy Hour", "The Lucy Show", "Here's Lucy", and "Life with Lucy".
Question: What star of "I Love Lucy" also starred in "DuBarry Was a Lady"?
Answer: Lucille Ball
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
/*
* Copyright 2016-2020 Stefan Kalscheuer
*
* Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License");
* you may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*/
package de.stklcode.jvault.connector;
import de.stklcode.jvault.connector.exception.InvalidRequestException;
import de.stklcode.jvault.connector.exception.VaultConnectorException;
import de.stklcode.jvault.connector.model.*;
import de.stklcode.jvault.connector.model.response.*;
import java.io.Serializable;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.HashMap;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.Map;
/**
* Vault Connector interface.
* Provides methods to connect with Vault backend and handle secrets.
*
* @author Stefan Kalscheuer
* @since 0.1
*/
public interface VaultConnector extends AutoCloseable, Serializable {
/**
* Default sub-path for Vault secrets.
*/
String PATH_SECRET = "secret";
/**
* Reset authorization information.
*/
void resetAuth();
/**
* Retrieve status of vault seal.
*
* @return Seal status
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
SealResponse sealStatus() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Seal vault.
*
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
void seal() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Unseal vault.
*
* @param key A single master share key
* @param reset Discard previously provided keys (optional)
* @return Response with seal status
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
SealResponse unseal(final String key, final Boolean reset) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Unseal vault.
*
* @param key A single master share key
* @return Response with seal status
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default SealResponse unseal(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
return unseal(key, null);
}
/**
* Query server health information.
*
* @return Health information.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.7.0
*/
HealthResponse getHealth() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Get all available authentication backends.
*
* @return List of backends
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
List<AuthBackend> getAuthBackends() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Authorize to Vault using token.
*
* @param token The token
* @return Token response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
TokenResponse authToken(final String token) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Authorize to Vault using username and password.
*
* @param username The username
* @param password The password
* @return Authorization result
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
AuthResponse authUserPass(final String username, final String password) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Authorize to Vault using AppID method.
*
* @param appID The App ID
* @param userID The User ID
* @return The {@link AuthResponse}
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @deprecated As of Vault 0.6.1 App-ID is superseded by AppRole. Consider using {@link #authAppRole} instead.
*/
@Deprecated
AuthResponse authAppId(final String appID, final String userID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Authorize to Vault using AppRole method without secret ID.
*
* @param roleID The role ID
* @return The {@link AuthResponse}
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default AuthResponse authAppRole(final String roleID) throws VaultConnectorException {
return authAppRole(roleID, null);
}
/**
* Authorize to Vault using AppRole method.
*
* @param roleID The role ID
* @param secretID The secret ID
* @return The {@link AuthResponse}
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
AuthResponse authAppRole(final String roleID, final String secretID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register new App-ID with policy.
*
* @param appID The unique App-ID
* @param policy The policy to associate with
* @param displayName Arbitrary name to display
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @deprecated As of Vault 0.6.1 App-ID is superseded by AppRole. Consider using {@link #createAppRole} instead.
*/
@Deprecated
boolean registerAppId(final String appID, final String policy, final String displayName)
throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register a new AppRole role from given metamodel.
*
* @param role The role
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
boolean createAppRole(final AppRole role) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register new AppRole role with default policy.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default boolean createAppRole(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRole(roleName, new ArrayList<>());
}
/**
* Register new AppRole role with policies.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param policies The policies to associate with
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default boolean createAppRole(final String roleName, final List<String> policies) throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRole(roleName, policies, null);
}
/**
* Register new AppRole role with default policy and custom ID.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param roleID A custom role ID
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default boolean createAppRole(final String roleName, final String roleID) throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRole(roleName, new ArrayList<>(), roleID);
}
/**
* Register new AppRole role with policies and custom ID.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param policies The policies to associate with
* @param roleID A custom role ID
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default boolean createAppRole(final String roleName, final List<String> policies, final String roleID)
throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRole(AppRole.builder(roleName).withTokenPolicies(policies).withId(roleID).build());
}
/**
* Delete AppRole role from Vault.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
boolean deleteAppRole(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Lookup an AppRole role.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return Result of the lookup
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
AppRoleResponse lookupAppRole(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Retrieve ID for an AppRole role.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return The role ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
String getAppRoleID(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Set custom ID for an AppRole role.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param roleID The role ID
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
boolean setAppRoleID(final String roleName, final String roleID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register new random generated AppRole secret.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return The secret ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default AppRoleSecretResponse createAppRoleSecret(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRoleSecret(roleName, new AppRoleSecret());
}
/**
* Register new AppRole secret with custom ID.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param secretID A custom secret ID
* @return The secret ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
default AppRoleSecretResponse createAppRoleSecret(final String roleName, final String secretID)
throws VaultConnectorException {
return createAppRoleSecret(roleName, new AppRoleSecret(secretID));
}
/**
* Register new AppRole secret with custom ID.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param secret The secret meta object
* @return The secret ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
AppRoleSecretResponse createAppRoleSecret(final String roleName, final AppRoleSecret secret)
throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Lookup an AppRole secret.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param secretID The secret ID
* @return Result of the lookup
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
AppRoleSecretResponse lookupAppRoleSecret(final String roleName, final String secretID)
throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Destroy an AppRole secret.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @param secretID The secret meta object
* @return The secret ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.4.0
*/
boolean destroyAppRoleSecret(final String roleName, final String secretID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* List existing (accessible) AppRole roles.
*
* @return List of roles
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
List<String> listAppRoles() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* List existing (accessible) secret IDs for AppRole role.
*
* @param roleName The role name
* @return List of roles
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
List<String> listAppRoleSecrets(final String roleName) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register User-ID with App-ID.
*
* @param appID The App-ID
* @param userID The User-ID
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @deprecated As of Vault 0.6.1 App-ID is superseded by AppRole.
* Consider using {@link #createAppRoleSecret} instead.
*/
@Deprecated
boolean registerUserId(final String appID, final String userID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Register new App-ID and User-ID at once.
*
* @param appID The App-ID
* @param policy The policy to associate with
* @param displayName Arbitrary name to display
* @param userID The User-ID
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @deprecated As of Vault 0.6.1 App-ID is superseded by AppRole.
*/
@Deprecated
default boolean registerAppUserId(final String appID,
final String policy,
final String displayName,
final String userID) throws VaultConnectorException {
return registerAppId(appID, policy, userID) && registerUserId(appID, userID);
}
/**
* Get authorization status.
*
* @return TRUE, if successfully authorized
*/
boolean isAuthorized();
/**
* Retrieve any nodes content from Vault.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Secret response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
SecretResponse read(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Retrieve secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to key.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Secret response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default SecretResponse readSecret(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
return read(PATH_SECRET + "/" + key);
}
/**
* Retrieve the latest secret data for specific version from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix "secret/data" is automatically added to key.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Secret response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default SecretResponse readSecretData(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readSecretVersion(key, null);
}
/**
* Retrieve the latest secret data for specific version from Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/data/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Secret response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default SecretResponse readSecretData(final String mount, final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readSecretVersion(mount, key, null);
}
/**
* Write secret to Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param key Secret identifier.
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @return Metadata for the created/updated secret.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default SecretVersionResponse writeSecretData(final String key, final Map<String, Object> data) throws VaultConnectorException {
return writeSecretData(PATH_SECRET, key, data, null);
}
/**
* Write secret to Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/data/<key>} is written here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @return Metadata for the created/updated secret.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default SecretVersionResponse writeSecretData(final String mount, final String key, final Map<String, Object> data) throws VaultConnectorException {
return writeSecretData(mount, key, data, null);
}
/**
* Write secret to Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/data/<key>} is written here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @param cas Use Check-And-Set operation, i.e. only allow writing if current version matches this value.
* @return Metadata for the created/updated secret.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
SecretVersionResponse writeSecretData(final String mount, final String key, final Map<String, Object> data, final Integer cas) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Retrieve secret data from Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/data/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param version Version to read. If {@code null} or zero, the latest version will be returned.
* @return Secret response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default SecretResponse readSecretVersion(final String key, final Integer version) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readSecretVersion(PATH_SECRET, key, version);
}
/**
* Retrieve secret data from Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/data/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param version Version to read. If {@code null} or zero, the latest version will be returned.
* @return Secret response.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
SecretResponse readSecretVersion(final String mount, final String key, final Integer version) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Retrieve secret metadata from Vault.
* Path {@code secret/metadata/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Metadata response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default MetadataResponse readSecretMetadata(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readSecretMetadata(PATH_SECRET, key);
}
/**
* Update secret metadata.
* <br>
* Path {@code secret/metadata/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param maxVersions Maximum number of versions (fallback to backend default if {@code null})
* @param casRequired Specify if Check-And-Set is required for this secret.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void updateSecretMetadata(final String key, final Integer maxVersions, final boolean casRequired) throws VaultConnectorException {
updateSecretMetadata(PATH_SECRET, key, maxVersions, casRequired);
}
/**
* Retrieve secret metadata from Vault.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/metadata/<key>} is read here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @return Metadata response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
MetadataResponse readSecretMetadata(final String mount, final String key) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Update secret metadata.
* <br>
* Path {@code <mount>/metadata/<key>} is written here.
* Only available for KV v2 secrets.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret identifier
* @param maxVersions Maximum number of versions (fallback to backend default if {@code null})
* @param casRequired Specify if Check-And-Set is required for this secret.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void updateSecretMetadata(final String mount, final String key, final Integer maxVersions, final boolean casRequired) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* List available nodes from Vault.
*
* @param path Root path to search
* @return List of secret keys
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
List<String> list(final String path) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* List available secrets from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
*
* @param path Root path to search
* @return List of secret keys
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default List<String> listSecrets(final String path) throws VaultConnectorException {
return list(PATH_SECRET + "/" + path);
}
/**
* Write simple value to Vault.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @param value Secret value
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default void write(final String key, final String value) throws VaultConnectorException {
Map<String, Object> param = new HashMap<>();
param.put("value", value);
write(key, param);
}
/**
* Write value to Vault.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default void write(final String key, final Map<String, Object> data) throws VaultConnectorException {
write(key, data, null);
}
/**
* Write value to Vault.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @param options Secret options (optional).
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8 {@code options} parameter added
*/
void write(final String key, final Map<String, Object> data, final Map<String, Object> options) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Write secret to Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @param value Secret value
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default void writeSecret(final String key, final String value) throws VaultConnectorException {
Map<String, Object> param = new HashMap<>();
param.put("value", value);
writeSecret(key, param);
}
/**
* Write secret to Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @param data Secret content. Value must be be JSON serializable.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default void writeSecret(final String key, final Map<String, Object> data) throws VaultConnectorException {
if (key == null || key.isEmpty()) {
throw new InvalidRequestException("Secret path must not be empty.");
}
write(PATH_SECRET + "/" + key, data);
}
/**
* Delete key from Vault.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
void delete(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Delete secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
*
* @param key Secret path
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default void deleteSecret(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
delete(PATH_SECRET + "/" + key);
}
/**
* Delete latest version of a secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path. Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param key Secret path.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void deleteLatestSecretVersion(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
deleteLatestSecretVersion(PATH_SECRET, key);
}
/**
* Delete latest version of a secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret path.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void deleteLatestSecretVersion(final String mount, final String key) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Delete latest version of a secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param key Secret path.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void deleteAllSecretVersions(final String key) throws VaultConnectorException {
deleteAllSecretVersions(PATH_SECRET, key);
}
/**
* Delete latest version of a secret from Vault.
* <br>
* Prefix {@code secret/} is automatically added to path.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret path.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void deleteAllSecretVersions(final String mount, final String key) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Delete secret versions from Vault.
* <br>
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to delete.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void deleteSecretVersions(final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException {
deleteSecretVersions(PATH_SECRET, key, versions);
}
/**
* Delete secret versions from Vault.
* <br>
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to delete.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void deleteSecretVersions(final String mount, final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Undelete (restore) secret versions from Vault.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to undelete.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void undeleteSecretVersions(final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException {
undeleteSecretVersions(PATH_SECRET, key, versions);
}
/**
* Undelete (restore) secret versions from Vault.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to undelete.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void undeleteSecretVersions(final String mount, final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Destroy secret versions from Vault.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to destroy.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
default void destroySecretVersions(final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException {
destroySecretVersions(PATH_SECRET, key, versions);
}
/**
* Destroy secret versions from Vault.
* Only available for KV v2 stores.
*
* @param mount Secret store mount point (without leading or trailing slash).
* @param key Secret path.
* @param versions Versions of the secret to destroy.
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.8
*/
void destroySecretVersions(final String mount, final String key, final int... versions) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Revoke given lease immediately.
*
* @param leaseID the lease ID
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
void revoke(final String leaseID) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Renew lease with given ID.
*
* @param leaseID the lase ID
* @return Renewed lease
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
default SecretResponse renew(final String leaseID) throws VaultConnectorException {
return renew(leaseID, null);
}
/**
* Renew lease with given ID.
*
* @param leaseID the lase ID
* @param increment number of seconds to extend lease time
* @return Renewed lease
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
SecretResponse renew(final String leaseID, final Integer increment) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Create a new token.
*
* @param token the token
* @return the result response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
AuthResponse createToken(final Token token) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Create a new token.
*
* @param token the token
* @param orphan create orphan token
* @return the result response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
AuthResponse createToken(final Token token, boolean orphan) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Create a new token for specific role.
*
* @param token the token
* @param role the role name
* @return the result response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
AuthResponse createToken(final Token token, final String role) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Lookup token information.
*
* @param token the token
* @return the result response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
*/
TokenResponse lookupToken(final String token) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Create a new or update an existing token role.
*
* @param role the role entity (name must be set)
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.9
*/
default boolean createOrUpdateTokenRole(final TokenRole role) throws VaultConnectorException {
return createOrUpdateTokenRole(role.getName(), role);
}
/**
* Create a new or update an existing token role.
*
* @param name the role name (overrides name possibly set in role entity)
* @param role the role entity
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.9
*/
boolean createOrUpdateTokenRole(final String name, final TokenRole role) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Lookup token information.
*
* @param name the role name
* @return the result response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.9
*/
TokenRoleResponse readTokenRole(final String name) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* List available token roles from Vault.
*
* @return List of token roles
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.9
*/
List<String> listTokenRoles() throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Delete a token role.
*
* @param name the role name to delete
* @return {@code true} on success
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.9
*/
boolean deleteTokenRole(final String name) throws VaultConnectorException;
/**
* Read credentials for MySQL backend at default mount point.
*
* @param role the role name
* @return the credentials response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default CredentialsResponse readMySqlCredentials(final String role) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readDbCredentials(role, "mysql");
}
/**
* Read credentials for PostgreSQL backend at default mount point.
*
* @param role the role name
* @return the credentials response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default CredentialsResponse readPostgreSqlCredentials(final String role) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readDbCredentials(role, "postgresql");
}
/**
* Read credentials for MSSQL backend at default mount point.
*
* @param role the role name
* @return the credentials response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default CredentialsResponse readMsSqlCredentials(final String role) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readDbCredentials(role, "mssql");
}
/**
* Read credentials for MSSQL backend at default mount point.
*
* @param role the role name
* @return the credentials response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default CredentialsResponse readMongoDbCredentials(final String role) throws VaultConnectorException {
return readDbCredentials(role, "mongodb");
}
/**
* Read credentials for SQL backends.
*
* @param role the role name
* @param mount mount point of the SQL backend
* @return the credentials response
* @throws VaultConnectorException on error
* @since 0.5.0
*/
default CredentialsResponse readDbCredentials(final String role, final String mount)
throws VaultConnectorException {
return (CredentialsResponse) read(mount + "/creds/" + role);
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: Information technology should enable government to better serve the American people. However, despite spending hundreds of billions on IT since 2000, the federal government has experienced failed IT projects and has achieved little of the productivity improvements that private industry has realized from IT. Too often, federal IT projects run over budget, behind schedule, or fail to deliver results. In combating this problem, proper oversight is critical. Both OMB and federal agencies have key roles and responsibilities for overseeing IT investment management, and OMB is responsible for working with agencies to ensure investments are appropriately planned and justified. However, as we have described in numerous reports, although a variety of best practices exist to guide their successful acquisition, federal IT projects too frequently incur cost overruns and schedule slippages while contributing little to mission-related outcomes. Agencies have reported that poor-performing projects have often used a “big bang” approach—that is, projects that are broadly scoped and aim to deliver capability several years after initiation. For example, in 2009 the Defense Science Board reported that the Department of Defense’s (Defense) acquisition process for IT systems was too long, ineffective, and did not accommodate the rapid evolution of IT. The board reported that the average time to deliver an initial program capability for a major IT system acquisition at Defense was over 7 years. Each year, OMB and federal agencies work together to determine how much the government plans to spend on IT projects and how these funds are to be allocated. As reported to OMB, federal agencies plan to spend more than $82 billion on IT investments in fiscal year 2014, which is the amount expended for not only acquiring such investments, but also the funding to operate and maintain them. Of the reported amount, 27 federal agencies plan to spend about $75 billion: $17 billion on development and acquisition and $58 billion on operations and maintenance (O&M). Figure 1 shows the percentages of total planned spending for 2014 for the $75 billion spent on development and O&M. However, this $75 billion does not reflect the spending of the entire federal government. We have previously reported that OMB’s figure understates the total amount spent in IT investments. Specifically, it does not include IT investments by 58 independent executive branch agencies, including the Central Intelligence Agency or by the legislative or judicial branches. Further, agencies differed on what they considered an IT investment; for example, some have considered research and development systems as IT investments, while others have not. As a result, not all IT investments are included in the federal government’s estimate of annual IT spending. OMB provided guidance to agencies on how to report on their IT investments, but this guidance did not ensure complete reporting or facilitate the identification of duplicative investments. Consequently, we recommended, among other things, that OMB improve its guidance to agencies on identifying and categorizing IT investments. In September 2011, we reported that the results of OMB initiatives to identify potentially duplicative investments were mixed and that several federal agencies did not routinely assess their entire IT portfolios to identify and remove or consolidate duplicative systems. In particular, we said that most of OMB’s recent initiatives had not yet demonstrated results, and several agencies did not routinely assess legacy systems to determine if they were duplicative. As a result, we recommended that OMB require federal agencies to report the steps they take to ensure that their IT investments are not duplicative as part of their annual budget and IT investment submissions. OMB generally agreed with this recommendation and has since taken action to implement it. Specifically, in March 2012, OMB issued a memorandum to federal agencies regarding its PortfolioStat initiative, which is discussed in more detail in the following section. Further, over the past several years, we have reported that overlap and fragmentation among government programs or activities could be harbingers of unnecessary duplication. Thus, the reduction or elimination of duplication, overlap, or fragmentation could potentially save billions of tax dollars annually and help agencies provide more efficient and effective services. OMB has implemented a series of initiatives to improve the oversight of underperforming investments, more effectively manage IT, and address duplicative investments. These efforts include the following: IT Dashboard. Given the importance of transparency, oversight, and management of the government’s IT investments, in June 2009, OMB established a public website, referred to as the IT Dashboard, that provides detailed information on 759 major IT investments at 27 federal agencies, including ratings of their performance against cost and schedule targets. The public dissemination of this information is intended to allow OMB; other oversight bodies, including Congress; and the general public to hold agencies accountable for results and performance. Among other things, agencies are to submit Chief Information Officer (CIO) ratings, which, according to OMB’s instructions, should reflect the level of risk facing an investment on a scale from 1 (high risk) to 5 (low risk) relative to that investment’s ability to accomplish its goals. Ultimately, CIO ratings are assigned colors for presentation on the Dashboard, according to the five-point rating scale, as illustrated in table 1. As of June 2014, according to the IT Dashboard, 183 of the federal government’s 759 major IT investments—totaling $10 billion—were in need of management attention (rated “yellow” to indicate the need for attention or “red” to indicate significant concerns). (See fig. 2.) TechStat reviews. In January 2010, the Federal CIO began leading TechStat sessions—face-to-face meetings to terminate or turnaround IT investments that are failing or are not producing results. These meetings involve OMB and agency leadership and are intended to increase accountability and transparency and improve performance. Subsequently, OMB empowered agency CIOs to hold their own TechStat sessions within their respective agencies. According to the former Federal CIO, the efforts of OMB and federal agencies to improve management and oversight of IT investments have resulted in almost $4 billion in savings. Federal Data Center Consolidation Initiative. Concerned about the growing number of federal data centers, in February 2010 the Federal CIO established the Federal Data Center Consolidation Initiative. This initiative’s four high-level goals are to promote the use of “green IT” by reducing the overall energy and real estate footprint of government data centers; reduce the cost of data center hardware, software, and operations; increase the overall IT security posture of the government; and shift IT investments to more efficient computing platforms and technologies. OMB believes that this initiative has the potential to provide about $3 billion in savings by the end of 2015. IT Reform Plan. In December 2010, OMB released its 25 point plan to reform federal IT. This document established an ambitious plan for achieving operational efficiencies and effectively managing large- scale IT programs. In particular, as part of an effort to reduce the risk associated with IT acquisitions, the plan calls for federal IT programs to deploy capabilities or functionality in release cycles no longer than 12 months, and ideally, less than 6 months. The plan also identifies key actions that can help agencies implement this incremental development guidance, such as working with Congress to develop IT budget models that align with incremental development and issuing contracting guidance and templates to support incremental development. PortfolioStat. In order to eliminate duplication, move to shared services, and improve portfolio management processes, in March 2012, OMB launched the PortfolioStat initiative. Specifically, PortfolioStat requires agencies to conduct an annual agency-wide IT portfolio review to, among other things, reduce commodity IT spending and demonstrate how their IT investments align with the agency’s mission and business functions. PortfolioStat is designed to assist agencies in assessing the current maturity of their IT investment management process, making decisions on eliminating duplicative investments, and moving to shared solutions in order to maximize the return on IT investments across the portfolio. OMB believes that the PortfolioStat effort has the potential to save the government $2.5 billion over the next 3 years by, for example, consolidating duplicative systems. Given the magnitude of the federal government’s annual IT budget, which is expected to be more than $82 billion in fiscal year 2014, it is important that agencies leverage all available opportunities to ensure that their IT investments are acquired in the most effective manner possible. To do so, agencies can rely on IT acquisition best practices, incremental development, and initiatives such as OMB’s IT Dashboard and OMB- mandated TechStat sessions. Additionally, agencies can save billions of dollars by continuing to consolidate federal data centers and by eliminating duplicative investments through OMB’s PortfolioStat initiative. Best Practices Are Intended to Help Ensure Successful Major Acquisitions In 2011, we identified seven successful acquisitions and nine common factors critical to their success and noted that (1) the factors support OMB’s objective of improving the management of large-scale IT acquisitions across the federal government and (2) wide dissemination of these factors could complement OMB’s efforts. Specifically, we reported that federal agency officials identified seven successful acquisitions, in that they best achieved their respective cost, schedule, scope, and performance goals. Notably, all of these were smaller increments, phases, or releases of larger projects. The common factors critical to the success of three or more of the seven acquisitions are generally consistent with those developed by private industry and are identified in table 2. These critical factors support OMB’s objective of improving the management of large-scale IT acquisitions across the federal government; wide dissemination of these factors could complement OMB’s efforts. IT Dashboard Can Improve the Transparency into and Oversight of Major IT Investments The IT Dashboard serves an important role in allowing OMB and other oversight bodies to hold agencies accountable for results and performance. However, we have issued a series of reports highlighting deficiencies with the accuracy and reliability of the data reported on the Dashboard. For example, we reported in October 2012 that Defense had not rated any of its investments as either high or moderately high risk and that, in selected cases, these ratings did not appropriately reflect significant cost, schedule, and performance issues reported by us and others. We recommended that Defense ensure that its CIO ratings reflect available investment performance assessments and its risk management guidance. Defense concurred and has revised its process to address these concerns. Further, while we reported in 2011 that the accuracy of Dashboard cost and schedule data had improved over time, more recently, in December 2013, we found that agencies had removed investments from the Dashboard by reclassifying their investments—representing a troubling trend toward decreased transparency and accountability. Specifically, the Department of Energy reclassified several of its supercomputer investments from IT to facilities and the Department of Commerce decided to reclassify its satellite ground system investments. Additionally, as of December 2013, the public version of the Dashboard was not updated for 15 of the previous 24 months because OMB does not revise it as the President’s budget request is being prepared. We also found that, while agencies experienced several issues with reporting the risk of their investments, such as technical problems and delayed updates to the Dashboard, the CIO ratings were mostly or completely consistent with investment risk at seven of the eight selected agencies. Additionally, the agencies had already addressed several of the discrepancies that we identified. The final agency, the Department of Veterans Affairs (VA), did not update 7 of its 10 selected investments because it elected to build, rather than buy, the ability to automatically update the Dashboard and has now resumed updating all investments. To their credit, agencies’ continued attention to reporting the risk of their major IT investments supports the Dashboard’s goal of providing transparency and oversight of federal IT investments. Nevertheless, the rating issues that we identified with performance reporting and annual baselining, some of which are now corrected, serve to highlight the need for agencies’ continued attention to the timeliness and accuracy of submitted information in order to allow the Dashboard to continue to fulfill its stated purpose. We recommended that agencies appropriately categorize IT investments and that OMB make Dashboard information available independent of the budget process. OMB neither agreed nor disagreed with these recommendations. Six agencies generally agreed with the report or had no comments and two others did not agree, believing their categorizations were appropriate. We continue to believe that our recommendations are valid. Agencies Need to Establish and Implement Incremental Development Policies to Better Achieve Cost, Schedule, and Performance Goals for IT Investments Incremental development can help agencies to effectively manage IT acquisitions and, as such, OMB has recently placed a renewed emphasis on it. In particular, in 2010 OMB called for IT investments to deliver functionality every 12 months, and since 2012 has required investments to deliver functionality every 6 months. However, as discussed in our recent report, most selected agencies had not effectively established and implemented incremental development approaches. Specifically, although all five agencies in our review—the Departments of Defense, Health and Human Services (HHS), Homeland Security (DHS), Transportation (Transportation), and VA—had established policies that address incremental development, the policies usually did not fully address three key components we identified for implementing OMB’s guidance. Table 3 provides an assessment of each agency’s policies against the three key components of an incremental development policy. Among other things, agencies cited the following reasons that contributed to these weaknesses: (1) OMB’s guidance was not feasible because not all types of investments should deliver functionality in 6 months and (2) the guidance did not identify what agencies’ policies are to include or time frames for completion. We agreed that these concerns have merit. Additionally, the weaknesses in agency policies enabled inconsistent implementation of incremental development approaches. Specifically, almost three-quarters of the selected investments we reviewed did not plan to deliver functionality every 6 months and less than half planned to deliver functionality in 12-month cycles. Table 4 shows how many of the selected investments at each agency planned on delivering functionality every 6 and 12 months during fiscal years 2013 and 2014. Considering agencies’ concerns about delivering functionality every 6 months and given that so few are planning to deliver functionality in that time frame, our report noted that delivering functionality every 12 months, consistent with OMB’s IT Reform Plan, would be an appropriate starting point and a substantial improvement. Until OMB issues realistic and clear guidance and agencies update their policies to reflect this guidance, agencies may not consistently adopt incremental development approaches, and IT expenditures will continue to produce disappointing results—including sizable cost overruns and schedule slippages and questionable progress in meeting mission goals and outcomes. We recommended that OMB develop and issue realistic and clear guidance on incremental development, and that Defense, HHS, DHS, and Transportation update and implement their incremental development policies, once OMB’s guidance is made available. OMB stated that it agreed with our recommendation to update and issue incremental development guidance, but did not agree that its current guidance is not realistic. However, slightly more than one-fourth of selected investments planned to deliver functionality every 6 months—and less than one-half planned to do so every 12 months. Additionally, there were three types of investments for which it may not always be practical or necessary to expect functionality to be delivered in 6-month cycles. Thus, we continued to believe that delivering functionality every 6 months is not an appropriate requirement for all agencies and that requiring the delivery of functionality every 12 months, consistent with OMB’s IT Reform Plan, is a more appropriate starting point. We therefore maintained that OMB should require projects associated with major IT investments to deliver functionality at least every 12 months. Four agencies—Defense, HHS, DHS, and VA—generally agreed with the report or had no comments and one agency—Transportation—did not agree that its recommendation should be dependent on OMB first taking action. Specifically, the department explained that relying on another agency to concur with one of our recommendations before Transportation can take action leaves the department with the potential challenge of a recommendation that cannot be implemented. However, as previously stated, OMB agreed with our recommendation to update and issue incremental guidance, meaning that OMB committed to taking the actions necessary to enable Transportation to begin addressing our recommendation. Accordingly, we continued to believe that our recommendations were warranted and can be implemented. TechStat Reviews Can Help Highlight and Evaluate Poorly Performing Investments TechStat reviews were initiated by OMB to enable the federal government to turnaround, halt, or terminate IT projects that are failing or are not producing results. In 2013, we reported that OMB and selected agencies had held multiple TechStats, but that additional OMB oversight was needed to ensure that these meetings were having the appropriate impact on underperforming projects and that resulting cost savings were valid. Specifically, we determined that, as of April 2013, OMB reported conducting 79 TechStats, which focused on 55 investments at 23 federal agencies. Further, four selected agencies—the Departments of Agriculture, Commerce, HHS, and DHS—conducted 37 TechStats covering 28 investments. About 70 percent of the OMB-led and 76 percent of agency-led TechStats on major investments were considered medium to high risk at the time of the TechStat. However, the number of at-risk TechStats held was relatively small compared to the current number of medium- and high-risk major IT investments. Specifically, the OMB-led TechStats represented roughly 18.5 percent of the investments across the government that had a medium- or high-risk CIO rating. For the four selected agencies, the number of TechStats represented about 33 percent of the investments that have a medium- or high-risk CIO rating. We concluded that, until OMB and agencies develop plans to address these weaknesses, the investments would likely remain at risk. In addition, we reported that OMB and selected agencies had tracked and reported positive results from TechStats, with most resulting in improved governance. Agencies also reported projects with accelerated delivery, reduced scope, or termination. We also found that OMB reported in 2011 that federal agencies achieved almost $4 billion in life-cycle cost savings as a result of TechStat sessions. However, we were unable to validate OMB’s reported results because OMB did not provide artifacts showing that it ensured the results were valid. Among other things, we recommended that OMB require agencies to report on how they validated the outcomes. OMB generally agreed with this recommendation. Continued Oversight Needed to Consolidate Federal Data Centers and Achieve Cost Savings In an effort to consolidate the growing number of federal data centers, in 2010, OMB launched a consolidation initiative intended to close 40 percent of government data centers by 2015, and, in doing so, save $3 billion. Since 2011, we have issued a series of reports on the efforts of agencies to consolidate their data centers. For example, in July 2011 and July 2012, we reported that agencies had developed plans to consolidate data centers; however, these plans were incomplete and did not include best practices. In addition, although we reported that agencies had made progress on their data center closures, OMB had not determined initiative-wide cost savings, and oversight of the initiative was not being performed in all key areas. Among other things, we recommended that OMB track and report on key performance measures, such as cost savings to date, and improve the execution of important oversight responsibilities. We also recommended that agencies complete inventories and plans. OMB agreed with these two recommendations, and most agencies agreed with our recommendations to them. Additionally, as part of ongoing follow-up work, we have determined that while agencies had closed data centers, the number of federal data centers was significantly higher than previously estimated by OMB. Specifically, as of May 2013, agencies had reported closing 484 data centers by the end of April 2013 and were planning to close an additional 571 data centers—for a total of 1,055—by September 2014. However, as of July 2013, 22 of the 24 agencies participating in the initiative had collectively reported 6,836 data centers in their inventories— approximately 3,700 data centers more than OMB’s previous estimate from December 2011. This dramatic increase in the count of data centers highlights the need for continued oversight of agencies’ consolidation efforts. We have ongoing work looking at OMB’s data center consolidation initiative, including evaluating the extent to which agencies have achieved planned cost savings through their consolidation efforts, identifying agencies’ notable consolidation successes and challenges in achieving cost savings, and evaluating the extent to which data center optimization metrics have been established. Agencies’ PortfolioStat Efforts Have the Potential to Save Billions of Dollars OMB launched the PortfolioStat initiative in March 2012, which required 26 executive agencies to, among other things, reduce commodity IT spending and demonstrate how their IT investments align with the agencies’ mission and business functions. In March 2013, OMB issued a memorandum commencing the second iteration of its PortfolioStat initiative and strengthening IT portfolio management. In November 2013, we reported on agencies’ efforts to complete key required PortfolioStat actions and make portfolio improvements. We noted that all 26 agencies that were required to implement the PortfolioStat initiative took actions to address OMB’s requirements. However, there were shortcomings in their implementation of selected requirements, such as addressing all required elements of an action plan to consolidate commodity IT and migrating two commodity areas to a shared service by the end of 2012. Further, we found that several agencies had weaknesses in selected areas, such as the CIO’s authority to review and approve the entire portfolio. While OMB had issued guidance and required agencies to report on actions taken to implement CIO authorities, it was not sufficient to address the issue. For example, although HHS reported having a formal memo in place outlining the CIO’s authority and ability to review the entire IT portfolio, it also noted that the CIO had limited influence and ability to recommend changes to it. Similarly, the Office of Personnel Management reported that the CIO advises the Director, who approves the IT portfolio, but this role was not explicitly defined. As a result of OMB’s insufficient guidance, agencies were hindered in addressing certain responsibilities set out in the Clinger- Cohen Act of 1996, which established the position of CIO to advise and assist agency heads in managing IT investments. We also observed that OMB’s estimate of about 100 consolidation opportunities and a potential $2.5 billion in savings from the PortfolioStat initiative was understated because, among other things, it did not include estimates from Defense and the Department of Justice. Our analysis, which included these estimates, showed that collectively the 26 agencies reported about 200 opportunities and at least $5.8 billion in potential savings through fiscal year 2015—at least $3.3 billion more than the number initially reported by OMB. We made more than 50 recommendations to improve agencies’ implementation of PortfolioStat requirements. We also recommended that OMB require agencies to fully disclose limitations with respect to CIO authority. OMB partially agreed with our recommendations, and responses from 20 of the agencies commenting on the report varied. Last month, we also reported on OMB’s and agencies’ policies and management of software licenses—one PortfolioStat focus area. We found that OMB’s PortfolioStat policy did not guide agencies in developing comprehensive license management policies, and of the 24 major federal agencies, 2 had comprehensive policies for managing enterprise software license agreements; 18 had them but they were not comprehensive; and 4 had not developed any. The weaknesses in agencies’ policies were due, in part, to the lack of a priority for establishing software license management practices—such as whether agencies’ employed a centralized approach to software license management and established a comprehensive inventory of the software licenses—and a lack of direction from OMB. Table 5 lists the leading practices and the number of agencies that had fully, partially, or not implemented them. Additionally, the inadequate implementation of leading practices in software license management, such as centralized management and a comprehensive inventory, was partially due to weaknesses in agencies’ policies. As a result, we noted that agencies’ oversight of software license spending was limited or lacking, and they may miss out on savings. The potential savings could be significant considering that, in fiscal year 2012, DHS reported saving approximately $181 million by consolidating its enterprise license agreements. We also stated that agencies lacked comprehensive software license inventories that were regularly tracked and maintained. Of the 24 agencies, 2 had a comprehensive inventory of software licenses; 20 had some form of an inventory; and 2 did not have any inventory of their software licenses purchased. We recommended that OMB issue a directive to help guide agencies in managing licenses and made more than 130 recommendations to the 24 agencies to improve their policies and practices for managing licenses. OMB disagreed with the need for a directive. However, until this gap in guidance is addressed, agencies will likely continue to lack the visibility into what needs to be managed, and be unable to take full advantage of OMB’s tools to drive license efficiency and utilization. Most agencies generally agreed with the recommendations or had no comments. We have ongoing work looking at the second iteration of OMB’s PortfolioStat initiative, including identifying action items and associated time frames from joint OMB-agency PortfolioStat meetings, determining agencies’ progress in addressing these action items, and evaluating the extent to which agencies have realized planned savings. In summary, OMB’s and agencies’ recent efforts have resulted in greater transparency and oversight of federal spending, but continued leadership and attention are necessary to build on the progress that has been made. The expanded use of the common factors critical to the successful management of large-scale IT acquisitions should result in more effective delivery of mission-critical systems. Additionally, federal agencies need to continue to improve the accuracy and availability of information on the Dashboard to provide greater transparency and even more attention to the billions of dollars invested in troubled projects. Further, agencies need to implement incremental development approaches in order to increase the likelihood that major IT investments meet their cost, schedule, and performance goals. Additionally, agencies should conduct additional TechStat reviews to focus management attention on troubled projects and establish clear action items to turn the projects around or terminate them. The federal government can also build on the progress of agencies’ data center closures and eliminating duplicative IT investments. With the possibility of over $5.8 billion in savings from the data center consolidation and PortfolioStat initiatives, agencies should continue to identify consolidation opportunities in both data centers and commodity IT. In addition, better support for the estimates of cost savings associated with the opportunities identified would increase the likelihood that these savings will be achieved. Finally, until OMB and the agencies focus on improving policies and processes governing software licenses, they will likely miss opportunities to reduce costs. Chairman Tester, Ranking Member Portman, and Members of the Subcommittee, this completes my prepared statement. I would be pleased to respond to any questions that you may have at this time. If you or your staffs have any questions about this testimony, please contact me at (202) 512-9286 or at [email protected]. Individuals who made key contributions to this testimony are Dave Hinchman (Assistant Director), Rebecca Eyler, and Kevin Walsh. This is a work of the U.S. government and is not subject to copyright protection in the United States. The published product may be reproduced and distributed in its entirety without further permission from GAO. However, because this work may contain copyrighted images or other material, permission from the copyright holder may be necessary if you wish to reproduce this material separately.
Summary: The federal government reportedly plans to spend at least $82 billion on IT in fiscal year 2014. Given the scale of such planned outlays and the criticality of many of these systems to the health, economy, and security of the nation, it is important that OMB and federal agencies provide appropriate oversight and transparency into these programs and avoid duplicative investments, whenever possible, to ensure the most efficient use of resources. GAO has previously reported and testified that federal IT projects too frequently fail and incur cost overruns and schedule slippages while contributing little to mission-related outcomes. Numerous best practices and administration initiatives are available for agencies that can help them improve the oversight and management of IT investments. GAO is testifying today on the results and recommendations from selected reports that focused on how federal IT reform efforts could be improved by more effective IT acquisition and more efficient management of existing IT systems. GAO has issued a number of reports on the federal government's efforts to efficiently acquire and manage information technology (IT). While the Office of Management and Budget (OMB) and agencies have taken steps to improve federal IT through a number of initiatives, additional actions are needed. For example, OMB's IT Dashboard provides information, including ratings of risk, on 759 major investments at 27 federal agencies. As of June 2014, according to the Dashboard, 576 investments were low or moderately low risk, 147 were medium risk, and 36 were moderately high or high risk. GAO has issued a series of reports on Dashboard accuracy and identified issues with the accuracy and reliability of cost and schedule data. Furthermore, a recent GAO report found that agencies had removed major investments from the Dashboard, representing a troubling trend toward decreased transparency. GAO also reported that, as of December 2013, the public version of the Dashboard was not updated for 15 of the previous 24 months. GAO made recommendations to ensure that the Dashboard includes all major IT investments and to increase its availability. Agencies generally agreed with the report or had no comments. An additional key reform initiated by OMB emphasizes incremental development in order to reduce investment risk. In 2010 it called for agency investments to deliver functionality every 12 months and since 2012 has required investments to deliver functionality every 6 months. However, GAO recently reported that almost three-quarters of investments reviewed did not plan to deliver capabilities every 6 months and less than half planned to deliver capabilities in 12-month cycles. GAO recommended that OMB develop and issue clearer guidance on incremental development and that selected agencies update and implement their associated policies. Most agencies agreed with GAO recommendations or had no comment. GAO continued to believe that its recommendations were valid. To better manage existing IT systems, OMB launched the PortfolioStat initiative, which, among other things, requires agencies to conduct annual reviews of their IT portfolio and make decisions on eliminating duplication. GAO reported that agencies continued to identify duplicative spending as part of PortfolioStat and that this initiative had the potential to save at least $5.8 billion through fiscal year 2015, but that weaknesses existed in agencies' implementation of the initiative, such as limitations in the Chief Information Officer's authority. Among other things, GAO made several recommendations to improve agencies' implementation of PortfolioStat requirements. OMB partially agreed with GAO's recommendations and responses from 20 of the agencies varied. GAO also recently reported on software license management—one PortfolioStat focus area—and determined that better management was needed to achieve significant savings government-wide. In particular, 22 of the 24 major federal agencies did not have comprehensive license policies. GAO recommended that OMB issue needed guidance to agencies and made more than 130 recommendations to the agencies to improve their policies and practices for managing licenses.OMB disagreed with the need for guidance. However, without it the management of agencies' licenses may be weakened. Most agencies generally agreed with the recommendations or had no comments. GAO has previously made numerous recommendations to OMB and federal agencies on key aspects of IT management, including the IT Dashboard, incremental development approaches, and PortfolioStat implementation, including software license management.
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Passage 1:
Harry Winks
Harry Billy Winks (born 2 February 1996) is an English professional footballer who plays as a midfielder for the Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur.
Passage 2:
Josh Onomah
Joshua Oghenetega Peter Onomah (born 27 April 1997) is an English professional footballer who plays as a midfielder for Aston Villa on loan from Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur. Onomah has been a regular youth international for England, including winning the 2017 FIFA U-20 World Cup and the 2014 UEFA European Under-17 Football Championship.
Passage 3:
Shayon Harrison
Shayon Adam Harrison (born 13 July 1997) is an English professional footballer who plays as a forward for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur.
Passage 4:
Nike Hypervenom
The "Nike Hypervenom" is a football boot that is manufactured by Nike. This type of boot is said to be for traction and agility, designed for deceptive players. Therefore, it is endorsed/worn by players, notably forwards, such as Marcus Rashford, Kylian Mbappé, Robert Lewandowski, Gonzalo Higuaín, Mauro Icardi, Harry Kane, Edinson Cavani, Riyad Mahrez, Romelu Lukaku, Cian Brennan Aubameyang and Thiago.
Passage 5:
Kieran Trippier
Kieran John Trippier (born 19 September 1990) is an English professional footballer who plays as a right back for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team.
Passage 6:
Harry Kane
Harry Edward Kane (born 28 July 1993) is an English professional footballer who plays as a forward for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team.
Passage 7:
Danny Rose (footballer, born 1990)
Daniel Lee Rose (born 2 July 1990) is an English professional footballer who plays as a left back for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team.
Passage 8:
Eric Dier
Eric Jeremy Edgar Dier (born 15 January 1994) is an English professional footballer who plays for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team. A versatile defensive player, Dier has been deployed as a defensive midfielder, a centre-back and a right-back.
Passage 9:
Son Heung-min
Son Heung-min (Hangul: 손흥민 ; Hanja: 孫興慜 ; ] ; born 8 July 1992) is a South Korean professional footballer who plays as a winger or a forward for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the South Korea national team.
Passage 10:
Dele Alli
Bamidele Jermaine Alli (born 11 April 1996) is an English professional footballer who plays as a midfielder for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team.
Question: The "Nike Hypervenom" is a football boot that is manufactured by Nike, it is endorsed/worn by players, notably Harry Edward Kane, an English professional footballer who plays as a forward for Premier League club Tottenham Hotspur and the England national team, born in what year?
Answer: 1993
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Passage 1:
2001 Special Olympics World Winter Games
2001 Special Olympics World Winter Games was the 7th edition of the Winter Special Olympics World Games.It is a multi-sporting event that was held from March 4 2001 to March 11 2001.It was hosted by Anchorage, Alaska which is the State of United States.
Passage 2:
Special Olympics World Games
The Special Olympics World Games are an international sporting competition for athletes with intellectual disabilities, organized by the IOC-recognised Special Olympics organisation.
Passage 3:
ID sports in Cameroon
ID sports in Cameroon are played in the country by people with intellectual disabilities. These sports are governed by Cameroonian Federation of Sports the Intellectually Disabled (FECASDI) and Special Olympics Cameroon. People with intellectual disabilities in Cameroon lack the same access to educational opportunities as people with other disability types in Cameroon. Development for sporting opportunities for them began in 1995, when Special Olympics came to Cameroon. Since then, other development activities have taken place, focusing on ID football and ID sport in general. Funding for ID sports is often limited.
Passage 4:
Mary Davis (activist)
Mary Davis ("née" Rooney; born 6 August 1954) is an Irish social entrepreneur and long-term campaigner for the rights and inclusion of children and adults with intellectual disabilities. She is the Chief Executive Officer of Special Olympics International. Previously, she served as Managing Director and Regional President of Special Olympics Europe/Eurasia (SOEE) with the responsibility of overseeing the growth and development of Special Olympics across 58 countries in Western Europe, Eastern Europe and Central Asia. Davis also served as Chairperson of Special Olympics Ireland.
Passage 5:
Intellectual disability sport classification
Intellectual disability sport classification is a classification system used for disability sport that allows people with intellectual disabilities to fairly compete with and against other people with intellectual disabilities. Separate classification systems exist for the elite athlete with a disability side affiliated with the Paralympic movement and International Sports Federation for Persons with Intellectual Disability (INAS), and the sports for all model affiliated with Special Olympics. People with intellectual disabilities have issues with conceptual skills, social skills and practical skills. They have IQs lower than 75 points and their disability manifested and was documented prior to turning 18 years of age.
Passage 6:
Special Olympics USA
Special Olympics USA is a sports organization for children and adults with intellectual disabilities in the United States. It is part of the global Special Olympics movement. The Special Olympics was founded in 1968 with the main goal to accept and welcome individuals as they are. The Special Olympics provides year-round training in Olympic based sports and is based in 170 countries.
Passage 7:
Special Olympics Bharat
Special Olympics Bharat is an officially recognised programme of Special Olympics International which operates in India. It was founded in 1987 as Special Olympics India , and changed its name to Special Olympics Bharat in 2001. it is recognized by the government of India as a National Sports Federation for the development of sports opportunity for the people with intellectual disabilities. The special Olympics Bharat programme has so far drawn a number of coaches to work with 850875 athletes across the country.
Passage 8:
2019 Special Olympics World Summer Games
The 2019 Special Olympics World Summer Games are a multi-sport event for athletes with intellectual disabilities in the tradition of the Special Olympics movement. They will be held in Abu Dhabi, United Arab Emirates From March 14–21, 2019.
Passage 9:
2015 Special Olympics World Summer Games
The 2015 Special Olympics World Summer Games were a multi-sport event for athletes with intellectual disabilities held in Los Angeles, United States from July 25 to August 2, 2015, in the tradition of the Special Olympics movement.
Passage 10:
Special Olympics Great Britain
Special Olympics Great Britain is a sporting organisation for children and adults with intellectual disabilities that operates in England, Scotland and Wales. It is part of the global Special Olympics movement.
Question: Who hosted the 7th edition of the nternational sporting competition for athletes with intellectual disabilities, organized by the IOC-recognised Special Olympics organisation?
Answer: Anchorage, Alaska
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Soul of a Bishop, by H. G. Wells
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Soul of a Bishop
Author: H. G. Wells
Release Date: February 18, 2006 [EBook #1269]
Language: English
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SOUL OF A BISHOP ***
Produced by An Anonymous Volunteer and David Widger
THE SOUL OF A BISHOP
By H. G. Wells
CONTENTS
CHAPTER THE FIRST - THE DREAM
CHAPTER THE SECOND - THE WEAR AND TEAR OF EPISCOPACY
CHAPTER THE THIRD - INSOMNIA
CHAPTER THE FOURTH - THE SYMPATHY OF LADY SUNDERBUND
CHAPTER THE FIFTH - THE FIRST VISION
CHAPTER THE SIXTH - EXEGETICAL
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH - THE SECOND VISION
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH - THE NEW WORLD
CHAPTER THE NINTH - THE THIRD VISION
"Man's true Environment is God"
J. H. OLDHAM in "The Christian Gospel" (Tract of the N. M. R. and H.)
THE SOUL OF A BISHOP
CHAPTER THE FIRST - THE DREAM
(1)
IT was a scene of bitter disputation. A hawk-nosed young man with a
pointing finger was prominent. His face worked violently, his lips moved
very rapidly, but what he said was inaudible.
Behind him the little rufous man with the big eyes twitched at his robe
and offered suggestions.
And behind these two clustered a great multitude of heated, excited,
swarthy faces....
The emperor sat on his golden throne in the midst of the gathering,
commanding silence by gestures, speaking inaudibly to them in a tongue
the majority did not use, and then prevailing. They ceased their
interruptions, and the old man, Arius, took up the debate. For a time
all those impassioned faces were intent upon him; they listened as
though they sought occasion, and suddenly as if by a preconcerted
arrangement they were all thrusting their fingers into their ears and
knitting their brows in assumed horror; some were crying aloud and
making as if to fly. Some indeed tucked up their garments and fled. They
spread out into a pattern. They were like the little monks who run from
St. Jerome's lion in the picture by Carpaccio. Then one zealot rushed
forward and smote the old man heavily upon the mouth....
The hall seemed to grow vaster and vaster, the disputing, infuriated
figures multiplied to an innumerable assembly, they drove about like
snowflakes in a gale, they whirled in argumentative couples, they spun
in eddies of contradiction, they made extraordinary patterns, and then
amidst the cloudy darkness of the unfathomable dome above them there
appeared and increased a radiant triangle in which shone an eye. The eye
and the triangle filled the heavens, sent out flickering rays, glowed
to a blinding incandescence, seemed to be speaking words of thunder
that were nevertheless inaudible. It was as if that thunder filled the
heavens, it was as if it were nothing but the beating artery in the
sleeper's ear. The attention strained to hear and comprehend, and on the
very verge of comprehension snapped like a fiddle-string.
"Nicoea!"
The word remained like a little ash after a flare.
The sleeper had awakened and lay very still, oppressed by a sense of
intellectual effort that had survived the dream in which it had arisen.
Was it so that things had happened? The slumber-shadowed mind, moving
obscurely, could not determine whether it was so or not. Had they indeed
behaved in this manner when the great mystery was established? Who
said they stopped their ears with their fingers and fled, shouting with
horror? Shouting? Was it Eusebius or Athanasius? Or Sozomen.... Some
letter or apology by Athanasius?... And surely it was impossible that
the Trinity could have appeared visibly as a triangle and an eye. Above
such an assembly.
That was mere dreaming, of course. Was it dreaming after Raphael? After
Raphael? The drowsy mind wandered into a side issue. Was the picture
that had suggested this dream the one in the Vatican where all the
Fathers of the Church are shown disputing together? But there surely God
and the Son themselves were painted with a symbol--some symbol--also?
But was that disputation about the Trinity at all? Wasn't it rather
about a chalice and a dove? Of course it was a chalice and a dove! Then
where did one see the triangle and the eye? And men disputing? Some such
picture there was....
What a lot of disputing there had been! What endless disputing! Which
had gone on. Until last night. When this very disagreeable young man
with the hawk nose and the pointing finger had tackled one when one was
sorely fagged, and disputed; disputed. Rebuked and disputed. "Answer me
this," he had said.... And still one's poor brains disputed and would
not rest.... About the Trinity....
The brain upon the pillow was now wearily awake. It was at once
hopelessly awake and active and hopelessly unprogressive. It was like
some floating stick that had got caught in an eddy in a river, going
round and round and round. And round. Eternally--eternally--eternally
begotten.
"But what possible meaning do you attach then to such a phrase as
eternally begotten?"
The brain upon the pillow stared hopelessly at this question, without an
answer, without an escape. The three repetitions spun round and round,
became a swiftly revolving triangle, like some electric sign that
had got beyond control, in the midst of which stared an unwinking and
resentful eye.
(2)
Every one knows that expedient of the sleepless, the counting of sheep.
You lie quite still, you breathe regularly, you imagine sheep jumping
over a gate, one after another, you count them quietly and slowly until
you count yourself off through a fading string of phantom numbers to
number Nod....
But sheep, alas! suggest an episcopal crook.
And presently a black sheep had got into the succession and was
struggling violently with the crook about its leg, a hawk-nosed black
sheep full of reproof, with disordered hair and a pointing finger. A
young man with a most disagreeable voice.
At which the other sheep took heart and, deserting the numbered
succession, came and sat about the fire in a big drawing-room and argued
also. In particular there was Lady Sunderbund, a pretty fragile tall
woman in the corner, richly jewelled, who sat with her pretty eyes
watching and her lips compressed. What had she thought of it? She had
said very little.
It is an unusual thing for a mixed gathering of this sort to argue about
the Trinity. Simply because a tired bishop had fallen into their party.
It was not fair to him to pretend that the atmosphere was a liberal and
inquiring one, when the young man who had sat still and dormant by the
table was in reality a keen and bitter Irish Roman Catholic. Then the
question, a question-begging question, was put quite suddenly, without
preparation or prelude, by surprise. "Why, Bishop, was the Spermaticos
Logos identified with the Second and not the Third Person of the
Trinity?"
It was indiscreet, it was silly, to turn upon the speaker and affect an
air of disengagement and modernity and to say: "Ah, that indeed is the
unfortunate aspect of the whole affair."
Whereupon the fierce young man had exploded with: "To that, is it, that
you Anglicans have come?"
The whole gathering had given itself up to the disputation, Lady
Sunderbund, an actress, a dancer--though she, it is true, did not say
very much--a novelist, a mechanical expert of some sort, a railway peer,
geniuses, hairy and Celtic, people of no clearly definable position,
but all quite unequal to the task of maintaining that air of reverent
vagueness, that tenderness of touch, which is by all Anglican standards
imperative in so deep, so mysterious, and, nowadays, in mixed society at
least, so infrequent a discussion.
It was like animals breaking down a fence about some sacred spot. Within
a couple of minutes the affair had become highly improper. They had
raised their voices, they had spoken with the utmost familiarity of
almost unspeakable things. There had been even attempts at epigram.
Athanasian epigrams. Bent the novelist had doubted if originally there
had been a Third Person in the Trinity at all. He suggested a reaction
from a too-Manichaean dualism at some date after the time of St. John's
Gospel. He maintained obstinately that that Gospel was dualistic.
The unpleasant quality of the talk was far more manifest in the
retrospect than it had been at the time. It had seemed then bold
and strange, but not impossible; now in the cold darkness it seemed
sacrilegious. And the bishop's share, which was indeed only the weak
yielding of a tired man to an atmosphere he had misjudged, became a
disgraceful display of levity and bad faith. They had baited him.
Some one had said that nowadays every one was an Arian, knowingly or
unknowingly. They had not concealed their conviction that the bishop did
not really believe in the Creeds he uttered.
And that unfortunate first admission stuck terribly in his throat.
Oh! Why had he made it?
(3)
Sleep had gone.
The awakened sleeper groaned, sat up in the darkness, and felt gropingly
in this unaccustomed bed and bedroom first for the edge of the bed and
then for the electric light that was possibly on the little bedside
table.
The searching hand touched something. A water-bottle. The hand resumed
its exploration. Here was something metallic and smooth, a stem. Either
above or below there must be a switch....
The switch was found, grasped, and turned.
The darkness fled.
In a mirror the sleeper saw the reflection of his face and a corner
of the bed in which he lay. The lamp had a tilted shade that threw
a slanting bar of shadow across the field of reflection, lighting a
right-angled triangle very brightly and leaving the rest obscure. The
bed was a very great one, a bed for the Anakim. It had a canopy with
yellow silk curtains, surmounted by a gilded crown of carved wood.
Between the curtains was a man's face, clean-shaven, pale, with
disordered brown hair and weary, pale-blue eyes. He was clad in purple
pyjamas, and the hand that now ran its fingers through the brown hair
was long and lean and shapely.
Beside the bed was a convenient little table bearing the light, a
water-bottle and glass, a bunch of keys, a congested pocket-book, a
gold-banded fountain pen, and a gold watch that indicated a quarter past
three. On the lower edge of the picture in the mirror appeared the back
of a gilt chair, over which a garment of peculiar construction had been
carelessly thrown. It was in the form of that sleeveless cassock of
purple, opening at the side, whose lower flap is called a bishop's
apron; the corner of the frogged coat showed behind the chair-back, and
the sash lay crumpled on the floor. Black doeskin breeches, still warmly
lined with their pants, lay where they had been thrust off at the corner
of the bed, partly covering black hose and silver-buckled shoes.
For a moment the tired gaze of the man in the bed rested upon these
evidences of his episcopal dignity. Then he turned from them to the
watch at the bedside.
He groaned helplessly.
(4)
These country doctors were no good. There wasn't a physician in the
diocese. He must go to London.
He looked into the weary eyes of his reflection and said, as one makes a
reassuring promise, "London."
He was being worried. He was being intolerably worried, and he was ill
and unable to sustain his positions. This doubt, this sudden discovery
of controversial unsoundness, was only one aspect of his general
neurasthenia. It had been creeping into his mind since the "Light Unden
the Altar" controversy. Now suddenly it had leapt upon him from his own
unwary lips.
The immediate trouble arose from his loyalty. He had followed the King's
example; he had become a total abstainer and, in addition, on his own
account he had ceased to smoke. And his digestion, which Princhester
had first made sensitive, was deranged. He was suffering chemically,
suffering one of those nameless sequences of maladjustments that still
defy our ordinary medical science. It was afflicting him with a general
malaise, it was affecting his energy, his temper, all the balance and
comfort of his nerves. All day he was weary; all night he was wakeful.
He was estranged from his body. He was distressed by a sense of
detachment from the things about him, by a curious intimation of
unreality in everything he experienced. And with that went this levity
of conscience, a heaviness of soul and a levity of conscience, that
could make him talk as though the Creeds did not matter--as though
nothing mattered....
If only he could smoke!
He was persuaded that a couple of Egyptian cigarettes, or three at the
outside, a day, would do wonders in restoring his nervous calm. That,
and just a weak whisky and soda at lunch and dinner. Suppose now--!
His conscience, his sense of honour, deserted him. Latterly he had had
several of these conscience-blanks; it was only when they were over that
he realized that they had occurred.
One might smoke up the chimney, he reflected. But he had no cigarettes!
Perhaps if he were to slip downstairs....
Why had he given up smoking?
He groaned aloud. He and his reflection eyed one another in mutual
despair.
There came before his memory the image of a boy's face, a swarthy little
boy, grinning, grinning with a horrible knowingness and pointing
his finger--an accusing finger. It had been the most exasperating,
humiliating, and shameful incident in the bishop's career. It was
the afternoon for his fortnightly address to the Shop-girls' Church
Association, and he had been seized with a panic fear, entirely
irrational and unjustifiable, that he would not be able to deliver the
address. The fear had arisen after lunch, had gripped his mind, and then
as now had come the thought, "If only I could smoke!" And he had smoked.
It seemed better to break a vow than fail the Association. He had fallen
to the temptation with a completeness that now filled him with shame and
horror. He had stalked Dunk, his valet-butler, out of the dining-room,
had affected to need a book from the book-case beyond the sideboard,
had gone insincerely to the sideboard humming "From Greenland's icy
mountains," and then, glancing over his shoulder, had stolen one of
his own cigarettes, one of the fatter sort. With this and his bedroom
matches he had gone off to the bottom of the garden among the laurels,
looked everywhere except above the wall to be sure that he was alone,
and at last lit up, only as he raised his eyes in gratitude for the
first blissful inhalation to discover that dreadful little boy peeping
at him from the crotch in the yew-tree in the next garden. As though God
had sent him to be a witness!
Their eyes had met. The bishop recalled with an agonized distinctness
every moment, every error, of that shameful encounter. He had been too
surprised to conceal the state of affairs from the pitiless scrutiny of
those youthful eyes. He had instantly made as if to put the cigarette
behind his back, and then as frankly dropped it....
His soul would not be more naked at the resurrection. The little boy
had stared, realized the state of affairs slowly but surely, pointed his
finger....
Never had two human beings understood each other more completely.
A dirty little boy! Capable no doubt of a thousand kindred
scoundrelisms.
It seemed ages before the conscience-stricken bishop could tear himself
from the spot and walk back, with such a pretence of dignity as he could
muster, to the house.
And instead of the discourse he had prepared for the Shop-girls' Church
Association, he had preached on temptation and falling, and how he knew
they had all fallen, and how he understood and could sympathize with the
bitterness of a secret shame, a moving but unsuitable discourse that
had already been subjected to misconstruction and severe reproof in the
local press of Princhester.
But the haunting thing in the bishop's memory was the face and gesture
of the little boy. That grubby little finger stabbed him to the heart.
"Oh, God!" he groaned. "The meanness of it! How did I bring myself--?"
He turned out the light convulsively, and rolled over in the bed, making
a sort of cocoon of himself. He bored his head into the pillow and
groaned, and then struggled impatiently to throw the bed-clothes off
himself. Then he sat up and talked aloud.
"I must go to Brighton-Pomfrey," he said. "And get a medical
dispensation. If I do not smoke--"
He paused for a long time.
Then his voice sounded again in the darkness, speaking quietly, speaking
with a note almost of satisfaction.
"I shall go mad. I must smoke or I shall go mad."
For a long time he sat up in the great bed with his arms about his
knees.
(5)
Fearful things came to him; things at once dreadfully blasphemous and
entirely weak-minded.
The triangle and the eye became almost visible upon the black background
of night. They were very angry. They were spinning round and round
faster and faster. Because he was a bishop and because really he did not
believe fully and completely in the Trinity. At one and the same time
he did not believe in the Trinity and was terrified by the anger of the
Trinity at his unbelief.... He was afraid. He was aghast.... And oh! he
was weary....
He rubbed his eyes.
"If I could have a cup of tea!" he said.
Then he perceived with surprise that he had not thought of praying. What
should he say? To what could he pray?
He tried not to think of that whizzing Triangle, that seemed now to be
nailed like a Catherine wheel to the very centre of his forehead,
and yet at the same time to be at the apex of the universe. Against
that--for protection against that--he was praying. It was by a great
effort that at last he pronounced the words:
"Lighten our darkness, we beseech Thee, O Lord ...."
Presently he had turned up his light, and was prowling about the room.
The clear inky dinginess that comes before the raw dawn of a spring
morning, found his white face at the window, looking out upon the great
terrace and the park.
CHAPTER THE SECOND - THE WEAR AND TEAR OF EPISCOPACY
(1)
IT was only in the last few years that the bishop had experienced
these nervous and mental crises. He was a belated doubter. Whatever
questionings had marked his intellectual adolescence had either been
very slight or had been too adequately answered to leave any serious
scars upon his convictions.
And even now he felt that he was afflicted physically rather than
mentally, that some protective padding of nerve-sheath or brain-case had
worn thin and weak, and left him a prey to strange disturbances, rather
than that any new process of thought was eating into his mind. These
doubts in his mind were still not really doubts; they were rather alien
and, for the first time, uncontrolled movements of his intelligence.
He had had a sheltered upbringing; he was the well-connected son of
a comfortable rectory, the only son and sole survivor of a family
of three; he had been carefully instructed and he had been a willing
learner; it had been easy and natural to take many things for granted.
It had been very easy and pleasant for him to take the world as he found
it and God as he found Him. Indeed for all his years up to manhood
he had been able to take life exactly as in his infancy he took his
carefully warmed and prepared bottle--unquestioningly and beneficially.
And indeed that has been the way with most bishops since bishops began.
It is a busy continuous process that turns boys into bishops, and it
will stand few jars or discords. The student of ecclesiastical biography
will find that an early vocation has in every age been almost universal
among them; few are there among these lives that do not display the
incipient bishop from the tenderest years. Bishop How of Wakefield
composed hymns before he was eleven, and Archbishop Benson when scarcely
older possessed a little oratory in which he conducted services and--a
pleasant touch of the more secular boy--which he protected from a too
inquisitive sister by means of a booby trap. It is rare that those
marked for episcopal dignities go so far into the outer world
as Archbishop Lang of York, who began as a barrister. This early
predestination has always been the common episcopal experience.
Archbishop Benson's early attempts at religious services remind one both
of St. Thomas a Becket, the "boy bishop," and those early ceremonies of
St. Athanasius which were observed and inquired upon by the good bishop
Alexander. (For though still a tender infant, St. Athanasius with
perfect correctness and validity was baptizing a number of his innocent
playmates, and the bishop who "had paused to contemplate the sports of
the child remained to confirm the zeal of the missionary.") And as with
the bishop of the past, so with the bishop of the future; the Rev. H. J.
Campbell, in his story of his soul's pilgrimage, has given us a pleasant
picture of himself as a child stealing out into the woods to build
himself a little altar.
Such minds as these, settled as it were from the outset, are either
incapable of real scepticism or become sceptical only after catastrophic
changes. They understand the sceptical mind with difficulty, and their
beliefs are regarded by the sceptical mind with incredulity. They have
determined their forms of belief before their years of discretion, and
once those forms are determined they are not very easily changed. Within
the shell it has adopted the intelligence may be active and lively
enough, may indeed be extraordinarily active and lively, but only within
the shell.
There is an entire difference in the mental quality of those who are
converts to a faith and those who are brought up in it. The former know
it from outside as well as from within. They know not only that it is,
but also that it is not. The latter have a confidence in their creed
that is one with their apprehension of sky or air or gravitation. It
is a primary mental structure, and they not only do not doubt but they
doubt the good faith of those who do. They think that the Atheist and
Agnostic really believe but are impelled by a mysterious obstinacy to
deny. So it had been with the Bishop of Princhester; not of cunning
or design but in simple good faith he had accepted all the inherited
assurances of his native rectory, and held by Church, Crown, Empire,
decorum, respectability, solvency--and compulsory Greek at the Little
Go--as his father had done before him. If in his undergraduate days he
had said a thing or two in the modern vein, affected the socialism
of William Morris and learnt some Swinburne by heart, it was out of a
conscious wildness. He did not wish to be a prig. He had taken a far
more genuine interest in the artistry of ritual.
Through all the time of his incumbency of the church of the Holy
Innocents, St. John's Wood, and of his career as the bishop suffragan
of Pinner, he had never faltered from his profound confidence in those
standards of his home. He had been kind, popular, and endlessly active.
His undergraduate socialism had expanded simply and sincerely into a
theory of administrative philanthropy. He knew the Webbs. He was
as successful with working-class audiences as with fashionable
congregations. His home life with Lady Ella (she was the daughter of
the fifth Earl of Birkenholme) and his five little girls was simple,
beautiful, and happy as few homes are in these days of confusion. Until
he became Bishop of Princhester--he followed Hood, the first bishop,
as the reign of his Majesty King Edward the Peacemaker drew to its
close--no anticipation of his coming distress fell across his path.
(2)
He came to Princhester an innocent and trustful man. The home life
at the old rectory of Otteringham was still his standard of truth and
reality. London had not disillusioned him. It was a strange waste of
people, it made him feel like a missionary in infidel parts, but it was
a kindly waste. It was neither antagonistic nor malicious. He had always
felt there that if he searched his Londoner to the bottom, he would
find the completest recognition of the old rectory and all its data and
implications.
But Princhester was different.
Princhester made one think that recently there had been a second and
much more serious Fall.
Princhester was industrial and unashamed. It was a countryside savagely
invaded by forges and mine shafts and gaunt black things. It was scarred
and impeded and discoloured. Even before that invasion, when the heather
was not in flower it must have been a black country. Its people were
dour uncandid individuals, who slanted their heads and knitted their
brows to look at you. Occasionally one saw woods brown and blistered by
the gases from chemical works. Here and there remained old rectories,
closely reminiscent of the dear old home at Otteringham, jostled and
elbowed and overshadowed by horrible iron cylinders belching smoke and
flame. The fine old abbey church of Princhester, which was the cathedral
of the new diocese, looked when first he saw it like a lady Abbess who
had taken to drink and slept in a coal truck. She minced apologetically
upon the market-place; the parvenu Town Hall patronized and protected
her as if she were a poor relation....
The old aristocracy of the countryside was unpicturesquely decayed. The
branch of the Walshinghams, Lady Ella's cousins, who lived near Pringle,
was poor, proud and ignoble. And extremely unpopular. The rich people
of the country were self-made and inclined to nonconformity, the
working-people were not strictly speaking a "poor," they were highly
paid, badly housed, and deeply resentful. They went in vast droves to
football matches, and did not care a rap if it rained. The prevailing
wind was sarcastic. To come here from London was to come from
atmospheric blue-greys to ashen-greys, from smoke and soft smut to grime
and black grimness.
The bishop had been charmed by the historical associations of
Princhester when first the see was put before his mind. His realization
of his diocese was a profound shock.
Only one hint had he had of what was coming. He had met during
his season of congratulations Lord Gatling dining unusually at the
Athenaeum. Lord Gatling and he did not talk frequently, but on this
occasion the great racing peer came over to him. "You will feel like a
cherub in a stokehole," Lord Gatling had said....
"They used to heave lumps of slag at old Hood's gaiters," said Lord
Gatling.
"In London a bishop's a lord and a lark and nobody minds him," said Lord
Gatling, "but Princhester is different. It isn't used to bishops....
Well,--I hope you'll get to like 'em."
(3)
Trouble began with a fearful row about the position of the bishop's
palace. Hood had always evaded this question, and a number of
strong-willed self-made men of wealth and influence, full of local
patriotism and that competitive spirit which has made England what it
is, already intensely irritated by Hood's prevarications, were resolved
to pin his successor to an immediate decision. Of this the new bishop
was unaware. Mindful of a bishop's constant need to travel, he was
disposed to seek a home within easy reach of Pringle Junction, from
which nearly every point in the diocese could be simply and easily
reached. This fell in with Lady Ella's liking for the rare rural
quiet of the Kibe valley and the neighbourhood of her cousins the
Walshinghams. Unhappily it did not fall in with the inflexible
resolution of each and every one of the six leading towns of the see to
put up, own, obtrude, boast, and swagger about the biggest and showiest
thing in episcopal palaces in all industrial England, and the new
bishop had already taken a short lease and gone some way towards the
acquisition of Ganford House, two miles from Pringle, before he realized
the strength and fury of these local ambitions.
At first the magnates and influences seemed to be fighting only among
themselves, and he was so ill-advised as to broach the Ganford House
project as a compromise that would glorify no one unfairly, and leave
the erection of an episcopal palace for some future date when he perhaps
would have the good fortune to have passed to "where beyond these
voices there is peace," forgetting altogether among other oversights
the importance of architects and builders in local affairs. His
proposal seemed for a time to concentrate the rich passions of the whole
countryside upon himself and his wife.
Because they did not leave Lady Ella alone. The Walshinghams were
already unpopular in their county on account of a poverty and shyness
that made them seem "stuck up" to successful captains of industry
only too ready with the hand of friendship, the iron grip indeed
of friendship, consciously hospitable and eager for admission and
endorsements. And Princhester in particular was under the sway of that
enterprising weekly, The White Blackbird, which was illustrated by,
which indeed monopolized the gifts of, that brilliant young caricaturist
"The Snicker."
It had seemed natural for Lady Ella to acquiesce in the proposals of the
leading Princhester photographer. She had always helped where she could
in her husband's public work, and she had been popular upon her own
merits in Wealdstone. The portrait was abominable enough in itself; it
dwelt on her chin, doubled her age, and denied her gentleness, but it
was a mere starting-point for the subtle extravagance of The Snicker's
poisonous gift.... The thing came upon the bishop suddenly from the
book-stall at Pringle Junction.
He kept it carefully from Lady Ella.... It was only later that he found
that a copy of The White Blackbird had been sent to her, and that she
was keeping the horror from him. It was in her vein that she should
reproach herself for being a vulnerable side to him.
Even when the bishop capitulated in favour of Princhester, that decision
only opened a fresh trouble for him. Princhester wanted the palace to be
a palace; it wanted to combine all the best points of Lambeth and
Fulham with the marble splendours of a good modern bank. The bishop's
architectural tastes, on the other hand, were rationalistic. He was all
for building a useful palace in undertones, with a green slate roof
and long horizontal lines. What he wanted more than anything else was
a quite remote wing with a lot of bright little bedrooms and a
sitting-room and so on, complete in itself, examination hall and
everything, with a long intricate connecting passage and several doors,
to prevent the ordination candidates straying all over the place and
getting into the talk and the tea. But the diocese wanted a proud
archway--and turrets, and did not care a rap if the ordination
candidates slept about on the carpets in the bishop's bedroom.
Ordination candidates were quite outside the sphere of its imagination.
And he disappointed Princhester with his equipage. Princhester had
a feeling that it deserved more for coming over to the church from
nonconformity as it was doing. It wanted a bishop in a mitre and a gilt
coach. It wanted a pastoral crook. It wanted something to go with its
mace and its mayor. And (obsessed by The Snicker) it wanted less of Lady
Ella. The cruelty and unreason of these attacks upon his wife distressed
the bishop beyond measure, and baffled him hopelessly. He could not see
any means of checking them nor of defending or justifying her against
them.
The palace was awaiting its tenant, but the controversies and
bitternesses were still swinging and swaying and developing when King
George was being crowned. Close upon that event came a wave of social
discontent, the great railway strike, a curious sense of social and
political instability, and the first beginnings of the bishop's ill
health.
(4)
There came a day of exceptional fatigue and significance.
The industrial trouble was a very real distress to the bishop. He had
a firm belief that it is a function of the church to act as mediator
between employer and employed. It was a common saying of his that the
aim of socialism--the right sort of socialism--was to Christianize
employment. Regardless of suspicion on either hand, regardless of
very distinct hints that he should "mind his own business," he exerted
himself in a search for methods of reconciliation. He sought out every
one who seemed likely to be influential on either side, and did his
utmost to discover the conditions of a settlement. As far as possible
and with the help of a not very efficient chaplain he tried to combine
such interviews with his more normal visiting.
At times, and this was particularly the case on this day, he seemed to
be discovering nothing but the incurable perversity and militancy of
human nature. It was a day under an east wind, when a steely-blue sky
full of colourless light filled a stiff-necked world with whitish high
lights and inky shadows. These bright harsh days of barometric high
pressure in England rouse and thwart every expectation of the happiness
of spring. And as the bishop drove through the afternoon in a hired
fly along a rutted road of slag between fields that were bitterly wired
against the Sunday trespasser, he fell into a despondent meditation upon
the political and social outlook.
His thoughts were of a sort not uncommon in those days. The world was
strangely restless. Since the passing of Victoria the Great there had
been an accumulating uneasiness in the national life. It was as if some
compact and dignified paper-weight had been lifted from people's ideas,
and as if at once they had begun to blow about anyhow. Not that Queen
Victoria had really been a paper-weight or any weight at all, but
it happened that she died as an epoch closed, an epoch of tremendous
stabilities. Her son, already elderly, had followed as the selvedge
follows the piece, he had passed and left the new age stripped bare.
In nearly every department of economic and social life now there was
upheaval, and it was an upheaval very different in character from the
radicalism and liberalism of the Victorian days. There were not only
doubt and denial, but now there were also impatience and unreason.
People argued less and acted quicker. There was a pride in rebellion for
its own sake, an indiscipline and disposition to sporadic violence that
made it extremely hard to negotiate any reconciliations or compromises.
Behind every extremist it seemed stood a further extremist prepared to
go one better....
The bishop had spent most of the morning with one of the big employers,
a tall dark man, lean and nervous, and obviously tired and worried
by the struggle. He did not conceal his opinion that the church was
meddling with matters quite outside its sphere. Never had it been
conveyed to the bishop before how remote a rich and established
Englishman could consider the church from reality.
"You've got no hold on them," he said. "It isn't your sphere."
And again: "They'll listen to you--if you speak well. But they don't
believe you know anything about it, and they don't trust your good
intentions. They won't mind a bit what you say unless you drop something
they can use against us."
The bishop tried a few phrases. He thought there might be something in
co-operation, in profit-sharing, in some more permanent relationship
between the business and the employee.
"There isn't," said the employer compactly. "It's just the malice of
being inferior against the man in control. It's just the spirit of
insubordination and boredom with duty. This trouble's as old as the
Devil."
"But that is exactly the business of the church," said the bishop
brightly, "to reconcile men to their duty."
"By chanting the Athanasian creed at 'em, I suppose," said the big
employer, betraying the sneer he had been hiding hitherto.
"This thing is a fight," said the big employer, carrying on before the
bishop could reply. "Religion had better get out of the streets until
this thing is over. The men won't listen to reason. They don't mean
to. They're bit by Syndicalism. They're setting out, I tell you, to be
unreasonable and impossible. It isn't an argument; it's a fight. They
don't want to make friends with the employer. They want to make an end
to the employer. Whatever we give them they'll take and press us for
more. Directly we make terms with the leaders the men go behind
it.... It's a raid on the whole system. They don't mean to work the
system--anyhow. I'm the capitalist, and the capitalist has to go. I'm to
be bundled out of my works, and some--some "--he seemed to be rejecting
unsuitable words--"confounded politician put in. Much good it would do
them. But before that happens I'm going to fight. You would."
The bishop walked to the window and stood staring at the brilliant
spring bulbs in the big employer's garden, and at a long vista of
newly-mown lawn under great shapely trees just budding into green.
"I can't admit," he said, "that these troubles lie outside the sphere of
the church."
The employer came and stood beside him. He felt he was being a little
hard on the bishop, but he could not see any way of making things
easier.
"One doesn't want Sacred Things," he tried, "in a scrap like this.
"We've got to mend things or end things," continued the big employer.
"Nothing goes on for ever. Things can't last as they are going on
now...."
Then he went on abruptly to something that for a time he had been
keeping back.
"Of course just at present the church may do a confounded lot of harm.
Some of you clerical gentlemen are rather too fond of talking socialism
and even preaching socialism. Don't think I want to be overcritical.
I admit there's no end of things to be said for a proper sort of
socialism, Ruskin, and all that. We're all Socialists nowadays.
Ideals--excellent. But--it gets misunderstood. It gives the men a sense
of moral support. It makes them fancy that they are It. Encourages them
to forget duties and set up preposterous claims. Class war and all that
sort of thing. You gentlemen of the clergy don't quite realize that
socialism may begin with Ruskin and end with Karl Marx. And that from
the Class War to the Commune is just one step."
(5)
From this conversation the bishop had made his way to the vicarage of
Mogham Banks. The vicar of Mogham Banks was a sacerdotal socialist of
the most advanced type, with the reputation of being closely in touch
with the labour extremists. He was a man addicted to banners, prohibited
ornaments, special services at unusual hours, and processions in the
streets. His taste in chasubles was loud, he gardened in a cassock
and, it was said, he slept in his biretta; he certainly slept in a hair
shirt, and he littered his church with flowers, candles, side altars,
confessional boxes, requests for prayers for the departed, and the like.
There had already been two Kensitite demonstrations at his services, and
altogether he was a source of considerable anxiety to the bishop. The
bishop did his best not to know too exactly what was going on at Mogham
Banks. Sooner or later he felt he would be forced to do something--and
the longer he could put that off the better. But the Rev. Morrice Deans
had promised to get together three or four prominent labour leaders for
tea and a frank talk, and the opportunity was one not to be missed.
So the bishop, after a hasty and not too digestible lunch in the
refreshment room at Pringle, was now in a fly that smelt of straw
and suggested infectious hospital patients, on his way through the
industry-scarred countryside to this second conversation.
The countryside had never seemed so scarred to him as it did that day.
It was probably the bright hard spring sunshine that emphasized
the contrast between that dear England of hedges and homes and the
south-west wind in which his imagination lived, and the crude presences
of a mechanical age. Never before had the cuttings and heapings, the
smashing down of trees, the obtrusion of corrugated iron and tar, the
belchings of smoke and the haste, seemed so harsh and disregardful
of all the bishop's world. Across the fields a line of gaunt iron
standards, abominably designed, carried an electric cable to some
unknown end. The curve of the hill made them seem a little out of the
straight, as if they hurried and bent forward furtively.
"Where are they going?" asked the bishop, leaning forward to look out of
the window of the fly, and then: "Where is it all going?"
And presently the road was under repair, and was being done at a great
pace with a huge steam-roller, mechanically smashed granite, and kettles
of stinking stuff, asphalt or something of that sort, that looked
and smelt like Milton's hell. Beyond, a gaunt hoarding advertised
extensively the Princhester Music Hall, a mean beastly place that
corrupted boys and girls; and also it clamoured of tyres and potted
meats....
The afternoon's conference gave him no reassuring answer to his
question, "Where is it all going?"
The afternoon's conference did no more than intensify the new and
strange sense of alienation from the world that the morning's talk had
evoked.
The three labour extremists that Morrice Deans had assembled obviously
liked the bishop and found him picturesque, and were not above a certain
snobbish gratification at the purple-trimmed company they were in, but
it was clear that they regarded his intervention in the great dispute
as if it were a feeble waving from the bank across the waters of a great
river.
"There's an incurable misunderstanding between the modern employer and
the modern employed," the chief labour spokesman said, speaking in a
broad accent that completely hid from him and the bishop and every one
the fact that he was by far the best-read man of the party. "Disraeli
called them the Two Nations, but that was long ago. Now it's a case
of two species. Machinery has made them into different species. The
employer lives away from his work-people, marries a wife foreign, out of
a county family or suchlike, trains his children from their very birth
in a different manner. Why, the growth curve is different for the two
species. They haven't even a common speech between them. One looks east
and the other looks west. How can you expect them to agree? Of course
they won't agree. We've got to fight it out. They say we're their
slaves for ever. Have you ever read Lady Bell's 'At the Works'? A
well-intentioned woman, but she gives the whole thing away. We say,
No! It's our sort and not your sort. We'll do without you. We'll get a
little more education and then we'll do without you. We're pressing for
all we can get, and when we've got that we'll take breath and press
for more. We're the Morlocks. Coming up. It isn't our fault that we've
differentiated."
"But you haven't understood the drift of Christianity," said the bishop.
"It's just to assert that men are One community and not two."
"There's not much of that in the Creeds," said a second labour leader
who was a rationalist. "There's not much of that in the services of the
church."
The vicar spoke before his bishop, and indeed he had plenty of time
to speak before his bishop. "Because you will not set yourselves to
understand the symbolism of her ritual," he said.
"If the church chooses to speak in riddles," said the rationalist.
"Symbols," said Morrice Deans, "need not be riddles," and for a time the
talk eddied about this minor issue and the chief labour spokesman and
the bishop looked at one another. The vicar instanced and explained
certain apparently insignificant observances, his antagonist was
contemptuously polite to these explanations. "That's all very pratty,"
he said....
The bishop wished that fine points of ceremonial might have been left
out of the discussion.
Something much bigger than that was laying hold of his intelligence, the
realization of a world extravagantly out of hand. The sky, the wind,
the telegraph poles, had been jabbing in the harsh lesson of these men's
voices, that the church, as people say, "wasn't in it." And that at
the same time the church held the one remedy for all this ugliness and
contention in its teaching of the universal fatherhood of God and the
universal brotherhood of men. Only for some reason he hadn't the phrases
and he hadn't the voice to assert this over their wrangling and their
stiff resolution. He wanted to think the whole business out thoroughly,
for the moment he had nothing to say, and there was the labour leader
opposite waiting smilingly to hear what he had to say so soon as the
bout between the vicar and the rationalist was over.
(6)
That morning in the long galleries of the bishop's imagination a fresh
painting had been added. It was a big wall painting rather in the manner
of Puvis de Chavannes. And the central figure had been the bishop of
Princhester himself. He had been standing upon the steps of the
great door of the cathedral that looks upon the marketplace where the
tram-lines meet, and he had been dressed very magnificently and rather
after the older use. He had been wearing a tunicle and dalmatic under a
chasuble, a pectoral cross, purple gloves, sandals and buskins, a mitre
and his presentation ring. In his hand he had borne his pastoral staff.
And the clustering pillars and arches of the great doorway were painted
with a loving flat particularity that omitted nothing but the sooty
tinge of the later discolourations.
On his right hand had stood a group of employers very richly dressed
in the fashion of the fifteenth century, and on the left a rather more
numerous group of less decorative artisans. With them their wives and
children had been shown, all greatly impressed by the canonicals. Every
one had been extremely respectful.
He had been reconciling the people and blessing them and calling them
his "sheep" and his "little children."
But all this was so different.
Neither party resembled sheep or little children in the least degree. .
The labour leader became impatient with the ritualistic controversy; he
set his tea-cup aside out of danger and leant across the corner of the
table to the bishop and spoke in a sawing undertone. "You see," he said,
"the church does not talk our language. I doubt if it understands our
language. I doubt if we understand clearly where we are ourselves. These
things have to be fought out and hammered out. It's a big dusty dirty
noisy job. It may be a bloody job before it's through. You can't
suddenly call a halt in the middle of the scrap and have a sort of
millennium just because you want it....
"Of course if the church had a plan," he said, "if it had a proposal to
make, if it had anything more than a few pious palliatives to suggest,
that might be different. But has it?"
The bishop had a bankrupt feeling. On the spur of the moment he could
say no more than: "It offers its mediation."
(7)
Full as he was with the preoccupation of these things and so a little
slow and inattentive in his movements, the bishop had his usual luck
at Pringle Junction and just missed the 7.27 for Princhester. He might
perhaps have got it by running through the subway and pushing past
people, but bishops must not run through subways and push past people.
His mind swore at the mischance, even if his lips refrained.
He was hungry and, tired; he would not get to the palace now until long
after nine; dinner would be over and Lady Ella would naturally suppose
he had dined early with the Rev. Morrice Deans. Very probably there
would be nothing ready for him at all.
He tried to think he was exercising self-control, but indeed all his
sub-conscious self was busy in a manner that would not have disgraced
Tertullian with the eternal welfare of those city fathers whose
obstinacy had fixed the palace at Princhester. He walked up and down the
platform, gripping his hands very tightly behind him, and maintaining
a serene upcast countenance by a steadfast effort. It seemed a small
matter to him that the placards of the local evening papers should
proclaim "Lloyd George's Reconciliation Meeting at Wombash Broken up
by Suffragettes." For a year now he had observed a strict rule against
buying the products of the local press, and he saw no reason for varying
this protective regulation.
His mind was full of angry helplessness.
Was he to blame, was the church to blame, for its powerlessness in these
social disputes? Could an abler man with a readier eloquence have done
more?
He envied the cleverness of Cardinal Manning. Manning would have got
right into the front of this affair. He would have accumulated credit
for his church and himself....
But would he have done much?...
The bishop wandered along the platform to its end, and stood
contemplating the convergent ways that gather together beyond the
station and plunge into the hillside and the wilderness of sidings and
trucks, signal-boxes, huts, coal-pits, electric standards, goods sheds,
turntables, and engine-houses, that ends in a bluish bricked-up cliff
against the hill. A train rushed with a roar and clatter into the
throat of the great tunnel and was immediately silenced; its rear lights
twinkled and vanished, and then out of that huge black throat came wisps
of white steam and curled slowly upward like lazy snakes until they
caught the slanting sunshine. For the first time the day betrayed
a softness and touched this scene of black energy to gold. All late
afternoons are beautiful, whatever the day has been--if only there is a
gleam of sun. And now a kind of mechanical greatness took the place of
mere black disorder in the bishop's perception of his see. It was harsh,
it was vast and strong, it was no lamb he had to rule but a dragon.
Would it ever be given to him to overcome his dragon, to lead it home,
and bless it?
He stood at the very end of the platform, with his gaitered legs wide
apart and his hands folded behind him, staring beyond all visible
things.
Should he do something very bold and striking? Should he invite both men
and masters to the cathedral, and preach tremendous sermons to them upon
these living issues?
Short sermons, of course.
But stating the church's attitude with a new and convincing vigour.
He had a vision of the great aisle strangely full and alive and astir.
The organ notes still echoed in the fretted vaulting, as the preacher
made his way from the chancel to the pulpit. The congregation was tense
with expectation, and for some reason his mind dwelt for a long time
upon the figure of the preacher ascending the steps of the pulpit.
Outside the day was dark and stormy, so that the stained-glass windows
looked absolutely dead. For a little while the preacher prayed. Then in
the attentive silence the tenor of the preacher would begin, a thin jet
of sound, a ray of light in the darkness, speaking to all these men as
they had never been spoken to before....
Surely so one might call a halt to all these harsh conflicts. So one
might lay hands afresh upon these stubborn minds, one might win them
round to look at Christ the Master and Servant....
That, he thought, would be a good phrase: "Christ the Master and
Servant."....
"Members of one Body," that should be his text.... At last it was
finished. The big congregation, which had kept so still, sighed and
stirred. The task of reconciliation was as good as done. "And now to God
the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost...."
Outside the day had become suddenly bright, the threatening storm had
drifted away, and great shafts of coloured light from the pictured
windows were smiting like arrows amidst his hearers....
This idea of a great sermon upon capital and labour did so powerfully
grip the bishop's imagination that he came near to losing the 8.27 train
also.
He discovered it when it was already in the station. He had to walk down
the platform very quickly. He did not run, but his gaiters, he felt,
twinkled more than a bishop's should.
(8)
Directly he met his wife he realized that he had to hear something
important and unpleasant.
She stood waiting for him in the inner hall, looking very grave and
still. The light fell upon her pale face and her dark hair and her long
white silken dress, making her seem more delicate and unworldly than
usual and making the bishop feel grimy and sordid.
"I must have a wash," he said, though before he had thought of nothing
but food. "I have had nothing to eat since tea-time--and that was mostly
talk."
Lady Ella considered. "There are cold things.... You shall have a tray
in the study. Not in the dining-room. Eleanor is there. I want to tell
you something. But go upstairs first and wash your poor tired face."
"Nothing serious, I hope?" he asked, struck by an unusual quality in her
voice.
"I will tell you," she evaded, and after a moment of mutual scrutiny he
went past her upstairs.
Since they had come to Princhester Lady Ella had changed very markedly.
She seemed to her husband to have gained in dignity; she was stiller
and more restrained; a certain faint arrogance, a touch of the "ruling
class" manner had dwindled almost to the vanishing point. There had been
a time when she had inclined to an authoritative hauteur, when she had
seemed likely to develop into one of those aggressive and interfering
old ladies who play so overwhelming a part in British public affairs.
She had been known to initiate adverse judgments, to exercise the snub,
to cut and humiliate. Princhester had done much to purge her of such
tendencies. Princhester had made her think abundantly, and had put a new
and subtler quality into her beauty. It had taken away the least little
disposition to rustle as she moved, and it had softened her voice.
Now, when presently she stood in the study, she showed a new
circumspection in her treatment of her husband. She surveyed the tray
before him.
"You ought not to drink that Burgundy," she said. "I can see you
are dog-tired. It was uncorked yesterday, and anyhow it is not very
digestible. This cold meat is bad enough. You ought to have one of those
quarter bottles of champagne you got for my last convalescence. There's
more than a dozen left over."
The bishop felt that this was a pretty return of his own kindly thoughts
"after many days," and soon Dunk, his valet-butler, was pouring out the
precious and refreshing glassful....
"And now, dear?" said the bishop, feeling already much better.
Lady Ella had come round to the marble fireplace. The mantel-piece was
a handsome work by a Princhester artist in the Gill style--with
contemplative ascetics as supporters.
"I am worried about Eleanor," said Lady Ella.
"She is in the dining-room now," she said, "having some dinner. She came
in about a quarter past eight, half way through dinner."
"Where had she been?" asked the bishop.
"Her dress was torn--in two places. Her wrist had been twisted and a
little sprained."
"My dear!"
"Her face--Grubby! And she had been crying."
"But, my dear, what had happened to her? You don't mean--?"
Husband and wife stared at one another aghast. Neither of them said the
horrid word that flamed between them.
"Merciful heaven!" said the bishop, and assumed an attitude of despair.
"I didn't know she knew any of them. But it seems it is the second
Walshingham girl--Phoebe. It's impossible to trace a girl's thoughts and
friends. She persuaded her to go."
"But did she understand?"
"That's the serious thing," said Lady Ella.
She seemed to consider whether he could bear the blow.
"She understands all sorts of things. She argues.... I am quite unable
to argue with her."
"About this vote business?"
"About all sorts of things. Things I didn't imagine she had heard of.
I knew she had been reading books. But I never imagined that she could
have understood...."
The bishop laid down his knife and fork.
"One may read in books, one may even talk of things, without fully
understanding," he said.
Lady Ella tried to entertain this comforting thought. "It isn't like
that," she said at last. "She talks like a grown-up person. This--this
escapade is just an accident. But things have gone further than that.
She seems to think--that she is not being educated properly here, that
she ought to go to a College. As if we were keeping things from her...."
The bishop reconsidered his plate.
"But what things?" he said.
"She says we get all round her," said Lady Ella, and left the
implications of that phrase to unfold.
(9)
For a time the bishop said very little.
Lady Ella had found it necessary to make her first announcement standing
behind him upon the hearthrug, but now she sat upon the arm of the great
armchair as close to him as possible, and spoke in a more familiar tone.
The thing, she said, had come to her as a complete surprise. Everything
had seemed so safe. Eleanor had been thoughtful, it was true, but it had
never occurred to her mother that she had really been thinking--about
such things as she had been thinking about. She had ranged in the
library, and displayed a disposition to read the weekly papers and the
monthly reviews. But never a sign of discontent.
"But I don't understand," said the bishop. "Why is she discontented?
What is there that she wants different?"
"Exactly," said Lady Ella.
"She has got this idea that life here is secluded in some way," she
expanded. "She used words like 'secluded' and 'artificial' and--what was
it?--'cloistered.' And she said--"
Lady Ella paused with an effect of exact retrospection.
"'Out there,' she said, 'things are alive. Real things are happening.'
It is almost as if she did not fully believe--"
Lady Ella paused again.
The bishop sat with his arm over the back of his chair, and his face
downcast.
"The ferment of youth," he said at last. "The ferment of youth. Who has
given her these ideas?"
Lady Ella did not know. She could have thought a school like St. Aubyns
would have been safe, but nowadays nothing was safe. It was clear the
girls who went there talked as girls a generation ago did not talk.
Their people at home encouraged them to talk and profess opinions about
everything. It seemed that Phoebe Walshingham and Lady Kitty Kingdom
were the leaders in these premature mental excursions. Phoebe aired
religious doubts.
"But little Phoebe!" said the bishop.
"Kitty," said Lady Ella, "has written a novel."
"Already!"
"With elopements in it--and all sorts of things. She's had it typed.
You'd think Mary Crosshampton would know better than to let her daughter
go flourishing the family imagination about in that way."
"Eleanor told you?"
"By way of showing that they think of--things in general."
The bishop reflected. "She wants to go to College."
"They want to go in a set."
"I wonder if college can be much worse than school.... She's eighteen--?
But I will talk to her...."
(10)
All our children are changelings. They are perpetually fresh strangers.
Every day they vanish and a new person masquerades as yesterday's child
until some unexpected development betrays the cheat.
The bishop had still to learn this perennial newness of the young. He
learnt it in half an hour at the end of a fatiguing day.
He went into the dining-room. He went in as carelessly as possible and
smoking a cigarette. He had an honourable dread of being portentous in
his family; almost ostentatiously he laid the bishop aside. Eleanor had
finished her meal, and was sitting in the arm-chair by the fire with one
hand holding her sprained wrist.
"Well," he said, and strolled to the hearthrug. He had had an odd idea
that he would find her still dirty, torn, and tearful, as her mother had
described her, a little girl in a scrape. But she had changed into
her best white evening frock and put up her hair, and became in the
firelight more of a lady, a very young lady but still a lady, than she
had ever been to him before. She was dark like her mother, but not of
the same willowy type; she had more of her father's sturdy build, and
she had developed her shoulders at hockey and tennis. The firelight
brought out the gracious reposeful lines of a body that ripened in
adolescence. And though there was a vibration of resolution in her voice
she spoke like one who is under her own control.
"Mother has told you that I have disgraced myself," she began.
"No," said the bishop, weighing it. "No. But you seem to have been
indiscreet, little Norah."
"I got excited," she said. "They began turning out the other
women--roughly. I was indignant."
"You didn't go to interrupt?" he asked.
She considered. "No," she said. "But I went."
He liked her disposition to get it right. "On that side," he assisted.
"It isn't the same thing as really meaning, Daddy," she said.
"And then things happened?"
"Yes," she said to the fire.
A pause followed. If they had been in a law-court, her barrister would
have said, "That is my case, my lord." The bishop prepared to open the
next stage in the proceedings.
"I think, Norah, you shouldn't have been there at all," he said.
"Mother says that."
"A man in my position is apt to be judged by his family. You commit
more than yourself when you commit an indiscretion. Apart from that, it
wasn't the place for a girl to be at. You are not a child now. We give
you freedom--more freedom than most girls get--because we think you
will use it wisely. You knew--enough to know that there was likely to be
trouble."
The girl looked into the fire and spoke very carefully. "I don't think
that I oughtn't to know the things that are going on."
The bishop studied her face for an instant. It struck him that they
had reached something very fundamental as between parent and child. His
modernity showed itself in the temperance of his reply.
"Don't you think, my dear, that on the whole your mother and I, who have
lived longer and know more, are more likely to know when it is best that
you should begin to know--this or that?"
The girl knitted her brows and seemed to be reading her answer out of
the depths of the coals. She was on the verge of speaking, altered her
mind and tried a different beginning.
"I think that every one must do their thinking--his
thinking--for--oneself," she said awkwardly.
"You mean you can't trust--?"
"It isn't trusting. But one knows best for oneself when one is hungry."
"And you find yourself hungry?"
"I want to find out for myself what all this trouble about votes and
things means."
"And we starve you--intellectually?"
"You know I don't think that. But you are busy...."
"Aren't you being perhaps a little impatient, Eleanor? After all--you
are barely eighteen.... We have given you all sorts of liberties."
Her silence admitted it. "But still," she said after a long pause,
"there are other girls, younger than I am, in these things. They talk
about--oh, all sorts of things. Freely...."
"You've been awfully good to me," she said irrelevantly. "And of course
this meeting was all pure accident."
Father and daughter remained silent for awhile, seeking a better grip.
"What exactly do you want, Eleanor?" he asked.
She looked up at him. "Generally?" she asked.
"Your mother has the impression that you are discontented."
"Discontented is a horrid word."
"Well--unsatisfied."
She remained still for a time. She felt the moment had come to make her
demand.
"I would like to go to Newnham or Somerville--and work. I feel--so
horribly ignorant. Of all sorts of things. If I were a son I should
go--"
"Ye--es," said the bishop and reflected.
He had gone rather far in the direction of the Woman Suffrage people;
he had advocated equality of standard in all sorts of matters, and the
memory of these utterances hampered him.
"You could read here," he tried.
"If I were a son, you wouldn't say that."
His reply was vague. "But in this home," he said, "we have a certain
atmosphere."
He left her to imply her differences in sensibility and response from
the hardier male.
Her hesitation marked the full gravity of her reply. "It's just that,"
she said. "One feels--" She considered it further. "As if we were living
in a kind of magic world--not really real. Out there--" she glanced
over her shoulder at the drawn blind that hid the night. "One meets with
different sorts of minds and different--atmospheres. All this is very
beautiful. I've had the most wonderful home. But there's a sort of
feeling as though it couldn't really go on, as though all these strikes
and doubts and questionings--"
She stopped short at questionings, for the thing was said.
The bishop took her meaning gallantly and honestly.
"The church of Christ, little Norah, is built upon a rock."
She made no answer. She moved her head very slightly so that he could
not see her face, and remained sitting rather stiffly and awkwardly with
her eyes upon the fire.
Her silence was the third and greatest blow the bishop received that
day....
It seemed very long indeed before either of them spoke. At last he said:
"We must talk about these things again, Norah, when we are less tired
and have more time.... You have been reading books.... When Caxton set
up his printing-press he thrust a new power between church and disciple
and father and child.... And I am tired. We must talk it over a little
later."
The girl stood up. She took her father's hands. "Dear, dear Daddy,"
she said, "I am so sorry to be a bother. I am so sorry I went to that
meeting.... You look tired out."
"We must talk--properly," said the bishop, patting one hand, then
discovering from her wincing face that it was the sprained one. "Your
poor wrist," he said.
"It's so hard to talk, but I want to talk to you, Daddy. It isn't that I
have hidden things...."
She kissed him, and the bishop had the odd fancy that she kissed him as
though she was sorry for him....
It occurred to him that really there could be no time like the present
for discussing these "questionings" of hers, and then his fatigue and
shyness had the better of him again.
(11)
The papers got hold of Eleanor's share in the suffragette disturbance.
The White Blackbird said things about her.
It did not attack her. It did worse. It admired her ...impudently.
It spoke of her once as "Norah," and once as "the Scrope Flapper."
Its headline proclaimed: "Plucky Flappers Hold Up L. G."
CHAPTER THE THIRD - INSOMNIA
(1)
THE night after his conversation with Eleanor was the first night of the
bishop's insomnia. It was the definite beginning of a new phase in his
life.
Doctors explain to us that the immediate cause of insomnia is always
some poisoned or depleted state of the body, and no doubt the
fatigues and hasty meals of the day had left the bishop in a state of
unprecedented chemical disorder, with his nerves irritated by strange
compounds and unsoothed by familiar lubricants. But chemical disorders
follow mental disturbances, and the core and essence of his trouble was
an intellectual distress. For the first time in his life he was
really in doubt, about himself, about his way of living, about all his
persuasions. It was a general doubt. It was not a specific suspicion
upon this point or that. It was a feeling of detachment and unreality at
once extraordinarily vague and extraordinarily oppressive. It was as
if he discovered himself flimsy and transparent in a world of minatory
solidity and opacity. It was as if he found himself made not of flesh
and blood but of tissue paper.
But this intellectual insecurity extended into his physical sensations.
It affected his feeling in his skin, as if it were not absolutely his
own skin.
And as he lay there, a weak phantom mentally and bodily, an endless
succession and recurrence of anxieties for which he could find no
reassurance besieged him.
Chief of this was his distress for Eleanor.
She was the central figure in this new sense of illusion in familiar and
trusted things. It was not only that the world of his existence which
had seemed to be the whole universe had become diaphanous and betrayed
vast and uncontrollable realities beyond it, but his daughter had as it
were suddenly opened a door in this glassy sphere of insecurity that had
been his abiding refuge, a door upon the stormy rebel outer world, and
she stood there, young, ignorant, confident, adventurous, ready to step
out.
"Could it be possible that she did not believe?"
He saw her very vividly as he had seen her in the dining-room, slender
and upright, half child, half woman, so fragile and so fearless. And the
door she opened thus carelessly gave upon a stormy background like one
of the stormy backgrounds that were popular behind portrait Dianas in
eighteenth century paintings. Did she believe that all he had taught
her, all the life he led was--what was her phrase?--a kind of magic
world, not really real?
He groaned and turned over and repeated the words: "A kind of magic
world--not really real!"
The wind blew through the door she opened, and scattered everything in
the room. And still she held the door open.
He was astonished at himself. He started up in swift indignation. Had
he not taught the child? Had he not brought her up in an atmosphere
of faith? What right had she to turn upon him in this matter? It
was--indeed it was--a sort of insolence, a lack of reverence....
It was strange he had not perceived this at the time.
But indeed at the first mention of "questionings" he ought to have
thundered. He saw that quite clearly now. He ought to have cried out and
said, "On your knees, my Norah, and ask pardon of God!"
Because after all faith is an emotional thing....
He began to think very rapidly and copiously of things he ought to have
said to Eleanor. And now the eloquence of reverie was upon him. In a
little time he was also addressing the tea-party at Morrice Deans'. Upon
them too he ought to have thundered. And he knew now also all that he
should have said to the recalcitrant employer. Thunder also. Thunder is
surely the privilege of the higher clergy--under Jove.
But why hadn't he thundered?
He gesticulated in the darkness, thrust out a clutching hand.
There are situations that must be gripped--gripped firmly. And without
delay. In the middle ages there had been grip enough in a purple glove.
(2)
From these belated seizures of the day's lost opportunities the bishop
passed to such a pessimistic estimate of the church as had never entered
his mind before.
It was as if he had fallen suddenly out of a spiritual balloon into
a world of bleak realism. He found himself asking unprecedented and
devastating questions, questions that implied the most fundamental
shiftings of opinion. Why was the church such a failure? Why had it
no grip upon either masters or men amidst this vigorous life of modern
industrialism, and why had it no grip upon the questioning young? It was
a tolerated thing, he felt, just as sometimes he had felt that the
Crown was a tolerated thing. He too was a tolerated thing; a curious
survival....
This was not as things should be. He struggled to recover a proper
attitude. But he remained enormously dissatisfied....
The church was no Levite to pass by on the other side away from the
struggles and wrongs of the social conflict. It had no right when the
children asked for the bread of life to offer them Gothic stone....
He began to make interminable weak plans for fulfilling his duty to his
diocese and his daughter.
What could he do to revivify his clergy? He wished he had more personal
magnetism, he wished he had a darker and a larger presence. He wished he
had not been saddled with Whippham's rather futile son as his chaplain.
He wished he had a dean instead of being his own dean. With an
unsympathetic rector. He wished he had it in him to make some resounding
appeal. He might of course preach a series of thumping addresses and
sermons, rather on the lines of "Fors Clavigera," to masters and men,
in the Cathedral. Only it was so difficult to get either masters or men
into the Cathedral.
Well, if the people will not come to the bishop the bishop must go out
to the people. Should he go outside the Cathedral--to the place where
the trains met?
Interweaving with such thoughts the problem of Eleanor rose again into
his consciousness.
Weren't there books she ought to read? Weren't there books she ought to
be made to read? And books--and friends--that ought to be imperatively
forbidden? Imperatively!
But how to define the forbidden?
He began to compose an address on Modern Literature (so-called).
It became acrimonious.
Before dawn the birds began to sing.
His mind had seemed to be a little tranquillized, there had been a
distinct feeling of subsidence sleepwards, when first one and then
another little creature roused itself and the bishop to greet the
gathering daylight.
It became a little clamour, a misty sea of sound in which individuality
appeared and disappeared. For a time a distant cuckoo was very
perceptible, like a landmark looming up over a fog, like the cuckoo in
the Pastoral Symphony.
The bishop tried not to heed these sounds, but they were by their very
nature insistent sounds. He lay disregarding them acutely.
Presently he pulled the coverlet over his ears.
A little later he sat up in bed.
Again in a slight detail he marked his strange and novel detachment from
the world of his upbringing. His hallucination of disillusionment had
spread from himself and his church and his faith to the whole animate
creation. He knew that these were the voices of "our feathered
songsters," that this was "a joyous chorus" greeting the day. He knew
that a wakeful bishop ought to bless these happy creatures, and join
with them by reciting Ken's morning hymn. He made an effort that was
more than half habit, to repeat and he repeated with a scowling face and
the voice of a schoolmaster:
"Awake my soul, and with the sun
Thy daily stage of duty run...."
He got no further. He stopped short, sat still, thinking what utterly
detestable things singing birds were. A. blackbird had gripped his
attention. Never had he heard such vain repetitions. He struggled
against the dark mood of criticism. "He prayeth best who loveth best--"
No, he did not love the birds. It was useless to pretend. Whatever one
may say about other birds a cuckoo is a low detestable cad of a bird.
Then the bishop began to be particularly tormented by a bird that made a
short, insistent, wheezing sound at regular intervals of perhaps twenty
seconds. If a bird could have whooping-cough, that, he thought, was the
sort of whoop it would have. But even if it had whooping-cough he could
not pity it. He hung in its intervals waiting for the return of the
wheeze.
And then that blackbird reasserted itself. It had a rich boastful note;
it seemed proud of its noisy reiteration of simple self-assertion. For
some obscure reason the phrase "oleographic sounds" drifted into the
bishop's thoughts. This bird produced the peculiar and irrational
impression that it had recently made a considerable sum of money by
shrewd industrialism. It was, he thought grimly, a genuine Princhester
blackbird.
This wickedly uncharitable reference to his diocese ran all unchallenged
through the bishop's mind. And others no less wicked followed it.
Once during his summer holidays in Florence he and Lady Ella had
subscribed to an association for the protection of song-birds. He
recalled this now with a mild wonder. It seemed to him that perhaps
after all it was as well to let fruit-growers and Italians deal with
singing-birds in their own way. Perhaps after all they had a wisdom....
He passed his hands over his face. The world after all is not made
entirely for singing-birds; there is such a thing as proportion.
Singing-birds may become a luxury, an indulgence, an excess.
Did the birds eat the fruit in Paradise?
Perhaps there they worked for some collective musical effect, had some
sort of conductor in the place of this--hullabaloo....
He decided to walk about the room for a time and then remake his bed....
The sunrise found the bishop with his head and shoulders out of the
window trying to see that blackbird. He just wanted to look at it. He
was persuaded it was a quite exceptional blackbird.
Again came that oppressive sense of the futility of the contemporary
church, but this time it came in the most grotesque form. For hanging
half out of the casement he was suddenly reminded of St. Francis of
Assisi, and how at his rebuke the wheeling swallow stilled their cries.
But it was all so different then.
(3)
It was only after he had passed four similar nights, with intervening
days of lassitude and afternoon siestas, that the bishop realized that
he was in the grip of insomnia.
He did not go at once to a doctor, but he told his trouble to every one
he met and received much tentative advice. He had meant to have his
talk with Eleanor on the morning next after their conversation in the
dining-room, but his bodily and spiritual anaemia prevented him.
The fifth night was the beginning of the Whitsuntide Ember week, and
he wore a red cassock and had a distracting and rather interesting day
welcoming his ordination candidates. They had a good effect upon him; we
spiritualize ourselves when we seek to spiritualize others, and he went
to bed in a happier frame of mind than he had done since the day of the
shock. He woke in the night, but he woke much more himself than he had
been since the trouble began. He repeated that verse of Ken's:
"When in the night I sleepless lie, My soul with heavenly thoughts
supply; Let no ill dreams disturb my rest, No powers of darkness me
molest."
Almost immediately after these there floated into his mind, as if it
were a message, the dear familiar words:
"He giveth his Beloved sleep."
These words irradiated and soothed him quite miraculously, the clouds of
doubt seemed to dissolve and vanish and leave him safe and calm under a
clear sky; he knew those words were a promise, and very speedily he fell
asleep and slept until he was called.
But the next day was a troubled one. Whippham had muddled his timetable
and crowded his afternoon; the strike of the transport workers had
begun, and the ugly noises they made at the tramway depot, where they
were booing some one, penetrated into the palace. He had to snatch a
meal between services, and the sense of hurry invaded his afternoon
lectures to the candidates. He hated hurry in Ember week. His ideal was
one of quiet serenity, of grave things said slowly, of still, kneeling
figures, of a sort of dark cool spiritual germination. But what sort of
dark cool spiritual germination is possible with an ass like Whippham
about?
In the fresh courage of the morning the bishop had arranged for that
talk with Eleanor he had already deferred too long, and this had proved
less satisfactory than he had intended it to be.
The bishop's experience with the ordination candidates was following
the usual course. Before they came there was something bordering upon
distaste for the coming invasion; then always there was an effect of
surprise at the youth and faith of the neophytes and a real response of
the spirit to the occasion. Throughout the first twenty-four hours
they were all simply neophytes, without individuality to break up their
uniformity of self-devotion. Then afterwards they began to develop
little personal traits, and scarcely ever were these pleasing traits.
Always one or two of them would begin haunting the bishop, giving way
to an appetite for special words, special recognitions. He knew the
expression of that craving on their faces. He knew the way-laying
movements in room and passage that presently began.
This time in particular there was a freckled underbred young man who
handed in what was evidently a carefully prepared memorandum upon what
he called "my positions." Apparently he had a muddle of doubts about
the early fathers and the dates of the earlier authentic copies of the
gospels, things of no conceivable significance.
The bishop glanced through this bale of papers--it had of course no
index and no synopsis, and some of the pages were not numbered--handed
it over to Whippham, and when he proved, as usual, a broken reed, the
bishop had the brilliant idea of referring the young man to Canon Bliss
(of Pringle), "who has a special knowledge quite beyond my own in this
field."
But he knew from the young man's eye even as he said this that it was
not going to put him off for more than a day or so.
The immediate result of glancing over these papers was, however, to
enhance in the bishop's mind a growing disposition to minimize the
importance of all dated and explicit evidences and arguments for
orthodox beliefs, and to resort to vague symbolic and liberal
interpretations, and it was in this state that he came to his talk with
Eleanor.
He did not give her much time to develop her objections. He met her
half way and stated them for her, and overwhelmed her with sympathy
and understanding. She had been "too literal." "Too literal" was his
keynote. He was a little astonished at the liberality of his own views.
He had been getting along now for some years without looking into his
own opinions too closely and he was by no means prepared to discover
how far he had come to meet his daughter's scepticisms. But he did meet
them. He met them so thoroughly that he almost conveyed that hers was a
needlessly conservative and oldfashioned attitude.
Occasionally he felt he was being a little evasive, but she did not
seem to notice it. As she took his drift, her relief and happiness were
manifest. And he had never noticed before how clear and pretty her eyes
were; they were the most honest eyes he had ever seen. She looked at him
very steadily as he explained, and lit up at his points. She brightened
wonderfully as she realized that after all they were not apart, they had
not differed; simply they had misunderstood....
And before he knew where he was, and in a mere parenthetical declaration
of liberality, he surprised himself by conceding her demand for Newnham
even before she had repeated it. It helped his case wonderfully.
"Call in every exterior witness you can. The church will welcome
them.... No, I want you to go, my dear...."
But his mind was stirred again to its depths by this discussion. And
in particular he was surprised and a little puzzled by this Newnham
concession and the necessity of making his new attitude clear to Lady
Ella....
It was with a sense of fatality that he found himself awake again that
night, like some one lying drowned and still and yet perfectly conscious
at the bottom of deep cold water.
He repeated, "He giveth his Beloved sleep," but all the conviction had
gone out of the words.
(4)
Neither the bishop's insomnia nor his incertitudes about himself and his
faith developed in a simple and orderly manner. There were periods of
sustained suffering and periods of recovery; it was not for a year or
so that he regarded these troubles as more than acute incidental
interruptions of his general tranquillity or realized that he was
passing into a new phase of life and into a new quality of thought.
He told every one of the insomnia and no one of his doubts; these he
betrayed only by an increasing tendency towards vagueness, symbolism,
poetry and toleration. Eleanor seemed satisfied with his exposition; she
did not press for further enlightenment. She continued all her outward
conformities except that after a time she ceased to communicate; and in
September she went away to Newnham. Her doubts had not visibly affected
Clementina or her other sisters, and the bishop made no further attempts
to explore the spiritual life of his family below the surface of its
formal acquiescence.
As a matter of fact his own spiritual wrestlings were almost exclusively
nocturnal. During his spells of insomnia he led a curiously double
existence. In the daytime he was largely the self he had always been,
able, assured, ecclesiastical, except that he was a little jaded and
irritable or sleepy instead of being quick and bright; he believed in
God and the church and the Royal Family and himself securely; in
the wakeful night time he experienced a different and novel self, a
bare-minded self, bleakly fearless at its best, shamelessly weak at its
worst, critical, sceptical, joyless, anxious. The anxiety was quite the
worst element of all. Something sat by his pillow asking grey questions:
"What are you doing? Where are you going? Is it really well with the
children? Is it really well with the church? Is it really well with the
country? Are you indeed doing anything at all? Are you anything more
than an actor wearing a costume in an archaic play? The people turn
their backs on you."
He would twist over on his pillow. He would whisper hymns and prayers
that had the quality of charms.
"He giveth his Beloved sleep"; that answered many times, and many times
it failed.
The labour troubles of 1912 eased off as the year wore on, and the
bitterness of the local press over the palace abated very considerably.
Indeed there was something like a watery gleam of popularity when he
brought down his consistent friend, the dear old Princess Christiana of
Hoch and Unter, black bonnet, deafness, and all, to open a new wing of
the children's hospital. The Princhester conservative paper took the
occasion to inform the diocese that he was a fluent German scholar and
consequently a persona grata with the royal aunts, and that the Princess
Christiana was merely just one of a number of royalties now practically
at the beck and call of Princhester. It was not true, but it was very
effective locally, and seemed to justify a little the hauteur of which
Lady Ella was so unjustly suspected. Yet it involved a possibility of
disappointments in the future.
He went to Brighton-Pomfrey too upon the score of his general health,
and Brighton-Pomfrey revised his general regimen, discouraged indiscreet
fasting, and suggested a complete abstinence from red wine except white
port, if indeed that can be called a red wine, and a moderate use of
Egyptian cigarettes.
But 1913 was a strenuous year. The labour troubles revived, the
suffragette movement increased greatly in violence and aggressiveness,
and there sprang up no less than three ecclesiastical scandals in
the diocese. First, the Kensitites set themselves firmly to make
presentations and prosecutions against Morrice Deans, who was reserving
the sacrament, wearing, they said, "Babylonish garments," going beyond
all reason in the matter of infant confession, and generally brightening
up Mogham Banks; next, a popular preacher in Wombash, published a book
under the exasperating title, "The Light Under the Altar," in which
he showed himself as something between an Arian and a Pantheist, and
treated the dogma of the Trinity with as little respect as one would
show to an intrusive cat; while thirdly, an obscure but overworked
missioner of a tin mission church in the new working-class district at
Pringle, being discovered in some sort of polygamous relationship, had
seen fit to publish in pamphlet form a scandalous admission and defence,
a pamphlet entitled "Marriage True and False," taking the public
needlessly into his completest confidence and quoting the affairs of
Abraham and Hosea, reviving many points that are better forgotten about
Luther, and appealing also to such uncanonical authorities as
Milton, Plato, and John Humphrey Noyes. This abnormal concurrence of
indiscipline was extremely unlucky for the bishop. It plunged him into
strenuous controversy upon three fronts, so to speak, and involved
a great number of personal encounters far too vivid for his mental
serenity.
The Pringle polygamist was the most moving as Morrice Deans was the most
exacting and troublesome and the Wombash Pantheist the most insidiously
destructive figure in these three toilsome disputes. The Pringle man's
soul had apparently missed the normal distribution of fig-leaves; he
was an illiterate, open-eyed, hard-voiced, freckled, rational-minded
creature, with large expository hands, who had come by a side way into
the church because he was an indefatigable worker, and he insisted upon
telling the bishop with an irrepressible candour and completeness just
exactly what was the matter with his intimate life. The bishop very
earnestly did not want these details, and did his utmost to avoid the
controversial questions that the honest man pressed respectfully but
obstinately upon him.
"Even St. Paul, my lord, admitted that it is better to marry than burn,"
said the Pringle misdemeanant, "and here was I, my lord, married and
still burning!" and, "I think you would find, my lord, considering
all Charlotte's peculiarities, that the situation was really much more
trying than the absolute celibacy St. Paul had in view."...
The bishop listened to these arguments as little as possible, and did
not answer them at all. But afterwards the offender came and wept and
said he was ruined and heartbroken and unfairly treated because
he wasn't a gentleman, and that was distressing. It was so exactly
true--and so inevitable. He had been deprived, rather on account of
his voice and apologetics than of his offence, and public opinion was
solidly with the sentence. He made a gallant effort to found what
he called a Labour Church in Pringle, and after some financial
misunderstandings departed with his unambiguous menage to join the
advanced movement on the Clyde.
The Morrice Deans enquiry however demanded an amount of erudition that
greatly fatigued the bishop. He had a very fair general knowledge of
vestments, but he had never really cared for anything but the poetry of
ornaments, and he had to work strenuously to master the legal side
of the question. Whippham, his chaplain, was worse than useless as a
helper. The bishop wanted to end the matter as quickly, quietly, and
favourably to Morrice Deans as possible; he thought Morrice Deans a
thoroughly good man in his parish, and he believed that the substitution
of a low churchman would mean a very complete collapse of church
influence in Mogham Banks, where people were now thoroughly accustomed
to a highly ornate service. But Morrice Deans was intractable and his
pursuers indefatigable, and on several occasions the bishop sat far into
the night devising compromises and equivocations that should make the
Kensitites think that Morrice Deans wasn't wearing vestments when he
was, and that should make Morrice Deans think he was wearing vestments
when he wasn't. And it was Whippham who first suggested green tea as
a substitute for coffee, which gave the bishop indigestion, as his
stimulant for these nocturnal bouts.
Now green tea is the most lucid of poisons.
And while all this extra activity about Morrice Deans, these vigils and
crammings and writings down, were using all and more energy than the
bishop could well spare, he was also doing his quiet utmost to keep "The
Light under the Altar" ease from coming to a head.
This man he hated.
And he dreaded him as well as hated him. Chasters, the author of "The
Light under the Altar," was a man who not only reasoned closely
but indelicately. There was a demonstrating, jeering, air about his
preaching and writing, and everything he said and did was saturated by
the spirit of challenge. He did not so much imitate as exaggerate the
style of Matthew Arnold. And whatever was done publicly against him
would have to be done very publicly because his book had got him a
London reputation.
From the bishop's point of view Chasters was one of nature's ignoblemen.
He seemed to have subscribed to the Thirty-Nine Articles and passed all
the tests and taken all the pledges that stand on the way to ordination,
chiefly for the pleasure of attacking them more successfully from the
rear; he had been given the living of Wombash by a cousin, and filled it
very largely because it was not only more piquant but more remunerative
and respectable to be a rationalist lecturer in a surplice. And in a
hard kind of ultra-Protestant way his social and parochial work was not
badly done. But his sermons were terrible. "He takes a text," said one
informant, "and he goes on firstly, secondly, thirdly, fourthly, like
somebody tearing the petals from a flower. 'Finally,' he says, and
throws the bare stalk into the dustbin."
The bishop avoided "The Light under the Altar" for nearly a year. It
was only when a second book was announced with the winning title of "The
Core of Truth in Christianity" that he perceived he must take action.
He sat up late one night with a marked copy, a very indignantly marked
copy, of the former work that an elderly colonel, a Wombash parishioner,
an orthodox Layman of the most virulent type, had sent him. He perceived
that he had to deal with a dialectician of exceptional ability, who had
concentrated a quite considerable weight of scholarship upon the task of
explaining away every scrap of spiritual significance in the Eucharist.
From Chasters the bishop was driven by reference to the works of Legge
and Frazer, and for the first time he began to measure the dimensions
and power of the modern criticism of church doctrine and observance.
Green tea should have lit his way to refutation; instead it lit up the
whole inquiry with a light of melancholy confirmation. Neither by night
nor by day could the bishop find a proper method of opening a counter
attack upon Chasters, who was indisputably an intellectually abler man
and a very ruthless beast indeed to assail, and meanwhile the demand
that action should be taken increased.
The literature of church history and the controversies arising out of
doctrinal development became the employment of the bishop's leisure and
a commanding preoccupation. He would have liked to discuss with some one
else the network of perplexities in which he was entangling himself, and
more particularly with Canon Bliss, but his own positions were becoming
so insecure that he feared to betray them by argument. He had grown up
with a kind of intellectual modesty. Some things he had never yet talked
about; it made his mind blench to think of talking about them. And his
great aching gaps of wakefulness began now, thanks to the green tea, to
be interspersed with theological dreams and visions of an extravagant
vividness. He would see Frazer's sacrificial kings butchered
picturesquely and terribly amidst strange and grotesque rituals; he
would survey long and elaborate processions and ceremonials in which
the most remarkable symbols were borne high in the sight of all men; he
would cower before a gigantic and threatening Heaven. These
green-tea dreams and visions were not so much phases of sleep as an
intensification and vivid furnishing forth of insomnia. It added
greatly to his disturbance that--exceeding the instructions of
Brighton-Pomfrey--he had now experimented ignorantly and planlessly
with one or two narcotics and sleeping mixtures that friends and
acquaintances had mentioned in his hearing. For the first time in his
life he became secretive from his wife. He knew he ought not to take
these things, he knew they were physically and morally evil, but
a tormenting craving drove him to them. Subtly and insensibly his
character was being undermined by the growing nervous trouble.
He astonished himself by the cunning and the hypocritical dignity he
could display in procuring these drugs. He arranged to have a tea-making
set in his bedroom, and secretly substituted green tea, for which he
developed a powerful craving, in the place of the delicate China tea
Lady Ella procured him.
(5)
These doctrinal and physical anxieties and distresses were at their
worst in the spring and early summer of 1914. That was a time of great
mental and moral disturbance. There was premonition in the air of those
days. It was like the uneasiness sensitive people experience before a
thunderstorm. The moral atmosphere was sullen and close. The whole
world seemed irritable and mischievous. The suffragettes became
extraordinarily malignant; the democratic movement went rotten with
sabotage and with a cant of being "rebels"; the reactionary Tories and a
crew of noisy old peeresses set themselves to create incurable confusion
again in the healing wounds of Ireland, and feuds and frantic folly
broke out at every point of the social and political edifice. And then
a bomb burst at Sarajevo that silenced all this tumult. The unstable
polity of Europe heeled over like a ship that founders.
Through the swiftest, tensest week in history Europe capsized into war.
(6)
The first effect of the war upon the mind of the bishop, as upon
most imaginative minds, was to steady and exalt it. Trivialities and
exasperations seemed swept out of existence. Men lifted up their eyes
from disputes that had seemed incurable and wrangling that promised to
be interminable, and discovered a plain and tragic issue that involved
every one in a common call for devotion. For a great number of men and
women who had been born and bred in security, the August and September
of 1914 were the supremely heroic period of their lives. Myriads
of souls were born again to ideas of service and sacrifice in those
tremendous days.
Black and evil thing as the war was, it was at any rate a great thing;
it did this much for countless minds that for the first time they
realized the epic quality of history and their own relationship to the
destinies of the race. The flimsy roof under which we had been living
our lives of comedy fell and shattered the floor under our feet; we saw
the stars above and the abyss below. We perceived that life was insecure
and adventurous, part of one vast adventure in space and time....
Presently the smoke and dust of battle hid the great distances again,
but they could not altogether destroy the memories of this revelation.
For the first two months the bishop's attention was so detached from
his immediate surroundings and employments, so absorbed by great events,
that his history if it were told in detail would differ scarcely at all
from the histories of most comparatively unemployed minds during those
first dramatic days, the days when the Germans made their great rush
upon Paris and it seemed that France was down, France and the whole
fabric of liberal civilization. He emerged from these stunning
apprehensions after the Battle of the Marne, to find himself busy upon a
score of dispersed and disconnected war jobs, and trying to get all the
new appearances and forces and urgencies of the war into relations with
himself. One thing became very vivid indeed, that he wasn't being used
in any real and effective way in the war. There was a mighty going
to and fro upon Red Cross work and various war committees, a vast
preparation for wounded men and for the succour of dislocated
families; a preparation, that proved to be needless, for catastrophic
unemployment. The war problem and the puzzle of German psychology ousted
for a time all other intellectual interests; like every one else the
bishop swam deep in Nietzsche, Bernhardi, Houston Stewart Chamberlain,
and the like; he preached several sermons upon German materialism
and the astonishing decay of the German character. He also read every
newspaper he could lay his hands on--like any secular man. He signed
an address to the Russian Orthodox church, beginning "Brethren," and
he revised his impressions of the Filioque controversy. The idea of a
reunion of the two great state churches of Russia and England had always
attracted him. But hitherto it had been a thing quite out of scale,
visionary, utopian. Now in this strange time of altered perspectives it
seemed the most practicable of suggestions. The mayor and corporation
and a detachment of the special reserve in uniform came to a great
intercession service, and in the palace there were two conferences of
local influential people, people of the most various types, people
who had never met tolerantly before, expressing now opinions of
unprecedented breadth and liberality.
All this sort of thing was fresh and exciting at first, and then it
began to fall into a routine and became habitual, and as it became
habitual he found that old sense of detachment and futility was creeping
back again. One day he realized that indeed the whole flood and tumult
of the war would be going on almost exactly as it was going on now if
there had been neither cathedral nor bishop in Princhester. It came to
him that if archbishops were rolled into patriarchs and patriarchs into
archbishops, it would matter scarcely more in the world process that was
afoot than if two men shook hands while their house was afire. At times
all of us have inappropriate thoughts. The unfortunate thought that
struck the bishop as a bullet might strike a man in an exposed trench,
as he was hurrying through the cloisters to a special service and
address upon that doubly glorious day in our English history, the day of
St. Crispin, was of Diogenes rolling his tub.
It was a poisonous thought.
It arose perhaps out of an article in a weekly paper at which he had
glanced after lunch, an article written by one of those sceptical
spirits who find all too abundant expression in our periodical
literature. The writer boldly charged the "Christian churches" with
absolute ineffectiveness. This war, he declared, was above all other
wars a war of ideas, of material organization against rational freedom,
of violence against law; it was a war more copiously discussed than any
war had ever been before, the air was thick with apologetics. And what
was the voice of the church amidst these elemental issues? Bishops and
divines who were patriots one heard discordantly enough, but where were
the bishops and divines who spoke for the Prince of Peace? Where was the
blessing of the church, where was the veto of the church? When it
came to that one discovered only a broad preoccupied back busied in
supplementing the Army Medical Corps with Red Cross activities, good
work in its way--except that the canonicals seemed superfluous. Who
indeed looked to the church for any voice at all? And so to Diogenes.
The bishop's mind went hunting for an answer to that indictment. And
came back and came back to the image of Diogenes.
It was with that image dangling like a barbed arrow from his mind that
the bishop went into the pulpit to preach upon St. Crispin's day, and
looked down upon a thin and scattered congregation in which the elderly,
the childless, and the unoccupied predominated.
That night insomnia resumed its sway.
Of course the church ought to be controlling this great storm, the
greatest storm of war that had ever stirred mankind. It ought to be
standing fearlessly between the combatants like a figure in a wall
painting, with the cross of Christ uplifted and the restored memory of
Christendom softening the eyes of the armed nations. "Put down those
weapons and listen to me," so the church should speak in irresistible
tones, in a voice of silver trumpets.
Instead it kept a long way from the fighting, tucked up its vestments,
and was rolling its local tubs quite briskly.
(7)
And then came the aggravation of all these distresses by an abrupt
abandonment of smoking and alcohol. Alcoholic relaxation, a necessary
mitigation of the unreality of peacetime politics, becomes a grave
danger in war, and it was with an understandable desire to forward the
interests of his realm that the King decided to set his statesmen an
example--which unhappily was not very widely followed--by abstaining
from alcohol during the continuance of the struggle. It did however
swing over the Bishop of Princhester to an immediate and complete
abandonment of both drink and tobacco. At that time he was finding
comfort for his nerves in Manila cheroots, and a particularly big and
heavy type of Egyptian cigarette with a considerable amount of opium,
and his disorganized system seized upon this sudden change as a
grievance, and set all his jangling being crying aloud for one
cigarette--just one cigarette.
The cheroots, it seemed, he could better spare, but a cigarette became
his symbol for his lost steadiness and ease.
It brought him low.
The reader has already been told the lamentable incident of the stolen
cigarette and the small boy, and how the bishop, tormented by that
shameful memory, cried aloud in the night.
The bishop rolled his tub, and is there any tub-rolling in the world
more busy and exacting than a bishop's? He rolled in it spite of
ill-health and insomnia, and all the while he was tormented by the
enormous background of the world war, by his ineffective realization
of vast national needs, by his passionate desire, for himself and his
church, not to be ineffective.
The distressful alternation between nights of lucid doubt and days of
dull acquiescence was resumed with an intensification of its contrasts.
The brief phase of hope that followed the turn of the fighting upon the
Maine, the hope that after all the war would end swiftly, dramatically,
and justly, and everything be as it had been before--but pleasanter,
gave place to a phase that bordered upon despair. The fall of Antwerp
and the doubts and uncertainties of the Flanders situation weighed
terribly upon the bishop. He was haunted for a time by nightmares of
Zeppelins presently raining fire upon London. These visions became
Apocalyptic. The Zeppelins came to England with the new year, and with
the close of the year came the struggle for Ypres that was so near
to being a collapse of the allied defensive. The events of the early
spring, the bloody failure of British generalship at Neuve Chapelle,
the naval disaster in the Dardanelles, the sinking of the Falaba,
the Russian defeat in the Masurian Lakes, all deepened the bishop's
impression of the immensity of the nation's difficulties and of his
own unhelpfulness. He was ashamed that the church should hold back its
curates from enlistment while the French priests were wearing their
uniforms in the trenches; the expedition of the Bishop of London to
hold open-air services at the front seemed merely to accentuate the
tub-rolling. It was rolling the tub just where it was most in the way.
What was wrong? What was wanting?
The Westminster Gazette, The Spectator, and several other of the most
trusted organs of public opinion were intermittently discussing the same
question. Their discussions implied at once the extreme need that
was felt for religion by all sorts of representative people, and the
universal conviction that the church was in some way muddling and
masking her revelation. "What is wrong with the Churches?" was,
for example, the general heading of The Westminster Gazette's
correspondence.
One day the bishop skimmed a brief incisive utterance by Sir Harry
Johnston that pierced to the marrow of his own shrinking convictions.
Sir Harry is one of those people who seem to write as well as speak in
a quick tenor. "Instead of propounding plainly and without the acereted
mythology of Asia Minor, Greece and Rome, the pure Gospel of Christ....
they present it overloaded with unbelievable myths (such as, among
a thousand others, that Massacre of the Innocents which never took
place).... bore their listeners by a Tibetan repetition of creeds that
have ceased to be credible.... Mutually contradictory propositions....
Prayers and litanies composed in Byzantine and mediaeval times....
the want of actuality, the curious silliness which has, ever since the
destruction of Jerusalem, hung about the exposition of Christianity....
But if the Bishops continue to fuss about the trappings of religion....
the maintenance of codes compiled by people who lived sixteen hundred
or two thousand five hundred years ago.... the increasingly educated
and practical-minded working classes will not come to church, weekday or
Sunday."
The bishop held the paper in his hand, and with a mind that he felt to
be terribly open, asked himself how true that sharp indictment might be,
and, granting its general truth, what was the duty of the church, that
is to say of the bishops, for as Cyprian says, ecelesia est in episcopo.
We say the creeds; how far may we unsay them?
So far he had taken no open action against Chasters. Suppose now he
were to side with Chasters and let the whole diocese, the church of
Princhester, drift as far as it chose under his inaction towards an
extreme modernism, risking a conflict with, and if necessary fighting,
the archbishop.... It was but for a moment that his mind swung to this
possibility and then recoiled. The Laymen, that band of bigots, would
fight. He could not contemplate litigation and wrangling about the
teaching of the church. Besides, what were the "trappings of religion"
and what the essentials? What after all was "the pure gospel of Christ"
of which this writer wrote so glibly? He put the paper down and took a
New Testament from his desk and opened it haphazard. He felt a curious
wish that he could read it for the first time. It was over-familiar.
Everything latterly in his theology and beliefs had become
over-familiar. It had all become mechanical and dead and unmeaning to
his tired mind....
Whippham came with a reminder of more tub-rolling, and the bishop's
speculations were broken off.
CHAPTER THE FOURTH - THE SYMPATHY OF LADY SUNDERBUND
(1)
THAT night when he cried aloud at the memory of his furtive cigarette,
the bishop was staying with a rich man named Garstein Fellows. These
Garstein Fellows people were steel people with a financial side to them;
young Garstein Fellows had his fingers in various chemical businesses,
and the real life of the firm was in various minor partners called
Hartstein and Blumenhart and so forth, who had acquired a considerable
amount of ungentlemanly science and energy in Germany and German
Switzerland. But the Fellows element was good old Princhester stuff.
There had been a Fellows firm in Princhester in 1819. They were not
people the bishop liked and it was not a house the bishop liked staying
at, but it had become part of his policy to visit and keep in touch with
as many of the local plutocracy as he could, to give and take with them,
in order to make the presence of the church a reality to them. It had
been not least among the negligences and evasions of the sainted but
indolent Hood that he had invariably refused overnight hospitality
whenever it was possible for him to get back to his home. The morning
was his working time. His books and hymns had profited at the cost of
missing many a generous after-dinner subscription, and at the expense
of social unity. From the outset Scrope had set himself to alter this.
A certain lack of enthusiasm on Lady Ella's part had merely provoked
him to greater effort on his own. His ideal of what was needed with the
people was something rather jolly and familiar, something like a very
good and successful French or Irish priest, something that came
easily and readily into their homes and laid a friendly hand on their
shoulders. The less he liked these rich people naturally the more
familiar his resolution to be successfully intimate made him. He put
down the names and brief characteristics of their sons and daughters in
a little note-book and consulted it before every visit so as to get
his most casual enquiries right. And he invited himself to the Garstein
Fellows house on this occasion by telegram.
"A special mission and some business in Wombash may I have a scrap of
supper and a bed?"
Now Mrs. Garstein Fellows was a thoroughly London woman; she was one of
the banking Grunenbaums, the fair tall sort, and she had a very decided
tendency to smartness. She had a little party in the house, a sort of
long week-end party, that made her hesitate for a minute or so before
she framed a reply to the bishop's request.
It was the intention of Mrs. Garstein Fellows to succeed very
conspicuously in the British world, and the British world she felt was
a complicated one; it is really not one world but several, and if you
would surely succeed you must keep your peace with all the systems and
be a source of satisfaction to all of them. So at least Mrs. Garstein
Fellows saw it, and her method was to classify her acquaintances
according to their systems, to keep them in their proper bundles, and
to give every one the treatment he or she was accustomed to receive. And
since all things British are now changing and passing away, it may not
be uninteresting to record the classification Mrs. Garstein Fellows
adopted. First she set apart as most precious and desirable, and
requiring the most careful treatment, the "court dowdies "--for so it
was that the dignity and quiet good taste that radiated from Buckingham
Palace impressed her restless, shallow mind--the sort of people who
prefer pair horse carriages to automobiles, have quiet friendships in
the highest quarters, quietly do not know any one else, busy themselves
with charities, dress richly rather than impressively, and have either
little water-colour accomplishments or none at all, and no other
relations with "art." At the skirts of this crowning British world Mrs.
Garstein Fellows tugged industriously and expensively. She did not keep
a carriage and pair and an old family coachman because that, she felt,
would be considered pushing and presumptuous; she had the sense to stick
to her common unpretending 80 h.p. Daimler; but she wore a special sort
of blackish hat-bonnet for such occasions as brought her near the centre
of honour, which she got from a little good shop known only to very few
outside the inner ring, which hat-bonnet she was always careful to
sit on for a few minutes before wearing. And it was to this first and
highest and best section of her social scheme that she considered that
bishops properly belonged. But some bishops, and in particular such
a comparatively bright bishop as the Bishop of Princhester, she also
thought of as being just as comfortably accommodated in her second
system, the "serious liberal lot," which was more fatiguing and less
boring, which talked of books and things, visited the Bells, went to all
first-nights when Granville Barker was the producer, and knew and valued
people in the grey and earnest plains between the Cecils and the Sidney
Webbs. And thirdly there were the smart intellectual lot, again not very
well marked off, and on the whole practicable to bishops, of whom fewer
particulars are needed because theirs is a perennial species, and then
finally there was that fourth world which was paradoxically at once very
brilliant and a little shady, which had its Night Club side, and seemed
to set no limit to its eccentricities. It seemed at times to be aiming
to shock and yet it had its standards, but here it was that the dancers
and actresses and forgiven divorcees came in--and the bishops as a rule,
a rule hitherto always respected, didn't. This was the ultimate world of
Mrs. Garstein Fellows; she had no use for merely sporting people and
the merely correct smart and the duller county families, sets that led
nowhere, and it was from her fourth system of the Glittering Doubtfuls
that this party which made her hesitate over the bishop's telegram, was
derived.
She ran over their names as she sat considering her reply.
What was there for a bishop to object to? There was that admirable
American widow, Lady Sunderbund. She was enormously rich, she was
enthusiastic. She was really on probation for higher levels; it was her
decolletage delayed her. If only she kept off theosophy and the Keltic
renascence and her disposition to profess wild intellectual passions,
there would be no harm in her. Provided she didn't come down to dinner
in anything too fantastically scanty--but a word in season was possible.
No! there was no harm in Lady Sunderbund. Then there were Ridgeway Kelso
and this dark excitable Catholic friend of his, Paidraig O'Gorman. Mrs.
Garstein Fellows saw no harm in them. Then one had to consider Lord
Gatling and Lizzie Barusetter. But nothing showed, nothing was likely to
show even if there was anything. And besides, wasn't there a Church and
Stage Guild?
Except for those people there seemed little reason for alarm. Mrs.
Garstein Fellows did not know that Professor Hoppart, who so amusingly
combined a professorship of political economy with the writing of
music-hall lyrics, was a keen amateur theologian, nor that Bent, the
sentimental novelist, had a similar passion. She did not know that her
own eldest son, a dark, romantic-looking youngster from Eton, had also
come to the theological stage of development. She did however weigh
the possibilities of too liberal opinions on what are called social
questions on the part of Miss Sharsper, the novelist, and decided that
if that lady was watched nothing so terrible could be said even in an
undertone; and as for the Mariposa, the dancer, she had nothing but
Spanish and bad French, she looked all right, and it wasn't very likely
she would go out of her way to startle an Anglican bishop. Simply she
needn't dance. Besides which even if a man does get a glimpse of a
little something--it isn't as if it was a woman.
But of course if the party mustn't annoy the bishop, the bishop must
do his duty by the party. There must be the usual purple and the silver
buckles.
She wired back:
"A little party but it won't put you out send your man with your
change."
(2)
In making that promise Mrs. Garstein Fellows reckoned without the
morbid sensibility of the bishop's disorganized nervous system and the
unsuspected theological stirrings beneath the apparent worldliness of
Hoppart and Bent.
The trouble began in the drawing-room after dinner. Out of deference to
the bishop's abstinence the men did not remain to smoke, but came in to
find the Mariposa and Lady Sunderbund smoking cigarettes, which these
ladies continued to do a little defiantly. They had hoped to finish them
before the bishop came up. The night was chilly, and a cheerful wood
fire cracking and banging on the fireplace emphasized the ordinary
heating. Mrs. Garstein Fellows, who had not expected so prompt an
appearance of the men, had arranged her chairs in a semicircle for a
little womanly gossip, and before she could intervene she found her
party, with the exception of Lord Gatling, who had drifted just a little
too noticeably with Miss Barnsetter into a window, sitting round with
a conscious air, that was perhaps just a trifle too apparent, of being
"good."
And Mr. Bent plunged boldly into general conversation.
"Are you reading anything now, Mrs. Garstein Fellows?" he asked. "I'm an
interested party."
She was standing at the side of the fireplace. She bit her lip and
looked at the cornice and meditated with a girlish expression. "Yes,"
she said. "I am reading again. I didn't think I should but I am."
"For a time," said Hoppart, "I read nothing but the papers. I bought
from a dozen to twenty a day."
"That is wearing off," said the bishop.
"The first thing I began to read again," said Mrs. Garstein Fellows,
"--I'm not saying it for your sake, Bishop--was the Bible."
"I went to the Bible," said Bent as if he was surprised.
"I've heard that before," said Ridgeway Kelso, in that slightly
explosive manner of his. "All sorts of people who don't usually read the
Bible--"
"But Mr. Kelso!" protested their hostess with raised eyebrows.
"I was thinking of Bent. But anyhow there's been a great wave of
seriousness, a sudden turning to religion and religious things. I don't
know if it comes your way, Bishop...."
"I've had no rows of penitents yet."
"We may be coming," said Hoppart.
He turned sideways to face the bishop. "I think we should be coming
if--if it wasn't for old entangled difficulties. I don't know if you
will mind my saying it to you, but...."
The bishop returned his frank glance. "I'd like to know above all
things," he said. "If Mrs. Garstein Fellow will permit us. It's my
business to know."
"We all want to know," said Lady Sunderbund, speaking from the low chair
on the other side of the fireplace. There was a vibration in her voice
and a sudden gleam of enthusiasm in her face. "Why shouldn't people talk
se'iously sometimes?"
"Well, take my own case," said Hoppart. "In the last few weeks, I've
been reading not only in the Bible but in the Fathers. I've read most of
Athanasius, most of Eusebius, and--I'll confess it--Gibbon. I find all
my old wonder come back. Why are we pinned to--to the amount of creed we
are pinned to? Why for instance must you insist on the Trinity?"
"Yes," said the Eton boy explosively, and flushed darkly to find he had
spoken.
"Here is a time when men ask for God," said Hoppart. "And you give them
three!" cried Bent rather cheaply. "I confess I find the way encumbered
by these Alexandrian elaborations," Hoppart completed.
"Need it be?" whispered Lady Sunderbund very softly.
"Well," said the bishop, and leant back in his armchair and knitted his
brow at the fire. "I do not think," he said, "that men coming to God
think very much of the nature of God. Nevertheless," he spoke slowly
and patted the arm of his chair, "nevertheless the church insists that
certain vitally important truths have to be conveyed, certain mortal
errors are best guarded against, by these symbols."
"You admit they are symbols."
"So the church has always called them."
Hoppart showed by a little movement and grimace that he thought the
bishop quibbled.
"In every sense of the word," the bishop hastened to explain, "the
creeds are symbolical. It is clear they seek to express ineffable things
by at least an extended use of familiar words. I suppose we are all
agreed nowadays that when we speak of the Father and of the Son we mean
something only in a very remote and exalted way parallel with--with
biological fatherhood and sonship."
Lady Sunderbund nodded eagerly. "Yes," she said, "oh, yes," and held up
an expectant face for more.
"Our utmost words, our most elaborately phrased creeds, can at the best
be no better than the shadow of something unseen thrown upon the screen
of experience."
He raised his rather weary eyes to Hoppart as if he would know what else
needed explanation. He was gratified by Lady Sunderbund's approval, but
he affected not to see or hear it. But it was Bent who spoke.
He spoke in the most casual way. He made the thing seem the most
incidental of observations.
"What puzzles me," he said, "is why the early Christians identified the
Spermaticos Logos of the Stoics with the second and not with the third
person of the Trinity."
To which the bishop, rising artlessly to the bait, replied, "Ah! that
indeed is the unfortunate aspect of the whole affair."
And then the Irish Catholic came down on him....
(3)
How the bishop awakened in the night after this dispute has been
told already in the opening section of this story. To that night of
discomfort we now return after this comprehensive digression. He
awoke from nightmares of eyes and triangles to bottomless remorse and
perplexity. For the first time he fully measured the vast distances
he had travelled from the beliefs and attitudes of his early training,
since his coming to Princhester. Travelled--or rather slipped and fallen
down the long slopes of doubt.
That clear inky dimness that comes before dawn found his white face at
the window looking out upon the great terrace and the park.
(4)
After a bout of mental distress and sleeplessness the bishop would
sometimes wake in the morning not so much exhausted as in a state of
thin mental and bodily activity. This was more particularly so if the
night had produced anything in the nature of a purpose. So it was
on this occasion. The day was clear before him; at least it could be
cleared by sending three telegrams; his man could go back to Princhester
and so leave him perfectly free to go to Brighton-Pomfrey in London and
secure that friendly dispensation to smoke again which seemed the only
alternative to a serious mental breakdown. He would take his bag, stay
the night in London, smoke, sleep well, and return the next morning.
Dunk, his valet-butler, found him already bathed and ready for a cup of
tea and a Bradshaw at half-past seven. He went on dressing although the
good train for London did not start until 10.45.
Mrs. Garstein Fellows was by nature and principle a late riser; the
breakfast-room showed small promise yet of the repast, though the table
was set and bright with silver and fresh flowers, and a wood fire popped
and spurted to greet and encourage the March sunshine. But standing in
the doorway that led to the promise and daffodils and crocuses of Mrs.
Garstein Fellows' garden stood Lady Sunderbund, almost with an effect
of waiting, and she greeted the bishop very cheerfully, doubted the
immediate appearance of any one else, and led him in the most natural
manner into the new but already very pleasant shrubbery.
In some indefinable special way the bishop had been aware of Lady
Sunderbund's presence since first he had met her, but it was only now
that he could observe her with any particularity. She was tall like his
own Lady Ella but not calm and quiet; she was electric, her eyes, her
smiles, her complexion had as it were an established brightness that
exceeded the common lustre of things. This morning she was dressed in
grey that was nevertheless not grey but had an effect of colour, and
there was a thread of black along the lines of her body and a gleam of
gold. She carried her head back with less dignity than pride; there was
a little frozen movement in her dark hair as if it flamed up out of her
head. There were silver ornaments in her hair. She spoke with a pretty
little weakness of the r's that had probably been acquired abroad. And
she lost no time in telling him, she was eager to tell him, that she had
been waylaying him. "I did so want to talk to you some maw," she said.
"I was shy last night and they we' all so noisy and eaga'. I p'ayed that
you might come down early.
"It's an oppo'tunity I've longed for," she said.
She did her very pretty best to convey what it was had been troubling
her. 'iligion bad been worrying her for years. Life was--oh--just
ornaments and games and so wea'isome, so wea'isome, unless it was
'iligious. And she couldn't get it 'iligious.
The bishop nodded his head gravely.
"You unde'stand?" she pressed.
"I understand too well--the attempt to get hold--and keep hold."
"I knew you would!" she cried.
She went on with an impulsive rapidity. O'thodoxy had always 'ipelled
her,--always. She had felt herself confronted by the most insurmountable
difficulties, and yet whenever she had gone away from Christianity--she
had gone away from Christianity, to the Theosophists and the Christian
Scientists--she had felt she was only "st'aying fu'tha." And then
suddenly when he was speaking last night, she had felt he knew. It was
so wonderful to hear the "k'eed was only a symbol."
"Symbol is the proper name for it," said the bishop. "It wasn't for
centuries it was called the Creed."
Yes, and so what it really meant was something quite different from what
it did mean.
The bishop felt that this sentence also was only a symbol, and nodded
encouragingly--but gravely, warily.
And there she was, and the point was there were thousands and thousands
and thousands of educated people like her who were dying to get through
these old-fashioned symbols to the true faith that lay behind them. That
they knew lay behind them. She didn't know if he had read "The Light
under the Altar"?
"He's vicar of Wombash--in my diocese," said the bishop with restraint.
"It's wonde'ful stuff," said Lady Sunderbund. "It's spi'tually cold,
but it's intellectually wonde'ful. But we want that with spi'tuality. We
want it so badly. If some one--"
She became daring. She bit her under lip and flashed her spirit at him.
"If you--" she said and paused.
"Could think aloud," said the bishop.
"Yes," she said, nodding rapidly, and became breathless to hear.
It would certainly be an astonishing end to the Chasters difficulty if
the bishop went over to the heretic, the bishop reflected.
"My dear lady, I won't disguise," he began; "in fact I don't see how
I could, that for some years I have been growing more and more
discontented with some of our most fundamental formulae. But it's been
very largely a shapeless discontent--hitherto. I don't think I've said a
word to a single soul. No, not a word. You are the first person to
whom I've ever made the admission that even my feelings are at times
unorthodox."
She lit up marvellously at his words. "Go on," she whispered.
But she did not need to tell him to go on. Now that he had once broached
the casket of his reserves he was only too glad of a listener. He talked
as if they were intimate and loving friends, and so it seemed to both
of them they were. It was a wonderful release from a long and painful
solitude.
To certain types it is never quite clear what has happened to them until
they tell it. So that now the bishop, punctuated very prettily by
Lady Sunderbund, began to measure for the first time the extent of his
departure from the old innate convictions of Otteringham Rectory. He
said that it was strange to find doubt coming so late in life, but
perhaps it was only in recent years that his faith had been put to any
really severe tests. It had been sheltered and unchallenged.
"This fearful wa'," Lady Sunderbund interjected.
But Princhester had been a critical and trying change, and "The Light
under the Altar" case had ploughed him deeply. It was curious that
his doubts always seemed to have a double strand; there was a moral
objection based on the church's practical futility and an intellectual
strand subordinated to this which traced that futility largely to its
unconvincing formulae.
"And yet you know," said the bishop, "I find I can't go with Chasters.
He beats at the church; he treats her as though she were wrong. I feel
like a son, growing up, who finds his mother isn't quite so clear-spoken
nor quite so energetic as she seemed to be once. She's right, I feel
sure. I've never doubted her fundamental goodness."
"Yes," said Lady Sunderbund, very eagerly, "yes."
"And yet there's this futility.... You know, my dear lady, I don't
know what to do. One feels on the one hand, that here is a cloud of
witnesses, great men, sainted men, subtle men, figures permanently
historical, before whom one can do nothing but bow down in the utmost
humility, here is a great instrument and organization--what would the
world be without the witness of the church?--and on the other hand here
are our masses out of hand and hostile, our industrial leaders equally
hostile; there is a failure to grip, and that failure to grip is so
clearly traceable to the fact that our ideas are not modern ideas, that
when we come to profess our faith we find nothing in our mouths but
antiquated Alexandrian subtleties and phrases and ideas that may have
been quite alive, quite significant, quite adequate in Asia Minor or
Egypt, among men essentially orientals, fifteen hundred years ago, but
which now--"
He expressed just what they came to now by a gesture.
She echoed his gesture.
"Probably I'm not alone among my brethren," he went on, and then: "But
what is one to do?"
With her hands she acted her sense of his difficulty.
"One may be precipitate," he said. "There's a kind of loyalty and
discipline that requires one to keep the ranks until one's course of
action is perfectly clear. One owes so much to so many. One has to
consider how one may affect--oh! people one has never seen."
He was lugging things now into speech that so far had been scarcely
above the threshold of his conscious thought. He went on to discuss the
entire position of the disbelieving cleric. He discovered a fine point.
"If there was something else, an alternative, another religion, another
Church, to which one could go, the whole case would be different. But to
go from the church to nothingness isn't to go from falsehood to truth.
It's to go from truth, rather badly expressed, rather conservatively
hidden by its protections, truth in an antiquated costume, to the
blackest lie--in the world."
She took that point very brightly.
"One must hold fast to 'iligion," she said, and looked earnestly at him
and gripped fiercely, pink thumbs out, with her beautiful hands held up.
That was it, exactly. He too was gripping. But while on the outside the
Midianites of denial were prowling for these clinging souls, within
the camp they were assailed by a meticulous orthodoxy that was only too
eager to cast them forth. The bishop dwelt for a time upon the curious
fierceness orthodoxy would sometimes display. Nowadays atheism can be
civil, can be generous; it is orthodoxy that trails a scurrilous fringe.
"Who was that young man with a strong Irish accent--who contradicted me
so suddenly?" he asked.
"The dark young man?"
"The noisy young man."
"That was Mist' Pat'ick O'Go'man. He is a Kelt and all that. Spells
Pat'ick with eva so many letters. You know. They say he spends ouas and
ouas lea'ning E'se. He wo'ies about it. They all t'y to lea'n E'se, and
it wo'ies them and makes them hate England moa and moa."
"He is orthodox. He--is what I call orthodox to the ridiculous extent."
"'idiculous."
A deep-toned gong proclaimed breakfast over a square mile or so of
territory, and Lady Sunderbund turned about mechanically towards the
house. But they continued their discussion.
She started indeed a new topic. "Shall we eva, do 'ou think, have a new
'iligion--t'ua and betta?"
That was a revolutionary idea to him.
He was still fending it off from him when a gap in the shrubs brought
them within sight of the house and of Mrs. Garstein Fellows on the
portico waving a handkerchief and crying "Break-fast."
"I wish we could talk for houas," said Lady Sunderbund.
"I've been glad of this talk," said the bishop. "Very glad."
She lifted her soft abundant skirts and trotted briskly across the still
dewy lawn towards the house door. The bishop followed gravely and slowly
with his hands behind his back and an unusually peaceful expression upon
his face. He was thinking how rare and precious a thing it is to find
intelligent friendship in women. More particularly when they were
dazzlingly charming and pretty. It was strange, but this was really his
first woman friend. If, as he hoped, she became his friend.
Lady Sunderbund entered the breakfast room in a gusty abundance like
Botticelli's Primavera, and kissed Mrs. Garstein Fellows good-morning.
She exhaled a glowing happiness. "He is wondyful," she panted. "He is
most wondyful."
"Mr. Hidgeway Kelso?"
"No, the dee' bishop! I love him. Are those the little sausages I like?
May I take th'ee? I've been up houas."
The dee' bishop appeared in the sunlit doorway.
(5)
The bishop felt more contentment in the London train than he had felt
for many weeks. He had taken two decisive and relieving steps. One was
that he had stated his case to another human being, and that a very
charming and sympathetic human being, he was no longer a prey to a
current of secret and concealed thoughts running counter to all the
appearances of his outward life; and the other was that he was now
within an hour or so of Brighton-Pomfrey and a cigarette. He would lunch
on the train, get to London about two, take a taxi at once to the wise
old doctor, catch him over his coffee in a charitable and understanding
mood, and perhaps be smoking a cigarette publicly and honourably and
altogether satisfyingly before three.
So far as Brighton-Pomfrey's door this program was fulfilled without
a hitch. The day was fine and he had his taxi opened, and noted with a
patriotic satisfaction as he rattled through the streets, the glare of
the recruiting posters on every vacant piece of wall and the increasing
number of men in khaki in the streets. But at the door he had a
disappointment. Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey was away at the front--of all
places; he had gone for some weeks; would the bishop like to see Dr.
Dale?
The bishop hesitated. He had never set eyes on this Dr. Dale.
Indeed, he had never heard of Dr. Dale.
Seeing his old friend Brighton-Pomfrey and being gently and tactfully
told to do exactly what he was longing to do was one thing; facing some
strange doctor and going slowly and elaborately through the whole
story of his illness, his vow and his breakdown, and perhaps having his
reaction time tested and all sorts of stripping and soundings done, was
quite another. He was within an ace of turning away.
If he had turned away his whole subsequent life would have been
different. It was the very slightest thing in the world tipped the
beam. It was the thought that, after all, whatever inconvenience and
unpleasantness there might be in this interview, there was at the end of
it a very reasonable prospect of a restored and legitimate cigarette.
CHAPTER THE FIFTH - THE FIRST VISION
(1)
Dr. DALE exceeded the bishop's worst apprehensions. He was a lean, lank,
dark young man with long black hair and irregular, rather prolonged
features; his chin was right over to the left; he looked constantly at
the bishop's face with a distinctly sceptical grey eye; he could not
have looked harder if he had been a photographer or a portrait painter.
And his voice was harsh, and the bishop was particularly sensitive to
voices.
He began by understanding far too much of the bishop's illness, and he
insisted on various familiarities with the bishop's heart and tongue and
eye and knee that ruffled the bishop's soul.
"Brighton-Pomfrey talked of neurasthenia?" he asked. "That was his
diagnosis," said the bishop. "Neurasthenia," said the young man as
though he despised the word.
The bishop went on buttoning up his coat.
"You don't of course want to break your vows about drinking and
smoking," said the young man with the very faintest suggestion of
derision in his voice.
"Not if it can possibly be avoided," the bishop asserted. "Without a
loss, that is, of practical efficiency," he added. "For I have much to
do."
"I think that it is possible to keep your vow," said the young man,
and the bishop could have sworn at him. "I think we can manage that all
right."
(2)
The bishop sat at the table resting his arm upon it and awaiting the
next development of this unsatisfactory interview. He was on the verge
of asking as unpleasantly as possible when Brighton-Pomfrey would
return.
The young man stood upon Brighton-Pomfrey's hearth-rug and was evidently
contemplating dissertations.
"Of course," he said, as though he discussed a problem with himself,
"you must have some sort of comfort. You must get out of this state, one
way or another."
The bishop nodded assent. He had faint hopes of this young man's ideas
of comfort.
Dr. Dale reflected. Then he went off away from the question of comfort
altogether. "You see, the trouble in such a case as this is peculiarly
difficult to trace to its sources because it comes just upon the
border-line of bodily and mental things. You may take a drug or alter
your regimen and it disturbs your thoughts, you may take an idea and
it disturbs your health. It is easy enough to say, as some do, that all
ideas have a physical substratum; it is almost as easy to say with the
Christian Scientist that all bodily states are amenable to our ideas.
The truth doesn't, I think, follow the border between those opposite
opinions very exactly on either side. I can't, for instance, tell you to
go home and pray against these uncertainties and despairs, because it
is just these uncertainties and despairs that rob you of the power of
efficient prayer."
He did not seem to expect anything from the bishop.
"I don't see that because a case brings one suddenly right up against
the frontier of metaphysics, why a doctor should necessarily pull
up short at that, why one shouldn't go on into either metaphysics or
psychology if such an extension is necessary for the understanding of
the case. At any rate if you'll permit it in this consultation...."
"Go on," said the bishop, holding on to that promise of comfort. "The
best thing is to thrash out the case in your own way. And then come to
what is practical."
"What is really the matter here--the matter with you that is--is a
disorganization of your tests of reality. It's one of a group of states
hitherto confused. Neurasthenia, that comprehensive phrase--well, it is
one of the neurasthenias. Here, I confess, I begin to talk of work I am
doing, work still to be published, finished first and then published....
But I go off from the idea that every living being lives in a state
not differing essentially from a state of hallucination concerning the
things about it. Truth, essential truth, is hidden. Always. Of course
there must be a measure of truth in our working illusions, a working
measure of truth, or the creature would smash itself up and end itself,
but beyond that discretion of the fire and the pitfall lies a wide
margin of error about which we may be deceived for years. So long as it
doesn't matter, it doesn't matter. I don't know if I make myself clear."
"I follow you," said the bishop a little wearily, "I follow you.
Phenomena and noumena and so on and so on. Kant and so forth.
Pragmatism. Yes."
With a sigh.
"And all that," completed Dr. Dale in a voice that suggested mockery.
"But you see we grow into a way of life, we settle down among habits and
conventions, we say 'This is all right' and 'That is always so.' We
get more and more settled into our life as a whole and more and more
confident. Unless something happens to shake us out of our sphere of
illusion. That may be some violent contradictory fact, some accident,
or it may be some subtle change in one's health and nerves that makes
us feel doubtful. Or a change of habits. Or, as I believe, some subtle
quickening of the critical faculty. Then suddenly comes the feeling as
though we were lost in a strange world, as though we had never really
seen the world before."
He paused.
The bishop was reluctantly interested. "That does describe something--of
the mental side," he admitted. "I never believe in concealing my own
thoughts from an intelligent patient," said Dr. Dale, with a quiet
offensiveness. "That sort of thing belongs to the dark ages of the
'pothecary's art. I will tell you exactly my guesses and suppositions
about you. At the base of it all is a slight and subtle kidney trouble,
due I suggest to your going to Princhester and drinking the local
water--"
"But it's excellent water. They boast of it."
"By all the established tests. As a matter of fact many of our best
drinking waters have all sorts of unspecified qualities. Burton water,
for example, is radioactive by Beetham's standards up to the ninth
degree. But that is by the way. My theory about your case is that this
produced a change in your blood, that quickened your sensibilities and
your critical faculties just at a time when a good many bothers--I don't
of course know what they were, but I can, so to speak, see the marks all
over you--came into your life."
The bishop nodded.
"You were uprooted. You moved from house to house, and failed to get
that curled up safe feeling one has in a real home in any of them."
"If you saw the fireplaces and the general decoration of the new
palace!" admitted the bishop. "I had practically no control."
"That confirms me," said Dr. Dale. "Insomnia followed, and increased the
feeling of physical strangeness by increasing the bodily disturbance. I
suspect an intellectual disturbance."
He paused.
"There was," said the bishop.
"You were no longer at home anywhere. You were no longer at home in your
diocese, in your palace, in your body, in your convictions. And then
came the war. Quite apart from everything else the mind of the whole
world is suffering profoundly from the shock of this war--much more
than is generally admitted. One thing you did that you probably did not
observe yourself doing, you drank rather more at your meals, you smoked
a lot more. That was your natural and proper response to the shock."
"Ah!" said the bishop, and brightened up.
"It was remarked by Tolstoy, I think, that few intellectual men would
really tolerate the world as it is if it were not for smoking and
drinking. Even novelists have their moments of lucidity. Certainly these
things soothe the restlessness in men's minds, deaden their sceptical
sensibilities. And just at the time when you were getting most
dislodged--you gave them up."
"And the sooner I go back to them the better," said the bishop brightly.
"I quite see that."
"I wouldn't say that," said Dr. Dale....
(3)
"That," said Dr. Dale, "is just where my treatment of this case differs
from the treatment of "--he spoke the name reluctantly as if he disliked
the mere sound of it--"Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey."
"Hitherto, of course," said the bishop, "I've been in his hands."
"He," said Dr. Dale, "would certainly set about trying to restore your
old sphere of illusion, your old familiar sensations and ideas and
confidences. He would in fact turn you back. He would restore all your
habits. He would order you a rest. He would send you off to some holiday
resort, fresh in fact but familiar in character, the High lands, North
Italy, or Switzerland for example. He would forbid you newspapers and
order you to botanize and prescribe tranquillizing reading; Trollope's
novels, the Life of Gladstone, the works of Mr. A. C. Benson, memoirs
and so on. You'd go somewhere where there was a good Anglican chaplain,
and you'd take some of the services yourself. And we'd wash out the
effects of the Princhester water with Contrexeville, and afterwards
put you on Salutaris or Perrier. I don't know whether I shouldn't have
inclined to some such treatment before the war began. Only--"
He paused.
"You think--?"
Dr. Dale's face betrayed a sudden sombre passion. "It won't do now," he
said in a voice of quiet intensity. "It won't do now."
He remained darkly silent for so long that at last the bishop spoke.
"Then what," he asked, "do you suggest?
"Suppose we don't try to go back," said Dr. Dale. "Suppose we go on and
go through."
"Where?"
"To reality.
"I know it's doubtful, I know it's dangerous," he went on, "but I am
convinced that now we can no longer keep men's minds and souls in these
feathered nests, these spheres of illusion. Behind these veils there is
either God or the Darkness.... Why should we not go on?"
The bishop was profoundly perplexed. He heard himself speaking. "It
would be unworthy of my cloth," he was saying.
Dr. Dale completed the sentence: "to go back."
"Let me explain a little more," he said, "what I mean by 'going on.' I
think that this loosening of the ties of association that bind a man to
his everyday life and his everyday self is in nine cases out of ten a
loosening of the ties that bind him to everyday sanity. One common form
of this detachment is the form you have in those cases of people who
are found wandering unaware of their names, unaware of their places
of residence, lost altogether from themselves. They have not only lost
their sense of identity with themselves, but all the circumstances of
their lives have faded out of their minds like an idle story in a book
that has been read and put aside. I have looked into hundreds of such
cases. I don't think that loss of identity is a necessary thing; it's
just another side of the general weakening of the grip upon reality, a
kind of anaemia of the brain so that interest fades and fails. There
is no reason why you should forget a story because you do not believe
it--if your brain is strong enough to hold it. But if your brain is
tired and weak, then so soon as you lose faith in your records, your
mind is glad to let them go. When you see these lost identity people
that is always your first impression, a tired brain that has let go."
The bishop felt extremely like letting go.
"But how does this apply to my case?"
"I come to that," said Dr. Dale, holding up a long large hand. "What
if we treat this case of yours in a new way? What if we give you not
narcotics but stimulants and tonics? What if we so touch the blood that
we increase your sense of physical detachment while at the same time
feeding up your senses to a new and more vivid apprehension of things
about you?" He looked at his patient's hesitation and added: "You'd lose
all that craving feeling, that you fancy at present is just the need
of a smoke. The world might grow a trifle--transparent, but you'd keep
real. Instead of drugging oneself back to the old contentment--"
"You'd drug me on to the new," said the bishop.
"But just one word more!" said Dr. Dale. "Hear why I would do this! It
was easy and successful to rest and drug people back to their old states
of mind when the world wasn't changing, wasn't spinning round in the
wildest tornado of change that it has ever been in. But now--Where can
I send you for a rest? Where can I send you to get you out of sight and
hearing of the Catastrophe? Of course old Brighton-Pomfrey would go on
sending people away for rest and a nice little soothing change if the
Day of Judgment was coming in the sky and the earth was opening and the
sea was giving up its dead. He'd send 'em to the seaside. Such things as
that wouldn't shake his faith in the Channel crossing. My idea is that
it's not only right for you to go through with this, but that it's the
only thing to do. If you go right on and right through with these doubts
and intimations--"
He paused.
"You may die like a madman," he said, "but you won't die like a tame
rabbit."
(4)
The bishop sat reflecting. What fascinated and attracted him was the
ending of all the cravings and uneasinesses and restlessness that had
distressed his life for over four years; what deterred him was the
personality of this gaunt young man with his long grey face, his excited
manner, his shock of black hair. He wanted that tonic--with grave
misgivings. "If you think this tonic is the wiser course," he began.
"I'd give it you if you were my father," said Dr. Dale. "I've got
everything for it," he added.
"You mean you can make it up--without a prescription."
"I can't give you a prescription. The essence of it--It's a distillate I
have been trying. It isn't in the Pharmacopeia."
Again the bishop had a twinge of misgiving.
But in the end he succumbed. He didn't want to take the stuff, but also
he did not want to go without his promised comfort.
Presently Dale had given him a little phial--and was holding up to the
window a small medicine glass into which he was pouring very carefully
twenty drops of the precious fluid. "Take it only," he said, "when you
feel you must."
"It is the most golden of liquids," said the bishop, peering at it.
"When you want more I will make you more. Later of course, it will be
possible to write a prescription. Now add the water--so.
"It becomes opalescent. How beautifully the light plays in it!
"Take it."
The bishop dismissed his last discretion and drank.
"Well?" said Dr. Dale.
"I am still here," said the bishop, smiling, and feeling a joyous
tingling throughout his body. "It stirs me."
(5)
The bishop stood on the pavement outside Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey's house.
The massive door had closed behind him.
It had been an act of courage, of rashness if you will, to take this
draught. He was acutely introspective, ready for anything, for the most
disagreeable or the most bizarre sensations. He was asking himself, Were
his feet steady? Was his head swimming?
His doubts glowed into assurance.
Suddenly he perceived that he was sure of God.
Not perhaps of the God of Nicaea, but what did these poor little
quibblings and definitions of the theologians matter? He had been
worrying about these definitions and quibblings for four long restless
years. Now they were just failures to express--what surely every one
knew--and no one would ever express exactly. Because here was God, and
the kingdom of God was manifestly at hand. The visible world hung before
him as a mist might hang before the rising sun. He stood proudly and
masterfully facing a universe that had heretofore bullied him into doubt
and apologetics, a universe that had hitherto been opaque and was now
betrayed translucent.
That was the first effect of the new tonic, complete reassurance,
complete courage. He turned to walk towards Mount Street and Berkeley
Square as a sultan might turn to walk among his slaves.
But the tonic was only beginning.
Before he had gone a dozen steps he was aware that he seemed more solid
and larger than the people about him. They had all a curious miniature
effect, as though he was looking at them through the wrong end of an
opera glass. The houses on either side of the street and the traffic
shared this quality in an equal measure. It was as if he was looking at
the world through apertures in a miniature cinematograph peep-show. This
surprised him and a little dashed his first glow of satisfaction.
He passed a man in khaki who, he fancied, looked at him with an odd
expression. He observed the next passers-by narrowly and suspiciously, a
couple of smartish young men, a lady with a poodle, a grocer's boy with
a basket, but none seemed to observe anything remarkable about him. Then
he caught the eye of a taxi-driver and became doubtful again.
He had a feeling that this tonic was still coming in like a tide. It
seemed to be filling him and distending him, in spite of the fact that
he was already full. After four years of flaccidity it was pleasant to
be distended again, but already he felt more filled than he had ever
been before. At present nothing was showing, but all his body seemed
braced and uplifted. He must be careful not to become inflated in his
bearing.
And yet it was difficult not to betray a little inflation. He was so
filled with assurance that things were right with him and that God was
there with him. After all it was not mere fancy; he was looking through
the peepholes of his eyes at the world of illusion and appearance. The
world that was so intent upon its immediate business, so regardless of
eternal things, that had so dominated him but a little while ago, was
after all a thing more mortal than himself.
Another man in khaki passed him.
For the first time he saw the war as something measurable, as something
with a beginning and an end, as something less than the immortal spirit
in man. He had been too much oppressed by it. He perceived all these
people in the street were too much oppressed by it. He wanted to tell
them as much, tell them that all was well with them, bid them be of good
cheer. He wanted to bless them. He found his arm floating up towards
gestures of benediction. Self-control became increasingly difficult.
All the way down Berkeley Square the bishop was in full-bodied struggle
with himself. He was trying to control himself, trying to keep within
bounds. He felt that he was stepping too high, that his feet were not
properly reaching the ground, that he was walking upon cushions of air.
The feeling of largeness increased, and the feeling of transparency in
things about him. He avoided collision with passers-by--excessively. And
he felt his attention was being drawn more and more to something that
was going on beyond the veil of visible things. He was in Piccadilly
now, but at the same time Piccadilly was very small and he was walking
in the presence of God.
He had a feeling that God was there though he could not see him. And at
the same time he was in this transitory world, with people going to and
fro, men with umbrellas tucked dangerously under their arms, men in a
hurry, policemen, young women rattling Red Cross collecting boxes, smart
people, loafers. They distracted one from God.
He set out to cross the road just opposite Prince's, and jumping
needlessly to give way to an omnibus had the narrowest escape from a
taxicab.
He paused on the pavement edge to recover himself. The shock of his near
escape had, as people say, pulled him together.
What was he to do? Manifestly this opalescent draught was overpowering
him. He ought never to have taken it. He ought to have listened to the
voice of his misgivings. It was clear that he was not in a fit state to
walk about the streets. He was--what had been Dr. Dale's term?--losing
his sense of reality. What was he to do? He was alarmed but not
dismayed. His thoughts were as full-bodied as the rest of his being,
they came throbbing and bumping into his mind. What was he to do?
Brighton-Pomfrey ought never to have left his practice in the hands of
this wild-eyed experimenter.
Strange that after a lifetime of discretion and men's respect one should
be standing on the Piccadilly pavement--intoxicated!
It came into his head that he was not so very far from the Athenaeum,
and surely there if anywhere a bishop may recover his sense of
being--ordinary.
And behind everything, behind the tall buildings and the swarming people
there was still the sense of a wide illuminated space, of a light of
wonder and a Presence. But he must not give way to that again! He had
already given way altogether too much. He repeated to himself in a
whisper, "I am in Piccadilly."
If he kept tight hold upon himself he felt he might get to the Athenaeum
before--before anything more happened.
He murmured directions to himself. "Keep along the pavement. Turn to
the right at the Circus. Now down the hill. Easily down the hill. Don't
float! Junior Army and Navy Stores. And the bookseller."
And presently he had a doubt of his name and began to repeat it.
"Edward Princhester. Edward Scrope, Lord Bishop of Princhester."
And all the while voices within him were asserting, "You are in the
kingdom of Heaven. You are in the presence of God. Place and time are a
texture of illusion and dreamland. Even now, you are with God."
(6)
The porter of the Athenaeum saw him come in, looking well--flushed
indeed--but queer in expression; his blue eyes were wide open and
unusually vague and blue.
He wandered across towards the dining-room, hesitated, went to look at
the news, seemed in doubt whether he would not go into the smoking-room,
and then went very slowly upstairs, past the golden angel up to the
great drawing-room.
In the drawing-room he found only Sir James Mounce, the man who knew
the novels of Sir Walter Scott by heart and had the minutest and most
unsparing knowledge of every detail in the life of that supreme giant of
English literature. He had even, it was said, acquired a Scotch burr in
the enthusiasm of his hero-worship. It was usually sufficient only to
turn an ear towards him for him to talk for an hour or so. He was now
studying Bradshaw.
The bishop snatched at him desperately. He felt that if he went away
there would be no hold left upon the ordinary things of life.
"Sir James," he said, "I was wondering the other day when was the exact
date of the earliest public ascription of Waverley to Scott."
"Eh!" said Sir James, "but I'd like to talk that over with ye. Indeed
I would. It would be depending very largely on what ye called 'public.'
But--"
He explained something about an engagement in Birmingham that night, a
train to catch. Reluctantly but relentlessly he abandoned the proffered
ear. But he promised that the next time they met in the club he would go
into the matter "exhausteevely."
The door closed upon him. The bishop was alone. He was flooded with
the light of the world that is beyond this world. The things about him
became very small and indistinct.
He would take himself into a quiet corner in the library of this doll's
house, and sit his little body down in one of the miniature armchairs.
Then if he was going to faint or if the trancelike feeling was to become
altogether a trance--well, a bishop asleep in an armchair in the library
of the Athenaeum is nothing to startle any one.
He thought of that convenient hidden room, the North Library, in which
is the bust of Croker. There often one can be quite alone.... It was
empty, and he went across to the window that looks out upon Pall Mall
and sat down in the little uncomfortable easy chair by the desk with its
back to the Benvenuto Cellini.
And as he sat down, something snapped--like the snapping of a lute
string--in his brain.
(7)
With a sigh of deep relief the bishop realized that this world had
vanished.
He was in a golden light.
He perceived it as a place, but it was a place without buildings or
trees or any very definite features. There was a cloudy suggestion of
distant hills, and beneath his feet were little gem-like flowers, and
a feeling of divinity and infinite friendliness pervaded his being. His
impressions grew more definite. His feet seemed to be bare. He was no
longer a bishop nor clad as a bishop. That had gone with the rest of the
world. He was seated on a slab of starry rock.
This he knew quite clearly was the place of God.
He was unable to disentangle thoughts from words. He seemed to be
speaking in his mind.
"I have been very foolish and confused and perplexed. I have been like a
creature caught among thorns."
"You served the purpose of God among those thorns." It seemed to him at
first that the answer also was among his thoughts.
"I seemed so silly and so little. My wits were clay."
"Clay full of desires."
"Such desires!"
"Blind desires. That will presently come to the light."
"Shall we come to the light?"
"But here it is, and you see it!"
(8)
It became clearer in the mind of the bishop that a figure sat beside
him, a figure of great strength and beauty, with a smiling face and
kindly eyes. A strange thought and a strange courage came to the bishop.
"Tell me," he whispered, "are you God?"
"I am the Angel of God."
The bishop thought over that for some moments.
"I want," he said, "to know about God.
"I want," he said, with a deepening passion of the soul, "to know about
God. Slowly through four long years I have been awakening to the need
of God. Body and soul I am sick for the want of God and the knowledge of
God. I did not know what was the matter with me, why my life had become
so disordered and confused that my very appetites and habits are all
astray. But I am perishing for God as a waterless man upon a raft
perishes for drink, and there is nothing but madness if I touch the seas
about me. Not only in my thoughts but in my under thoughts and in my
nerves and bones and arteries I have need of God. You see I grew up in
the delusion that I knew God, I did not know that I was unprovisioned
and unprovided against the tests and strains and hardships of life. I
thought that I was secure and safe. I was told that we men--who were
apes not a quarter of a million years ago, who still have hair upon
our arms and ape's teeth in our jaws--had come to the full and perfect
knowledge of God. It was all put into a creed. Not a word of it was to
be altered, not a sentence was to be doubted any more. They made me a
teacher of this creed. They seemed to explain it to me. And when I came
to look into it, when my need came and I turned to my creed, it was old
and shrivelled up, it was the patched-up speculations of vanished Greeks
and Egyptians, it was a mummy of ancient disputes, old and dry, that
fell to dust as I unwrapped it. And I was dressed up in the dress of old
dead times and put before an altar of forgotten sacrifices, and I went
through ceremonies as old as the first seedtime; and suddenly I knew
clearly that God was not there, God was not in my Creed, not in my
cathedral, not in my ceremonies, nowhere in my life. And at the same
time I knew, I knew as I had never known before, that certainly there
was God."
He paused. "Tell me," said the friend at his side; "tell me."
"It was as if a child running beside its mother, looked up and saw that
he had never seen her face before, that she was not his mother, and that
the words he had seemed to understand were--now that he listened--words
in an unknown tongue.
"You see, I am but a common sort of man, dear God; I have neither lived
nor thought in any way greatly, I have gone from one day to the next day
without looking very much farther than the end of the day, I have gone
on as life has befallen; if no great trouble had come into my life, so
I should have lived to the end of my days. But life which began for me
easily and safely has become constantly more difficult and strange.
I could have held my services and given my benedictions, I could have
believed I believed in what I thought I believed.... But now I am lost
and astray--crying out for God...."
(9)
"Let us talk a little about your troubles," said the Angel. "Let us talk
about God and this creed that worries you and this church of yours."
"I feel as though I had been struggling to this talk through all the
years--since my doubts began."
"The story your Creed is trying to tell is much the same story that
all religions try to tell. In your heart there is God, beyond the stars
there is God. Is it the same God?"
"I don't know," said the bishop.
"Does any one know?"
"I thought I knew."
"Your creed is full of Levantine phrases and images, full of the patched
contradictions of the human intelligence utterly puzzled. It is about
those two Gods, the God beyond the stars and the God in your heart. It
says that they are the same God, but different. It says that they have
existed together for all time, and that one is the Son of the other. It
has added a third Person--but we won't go into that."
The bishop was reminded suddenly of the dispute at Mrs. Garstein
Fellows'. "We won't go into that," he agreed. "No!"
"Other religions have told the story in a different way. The Cathars and
Gnostics did. They said that the God in your heart is a rebel against
the God beyond the stars, that the Christ in your heart is like
Prometheus--or Hiawatha--or any other of the sacrificial gods, a rebel.
He arises out of man. He rebels against that high God of the stars and
crystals and poisons and monsters and of the dead emptiness of space....
The Manicheans and the Persians made out our God to be fighting
eternally against that Being of silence and darkness beyond the stars.
The Buddhists made the Lord Buddha the leader of men out of the futility
and confusion of material existence to the great peace beyond. But it is
all one story really, the story of the two essential Beings, always the
same story and the same perplexity cropping up under different names,
the story of one being who stirs us, calls to us, and leads us, and
of another who is above and outside and in and beneath all things,
inaccessible and incomprehensible. All these religions are trying to
tell something they do not clearly know--of a relationship between these
two, that eludes them, that eludes the human mind, as water escapes from
the hand. It is unity and opposition they have to declare at the same
time; it is agreement and propitiation, it is infinity and effort."
"And the truth?" said the bishop in an eager whisper. "You can tell me
the truth."
The Angel's answer was a gross familiarity. He thrust his hand through
the bishop's hair and ruffled it affectionately, and rested for a moment
holding the bishop's cranium in his great palm.
"But can this hold it?" he said....
"Not with this little box of brains," said the Angel. "You could as soon
make a meal of the stars and pack them into your belly. You haven't the
things to do it with inside this."
He gave the bishop's head a little shake and relinquished it.
He began to argue as an elder brother might.
"Isn't it enough for you to know something of the God that comes down to
the human scale, who has been born on your planet and arisen out of Man,
who is Man and God, your leader? He's more than enough to fill your mind
and use up every faculty of your being. He is courage, he is adventure,
he is the King, he fights for you and with you against death...."
"And he is not infinite? He is not the Creator?" asked the bishop.
"So far as you are concerned, no," said the Angel.
"So far as I am concerned?"
"What have you to do with creation?"
And at that question it seemed that a great hand swept carelessly across
the blackness of the farther sky, and smeared it with stars and suns and
shining nebulas as a brush might smear dry paint across a canvas.
The bishop stared in front of him. Then slowly he bowed his head, and
covered his face with his hands.
"And I have been in orders," he murmured; "I have been teaching people
the only orthodox and perfect truth about these things for seven and
twenty years."
And suddenly he was back in his gaiters and his apron and his shovel
hat, a little black figure exceedingly small in a very great space....
(10)
It was a very great space indeed because it was all space, and the roof
was the ebony of limitless space from which the stars swung flaming,
held by invisible ties, and the soil beneath his feet was a dust of
atoms and the little beginnings of life. And long before the bishop
bared his face again, he knew that he was to see his God.
He looked up slowly, fearing to be dazzled.
But he was not dazzled. He knew that he saw only the likeness and
bodying forth of a being inconceivable, of One who is greater than the
earth and stars and yet no greater than a man. He saw a being for ever
young, for ever beginning, for ever triumphant. The quality and texture
of this being was a warm and living light like the effulgence at
sunrise; He was hope and courage like a sunlit morning in spring. He
was adventure for ever, and His courage and adventure flowed into and
submerged and possessed the being of the man who beheld him. And this
presence of God stood over the bishop, and seemed to speak to him in a
wordless speech.
He bade him surrender himself. He bade him come out upon the Adventure
of Life, the great Adventure of the earth that will make the atoms our
bond-slaves and subdue the stars, that will build up the white fires of
ecstasy to submerge pain for ever, that will overcome death. In Him
the spirit of creation had become incarnate, had joined itself to men,
summoning men to Him, having need of them, having need of them, having
need of their service, even as great kings and generals and leaders need
and use men. For a moment, for an endless age, the bishop bowed himself
in the being and glory of God, felt the glow of the divine courage and
confidence in his marrow, felt himself one with God.
For a timeless interval....
Never had the bishop had so intense a sense of reality. It seemed that
never before had he known anything real. He knew certainly that God was
his King and master, and that his unworthy service could be acceptable
to God. His mind embraced that idea with an absolute conviction that was
also absolute happiness.
(11)
The thoughts and sensations of the bishop seemed to have lifted for
a time clean away from the condition of time, and then through a vast
orbit to be returning to that limitation.
He was aware presently that things were changing, that the light was
losing its diviner rays, that in some indescribable manner the glory and
the assurance diminished.
The onset of the new phase was by imperceptible degrees. From a glowing,
serene, and static realization of God, everything relapsed towards
change and activity. He was in time again and things were happening, it
was as if the quicksands of time poured by him, and it was as if God
was passing away from him. He fell swiftly down from the heaven
of self-forgetfulness to a grotesque, pathetic and earthly
self-consciousness.
He became acutely aware of his episcopal livery. And that God was
passing away from him.
It was as if God was passing, and as if the bishop was unable to rise up
and follow him.
Then it was as if God had passed, and as if the bishop was in headlong
pursuit of him and in a great terror lest he should be left behind. And
he was surely being left behind.
He discovered that in some unaccountable way his gaiters were loose;
most of their buttons seemed to have flown off, and his episcopal
sash had slipped down about his feet. He was sorely impeded. He kept
snatching at these things as he ran, in clumsy attempts to get them off.
At last he had to stop altogether and kneel down and fumble with the
last obstinate button.
"Oh God!" he cried, "God my captain! Wait for me! Be patient with me!"
And as he did so God turned back and reached out his hand. It was indeed
as if he stood and smiled. He stood and smiled as a kind man might do;
he dazzled and blinded his worshipper, and yet it was manifest that he
had a hand a man might clasp.
Unspeakable love and joy irradiated the whole being of the bishop as he
seized God's hand and clasped it desperately with both his own. It was
as if his nerves and arteries and all his substance were inundated with
golden light....
It was again as if he merged with God and became God....
CHAPTER THE SIXTH - EXEGETICAL
(1)
WITHOUT any sense of transition the bishop found himself seated in the
little North Library of the Athenaeum club and staring at the bust of
John Wilson Croker. He was sitting motionless and musing deeply. He was
questioning with a cool and steady mind whether he had seen a vision
or whether he had had a dream. If it had been a dream it had been an
extraordinarily vivid and convincing dream. He still seemed to be in the
presence of God, and it perplexed him not at all that he should also
be in the presence of Croker. The feeling of mental rottenness and
insecurity that had weakened his thought through the period of his
illness, had gone. He was secure again within himself.
It did not seem to matter fundamentally whether it was an experience of
things without or of things within him that had happened to him. It was
clear to him that much that he had seen was at most expressive, that
some was altogether symbolical. For example, there was that sudden
absurd realization of his sash and gaiters, and his perception of them
as encumbrances in his pursuit of God. But the setting and essential of
the whole thing remained in his mind neither expressive nor symbolical,
but as real and immediately perceived, and that was the presence and
kingship of God. God was still with him and about him and over him and
sustaining him. He was back again in his world and his ordinary life,
in his clothing and his body and his club, but God had been made and
remained altogether plain and manifest.
Whether an actual vision had made his conviction, or whether the
conviction of his own subconscious mind had made the dream, seemed but
a small matter beside the conviction that this was indeed the God he had
desired and the God who must rule his life.
"The stuff? The stuff had little to do with it. It just cleared my
head.... I have seen. I have seen really. I know."
(2)
For a long time as it seemed the bishop remained wrapped in clouds of
luminous meditation. Dream or vision it did not matter; the essential
thing was that he had made up his mind about God, he had found God.
Moreover, he perceived that his theological perplexities had gone. God
was higher and simpler and nearer than any theological God, than the
God of the Three Creeds. Those creeds lay about in his mind now like
garments flung aside, no trace nor suspicion of divinity sustained them
any longer. And now--Now he would go out into the world.
The little Library of the Athenaeum has no visible door. He went to the
book-masked entrance in the corner, and felt among the bookshelves
for the hidden latch. Then he paused, held by a curious thought. What
exactly was the intention of that symbolical struggle with his sash and
gaiters, and why had they impeded his pursuit of God?
To what particularly significant action was he going out?
The Three Creeds were like garments flung aside. But he was still
wearing the uniform of a priest in the service of those three creeds.
After a long interval he walked into the big reading-room. He ordered
some tea and dry toast and butter, and sat down very thoughtfully in a
corner. He was still sitting and thinking at half-past eight.
It may seem strange to the reader that this bishop who had been doubting
and criticizing the church and his system of beliefs for four long
years had never before faced the possibility of a severance from his
ecclesiastical dignity. But he had grown up in the church, his life had
been so entirely clerical and Anglican, that the widest separation he
had hitherto been able to imagine from this past had left him still a
bishop, heretical perhaps, innovating in the broadening of beliefs and
the liberalizing of practice, defensive even as Chasters was defensive,
but still with the palace and his dignities, differing in opinion rather
than in any tangible reality from his previous self. For a bishop,
disbelief in the Church is a far profounder scepticism than mere
disbelief in God. God is unseen, and in daily things unfelt; but
the Church is with the predestined bishop always. His concept of the
extremest possible departure from orthodoxy had been something that
Chasters had phrased as "a restatement of Christ." It was a new idea, an
idea that had come with an immense effect of severance and novelty, that
God could be other than the God of the Creed, could present himself
to the imagination as a figure totally unlike the white, gentle, and
compromising Redeemer of an Anglican's thought. That the bishop should
treat the whole teaching of the church and the church itself as wrong,
was an idea so new that it fell upon him now like a thunderbolt out of a
cloudless sky. But here, clear in his mind now, was a feeling, amounting
to conviction, that it was the purpose and gesture of the true God that
he should come right out of the church and all his professions.
And in the first glow of his vision he felt this gesture imperative. He
must step right out.... Whither? how? And when?
To begin with it seemed to him that an immediate renunciation was
demanded. But it was a momentous step. He wanted to think. And to go
on thinking. Rather than to act precipitately. Although the imperative
seemed absolute, some delaying and arresting instinct insisted that he
must "think" If he went back to Princhester, the everyday duties of
his position would confront him at once with an effect of a definite
challenge. He decided to take one of the Reform club bedrooms for two or
three days, and wire to Princhester that he was "unavoidably delayed in
town," without further explanations. Then perhaps this inhibitory force
would give way.
It did not, however, give way. His mind sat down for two days in a blank
amazement at the course before him, and at the end of that time this
reasonless and formless institution was as strong as ever. During that
time, except for some incidental exchanges at his clubs, he talked to no
one. At first he did not want to talk to any one. He remained mentally
and practically active, with a still intensely vivid sense that God,
the true God, stood watching him and waiting for him to follow. And to
follow meant slipping right out of all the world he had ever known.
To thrust his foot right over the edge of a cliff would scarcely have
demanded more from the bishop's store of resolution. He stood on the
very verge. The chief secretion of his mind was a shadowy experiment or
so in explanation of why he did not follow.
(3)
Insensibly the extreme vividness of his sense of God's nearness
decreased. But he still retained a persuasion of the reality of an
immediate listener waiting, and of the need of satisfying him.
On the third day he found his mind still further changed. He no longer
felt that God was in Pall Mall or St. James's Park, whither he
resorted to walk and muse. He felt now that God was somewhere about the
horizon....
He felt too no longer that he thought straight into the mind of God. He
thought now of what he would presently say to God. He turned over and
rehearsed phrases. With that came a desire to try them first on some
other hearer. And from that to the attentive head of Lady Sunderbund,
prettily bent towards him, was no great leap. She would understand,
if any one could understand, the great change that had happened in his
mind.
He found her address in the telephone book. She could be quite alone
to him if he wouldn't mind "just me." It was, he said, exactly what he
desired.
But when he got to her great airy flat overlooking Hyde Park, with its
Omega Workshop furniture and its arresting decoration, he was not so
sure whether this encounter was so exactly the thing he had desired as
he had supposed.
The world had become opaque and real again as he walked up St. James's
Street and past the Ritz. He had a feeling that he was taking an
afternoon off from God. The adventurous modernity of the room in which
he waited intensified that. One whole white wall was devoted to a small
picture by Wyndham Lewis. It was like a picture of an earthquake in a
city of aniline pink and grey and keen green cardboard, and he wished it
had never existed.
He turned his back upon it and stared out of the window over the trees
and greenery. The balcony was decorated with white and pink geraniums in
pots painted black and gold, and the railings of the balcony were black
and gold with crimson shape like squares wildly out of drawing.
Lady Sunderbund kept him waiting perhaps five minutes. Then she came
sailing in to him.
She was dressed in a way and moved across the room in a way that was
more reminiscent of Botticelli's Spring than ever--only with a kind
of superadded stiffish polonaise of lace--and he did not want to be
reminded of Botticelli's Spring or wonder why she had taken to stiff
lace polonaises. He did not enquire whether he had met Lady Sunderbund
to better advantage at Mrs. Garstein Fellows' or whether his memory had
overrated her or whether anything had happened to his standard of taste,
but his feeling now was decidedly one of disappointment, and all the
talk and self-examination he had promised himself seemed to wither and
hide away within him. For a time he talked of her view, and then
admired her room and its arrangement, which he thought really were quite
unbecomingly flippant and undignified for a room. Then came the black
tea-things on their orange tray, and he searched in his mind for small
talk to sustain their interview.
But he had already betrayed his disposition to "go on with our talk"
in his telephone enquiry, and Lady Sunderbund, perceiving his shyness,
began to make openings for him, at first just little hinting openings,
and then larger and larger ones, until at last one got him.
"I'm so glad," she said, "to see you again. I'm so glad to go on with
our talk. I've thought about it and thought about it."
She beamed at him happily.
"I've thought ova ev'y wo'd you said," she went on, when she had
finished conveying her pretty bliss to him. "I've been so helped by
thinking the k'eeds are symbols. And all you said. And I've felt time
after time, you couldn't stay whe' you we'. That what you we' saying to
me, would have to be said 'ight out."
That brought him in. He could not very well evade that opening without
incivility. After all he had asked to see her, and it was a foolish
thing to let little decorative accidentals put him off his friendly
purpose. A woman may have flower-pots painted gold with black checkers
and still be deeply understanding. He determined to tell her what was in
his mind. But he found something barred him from telling that he had
had an actual vision of God. It was as if that had been a private and
confidential meeting. It wasn't, he felt, for him either to boast a
privilege or tell others of things that God had not chosen to show them.
"Since I saw you," he said, "I have thought a great deal--of the subject
of our conversation."
"I have been t'ying to think," she said in a confirmatory tone, as if
she had co-operated.
"My faith in God grows," he said.
She glowed. Her lips fell apart. She flamed attention.
"But it grows less like the faith of the church, less and less. I was
born and trained in Anglicanism, and it is with a sort of astonishment I
find myself passing now out of every sort of Catholicism--seeing it from
the outside...."
"Just as one might see Buddhism," she supplied.
"And yet feeling nearer, infinitely nearer to God," he said.
"Yes," she panted; "yes."
"I thought if one went out, one went out just to doubt and darkness."
"And you don't?"
"No."
"You have gone at one step to a new 'iligion!"
He stared for a moment at the phrase.
"To religion," he said.
"It is so wondyful," she said, with her hands straight down upon the
couch upon which she was sitting, and leaning forward at him, so as to
seem almost as much out of drawing as a modern picture.
"It seems," he reflected; "--as if it were a natural thing."
She came back to earth very slowly. She turned to the tea-things with
hushed and solemn movements as though she administered a ceremony of
peculiar significance. The bishop too rose slowly out of the profundity
of his confession. "No sugar please," he said, arresting the lump in mid
air.
It was only when they were embarked upon cups of tea and had a little
refreshed themselves, that she carried the talk further.
"Does it mean that you must leave the church?" she asked.
"It seemed so at first," he said. "But now I do not know. I do not know
what I ought to do."
She awaited his next thought.
"It is as if one had lived in a room all one's life and thought it the
world--and then suddenly walked out through a door and discovered the
sea and the mountains and stars. So it was with me and the Anglican
Church. It seems so extraordinary now--and it would have seemed the
most natural thing a year ago--to think that I ever believed that the
Anglican Compromise was the final truth of religion, that nothing more
until the end of the world could ever be known that Cosmo Gordon Lang
did not know, that there could be no conception of God and his quality
that Randall Davidson did not possess."
He paused.
"I did," he said.
"I did," she responded with round blue eyes of wonder.
"At the utmost the Church of England is a tabernacle on a road."
"A 'oad that goes whe'?" she rhetorized.
"Exactly," said the bishop, and put down his cup.
"You see, my dear Lady Sunderbund," he resumed, "I am exactly in the
same position of that man at the door."
She quoted aptly and softly: "The wo'ld was all befo' them whe' to
choose."
He was struck by the aptness of the words.
"I feel I have to come right out into the bare truth. What exactly then
do I become? Do I lose my priestly function because I discover how great
God is? But what am I to do?"
He opened a new layer of his thoughts to her.
"There is a saying," he remarked, "once a priest, always a priest. I
cannot imagine myself as other than what I am."
"But o'thodox no maw," she said.
"Orthodox--self-satisfied, no longer. A priest who seeks, an exploring
priest."
"In a Chu'ch of P'og'ess and B'othe'hood," she carried him on.
"At any rate, in a progressive and learning church."
She flashed and glowed assent.
"I have been haunted," he said, "by those words spoken at Athens. 'Whom
therefore ye ignorantly worship, Him declare I unto you.' That comes
to me with an effect of--guidance is an old-fashioned word--shall I
say suggestion? To stand by the altar bearing strange names and ancient
symbols, speaking plainly to all mankind of the one true God--!"
(4)
He did not get much beyond this point at the time, though he remained
talking with Lady Sunderbund for nearly an hour longer. The rest was
merely a beating out of what had already been said. But insensibly she
renewed her original charm, and as he became accustomed to her he forgot
a certain artificiality in her manner and the extreme modernity of her
costume and furniture. She was a wonderful listener; nobody else could
have helped him to expression in quite the same way, and when he left
her he felt that now he was capable of stating his case in a coherent
and acceptable form to almost any intelligent hearer. He had a point of
view now that was no longer embarrassed by the immediate golden
presence of God; he was no longer dazzled nor ecstatic; his problem had
diminished to the scale of any other great human problem, to the scale
of political problems and problems of integrity and moral principle,
problems about which there is no such urgency as there is about a house
on fire, for example.
And now the desire for expression was running strong. He wanted to
state his situation; if he did not state he would have to act; and as he
walked back to the club dinner he turned over possible interlocutors
in his thoughts. Lord Rampound sat with him at dinner, and he came near
broaching the subject with him. But Lord Rampound that evening had
that morbid running of bluish legal anecdotes which is so common an
affliction with lawyers, and theology sinks and dies in that turbid
stream.
But as he lay in bed that night he thought of his old friend and helper
Bishop Likeman, and it was borne in upon him that he should consult him.
And this he did next day.
Since the days when the bishop had been only plain Mr. Scrope, the
youngest and most helpful of Likeman's historical band of curates, their
friendship had continued. Likeman had been a second father to him; in
particular his tact and helpfulness had shone during those days of doubt
and anxiety when dear old Queen Victoria, God's representative on earth,
had obstinately refused, at the eleventh hour, to make him a bishop. She
had those pigheaded fits, and she was touchy about the bishops. She had
liked Scrope on account of the excellence of his German pronunciation,
but she had been irritated by newspaper paragraphs--nobody could ever
find out who wrote them and nobody could ever find out who showed them
to the old lady--anticipating his elevation. She had gone very red
in the face and stiffened in the Guelphic manner whenever Scrope was
mentioned, and so a rich harvest of spiritual life had remained untilled
for some months. Likeman had brought her round.
It seemed arguable that Scrope owed some explanation to Likeman before
he came to any open breach with the Establishment.
He found Likeman perceptibly older and more shrivelled on account of the
war, but still as sweet and lucid and subtle as ever. His voice sounded
more than ever like a kind old woman's.
He sat buried in his cushions--for "nowadays I must save every scrap
of vitality"--and for a time contented himself with drawing out his
visitor's story.
Of course, one does not talk to Likeman of visions or intuitions. "I am
disturbed, I find myself getting out of touch;" that was the bishop's
tone.
Occasionally Likeman nodded slowly, as a physician might do at the
recital of familiar symptoms. "Yes," he said, "I have been through most
of this.... A little different in the inessentials.... How clear you
are!"
"You leave our stupid old Trinities--as I left them long ago," said old
Likeman, with his lean hand feeling and clawing at the arm of his chair.
"But--!"
The old man raised his hand and dropped it. "You go away from it
all--straight as a line. I did. You take the wings of the morning and
fly to the uttermost parts of the earth. And there you find--"
He held up a lean finger, and inclined it to tick off each point.
"Fate--which is God the Father, the Power of the Heart, which is God
the Son, and that Light which comes in upon us from the inaccessible
Godhead, which is God the Holy Spirit."
"But I know of no God the Holy Spirit, and Fate is not God at all. I
saw in my vision one sole God, uncrucified, militant--conquering and to
conquer."
Old Likeman stared. "You saw!"
The Bishop of Princhester had not meant to go so far. But he stuck to
his words. "As if I saw with my eyes. A God of light and courage."
"You have had visions, Scrope?"
"I seemed to see."
"No, you have just been dreaming dreams."
"But why should one not see?"
"See! The things of the spirit. These symbols as realities! These
metaphors as men walking!"
"You talk like an agnostic."
"We are all agnostics. Our creeds are expressions of ourselves and our
attitude and relationship to the unknown. The triune God is just the
form of our need and disposition. I have always assumed that you took
that for granted. Who has ever really seen or heard or felt God? God
is neither of the senses nor of the mind; he is of the soul. You are
realistic, you are materialistic...."
His voice expostulated.
The Bishop of Princhester reflected. The vision of God was far off
among his memories now, and difficult to recall. But he said at last: "I
believe there is a God and that he is as real a person as you or I. And
he is not the theological God we set out before the world."
"Personification," said Likeman. "In the eighteenth century they used to
draw beautiful female figures as Science and Mathematics. Young men have
loved Science--and Freedom--as Pygmalion loved Galatea. Have it so
if you will. Have a visible person for your Deity. But let me keep up
my--spirituality."
"Your spirituality seems as thin as a mist. Do you really
believe--anything?"
"Everything!" said Likeman emphatically, sitting up with a transitory
vigour. "Everything we two have ever professed together. I believe that
the creeds of my church do express all that can possibly be expressed in
the relationship of--That"--he made a comprehensive gesture with a twist
of his hand upon its wrist--"to the human soul. I believe that they
express it as well as the human mind can express it. Where they seem
to be contradictory or absurd, it is merely that the mystery is
paradoxical. I believe that the story of the Fall and of the Redemption
is a complete symbol, that to add to it or to subtract from it or to
alter it is to diminish its truth; if it seems incredible at this point
or that, then simply I admit my own mental defect. And I believe in our
Church, Scrope, as the embodied truth of religion, the divine instrument
in human affairs. I believe in the security of its tradition, in
the complete and entire soundness of its teaching, in its essential
authority and divinity."
He paused, and put his head a little on one side and smiled sweetly.
"And now can you say I do not believe?"
"But the historical Christ, the man Jesus?"
"A life may be a metaphor. Why not? Yes, I believe it all. All."
The Bishop of Princhester was staggered by this complete acceptance. "I
see you believe all you profess," he said, and remained for a moment or
so rallying his forces.
"Your vision--if it was a vision--I put it to you, was just some single
aspect of divinity," said Likeman. "We make a mistake in supposing that
Heresy has no truth in it. Most heresies are only a disproportionate
apprehension of some essential truth. Most heretics are men who have
suddenly caught a glimpse through the veil of some particular verity....
They are dazzled by that aspect. All the rest has vanished.... They are
obsessed. You are obsessed clearly by this discovery of the militancy of
God. God the Son--as Hero. And you want to go out to the simple worship
of that one aspect. You want to go out to a Dissenter's tent in the
wilderness, instead of staying in the Great Temple of the Ages."
Was that true?
For some moments it sounded true.
The Bishop of Princhester sat frowning and looking at that. Very far
away was the vision now of that golden Captain who bade him come. Then
at a thought the bishop smiled.
"The Great Temple of the Ages," he repeated. "But do you remember the
trouble we had when the little old Queen was so pigheaded?"
"Oh! I remember, I remember," said Likeman, smiling with unshaken
confidence. "Why not?"
"For sixty years all we bishops in what you call the Great Temple of
the Ages, were appointed and bullied and kept in our places by that
pink irascible bit of dignity. I remember how at the time I didn't dare
betray my boiling indignation even to you--I scarcely dared admit it to
myself...."
He paused.
"It doesn't matter at all," and old Likeman waved it aside.
"Not at all," he confirmed, waving again.
"I spoke of the whole church of Christ on earth," he went on.
"These things, these Victorias and Edwards and so on, are temporary
accidents--just as the severance of an Anglican from a Roman communion
and a Greek orthodox communion are temporary accidents. You will remark
that wise men in all ages have been able to surmount the difficulty of
these things. Why? Because they knew that in spite of all these splits
and irregularities and defacements--like the cracks and crannies and
lichens on a cathedral wall--the building held good, that it was shelter
and security. There is no other shelter and security. And so I come to
your problem. Suppose it is true that you have this incidental vision
of the militant aspect of God, and he isn't, as you see him now that
is,--he isn't like the Trinity, he isn't like the Creed, he doesn't seem
to be related to the Church, then comes the question, are you going out
for that? And whither do you go if you do go out? The Church remains. We
alter doctrines not by changing the words but by shifting the accent. We
can under-accentuate below the threshold of consciousness."
"But can we?"
"We do. Where's Hell now? Eighty years ago it warmed the whole Church.
It was--as some atheist or other put it the other day--the central
heating of the soul. But never mind that point now. Consider the
essential question, the question of breaking with the church. Ask
yourself, whither would you go? To become an oddity! A Dissenter. A
Negative. Self emasculated. The spirit that denies. You would just go
out. You would just cease to serve Religion. That would be all. You
wouldn't do anything. The Church would go on; everything else would go
on. Only you would be lost in the outer wilderness.
"But then--"
Old Likeman leant forward and pointed a bony finger. "Stay in the Church
and modify it. Bring this new light of yours to the altar."
There was a little pause.
"No man," the bishop thought aloud, "putteth new wine into old bottles."
Old Likeman began to speak and had a fit of coughing. "Some of these
texts--whuff, whuff--like a conjuror's hat--whuff--make 'em--fit
anything."
A man-servant appeared and handed a silver box of lozenges into which
the old bishop dipped with a trembling hand.
"Tricks of that sort," he said, "won't do, Scrope--among professionals.
"And besides," he was inspired; "true religion is old wine--as old as
the soul.
"You are a bishop in the Church of Christ on Earth," he summed it up.
"And you want to become a detached and wandering Ancient Mariner from
your shipwreck of faith with something to explain--that nobody wants to
hear. You are going out I suppose you have means?"
The old man awaited the answer to his abrupt enquiry with a handful of
lozenges.
"No," said the Bishop of Princhester, "practically--I haven't."
"My dear boy!" it was as if they were once more rector and curate.
"My dear brother! do you know what the value of an ex-bishop is in the
ordinary labour market?"
"I have never thought of that."
"Evidently. You have a wife and children?"
"Five daughters."
"And your wife married you--I remember, she married you soon after you
got that living in St. John's Wood. I suppose she took it for granted
that you were fixed in an ecclesiastical career. That was implicit in
the transaction."
"I haven't looked very much at that side of the matter yet," said the
Bishop of Princhester.
"It shouldn't be a decisive factor," said Bishop Likeman, "not decisive.
But it will weigh. It should weigh...."
The old man opened out fresh aspects of the case. His argument was for
delay, for deliberation. He went on to a wider set of considerations. A
man who has held the position of a bishop for some years is, he held, no
longer a free man in matters of opinion. He has become an official part
of a great edifice which supports the faith of multitudes of simple
and dependant believers. He has no right to indulge recklessly in
intellectual and moral integrities. He may understand, but how is the
flock to understand? He may get his own soul clear, but what will happen
to them? He will just break away their supports, astonish them, puzzle
them, distress them, deprive them of confidence, convince them of
nothing.
"Intellectual egotism may be as grave a sin," said Bishop Likeman, "as
physical selfishness.
"Assuming even that you are absolutely right," said Bishop Likeman,
"aren't you still rather in the position of a man who insists upon
Swedish exercises and a strengthening dietary on a raft?"
"I think you have made out a case for delay," said his hearer.
"Three months."
The Bishop of Princhester conceded three months.
"Including every sort of service. Because, after all, even supposing
it is damnable to repeat prayers and creeds you do not believe in, and
administer sacraments you think superstition, nobody can be damned
but yourself. On the other hand if you express doubts that are not yet
perfectly digested--you experiment with the souls of others...."
(5)
The bishop found much to ponder in his old friend's counsels. They were
discursive and many-fronted, and whenever he seemed to be penetrating or
defeating the particular considerations under examination the others
in the background had a way of appearing invincible. He had a strong
persuasion that Likeman was wrong--and unanswerable. And the true God
now was no more than the memory of a very vividly realized idea. It
was clear to the bishop that he was no longer a churchman or in the
generally accepted sense of the word a Christian, and that he was bound
to come out of the church. But all sense of urgency had gone. It was a
matter demanding deliberation and very great consideration for others.
He took no more of Dale's stuff because he felt bodily sound and slept
well. And he was now a little shy of this potent fluid. He went down
to Princhester the next day, for his compromise of an interval of three
months made it seem possible to face his episcopal routine again. It
was only when he was back in his own palace that the full weight of
his domestic responsibilities in the discussion of the course he had to
take, became apparent.
Lady Ella met him with affection and solicitude.
"I was tired and mentally fagged," he said. "A day or so in London had
an effect of change."
She agreed that he looked much better, and remained for a moment or so
scrutinizing him with the faint anxiety of one resolved to be completely
helpful.
He regarded her with a renewed sense of her grace and dignity and
kindliness. She was wearing a grey dress of soft silky material, touched
with blue and covered with what seemed to him very rich and beautiful
lace; her hair flowed back very graciously from her broad brow, and
about her wrist and neck were delicate lines of gold. She seemed
tremendously at home and right just where she was, in that big
hospitable room, cultured but Anglican, without pretensions or
novelties, with a glow of bound books, with the grand piano that Miriam,
his third daughter, was beginning to play so well, with the tea equipage
of shining silver and fine porcelain.
He sat down contentedly in the low armchair beside her.
It wasn't a setting that one would rashly destroy....
And that evening at dinner this sense of his home as a complex of finely
adjusted things not to be rashly disturbed was still more in the mind of
the bishop. At dinner he had all his domesticities about him. It was the
family time, from eight until ten, at which latter hour he would usually
go back from the drawing-room to his study. He surveyed the table.
Eleanor was at home for a few days, looking a little thin and bright
but very keen and happy. She had taken a first in the first part of
the Moral Science Tripos, and she was working hard now for part two.
Clementina was to go back to Newnham with her next September. She
aspired to history. Miriam's bent was musical. She and Phoebe and Daphne
and Clementina were under the care of skilful Mademoiselle Lafarge,
most tactful of Protestant French-women, Protestant and yet not too
Protestant, one of those rare French Protestants in whom a touch of
Bergson and the Pasteur Monod
"scarce suspected, animates the whole."
And also they had lessons, so high are our modern standards of
education, from Mr. Blent, a brilliant young mathematician in orders,
who sat now next to Lady Ella. Mr. Whippham, the chaplain, was at the
bishop's right hand, ready for any chance of making arrangements to
clear off the small arrears of duty the little holiday in London had
accumulated. The bishop surveyed all these bright young people between
himself and the calm beauty of his wife. He spoke first to one and then
another upon the things that interested them. It rejoiced his heart to
be able to give them education and opportunity, it pleased him to see
them in clothes that he knew were none the less expensive because of
their complete simplicity. Miriam and Mr. Blent wrangled pleasantly
about Debussy, and old Dunk waited as though in orders of some rare and
special sort that qualified him for this service.
All these people, the bishop reflected, counted upon him that this would
go on....
Eleanor was answering some question of her mother's. They were so oddly
alike and so curiously different, and both in their several ways so
fine. Eleanor was dark like his own mother. Perhaps she did a little
lack Lady Ella's fine reserves; she could express more, she could feel
more acutely, she might easily be very unhappy or very happy....
All these people counted on him. It was indeed acutely true, as Likeman
had said, that any sudden breach with his position would be a breach of
faith--so far as they were concerned.
And just then his eye fell upon the epergne, a very old and beautiful
piece of silver, that graced the dinner-table. It had been given him,
together with an episcopal ring, by his curates and choristers at the
Church of the Holy Innocents, when he became bishop of Pinner. When they
gave it him, had any one of them dreamt that some day he might be moved
to strike an ungracious blow at the mother church that had reared them
all?
It was his custom to join the family in the drawing-room after dinner.
To-night he was a little delayed by Whippham, with some trivialities
about next month's confirmations in Pringle and Princhester. When he
came in he found Miriam playing, and playing very beautifully one of
those later sonatas of Beethoven, he could never remember whether it
was Of. 109 or Of. 111, but he knew that he liked it very much; it
was solemn and sombre with phases of indescribable sweetness--while
Clementina, Daphne and Mademoiselle Lafarge went on with their war
knitting and Phoebe and Mr. Blent bent their brows over chess. Eleanor
was reading the evening paper. Lady Ella sat on a high chair by the
coffee things, and he stood in the doorway surveying the peaceful scene
for a moment or so, before he went across the room and sat down on the
couch close to her.
"You look tired," she whispered softly.
"Worries."
"That Chasters case?"
"Things developing out of that. I must tell you later." It would be, he
felt, a good way of breaking the matter to her.
"Is the Chasters case coming on again, Daddy?" asked Eleanor.
He nodded.
"It's a pity," she said.
"What?
"That he can't be left alone."
"It's Sir Reginald Phipps. The Church would be much more tolerant if
it wasn't for the House of Laymen. But they--they feel they must do
something."
He seized the opportunity of the music ceasing to get away from the
subject. "Miriam dear," he asked, raising his voice; "is that 109 or
111? I can never tell."
"That is always 111, Daddy," said Miriam. "It's the other one is 109."
And then evidently feeling that she had been pert: "Would you like me to
play you 109, Daddy?"
"I should love it, my dear." And he leant back and prepared to listen in
such a thorough way that Eleanor would have no chance of discussing the
Chasters' heresies. But this was interrupted by the consummation of the
coffee, and Mr. Blent, breaking a long silence with "Mate in three, if
I'm not mistaken," leapt to his feet to be of service. Eleanor, with the
rough seriousness of youth, would not leave the Chasters case alone.
"But need you take action against Mr. Chasters?" she asked at once.
"It's a very complicated subject, my dear," he said.
"His arguments?"
"The practical considerations."
"But what are practical considerations in such a case?"
"That's a post-graduate subject, Norah," her father said with a smile
and a sigh.
"But," began Eleanor, gathering fresh forces.
"Daddy is tired," Lady Ella intervened, patting him on the head.
"Oh, terribly!--of that," he said, and so escaped Eleanor for the
evening.
But he knew that before very long he would have to tell his wife of
the changes that hung over their lives; it would be shabby to let the
avalanche fall without giving the longest possible warning; and before
they parted that night he took her hands in his and said: "There is much
I have to tell you, dear. Things change, the whole world changes. The
church must not live in a dream....
"No," she whispered. "I hope you will sleep to-night," and held up her
grave sweet face to be kissed.
(6)
But he did not sleep perfectly that night.
He did not sleep indeed very badly, but he lay for some time thinking,
thinking not onward but as if he pressed his mind against very strong
barriers that had closed again. His vision of God which had filled the
heavens, had become now gem-like, a minute, hard, clear-cut conviction
in his mind that he had to disentangle himself from the enormous
complications of symbolism and statement and organization and
misunderstanding in the church and achieve again a simple and living
worship of a simple and living God. Likeman had puzzled and silenced
him, only upon reflection to convince him that amidst such intricacies
of explanation the spirit cannot live. Creeds may be symbolical, but
symbols must not prevaricate. A church that can symbolize everything and
anything means nothing.
It followed from this that he ought to leave the church. But there came
the other side of this perplexing situation. His feelings as he lay in
his bed were exactly like those one has in a dream when one wishes to
run or leap or shout and one can achieve no movement, no sound. He could
not conceive how he could possibly leave the church.
His wife became as it were the representative of all that held him
helpless. She and he had never kept secret from one another any plan of
action, any motive, that affected the other. It was clear to him that
any movement towards the disavowal of doctrinal Christianity and the
renunciation of his see must be first discussed with her. He must tell
her before he told the world.
And he could not imagine his telling her except as an incredibly
shattering act.
So he left things from day to day, and went about his episcopal
routines. He preached and delivered addresses in such phrases as he knew
people expected, and wondered profoundly why it was that it should be
impossible for him to discuss theological points with Lady Ella. And one
afternoon he went for a walk with Eleanor along the banks of the Prin,
and found himself, in response to certain openings of hers, talking to
her in almost exactly the same terms as Likeman had used to him.
Then suddenly the problem of this theological eclaircissement was
complicated in an unexpected fashion.
He had just been taking his Every Second Thursday Talk with Diocesan
Men Helpers. He had been trying to be plain and simple upon the needless
narrowness of enthusiastic laymen. He was still in the Bishop Andrews
cap and purple cassock he affected on these occasions; the Men Helpers
loved purple; and he was disentangling himself from two or three
resolute bores--for our loyal laymen can be at times quite superlative
bores--when Miriam came to him.
"Mummy says, 'Come to the drawing-room if you can.' There is a Lady
Sunderbund who seems particularly to want to see you."
He hesitated for a moment, and then decided that this was a conversation
he ought to control.
He found Lady Sunderbund looking very tall and radiantly beautiful in
a sheathlike dress of bright crimson trimmed with snow-white fur and a
white fur toque. She held out a long white-gloved hand to him and
cried in a tone of comradeship and profound understanding: "I've come,
Bishop!"
"You've come to see me?" he said without any sincerity in his polite
pleasure.
"I've come to P'inchesta to stay!" she cried with a bright triumphant
rising note.
She evidently considered Lady Ella a mere conversational stop-gap, to
be dropped now that the real business could be commenced. She turned
her pretty profile to that lady, and obliged the bishop with a compact
summary of all that had preceded his arrival. "I have been telling
Lady Ella," she said, "I've taken a house, fu'nitua and all! Hea.
In P'inchesta! I've made up my mind to sit unda you--as they say
in Clapham. I've come 'ight down he' fo' good. I've taken a little
house--oh! a sweet little house that will be all over 'oses next month.
I'm living f'om 'oom to 'oom and having the othas done up. It's in that
little quiet st'eet behind you' ga'den wall. And he' I am!"
"Is it the old doctor's house?" asked Lady Ella.
"Was it an old docta?" cried Lady Sunderbund. "How delightful! And now I
shall be a patient!"
She concentrated upon the bishop.
"Oh, I've been thinking all the time of all the things you told me. Ova
and ova. It's all so wondyful and so--so like a G'ate Daw opening. New
light. As if it was all just beginning."
She clasped her hands.
The bishop felt that there were a great number of points to this
situation, and that it was extremely difficult to grasp them all
at once. But one that seemed of supreme importance to his whirling
intelligence was that Lady Ella should not know that he had gone to
relieve his soul by talking to Lady Sunderbund in London. It had never
occurred to him at the time that there was any shadow of disloyalty to
Lady Ella in his going to Lady Sunderbund, but now he realized that this
was a thing that would annoy Lady Ella extremely. The conversation had
in the first place to be kept away from that. And in the second place it
had to be kept away from the abrupt exploitation of the new theological
developments.
He felt that something of the general tension would be relieved if they
could all three be got to sit down.
"I've been talking for just upon two hours," he said to Lady Ella. "It's
good to see the water boiling for tea."
He put a chair for Lady Sunderbund to the right of Lady Ella, got her
into it by infusing an ecclesiastical insistence into his manner, and
then went and sat upon the music-stool on his wife's left, so as to
establish a screen of tea-things and cakes and so forth against her more
intimate enthusiasm. Meanwhile he began to see his way clearer and to
develop his line.
"Well, Lady Sunderbund," he said, "I can assure you that I think you
will be no small addition to the church life of Princhester. But I warn
you this is a hard-working and exacting diocese. We shall take your
money, all we can get of it, we shall take your time, we shall work you
hard."
"Wo'k me hard!" cried Lady Sunderbund with passion.
"We will, we will," said the bishop in a tone that ignored her
passionate note.
"I am sure Lady Sunderbund will be a great help to us," said Lady Ella.
"We want brightening. There's a dinginess...."
Lady Sunderbund beamed an acknowledgment. "I shall exact a 'eturn," she
said. "I don't mind wo'king, but I shall wo'k like the poo' students in
the Middle Ages did, to get my teaching. I've got my own soul to save as
well as help saving othas. Since oua last talk--"
She found the bishop handing her bread and butter. For a time the bishop
fought a delaying action with the tea-things, while he sought eagerly
and vainly in his mind for some good practical topic in which he could
entangle and suppress Lady Sunderbund's enthusiasms. From this she broke
away by turning suddenly to Lady Ella.
"Youa husband's views," she said, "we'e a 'eal 'evelation to me. It was
like not being blind--all at once."
Lady Ella was always pleased to hear her husband praised. Her colour
brightened a little. "They seem very ordinary views," she said modestly.
"You share them?" cried Lady Sunderbund.
"But of course," said Lady Ella.
"Wondyful!" cried Lady Sunderbund.
"Tell me, Lady Sunderbund," said the bishop, "are you going to alter the
outer appearance of the old doctor's house?" And found that at last he
had discovered the saving topic.
"Ha'dly at all," she said. "I shall just have it pointed white and do
the doa--I'm not su' how I shall do the doa. Whetha I shall do the doa
gold or a vehy, vehy 'itch blue."
For a time she and Lady Ella, to whom these ideas were novel, discussed
the animation of grey and sombre towns by house painting. In such matter
Lady Sunderbund had a Russian mind. "I can't bea' g'ey," she said. "Not
in my su'oundings, not in my k'eed, nowhe'e." She turned to the bishop.
"If I had my way I would paint you' cathed'al inside and out."
"They used to be painted," said the bishop. "I don't know if you have
seen Ely. There the old painting has been largely restored...."
From that to the end there was no real danger, and at last the bishop
found himself alone with his wife again.
"Remarkable person," he said tentatively. "I never met any one whose
faults were more visible. I met her at Wimbush House."
He glanced at his watch.
"What did she mean," asked Lady Ella abruptly, "by talking of your new
views? And about revelations?"
"She probably misunderstood something I said at the Garstein Fellows',"
he said. "She has rather a leaping mind."
He turned to the window, looked at his nails, and appeared to be
suddenly reminded of duties elsewhere....
It was chiefly manifest to him that the difficulties in explaining the
changes of his outlook to Lady Ella had now increased enormously.
(7)
A day or so after Lady Sunderbund's arrival in Princhester the bishop
had a letter from Likeman. The old man was manifestly in doubt about the
effect of their recent conversation.
"My dear Scrope," it began. "I find myself thinking continually about
our interview and the difficulties you laid bare so frankly to me.
We touched upon many things in that talk, and I find myself full of
afterthoughts, and not perfectly sure either quite of what I said or
of what I failed to say. I feel that in many ways I was not perhaps so
clear and convincing as the justice of my case should have made me, and
you are one of my own particular little company, you were one of the
best workers in that band of good workers, your life and your career
are very much my concern. I know you will forgive me if I still mingle
something of the paternal with my fraternal admonitions. I watched you
closely. I have still my old diaries of the St. Matthew's days, and I
have been looking at them to remind me of what you once were. It was my
custom to note my early impressions of all the men who worked with me,
because I have a firm belief in the soundness of first impressions and
the considerable risk one runs of having them obscured by the accidents
and habituations of constant intercourse. I found that quite early in
your days at St. Matthew's I wrote against your name 'enthusiastic, but
a saving delicacy.' After all our life-long friendship I would not write
anything truer. I would say of you to-day, 'This man might have been a
revivalist, if he were not a gentleman.' There is the enthusiast,
there is the revivalist, in you. It seems to me that the stresses and
questions of this great crisis in the world's history have brought it
nearer to the surface than I had ever expected it to come.
"I quite understand and I sympathize with your impatience with
the church at the present time; we present a spectacle of pompous
insignificance hard to bear with. We are doing very little, and we are
giving ourselves preposterous airs. There seems to be an opinion abroad
that in some quasi-automatic way the country is going to collapse after
the war into the arms of the church and the High Tories; a possibility
I don't accept for a moment. Why should it? These forcible-feeble
reactionaries are much more likely to explode a revolution that
will disestablish us. And I quite understand your theological
difficulties--quite. The creeds, if their entire symbolism is for a
moment forgotten, if they are taken as opaque statements of fact, are
inconsistent, incredible. So incredible that no one believes them;
not even the most devout. The utmost they do is to avert their
minds--reverentially. Credo quia impossibile. That is offensive to a
Western mind. I can quite understand the disposition to cry out at such
things, 'This is not the Church of God!'--to run out from it--
"You have some dream, I suspect, of a dramatic dissidence.
"Now, my dear Brother and erstwhile pupil, I ask you not to do this
thing. Wait, I implore you. Give me--and some others, a little time. I
have your promise for three months, but even after that, I ask you
to wait. Let the reform come from within the church. The church is
something more than either its creeds, its clergy, or its laymen. Look
at your cathedral rising out of and dominating Princhester. It stands
not simply for Athanasius; it stands but incidentally for Athanasius; it
stands for all religion. Within that fabric--let me be as frank here
as in our private conversation--doctrine has altered again and again.
To-day two distinct religions worship there side by side; one that fades
and one that grows brighter. There is the old quasi-materialistic belief
of the barbarians, the belief in such things, for example, as that
Christ the physical Son of God descended into hell and stayed there,
seeing the sights I suppose like any tourist and being treated with
diplomatic civilities for three terrestrial days; and on the other
hand there is the truly spiritual belief that you and I share, which
is absolutely intolerant of such grotesque ideas. My argument to you
is that the new faith, the clearer vision, gains ground; that the
only thing that can prevent or delay the church from being altogether
possessed by what you call and I admit is, the true God, is that such
men as yourself, as the light breaks upon you, should be hasty and leave
the church. You see my point of view, do you not? It is not one that
has been assumed for our discussion; it is one I came to long years ago,
that I was already feeling my way to in my St. Matthew's Lenton sermons.
"A word for your private ear. I am working. I cannot tell you fully
because I am not working alone. But there are movements afoot in which
I hope very shortly to be able to ask you to share. That much at least I
may say at this stage. Obscure but very powerful influences are at
work for the liberalizing of the church, for release from many
narrow limitations, for the establishment of a modus vivendi with the
nonconformist and dissentient bodies in Britain and America, and with
the churches of the East. But of that no more now.
"And in conclusion, my dear Scrope, let me insist again upon the eternal
persistence of the essential Religious Fact:"
(Greek Letters Here)
(Rev. i. 18. "Fear not. I am the First and Last thing, the Living
thing.")
And these promises which, even if we are not to take them as promises in
the exact sense in which, let us say, the payment of five sovereigns
is promised by a five-pound note, are yet assertions of practically
inevitable veracity:
(Greek Letters Here)
(Phil. i. 6. "He who began... will perfect." Eph. v. 14. "He will
illuminate.")
The old man had written his Greek tags in shakily resolute capitals. It
was his custom always to quote the Greek Testament in his letters,
never the English version. It is a practice not uncommon with the more
scholarly of our bishops. It is as if some eminent scientific man were
to insist upon writing H2O instead of "water," and "sodium chloride"
instead of "table salt" in his private correspondence. Or upon hanging
up a stuffed crocodile in his hall to give the place tone. The Bishop
of Princhester construed these brief dicta without serious exertion, he
found them very congenial texts, but there were insuperable difficulties
in the problem why Likeman should suppose they had the slightest weight
upon his side of their discussion. The more he thought the less they
seemed to be on Likeman's side, until at last they began to take on a
complexion entirely opposed to the old man's insidious arguments, until
indeed they began to bear the extraordinary interpretation of a special
message, unwittingly delivered.
(8)
The bishop was still thinking over this communication when he was
interrupted by Lady Ella. She came with a letter in her hand to ask him
whether she might send five-and-twenty pounds to a poor cousin of his,
a teacher in a girls' school, who had been incapacitated from work by
a dislocation of the cartilage of her knee. If she could go to that
unorthodox but successful practitioner, Mr. Barker, the bone-setter, she
was convinced she could be restored to efficiency. But she had no ready
money. The bishop agreed without hesitation. His only doubt was the
certainty of the cure, but upon that point Lady Ella was convinced;
there had been a great experience in the Walshingham family.
"It is pleasant to be able to do things like this," said Lady Ella,
standing over him when this matter was settled.
"Yes," the bishop agreed; "it is pleasant to be in a position to do
things like this...."
CHAPTER THE SEVENTH - THE SECOND VISION
(1)
A MONTH later found the bishop's original state of perplexity and
insomnia returned and intensified. He had done none of all the things
that had seemed so manifestly needing to be done after his vision in the
Athenaeum. All the relief and benefit of his experience in London had
vanished out of his life. He was afraid of Dr. Dale's drug; he knew
certainly that it would precipitate matters; and all his instincts
in the state of moral enfeeblement to which he had relapsed, were to
temporize.
Although he had said nothing further about his changed beliefs to Lady
Ella, yet he perceived clearly that a shadow had fallen between them.
She had a wife's extreme sensitiveness to fine shades of expression and
bearing, and manifestly she knew that something was different. Meanwhile
Lady Sunderbund had become a frequent worshipper in the cathedral, she
was a figure as conspicuous in sombre Princhester as a bird of paradise
would have been; common people stood outside her very very rich blue
door on the chance of seeing her; she never missed an opportunity of
hearing the bishop preach or speak, she wrote him several long
and thoughtful letters with which he did not bother Lady Ella, she
communicated persistently, and manifestly intended to become a very
active worker in diocesan affairs.
It was inevitable that she and the bishop should meet and talk
occasionally in the cathedral precincts, and it was inevitable that he
should contrast the flexibility of her rapid and very responsive mind
with a certain defensiveness, a stoniness, in the intellectual bearing
of Lady Ella.
If it had been Lady Sunderbund he had had to explain to, instead of Lady
Ella, he could have explained a dozen times a day.
And since his mind was rehearsing explanations it was not unnatural they
should overflow into this eagerly receptive channel, and that the less
he told Lady Ella the fuller became his spiritual confidences to Lady
Sunderbund.
She was clever in realizing that they were confidences and treating them
as such, more particularly when it chanced that she and Lady Ella and
the bishop found themselves in the same conversation.
She made great friends with Miriam, and initiated her by a whole
collection of pretty costume plates into the mysteries of the "Ussian
Ballet" and the works of Mousso'gski and "Imsky Ko'zakof."
The bishop liked a certain religiosity in the texture of Moussorgski's
music, but failed to see the "significance "--of many of the costumes.
(2)
It was on a Sunday night--the fourth Sunday after Easter--that the
supreme crisis of the bishop's life began. He had had a feeling all day
of extreme dulness and stupidity; he felt his ministrations unreal, his
ceremonies absurd and undignified. In the night he became bleakly and
painfully awake. His mind occupied itself at first chiefly with the
tortuousness and weakness of his own character. Every day he perceived
that the difficulty of telling Lady Ella of the change in his faith
became more mountainous. And every day he procrastinated. If he had
told her naturally and simply on the evening of his return from
London--before anything material intervened--everything would have been
different, everything would have been simpler....
He groaned and rolled over in his bed.
There came upon him the acutest remorse and misery. For he saw that
amidst these petty immediacies he had lost touch with God. The last
month became incredible. He had seen God. He had touched God's hand. God
had been given to him, and he had neglected the gift. He was still lost
amidst the darkness and loneliness, the chaotic ends and mean shifts,
of an Erastian world. For a month now and more, after a vision of God so
vivid and real and reassuring that surely no saint nor prophet had ever
had a better, he had made no more than vague responsive movements; he
had allowed himself to be persuaded into an unreasonable and cowardly
delay, and the fetters of association and usage and minor interests
were as unbroken as they had been before ever the vision shone. Was it
credible that there had ever been such a vision in a life so entirely
dictated by immediacy and instinct as his? We are all creatures of the
dark stream, we swim in needs and bodily impulses and small vanities; if
ever and again a bubble of spiritual imaginativeness glows out of us, it
breaks and leaves us where we were.
"Louse that I am!" he cried.
He still believed in God, without a shadow of doubt; he believed in the
God that he had seen, the high courage, the golden intention, the light
that had for a moment touched him. But what had he to do with God, he,
the loiterer, the little thing?
He was little, he was funny. His prevarications with his wife, for
example, were comic. There was no other word for him but "funny."
He rolled back again and lay staring.
"Who will deliver me from the body of this death?" What right has a
little bishop in a purple stock and doeskin breeches, who hangs back in
his palace from the very call of God, to a phrase so fine and tragic as
"the body of this death?"
He was the most unreal thing in the universe. He was a base insect
giving himself airs. What advantage has a bishop over the Praying
Mantis, that cricket which apes the attitude of piety? Does he matter
more--to God?
"To the God of the Universe, who can tell? To the God of man,--yes."
He sat up in bed struck by his own answer, and full of an indescribable
hunger for God and an indescribable sense of his complete want of
courage to make the one simple appeal that would satisfy that hunger.
He tried to pray. "O God!" he cried, "forgive me! Take me!" It seemed to
him that he was not really praying but only making believe to pray. It
seemed to him that he was not really existing but only seeming to exist.
He seemed to himself to be one with figures on a china plate, with
figures painted on walls, with the flimsy imagined lives of men in
stories of forgotten times. "O God!" he said, "O God," acting a gesture,
mimicking appeal.
"Anaemic," he said, and was given an idea.
He got out of bed, he took his keys from the night-table at the bed head
and went to his bureau.
He stood with Dale's tonic in his hand. He remained for some time
holding it, and feeling a curious indisposition to go on with the thing
in his mind.
He turned at last with an effort. He carried the little phial to his
bedside, and into the tumbler of his water-bottle he let the drops fall,
drop by drop, until he had counted twenty. Then holding it to the bulb
of his reading lamp he added the water and stood watching the slow
pearly eddies in the mixture mingle into an opalescent uniformity. He
replaced the water-bottle and stood with the glass in his hand. But he
did not drink.
He was afraid.
He knew that he had only to drink and this world of confusion would grow
transparent, would roll back and reveal the great simplicities behind.
And he was afraid.
He was afraid of that greatness. He was afraid of the great imperatives
that he knew would at once take hold of his life. He wanted to muddle
on for just a little longer. He wanted to stay just where he was, in
his familiar prison-house, with the key of escape in his hand. Before he
took the last step into the very presence of truth, he would--think.
He put down the glass and lay down upon his bed....
(3)
He awoke in a mood of great depression out of a dream of wandering
interminably in an endless building of innumerable pillars, pillars so
vast and high that the ceiling was lost in darkness. By the scale of
these pillars he felt himself scarcely larger than an ant. He was always
alone in these wanderings, and always missing something that passed
along distant passages, something desirable, something in the nature
of a procession or of a ceremony, something of which he was in futile
pursuit, of which he heard faint echoes, something luminous of which he
seemed at times to see the last fading reflection, across vast halls
and wildernesses of shining pavement and through Cyclopaean archways. At
last there was neither sound nor gleam, but the utmost solitude, and a
darkness and silence and the uttermost profundity of sorrow....
It was bright day. Dunk had just come into the room with his tea, and
the tumbler of Dr. Dale's tonic stood untouched upon the night-table.
The bishop sat up in bed. He had missed his opportunity. To-day was a
busy day, he knew.
"No," he said, as Dunk hesitated whether to remove or leave the tumbler.
"Leave that."
Dunk found room for it upon the tea-tray, and vanished softly with the
bishop's evening clothes.
The bishop remained motionless facing the day. There stood the draught
of decision that he had lacked the decision even to touch.
From his bed he could just read the larger items that figured upon the
engagement tablet which it was Whippham's business to fill over-night
and place upon his table. He had two confirmation services, first
the big one in the cathedral and then a second one in the evening at
Pringle, various committees and an interview with Chasters. He had not
yet finished his addresses for these confirmation services....
The task seemed mountainous--overwhelming.
With a gesture of desperation he seized the tumblerful of tonic and
drank it off at a gulp.
(4)
For some moments nothing seemed to happen.
Then he began to feel stronger and less wretched, and then came a
throbbing and tingling of artery and nerve.
He had a sense of adventure, a pleasant fear in the thing that he had
done. He got out of bed, leaving his cup of tea untasted, and began to
dress. He had the sensation of relief a prisoner may feel who suddenly
tries his cell door and finds it open upon sunshine, the outside world
and freedom.
He went on dressing although he was certain that in a few minutes the
world of delusion about him would dissolve, and that he would find
himself again in the great freedom of the place of God.
This time the transition came much sooner and much more rapidly. This
time the phases and quality of the experience were different. He felt
once again that luminous confusion between the world in which a human
life is imprisoned and a circumambient and interpenetrating world, but
this phase passed very rapidly; it did not spread out over nearly half
an hour as it had done before, and almost immediately he seemed to
plunge away from everything in this life altogether into that outer
freedom he sought. And this time there was not even the elemental
scenery of the former vision. He stood on nothing; there was nothing
below and nothing above him. There was no sense of falling, no terror,
but a feeling as though he floated released. There was no light, but as
it were a clear darkness about him. Then it was manifest to him that he
was not alone, but that with him was that same being that in his former
vision had called himself the Angel of God. He knew this without knowing
why he knew this, and either he spoke and was answered, or he thought
and his thought answered him back. His state of mind on this occasion
was altogether different from the first vision of God; before it had
been spectacular, but now his perception was altogether super-sensuous.
(And nevertheless and all the time it seemed that very faintly he was
still in his room.)
It was he who was the first to speak. The great Angel whom he felt
rather than saw seemed to be waiting for him to speak.
"I have come," he said, "because once more I desire to see God."
"But you have seen God."
"I saw God. God was light, God was truth. And I went back to my life,
and God was hidden. God seemed to call me. He called. I heard him, I
sought him and I touched his hand. When I went back to my life I was
presently lost in perplexity. I could not tell why God had called me nor
what I had to do."
"And why did you not come here before?"
"Doubt and fear. Brother, will you not lay your hand on mine?"
The figure in the darkness became distincter. But nothing touched the
bishop's seeking hands.
"I want to see God and to understand him. I want reassurance. I want
conviction. I want to understand all that God asks me to do. The world
is full of conflict and confusion and the spirit of war. It is dark and
dreadful now with suffering and bloodshed. I want to serve God who could
save it, and I do not know how."
It seemed to the bishop that now he could distinguish dimly but surely
the form and features of the great Angel to whom he talked. For a little
while there was silence, and then the Angel spoke.
"It was necessary first," said the Angel, "that you should apprehend God
and desire him. That was the purport of your first vision. Now, since
you require it, I will tell you and show you certain things about him,
things that it seems you need to know, things that all men need to know.
Know then first that the time is at hand when God will come into the
world and rule it, and when men will know what is required of them.
This time is close at hand. In a little while God will be made manifest
throughout the earth. Men will know him and know that he is King. To you
this truth is to be shown--that you may tell it to others."
"This is no vision?" said the bishop, "no dream that will pass away?"
"Am I not here beside you?"
(5)
The bishop was anxious to be very clear. Things that had been
shapelessly present in his mind now took form and found words for
themselves.
"The God I saw in my vision--He is not yet manifest in the world?"
"He comes. He is in the world, but he is not yet manifested. He whom you
saw in your vision will speedily be manifest in the world. To you this
vision is given of the things that come. The world is already glowing
with God. Mankind is like a smouldering fire that will presently, in
quite a little time, burst out into flame.
"In your former vision I showed you God," said the Angel. "This time
I will show you certain signs of the coming of God. And then you will
understand the place you hold in the world and the task that is required
of you."
(6)
And as the Angel spoke he lifted up his hands with the palms upward, and
there appeared above them a little round cloud, that grew denser until
it had the likeness of a silver sphere. It was a mirror in the form of
a ball, but a mirror not shining uniformly; it was discoloured with
greyish patches that had a familiar shape. It circled slowly upon the
Angel's hands. It seemed no greater than the compass of a human skull,
and yet it was as great as the earth. Indeed it showed the whole
earth. It was the earth. The hands of the Angel vanished out of sight,
dissolved and vanished, and the spinning world hung free. All about the
bishop the velvet darkness broke into glittering points that shaped out
the constellations, and nearest to them, so near as to seem only a few
million miles away in the great emptiness into which everything had
resolved itself, shone the sun, a ball of red-tongued fires. The Angel
was but a voice now; the bishop and the Angel were somewhere aloof from
and yet accessible to the circling silver sphere.
At the time all that happened seemed to happen quite naturally, as
things happen in a dream. It was only later, when all this was a matter
of memory, that the bishop realized how strange and incomprehensible his
vision had been. The sphere was the earth with all its continents and
seas, its ships and cities, its country-sides and mountain ranges. It
was so small that he could see it all at once, and so great and full
that he could see everything in it. He could see great countries like
little patches upon it, and at the same time he could see the faces of
the men upon the highways, he could see the feelings in men's hearts and
the thoughts in their minds. But it did not seem in any way wonderful
to the bishop that so he should see those things, or that it was to him
that these things were shown.
"This is the whole world," he said.
"This is the vision of the world," the Angel answered.
"It is very wonderful," said the bishop, and stood for a moment
marvelling at the compass of his vision. For here was India, here
was Samarkand, in the light of the late afternoon; and China and the
swarming cities upon her silvery rivers sinking through twilight to the
night and throwing a spray and tracery of lantern spots upon the dark;
here was Russia under the noontide, and so great a battle of artillery
raging on the Dunajec as no man had ever seen before; whole lines of
trenches dissolved into clouds of dust and heaps of blood-streaked
earth; here close to the waiting streets of Constantinople were the
hills of Gallipoli, the grave of British Imperialism, streaming to
heaven with the dust and smoke of bursting shells and rifle fire and the
smoke and flame of burning brushwood. In the sea of Marmora a big ship
crowded with Turkish troops was sinking; and, purple under the clear
water, he could see the shape of the British submarine which had
torpedoed her and had submerged and was going away. Berlin prepared its
frugal meals, still far from famine. He saw the war in Europe as if he
saw it on a map, yet every human detail showed. Over hundreds of miles
of trenches east and west of Germany he could see shells bursting and
the men below dropping, and the stretcher-bearers going back with
the wounded. The roads to every front were crowded with reserves and
munitions. For a moment a little group of men indifferent to all this
struggle, who were landing amidst the Antarctic wilderness, held his
attention; and then his eyes went westward to the dark rolling Atlantic
across which, as the edge of the night was drawn like a curtain, more
and still more ships became visible beating upon their courses eastward
or westward under the overtaking day.
The wonder increased; the wonder of the single and infinitely
multitudinous adventure of mankind.
"So God perhaps sees it," he whispered.
(7)
"Look at this man," said the Angel, and the black shadow of a hand
seemed to point.
It was a Chinaman sitting with two others in a little low room separated
by translucent paper windows from a noisy street of shrill-voiced
people. The three had been talking of the ultimatum that Japan had sent
that day to China, claiming a priority in many matters over European
influences they were by no means sure whether it was a wrong or a
benefit that had been done to their country. From that topic they had
passed to the discussion of the war, and then of wars and national
aggressions and the perpetual thrusting and quarrelling of mankind. The
older man had said that so life would always be; it was the will of
Heaven. The little, very yellow-faced, emaciated man had agreed with
him. But now this younger man, to whose thoughts the Angel had so
particularly directed the bishop's attention, was speaking. He did not
agree with his companion.
"War is not the will of Heaven," he said; "it is the blindness of men."
"Man changes," he said, "from day to day and from age to age. The
science of the West has taught us that. Man changes and war changes and
all things change. China has been the land of flowery peace, and she may
yet give peace to all the world. She has put aside that puppet Emperor
at Peking, she turns her face to the new learning of the West as a man
lays aside his heavy robes, in order that her task may be achieved."
The older man spoke, his manner was more than a little incredulous, and
yet not altogether contemptuous. "You believe that someday there will be
no more war in the world, that a time will come when men will no longer
plot and plan against the welfare of men?"
"Even that last," said the younger man. "Did any of us dream twenty-five
years ago that here in China we should live to see a republic? The age
of the republics draws near, when men in every country of the world will
look straight up to the rule of Right and the empire of Heaven."
("And God will be King of the World," said the Angel. "Is not that
faith exactly the faith that is coming to you?")
The two other Chinamen questioned their companion, but without
hostility.
"This war," said the Chinaman, "will end in a great harvesting of
kings."
"But Japan--" the older man began.
The bishop would have liked to hear more of that conversation, but
the dark hand of the Angel motioned him to another part of the world.
"Listen to this," said the Angel.
He pointed the bishop to where the armies of Britain and Turkey lay in
the heat of Mesopotamia. Along the sandy bank of a wide, slow-flowing
river rode two horsemen, an Englishman and a Turk. They were returning
from the Turkish lines, whither the Englishman had been with a flag of
truce. When Englishmen and Turks are thrown together they soon
become friends, and in this case matters had been facilitated by
the Englishman's command of the Turkish language. He was quite an
exceptional Englishman. The Turk had just been remarking cheerfully that
it wouldn't please the Germans if they were to discover how amiably he
and his charge had got on. "It's a pity we ever ceased to be friends,"
he said.
"You Englishmen aren't like our Christians," he went on.
The Englishmen wanted to know why.
"You haven't priests in robes. You don't chant and worship crosses and
pictures, and quarrel among yourselves."
"We worship the same God as you do," said the Englishman.
"Then why do we fight?"
"That's what we want to know."
"Why do you call yourselves Christians? And take part against us? All
who worship the One God are brothers."
"They ought to be," said the Englishman, and thought. He was struck by
what seemed to him an amazingly novel idea.
"If it weren't for religions all men would serve God together," he
said. "And then there would be no wars--only now and then perhaps just a
little honest fighting...."
"And see here," said the Angel. "Here close behind this frightful
battle, where the German phalanx of guns pounds its way through the
Russian hosts. Here is a young German talking to two wounded Russian
prisoners, who have stopped to rest by the roadside. He is a German of
East Prussia; he knows and thinks a little Russian. And they too are
saying, all three of them, that the war is not God's will, but the
confusion of mankind.
"Here," he said, and the shadow of his hand hovered over the
burning-ghats of Benares, where a Brahmin of the new persuasion watched
the straight spires of funereal smoke ascend into the glow of the late
afternoon, while he talked to an English painter, his friend, of the
blind intolerance of race and caste and custom in India.
"Or here."
The Angel pointed to a group of people who had gathered upon a little
beach at the head of a Norwegian fiord. There were three lads, an old
man and two women, and they stood about the body of a drowned German
sailor which had been washed up that day. For a time they had talked in
whispers, but now suddenly the old man spoke aloud.
"This is the fourth that has come ashore," he said. "Poor drowned souls!
Because men will not serve God."
"But folks go to church and pray enough," said one of the women.
"They do not serve God," said the old man. "They just pray to him as one
nods to a beggar. They do not serve God who is their King. They set up
their false kings and emperors, and so all Europe is covered with dead,
and the seas wash up these dead to us. Why does the world suffer these
things? Why did we Norwegians, who are a free-spirited people, permit
the Germans and the Swedes and the English to set up a king over us?
Because we lack faith. Kings mean secret counsels, and secret counsels
bring war. Sooner or later war will come to us also if we give the soul
of our nation in trust to a king.... But things will not always be thus
with men. God will not suffer them for ever. A day comes, and it is no
distant day, when God himself will rule the earth, and when men will do,
not what the king wishes nor what is expedient nor what is customary,
but what is manifestly right."....
"But men are saying that now in a thousand places," said the Angel.
"Here is something that goes a little beyond that."
His pointing hand went southward until they saw the Africanders riding
down to Windhuk. Two men, Boer farmers both, rode side by side and
talked of the German officer they brought prisoner with them. He had put
sheep-dip in the wells of drinking-water; his life was fairly forfeit,
and he was not to be killed. "We want no more hate in South Africa,"
they agreed. "Dutch and English and German must live here now side by
side. Men cannot always be killing."
"And see his thoughts," said the Angel.
The German's mind was one amazement. He had been sure of being shot, he
had meant to make a good end, fierce and scornful, a relentless fighter
to the last; and these men who might have shot him like a man were going
to spare him like a dog. His mind was a tumbled muddle of old and
new ideas. He had been brought up in an atmosphere of the foulest and
fiercest militarism; he had been trained to relentlessness, ruthlessness
and so forth; war was war and the bitterer the better, frightfulness
was your way to victory over every enemy. But these people had found a
better way. Here were Dutch and English side by side; sixteen years ago
they had been at war together and now they wore the same uniform and
rode together, and laughed at him for a queer fellow because he was
for spitting at them and defying them, and folding his arms and looking
level at the executioners' rifles. There were to be no executioners'
rifles.... If it was so with Dutch and English, why shouldn't it be so
presently with French and Germans? Why someday shouldn't French, German,
Dutch and English, Russian and Pole, ride together under this new star
of mankind, the Southern Cross, to catch whatever last mischief-maker
was left to poison the wells of goodwill?
His mind resisted and struggled against these ideas. "Austere," he
whispered. "The ennobling tests of war." A trooner rode up alongside,
and offered him a drink of water
"Just a mouthful," he said apologetically. "We've had to go rather
short."...
"There's another brain busy here with the same idea," the Angel
interrupted. And the bishop found himself looking into the bedroom of a
young German attache in Washington, sleepless in the small hours.
"Ach!" cried the young man, and sat up in bed and ran his hands through
his fair hair.
He had been working late upon this detestable business of the Lusitania;
the news of her sinking had come to hand two days before, and all
America was aflame with it. It might mean war. His task had been to pour
out explanations and justifications to the press; to show that it was an
act of necessity, to pretend a conviction that the great ship was loaded
with munitions, to fight down the hostility and anger that blazed across
a continent. He had worked to his limit. He had taken cup after cup of
coffee, and had come to bed worked out not two hours ago. Now here he
was awake after a nightmare of drowning women and children, trying to
comfort his soul by recalling his own arguments. Never once since the
war began had he doubted the rightness of the German cause. It seemed
only a proof of his nervous exhaustion that he could doubt it now.
Germany was the best organized, most cultivated, scientific and liberal
nation the earth had ever seen, it was for the good of mankind that she
should be the dominant power in the world; his patriotism had had the
passion of a mission. The English were indolent, the French decadent,
the Russians barbaric, the Americans basely democratic; the rest of the
world was the "White man's Burthen"; the clear destiny of mankind
was subservience to the good Prussian eagle. Nevertheless--those
wet draggled bodies that swirled down in the eddies of the sinking
Titan--Ach! He wished it could have been otherwise. He nursed his knees
and prayed that there need not be much more of these things before the
spirit of the enemy was broken and the great Peace of Germany came upon
the world.
And suddenly he stopped short in his prayer.
Suddenly out of the nothingness and darkness about him came the
conviction that God did not listen to his prayers....
Was there any other way?
It was the most awful doubt he had ever had, for it smote at the
training of all his life. "Could it be possible that after all our old
German God is not the proper style and title of the true God? Is our old
German God perhaps only the last of a long succession of bloodstained
tribal effigies--and not God at all?"
For a long time it seemed that the bishop watched the thoughts that
gathered in the young attache's mind. Until suddenly he broke into a
quotation, into that last cry of the dying Goethe, for "Light. More
Light!"...
"Leave him at that," said the Angel. "I want you to hear these two young
women."
The hand came back to England and pointed to where Southend at the mouth
of the Thames was all agog with the excitement of an overnight Zeppelin
raid. People had got up hours before their usual time in order to
look at the wrecked houses before they went up to their work in town.
Everybody seemed abroad. Two nurses, not very well trained as nurses go
nor very well-educated women, were snatching a little sea air upon the
front after an eventful night. They were too excited still to sleep.
They were talking of the horror of the moment when they saw the nasty
thing "up there," and felt helpless as it dropped its bombs. They had
both hated it.
"There didn't ought to be such things," said one.
"They don't seem needed," said her companion.
"Men won't always go on like this--making wars and all such wickedness."
"It's 'ow to stop them?"
"Science is going to stop them."
"Science?"
"Yes, science. My young brother--oh, he's a clever one--he says such
things! He says that it's science that they won't always go on like
this. There's more sense coming into the world and more--my young
brother says so. Says it stands to reason; it's Evolution. It's science
that men are all brothers; you can prove it. It's science that there
oughtn't to be war. Science is ending war now by making it horrible like
this, and making it so that no one is safe. Showing it up. Only when
nobody is safe will everybody want to set up peace, he says. He says
it's proved there could easily be peace all over the world now if it
wasn't for flags and kings and capitalists and priests. They still
manage to keep safe and out of it. He says the world ought to be just
one state. The World State, he says it ought to be."
("Under God," said the bishop, "under God.")
"He says science ought to be King of the whole world."
"Call it Science if you will," said the bishop. "God is wisdom."
"Out of the mouths of babes and elementary science students," said the
Angel. "The very children in the board schools are turning against this
narrowness and nonsense and mischief of nations and creeds and kings.
You see it at a thousand points, at ten thousand points, look, the
world is all flashing and flickering; it is like a spinthariscope; it is
aquiver with the light that is coming to mankind. It is on the verge of
blazing even now."
"Into a light."
"Into the one Kingdom of God. See here! See here! And here! This brave
little French priest in a helmet of steel who is daring to think for the
first time in his life; this gentle-mannered emir from Morocco looking
at the grave-diggers on the battlefield; this mother who has lost her
son....
"You see they all turn in one direction, although none of them seem to
dream yet that they are all turning in the same direction. They turn,
every one, to the rule of righteousness, which is the rule of God. They
turn to that communism of effort in the world which alone permits men
to serve God in state and city and their economic lives.... They are all
coming to the verge of the same salvation, the salvation of one human
brotherhood under the rule of one Righteousness, one Divine will.... Is
that the salvation your church offers?"
(8)
"And now that we have seen how religion grows and spreads in men's
hearts, now that the fields are white with harvest, I want you to look
also and see what the teachers of religion are doing," said the Angel.
He smiled. His presence became more definite, and the earthly globe
about them and the sun and the stars grew less distinct and less
immediately there. The silence invited the bishop to speak.
"In the light of this vision, I see my church plainly for the little
thing it is," he said.
He wanted to be perfectly clear with the Angel and himself.
"This church of which I am a bishop is just a part of our poor human
struggle, small and pitiful as one thinks of it here in the light of the
advent of God's Kingdom, but very great, very great indeed, ancient and
high and venerable, in comparison with me. But mostly it is human. It is
most human. For my story is the church's story, and the church's story
is mine. Here I could almost believe myself the church itself. The
world saw a light, the nations that were sitting in darkness saw a great
light. Even as I saw God. And then the church began to forget and lose
itself among secondary things. As I have done.... It tried to express
the truth and lost itself in a maze of theology. It tried to bring order
into the world and sold its faith to Constantine. These men who had
professed the Invisible King of the World, shirked his service. It is a
most terrible disaster that Christianity has sold itself to emperors and
kings. They forged a saying of the Master's that we should render unto
Ceasar the things that are Ceasar's and unto God the things that are
God's....
"Who is this Ceasar to set himself up to share mankind with God? Nothing
that is Ceasar's can be any the less God's. But Constantine Caesar sat
in the midst of the council, his guards were all about it, and the poor
fanatics and trimmers and schemers disputed nervously with their eyes
on him, disputed about homoousian and homoiousian, and grimaced and
pretended to be very very fierce and exact to hide how much they were
frightened and how little they knew, and because they did not dare to
lay violent hands upon that usurper of the empire of the world....
"And from that day forth the Christian churches have been damned and
lost. Kept churches. Lackey churches. Roman, Russian, Anglican; it
matters not. My church indeed was twice sold, for it doubled the sin of
Nicaea and gave itself over to Henry and Elizabeth while it shammed
a dispute about the sacraments. No one cared really about
transubstantiation any more than the earlier betrayers cared about
consubstantiality; that dispute did but serve to mask the betrayal."
He turned to the listening Angel. "What can you show me of my church
that I do not know? Why! we Anglican bishops get our sees as footmen get
a job. For months Victoria, that old German Frau, delayed me--because of
some tittle-tattle.... The things we are! Snape, who afterwards became
Bishop of Burnham, used to waylay the Prince Consort when he was riding
in Hyde Park and give him, he boasts, 'a good loud cheer,' and then he
would run very fast across the park so as to catch him as he came round,
and do it again.... It is to that sort of thing we bearers of the light
have sunken....
"I have always despised that poor toady," the bishop went on. "And
yet here am I, and God has called me and shown me the light of his
countenance, and for a month I have faltered. That is the mystery of the
human heart, that it can and does sin against the light. What right have
I, who have seen the light--and failed, what right have I--to despise
any other human being? I seem to have been held back by a sort of
paralysis.
"Men are so small, so small still, that they cannot keep hold of the
vision of God. That is why I want to see God again.... But if it were
not for this strange drug that seems for a little while to lift my mind
above the confusion and personal entanglements of every day, I doubt if
even now I could be here. I am here, passionate to hold this moment and
keep the light. As this inspiration passes, I shall go back, I know,
to my home and my place and my limitations. The littleness of men! The
forgetfulness of men! I want to know what my chief duty is, to have it
plain, in terms so plain that I can never forget.
"See in this world," he said, turning to the globe, "while Chinese
merchants and Turkish troopers, school-board boys and Norwegian
fishermen, half-trained nurses and Boer farmers are full of the spirit
of God, see how the priests of the churches of Nicaea spend their time."
And now it was the bishop whose dark hands ran over the great silver
globe, and it was the Angel who stood over him and listened, as a
teacher might stand over a child who is learning a lesson. The bishop's
hand rested for a second on a cardinal who was planning a political
intrigue to produce a reaction in France, then for a moment on a
Pomeranian pastor who was going out to his well-tilled fields with his
Sunday sermon, full of fierce hatred of England, still echoing in his
head. Then he paused at a Mollah preaching the Jehad, in doubt whether
he too wasn't a German pastor, and then at an Anglican clergyman still
lying abed and thinking out a great mission of Repentance and Hope that
should restore the authority of the established church--by incoherent
missioning--without any definite sin indicated for repentance nor any
clear hope for anything in particular arising out of such activities.
The bishop's hand went seeking to and fro, but nowhere could he find
any religious teacher, any religious body rousing itself to meet the new
dawn of faith in the world. Some few men indeed seemed thoughtful, but
within the limitation of their vows. Everywhere it was church and creed
and nation and king and property and partisanship, and nowhere was it
the True God that the priests and teachers were upholding. It was always
the common unhampered man through whom the light of God was breaking; it
was always the creed and the organization of the religious professionals
that stood in the way to God....
"God is putting the priests aside," he cried, "and reaching out to
common men. The churches do not serve God. They stand between man and
God. They are like great barricades on the way to God."
The bishop's hand brushed over Archbishop Pontifex, who was just coming
down to breakfast in his palace. This pompous old man was dressed in
a purple garment that set off his tall figure very finely, and he was
holding out his episcopal ring for his guests to kiss, that being the
customary morning greeting of Archbishop Pontifex. The thought of that
ring-kissing had made much hard work at lower levels "worth while"
to Archbishop Pontifex. And seventy miles away from him old Likeman
breakfasted in bed on Benger's food, and searched his Greek Testament
for tags to put to his letters. And here was the familiar palace at
Princhester, and in an armchair in his bed-room sat Bishop Scrope
insensible and motionless, in a trance in which he was dreaming of the
coming of God.
"I see my futility. I see my vanity. But what am I to do?" he said,
turning to the darkness that now wrapped about the Angel again, fold
upon fold. "The implications of yesterday bind me for the morrow. This
is my world. This is what I am and what I am in. How can I save myself?
How can I turn from these habits and customs and obligations to the
service of the one true God? When I see myself, then I understand how it
is with the others. All we priests and teachers are men caught in nets.
I would serve God. Easily said! But how am I to serve God? How am I to
help and forward His coming, to make myself part of His coming?"
He perceived that he was returning into himself, and that the vision of
the sphere and of the starry spaces was fading into non-existence.
He struggled against this return. He felt that his demand was still
unanswered. His wife's face had suddenly come very close to him, and he
realized she intervened between him and that solution.
What was she doing here?
(9)
The great Angel seemed still to be near at hand, limitless space was all
about him, and yet the bishop perceived that he was now sitting in the
arm-chair in his bedroom in the palace of Princhester. He was both
there and not there. It seemed now as if he had two distinct yet kindred
selves, and that the former watched the latter. The latter was now
awakening to the things about him; the former marked his gestures and
listened with an entire detachment to the words he was saying. These
words he was saying to Lady Ella: "God is coming to rule the world, I
tell you. We must leave the church."
Close to him sat Lady Ella, watching him with an expression in which
dismay and resolution mingled. Upon the other side of him, upon a little
occasional table, was a tray with breakfast things. He was no longer the
watcher now, but the watched.
Lady Ella bent towards him as he spoke. She seemed to struggle with and
dismiss his astonishing statement.
"Edward," she said, "you have been taking a drug." He looked round at
his night table to see the little phial. It had gone. Then he saw that
Lady Ella held it very firmly in her hand.
"Dunk came to me in great distress. He said you were insensible and
breathing heavily. I came. I realized. I told him to say nothing to any
one, but to fetch me a tray with your breakfast. I have kept all the
other servants away and I have waited here by you.... Dunk I think
is safe.... You have been muttering and moving your head from side to
side...."
The bishop's mind was confused. He felt as though God must be standing
just outside the room. "I have failed in my duty," he said. "But I am
very near to God." He laid his hand on her arm. "You know, Ella, He is
very close to us...."
She looked perplexed.
He sat up in his chair.
"For some months now," he said, "there have been new forces at work
in my mind. I have been invaded by strange doubts and still stranger
realizations. This old church of ours is an empty mask. God is not
specially concerned in it."
"Edward!" she cried, "what are you saying?"
"I have been hesitating to tell you. But I see now I must tell you
plainly. Our church is a cast hull. It is like the empty skin of a
snake. God has gone out of it."
She rose to her feet. She was so horrified that she staggered backward,
pushing her chair behind her. "But you are mad," she said.
He was astonished at her distress. He stood up also.
"My dear," he said, "I can assure you I am not mad. I should have
prepared you, I know...."
She looked at him wild-eyed. Then she glanced at the phial, gripped in
her hand.
"Oh!" she exclaimed, and going swiftly to the window emptied out the
contents of the little bottle. He realized what she was doing too late
to prevent her.
"Don't waste that!" he cried, and stepping forward caught hold of her
wrist. The phial fell from her white fingers, and crashed upon the rough
paved garden path below.
"My dear," he cried, "my dear. You do not understand."
They stood face to face. "It was a tonic," he said. "I have been ill. I
need it."
"It is a drug," she answered. "You have been uttering blasphemies."
He dropped her arm and walked half-way across the room. Then he turned
and faced her.
"They are not blasphemies," he said. "But I ought not to have surprised
you and shocked you as I have done. I want to tell you of changes that
have happened to my mind."
"Now!" she exclaimed, and then: "I will not hear them now. Until you are
better. Until these fumes--"
Her manner changed. "Oh, Edward!" she cried, "why have you done this?
Why have you taken things secretly? I know you have been sleepless, but
I have been so ready to help you. I have been willing--you know I have
been willing--for any help. My life is all to be of use to you...."
"Is there any reason," she pleaded, "why you should have hidden things
from me?"
He stood remorseful and distressed. "I should have talked to you," he
said lamely.
"Edward," she said, laying her hands on his shoulders, "will you do one
thing for me? Will you try to eat a little breakfast? And stay here? I
will go down to Mr. Whippham and arrange whatever is urgent with him.
Perhaps if you rest--There is nothing really imperative until the
confirmation in the afternoon.... I do not understand all this. For some
time--I have felt it was going on. But of that we can talk. The thing
now is that people should not know, that nothing should be seen....
Suppose for instance that horrible White Blackbird were to hear of
it.... I implore you. If you rest here--And if I were to send for that
young doctor who attended Miriam."
"I don't want a doctor," said the bishop.
"But you ought to have a doctor."
"I won't have a doctor," said the bishop.
It was with a perplexed but powerless dissent that the externalized
perceptions of the bishop witnessed his agreement with the rest of Lady
Ella's proposals so soon as this point about the doctor was conceded.
(10)
For the rest of that day until his breakdown in the cathedral the sense
of being in two places at the same time haunted the bishop's mind. He
stood beside the Angel in the great space amidst the stars, and at the
same time he was back in his ordinary life, he was in his palace at
Princhester, first resting in his bedroom and talking to his wife
and presently taking up the routines of his duties again in his study
downstairs.
His chief task was to finish his two addresses for the confirmation
services of the day. He read over his notes, and threw them aside
and remained for a time thinking deeply. The Greek tags at the end
of Likeman's letter came into his thoughts; they assumed a quality of
peculiar relevance to this present occasion. He repeated the words:
"Epitelesei. Epiphausei."
He took his little Testament to verify them. After some slight trouble
he located the two texts. The first, from Philippians, ran in the old
version, "He that hath begun a good work in you will perform it";
the second was expressed thus: "Christ shall give thee light." He was
dissatisfied with these renderings and resorted to the revised version,
which gave "perfect" instead of "perform," and "shall shine upon you"
for "give thee light." He reflected profoundly for a time.
Then suddenly his addresses began to take shape in his mind, and these
little points lost any significance. He began to write rapidly, and as
he wrote he felt the Angel stood by his right hand and read and approved
what he was writing. There were moments when his mind seemed to be
working entirely beyond his control. He had a transitory questioning
whether this curious intellectual automatism was not perhaps what people
meant by "inspiration."
(11)
The bishop had always been sensitive to the secret fount of pathos that
is hidden in the spectacle of youth. Long years ago when he and Lady
Ella had been in Florence he had been moved to tears by the beauty
of the fresh-faced eager Tobit who runs beside the great angel in the
picture of Botticelli. And suddenly and almost as uncontrollably, that
feeling returned at the sight of the young congregation below him,
of all these scores of neophytes who were gathered to make a public
acknowledgment of God. The war has invested all youth now with the
shadow of tragedy; before it came many of us were a little envious of
youth and a little too assured of its certainty of happiness. All that
has changed. Fear and a certain tender solicitude mingle in our regard
for every child; not a lad we pass in the street but may presently be
called to face such pain and stress and danger as no ancient hero ever
knew. The patronage, the insolent condescension of age, has vanished out
of the world. It is dreadful to look upon the young.
He stood surveying the faces of the young people as the rector read the
Preface to the confirmation service. How simple they were, how innocent!
Some were a little flushed by the excitement of the occasion; some a
little pallid. But they were all such tender faces, so soft in outline,
so fresh and delicate in texture and colour. They had soft credulous
mouths. Some glanced sideways at one another; some listened with a
forced intentness. The expression of one good-looking boy, sitting in a
corner scat, struck the bishop as being curiously defiant. He stood
very erect, he blinked his eyes as though they smarted, his lips were
compressed bitterly. And then it seemed to the bishop that the Angel
stood beside him and gave him understanding.
"He is here," the bishop knew, "because he could not avoid coming. He
tried to excuse himself. His mother wept. What could he do? But the
church's teaching nowadays fails even to grip the minds of boys."
The rector came to the end of his Preface: "They will evermore endeavour
themselves faithfully to observe such things as they by their own
confession have assented unto."
"Like a smart solicitor pinning them down," said the bishop to himself,
and then roused himself, unrolled the little paper in his hand, leant
forward, and straightway began his first address.
Nowadays it is possible to say very unorthodox things indeed in an
Anglican pulpit unchallenged. There remains no alert doctrinal criticism
in the church congregations. It was possible, therefore, for the bishop
to say all that follows without either hindrance or disturbance. The
only opposition, indeed, came from within, from a sense of dreamlike
incongruity between the place and the occasion and the things that he
found himself delivering.
"All ceremonies," he began, "grow old. All ceremonies are tainted even
from the first by things less worthy than their first intention, and
you, my dear sons and daughters, who have gathered to-day in this worn
and ancient building, beneath these monuments to ancient vanities and
these symbols of forgotten or abandoned theories about the mystery of
God, will do well to distinguish in your minds between what is essential
and what is superfluous and confusing in this dedication you make of
yourselves to God our Master and King. For that is the real thing you
seek to do today, to give yourselves to God. This is your spiritual
coming of age, in which you set aside your childish dependence upon
teachers and upon taught phrases, upon rote and direction, and stand up
to look your Master in the face. You profess a great brotherhood when
you do that, a brotherhood that goes round the earth, that numbers men
of every race and nation and country, that aims to bring God into
all the affairs of this world and make him not only the king of your
individual lives but the king--in place of all the upstarts, usurpers,
accidents, and absurdities who bear crowns and sceptres today--of an
united mankind."
He paused, and in the pause he heard a little rustle as though the
congregation before him was sitting up in its places, a sound that
always nerves and reassures an experienced preacher.
"This, my dear children, is the reality of this grave business to-day,
as indeed it is the real and practical end of all true religion. This is
your sacrament urn, your soldier's oath. You salute and give your fealty
to the coming Kingdom of God. And upon that I would have you fix your
minds to the exclusion of much that, I know only too well, has been
narrow and evil and sectarian in your preparation for this solemn rite.
God is like a precious jewel found among much rubble; you must cast the
rubble from you. The crowning triumph of the human mind is simplicity;
the supreme significance of God lies in his unity and universality. The
God you salute to-day is the God of the Jews and Gentiles alike, the
God of Islam, the God of the Brahmo Somaj, the unknown God of many a
righteous unbeliever. He is not the God of those felted theologies and
inexplicable doctrines with which your teachers may have confused your
minds. I would have it very clear in your minds that having drunken the
draught you should not reverence unduly the cracked old vessel that has
brought it to your lips. I should be falling short of my duty if I did
not make that and everything I mean by that altogether plain to you."
He saw the lad whose face of dull defiance he had marked before, sitting
now with a startled interest in his eyes. The bishop leant over the desk
before him, and continued in the persuasive tone of a man who speaks of
things too manifest for laboured argument.
"In all ages religion has come from God through broad-minded creative
men, and in all ages it has fallen very quickly into the hands
of intense and conservative men. These last--narrow, fearful, and
suspicious--have sought in every age to save the precious gift of
religion by putting it into a prison of formulae and asseverations. Bear
that in mind when you are pressed to definition. It is as if you made a
box hermetically sealed to save the treasure of a fresh breeze from the
sea. But they have sought out exact statements and tortuous explanations
of the plain truth of God, they have tried to take down God in writing,
to commit him to documents, to embalm his living faith as though it
would otherwise corrupt. So they have lost God and fallen into endless
differences, disputes, violence, and darkness about insignificant
things. They have divided religion between this creed and teacher and
that. The corruption of the best is the worst, said Aristotle; and the
great religions of the world, and especially this Christianity of ours,
are the ones most darkened and divided and wasted by the fussings and
false exactitudes of the creed-monger and the sectary. There is no lie
so bad as a stale disfigured truth. There is no heresy so damnable as
a narrow orthodoxy. All religious associations carry this danger of the
over-statement that misstates and the over-emphasis that divides and
betrays. Beware of that danger. Do not imagine, because you are gathered
in this queerly beautiful old building today, because I preside here in
this odd raiment of an odder compromise, because you see about you in
coloured glass and carven stone the emblems of much vain disputation,
that thereby you cut yourselves off and come apart from the great world
of faith, Catholic, Islamic, Brahministic, Buddhistic, that grows now
to a common consciousness of the near Advent of God our King. You enter
that waiting world fraternity now, you do not leave it. This place, this
church of ours, should be to you not a seclusion and a fastness but a
door.
"I could quote you a score of instances to establish that this simple
universalism was also the teaching of Christ. But now I will only remind
you that it was Mary who went to her lord simply, who was commended, and
not Martha who troubled about many things. Learn from the Mary of
Faith and not from these Marthas of the Creeds. Let us abandon the
presumptions of an ignorant past. The perfection of doctrine is not
for finite men. Give yourselves to God. Give yourselves to God. Not to
churches and uses, but to God. To God simply. He is the first word of
religion and the last. He is Alpha; he is Omega. Epitelesei; it is He
who will finish the good work begun."
The bishop ended his address in a vivid silence. Then he began his
interrogation.
"Do you here, in the presence of God, and of this congregation, renew
the solemn promise and vow that was made in your name at your Baptism;
ratifying and confirming the same in your own persons, and acknowledging
yourselves--"
He stopped short. The next words were: "bound to believe and do all
those things, which your Godfathers and Godmothers then undertook for
you."
He could not stand those words. He hesitated, and then substituted:
"acknowledge yourselves to be the true servants of the one God, who is
the Lord of Mankind?"
For a moment silence hung in the cathedral. Then one voice, a boy's
voice, led a ragged response. "I do."
Then the bishop: "Our help is in the Name of the Lord."
The congregation answered doubtfully, with a glance at its prayer books:
"Who hath made heaven and earth."
The bishop: "Blessed be the name of the Lord."
The congregation said with returning confidence: "Henceforth, world
without end."
(12)
Before his second address the bishop had to listen to Veni Creator
Spiritus, in its English form, and it seemed to him the worst of all
possible hymns. Its defects became monstrously exaggerated to his
hypersensitive mind. It impressed him in its Englished travesty as a
grotesque, as a veritable Charlie Chaplin among hymns, and in truth it
does stick out most awkward feet, it misses its accusatives, it catches
absurdly upon points of abstruse doctrine. The great Angel stood
motionless and ironical at the bishop's elbow while it was being sung.
"Your church," he seemed to say.
"We must end this sort of thing," whispered the bishop. "We must end
this sort of thing--absolutely." He glanced at the faces of the singers,
and it became beyond all other things urgent, that he should lift them
once for all above the sectarian dogmatism of that hymn to a simple
vision of God's light....
He roused himself to the touching business of the laying on of hands.
While he did so the prepared substance of his second address was running
through his mind. The following prayer and collects he read without
difficulty, and so came to his second address. His disposition at first
was explanatory.
"When I spoke to you just now," he began, "I fell unintentionally into
the use of a Greek word, epitelesei. It was written to me in a letter
from a friend with another word that also I am now going to quote to
you. This letter touched very closely upon the things I want to say to
you now, and so these two words are very much in my mind. The former one
was taken from the Epistle to the Philippians; it signifies, 'He will
complete the work begun'; the one I have now in mind comes from the
Epistle to the Ephesians; it is Epiphausei--or, to be fuller, epiphausei
soi ho Christos, which signifies that He will shine upon us. And this is
very much in my thoughts now because I do believe that this world, which
seemed so very far from God a little while ago, draws near now to an
unexampled dawn. God is at hand.
"It is your privilege, it is your grave and terrible position, that you
have been born at the very end and collapse of a negligent age, of an
age of sham kingship, sham freedom, relaxation, evasion, greed, waste,
falsehood, and sinister preparation. Your lives open out in the midst
of the breakdown for which that age prepared. To you negligence is no
longer possible. There is cold and darkness, there is the heat of the
furnace before you; you will live amidst extremes such as our youth
never knew; whatever betide, you of your generation will have small
chance of living untempered lives. Our country is at war and half
mankind is at war; death and destruction trample through the world;
men rot and die by the million, food diminishes and fails, there is
a wasting away of all the hoarded resources, of all the accumulated
well-being of mankind; and there is no clear prospect yet of any end to
this enormous and frightful conflict. Why did it ever arise? What made
it possible? It arose because men had forgotten God. It was possible
because they worshipped simulacra, were loyal to phantoms of race and
empire, permitted themselves to be ruled and misled by idiot princes and
usurper kings. Their minds were turned from God, who alone can rule and
unite mankind, and so they have passed from the glare and follies of
those former years into the darkness and anguish of the present day. And
in darkness and anguish they will remain until they turn to that King
who comes to rule them, until the sword and indignation of God have
overthrown their misleaders and oppressors, and the Justice of God, the
Kingdom of God set high over the republics of mankind, has brought peace
for ever to the world. It is to this militant and imminent God, to this
immortal Captain, this undying Law-giver, that you devote yourselves
to-day.
"For he is imminent now. He comes. I have seen in the east and in the
west, the hearts and the minds and the wills of men turning to him as
surely as when a needle is magnetized it turns towards the north. Even
now as I preach to you here, God stands over us all, ready to receive
us...."
And as he said these words, the long nave of the cathedral, the shadows
of its fretted roof, the brown choir with its golden screen, the rows
of seated figures, became like some picture cast upon a flimsy and
translucent curtain. Once more it seemed to the bishop that he saw
God plain. Once more the glorious effulgence poured about him, and the
beautiful and wonderful conquest of men's hearts and lives was manifest
to him.
He lifted up his hands and cried to God, and with an emotion so
profound, an earnestness so commanding, that very many of those who
were present turned their faces to see the figure to which he looked and
spoke. And some of the children had a strange persuasion of a presence
there, as of a divine figure militant, armed, and serene....
"Oh God our Leader and our Master and our Friend," the bishop prayed,
"forgive our imperfection and our little motives, take us and make us
one with thy great purpose, use us and do not reject us, make us all
here servants of thy kingdom, weave our lives into thy struggle to
conquer and to bring peace and union to the world. We are small and
feeble creatures, we are feeble in speech, feebler still in action,
nevertheless let but thy light shine upon us and there is not one of
us who cannot be lit by thy fire, and who cannot lose himself in thy
salvation. Take us into thy purpose, O God. Let thy kingdom come into
our hearts and into this world."
His voice ceased, and he stood for a measurable time with his arms
extended and his face upturned....
The golden clouds that whirled and eddied so splendidly in his brain
thinned out, his sense of God's immediacy faded and passed, and he was
left aware of the cathedral pulpit in which he stood so strangely posed,
and of the astonished congregation below him. His arms sank to his side.
His eyes fell upon the book in front of him and he felt for and gripped
the two upper corners of it and, regardless of the common order and
practice, read out the Benediction, changing the words involuntarily as
he read:
"The Blessing of God who is the Father, the Son, the Spirit and the King
of all Mankind, be upon you and remain with you for ever. Amen."
Then he looked again, as if to look once more upon that radiant vision
of God, but now he saw only the clear cool space of the cathedral vault
and the coloured glass and tracery of the great rose window. And then,
as the first notes of the organ came pealing above the departing stir of
the congregation, he turned about and descended slowly, like one who is
still half dreaming, from the pulpit.
(13)
In the vestry he found Canon Bliss. "Help me to take off these
garments," the bishop said. "I shall never wear them again."
"You are ill," said the canon, scrutinizing his face.
"Not ill. But the word was taken out of my mouth. I perceive now that
I have been in a trance, a trance in which the truth is real. It is a
fearful thing to find oneself among realities. It is a dreadful thing
when God begins to haunt a priest.... I can never minister in the church
again."
Whippham thrust forward a chair for the bishop to sit down. The bishop
felt now extraordinarily fatigued. He sat down heavily, and rested his
wrists on the arms of the chair. "Already," he resumed presently, "I
begin to forget what it was I said."
"You became excited," said Bliss, "and spoke very loudly and clearly."
"What did I say?"
"I don't know what you said; I have forgotten. I never want to remember.
Things about the Second Advent. Dreadful things. You said God was close
at hand. Happily you spoke partly in Greek. I doubt if any of those
children understood. And you had a kind of lapse--an aphasia. You
mutilated the interrogation and you did not pronounce the
benediction properly. You changed words and you put in words. One sat
frozen--waiting for what would happen next."
"We must postpone the Pringle confirmation," said Whippham. "I wonder to
whom I could telephone."
Lady Ella appeared, and came and knelt down by the bishop's chair. "I
never ought to have let this happen," she said, taking his wrists in her
hands. "You are in a fever, dear."
"It seemed entirely natural to say what I did," the bishop declared.
Lady Ella looked up at Bliss.
"A doctor has been sent for," said the canon to Lady Ella.
"I must speak to the doctor," said Lady Ella as if her husband could
not hear her. "There is something that will make things clearer to the
doctor. I must speak to the doctor for a moment before he sees him."
Came a gust of pretty sounds and a flash of bright colour that shamed
the rich vestments at hand. Over the shoulder of the rector and quite at
the back, appeared Lady Sunderbund resolutely invading the vestry. The
rector intercepted her, stood broad with extended arms.
"I must come in and speak to him. If it is only fo' a moment."
The bishop looked up and saw Lady Ella's expression. Lady Ella was
sitting up very stiffly, listening but not looking round.
A vague horror and a passionate desire to prevent the entry of Lady
Sunderbund at any cost, seized upon the bishop. She would, he felt, be
the last overwhelming complication. He descended to a base subterfuge.
He lay back in his chair slowly as though he unfolded himself, he
covered his eyes with his hand and then groaned aloud.
"Leave me alone!" he cried in a voice of agony. "Leave me alone! I can
see no one.... I can--no more."
There was a momentous silence, and then the tumult of Lady Sunderbund
receded.
CHAPTER THE EIGHTH - THE NEW WORLD
(1)
THAT night the bishop had a temperature of a hundred and a half. The
doctor pronounced him to be in a state of intense mental excitement,
aggravated by some drug. He was a doctor modern and clear-minded enough
to admit that he could not identify the drug. He overruled, every one
overruled, the bishop's declaration that he had done with the church,
that he could never mock God with his episcopal ministrations again,
that he must proceed at once with his resignation. "Don't think of
these things," said the doctor. "Banish them from your mind until your
temperature is down to ninety-eight. Then after a rest you may go into
them."
Lady Ella insisted upon his keeping his room. It was with difficulty
that he got her to admit Whippham, and Whippham was exasperatingly in
order. "You need not trouble about anything now, my lord," he said.
"Everything will keep until you are ready to attend to it. It's well
we're through with Easter. Bishop Buncombe of Eastern Blowdesia
was coming here anyhow. And there is Canon Bliss. There's only two
ordination candidates because of the war. We'll get on swimmingly."
The bishop thought he would like to talk to those two ordination
candidates, but they prevailed upon him not to do so. He lay for the
best part of one night confiding remarkable things to two imaginary
ordination candidates.
He developed a marked liking for Eleanor's company. She was home again
now after a visit to some friends. It was decided that the best thing
to do with him would be to send him away in her charge. A journey abroad
was impossible. France would remind him too dreadfully of the war. His
own mind turned suddenly to the sweet air of Hunstanton. He had gone
there at times to read, in the old Cambridge days. "It is a terribly
ugly place," he said, "but it is wine in the veins."
Lady Ella was doubtful about Zeppelins. Thrice they had been right over
Hunstanton already. They came in by the easy landmark of the Wash.
"It will interest him," said Eleanor, who knew her father better.
(2)
One warm and still and sunny afternoon the bishop found himself looking
out upon the waters of the Wash. He sat where the highest pebble layers
of the beach reached up to a little cliff of sandy earth perhaps a foot
high, and he looked upon sands and sea and sky and saw that they were
beautiful.
He was a little black-gaitered object in a scene of the most exquisite
and delicate colour. Right and left of him stretched the low grey salted
shore, pale banks of marly earth surmounted by green-grey wiry grass
that held and was half buried in fine blown sand. Above, the heavens
made a complete hemisphere of blue in which a series of remote cumulus
clouds floated and dissolved. Before him spread the long levels of the
sands, and far away at its utmost ebb was the sea. Eleanor had gone to
explore the black ribs of a wrecked fishing-boat that lay at the edge of
a shallow lagoon. She was a little pink-footed figure, very bright
and apparently transparent. She had reverted for a time to shameless
childishness; she had hidden her stockings among the reeds of the bank,
and she was running to and fro, from star-fish to razor shell and from
cockle to weed. The shingle was pale drab and purple close at hand, but
to the westward, towards Hunstanton, the sands became brown and
purple, and were presently broken up into endless skerries of low flat
weed-covered boulders and little intensely blue pools. The sea was
a band of sapphire that became silver to the west; it met the silver
shining sands in one delicate breathing edge of intensely white foam.
Remote to the west, very small and black and clear against the afternoon
sky, was a cart, and about it was a score or so of mussel-gatherers.
A little nearer, on an apparently empty stretch of shining wet sand, a
multitude of gulls was mysteriously busy. These two groups of activities
and Eleanor's flitting translucent movements did but set off and
emphasize the immense and soothing tranquillity.
For a long time the bishop sat passively receptive to this healing
beauty. Then a little flow of thought began and gathered in his mind. He
had come out to think over two letters that he had brought with him.
He drew these now rather reluctantly from his pocket, and after a long
pause over the envelopes began to read them.
He reread Likeman's letter first.
Likeman could not forgive him.
"My dear Scrope," he wrote, "your explanation explains nothing. This
sensational declaration of infidelity to our mother church, made under
the most damning and distressing circumstances in the presence of young
and tender minds entrusted to your ministrations, and in defiance of the
honourable engagements implied in the confirmation service, confirms my
worst apprehensions of the weaknesses of your character. I have always
felt the touch of theatricality in your temperament, the peculiar
craving to be pseudo-deeper, pseudo-simpler than us all, the need of
personal excitement. I know that you were never quite contented
to believe in God at second-hand. You wanted to be taken notice
of--personally. Except for some few hints to you, I have never breathed
a word of these doubts to any human being; I have always hoped that
the ripening that comes with years and experience would give you an
increasing strength against the dangers of emotionalism and against your
strong, deep, quiet sense of your exceptional personal importance...."
The bishop read thus far, and then sat reflecting.
Was it just?
He had many weaknesses, but had he this egotism? No; that wasn't
the justice of the case. The old man, bitterly disappointed, was
endeavouring to wound. Scrope asked himself whether he was to blame for
that disappointment. That was a more difficult question....
He dismissed the charge at last, crumpled up the letter in his hand, and
after a moment's hesitation flung it away.... But he remained acutely
sorry, not so much for himself as for the revelation of Likeman this
letter made. He had had a great affection for Likeman and suddenly it
was turned into a wound.
(3)
The second letter was from Lady Sunderbund, and it was an altogether
more remarkable document. Lady Sunderbund wrote on a notepaper that was
evidently the result of a perverse research, but she wrote a letter far
more coherent than her speech, and without that curious falling away
of the r's that flavoured even her gravest observations with an unjust
faint aroma of absurdity. She wrote with a thin pen in a rounded boyish
handwriting. She italicized with slashes of the pen.
He held this letter in both hands between his knees, and considered
it now with an expression that brought his eyebrows forward until they
almost met, and that tucked in the corners of his mouth.
"My dear Bishop," it began.
"I keep thinking and thinking and thinking of that wonderful service, of
the wonderful, wonderful things you said, and the wonderful choice you
made of the moment to say them--when all those young lives were coming
to the great serious thing in life. It was most beautifully done. At any
rate, dear Bishop and Teacher, it was most beautifully begun. And now we
all stand to you like creditors because you have given us so much that
you owe us ever so much more. You have started us and you have to go on
with us. You have broken the shell of the old church, and here we are
running about with nowhere to go. You have to make the shelter of a new
church now for us, purged of errors, looking straight to God. The
King of Mankind!--what a wonderful, wonderful phrase that is. It says
everything. Tell us more of him and more. Count me first--not foremost,
but just the little one that runs in first--among your disciples. They
say you are resigning your position in the church. Of course that must
be true. You are coming out of it--what did you call it?--coming out of
the cracked old vessel from which you have poured the living waters. I
called on Lady Ella yesterday. She did not tell me very much; I think
she is a very reserved as well as a very dignified woman, but she said
that you intended to go to London. In London then I suppose you will set
up the first altar to the Divine King. I want to help.
"Dear Bishop and Teacher, I want to help tremendously--with all my heart
and all my soul. I want to be let do things for you." (The "you" was
erased by three or four rapid slashes, and "our King" substituted.)
"I want to be privileged to help build that First Church of the World
Unified under God. It is a dreadful thing to says but, you see, I am
very rich; this dreadful war has made me ever so much richer--steel and
shipping and things--it is my trustees have done it. I am ashamed to be
so rich. I want to give. I want to give and help this great beginning of
yours. I want you to let me help on the temporal side, to make it
easy for you to stand forth and deliver your message, amidst suitable
surroundings and without any horrid worries on account of the sacrifices
you have made. Please do not turn my offering aside. I have never wanted
anything so much in all my life as I want to make this gift. Unless I
can make it I feel that for me there is no salvation! I shall stick with
my loads and loads of stocks and shares and horrid possessions outside
the Needle's Eye. But if I could build a temple for God, and just live
somewhere near it so as to be the poor woman who sweeps out the chapels,
and die perhaps and be buried under its floor! Don't smile at me. I
mean every word of it. Years ago I thought of such a thing. After I had
visited the Certosa di Pavia--do you know it? So beautiful, and those
two still alabaster figures--recumbent. But until now I could never see
my way to any such service. Now I do. I am all afire to do it. Help me!
Tell me! Let me stand behind you and make your mission possible. I feel
I have come to the most wonderful phase in my life. I feel my call has
come....
"I have written this letter over three times, and torn each of them up.
I do so want to say all this, and it is so desperately hard to say. I am
full of fears that you despise me. I know there is a sort of high colour
about me. My passion for brightness. I am absurd. But inside of me is
a soul, a real, living, breathing soul. Crying out to you: 'Oh, let me
help! Let me help!' I will do anything, I will endure anything if only I
can keep hold of the vision splendid you gave me in the cathedral. I see
it now day and night, the dream of the place I can make for you--and you
preaching! My fingers itch to begin. The day before yesterday I said
to myself, 'I am quite unworthy, I am a worldly woman, a rich, smart,
decorated woman. He will never accept me as I am.' I took off all
my jewels, every one, I looked through all my clothes, and at last I
decided I would have made for me a very simple straight grey dress, just
simple and straight and grey. Perhaps you will think that too is absurd
of me, too self-conscious. I would not tell of it to you if I did not
want you to understand how alive I am to my utter impossibilities, how
resolved I am to do anything so that I may be able to serve. But never
mind about silly me; let me tell you how I see the new church.
"I think you ought to have some place near the centre of London; not too
west, for you might easily become fashionable, not too east because you
might easily be swallowed up in merely philanthropic work, but somewhere
between the two. There must be vacant sites still to be got round about
Kingsway. And there we must set up your tabernacle, a very plain, very
simple, very beautifully proportioned building in which you can
give your message. I know a young man, just the very young man to do
something of the sort, something quite new, quite modern, and yet solemn
and serious. Lady Ella seemed to think you wanted to live somewhere in
the north-west of London--but she would tell me very little. I seem to
see you not there at all, not in anything between west-end and suburb,
but yourself as central as your mind, in a kind of clergy house that
will be part of the building. That is how it is in my dream anyhow. All
that though can be settled afterwards. My imagination and my desire is
running away with me. It is no time yet for premature plans. Not that
I am not planning day and night. This letter is simply to offer. I just
want to offer. Here I am and all my worldly goods. Take me, I pray you.
And not only pray you. Take me, I demand of you, in the name of God our
king. I have a right to be used. And you have no right to refuse me. You
have to go on with your message, and it is your duty to take me--just as
you are obliged to step on any steppingstone that lies on your way to
do God service.... And so I am waiting. I shall be waiting--on thorns.
I know you will take your time and think. But do not take too much time.
Think of me waiting.
"Your servant, your most humble helper in God (your God),
"AGATHA SUNDERBUND."
And then scrawled along the margin of the last sheet:
"If, when you know--a telegram. Even if you cannot say so much as
'Agreed,' still such a word as 'Favourable.' I just hang over the Void
until I hear.
"AGATHA S."
A letter demanding enormous deliberation. She argued closely in spite of
her italics. It had never dawned upon the bishop before how light is
the servitude of the disciple in comparison with the servitude of the
master. In many ways this proposal repelled and troubled him, in many
ways it attracted him. And the argument of his clear obligation to
accept her co-operation gripped him; it was a good argument.
And besides it worked in very conveniently with certain other
difficulties that perplexed him.
(4)
The bishop became aware that Eleanor was returning to him across the
sands. She had made an end to her paddling, she had put on her shoes and
stockings and become once more the grave and responsible young woman
who had been taking care of him since his flight from Princhester. He
replaced the two letters in his pocket, and sat ready to smile as she
drew near; he admired her open brow, the toss of her hair, and the poise
of her head upon her neck. It was good to note that her hard reading at
Cambridge hadn't bent her shoulders in the least....
"Well, old Dad!" she said as she drew near. "You've got back a colour."
"I've got back everything. It's time I returned to Princhester."
"Not in this weather. Not for a day or so." She flung herself at his
feet. "Consider your overworked little daughter. Oh,how good this is!"
"No," said the bishop in a grave tone that made her look up into his
face. "I must go hack."
He met her clear gaze. "What do you think of all this business,
Eleanor?" he asked abruptly. "Do you think I had a sort of fit in the
cathedral?"
He winced as he asked the question.
"Daddy," she said, after a little pause; "the things you said and did
that afternoon were the noblest you ever did in your life. I wish I had
been there. It must have been splendid to be there. I've not told you
before--I've been dying to.... I'd promised not to say a word--not to
remind you. I promised the doctor. But now you ask me, now you are well
again, I can tell you. Kitty Kingdom has told me all about it, how it
felt. It was like light and order coming into a hopeless dark muddle.
What you said was like what we have all been trying to think--I mean all
of us young people. Suddenly it was all clear."
She stopped short. She was breathless with the excitement of her
confession.
Her father too remained silent for a little while. He was reminded of
his weakness; he was, he perceived, still a little hysterical. He felt
that he might weep at her youthful enthusiasm if he did not restrain
himself.
"I'm glad," he said, and patted her shoulder. "I'm glad, Norah."
She looked away from him out across the lank brown sands and water pools
to the sea. "It was what we have all been feeling our way towards, the
absolute simplification of religion, the absolute simplification of
politics and social duty; just God, just God the King."
"But should I have said that--in the cathedral?"
She felt no scruples. "You had to," she said.
"But now think what it means," he said. "I must leave the church."
"As a man strips off his coat for a fight."
"That doesn't dismay you?"
She shook her head, and smiled confidently to sea and sky.
"I'm glad if you're with me," he said. "Sometimes--I think--I'm not a
very self-reliant man."
"You'll have all the world with you," she was convinced, "in a little
time."
"Perhaps rather a longer time than you think, Norah. In the meantime--"
She turned to him once more.
"In the meantime there are a great many things to consider. Young
people, they say, never think of the transport that is needed to win a
battle. I have it in my mind that I should leave the church. But I can't
just walk out into the marketplace and begin preaching there. I see the
family furniture being carried out of the palace and put into vans. It
has to go somewhere...."
"I suppose you will go to London."
"Possibly. In fact certainly. I have a plan. Or at least an
opportunity.... But that isn't what I have most in mind. These things
are not done without emotion and a considerable strain upon one's
personal relationships. I do not think this--I do not think your mother
sees things as we do."
"She will," said young enthusiasm, "when she understands."
"I wish she did. But I have been unlucky in the circumstances of
my explanations to her. And of course you understand all this means
risks--poverty perhaps--going without things--travel, opportunity, nice
possessions--for all of us. A loss of position too. All this sort of
thing," he stuck out a gaitered calf and smiled, "will have to go.
People, some of them, may be disasagreeable to us...."
"After all, Daddy," she said, smiling, "it isn't so bad as the cross and
the lions and burning pitch. And you have the Truth."
"You do believe--?" He left his sentence unfinished.
She nodded, her face aglow. "We know you have the Truth."
"Of course in my own mind now it is very clear. I had a kind of
illumination...." He would have tried to tell her of his vision, and
he was too shy. "It came to me suddenly that the whole world was in
confusion because men followed after a thousand different immediate
aims, when really it was quite easy, if only one could be simple it was
quite easy, to show that nearly all men could only be fully satisfied
and made happy in themselves by one single aim, which was also the aim
that would make the whole world one great order, and that aim was to
make God King of one's heart and the whole world. I saw that all this
world, except for a few base monstrous spirits, was suffering hideous
things because of this war, and before the war it was full of folly,
waste, social injustice and suspicion for the same reason, because it
had not realized the kingship of God. And that is so simple; the essence
of God is simplicity. The sin of this war lies with men like myself, men
who set up to tell people about God, more than it lies with any other
class--"
"Kings?" she interjected. "Diplomatists? Finance?"
"Yes. Those men could only work mischief in the world because the
priests and teachers let them. All things human lie at last at the
door of the priest and teacher. Who differentiate, who qualify and
complicate, who make mean unnecessary elaborations, and so divide
mankind. If it were not for the weakness and wickedness of the priests,
every one would know and understand God. Every one who was modest enough
not to set up for particular knowledge. Men disputed whether God is
Finite or Infinite, whether he has a triple or a single aspect. How
should they know? All we need to know is the face he turns to us. They
impose their horrible creeds and distinctions. None of those things
matter. Call him Christ the God or call him simply God, Allah, Heaven;
it does not matter. He comes to us, we know, like a Helper and Friend;
that is all we want to know. You may speculate further if you like, but
it is not religion. They dispute whether he can set aside nature. But
that is superstition. He is either master of nature and he knows that it
is good, or he is part of nature and must obey. That is an argument for
hair-splitting metaphysicians. Either answer means the same for us. It
does not matter which way we come to believe that he does not idly set
the course of things aside. Obviously he does not set the course of
things aside. What he does do for certain is to give us courage and save
us from our selfishness and the bitter hell it makes for us. And every
one knows too what sort of things we want, and for what end we want
to escape from ourselves. We want to do right. And right, if you think
clearly, is just truth within and service without, the service of God's
kingdom, which is mankind, the service of human needs and the increase
of human power and experience. It is all perfectly plain, it is all
quite easy for any one to understand, who isn't misled and chattered at
and threatened and poisoned by evil priests and teachers."
"And you are going to preach that, Daddy?"
"If I can. When I am free--you know I have still to resign and give
up--I shall make that my message."
"And so God comes."
"God comes as men perceive him in his simplicity.... Let men but see God
simply, and forthwith God and his kingdom possess the world."
She looked out to sea in silence for awhile.
Then she turned to her father. "And you think that His Kingdom will
come--perhaps in quite a little time--perhaps in our lifetimes? And
that all these ridiculous or wicked little kings and emperors, and
these political parties, and these policies and conspiracies, and
this nationalist nonsense and all the patriotism and rowdyism, all the
private profit-seeking and every baseness in life, all the things that
it is so horrible and disgusting to be young among and powerless among,
you think they will fade before him?"
The bishop pulled his faith together.
"They will fade before him--but whether it will take a lifetime or a
hundred lifetimes or a thousand lifetimes, my Norah--"
He smiled and left his sentence unfinished, and she smiled back at him
to show she understood.
And then he confessed further, because he did not want to seem merely
sentimentally hopeful.
"When I was in the cathedral, Norah--and just before that service, it
seemed to me--it was very real.... It seemed that perhaps the Kingdom of
God is nearer than we suppose, that it needs but the faith and courage
of a few, and it may be that we may even live to see the dawning of his
kingdom, even--who knows?--the sunrise. I am so full of faith and hope
that I fear to be hopeful with you. But whether it is near or far--"
"We work for it," said Eleanor.
Eleanor thought, eyes downcast for a little while, and then looked up.
"It is so wonderful to talk to you like this, Daddy. In the old days, I
didn't dream--Before I went to Newnham. I misjudged you. I thought Never
mind what I thought. It was silly. But now I am so proud of you. And so
happy to be back with you, Daddy, and find that your religion is after
all just the same religion that I have been wanting."
CHAPTER THE NINTH - THE THIRD VISION
(1)
ONE afternoon in October, four months and more after that previous
conversation, the card of Mr. Edward Scrope was brought up to Dr.
Brighton-Pomfrey. The name awakened no memories. The doctor descended to
discover a man so obviously in unaccustomed plain clothes that he had a
momentary disagreeable idea that he was facing a detective. Then he saw
that this secular disguise draped the familiar form of his old friend,
the former Bishop of Princhester. Scrope was pale and a little untidy;
he had already acquired something of the peculiar, slightly faded
quality one finds in a don who has gone to Hampstead and fallen amongst
advanced thinkers and got mixed up with the Fabian Society. His anxious
eyes and faintly propitiatory manner suggested an impending appeal.
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey had the savoir-faire of a successful consultant; he
prided himself on being all things to all men; but just for an instant
he was at a loss what sort of thing he had to be here. Then he adopted
the genial, kindly, but by no means lavishly generous tone advisable
in the case of a man who has suffered considerable social deterioration
without being very seriously to blame.
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey was a little round-faced man with defective
eyesight and an unsuitable nose for the glasses he wore, and he
flaunted--God knows why--enormous side-whiskers.
"Well," he said, balancing the glasses skilfully by throwing back his
head, "and how are you? And what can I do for you? There's no external
evidence of trouble. You're looking lean and a little pale, but
thoroughly fit."
"Yes," said the late bishop, "I'm fairly fit--"
"Only--?" said the doctor, smiling his teeth, with something of the
manner of an old bathing woman who tells a child to jump.
"Well, I'm run down and--worried."
"We'd better sit down," said the great doctor professionally, and looked
hard at him. Then he pulled at the arm of a chair.
The ex-bishop sat down, and the doctor placed himself between his
patient and the light.
"This business of resigning my bishopric and so forth has involved very
considerable strains," Scrope began. "That I think is the essence of the
trouble. One cuts so many associations.... I did not realize how
much feeling there would be.... Difficulties too of readjusting one's
position."
"Zactly. Zactly. Zactly," said the doctor, snapping his face and making
his glasses vibrate. "Run down. Want a tonic or a change?"
"Yes. In fact--I want a particular tonic."
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey made his eyes and mouth round and interrogative.
"While you were away last spring--"
"Had to go," said the doctor, "unavoidable. Gas gangrene. Certain
enquiries. These young investigators all very well in their way. But we
older reputations--Experience. Maturity of judgment. Can't do without
us. Yes?"
"Well, I came here last spring and saw, an assistant I suppose he was,
or a supply,--do you call them supplies in your profession?--named, I
think--Let me see--D--?"
"Dale!"
The doctor as he uttered this word set his face to the unaccustomed
exercise of expressing malignity. His round blue eyes sought to blaze,
small cherubic muscles exerted themselves to pucker his brows. His
colour became a violent pink. "Lunatic!" he said. "Dangerous Lunatic! He
didn't do anything--anything bad in your case, did he?"
He was evidently highly charged with grievance in this matter. "That man
was sent to me from Cambridge with the highest testimonials. The
very highest. I had to go at twenty-four hours' notice. Enquiry--gas
gangrene. There was nothing for it but to leave things in his hands."
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey disavowed responsibility with an open,
stumpy-fingered hand.
"He did me no particular harm," said Scrope.
"You are the first he spared," said Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey.
"Did he--? Was he unskilful?"
"Unskilful is hardly the word."
"Were his methods peculiar?"
The little doctor sprang to his feet and began to pace about the room.
"Peculiar!" he said. "It was abominable that they should send him to me.
Abominable!"
He turned, with all the round knobs that constituted his face, aglow.
His side-whiskers waved apart like wings about to flap. He protruded his
face towards his seated patient. "I am glad that he has been killed," he
said. "Glad! There!"
His glasses fell off--shocked beyond measure. He did not heed them. They
swung about in front of him as if they sought to escape while he poured
out his feelings.
"Fool!" he spluttered with demonstrative gestures. "Dangerous fool! His
one idea--to upset everybody. Drugs, Sir! The most terrible drugs! I
come back. Find ladies. High social position. Morphine-maniacs. Others.
Reckless use of the most dangerous expedients.... Cocaine not in it.
Stimulants--violent stimulants. In the highest quarters. Terrible.
Exalted persons. Royalty! Anxious to be given war work and become
anonymous.... Horrible! He's been a terrible influence. One idea--to
disturb soul and body. Minds unhinged. Personal relations deranged.
Shattered the practice of years. The harm he has done! The harm!"
He looked as though he was trying to burst--as a final expression of
wrath. He failed. His hands felt trembling to recover his pince-nez.
Then from his tail pocket he produced a large silk handkerchief and
wiped the glasses. Replaced them. Wriggled his head in his collar,
running his fingers round his neck. Patted his tie.
"Excuse this outbreak!" he said. "But Dr. Dale has inflicted injuries!"
Scrope got up, walked slowly to the window, clasping his hands behind
his back, and turned. His manner still retained much of his episcopal
dignity. "I am sorry. But still you can no doubt tell from your books
what it was he gave me. It was a tonic that had a very great effect on
me. And I need it badly now."
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey was quietly malignant. "He kept no diary at all,"
he said. "No diary at all."
"But
"If he did," said Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey, holding up a flat hand and
wagging it from side to side, "I wouldn't follow his treatment."
He intensified with the hand going faster. "I wouldn't follow his
treatment. Not under any circumstances."
"Naturally," said Scrope, "if the results are what you say. But in
my case it wasn't a treatment. I was sleepless, confused in my mind,
wretched and demoralized; I came here, and he just produced the
stuff--It clears the head, it clears the mind. One seems to get away
from the cloud of things, to get through to essentials and fundamentals.
It straightened me out.... You must know such a stuff. Just now,
confronted with all sorts of problems arising out of my resignation,
I want that tonic effect again. I must have it. I have matters to
decide--and I can't decide. I find myself uncertain, changeable from
hour to hour. I don't ask you to take up anything of this man Dale's.
This is a new occasion. But I want that drug."
At the beginning of this speech Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey's hands had fallen
to his hips. As Scrope went on the doctor's pose had stiffened. His head
had gone a little on one side; he had begun to play with his glasses.
At the end he gave vent to one or two short coughs, and then pointed his
words with his glasses held out.
"Tell me," he said, "tell me." (Cough.) "Had this drug that cleared your
head--anything to do with your resignation?"
And he put on his glasses disconcertingly, and threw his head back to
watch the reply.
"It did help to clear up the situation."
"Exactly," said Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey in a tone that defined his own
position with remorseless clearness. "Exactly." And he held up a flat,
arresting hand. .
"My dear Sir," he said. "How can you expect me to help you to a drug so
disastrous?--even if I could tell you what it is."
"But it was not disastrous to me," said Scrope.
"Your extraordinary resignation--your still more extraordinary way of
proclaiming it!"
"I don't think those were disasters."
"But my dear Sir!"
"You don't want to discuss theology with me, I know. So let me tell you
simply that from my point of view the illumination that came to me--this
drug of Dr. Dale's helping--has been the great release of my life. It
crystallized my mind. It swept aside the confusing commonplace things
about me. Just for a time I saw truth clearly.... I want to do so
again."
"Why?"
"There is a crisis in my affairs--never mind what. But I cannot see my
way clear."
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey was meditating now with his eyes on his carpet
and the corners of his mouth tucked in. He was swinging his glasses
pendulum-wise. "Tell me," he said, looking sideways at Scrope, "what
were the effects of this drug? It may have been anything. How did it
give you this--this vision of the truth--that led to your resignation?"
Scrope felt a sudden shyness. But he wanted Dale's drug again so badly
that he obliged himself to describe his previous experiences to the best
of his ability.
"It was," he said in a matter-of-fact tone, "a golden, transparent
liquid. Very golden, like a warm-tinted Chablis. When water was added
it became streaked and opalescent, with a kind of living quiver in it. I
held it up to the light."
"Yes? And when you took it?"
"I felt suddenly clearer. My mind--I had a kind of exaltation and
assurance."
"Your mind," Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey assisted, "began to go twenty-nine to
the dozen."
"It felt stronger and clearer," said Scrope, sticking to his quest.
"And did things look as usual?" asked the doctor, protruding his knobby
little face like a clenched fist.
"No," said Scrope and regarded him. How much was it possible to tell a
man of this type?
"They differed?" said the doctor, relaxing.
"Yes.... Well, to be plain.... I had an immediate sense of God. I
saw the world--as if it were a transparent curtain, and then God
became--evident.... Is it possible for that to determine the drug?"
"God became--evident," the doctor said with some distaste, and shook his
head slowly. Then in a sudden sharp cross-examining tone: "You mean you
had a vision? Actually saw 'um?"
"It was in the form of a vision." Scrope was now mentally very
uncomfortable indeed.
The doctor's lips repeated these words noiselessly, with an effect of
contempt. "He must have given you something--It's a little like morphia.
But golden--opalescent? And it was this vision made you astonish us all
with your resignation?"
"That was part of a larger process," said Scrope patiently. "I had been
drifting into a complete repudiation of the Anglican positions long
before that. All that this drug did was to make clear what was already
in my mind. And give it value. Act as a developer."
The doctor suddenly gave way to a botryoidal hilarity. "To think that
one should be consulted about visions of God--in Mount Street!" he said.
"And you know, you know you half want to believe that vision was real.
You know you do."
So far Scrope had been resisting his realization of failure. Now he
gave way to an exasperation that made him reckless of Brighton-Pomfrey's
opinion. "I do think," he said, "that that drug did in some way make God
real to me. I think I saw God."
Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey shook his head in a way that made Scrope want to
hit him.
"I think I saw God," he repeated more firmly. "I had a sudden
realization of how great he was and how great life was, and how timid
and mean and sordid were all our genteel, professional lives. I was
seized upon, for a time I was altogether possessed by a passion to serve
him fitly and recklessly, to make an end to compromises with comfort and
self-love and secondary things. And I want to hold to that. I want to
get back to that. I am given to lassitudes. I relax. I am by temperament
an easy-going man. I want to buck myself up, I want to get on with my
larger purposes, and I find myself tired, muddled, entangled.... The
drug was a good thing. For me it was a good thing. I want its help
again."
"I know no more than you do what it was."
"Are there no other drugs that you do know, that have a kindred effect?
If for example I tried morphia in some form?"
"You'd get visions. They wouldn't be divine visions. If you took small
quantities very discreetly you might get a temporary quickening. But
the swift result of all repeated drug-taking is, I can assure you,
moral decay--rapid moral decay. To touch drugs habitually is to become
hopelessly unpunctual, untruthful, callously selfish and insincere. I am
talking mere textbook, mere everyday common-places, to you when I tell
you that."
"I had an idea. I had a hope...."
"You've a stiff enough fight before you," said the doctor, "without such
a handicap as that."
"You won't help me?"
The doctor walked up and down his hearthrug, and then delivered himself
with an extended hand and waggling fingers.
"I wouldn't if I could. For your good I wouldn't. And even if I would
I couldn't, for I don't know the drug. One of his infernal brews,
no doubt. Something--accidental. It's lost--for good--for your good,
anyhow...."
(2)
Scrope halted outside the stucco portals of the doctor's house. He
hesitated whether he should turn to the east or the west.
"That door closes," he said. "There's no getting back that way."...
He stood for a time on the kerb. He turned at last towards Park Lane and
Hyde Park. He walked along thoughtfully, inattentively steering a course
for his new home in Pembury Road, Notting Hill.
(3)
At the outset of this new phase in Scrope's life that had followed the
crisis of the confirmation service, everything had seemed very clear
before him. He believed firmly that he had been shown God, that he had
himself stood in the presence of God, and that there had been a plain
call to him to proclaim God to the world. He had realized God, and it
was the task of every one who had realized God to help all mankind to
the same realization. The proposal of Lady Sunderbund had fallen in with
that idea. He had been steeling himself to a prospect of struggle and
dire poverty, but her prompt loyalty had come as an immense relief to
his anxiety for his wife and family. When he had talked to Eleanor
upon the beach at Hunstanton it had seemed to him that his course was
manifest, perhaps a little severe but by no means impossible. They had
sat together in the sunshine, exalted by a sense of fine adventure and
confident of success, they had looked out upon the future, upon
the great near future in which the idea of God was to inspire and
reconstruct the world.
It was only very slowly that this pristine clearness became clouded and
confused. It had not been so easy as Eleanor had supposed to win over
the sympathy of Lady Ella with his resignation. Indeed it had not been
won over. She had become a stern and chilling companion, mute now upon
the issue of his resignation, but manifestly resentful. He was secretly
disappointed and disconcerted by her tone. And the same hesitation of
the mind, instinctive rather than reasoned, that had prevented a frank
explanation of his earlier doubts to her, now restrained him from
telling her naturally and at once of the part that Lady Sunderbund was
to play in his future ministry. In his own mind he felt assured about
that part, but in order to excuse his delay in being frank with his
wife, he told himself that he was not as yet definitely committed to
Lady Sunderbund's project. And in accordance with that idea he set
up housekeeping in London upon a scale that implied a very complete
cessation of income. "As yet," he told Lady Ella, "we do not know where
we stand. For a time we must not so much house ourselves as camp. We
must take some quite small and modest house in some less expensive
district. If possible I would like to take it for a year, until we know
better how things are with us."
He reviewed a choice of London districts.
Lady Ella said her bitterest thing. "Does it matter where we hide our
heads?"
That wrung him to: "We are not hiding our heads."
She repented at once. "I am sorry, Ted," she said. "It slipped from
me."...
He called it camping, but the house they had found in Pembury Road,
Notting Hill, was more darkened and less airy than any camp. Neither he
nor his wife had ever had any experience of middle-class house-hunting
or middle-class housekeeping before, and they spent three of the most
desolating days of their lives in looking for this cheap and modest
shelter for their household possessions. Hitherto life had moved them
from one established and comfortable home to another; their worst
affliction had been the modern decorations of the Palace at Princhester,
and it was altogether a revelation to them to visit house after house,
ill-lit, ill-planned, with dingy paint and peeling wallpaper, kitchens
for the most part underground, and either without bathrooms or with
built-out bathrooms that were manifestly grudging afterthoughts, such
as harbour the respectable middle classes of London. The house agents
perceived intimations of helplessness in their manner, adopted a
"rushing" method with them strange to people who had hitherto lived in
a glowing halo of episcopal dignity. "Take it or leave it," was the note
of those gentlemen; "there are always people ready for houses." The
line that property in land and houses takes in England, the ex-bishop
realized, is always to hold up and look scornful. The position of the
land-owning, house-owning class in a crowded country like England is
ultra-regal. It is under no obligation to be of use, and people are
obliged to get down to the land somewhere. They cannot conduct business
and rear families in the air. England's necessity is the landlord's
opportunity....
Scrope began to generalize about this, and develop a new and sincerer
streak of socialism in his ideas. "The church has been very remiss,"
he said, as he and Lady Ella stared at the basement "breakfast room" of
their twenty-seventh dismal possibility. "It should have insisted far
more than it has done upon the landlord's responsibility. No one should
tolerate the offer of such a house as this--at such a rent--to decent
people. It is unrighteous."
At the house agent's he asked in a cold, intelligent ruling-class voice,
the name of the offending landlord.
"It's all the property of the Ecclesiastical Commissioners that side of
the railway," said the agent, picking his teeth with a pin. "Lazy
lot. Dreadfully hard to get 'em to do anything. Own some of the worst
properties in London."
Lady Ella saw things differently again. "If you had stayed in the
church," she said afterwards, "you might have helped to alter such
things as that."
At the time he had no answer.
"But," he said presently as they went back in the tube to their modest
Bloomsbury hotel, "if I had stayed in the church I should never have
realized things like that."
(4)
But it does no justice to Lady Ella to record these two unavoidable
expressions of regret without telling also of the rallying courage with
which she presently took over the task of resettling herself and her
stricken family. Her husband's change of opinion had fallen upon her out
of a clear sky, without any premonition, in one tremendous day. In one
day there had come clamouring upon her, with an effect of revelation
after revelation, the ideas of drugs, of heresy and blasphemy, of an
alien feminine influence, of the entire moral and material breakdown of
the man who had been the centre of her life. Never was the whole world
of a woman so swiftly and comprehensively smashed. All the previous
troubles of her life seemed infinitesimal in comparison with any single
item in this dismaying debacle. She tried to consolidate it in the idea
that he was ill, "disordered." She assured herself that he would
return from Hunstanton restored to health and orthodoxy, with all
his threatenings of a resignation recalled; the man she had loved and
trusted to succeed in the world and to do right always according to her
ideas. It was only with extreme reluctance that she faced the fact that
with the fumes of the drug dispelled and all signs of nervous exhaustion
gone, he still pressed quietly but resolutely toward a severance from
the church. She tried to argue with him and she found she could not
argue. The church was a crystal sphere in which her life was wholly
contained, her mind could not go outside it even to consider a
dissentient proposition.
While he was at Hunstanton, every day she had prayed for an hour, some
days she had prayed for several hours, in the cathedral, kneeling upon
a harsh hassock that hurt her knees. Even in her prayers she could not
argue nor vary. She prayed over and over again many hundreds of times:
"Bring him back, dear Lord. Bring him back again."
In the past he had always been a very kind and friendly mate to her, but
sometimes he had been irritable about small things, especially during
his seasons of insomnia; now he came back changed, a much graver man,
rather older in his manner, carefully attentive to her, kinder and more
watchful, at times astonishingly apologetic, but rigidly set upon his
purpose of leaving the church. "I know you do not think with me in
this," he said. "I have to pray you to be patient with me. I have
struggled with my conscience.... For a time it means hardship, I know.
Poverty. But if you will trust me I think I shall be able to pull
through. There are ways of doing my work. Perhaps we shall not have to
undergo this cramping in this house for very long...."
"It is not the poverty I fear," said Lady Ella.
And she did face the worldly situation, if a little sadly, at any
rate with the courage of practical energy. It was she who stood in
one ungainly house after another and schemed how to make discomforts
tolerable, while Scrope raged unhelpfully at landlordism and the
responsibility of the church for economic disorder. It was she who at
last took decisions into her hands when he was too jaded to do anything
but generalize weakly, and settled upon the house in Pembury Road which
became their London home. She got him to visit Hunstanton again for half
a week while she and Miriam, who was the practical genius of the family,
moved in and made the new home presentable. At the best it was barely
presentable. There were many plain hardships. The girls had to share one
of the chief bedrooms in common instead of their jolly little individual
dens at Princhester.... One little room was all that could be squeezed
out as a study for "father"; it was not really a separate room, it was
merely cut off by closed folding doors from the dining-room, folding
doors that slowly transmitted the dinner flavours to a sensitive worker,
and its window looked out upon a blackened and uneventful yard and the
skylights of a populous, conversational, and high-spirited millinery
establishment that had been built over the corresponding garden of the
house in Restharrow Street. Lady Ella had this room lined with open
shelves, and Clementina (in the absence of Eleanor at Newuham)
arranged the pick of her father's books. It is to be noted as a fact of
psychological interest that this cramped, ill-lit little room distressed
Lady Ella more than any other of the discomforts of their new quarters.
The bishop's writing-desk filled a whole side of it. Parsimony ruled her
mind, but she could not resist the impulse to get him at least a seemly
reading-lamp.
He came back from Hunstanton full of ideas for work in London. He was,
he thought, going to "write something" about his views. He was very
grateful and much surprised at what she had done to that forbidding
house, and full of hints and intimations that it would not be long
before they moved to something roomier. She was disposed to seek some
sort of salaried employment for Clementina and Miriam at least, but he
would not hear of that. "They must go on and get educated," he said, "if
I have to give up smoking to do it. Perhaps I may manage even without
that." Eleanor, it seemed, had a good prospect of a scholarship at the
London School of Economics that would practically keep her. There would
be no Cambridge for Clementina, but London University might still be
possible with a little pinching, and the move to London had really
improved the prospects of a good musical training for Miriam. Phoebe and
Daphne, Lady Ella believed, might get in on special terms at the Notting
Hill High School.
Scrope found it difficult to guess at what was going on in the heads
of his younger daughters. None displayed such sympathy as Eleanor had
confessed. He had a feeling that his wife had schooled them to say
nothing about the change in their fortunes to him. But they quarrelled
a good deal, he could hear, about the use of the one bathroom--there was
never enough hot water after the second bath. And Miriam did not seem to
enjoy playing the new upright piano in the drawing-room as much as
she had done the Princhester grand it replaced. Though she was always
willing to play that thing he liked; he knew now that it was the Adagio
of Of. 111; whenever he asked for it.
London servants, Lady Ella found, were now much more difficult to get
than they had been in the Holy Innocents' days in St. John's Wood. And
more difficult to manage when they were got. The households of the more
prosperous clergy are much sought after by domestics of a serious and
excellent type; an unfrocked clergyman's household is by no means
so attractive. The first comers were young women of unfortunate
dispositions; the first cook was reluctant and insolent, she went before
her month was up; the second careless; she made burnt potatoes and
cindered chops, underboiled and overboiled eggs; a "dropped" look about
everything, harsh coffee and bitter tea seemed to be a natural aspect of
the state of being no longer a bishop. He would often after a struggle
with his nerves in the bedroom come humming cheerfully to breakfast, to
find that Phoebe, who was a delicate eater, had pushed her plate away
scarcely touched, while Lady Ella sat at the end of the table in a state
of dangerous calm, framing comments for delivering downstairs that would
be sure to sting and yet leave no opening for repartee, and trying at
the same time to believe that a third cook, if the chances were risked
again, would certainly be "all right."
The drawing-room was papered with a morose wallpaper that the landlord,
in view of the fact that Scrope in his optimism would only take the
house on a yearly agreement, had refused to replace; it was a design of
very dark green leaves and grey gothic arches; and the apartment was lit
by a chandelier, which spilt a pool of light in the centre of the room
and splashed useless weak patches elsewhere. Lady Ella had to interfere
to prevent the monopolization of this centre by Phoebe and Daphne for
their home work. This light trouble was difficult to arrange; the plain
truth was that there was not enough illumination to go round. In the
Princhester drawing-room there had been a number of obliging little
electric pushes. The size of the dining-room, now that the study was
cut off from it, forbade hospitality. As it was, with only the family at
home, the housemaid made it a grievance that she could scarcely squeeze
by on the sideboard side to wait.
The house vibrated to the trains in the adjacent underground railway.
There was a lady next door but one who was very pluckily training a
contralto voice that most people would have gladly thrown away. At the
end of Restharrow Street was a garage, and a yard where chauffeurs were
accustomed to "tune up" their engines. All these facts were persistently
audible to any one sitting down in the little back study to think out
this project of "writing something," about a change in the government of
the whole world. Petty inconveniences no doubt all these inconveniences
were, but they distressed a rather oversensitive mind which was also
acutely aware that even upon this scale living would cost certainly two
hundred and fifty pounds if not more in excess of the little private
income available.
(5)
These domestic details, irrelevant as they may seem in a spiritual
history, need to be given because they added an intimate keenness
to Scrope's readiness for this private chapel enterprise that he was
discussing with Lady Sunderbund. Along that line and along that line
alone, he saw the way of escape from the great sea of London dinginess
that threatened to submerge his family. And it was also, he felt, the
line of his duty; it was his "call."
At least that was how he felt at first. And then matters began to grow
complicated again.
Things had gone far between himself and Lady Sunderbund since that
letter he had read upon the beach at Old Hunstanton. The blinds of the
house with the very very blue door in Princhester had been drawn
from the day when the first vanload of the renegade bishop's private
possessions had departed from the palace. The lady had returned to
the brightly decorated flat overlooking Hyde Park. He had seen her
repeatedly since then, and always with a fairly clear understanding that
she was to provide the chapel and pulpit in which he was to proclaim to
London the gospel of the Simplicity and Universality of God. He was to
be the prophet of a reconsidered faith, calling the whole world from
creeds and sects, from egotisms and vain loyalties, from prejudices of
race and custom, to the worship and service of the Divine King of all
mankind. That in fact had been the ruling resolve in his mind, the
resolve determining his relations not only with Lady Sunderbund but with
Lady Ella and his family, his friends, enemies and associates. He had
set out upon this course unchecked by any doubt, and overriding the
manifest disapproval of his wife and his younger daughters. Lady
Sunderbund's enthusiasm had been enormous and sustaining....
Almost imperceptibly that resolve had weakened. Imperceptibly at first.
Then the decline had been perceived as one sometimes perceives a thing
in the background out of the corner of one's eye.
In all his early anticipations of the chapel enterprise, he had imagined
himself in the likeness of a small but eloquent figure standing in a
large exposed place and calling this lost misled world back to God. Lady
Sunderbund, he assumed, was to provide the large exposed place (which
was dimly paved with pews) and guarantee that little matter which was
to relieve him of sordid anxieties for his family, the stipend. He had
agreed in an inattentive way that this was to be eight hundred a year,
with a certain proportion of the subscriptions. "At first, I shall be
the chief subscriber," she said. "Before the rush comes." He had been
so content to take all this for granted and think no more about it--more
particularly to think no more about it--that for a time he entirely
disregarded the intense decorative activities into which Lady Sunderbund
incontinently plunged. Had he been inclined to remark them he certainly
might have done so, even though a considerable proportion was being
thoughtfully veiled for a time from his eyes.
For example, there was the young architect with the wonderful tie whom
he met once or twice at lunch in the Hyde Park flat. This young man
pulled the conversation again and again, Lady Sunderbund aiding and
abetting, in the direction of the "ideal church." It was his ambition,
he said, someday, to build an ideal church, "divorced from tradition."
Scrope had been drawn at last into a dissertation. He said that hitherto
all temples and places of worship had been conditioned by orientation
due to the seasonal aspects of religion, they pointed to the west or--as
in the case of the Egyptian temples--to some particular star, and by
sacramentalism, which centred everything on a highly lit sacrificial
altar. It was almost impossible to think of a church built upon other
lines than that. The architect would be so free that--
"Absolutely free," interrupted the young architect. "He might, for
example, build a temple like a star."
"Or like some wondyful casket," said Lady Sunderbund....
And also there was a musician with fuzzy hair and an impulsive way of
taking the salted almonds, who wanted to know about religious music.
Scrope hazarded the idea that a chanting people was a religious people.
He said, moreover, that there was a fine religiosity about Moussorgski,
but that the most beautiful single piece of music in the world
was Beethoven's sonata, Opus 111,--he was thinking, he said, more
particularly of the Adagio at the end, molto semplice e cantabile. It
had a real quality of divinity.
The musician betrayed impatience at the name of Beethoven, and thought,
with his mouth appreciatively full of salted almonds, that nowadays we
had got a little beyond that anyhow.
"We shall be superhuman before we get beyond either Purcell or
Beethoven," said Scrope.
Nor did he attach sufficient importance to Lady Sunderbund's disposition
to invite Positivists, members of the Brotherhood Church, leaders among
the Christian Scientists, old followers of the Rev. Charles Voysey,
Swedenborgians, Moslem converts, Indian Theosophists, psychic phenomena
and so forth, to meet him. Nevertheless it began to drift into his mind
that he was by no means so completely in control of the new departure
as he had supposed at first. Both he and Lady Sunderbund professed
universalism; but while his was the universalism of one who would
simplify to the bare fundamentals of a common faith, hers was the
universalism of the collector. Religion to him was something that
illuminated the soul, to her it was something that illuminated
prayer-books. For a considerable time they followed their divergent
inclinations without any realization of their divergence. None the less
a vague doubt and dissatisfaction with the prospect before him arose to
cloud his confidence.
At first there was little or no doubt of his own faith. He was still
altogether convinced that he had to confess and proclaim God in his
life. He was as sure that God was the necessary king and saviour of
mankind and of a man's life, as he was of the truth of the Binomial
Theorem. But what began first to fade was the idea that he had been
specially called to proclaim the True God to all the world. He would
have the most amiable conference with Lady Sunderbund, and then as he
walked back to Notting Hill he would suddenly find stuck into his
mind like a challenge, Heaven knows how: "Another prophet?" Even if
he succeeded in this mission enterprise, he found himself asking, what
would he be but just a little West-end Mahomet? He would have founded
another sect, and we have to make an end to all sects. How is there to
be an end to sects, if there are still to be chapels--richly decorated
chapels--and congregations, and salaried specialists in God?
That was a very disconcerting idea. It was particularly active at night.
He did his best to consider it with a cool detachment, regardless of
the facts that his private income was just under three hundred pounds a
year, and that his experiments in cultured journalism made it extremely
improbable that the most sedulous literary work would do more than
double this scanty sum. Yet for all that these nasty, ugly, sordid facts
were entirely disregarded, they did somehow persist in coming in and
squatting down, shapeless in a black corner of his mind--from which
their eyes shone out, so to speak--whenever his doubt whether he ought
to set up as a prophet at all was under consideration.
(6)
Then very suddenly on this October afternoon the situation had come to a
crisis.
He had gone to Lady Sunderbund's flat to see the plans and drawings for
the new church in which he was to give his message to the world. They
had brought home to him the complete realization of Lady Sunderbund's
impossibility. He had attempted upon the spur of the moment an
explanation of just how much they differed, and he had precipitated a
storm of extravagantly perplexing emotions....
She kept him waiting for perhaps ten minutes before she brought the
plans to him. He waited in the little room with the Wyndham Lewis
picture that opened upon the balcony painted with crazy squares of livid
pink. On a golden table by the window a number of recently bought books
were lying, and he went and stood over these, taking them up one after
another. The first was "The Countess of Huntingdon and Her Circle,"
that bearder of lightminded archbishops, that formidable harbourer of
Wesleyan chaplains. For some minutes he studied the grim portrait of
this inspired lady standing with one foot ostentatiously on her coronet
and then turned to the next volume. This was a life of Saint Teresa,
that energetic organizer of Spanish nunneries. The third dealt with
Madame Guyon. It was difficult not to feel that Lady Sunderbund was
reading for a part.
She entered.
She was wearing a long simple dress of spangled white with a very high
waist; she had a bracelet of green jade, a waistband of green silk,
and her hair was held by a wreath of artificial laurel, very stiff and
green. Her arms were full of big rolls of cartridge paper and tracing
paper. "I'm so pleased," she said. "It's 'eady at last and I can show
you."
She banged the whole armful down upon a vivid little table of inlaid
black and white wood. He rescued one or two rolls and a sheet of tracing
paper from the floor.
"It's the Temple," she panted in a significant whisper. "It's the Temple
of the One T'ue God!"
She scrabbled among the papers, and held up the elevation of a strange
square building to his startled eyes. "Iszi't it just pe'fect?" she
demanded.
He took the drawing from her. It represented a building, manifestly an
enormous building, consisting largely of two great, deeply fluted towers
flanking a vast archway approached by a long flight of steps. Between
the towers appeared a dome. It was as if the Mosque of Saint Sophia had
produced this offspring in a mesalliance with the cathedral of
Wells. Its enormity was made manifest by the minuteness of the large
automobiles that were driving away in the foreground after "setting
down." "Here is the plan," she said, thrusting another sheet upon him
before he could fully take in the quality of the design. "The g'eat Hall
is to be pe'fectly 'ound, no aisle, no altar, and in lettas of sapphiah,
'God is ev'ywhe'.'"
She added with a note of solemnity, "It will hold th'ee thousand people
sitting down."
"But--!" said Scrope.
"The'e's a sort of g'andeur," she said. "It's young Venable's wo'k. It's
his fl'st g'ate oppo'tunity."
"But--is this to go on that little site in Aldwych?"
"He says the' isn't 'oom the'!" she explained. "He wants to put it out
at Golda's G'een."
"But--if it is to be this little simple chapel we proposed, then wasn't
our idea to be central?"
"But if the' isn't 'oem!" she said--conclusively. "And isn't this--isn't
it rather a costly undertaking, rather more costly--"
"That doesn't matta. I'm making heaps and heaps of money. Half my
p'ope'ty is in shipping and a lot of the 'eat in munitions. I'm 'icher
than eva. Isn't the' a sort of g'andeur?" she pressed.
He put the elevation down. He took the plan from her hands and seemed to
study it. But he was really staring blankly at the whole situation.
"Lady Sunderbund," he said at last, with an effort, "I am afraid all
this won't do."
"Won't do!"
"No. It isn't in the spirit of my intention. It isn't in a great
building of this sort--so--so ornate and imposing, that the simple
gospel of God's Universal Kingdom can be preached."
"But oughtn't so gate a message to have as g'ate a pulpit?"
And then as if she would seize him before he could go on to further
repudiations, she sought hastily among the drawings again.
"But look," she said. "It has ev'ything! It's not only a p'eaching
place; it's a headquarters for ev'ything."
With the rapid movements of an excited child she began to thrust the
remarkable features and merits of the great project upon him. The
preaching dome was only the heart of it. There were to be a library,
"'efecto'ies," consultation rooms, classrooms, a publication department,
a big underground printing establishment. "Nowadays," she said, "ev'y
gate movement must p'int." There was to be music, she said, "a gate
invisible o'gan," hidden amidst the architectural details, and pouring
out its sounds into the dome, and then she glanced in passing at
possible "p'ocessions" round the preaching dome. This preaching dome
was not a mere shut-in drum for spiritual reverberations, around it ran
great open corridors, and in these corridors there were to be "chapels."
"But what for?" he asked, stemming the torrent. "What need is there for
chapels? There are to be no altars, no masses, no sacraments?"
"No," she said, "but they are to be chapels for special int'ests; a
chapel for science, a chapel for healing, a chapel for gov'ment. Places
for peoples to sit and think about those things--with paintings and
symbols."
"I see your intention," he admitted. "I see your intention."
"The' is to be a gate da'k blue 'ound chapel for sta's and atoms and the
myst'ry of matta." Her voice grew solemn. "All still and deep and high.
Like a k'ystal in a da'k place. You will go down steps to it. Th'ough
a da'k 'ounded a'ch ma'ked with mathematical symbols and balances and
scientific app'atus.... And the ve'y next to it, the ve'y next, is to be
a little b'ight chapel for bi'ds and flowas!"
"Yes," he said, "it is all very fine and expressive. It is, I see, a
symbolical building, a great artistic possibility. But is it the place
for me? What I have to say is something very simple, that God is the
king of the whole world, king of the ha'penny newspaper and the omnibus
and the vulgar everyday things, and that they have to worship him and
serve him as their leader in every moment of their lives. This isn't
that. This is the old religions over again. This is taking God apart.
This is putting him into a fresh casket instead of the old one. And....
I don't like it."
"Don't like it," she cried, and stood apart from him with her chin in
the air, a tall astonishment and dismay.
"I can't do the work I want to do with this."
"But--Isn't it you' idea?"
"No. It is not in the least my idea. I want to tell the whole world
of the one God that can alone unite it and save it--and you make this
extravagant toy."
He felt as if he had struck her directly he uttered that last word.
"Toy!" she echoed, taking it in, "you call it a Toy!"
A note in her voice reminded him that there were two people who might
feel strongly in this affair.
"My dear Lady Sunderbund," he said with a sudden change of manner, "I
must needs follow the light of my own mind. I have had a vision of God,
I have seen him as a great leader towering over the little lives of men,
demanding the little lives of men, prepared to take them and guide them
to the salvation of mankind and the conquest of pain and death. I have
seen him as the God of the human affair, a God of politics, a God of
such muddy and bloody wars as this war, a God of economics, a God of
railway junctions and clinics and factories and evening schools, a God
in fact of men. This God--this God here, that you want to worship, is a
God of artists and poets--of elegant poets, a God of bric-a-brac, a God
of choice allusions. Oh, it has its grandeur! I don't want you to think
that what you are doing may not be altogether fine and right for you to
do. But it is not what I have to do.... I cannot--indeed I cannot--go on
with this project--upon these lines."
He paused, flushed and breathless. Lady Sunderbund had heard him to the
end. Her bright face was brightly flushed, and there were tears in her
eyes. It was like her that they should seem tears of the largest, most
expensive sort, tears of the first water.
"But," she cried, and her red delicate mouth went awry with dismay and
disappointment, and her expression was the half incredulous expression
of a child suddenly and cruelly disappointed: "You won't go on with all
this?"
"No," he said. "My dear Lady Sunderbund--"
"Oh! don't Lady Sunderbund me!" she cried with a novel rudeness. "Don't
you see I've done it all for you?"
He winced and felt boorish. He had never liked and disapproved of Lady
Sunderbund so much as he did at that moment. And he had no words for
her.
"How can I stop it all at once like this?"
And still he had no answer.
She pursued her advantage. "What am I to do?" she cried.
She turned upon him passionately. "Look what you've done!" She marked
her points with finger upheld, and gave odd suggestions in her face of
an angry coster girl. "Eva' since I met you, I've wo'shipped you. I've
been 'eady to follow you anywhe'--to do anything. Eva' since that night
when you sat so calm and dignified, and they baited you and wo'id you.
When they we' all vain and cleva, and you--you thought only of God
and 'iligion and didn't mind fo' you'self.... Up to then--I'd been
living--oh! the emptiest life..."
The tears ran. "Pe'haps I shall live it again...." She dashed her grief
away with a hand beringed with stones as big as beetles.
"I said to myself, this man knows something I don't know. He's got the
seeds of ete'nal life su'ely. I made up my mind then and the' I'd follow
you and back you and do all I could fo' you. I've lived fo' you. Eve'
since. Lived fo' you. And now when all my little plans are 'ipe, you--!
Oh!"
She made a quaint little gesture with pink fists upraised, and then
stood with her hand held up, staring at the plans and drawings that were
littered over the inlaid table. "I've planned and planned. I said, I
will build him a temple. I will be his temple se'vant.... Just a me'
se'vant...."
She could not go on.
"But it is just these temples that have confused mankind," he said.
"Not my temple," she said presently, now openly weeping over the gay
rejected drawings. "You could have explained...."
"Oh!" she said petulantly, and thrust them away from her so that they
went sliding one after the other on to the floor. For some long-drawn
moments there was no sound in the room but the slowly accelerated slide
and flop of one sheet of cartridge paper after another.
"We could have been so happy," she wailed, "se'ving oua God."
And then this disconcerting lady did a still more disconcerting thing.
She staggered a step towards Scrape, seized the lapels of his coat,
bowed her head upon his shoulder, put her black hair against his cheek,
and began sobbing and weeping.
"My dear lady!" he expostulated, trying weakly to disengage her.
"Let me k'y," she insisted, gripping more resolutely, and following his
backward pace. "You must let me k'y. You must let me k'y."
His resistance ceased. One hand supported her, the other patted her
shining hair. "My dear child!" he said. "My dear child! I had no idea.
That you would take it like this...."
(7)
That was but the opening of an enormous interview. Presently he had
contrived in a helpful and sympathetic manner to seat the unhappy lady
on a sofa, and when after some cramped discourse she stood up before
him, wiping her eyes with a wet wonder of lace, to deliver herself the
better, a newborn appreciation of the tactics of the situation made
him walk to the other side of the table under colour of picking up a
drawing.
In the retrospect he tried to disentangle the threads of a discussion
that went to and fro and contradicted itself and began again far
back among things that had seemed forgotten and disposed of. Lady
Sunderbund's mind was extravagantly untrained, a wild-grown mental
thicket. At times she reproached him as if he were a heartless God; at
times she talked as if he were a recalcitrant servant. Her mingling of
utter devotion and the completest disregard for his thoughts and wishes
dazzled and distressed his mind. It was clear that for half a year her
clear, bold, absurd will had been crystallized upon the idea of giving
him exactly what she wanted him to want. The crystal sphere of those
ambitions lay now shattered between them.
She was trying to reconstruct it before his eyes.
She was, she declared, prepared to alter her plans in any way that would
meet his wishes. She had not understood. "If it is a Toy," she cried,
"show me how to make it not a Toy! Make it 'eal!"
He said it was the bare idea of a temple that made it impossible. And
there was this drawing here; what did it mean? He held it out to her. It
represented a figure, distressingly like himself, robed as a priest in
vestments.
She snatched the offending drawing from him and tore it to shreds.
"If you don't want a Temple, have a meeting-house. You wanted a
meeting-house anyhow."
"Just any old meeting-house," he said. "Not that special one. A place
without choirs and clergy."
"If you won't have music," she responded, "don't have music. If God
doesn't want music it can go. I can't think God does not app'ove of
music, but--that is for you to settle. If you don't like the' being
o'naments, we'll make it all plain. Some g'ate g'ey Dome--all g'ey and
black. If it isn't to be beautiful, it can be ugly. Yes, ugly. It can
be as ugly"--she sobbed--"as the City Temple. We will get some otha
a'chitect--some City a'chitect. Some man who has built B'anch Banks or
'ailway stations. That's if you think it pleases God.... B'eak young
Venable's hea't.... Only why should you not let me make a place fo' you'
message? Why shouldn't it be me? You must have a place. You've got 'to
p'each somewhe'."
"As a man, not as a priest."
"Then p'each as a man. You must still wea' something."
"Just ordinary clothes."
"O'dina'y clothes a' clothes in the fashion," she said. "You would
have to go to you' taila for a new p'eaching coat with b'aid put on
dif'ently, or two buttons instead of th'ee...."
"One needn't be fashionable."
"Ev'ybody is fash'nable. How can you help it? Some people wea' old
fashions; that's all.... A cassock's an old fashion. There's nothing so
plain as a cassock."
"Except that it's a clerical fashion. I want to be just as I am now."
"If you think that--that owoble suit is o'dina'y clothes!" she said, and
stared at him and gave way to tears of real tenderness.
"A cassock," she cried with passion. "Just a pe'fectly plain cassock.
Fo' deecency!... Oh, if you won't--not even that!"
(8)
As he walked now after his unsuccessful quest of Dr. Brighton-Pomfrey
towards the Serpentine he acted that stormy interview with Lady
Sunderbund over again. At the end, as a condition indeed of his
departure, he had left things open. He had assented to certain promises.
He was to make her understand better what it was he needed. He was not
to let anything that had happened affect that "spi'tual f'enship."
She was to abandon all her plans, she was to begin again "at the ve'y
beginning." But he knew that indeed there should be no more beginning
again with her. He knew that quite beyond these questions of the
organization of a purified religion, it was time their association
ended. She had wept upon him; she had clasped both his hands at parting
and prayed to be forgiven. She was drawing him closer to her by their
very dissension. She had infected him with the softness of remorse; from
being a bright and spirited person, she had converted herself into a
warm and touching person. Her fine, bright black hair against his cheek
and the clasp of her hand on his shoulder was now inextricably in the
business. The perplexing, the astonishing thing in his situation was
that there was still a reluctance to make a conclusive breach.
He was not the first of men who have tried to find in vain how and when
a relationship becomes an entanglement. He ought to break off now, and
the riddle was just why he should feel this compunction in breaking off
now. He had disappointed her, and he ought not to have disappointed
her; that was the essential feeling. He had never realized before as
he realized now this peculiar quality of his own mind and the gulf into
which it was leading him. It came as an illuminating discovery.
He was a social animal. He had an instinctive disposition to act
according to the expectations of the people about him, whether they were
reasonable or congenial expectations or whether they were not. That, he
saw for the first time, had been the ruling motive of his life; it was
the clue to him. Man is not a reasonable creature; he is a socially
responsive creature trying to be reasonable in spite of that fact. From
the days in the rectory nursery when Scrope had tried to be a good boy
on the whole and just a little naughty sometimes until they stopped
smiling, through all his life of school, university, curacy, vicarage
and episcopacy up to this present moment, he perceived now that he had
acted upon no authentic and independent impulse. His impulse had always
been to fall in with people and satisfy them. And all the painful
conflicts of those last few years had been due to a growing realization
of jarring criticisms, of antagonized forces that required from him
incompatible things. From which he had now taken refuge--or at any rate
sought refuge--in God. It was paradoxical, but manifestly in God he not
only sank his individuality but discovered it.
It was wonderful how much he had thought and still thought of the
feelings and desires of Lady Sunderbund, and how little he thought of
God. Her he had been assiduously propitiating, managing, accepting, for
three months now. Why? Partly because she demanded it, and there was
a quality in her demand that had touched some hidden spring--of vanity
perhaps it was--in him, that made him respond. But partly also it was
because after the evacuation of the palace at Princhester he had felt
more and more, felt but never dared to look squarely in the face, the
catastrophic change in the worldly circumstances of his family.
Only this chapel adventure seemed likely to restore those fallen and
bedraggled fortunes. He had not anticipated a tithe of the dire quality
of that change. They were not simply uncomfortable in the Notting Hill
home. They were miserable. He fancied they looked to him with something
between reproach and urgency. Why had he brought them here? What next
did he propose to do? He wished at times they would say it out instead
of merely looking it. Phoebe's failing appetite chilled his heart.
That concern for his family, he believed, had been his chief motive in
clinging to Lady Sunderbund's projects long after he had realized how
little they would forward the true service of God. No doubt there had
been moments of flattery, moments of something, something rather in the
nature of an excited affection; some touch of the magnificent in
her, some touch of the infantile,--both appealed magnetically to his
imagination; but the real effective cause was his habitual solicitude
for his wife and children and his consequent desire to prosper
materially. As his first dream of being something between Mohammed and
Peter the Hermit in a new proclamation of God to the world lost colour
and life in his mind, he realized more and more clearly that there was
no way of living in a state of material prosperity and at the same time
in a state of active service to God. The Church of the One True God (by
favour of Lady Sunderbund) was a gaily-coloured lure.
And yet he wanted to go on with it. All his imagination and intelligence
was busy now with the possibility of in some way subjugating Lady
Sunderbund, and modifying her and qualifying her to an endurable
proposition. Why?
Why?
There could be but one answer, he thought. Brought to the test of
action, he did not really believe in God! He did not believe in God as
he believed in his family. He did not believe in the reality of either
his first or his second vision; they had been dreams, autogenous
revelations, exaltations of his own imaginations. These beliefs were
upon different grades of reality. Put to the test, his faith in God gave
way; a sword of plaster against a reality of steel.
And yet he did believe in God. He was as persuaded that there was a
God as he was that there was another side to the moon. His
intellectual conviction was complete. Only, beside the living,
breathing--occasionally coughing--reality of Phoebe, God was something
as unsubstantial as the Binomial Theorem....
Very like the Binomial Theorem as one thought over that comparison.
By this time he had reached the banks of the Serpentine and was
approaching the grey stone bridge that crosses just where Hyde Park
ends and Kensington Gardens begins. Following upon his doubts of his
religious faith had come another still more extraordinary question:
"Although there is a God, does he indeed matter more in our ordinary
lives than that same demonstrable Binomial Theorem? Isn't one's duty to
Phoebe plain and clear?" Old Likeman's argument came back to him with
novel and enhanced powers. Wasn't he after all selfishly putting his
own salvation in front of his plain duty to those about him? What did
it matter if he told lies, taught a false faith, perjured and damned
himself, if after all those others were thereby saved and comforted?
"But that is just where the whole of this state of mind is false
and wrong," he told himself. "God is something more than a priggish
devotion, an intellectual formula. He has a hold and a claim--he should
have a hold and a claim--exceeding all the claims of Phoebe, Miriam,
Daphne, Clementina--all of them.... But he hasn't'!..."
It was to that he had got after he had left Lady Sunderbund, and to that
he now returned. It was the thinness and unreality of his thought of God
that had driven him post-haste to Brighton-Pomfrey in search for that
drug that had touched his soul to belief.
Was God so insignificant in comparison with his family that after
all with a good conscience he might preach him every Sunday in Lady
Sunderbund's church, wearing Lady Sunderbund's vestments?
Before him he saw an empty seat. The question was so immense and
conclusive, it was so clearly a choice for all the rest of his life
between God and the dear things of this world, that he felt he could not
decide it upon his legs. He sat down, threw an arm along the back of the
seat and drummed with his fingers.
If the answer was "yes" then it was decidedly a pity that he had not
stayed in the church. It was ridiculous to strain at the cathedral gnat
and then swallow Lady Sunderbund's decorative Pantechnicon.
For the first time, Scrope definitely regretted his apostasy.
A trivial matter, as it may seem to the reader, intensified that regret.
Three weeks ago Borrowdale, the bishop of Howeaster, had died, and
Scrope would have been the next in rotation to succeed him on the
bench of bishops. He had always looked forward to the House of Lords,
intending to take rather a new line, to speak more, and to speak more
plainly and fully upon social questions than had hitherto been the
practice of his brethren. Well, that had gone....
(9)
Regrets were plain now. The question before his mind was growing clear;
whether he was to persist in this self-imposed martyrdom of himself and
his family or whether he was to go back upon his outbreak of visionary
fanaticism and close with this last opportunity that Lady Sunderbund
offered of saving at least the substance of the comfort and social
status of his wife and daughters. In which case it was clear to him
he would have to go to great lengths and exercise very considerable
subtlety--and magnetism--in the management of Lady Sunderbund....
He found himself composing a peculiar speech to her, very frank and
revealing, and one that he felt would dominate her thoughts.... She
attracted him oddly.... At least this afternoon she had attracted
him....
And repelled him....
A wholesome gust of moral impatience stirred him. He smacked the back of
the seat hard, as though he smacked himself.
No. He did not like it....
A torn sunset of purple and crimson streamed raggedly up above and
through the half stripped trecs of Kensington Gardens, and he found
himself wishing that Heaven would give us fewer sublimities in sky and
mountain and more in our hearts. Against the background of darkling
trees and stormily flaming sky a girl was approaching him. There was
little to be seen of her but her outline. Something in her movement
caught his eye and carried his memory back to a sundown at Hunstanton.
Then as she came nearer he saw that it was Eleanor.
It was odd to see her here. He had thought she was at Newnham.
But anyhow it was very pleasant to see her. And there was something in
Eleanor that promised an answer to his necessity. The girl had a kind
of instinctive wisdom. She would understand the quality of his situation
better perhaps than any one. He would put the essentials of that
situation as fully and plainly as he could to her. Perhaps she, with
that clear young idealism of hers, would give him just the lift and the
light of which he stood in need. She would comprehend both sides of it,
the points about Phoebe as well as the points about God.
When first he saw her she seemed to be hurrying, but now she had fallen
to a loitering pace. She looked once or twice behind her and then ahead,
almost as though she expected some one and was not sure whether this
person would approach from east or west. She did not observe her father
until she was close upon him.
Then she was so astonished that for a moment she stood motionless,
regarding him. She made an odd movement, almost as if she would have
walked on, that she checked in its inception. Then she came up to him
and stood before him. "It's Dad," she said.
"I didn't know you were in London, Norah," he began.
"I came up suddenly."
"Have you been home?"
"No. I wasn't going home. At least--not until afterwards."
Then she looked away from him, east and then west, and then met his eye
again.
"Won't you sit down, Norah?"
"I don't know whether I can."
She consulted the view again and seemed to come to a decision. "At
least, I will for a minute."
She sat down. For a moment neither of them spoke....
"What are you doing here, little Norah?"
She gathered her wits. Then she spoke rather volubly. "I know it looks
bad, Daddy. I came up to meet a boy I know, who is going to France
to-morrow. I had to make excuses--up there. I hardly remember what
excuses I made."
"A boy you know?"
"Yes."
"Do we know him?"
"Not yet."
For a time Scrope forgot the Church of the One True God altogether. "Who
is this boy?" he asked.
With a perceptible effort Eleanor assumed a tone of commonsense
conventionality. "He's a boy I met first when we were skating last year.
His sister has the study next to mine."
Father looked at daughter, and she met his eyes. "Well?"
"It's all happened so quickly, Daddy," she said, answering all that was
implicit in that "Well?" She went on, "I would have told you about him
if he had seemed to matter. But it was just a friendship. It didn't
seem to matter in any serious way. Of course we'd been good friends--and
talked about all sorts of things. And then suddenly you see,"--her tone
was offhand and matter-of-fact--"he has to go to France."
She stared at her father with the expression of a hostess who talks
about the weather. And then the tears gathered and ran down her cheek.
She turned her face to the Serpentine and clenched her fist.
But she was now fairly weeping. "I didn't know he cared. I didn't know I
cared."
His next question took a little time in coming.
"And it's love, little Norah?" he asked.
She was comfortably crying now, the defensive altogether abandoned.
"It's love, Daddy.... Oh! love!.... He's going tomorrow." For a minute
or so neither spoke. Scrope's mind was entirely made up in the matter.
He approved altogether of his daughter. But the traditions of parentage,
his habit of restrained decision, made him act a judicial part. "I'd
like just to see this boy," he said, and added: "If it isn't rather
interfering...."
"Dear Daddy!" she said. "Dear Daddy!" and touched his hand. "He'll be
coming here...."
"If you could tell me a few things about him," said Scrope. "Is he an
undergraduate?"
"You see," began Eleanor and paused to marshal her facts. "He graduated
this year. Then he's been in training at Cambridge. Properly he'd have
a fellowship. He took the Natural Science tripos, zoology chiefly.
He's good at philosophy, but of course our Cambridge philosophy is so
silly--McTaggart blowing bubbles.... His father's a doctor, Sir Hedley
Riverton."
As she spoke her eyes had been roving up the path and down. "He's
coming," she interrupted. She hesitated. "Would you mind if I went and
spoke to him first, Daddy?"
"Of course go to him. Go and warn him I'm here," said Scrope.
Eleanor got up, and was immediately greeted with joyful gestures by an
approaching figure in khaki. The two young people quickened their paces
as they drew nearer one another. There was a rapid greeting; they stood
close together and spoke eagerly. Scrope could tell by their movements
when he became the subject of their talk. He saw the young man start
and look over Eleanor's shoulder, and he assumed an attitude of
philosophical contemplation of the water, so as to give the young man
the liberty of his profile.
He did not look up until they were quite close to him, and when he did
he saw a pleasant, slightly freckled fair face a little agitated, and
very honest blue eyes. "I hope you don't think, Sir, that it's bad form
of me to ask Eleanor to come up and see me as I've done. I telegraphed
to her on an impulse, and it's been very kind of her to come up to me."
"Sit down," said Scrope, "sit down. You're Mr. Riverton?"
"Yes, Sir," said the young man. He had the frequent "Sir" of the
subaltern. Scrope was in the centre of the seat, and the young officer
sat down on one side of him while Eleanor took up a watching position on
her father's other hand. "You see, Sir, we've hardly known each other--I
mean we've been associated over a philosophical society and all that
sort of thing, but in a more familiar way, I mean...."
He hung for a moment, just a little short of breath. Scrope helped
him with a grave but sympathetic movement of the head. "It's a little
difficult to explain," the young man apologized.
"We hadn't understood, I think, either of us very much. We'd just
been friendly--and liked each other. And so it went on even when I was
training. And then when I found I had to go out--I'm going out a little
earlier than I expected--I thought suddenly I wouldn't ever go to
Cambridge again at all perhaps--and there was something in one of her
letters.... I thought of it a lot, Sir, I thought it all over, and I
thought it wasn't right for me to do anything and I didn't do anything
until this morning. And then I sort of had to telegraph. I know it was
frightful cheek and bad form and all that, Sir. It is. It would be
worse if she wasn't different--I mean, Sir, if she was just an ordinary
girl.... But I had a sort of feeling--just wanting to see her. I don't
suppose you've ever felt anything, Sir, as I felt I wanted to see
her--and just hear her speak to me...."
He glanced across Scrope at Eleanor. It was as if he justified himself
to them both.
Scrope glanced furtively at his daughter who was leaning forward with
tender eyes on her lover, and his heart went out to her. But his manner
remained judicial.
"All this is very sudden," he said.
"Or you would have heard all about it, Sir," said young Riverton.
"It's just the hurry that has made this seem furtive. All that there is
between us, Sir, is just the two telegrams we've sent, hers and mine.
I hope you won't mind our having a little time together. We won't do
anything very committal. It's as much friendship as anything. I go by
the evening train to-morrow."
"Mm," said Serope with his eye on Eleanor.
"In these uncertain times," he began.
"Why shouldn't I take a risk too, Daddy?" said Eleanor sharply.
"I know there's that side of it," said the young man. "I oughtn't to
have telegraphed," he said.
"Can't I take a risk?" exclaimed Eleanor. "I'm not a doll. I don't want
to live in wadding until all the world is safe for me."
Scrope looked at the glowing face of the young man.
"Is this taking care of her?" he asked.
"If you hadn't telegraphed--!" she cried with a threat in her voice, and
left it at that.
"Perhaps I feel about her--rather as if she was as strong as I am--in
those ways. Perhaps I shouldn't. I could hardly endure myself, Sir--cut
off from her. And a sort of blank. Nothing said."
"You want to work out your own salvation," said Scrope to his daughter.
"No one else can," she answered. "I'm--I'm grown up."
"Even if it hurts?"
"To live is to be hurt somehow," she said. "This--This--" She flashed
her love. She intimated by a gesture that it is better to be stabbed
with a clean knife than to be suffocated or poisoned or to decay....
Scrope turned his eyes to the young man again. He liked him. He liked
the modelling of his mouth and chin and the line of his brows. He liked
him altogether. He pronounced his verdict slowly. "I suppose, after
all," he said, "that this is better than the tender solicitude of a
safe and prosperous middleaged man. Eleanor, my dear, I've been thinking
to-day that a father who stands between his children and hardship, by
doing wrong, may really be doing them a wrong. You are a dear girl to
me. I won't stand between you two. Find your own salvation." He got up.
"I go west," he said, "presently. You, I think, go east."
"I can assure you, Sir," the young man began.
Scrope held his hand out. "Take your life in your own way," he said.
He turned to Eleanor. "Talk as you will," he said.
She clasped his hand with emotion. Then she turned to the waiting young
man, who saluted.
"You'll come back to supper?" Scrope said, without thinking out the
implications of that invitation.
She assented as carelessly. The fact that she and her lover were to
go, with their meeting legalized and blessed, excluded all other
considerations. The two young people turned to each other.
Scrope stood for a moment or so and then sat down again.
For a time he could think only of Eleanor.... He watched the two young
people as they went eastward. As they walked their shoulders and elbows
bumped amicably together.
(10)
Presently he sought to resume the interrupted thread of his thoughts.
He knew that he had been dealing with some very tremendous and urgent
problem when Eleanor had appeared. Then he remembered that Eleanor at
the time of her approach had seemed to be a solution rather than an
interruption. Well, she had her own life. She was making her own life.
Instead of solving his problems she was solving her own. God bless those
dear grave children! They were nearer the elemental things than he was.
That eastward path led to Victoria--and thence to a very probable death.
The lad was in the infantry and going straight into the trenches.
Love, death, God; this war was bringing the whole world back to
elemental things, to heroic things. The years of comedy and comfort were
at an end in Europe; the age of steel and want was here. And he had been
thinking--What had he been thinking?
He mused, and the scheme of his perplexities reshaped itself in his
mind. But at that time he did not realize that a powerful new light
was falling upon it now, cast by the tragic illumination of these young
lovers whose love began with a parting. He did not see how reality had
come to all things through that one intense reality. He reverted to
the question as he had put it to himself, before first he recognized
Eleanor. Did he believe in God? Should he go on with this Sunderbund
adventure in which he no longer believed? Should he play for safety and
comfort, trusting to God's toleration? Or go back to his family and warn
them of the years of struggle and poverty his renunciation cast upon
them?
Somehow Lady Sunderbund's chapel was very remote and flimsy now, and the
hardships of poverty seemed less black than the hardship of a youthful
death.
Did he believe in God? Again he put that fundamental question to
himself.
He sat very still in the sunset peace, with his eyes upon the steel
mirror of the waters. The question seemed to fill the whole scene, to
wait, even as the water and sky and the windless trees were waiting....
And then by imperceptible degrees there grew in Scrope's mind the
persuasion that he was in the presence of the living God. This time
there was no vision of angels nor stars, no snapping of bow-strings, no
throbbing of the heart nor change of scene, no magic and melodramatic
drawing back of the curtain from the mysteries; the water and the
bridge, the ragged black trees, and a distant boat that broke the
silvery calm with an arrow of black ripples, all these things were still
before him. But God was there too. God was everywhere about him. This
persuasion was over him and about him; a dome of protection, a power in
his nerves, a peace in his heart. It was an exalting beauty; it was a
perfected conviction.... This indeed was the coming of God, the real
coming of God. For the first time Scrope was absolutely sure that
for the rest of his life he would possess God. Everything that had so
perplexed him seemed to be clear now, and his troubles lay at the foot
of this last complete realization like a litter of dust and leaves in
the foreground of a sunlit, snowy mountain range.
It was a little incredible that he could ever have doubted.
(11)
It was a phase of extreme intellectual clairvoyance. A multitude of
things that hitherto had been higgledy-piggledy, contradictory and
incongruous in his mind became lucid, serene, full and assured. He
seemed to see all things plainly as one sees things plainly through
perfectly clear still water in the shadows of a summer noon. His doubts
about God, his periods of complete forgetfulness and disregard of God,
this conflict of his instincts and the habits and affections of
his daily life with the service of God, ceased to be perplexing
incompatibilities and were manifest as necessary, understandable aspects
of the business of living.
It was no longer a riddle that little immediate things should seem
of more importance than great and final things. For man is a creature
thrusting his way up from the beast to divinity, from the blindness of
individuality to the knowledge of a common end. We stand deep in
the engagements of our individual lives looking up to God, and only
realizing in our moments of exaltation that through God we can escape
from and rule and alter the whole world-wide scheme of individual lives.
Only in phases of illumination do we realize the creative powers that
lie ready to man's hand. Personal affections, immediate obligations,
ambitions, self-seeking, these are among the natural and essential
things of our individual lives, as intimate almost as our primordial
lusts and needs; God, the true God, is a later revelation, a newer, less
natural thing in us; a knowledge still remote, uncertain, and confused
with superstition; an apprehension as yet entangled with barbaric
traditions of fear and with ceremonial surgeries, blood sacrifices, and
the maddest barbarities of thought. We are only beginning to realize
that God is here; so far as our minds go he is still not here
continually; we perceive him and then again we are blind to him. God
is the last thing added to the completeness of human life. To most His
presence is imperceptible throughout their lives; they know as little
of him as a savage knows of the electric waves that beat through us
for ever from the sun. All this appeared now so clear and necessary
to Scrope that he was astonished he had ever found the quality of
contradiction in these manifest facts.
In this unprecedented lucidity that had now come to him, Scrope saw as
a clear and simple necessity that there can be no such thing as a
continuous living presence of God in our lives. That is an unreasonable
desire. There is no permanent exaltation of belief. It is contrary to
the nature of life. One cannot keep actively believing in and realizing
God round all the twenty-four hours any more than one can keep awake
through the whole cycle of night and day, day after day. If it were
possible so to apprehend God without cessation, life would dissolve in
religious ecstasy. But nothing human has ever had the power to hold the
curtain of sense continually aside and retain the light of God always.
We must get along by remembering our moments of assurance. Even Jesus
himself, leader of all those who have hailed the coming kingdom of God,
had cried upon the cross, "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?"
The business of life on earth, life itself, is a thing curtained off, as
it were, from such immediate convictions. That is in the constitution of
life. Our ordinary state of belief, even when we are free from doubt,
is necessarily far removed from the intuitive certainty of sight and
hearing. It is a persuasion, it falls far short of perception....
"We don't know directly," Scrope said to himself with a checking gesture
of the hand, "we don't see. We can't. We hold on to the remembered
glimpse, we go over our reasons."...
And it was clear too just because God is thus manifest like the
momentary drawing of a curtain, sometimes to this man for a time and
sometimes to that, but never continuously to any, and because the
perception of him depends upon the ability and quality of the perceiver,
because to the intellectual man God is necessarily a formula, to the
active man a will and a commandment, and to the emotional man love,
there can be no creed defining him for all men, and no ritual and
special forms of service to justify a priesthood. "God is God," he
whispered to himself, and the phrase seemed to him the discovery of
a sufficient creed. God is his own definition; there is no other
definition of God. Scrope had troubled himself with endless arguments
whether God was a person, whether he was concerned with personal
troubles, whether he loved, whether he was finite. It were as reasonable
to argue whether God was a frog or a rock or a tree. He had imagined God
as a figure of youth and courage, had perceived him as an effulgence
of leadership, a captain like the sun. The vision of his drug-quickened
mind had but symbolized what was otherwise inexpressible. Of that he was
now sure. He had not seen the invisible but only its sign and visible
likeness. He knew now that all such presentations were true and that all
such presentations were false. Just as much and just as little was God
the darkness and the brightness of the ripples under the bows of the
distant boat, the black beauty of the leaves and twigs of those trees
now acid-clear against the flushed and deepening sky. These riddles of
the profundities were beyond the compass of common living. They were
beyond the needs of common living. He was but a little earth parasite,
sitting idle in the darkling day, trying to understand his infinitesimal
functions on a minor planet. Within the compass of terrestrial living
God showed himself in its own terms. The life of man on earth was a
struggle for unity of spirit and for unity with his kind, and the aspect
of God that alone mattered to man was a unifying kingship without and
within. So long as men were men, so would they see God. Only when they
reached the crest could they begin to look beyond. So we knew God, so
God was to us; since we struggled, he led our struggle, since we were
finite and mortal he defined an aim, his personality was the answer to
our personality; but God, except in so far as he was to us, remained
inaccessible, inexplicable, wonderful, shining through beauty, shining
beyond research, greater than time or space, above good and evil and
pain and pleasure.
(12)
Serope's mind was saturated as it had never been before by his sense of
the immediate presence of God. He floated in that realization. He
was not so much thinking now as conversing starkly with the divine
interlocutor, who penetrated all things and saw into and illuminated
every recess of his mind. He spread out his ideas to the test of this
presence; he brought out his hazards and interpretations that this light
might judge them.
There came back to his mind the substance of his two former visions;
they assumed now a reciprocal quality, they explained one another and
the riddle before him. The first had shown him the personal human aspect
of God, he had seen God as the unifying captain calling for his personal
service, the second had set the stage for that service in the spectacle
of mankind's adventure. He had been shown a great multitude of human
spirits reaching up at countless points towards the conception of the
racial unity under a divine leadership, he had seen mankind on the
verge of awakening to the kingdom of God. "That solves no mystery,"
he whispered, gripping the seat and frowning at the water; "mysteries
remain mysteries; but that is the reality of religion. And now, now,
what is my place? What have I to do? That is the question I have been
asking always; the question that this moment now will answer; what have
I to do?..."
God was coming into the life of all mankind in the likeness of a captain
and a king; all the governments of men, all the leagues of men, their
debts and claims and possessions, must give way to the world republic
under God the king. For five troubled years he had been staring religion
in the face, and now he saw that it must mean this--or be no more than
fetishism, Obi, Orphic mysteries or ceremonies of Demeter, a legacy
of mental dirtiness, a residue of self-mutilation and superstitious
sacrifices from the cunning, fear-haunted, ape-dog phase of human
development. But it did mean this. And every one who apprehended as much
was called by that very apprehension to the service of God's kingdom.
To live and serve God's kingdom on earth, to help to bring it about, to
propagate the idea of it, to establish the method of it, to incorporate
all that one made and all that one did into its growing reality, was the
only possible life that could be lived, once that God was known.
He sat with his hands gripping his knees, as if he were holding on to
his idea. "And now for my part," he whispered, brows knit, "now for my
part."
Ever since he had given his confirmation addresses he had been clear
that his task, or at least a considerable portion of his task, was
to tell of this faith in God and of this conception of service in his
kingdom as the form and rule of human life and human society. But up to
now he had been floundering hopelessly in his search for a method and
means of telling. That, he saw, still needed to be thought out. For
example, one cannot run through the world crying, "The Kingdom of God
is at hand." Men's minds were still so filled with old theological ideas
that for the most part they would understand by that only a fantasy of
some great coming of angels and fiery chariots and judgments, and hardly
a soul but would doubt one's sanity and turn scornfully away. But one
must proclaim God not to confuse but to convince men's minds. It was
that and the habit of his priestly calling that had disposed him towards
a pulpit. There he could reason and explain. The decorative genius
of Lady Sunderbund had turned that intention into a vast iridescent
absurdity.
This sense he had of thinking openly in the sight of God, enabled him to
see the adventure of Lady Sunderbund without illusion and without shame.
He saw himself at once honest and disingenuous, divided between two
aims. He had no doubt now of the path he had to pursue. A stronger man
of permanently clear aims might possibly turn Lady Sunderbund into a
useful opportunity, oblige her to provide the rostrum he needed; but for
himself, he knew he had neither the needed strength nor clearness;
she would smother him in decoration, overcome him by her picturesque
persistence. It might be ridiculous to run away from her, but it was
necessary. And he was equally clear now that for him there must be
no idea of any pulpit, of any sustained mission. He was a man of
intellectual moods; only at times, he realized, had he the inspiration
of truth; upon such uncertain snatches and glimpses he must live; to
make his life a ministry would be to face phases when he would simply be
"carrying on," with his mind blank and his faith asleep.
His thought spread out from this perennial decision to more general
things again. Had God any need of organized priests at all? Wasn't that
just what had been the matter with religion for the last three thousand
years?
His vision and his sense of access to God had given a new courage to
his mind; in these moods of enlightenment he could see the world as a
comprehensible ball, he could see history as an understandable drama. He
had always been on the verge of realizing before, he realized now, the
two entirely different and antagonistic strands that interweave in the
twisted rope of contemporary religion; the old strand of the priest,
the fetishistic element of the blood sacrifice and the obscene rite, the
element of ritual and tradition, of the cult, the caste, the consecrated
tribe; and interwoven with this so closely as to be scarcely separable
in any existing religion was the new strand, the religion of the
prophets, the unidolatrous universal worship of the one true God. Priest
religion is the antithesis to prophet religion. He saw that the
founders of all the great existing religions of the world had been like
himself--only that he was a weak and commonplace man with no creative
force, and they had been great men of enormous initiative--men reaching
out, and never with a complete definition, from the old kind of religion
to the new. The Hebrew prophets, Jesus, whom the priests killed when
Pilate would have spared him, Mohammed, Buddha, had this much in common
that they had sought to lead men from temple worship, idol worship, from
rites and ceremonies and the rule of priests, from anniversaryism and
sacramentalism, into a direct and simple relation to the simplicity of
God. Religious progress had always been liberation and simplification.
But none of these efforts had got altogether clear. The organizing
temper in men, the disposition to dogmatic theorizing, the distrust
of the discretion of the young by the wisdom of age, the fear of
indiscipline which is so just in warfare and so foolish in education,
the tremendous power of the propitiatory tradition, had always caught
and crippled every new gospel before it had run a score of years. Jesus
for example gave man neither a theology nor a church organization; His
sacrament was an innocent feast of memorial; but the fearful, limited,
imitative men he left to carry on his work speedily restored all these
three abominations of the antiquated religion, theology, priest, and
sacrifice. Jesus indeed, caught into identification with the ancient
victim of the harvest sacrifice and turned from a plain teacher into
a horrible blood bath and a mock cannibal meal, was surely the supreme
feat of the ironies of chance....
"It is curious how I drift back to Jesus," said Scrope. "I have never
seen how much truth and good there was in his teaching until I broke
away from Christianity and began to see him plain. If I go on as I am
going, I shall end a Nazarene...."
He thought on. He had a feeling of temerity, but then it seemed as if
God within him bade him be of good courage.
Already in a glow of inspiration he had said practically as much as
he was now thinking in his confirmation address, but now he realized
completely what it was he had then said. There could be no priests,
no specialized ministers of the one true God, because every man to
the utmost measure of his capacity was bound to be God's priest and
minister. Many things one may leave to specialists: surgery, detailed
administration, chemistry, for example; but it is for every man to think
his own philosophy and think out his own religion. One man may tell
another, but no man may take charge of another. A man may avail himself
of electrician or gardener or what not, but he must stand directly
before God; he may suffer neither priest nor king. These other things
are incidental, but God, the kingdom of God, is what he is for.
"Good," he said, checking his reasoning. "So I must bear witness to
God--but neither as priest nor pastor. I must write and talk about him
as I can. No reason why I should not live by such writing and talking if
it does not hamper my message to do so. But there must be no high place,
no ordered congregation. I begin to see my way...."
The evening was growing dark and chill about him now, the sky was barred
with deep bluish purple bands drawn across a chilly brightness that
had already forgotten the sun, the trees were black and dim, but his
understanding of his place and duty was growing very definite.
"And this duty to bear witness to God's kingdom and serve it is so plain
that I must not deflect my witness even by a little, though to do
so means comfort and security for my wife and children. God comes
first...."
"They must not come between God and me...."
"But there is more in it than that."
He had come round at last through the long clearing-up of his mind, to
his fundamental problem again. He sat darkly reluctant.
"I must not play priest or providence to them," he admitted at last. "I
must not even stand between God and them."
He saw now what he had been doing; it had been the flaw in his faith
that he would not trust his family to God. And he saw too that this
distrust has been the flaw in the faith of all religious systems
hitherto....
(13)
In this strange voyage of the spirit which was now drawing to its end,
in which Scrope had travelled from the confused, unanalyzed formulas and
assumptions and implications of his rectory upbringing to his present
stark and simple realization of God, he had at times made some
remarkable self-identifications. He was naturally much given to analogy;
every train of thought in his mind set up induced parallel currents. He
had likened himself to the Anglican church, to the whole Christian body,
as, for example, in his imagined second conversation with the angel
of God. But now he found himself associating himself with a still more
far-reaching section of mankind. This excess of solicitude was traceable
perhaps in nearly every one in all the past of mankind who had ever had
the vision of God. An excessive solicitude to shield those others from
one's own trials and hardships, to preserve the exact quality of the
revelation, for example, had been the fruitful cause of crippling
errors, spiritual tyrannies, dogmatisms, dissensions, and futilities.
"Suffer little children to come unto me"; the text came into his head
with an effect of contribution. The parent in us all flares out at the
thought of the younger and weaker minds; we hide difficulties, seek to
spare them from the fires that temper the spirit, the sharp edge of
the truth that shapes the soul. Christian is always trying to have a
carriage sent back from the Celestial City for his family. Why, we ask,
should they flounder dangerously in the morasses that we escaped, or
wander in the forest in which we lost ourselves? Catch these souls
young, therefore, save them before they know they exist, kidnap them to
heaven; vaccinate them with a catechism they may never understand, lull
them into comfort and routine. Instinct plays us false here as it plays
the savage mother false when she snatches her fevered child from the
doctor's hands. The last act of faith is to trust those we love to
God....
Hitherto he had seen the great nets of theological overstatement and
dogma that kept mankind from God as if they were the work of purely evil
things in man, of pride, of self-assertion, of a desire to possess and
dominate the minds and souls of others. It was only now that he saw how
large a share in the obstruction of God's Kingdom had been played by the
love of the elder and the parent, by the carefulness, the fussy care,
of good men and women. He had wandered in wildernesses of unbelief, in
dangerous places of doubt and questioning, but he had left his wife and
children safe and secure in the self-satisfaction of orthodoxy. To none
of them except to Eleanor had he ever talked with any freedom of his
new apprehensions of religious reality. And that had been at Eleanor's
initiative. There was, he saw now, something of insolence and something
of treachery in this concealment. His ruling disposition throughout the
crisis had been to force comfort and worldly well-being upon all those
dependants even at the price of his own spiritual integrity. In no way
had he consulted them upon the bargain.... While we have pottered, each
for the little good of his own family, each for the lessons and clothes
and leisure of his own children, assenting to this injustice, conforming
to that dishonest custom, being myopically benevolent and fundamentally
treacherous, our accumulated folly has achieved this catastrophe. It is
not so much human wickedness as human weakness that has permitted the
youth of the world to go through this hell of blood and mud and fire.
The way to the kingdom of God is the only way to the true safety, the
true wellbeing of the children of men....
It wasn't fair to them. But now he saw how unfair it was to them in a
light that has only shone plainly upon European life since the great
interlude of the armed peace came to an end in August, 1914. Until
that time it had been the fashion to ignore death and evade poverty and
necessity for the young. We can shield our young no longer, death has
broken through our precautions and tender evasions--and his eyes went
eastward into the twilight that had swallowed up his daughter and her
lover.
The tumbled darkling sky, monstrous masses of frowning blue, with icy
gaps of cold light, was like the great confusions of the war. All our
youth has had to go into that terrible and destructive chaos--because of
the kings and churches and nationalities sturdier-souled men would have
set aside.
Everything was sharp and clear in his mind now. Eleanor after all had
brought him his solution.
He sat quite still for a little while, and then stood up and turned
northward towards Notting Hill.
The keepers were closing Kensington Gardens, and he would have to skirt
the Park to Victoria Gate and go home by the Bayswater Road....
(14)
As he walked he rearranged in his mind this long-overdue apology for his
faith that he was presently to make to his family. There was no one to
interrupt him and nothing to embarrass him, and so he was able to
set out everything very clearly and convincingly. There was perhaps a
disposition to digress into rather voluminous subordinate explanations,
on such themes, for instance, as sacramentalism, whereon he found
himself summarizing Frazer's Golden Bough, which the Chasters'
controversy had first obliged him to read, and upon the irrelevance of
the question of immortality to the process of salvation. But the reality
of his eclaircissement was very different from anything he prepared in
these anticipations.
Tea had been finished and put away, and the family was disposed about
the dining-room engaged in various evening occupations; Phoebe sat at
the table working at some mathematical problem, Clementina was reading
with her chin on her fist and a frown on her brow; Lady Ella, Miriam and
Daphne were busy making soft washing cloths for the wounded; Lady
Ella had brought home the demand for them from the Red Cross centre
in Burlington House. The family was all downstairs in the dining-room
because the evening was chilly, and there were no fires upstairs yet
in the drawing-room. He came into the room and exchanged greetings with
Lady Ella. Then he stood for a time surveying his children. Phoebe, he
noted, was a little flushed; she put passion into her work; on the whole
she was more like Eleanor than any other of them. Miriam knitted with a
steady skill. Clementina's face too expressed a tussle. He took up one
of the rough-knit washing-cloths upon the side-table, and asked how many
could be made in an hour. Then he asked some idle obvious question
about the fire upstairs. Clementina made an involuntary movement; he was
disturbing her. He hovered for a moment longer. He wanted to catch his
wife's eye and speak to her first. She looked up, but before he could
convey his wish for a private conference with her, she smiled at him and
then bent over her work again.
He went into the back study and lit his gas fire. Hitherto he had always
made a considerable explosion when he did so, but this time by taking
thought and lighting his match before he turned on the gas he did it
with only a gentle thud. Then he lit his reading-lamp and pulled down
the blind--pausing for a time to look at the lit dressmaker's opposite.
Then he sat down thoughtfully before the fire. Presently Ella would come
in and he would talk to her. He waited a long time, thinking only weakly
and inconsecutively, and then he became restless. Should he call her?
But he wanted their talk to begin in a natural-seeming way. He did not
want the portentousness of "wanting to speak" to her and calling her out
to him. He got up at last and went back into the other room. Clementina
had gone upstairs, and the book she had been reading was lying closed on
the sideboard. He saw it was one of Chasters' books, he took it up, it
was "The Core of Truth in Christianity," and he felt an irrational
shock at the idea of Clementina reading it. In spite of his own
immense changes of opinion he had still to revise his conception of the
polemical Chasters as an evil influence in religion. He fidgeted
past his wife to the mantel in search of an imaginary mislaid pencil.
Clementina came down with some bandage linen she was cutting out. He
hung over his wife in a way that he felt must convey his desire for a
conversation. Then he picked up Chasters' book again. "Does any one want
this?" he asked.
"Not if I may have it again," consented Clementina.
He took it back with him and began to read again those familiar
controversial pages. He read for the best part of an hour with his knees
drying until they smoked over the gas. What curious stuff it was! How
it wrangled! Was Chasters a religious man? Why did he write these
books? Had he really a passion for truth or only a Swift-like hatred
of weakly-thinking people? None of this stuff in his books was really
wrong, provided it was religious-spirited. Much of it had been indeed
destructively illuminating to its reader. It let daylight through all
sorts of walls. Indeed, the more one read the more vividly true its
acid-bit lines became.... And yet, and yet, there was something hateful
in the man's tone. Scrope held the book and thought. He had seen
Chasters once or twice. Chasters had the sort of face, the sort of
voice, the sort of bearing that made one think of his possibly saying
upon occasion, rudely and rejoicing, "More fool you!" Nevertheless
Scrope perceived now with an effort of discovery that it was from
Chasters that he had taken all the leading ideas of the new faith that
was in him. Here was the stuff of it. He had forgotten how much of it
was here. During those months of worried study while the threat of
a Chasters prosecution hung over him his mind had assimilated almost
unknowingly every assimilable element of the Chasters doctrine; he
had either assimilated and transmuted it by the alchemy of his own
temperament, or he had reacted obviously and filled in Chasters' gaps
and pauses. Chasters could beat a road to the Holy of Holies, and shy
at entering it. But in spite of all the man's roughness, in spite of a
curious flavour of baseness and malice about him, the spirit of truth
had spoken through him. God has a use for harsh ministers. In one man
God lights the heart, in another the reason becomes a consuming fire.
God takes his own where he finds it. He does not limit himself to nice
people. In these matters of evidence and argument, in his contempt for
amiable, demoralizing compromise, Chasters served God as Scrope could
never hope to serve him. Scrope's new faith had perhaps been altogether
impossible if the Chasters controversy had not ploughed his mind.
For a time Scrope dwelt upon this remarkable realization. Then as
he turned over the pages his eyes rested on a passage of uncivil and
ungenerous sarcasm. Against old Likeman of all people!...
What did a girl like Clementina make of all this? How had she got the
book? From Eleanor? The stuff had not hurt Eleanor. Eleanor had been
able to take the good that Chasters taught, and reject the evil of his
spirit....
He thought of Eleanor, gallantly working out her own salvation. The
world was moving fast to a phase of great freedom--for the young and the
bold.... He liked that boy....
His thoughts came back with a start to his wife. The evening was
slipping by and he had momentous things to say to her. He went and just
opened the door.
"Ella!" he said.
"Did you want me?"
"Presently."
She put a liberal interpretation upon that "presently," so that after
what seemed to him a long interval he had to call again, "Ella!"
"Just a minute," she answered.
(15)
Lady Ella was still, so to speak, a little in the other room when she
came to him.
"Shut that door, please," he said, and felt the request had just that
flavour of portentousness he wished to avoid.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I wanted to talk to you--about some things. I've done something rather
serious to-day. I've made an important decision."
Her face became anxious. "What do you mean?" she asked.
"You see," he said, leaning upon the mantelshelf and looking down at the
gas flames, "I've never thought that we should all have to live in this
crowded house for long."
"All!" she interrupted in a voice that made him look up sharply. "You're
not going away, Ted?"
"Oh, no. But I hoped we should all be going away in a little time. It
isn't so."
"I never quite understood why you hoped that."
"It was plain enough."
"How?"
"I thought I should have found something to do that would have enabled
us to live in better style. I'd had a plan."
"What plan?"
"It's fallen through."
"But what plan was it?"
"I thought I should be able to set up a sort of broad church chapel. I
had a promise."
Her voice was rich with indignation. "And she has betrayed you?"
"No," he said, "I have betrayed her."
Lady Ella's face showed them still at cross purposes. He looked down
again and frowned. "I can't do that chapel business," he said. "I've had
to let her down. I've got to let you all down. There's no help for it.
It isn't the way. I can't have anything to do with Lady Sunderbund and
her chapel."
"But," Lady Ella was still perplexed.
"It's too great a sacrifice."
"Of us?"
"No, of myself. I can't get into her pulpit and do as she wants and keep
my conscience. It's been a horrible riddle for me. It means plunging
into all this poverty for good. But I can't work with her, Ella. She's
impossible."
"You mean--you're going to break with Lady Sunderbund?"
"I must."
"Then, Teddy!"--she was a woman groping for flight amidst intolerable
perplexities--"why did you ever leave the church?"
"Because I have ceased to believe--"
"But had it nothing to do with Lady Sunderbund?"
He stared at her in astonishment.
"If it means breaking with that woman," she said.
"You mean," he said, beginning for the first time to comprehend her,
"that you don't mind the poverty?"
"Poverty!" she cried. "I cared for nothing but the disgrace."
"Disgrace?"
"Oh, never mind, Ted! If it isn't true, if I've been dreaming...."
Instead of a woman stunned by a life sentence of poverty, he saw his
wife rejoicing as if she had heard good news.
Their minds were held for a minute by the sound of some one knocking
at the house door; one of the girls opened the door, there was a brief
hubbub in the passage and then they heard a cry of "Eleanor!" through
the folding doors.
"There's Eleanor," he said, realizing he had told his wife nothing of
the encounter in Hyde Park.
They heard Eleanor's clear voice: "Where's Mummy? Or Daddy?" and then:
"Can't stay now, dears. Where's Mummy or Daddy?"
"I ought to have told you," said Scrope quickly. "I met Eleanor in the
Park. By accident. She's come up unexpectedly. To meet a boy going to
the front. Quite a nice boy. Son of Riverton the doctor. The parting had
made them understand one another. It's all right, Ella. It's a little
irregular, but I'd stake my life on the boy. She's very lucky."
Eleanor appeared through the folding doors. She came to business at
once.
"I promised you I'd come back to supper here, Daddy," she said. "But I
don't want to have supper here. I want to stay out late."
She saw her mother look perplexed. "Hasn't Daddy told you?"
"But where is young Riverton?"
"He's outside."
Eleanor became aware of a broad chink in the folding doors that was
making the dining-room an auditorium for their dialogue. She shut them
deftly.
"I have told Mummy," Scrope explained. "Bring him in to supper. We ought
to see him."
Eleanor hesitated. She indicated her sisters beyond the folding doors.
"They'll all be watching us, Mummy," she said. "We'd be uncomfortable.
And besides--"
"But you can't go out and dine with him alone!"
"Oh, Mummy! It's our only chance."
"Customs are changing," said Scrope.
"But can they?" asked Lady Ella.
"I don't see why not."
The mother was still doubtful, but she was in no mood to cross her
husband that night. "It's an exceptional occasion," said Scrope, and
Eleanor knew her point was won. She became radiant. "I can be late?"
Scrope handed her his latch-key without a word.
"You dear kind things," she said, and went to the door. Then turned and
came back and kissed her father. Then she kissed her mother. "It is
so kind of you," she said, and was gone. They listened to her passage
through a storm of questions in the dining-room.
"Three months ago that would have shocked me," said Lady Ella.
"You haven't seen the boy," said Scrope.
"But the appearances!"
"Aren't we rather breaking with appearances?" he said.
"And he goes to-morrow--perhaps to get killed," he added. "A lad like
a schoolboy. A young thing. Because of the political foolery that we
priests and teachers have suffered in the place of the Kingdom of God,
because we have allowed the religion of Europe to become a lie; because
no man spoke the word of God. You see--when I see that--see those two,
those children of one-and-twenty, wrenched by tragedy, beginning with
a parting.... It's like a knife slashing at all our appearances and
discretions.... Think of our lovemaking...."
The front door banged.
He had some idea of resuming their talk. But his was a scattered mind
now.
"It's a quarter to eight," he said as if in explanation.
"I must see to the supper," said Lady Ella.
(16)
There was an air of tension at supper as though the whole family felt
that momentous words impended. But Phoebe had emerged victorious from
her mathematical struggle, and she seemed to eat with better appetite
than she had shown for some time. It was a cold meat supper; Lady Ella
had found it impossible to keep up the regular practice of a cooked
dinner in the evening, and now it was only on Thursdays that the
Scropes, to preserve their social tradition, dressed and dined; the rest
of the week they supped. Lady Ella never talked very much at supper;
this evening was no exception. Clementina talked of London University
and Bedford College; she had been making enquiries; Daphne described
some of the mistresses at her new school. The feeling that something was
expected had got upon Scrope's nerves. He talked a little in a flat and
obvious way, and lapsed into thoughtful silences. While supper was being
cleared away he went back into his study.
Thence he returned to the dining-room hearthrug as his family resumed
their various occupations.
He tried to speak in a casual conversational tone.
"I want to tell you all," he said, "of something that has happened
to-day."
He waited. Phoebe had begun to figure at a fresh sheet of computations.
Miriam bent her head closer over her work, as though she winced at what
was coming. Daphne and Clementina looked at one another. Their eyes said
"Eleanor!" But he was too full of his own intention to read that glance.
Only his wife regarded him attentively.
"It concerns you all," he said.
He looked at Phoebe. He saw Lady Ella's hand go out and touch the girl's
hand gently to make her desist. Phoebe obeyed, with a little sigh.
"I want to tell you that to-day I refused an income that would certainly
have exceeded fifteen hundred pounds a year."
Clementina looked up now. This was not what she expected. Her expression
conveyed protesting enquiry.
"I want you all to understand why I did that and why we are in the
position we are in, and what lies before us. I want you to know what has
been going on in my mind."
He looked down at the hearthrug, and tried to throw off a memory of his
Princhester classes for young women, that oppressed him. His manner
he forced to a more familiar note. He stuck his hands into his trouser
pockets.
"You know, my dears, I had to give up the church. I just simply didn't
believe any more in orthodox Church teaching. And I feel I've never
explained that properly to you. Not at all clearly. I want to explain
that now. It's a queer thing, I know, for me to say to you, but I want
you to understand that I am a religious man. I believe that God matters
more than wealth or comfort or position or the respect of men, that he
also matters more than your comfort and prosperity. God knows I have
cared for your comfort and prosperity. I don't want you to think that in
all these changes we have been through lately, I haven't been aware of
all the discomfort into which you have come--the relative discomfort.
Compared with Princhester this is dark and crowded and poverty-stricken.
I have never felt crowded before, but in this house I know you are
horribly crowded. It is a house that seems almost contrived for small
discomforts. This narrow passage outside; the incessant going up and
down stairs. And there are other things. There is the blankness of our
London Sundays. What is the good of pretending? They are desolating.
There's the impossibility too of getting good servants to come into our
dug-out kitchen. I'm not blind to all these sordid consequences. But all
the same, God has to be served first. I had to come to this. I felt I
could not serve God any longer as a bishop in the established church,
because I did not believe that the established church was serving God.
I struggled against that conviction--and I struggled against it largely
for your sakes. But I had to obey my conviction.... I haven't talked
to you about these things as much as I should have done, but partly at
least that is due to the fact that my own mind has been changing and
reconsidering, going forward and going back, and in that fluid state
it didn't seem fair to tell you things that I might presently find
mistaken. But now I begin to feel that I have really thought out things,
and that they are definite enough to tell you...."
He paused and resumed. "A number of things have helped to change the
opinions in which I grew up and in which you have grown up. There were
worries at Princhester; I didn't let you know much about them, but there
were. There was something harsh and cruel in that atmosphere. I saw for
the first time--it's a lesson I'm still only learning--how harsh and
greedy rich people and employing people are to poor people and working
people, and how ineffective our church was to make things better. That
struck me. There were religious disputes in the diocese too, and they
shook me. I thought my faith was built on a rock, and I found it was
built on sand. It was slipping and sliding long before the war. But the
war brought it down. Before the war such a lot of things in England and
Europe seemed like a comedy or a farce, a bad joke that one tolerated.
One tried half consciously, half avoiding the knowledge of what one was
doing, to keep one's own little circle and life civilized. The war shook
all those ideas of isolation, all that sort of evasion, down. The world
is the rightful kingdom of God; we had left its affairs to kings and
emperors and suchlike impostors, to priests and profit-seekers and
greedy men. We were genteel condoners. The war has ended that. It
thrusts into all our lives. It brings death so close--A fortnight ago
twenty-seven people were killed and injured within a mile of this by
Zeppelin bombs.... Every one loses some one.... Because through all that
time men like myself were going through our priestly mummeries, abasing
ourselves to kings and politicians, when we ought to have been crying
out: 'No! No! There is no righteousness in the world, there is no right
government, except it be the kingdom of God.'"
He paused and looked at them. They were all listening to him now. But he
was still haunted by a dread of preaching in his own family. He dropped
to the conversational note again.
"You see what I had in mind. I saw I must come out of this, and preach
the kingdom of God. That was my idea. I don't want to force it upon you,
but I want you to understand why I acted as I did. But let me come to
the particular thing that has happened to-day. I did not think when I
made my final decision to leave the church that it meant such poverty as
this we are living in--permanently. That is what I want to make clear to
you. I thought there would be a temporary dip into dinginess, but that
was all. There was a plan; at the time it seemed a right and reasonable
plan; for setting up a chapel in London, a very plain and simple
undenominational chapel, for the simple preaching of the world kingdom
of God. There was some one who seemed prepared to meet all the immediate
demands for such a chapel."
"Was it Lady Sunderbund?" asked Clementina.
Scrope was pulled up abruptly. "Yes," he said. "It seemed at first a
quite hopeful project."
"We'd have hated that," said Clementina, with a glance as if for assent,
at her mother. "We should all have hated that."
"Anyhow it has fallen through."
"We don't mind that," said Clementina, and Daphne echoed her words.
"I don't see that there is any necessity to import this note
of--hostility to Lady Sunderbund into this matter." He addressed
himself rather more definitely to Lady Ella. "She's a woman of a very
extraordinary character, highly emotional, energetic, generous to an
extraordinary extent...."
Daphne made a little noise like a comment.
A faint acerbity in her father's voice responded.
"Anyhow you make a mistake if you think that the personality of Lady
Sunderbund has very much to do with this thing now. Her quality may have
brought out certain aspects of the situation rather more sharply than
they might have been brought out under other circumstances, but if
this chapel enterprise had been suggested by quite a different sort of
person, by a man, or by a committee, in the end I think I should have
come to the same conclusion. Leave Lady Sunderbund out. Any chapel was
impossible. It is just this specialization that has been the trouble
with religion. It is just this tendency to make it the business of
a special sort of man, in a special sort of building, on a special
day--Every man, every building, every day belongs equally to God.
That is my conviction. I think that the only possible existing sort of
religions meeting is something after the fashion of the Quaker meeting.
In that there is no professional religious man at all; not a trace of
the sacrifices to the ancient gods.... And no room for a professional
religions man...." He felt his argument did a little escape him. He
snatched, "That is what I want to make clear to you. God is not a
speciality; he is a universal interest."
He stopped. Both Daphne and Clementina seemed disposed to say something
and did not say anything.
Miriam was the first to speak. "Daddy," she said, "I know I'm stupid.
But are we still Christians?"
"I want you to think for yourselves."
"But I mean," said Miriam, "are we--something like Quakers--a sort of
very broad Christians?"
"You are what you choose to be. If you want to keep in the church, then
you must keep in the church. If you feel that the Christian doctrine is
alive, then it is alive so far as you are concerned."
"But the creeds?" asked Clementina.
He shook his head. "So far as Christianity is defined by its creeds,
I am not a Christian. If we are going to call any sort of religious
feeling that has a respect for Jesus, Christianity, then no doubt I am
a Christian. But so was Mohammed at that rate. Let me tell you what I
believe. I believe in God, I believe in the immediate presence of God in
every human life, I believe that our lives have to serve the Kingdom of
God...."
"That practically is what Mr. Chasters calls 'The Core of Truth in
Christianity.'"
"You have been reading him?"
"Eleanor lent me the book. But Mr. Chasters keeps his living."
"I am not Chasters," said Scrope stiffly, and then relenting: "What he
does may be right for him. But I could not do as he does."
Lady Ella had said no word for some time.
"I would be ashamed," she said quietly, "if you had not done as you
have done. I don't mind--The girls don't mind--all this.... Not when we
understand--as we do now."
That was the limit of her eloquence.
"Not now that we understand, Daddy," said Clementina, and a faint
flavour of Lady Sunderbund seemed to pass and vanish.
There was a queer little pause. He stood rather distressed and
perplexed, because the talk had not gone quite as he had intended it
to go. It had deteriorated towards personal issues. Phoebe broke the
awkwardness by jumping up and coming to her father. "Dear Daddy," she
said, and kissed him.
"We didn't understand properly," said Clementina, in the tone of one who
explains away much--that had never been spoken....
"Daddy," said Miriam with an inspiration, "may I play something to you
presently?"
"But the fire!" interjected Lady Ella, disposing of that idea.
"I want you to know, all of you, the faith I have," he said.
Daphne had remained seated at the table.
"Are we never to go to church again?" she asked, as if at a loss.
(17)
Scrope went back into his little study. He felt shy and awkward with his
daughters now. He felt it would be difficult to get back to usualness
with them. To-night it would be impossible. To-morrow he must come
down to breakfast as though their talk had never occurred.... In his
rehearsal of this deliverance during his walk home he had spoken much
more plainly of his sense of the coming of God to rule the world and end
the long age of the warring nations and competing traders, and he had
intended to speak with equal plainness of the passionate subordination
of the individual life to this great common purpose of God and man, an
aspect he had scarcely mentioned at all. But in that little room, in the
presence of those dear familiar people, those great horizons of life
had vanished. The room with its folding doors had fixed the scale.
The wallpaper had smothered the Kingdom of God; he had been, he felt,
domestic; it had been an after-supper talk. He had been put out, too, by
the mention of Lady Sunderbund and the case of Chasters....
In his study he consoled himself for this diminution of his intention.
It had taken him five years, he reflected, to get to his present real
sense of God's presence and to his personal subordination to God's
purpose. It had been a little absurd, he perceived, to expect these
girls to leap at once to a complete understanding of the halting hints,
the allusive indications of the thoughts that now possessed his soul. He
tried like some maiden speaker to recall exactly what it was he had said
and what it was he had forgotten to say.... This was merely a beginning,
merely a beginning.
After the girls had gone to bed, Lady Ella came to him and she was
glowing and tender; she was in love again as she had not been since the
shadow had first fallen between them. "I was so glad you spoke to them,"
she said. "They had been puzzled. But they are dear loyal girls."
He tried to tell her rather more plainly what he felt about the whole
question of religion in their lives, but eloquence had departed from
him.
"You see, Ella, life cannot get out of tragedy--and sordid
tragedy--until we bring about the Kingdom of God. It's no unreality that
has made me come out of the church."
"No, dear. No," she said soothingly and reassuringly. "With all these
mere boys going to the most dreadful deaths in the trenches, with death,
hardship and separation running amok in the world--"
"One has to do something," she agreed.
"I know, dear," he said, "that all this year of doubt and change has
been a dreadful year for you."
"It was stupid of me," she said, "but I have been so unhappy. It's
over now--but I was wretched. And there was nothing I could say....
I prayed.... It isn't the poverty I feared ever, but the disgrace.
Now--I'm happy. I'm happy again.
"But how far do you come with me?"
"I'm with you."
"But," he said, "you are still a churchwoman?"
"I don't know," she said. "I don't mind."
He stared at her.
"But I thought always that was what hurt you most, my breach with the
church."
"Things are so different now," she said.
Her heart dissolved within her into tender possessiveness. There came
flooding into her mind the old phrases of an ancient story: "Whither
thou goest I will go... thy people shall be my people and thy God my
God.... The Lord do so to me and more also if aught but death part thee
and me."
Just those words would Lady Ella have said to her husband now, but she
was capable of no such rhetoric.
"Whither thou goest," she whispered almost inaudibly, and she could get
no further. "My dear," she said.
(18)
At two o'clock the next morning Scrope was still up. He was sitting over
the snoring gas fire in his study. He did not want to go to bed. His
mind was too excited, he knew, for any hope of sleep. In the last twelve
hours, since he had gone out across the park to his momentous talk with
Lady Sunderbund, it seemed to him that his life had passed through its
cardinal crisis and come to its crown and decision. The spiritual voyage
that had begun five years ago amidst a stormy succession of theological
nightmares had reached harbour at last. He was established now in the
sure conviction of God's reality, and of his advent to unify the lives
of men and to save mankind. Some unobserved process in his mind had
perfected that conviction, behind the cloudy veil of his vacillations
and moods. Surely that work was finished now, and the day's experience
had drawn the veil and discovered God established for ever.
He contrasted this simple and overruling knowledge of God as the supreme
fact in a practical world with that vague and ineffective subject for
sentiment who had been the "God" of his Anglican days. Some theologian
once spoke of God as "the friend behind phenomena"; that Anglican deity
had been rather a vague flummery behind court and society, wealth,
"respectability," and the comfortable life. And even while he had lived
in lipservice to that complaisant compromise, this true God had been
here, this God he now certainly professed, waiting for his allegiance,
waiting to take up the kingship of this distraught and bloodstained
earth. The finding of God is but the stripping of bandages from the
eyes. Seek and ye shall find....
He whispered four words very softly: "The Kingdom of God!"
He was quite sure he had that now, quite sure.
The Kingdom of God!
That now was the form into which all his life must fall. He recalled his
vision of the silver sphere and of ten thousand diverse minds about the
world all making their ways to the same one conclusion. Here at last was
a king and emperor for mankind for whom one need have neither contempt
nor resentment; here was an aim for which man might forge the steel
and wield the scalpel, write and paint and till and teach. Upon this
conception he must model all his life. Upon this basis he must found
friendships and co-operations. All the great religions, Christianity,
Islam, in the days of their power and honesty, had proclaimed the advent
of this kingdom of God. It had been their common inspiration. A religion
surrenders when it abandons the promise of its Millennium. He had
recovered that ancient and immortal hope. All men must achieve it, and
with their achievement the rule of God begins. He muttered his faith. It
made it more definite to put it into words and utter it. "It comes.
It surely comes. To-morrow I begin. I will do no work that goes not
Godward. Always now it shall be the truth as near as I can put it.
Always now it shall be the service of the commonweal as well as I can
do it. I will live for the ending of all false kingship and priestcraft,
for the eternal growth of the spirit of man...."
He was, he knew clearly, only one common soldier in a great army that
was finding its way to enlistment round and about the earth. He was not
alone. While the kings of this world fought for dominion these others
gathered and found themselves and one another, these others of the faith
that grows plain, these men who have resolved to end the bloodstained
chronicles of the Dynasts and the miseries of a world that trades in
life, for ever. They were many men, speaking divers tongues. He was
but one who obeyed the worldwide impulse. He could smile at the artless
vanity that had blinded him to the import of his earlier visions, that
had made him imagine himself a sole discoverer, a new Prophet, that had
brought him so near to founding a new sect. Every soldier in the new
host was a recruiting sergeant according to his opportunity.... And none
was leader. Only God was leader....
"The achievement of the Kingdom of God;" this was his calling.
Henceforth this was his business in life....
For a time he indulged in vague dreams of that kingdom of God on earth
of which he would be one of the makers; it was a dream of a shadowy
splendour of cities, of great scientific achievements, of a universal
beauty, of beautiful people living in the light of God, of a splendid
adventure, thrusting out at last among the stars. But neither his
natural bent nor his mental training inclined him to mechanical or
administrative explicitness. Much more was his dream a vision of
men inwardly ennobled and united in spirit. He saw history growing
reasonable and life visibly noble as mankind realized the divine aim.
All the outward peace and order, the joy of physical existence finely
conceived, the mounting power and widening aim were but the expression
and verification of the growth of God within. Then we would bear
children for finer ends than the blood and mud of battlefields. Life
would tower up like a great flame. By faith we reached forward to that.
The vision grew more splendid as it grew more metaphorical. And the
price one paid for that; one gave sham dignities, false honour, a
Levitical righteousness, immediate peace, one bartered kings and
churches for God.... He looked at the mean, poverty-struck room, he
marked the dinginess and tawdriness of its detail and all the sordid
evidences of ungracious bargaining and grudging service in its
appointments. For all his life now he would have to live in such rooms.
He who had been one of the lucky ones.... Well, men were living in
dug-outs and dying gaily in muddy trenches, they had given limbs and
lives, eyes and the joy of movement, prosperity and pride, for a smaller
cause and a feebler assurance than this that he had found....
(19)
Presently his thoughts were brought back to his family by the sounds of
Eleanor's return. He heard her key in the outer door; he heard her move
about in the hall and then slip lightly up to bed. He did not go out to
speak to her, and she did not note the light under his door.
He would talk to her later when this discovery of her own emotions no
longer dominated her mind. He recalled her departing figure and how she
had walked, touching and looking up to her young mate, and he a little
leaning to her....
"God bless them and save them," he said....
He thought of her sisters. They had said but little to his clumsy
explanations. He thought of the years and experience that they must
needs pass through before they could think the fulness of his present
thoughts, and so he tempered his disappointment. They were a gallant
group, he felt. He had to thank Ella and good fortune that so they were.
There was Clementina with her odd quick combatant sharpness, a harder
being than Eleanor, but nevertheless a fine-spirited and even more
independent. There was Miriam, indefatigably kind. Phoebe too had a real
passion of the intellect and Daphne an innate disposition to service.
But it was strange how they had taken his proclamation of a conclusive
breach with the church as though it was a command they must, at least
outwardly, obey. He had expected them to be more deeply shocked; he had
thought he would have to argue against objections and convert them to
his views. Their acquiescence was strange. They were content he should
think all this great issue out and give his results to them. And his
wife, well as he knew her, had surprised him. He thought of her words:
"Whither thou goest--"
He was dissatisfied with this unconditional agreement. Why could not
his wife meet God as he had met God? Why must Miriam put the fantastic
question--as though it was not for her to decide: "Are we still
Christians?" And pursuing this thought, why couldn't Lady Sunderbund set
up in religion for herself without going about the world seeking for
a priest and prophet. Were women Undines who must get their souls from
mortal men? And who was it tempted men to set themselves up as priests?
It was the wife, the disciple, the lover, who was the last, the most
fatal pitfall on the way to God.
He began to pray, still sitting as he prayed.
"Oh God!" he prayed. "Thou who has shown thyself to me, let me never
forget thee again. Save me from forgetfulness. And show thyself to those
I love; show thyself to all mankind. Use me, O God, use me; but keep my
soul alive. Save me from the presumption of the trusted servant; save me
from the vanity of authority....
"And let thy light shine upon all those who are so dear to me.... Save
them from me. Take their dear loyalty...."
He paused. A flushed, childishly miserable face that stared indignantly
through glittering tears, rose before his eyes. He forgot that he had
been addressing God.
"How can I help you, you silly thing?" he said. "I would give my own
soul to know that God had given his peace to you. I could not do as you
wished. And I have hurt you!... You hurt yourself.... But all the time
you would have hampered me and tempted me--and wasted yourself. It was
impossible.... And yet you are so fine!"
He was struck by another aspect.
"Ella was happy--partly because Lady Sunderbund was hurt and left
desolated...."
"Both of them are still living upon nothings. Living for nothings. A
phantom way of living...."
He stared blankly at the humming blue gas jets amidst the incandescent
asbestos for a space.
"Make them understand," he pleaded, as though he spoke confidentially of
some desirable and reasonable thing to a friend who sat beside him. "You
see it is so hard for them until they understand. It is easy enough when
one understands. Easy--" He reflected for some moments--"It is as if
they could not exist--except in relationship to other definite people.
I want them to exist--as now I exist--in relationship to God. Knowing
God...."
But now he was talking to himself again.
"So far as one can know God," he said presently.
For a while he remained frowning at the fire. Then he bent forward,
turned out the gas, arose with the air of a man who relinquishes a
difficult task. "One is limited," he said. "All one's ideas must fall
within one's limitations. Faith is a sort of tour de force. A feat of
the imagination. For such things as we are. Naturally--naturally.... One
perceives it clearly only in rare moments.... That alters nothing...."
Mr. WELLS has also written the following novels:
LOVE AND MR. LEWISHAM
KIPPS
MR. POLLY
THE WHEELS OF CHANCE
THE NEW MACHIAVELLI
ANN VERONICA
TONO BUNGAY
MARRIAGE
BEALBY
THE PASSIONATE FRIENDS
THE WIFE OF SIR ISAAC HARMAN
THE RESEARCH MAGNIFICENT
MR. BRITLING SEES IT THROUGH
The following fantastic and imaginative romances:
THE WAR OF THE WORLDS
THE TIME MACHINE
THE WONDERFUL VISIT
THE ISLAND OF DR. MOREAU
THE SEA LADY
THE SLEEPER AWAKES
THE FOOD OF THE GODS
THE WAR IN THE AIR
THE FIRST MEN IN THE MOON
IN THE DAYS OF THE COMET
THE WORLD SET FREE
And numerous Short Stories now collected in
One Volume under the title of
THE COUNTRY OF THE BLIND
A Series of books upon Social, Religious and
Political questions:
ANTICIPATIONS (1900)
MANKIND IN THE MAKING
FIRST AND LAST THINGS (RELIGION AND PHILOSOPHY)
NEW WORLDS FOR OLD
A MODERN UTOPIA
THE FUTURE IN AMERICA
AN ENGLISHMAN LOOKS AT THE WORLD
WHAT IS COMING?
WAR AND THE FUTURE
GOD THE INVISIBLE KING
And two little books about children's play, called:
FLOOR GAMES and LITTLE WARS
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Soul of a Bishop, by H. G. Wells
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Question: What does Lady Sunderbund proclaim when she shows up to surprise Bishop Scrope?
Answer: She wants to become his spiritual pupil
|
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|
Passage 1:
The Maddest Car in the World
The Maddest Car in the World is a 1975 West German comedy film directed by Rudolf Zehetgruber and starring Zehetgruber, Salvatore Borghese, Kathrin Oginski and Walter Giller. It was one of Zehetgruber's films of the "Superbug" film series made as a response to the German box office success of "The Love Bug" (Herbie).
Passage 2:
Michael Govan
Michael Govan( born 1963) is the director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art since 2006. Prior to this, Govan worked as the director of the Dia Art Foundation in New York City.
Passage 3:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 4:
Dana Blankstein
Dana Blankstein- Cohen( born March 3, 1981) is the director of the Israeli Academy of Film and Television. She is a film director, and an Israeli culture entrepreneur.
Passage 5:
John Donatich
John Donatich is the Director of Yale University Press.
Passage 6:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 7:
Rudolf Zehetgruber
Rudolf Zehetgruber (born 16 September 1926) is an Austrian film director, producer, screenwriter and actor who directed 17 films between 1960 and 1985. He is most known for writing and directing the Superbug/Dudu film series that featured his wife Kathrin Oginski (Barbara Kathrin Zehetgruber) and two entries in the Kommissar X film series.
Passage 8:
John Farrell (businessman)
John Farrell is the director of YouTube in Latin America.
Passage 9:
Olav Aaraas
Olav Aaraas( born 10 July 1950) is a Norwegian historian and museum director. He was born in Fredrikstad. From 1982 to 1993 he was the director of Sogn Folk Museum, from 1993 to 2010 he was the director of Maihaugen and from 2001 he has been the director of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. In 2010 he was decorated with the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.
Passage 10:
Brian Kennedy (gallery director)
Brian Patrick Kennedy( born 5 November 1961) is an Irish- born art museum director who has worked in Ireland and Australia, and now lives and works in the United States. He is currently the director of the Peabody Essex Museum. He was the director of the Toledo Museum of Art in Ohio from 2010 to 2019. He was the director of the Hood Museum of Art from 2005 to 2010, and the National Gallery of Australia( Canberra) from 1997- 2004.
Question: What nationality is the director of film The Maddest Car In The World?
Answer: Austrian
|
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|
A series of new editors-in-chief oversaw the company during another slow time for the industry. Once again, Marvel attempted to diversify, and with the updating of the Comics Code achieved moderate to strong success with titles themed to horror (The Tomb of Dracula), martial arts, (Shang-Chi: Master of Kung Fu), sword-and-sorcery (Conan the Barbarian, Red Sonja), satire (Howard the Duck) and science fiction (2001: A Space Odyssey, "Killraven" in Amazing Adventures, Battlestar Galactica, Star Trek, and, late in the decade, the long-running Star Wars series). Some of these were published in larger-format black and white magazines, under its Curtis Magazines imprint. Marvel was able to capitalize on its successful superhero comics of the previous decade by acquiring a new newsstand distributor and greatly expanding its comics line. Marvel pulled ahead of rival DC Comics in 1972, during a time when the price and format of the standard newsstand comic were in flux. Goodman increased the price and size of Marvel's November 1971 cover-dated comics from 15 cents for 36 pages total to 25 cents for 52 pages. DC followed suit, but Marvel the following month dropped its comics to 20 cents for 36 pages, offering a lower-priced product with a higher distributor discount.
Question: What situation allowed Marvel to expand into more adult-themed genre stories?
Answer: the updating of the Comics Code
Question: What were two of Marvel's comic heroes in fantasy, swords and magic settings?
Answer: Conan the Barbarian, Red Sonja
Question: What waterfowl character had his own satire series of comic books?
Answer: Howard the Duck
Question: In what year did Marvel's sales overtake rival DC?
Answer: 1972
Question: How were some of Marvel's genre titles published in the 1970s?
Answer: larger-format black and white magazines, under its Curtis Magazines imprint
|
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// Copyright (C) 2009-2017 Luca Piccioni
//
// Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy
// of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal
// in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights
// to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell
// copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is
// furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
//
// The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all
// copies or substantial portions of the Software.
//
// THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
// IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY,
// FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE
// AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER
// LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM,
// OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE
// SOFTWARE.
using System;
using System.Diagnostics;
using System.Drawing;
using System.Threading;
#if NET45
using System.Threading.Tasks;
#endif
namespace OpenGL.Objects
{
/// <summary>
/// Two dimensional texture.
/// </summary>
[DebuggerDisplay("Texture2D: Width={Width} Height={Height} Format={PixelLayout}")]
public class Texture2D : Texture
{
#region Constructors
/// <summary>
/// Construct an undefined Texture2D.
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>
/// <para>
/// It creates Texture object which has not defined extents, internal format and textels. To define this texture, call one
/// of Create" methods (except <see cref="Create(GraphicsContext)"/>).
/// </para>
/// </remarks>
public Texture2D()
{
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data, defining only the extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelFormat.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by the current context and <paramref name="width"/>
/// or <paramref name="height"/> is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public Texture2D(uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format)
{
Create(width, height, format);
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data, defining only the extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for creating this Texture. If it null, the current context
/// will be used.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelFormat.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="ctx"/> is null and no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by <paramref name="ctx"/> (or by the current context is <paramref name="ctx"/> is
/// null), and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public Texture2D(GraphicsContext ctx, uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format)
{
Create(ctx, width, height, format);
}
#endregion
#region Create
/// <summary>
/// Technique defining an empty mutable texture.
/// </summary>
class EmptyTechnique : Technique
{
#region Constructors
/// <summary>
/// Construct a EmptyTechnique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="texture">
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </param>
/// <param name="target">
/// A <see cref="TextureTarget"/> that specify the texture target.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// The specific level of the target to be defined.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// The texture pixel format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// The width of the texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// The height of the texture.
/// </param>
public EmptyTechnique(Texture2D texture, TextureTarget target, uint level, PixelLayout pixelFormat, uint width, uint height) :
base(texture)
{
if (level == 0 && (width == 0 || height == 0))
throw new InvalidOperationException("empty base level not allowed");
_Texture2d = texture;
_Target = target;
_Level = level;
_PixelFormat = pixelFormat;
_Width = width;
_Height = height;
}
#endregion
#region Overrides
/// <summary>
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </summary>
protected readonly Texture2D _Texture2d;
/// <summary>
/// The texture target to use for creating the empty texture.
/// </summary>
protected readonly TextureTarget _Target;
/// <summary>
/// The specific level of the target to define. Defaults to zero.
/// </summary>
protected readonly uint _Level;
/// <summary>
/// The internal pixel format of textel.
/// </summary>
protected readonly PixelLayout _PixelFormat;
/// <summary>
/// Texture width.
/// </summary>
protected readonly uint _Width;
/// <summary>
/// Texture height.
/// </summary>
protected readonly uint _Height;
/// <summary>
/// Create the texture, using this technique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for allocating resources.
/// </param>
public override void Create(GraphicsContext ctx)
{
InternalFormat internalFormat = _PixelFormat.ToInternalFormat();
PixelFormat format = _PixelFormat.ToDataFormat();
// Define empty texture
Gl.TexImage2D(_Target, (int)_Level, internalFormat, (int)_Width, (int)_Height, 0, format, /* Unused */ PixelType.UnsignedByte, IntPtr.Zero);
// Define texture properties
_Texture2d.SetMipmap(_PixelFormat, _Width, _Height, 1, _Level);
}
#endregion
}
/// <summary>
/// Technique defining an immutable empty texture.
/// </summary>
class ImmutableEmptyTechnique : EmptyTechnique
{
#region Constructors
/// <summary>
/// Construct a ImmutableEmptyTechnique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="texture">
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </param>
/// <param name="target">
/// A <see cref="TextureTarget"/> that specify the texture target.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// The texture pixel format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// The width of the texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// The height of the texture.
/// </param>
public ImmutableEmptyTechnique(Texture2D texture, TextureTarget target, PixelLayout pixelFormat, uint width, uint height) :
this(texture, target, pixelFormat, width, height, GetMipmapCompleteLevels(width, height, 1, 0))
{
}
/// <summary>
/// Construct a ImmutableEmptyTechnique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="texture">
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </param>
/// <param name="target">
/// A <see cref="TextureTarget"/> that specify the texture target.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// The texture pixel format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// The width of the texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// The height of the texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="levels">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the number of levels defining the texture.
/// </param>
public ImmutableEmptyTechnique(Texture2D texture, TextureTarget target, PixelLayout pixelFormat, uint width, uint height, uint levels) :
base(texture, target, 0, pixelFormat, width, height)
{
if (levels == 0)
throw new ArgumentException("invalid value", "levels");
_MipmapLevels = levels;
}
#endregion
#region Overrides
/// <summary>
/// Texture mipmaps levels.
/// </summary>
protected readonly uint _MipmapLevels;
/// <summary>
/// Create the texture, using this technique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for allocating resources.
/// </param>
public override void Create(GraphicsContext ctx)
{
// Define storage
InternalFormat internalFormat = _PixelFormat.ToInternalFormat();
if (!IsImmutableSupported(ctx)) {
PixelFormat format = _PixelFormat.ToDataFormat();
for (uint level = 0, w = _Width, h = _Height; level < _MipmapLevels; level++, w = Math.Max(1, w / 2), h = Math.Max(1, h / 2)) {
Gl.TexImage2D(_Target, (int)level, internalFormat, (int)w, (int)h, 0, format, /* Unused */ PixelType.UnsignedByte, IntPtr.Zero);
// Always check for errors
Gl.CheckErrors();
}
} else {
Gl.TexStorage2D(_Target, (int)_MipmapLevels, internalFormat, (int)_Width, (int)_Height);
// Always check for errors
Gl.CheckErrors();
}
// Define mipmap array
for (uint level = 0, w = _Width, h = _Height; level < _MipmapLevels; level++, w = Math.Max(1, w / 2), h = Math.Max(1, h / 2))
_Texture2d.SetMipmap(_PixelFormat, w, h, 1, level);
}
#endregion
}
#region Create(width, height, pixelformat)
/// <summary>
/// Create a Texture2D, defining the texture extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by current context, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
Technique technique;
if (Immutable)
technique = new ImmutableEmptyTechnique(this, TextureTarget, format, width, height);
else
technique = new EmptyTechnique(this, TextureTarget, 0, format, width, height);
SetTechnique(technique);
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data, defining only the extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for creating this Texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="ctx"/> is null and no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by <paramref name="ctx"/>, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(GraphicsContext ctx, uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
CheckCurrentContext(ctx);
// Define technique
Create(width, height, format);
// Actually create texture
Create(ctx);
}
#endregion
#region Create(width, height, level, pixelformat)
/// <summary>
/// Create a Texture2D, defining the texture extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture level to create/update.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by current context, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(uint width, uint height, uint level, PixelLayout format)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
SetTechnique(new EmptyTechnique(this, TextureTarget, level, format, width, height));
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data, defining only the extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for creating this Texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture level to create/update.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="ctx"/> is null and no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by <paramref name="ctx"/>, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(GraphicsContext ctx, uint width, uint height, uint level, PixelLayout format)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
CheckCurrentContext(ctx);
// Define technique
Create(width, height, level, format);
// Actually create texture
Create(ctx);
}
#endregion
#region Create(width, height, pixelformat, levels)
/// <summary>
/// Create a Texture2D, defining the texture extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by current context, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format, uint levels)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
Technique technique;
if (Immutable)
technique = new ImmutableEmptyTechnique(this, TextureTarget, format, width, height, levels);
else
technique = new EmptyTechnique(this, TextureTarget, 0, format, width, height);
SetTechnique(technique);
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data, defining only the extents and the internal format.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for creating this Texture.
/// </param>
/// <param name="width">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture width.
/// </param>
/// <param name="height">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture height.
/// </param>
/// <param name="format">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the texture internal format.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is zero.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> equals to <see cref="PixelLayout.None"/>.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="ctx"/> is null and no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/> is greater than
/// the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by <paramref name="ctx"/>, and <paramref name="width"/> or <paramref name="height"/>
/// is not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="format"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(GraphicsContext ctx, uint width, uint height, PixelLayout format, uint levels)
{
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
CheckCurrentContext(ctx);
// Define technique
Create(width, height, format, levels);
// Actually create texture
Create(ctx);
}
#endregion
/// <summary>
/// Technique defining a texture based on image.
/// </summary>
class ImageTechnique : Technique
{
#region Constructors
/// <summary>
/// Construct a EmptyTechnique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="texture">
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </param>
/// <param name="target">
/// A <see cref="TextureTarget"/> that specify the texture target.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// The specific level of the target to define. Defaults to zero.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// The texture pixel format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="image">
/// The <see cref="Image"/> holding the texture data.
/// </param>
public ImageTechnique(Texture2D texture, TextureTarget target, PixelLayout pixelFormat, Image image) :
this(texture, target, 0, pixelFormat, image)
{
}
/// <summary>
/// Construct a EmptyTechnique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="texture">
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </param>
/// <param name="target">
/// A <see cref="TextureTarget"/> that specify the texture target.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// The specific level of the target to define. Defaults to zero.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// The texture pixel format.
/// </param>
/// <param name="image">
/// The <see cref="Image"/> holding the texture data.
/// </param>
public ImageTechnique(Texture2D texture, TextureTarget target, uint level, PixelLayout pixelFormat, Image image) :
base(texture)
{
if (image == null)
throw new ArgumentNullException("image");
_Texture2d = texture;
_Target = target;
_Level = level;
_PixelFormat = pixelFormat;
_Image = image;
_Image.IncRef(); // Referenced
}
#endregion
#region Technique Overrides
/// <summary>
/// The <see cref="Texture2D"/> affected by this Technique.
/// </summary>
private readonly Texture2D _Texture2d;
/// <summary>
/// The texture target to use for creating the empty texture.
/// </summary>
private readonly TextureTarget _Target;
/// <summary>
/// The specific level of the target to define. Defaults to zero.
/// </summary>
public readonly uint _Level;
/// <summary>
/// The internal pixel format of textel.
/// </summary>
private readonly PixelLayout _PixelFormat;
/// <summary>
/// The image that represents the texture data.
/// </summary>
private readonly Image _Image;
/// <summary>
/// Create the texture, using this technique.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for allocating resources.
/// </param>
public override void Create(GraphicsContext ctx)
{
PixelFormat format = _Image.PixelLayout.ToDataFormat();
PixelType type = _Image.PixelLayout.ToPixelType();
// Set pixel alignment
State.PixelAlignmentState.Unpack(_Image.Stride).Apply(ctx, null);
// Upload texture contents
Gl.TexSubImage2D(_Target, (int)_Level, 0, 0, (int)_Image.Width, (int)_Image.Height, format, type, _Image.ImageBuffer);
}
/// <summary>
/// Performs application-defined tasks associated with freeing, releasing, or resetting unmanaged resources.
/// </summary>
public override void Dispose()
{
if (_Image != null)
_Image.DecRef();
}
#endregion
}
#region Create(Image)
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data from a Image instance.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="image">
/// An <see cref="Image"/> holding the texture data.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentNullException">
/// Exception throw if <paramref name="image"/> is null.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> pixel data is not allocated (i.e. image not defined).
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> width or height are greater than the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by current context, and <paramref name="image"/> width or height are
/// not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> format (<see cref="Image.PixelFormat"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(Image image)
{
if (image == null)
throw new ArgumentNullException("image");
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
// Define storage, the uploads image
Create(image.Width, image.Height, image.PixelLayout);
SetTechnique(new ImageTechnique(this, TextureTarget, image.PixelLayout, image));
}
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D from a Image instance.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for creating this Texture. If it null, the current context
/// will be used.
/// </param>
/// <param name="image">
/// An <see cref="Image"/> holding the texture data.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentNullException">
/// Exception throw if <paramref name="image"/> is null.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> pixel data is not allocated (i.e. image not defined).
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="ctx"/> is null and no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> width or height are greater than the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by <paramref name="ctx"/> (or the current context if <paramref name="ctx"/> is
/// null), and <paramref name="image"/> width or height are not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> format (<see cref="Image.PixelFormat"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(GraphicsContext ctx, Image image)
{
// Define texture technique
Create(image);
// Define texture
Create(ctx);
}
#endregion
#if !MONODROID
#region Create(Bitmap)
public void Create(Bitmap bitmap)
{
if (bitmap == null)
throw new ArgumentNullException("bitmap");
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
// Create image from bitmap
Image image = CoreImagingImageCodecPlugin.LoadFromBitmap(bitmap, new ImageCodecCriteria());
// Bitmaps must be flipped
image.FlipVertically();
// Create with Image as usual
Create(image);
}
public void Create(GraphicsContext ctx, Bitmap bitmap)
{
// Define texture technique
Create(bitmap);
// Define texture
Create(ctx);
}
#endregion
#endif
#region Create(Image, level)
/// <summary>
/// Create Texture2D data from a Image instance.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="image">
/// An <see cref="Image"/> holding the texture data.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture level to create/update.
/// </param>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentNullException">
/// Exception throw if <paramref name="image"/> is null.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> pixel data is not allocated (i.e. image not defined).
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="InvalidOperationException">
/// Exception thrown if no context is current to the calling thread.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> width or height are greater than the maximum allowed for 2D textures.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if NPOT texture are not supported by current context, and <paramref name="image"/> width or height are
/// not a power-of-two value.
/// </exception>
/// <exception cref="ArgumentException">
/// Exception thrown if <paramref name="image"/> format (<see cref="Image.PixelFormat"/> is not a supported internal format.
/// </exception>
public void Create(Image image, uint level)
{
if (image == null)
throw new ArgumentNullException("image");
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
// Setup technique for creation
SetTechnique(new ImageTechnique(this, TextureTarget, level, image.PixelLayout, image));
}
#endregion
#endregion
#region Load
#if NET45
#region LoadAsync(string)
/// <summary>
/// Load asynchronously from a file.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="path">
/// A <see cref="String"/> that specify the path of the image to load.
/// </param>
public void LoadAsync(string path)
{
if (path == null)
throw new ArgumentNullException("path");
if (ImmutableFix)
throw new InvalidOperationException("immutable storage (see GL_ARB_texture_storage)");
CancelLoadAsync();
_LoadTaskCancel = new CancellationTokenSource();
_LoadTask = new Task(new Action(delegate () {
// Define texture using image
Create(ImageCodec.Instance.Load(path));
// No more cancellable
_LoadTaskCancel.Dispose();
_LoadTaskCancel = null;
// Dispose resources
_LoadTask = null;
}), _LoadTaskCancel.Token, TaskCreationOptions.LongRunning | TaskCreationOptions.PreferFairness);
// Execute load
_LoadTask.Start();
}
/// <summary>
/// Cancel a <see cref="LoadAsync"/> execution.
/// </summary>
public void CancelLoadAsync()
{
if (_LoadTaskCancel != null) {
_LoadTaskCancel.Cancel();
_LoadTaskCancel.Dispose();
_LoadTaskCancel = null;
}
_LoadTask = null;
}
#endregion
/// <summary>
/// Current load task.
/// </summary>
private Task _LoadTask;
/// <summary>
/// Cancellation token used for cancelling <see cref="_LoadTask"/>.
/// </summary>
private CancellationTokenSource _LoadTaskCancel;
#endif
#endregion
#if !MONODROID
#region Texture Download
/// <summary>
/// Download Texture2D data to an Image instance.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ctx">
/// A <see cref="GraphicsContext"/> used for downloading texture data.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pixelFormat">
/// A <see cref="PixelLayout"/> determining the pixel format of the downloaded data.
/// </param>
/// <param name="level">
/// A <see cref="UInt32"/> that specify the texture level.
/// </param>
/// <returns>
/// It return the <see cref="Image"/> holding the content of this texture.
/// </returns>
public Image Get(GraphicsContext ctx, PixelLayout pixelFormat, uint level)
{
return (Get(ctx, pixelFormat, TextureTarget, level));
}
#endregion
#endif
#region Texture Overrides
/// <summary>
/// Texture size, in pixels, of the level 0 of the texture.
/// </summary>
public override Vertex3ui BaseSize
{
get
{
Vertex3ui baseSize = base.BaseSize;
baseSize.z = 1;
return baseSize;
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Determine the derived Texture target.
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>
/// In the case a this Texture is defined by multiple targets (i.e. cube map textures), this property
/// shall returns always 0.
/// </remarks>
public override TextureTarget TextureTarget { get { return TextureTarget.Texture2d; } }
/// <summary>
/// Uniform sampler type for managing this texture.
/// </summary>
internal override int SamplerType
{
get {
if (PixelLayout.IsIntegerPixel()) {
if (PixelLayout.IsSignedIntegerPixel())
return (Gl.INT_SAMPLER_2D);
if (PixelLayout.IsUnsignedIntegerPixel())
return (Gl.UNSIGNED_INT_SAMPLER_2D);
throw new NotSupportedException(String.Format("integer pixel format {0} not correctly supported", PixelLayout));
} else
return (Gl.SAMPLER_2D);
}
}
#endregion
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Les Richards
Les Richards( date of birth unknown) was an Australian rules footballer who played with North Melbourne in the Victorian Football League( VFL).
Passage 2:
Terence Robinson
Terence D. Robinson( date of birth and death unknown) was a male wrestler who competed for England.
Passage 3:
Etan Boritzer
Etan Boritzer( born 1950) is an American writer of children ’s literature who is best known for his book" What is God?" first published in 1989. His best selling" What is?" illustrated children's book series on character education and difficult subjects for children is a popular teaching guide for parents, teachers and child- life professionals. Boritzer gained national critical acclaim after" What is God?" was published in 1989 although the book has caused controversy from religious fundamentalists for its universalist views. The other current books in the" What is?" series include What is Love?, What is Death?, What is Beautiful?, What is Funny?, What is Right?, What is Peace?, What is Money?, What is Dreaming?, What is a Friend?, What is True?, What is a Family?, What is a Feeling?" The series is now also translated into 15 languages. Boritzer was first published in 1963 at the age of 13 when he wrote an essay in his English class at Wade Junior High School in the Bronx, New York on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. His essay was included in a special anthology by New York City public school children compiled and published by the New York City Department of Education. Boritzer now lives in Venice, California and maintains his publishing office there also. He has helped numerous other authors to get published through" How to Get Your Book Published!" programs. Boritzer is also a yoga teacher who teaches regular classes locally and guest- teaches nationally. He is also recognized nationally as an erudite speaker on" The Teachings of the Buddha."
Passage 4:
Theodred II (Bishop of Elmham)
Theodred II was a medieval Bishop of Elmham. The date of Theodred's consecration unknown, but the date of his death was sometime between 995 and 997.
Passage 5:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 6:
Jerrold Tarog
Jerrold Viacrucis Tarog (born May 30, 1977) is a Filipino film director, screenwriter, producer, editor, and composer. He is best known for directing "Heneral Luna" (2015), "Bliss" (2017), (2018), and the upcoming film "Darna". His first feature film was the independently produced "Confessional" (2007), followed by "Mangatyanan" (2009) and "Sana Dati" (2013). He has also directed segments in three installments of the "Shake, Rattle & Roll" horror anthology series.
Passage 7:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 8:
Senior Year (film)
Senior Year is a 2010 Philippine coming-of-age film written, scored, edited and directed by Jerrold Tarog. It follows ten students of a private Catholic school in Manila, as they go through the many transitions that come with their final year in high school.
Passage 9:
Brian Saunders (weightlifter)
Brian Saunders( date of birth and death unknown) was a male weightlifter who competed for England.
Passage 10:
Pamela Jain
Pamela Jain is an Indian playback singer. Date of Birth:16th March.
Question: When was the director of film Senior Year (Film) born?
Answer: May 30, 1977
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
/*
* Copyright (c) 2008-2009, Motorola, Inc.
*
* All rights reserved.
*
* Redistribution and use in source and binary forms, with or without
* modification, are permitted provided that the following conditions are met:
*
* - Redistributions of source code must retain the above copyright notice,
* this list of conditions and the following disclaimer.
*
* - Redistributions in binary form must reproduce the above copyright notice,
* this list of conditions and the following disclaimer in the documentation
* and/or other materials provided with the distribution.
*
* - Neither the name of the Motorola, Inc. nor the names of its contributors
* may be used to endorse or promote products derived from this software
* without specific prior written permission.
*
* THIS SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED BY THE COPYRIGHT HOLDERS AND CONTRIBUTORS "AS IS"
* AND ANY EXPRESS OR IMPLIED WARRANTIES, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, THE
* IMPLIED WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY AND FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE
* ARE DISCLAIMED. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE COPYRIGHT HOLDER OR CONTRIBUTORS BE
* LIABLE FOR ANY DIRECT, INDIRECT, INCIDENTAL, SPECIAL, EXEMPLARY, OR
* CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, PROCUREMENT OF
* SUBSTITUTE GOODS OR SERVICES; LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR BUSINESS
* INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN
* CONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE)
* ARISING IN ANY WAY OUT OF THE USE OF THIS SOFTWARE, EVEN IF ADVISED OF THE
* POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
*/
package com.android.bluetooth.opp;
import java.io.BufferedOutputStream;
import java.io.File;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.io.InputStream;
import java.util.Arrays;
import android.content.ContentValues;
import android.content.Context;
import android.content.Intent;
import android.net.Uri;
import android.os.Handler;
import android.os.Message;
import android.os.PowerManager;
import android.os.PowerManager.WakeLock;
import android.util.Log;
import android.webkit.MimeTypeMap;
import javax.obex.HeaderSet;
import javax.obex.ObexTransport;
import javax.obex.Operation;
import javax.obex.ResponseCodes;
import javax.obex.ServerRequestHandler;
import javax.obex.ServerSession;
/**
* This class runs as an OBEX server
*/
public class BluetoothOppObexServerSession extends ServerRequestHandler implements
BluetoothOppObexSession {
private static final String TAG = "BtOppObexServer";
private static final boolean D = Constants.DEBUG;
private static final boolean V = Constants.VERBOSE;
private ObexTransport mTransport;
private Context mContext;
private Handler mCallback = null;
/* status when server is blocking for user/auto confirmation */
private boolean mServerBlocking = true;
/* the current transfer info */
private BluetoothOppShareInfo mInfo;
/* info id when we insert the record */
private int mLocalShareInfoId;
private int mAccepted = BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_PENDING;
private boolean mInterrupted = false;
private ServerSession mSession;
private long mTimestamp;
private BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo mFileInfo;
private WakeLock mWakeLock;
private WakeLock mPartialWakeLock;
boolean mTimeoutMsgSent = false;
public BluetoothOppObexServerSession(Context context, ObexTransport transport) {
mContext = context;
mTransport = transport;
PowerManager pm = (PowerManager)mContext.getSystemService(Context.POWER_SERVICE);
mWakeLock = pm.newWakeLock(PowerManager.FULL_WAKE_LOCK | PowerManager.ACQUIRE_CAUSES_WAKEUP
| PowerManager.ON_AFTER_RELEASE, TAG);
mPartialWakeLock = pm.newWakeLock(PowerManager.PARTIAL_WAKE_LOCK, TAG);
}
public void unblock() {
mServerBlocking = false;
}
/**
* Called when connection is accepted from remote, to retrieve the first
* Header then wait for user confirmation
*/
public void preStart() {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "acquire full WakeLock");
mWakeLock.acquire();
try {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Create ServerSession with transport " + mTransport.toString());
mSession = new ServerSession(mTransport, this, null);
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "Create server session error" + e);
}
}
/**
* Called from BluetoothOppTransfer to start the "Transfer"
*/
public void start(Handler handler, int numShares) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Start!");
mCallback = handler;
}
/**
* Called from BluetoothOppTransfer to cancel the "Transfer" Otherwise,
* server should end by itself.
*/
public void stop() {
/*
* TODO now we implement in a tough way, just close the socket.
* maybe need nice way
*/
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Stop!");
mInterrupted = true;
if (mSession != null) {
try {
mSession.close();
mTransport.close();
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "close mTransport error" + e);
}
}
mCallback = null;
mSession = null;
}
public void addShare(BluetoothOppShareInfo info) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "addShare for id " + info.mId);
mInfo = info;
mFileInfo = processShareInfo();
}
@Override
public int onPut(Operation op) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "onPut " + op.toString());
HeaderSet request;
String name, mimeType;
Long length;
int obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_OK;
/**
* For multiple objects, reject further objects after user deny the
* first one
*/
if (mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_DENIED) {
return ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_FORBIDDEN;
}
String destination;
if (mTransport instanceof BluetoothOppRfcommTransport) {
destination = ((BluetoothOppRfcommTransport)mTransport).getRemoteAddress();
} else {
destination = "FF:FF:FF:00:00:00";
}
boolean isWhitelisted = BluetoothOppManager.getInstance(mContext).
isWhitelisted(destination);
try {
boolean pre_reject = false;
request = op.getReceivedHeader();
if (V) Constants.logHeader(request);
name = (String)request.getHeader(HeaderSet.NAME);
length = (Long)request.getHeader(HeaderSet.LENGTH);
mimeType = (String)request.getHeader(HeaderSet.TYPE);
if (length == 0) {
if (D) Log.w(TAG, "length is 0, reject the transfer");
pre_reject = true;
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_LENGTH_REQUIRED;
}
if (name == null || name.equals("")) {
if (D) Log.w(TAG, "name is null or empty, reject the transfer");
pre_reject = true;
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_BAD_REQUEST;
}
if (!pre_reject) {
/* first we look for Mimetype in Android map */
String extension, type;
int dotIndex = name.lastIndexOf(".");
if (dotIndex < 0 && mimeType == null) {
if (D) Log.w(TAG, "There is no file extension or mime type," +
"reject the transfer");
pre_reject = true;
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_BAD_REQUEST;
} else {
extension = name.substring(dotIndex + 1).toLowerCase();
MimeTypeMap map = MimeTypeMap.getSingleton();
type = map.getMimeTypeFromExtension(extension);
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "Mimetype guessed from extension " + extension + " is " + type);
if (type != null) {
mimeType = type;
} else {
if (mimeType == null) {
if (D) Log.w(TAG, "Can't get mimetype, reject the transfer");
pre_reject = true;
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_UNSUPPORTED_TYPE;
}
}
if (mimeType != null) {
mimeType = mimeType.toLowerCase();
}
}
}
// Reject policy: anything outside the "white list" plus unspecified
// MIME Types. Also reject everything in the "black list".
if (!pre_reject
&& (mimeType == null
|| (!isWhitelisted && !Constants.mimeTypeMatches(mimeType,
Constants.ACCEPTABLE_SHARE_INBOUND_TYPES))
|| Constants.mimeTypeMatches(mimeType,
Constants.UNACCEPTABLE_SHARE_INBOUND_TYPES))) {
if (D) Log.w(TAG, "mimeType is null or in unacceptable list, reject the transfer");
pre_reject = true;
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_UNSUPPORTED_TYPE;
}
if (pre_reject && obexResponse != ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_OK) {
// some bad implemented client won't send disconnect
return obexResponse;
}
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "get getReceivedHeaders error " + e);
return ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_BAD_REQUEST;
}
ContentValues values = new ContentValues();
values.put(BluetoothShare.FILENAME_HINT, name);
values.put(BluetoothShare.TOTAL_BYTES, length.intValue());
values.put(BluetoothShare.MIMETYPE, mimeType);
values.put(BluetoothShare.DESTINATION, destination);
values.put(BluetoothShare.DIRECTION, BluetoothShare.DIRECTION_INBOUND);
values.put(BluetoothShare.TIMESTAMP, mTimestamp);
boolean needConfirm = true;
/** It's not first put if !serverBlocking, so we auto accept it */
if (!mServerBlocking) {
values.put(BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION,
BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_AUTO_CONFIRMED);
needConfirm = false;
}
if (isWhitelisted) {
values.put(BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION,
BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_HANDOVER_CONFIRMED);
needConfirm = false;
}
Uri contentUri = mContext.getContentResolver().insert(BluetoothShare.CONTENT_URI, values);
mLocalShareInfoId = Integer.parseInt(contentUri.getPathSegments().get(1));
if (needConfirm) {
Intent in = new Intent(BluetoothShare.INCOMING_FILE_CONFIRMATION_REQUEST_ACTION);
in.setClassName(Constants.THIS_PACKAGE_NAME, BluetoothOppReceiver.class.getName());
mContext.sendBroadcast(in);
}
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "insert contentUri: " + contentUri);
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "mLocalShareInfoId = " + mLocalShareInfoId);
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "acquire partial WakeLock");
synchronized (this) {
if (mWakeLock.isHeld()) {
mPartialWakeLock.acquire();
mWakeLock.release();
}
mServerBlocking = true;
try {
while (mServerBlocking) {
wait(1000);
if (mCallback != null && !mTimeoutMsgSent) {
mCallback.sendMessageDelayed(mCallback
.obtainMessage(BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_CONNECT_TIMEOUT),
BluetoothOppObexSession.SESSION_TIMEOUT);
mTimeoutMsgSent = true;
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "MSG_CONNECT_TIMEOUT sent");
}
}
} catch (InterruptedException e) {
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "Interrupted in onPut blocking");
}
}
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Server unblocked ");
synchronized (this) {
if (mCallback != null && mTimeoutMsgSent) {
mCallback.removeMessages(BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_CONNECT_TIMEOUT);
}
}
/* we should have mInfo now */
/*
* TODO check if this mInfo match the one that we insert before server
* blocking? just to make sure no error happens
*/
if (mInfo.mId != mLocalShareInfoId) {
Log.e(TAG, "Unexpected error!");
}
mAccepted = mInfo.mConfirm;
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "after confirm: userAccepted=" + mAccepted);
int status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_SUCCESS;
if (mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_CONFIRMED
|| mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_AUTO_CONFIRMED
|| mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_HANDOVER_CONFIRMED) {
/* Confirm or auto-confirm */
if (mFileInfo.mFileName == null) {
status = mFileInfo.mStatus;
/* TODO need to check if this line is correct */
mInfo.mStatus = mFileInfo.mStatus;
Constants.updateShareStatus(mContext, mInfo.mId, status);
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_INTERNAL_ERROR;
}
if (mFileInfo.mFileName != null) {
ContentValues updateValues = new ContentValues();
contentUri = Uri.parse(BluetoothShare.CONTENT_URI + "/" + mInfo.mId);
updateValues.put(BluetoothShare._DATA, mFileInfo.mFileName);
updateValues.put(BluetoothShare.STATUS, BluetoothShare.STATUS_RUNNING);
mContext.getContentResolver().update(contentUri, updateValues, null, null);
status = receiveFile(mFileInfo, op);
/*
* TODO map status to obex response code
*/
if (status != BluetoothShare.STATUS_SUCCESS) {
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_INTERNAL_ERROR;
}
Constants.updateShareStatus(mContext, mInfo.mId, status);
}
if (status == BluetoothShare.STATUS_SUCCESS) {
Message msg = Message.obtain(mCallback, BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_SHARE_COMPLETE);
msg.obj = mInfo;
msg.sendToTarget();
} else {
if (mCallback != null) {
Message msg = Message.obtain(mCallback,
BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_SESSION_ERROR);
mInfo.mStatus = status;
msg.obj = mInfo;
msg.sendToTarget();
}
}
} else if (mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_DENIED
|| mAccepted == BluetoothShare.USER_CONFIRMATION_TIMEOUT) {
/* user actively deny the inbound transfer */
/*
* Note There is a question: what's next if user deny the first obj?
* Option 1 :continue prompt for next objects
* Option 2 :reject next objects and finish the session
* Now we take option 2:
*/
Log.i(TAG, "Rejected incoming request");
if (mFileInfo.mFileName != null) {
try {
mFileInfo.mOutputStream.close();
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "error close file stream");
}
new File(mFileInfo.mFileName).delete();
}
// set status as local cancel
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_CANCELED;
Constants.updateShareStatus(mContext, mInfo.mId, status);
obexResponse = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_FORBIDDEN;
Message msg = Message.obtain(mCallback);
msg.what = BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_SHARE_INTERRUPTED;
mInfo.mStatus = status;
msg.obj = mInfo;
msg.sendToTarget();
}
return obexResponse;
}
private int receiveFile(BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo fileInfo, Operation op) {
/*
* implement receive file
*/
int status = -1;
BufferedOutputStream bos = null;
InputStream is = null;
boolean error = false;
try {
is = op.openInputStream();
} catch (IOException e1) {
Log.e(TAG, "Error when openInputStream");
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_OBEX_DATA_ERROR;
error = true;
}
Uri contentUri = Uri.parse(BluetoothShare.CONTENT_URI + "/" + mInfo.mId);
if (!error) {
ContentValues updateValues = new ContentValues();
updateValues.put(BluetoothShare._DATA, fileInfo.mFileName);
mContext.getContentResolver().update(contentUri, updateValues, null, null);
}
int position = 0;
if (!error) {
bos = new BufferedOutputStream(fileInfo.mOutputStream, 0x10000);
}
if (!error) {
int outputBufferSize = op.getMaxPacketSize();
byte[] b = new byte[outputBufferSize];
int readLength = 0;
long timestamp = 0;
try {
while ((!mInterrupted) && (position != fileInfo.mLength)) {
if (V) timestamp = System.currentTimeMillis();
readLength = is.read(b);
if (readLength == -1) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Receive file reached stream end at position" + position);
break;
}
bos.write(b, 0, readLength);
position += readLength;
if (V) {
Log.v(TAG, "Receive file position = " + position + " readLength "
+ readLength + " bytes took "
+ (System.currentTimeMillis() - timestamp) + " ms");
}
ContentValues updateValues = new ContentValues();
updateValues.put(BluetoothShare.CURRENT_BYTES, position);
mContext.getContentResolver().update(contentUri, updateValues, null, null);
}
} catch (IOException e1) {
Log.e(TAG, "Error when receiving file");
/* OBEX Abort packet received from remote device */
if ("Abort Received".equals(e1.getMessage())) {
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_CANCELED;
} else {
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_OBEX_DATA_ERROR;
}
error = true;
}
}
if (mInterrupted) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "receiving file interrupted by user.");
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_CANCELED;
} else {
if (position == fileInfo.mLength) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Receiving file completed for " + fileInfo.mFileName);
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_SUCCESS;
} else {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "Reading file failed at " + position + " of " + fileInfo.mLength);
if (status == -1) {
status = BluetoothShare.STATUS_UNKNOWN_ERROR;
}
}
}
if (bos != null) {
try {
bos.close();
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "Error when closing stream after send");
}
}
return status;
}
private BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo processShareInfo() {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "processShareInfo() " + mInfo.mId);
BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo fileInfo = BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo.generateFileInfo(
mContext, mInfo.mId);
if (V) {
Log.v(TAG, "Generate BluetoothOppReceiveFileInfo:");
Log.v(TAG, "filename :" + fileInfo.mFileName);
Log.v(TAG, "length :" + fileInfo.mLength);
Log.v(TAG, "status :" + fileInfo.mStatus);
}
return fileInfo;
}
@Override
public int onConnect(HeaderSet request, HeaderSet reply) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "onConnect");
if (V) Constants.logHeader(request);
Long objectCount = null;
try {
byte[] uuid = (byte[])request.getHeader(HeaderSet.TARGET);
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "onConnect(): uuid =" + Arrays.toString(uuid));
if(uuid != null) {
return ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_NOT_ACCEPTABLE;
}
objectCount = (Long) request.getHeader(HeaderSet.COUNT);
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, e.toString());
return ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_INTERNAL_ERROR;
}
String destination;
if (mTransport instanceof BluetoothOppRfcommTransport) {
destination = ((BluetoothOppRfcommTransport)mTransport).getRemoteAddress();
} else {
destination = "FF:FF:FF:00:00:00";
}
boolean isHandover = BluetoothOppManager.getInstance(mContext).
isWhitelisted(destination);
if (isHandover) {
// Notify the handover requester file transfer has started
Intent intent = new Intent(Constants.ACTION_HANDOVER_STARTED);
if (objectCount != null) {
intent.putExtra(Constants.EXTRA_BT_OPP_OBJECT_COUNT, objectCount.intValue());
} else {
intent.putExtra(Constants.EXTRA_BT_OPP_OBJECT_COUNT,
Constants.COUNT_HEADER_UNAVAILABLE);
}
intent.putExtra(Constants.EXTRA_BT_OPP_ADDRESS, destination);
mContext.sendBroadcast(intent, Constants.HANDOVER_STATUS_PERMISSION);
}
mTimestamp = System.currentTimeMillis();
return ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_OK;
}
@Override
public void onDisconnect(HeaderSet req, HeaderSet resp) {
if (D) Log.d(TAG, "onDisconnect");
resp.responseCode = ResponseCodes.OBEX_HTTP_OK;
}
private synchronized void releaseWakeLocks() {
if (mWakeLock.isHeld()) {
mWakeLock.release();
}
if (mPartialWakeLock.isHeld()) {
mPartialWakeLock.release();
}
}
@Override
public void onClose() {
if (V) Log.v(TAG, "release WakeLock");
releaseWakeLocks();
/* onClose could happen even before start() where mCallback is set */
if (mCallback != null) {
Message msg = Message.obtain(mCallback);
msg.what = BluetoothOppObexSession.MSG_SESSION_COMPLETE;
msg.obj = mInfo;
msg.sendToTarget();
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to the Apache Software Foundation (ASF) under one or more
* contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file distributed with
* this work for additional information regarding copyright ownership.
* The ASF licenses this file to You under the Apache License, Version 2.0
* (the "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance with
* the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*/
namespace Apache.Ignite.Core.Tests.Services
{
using System;
using System.Collections;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Diagnostics.CodeAnalysis;
using System.IO;
using System.Linq;
using System.Runtime.Serialization.Formatters.Binary;
using System.Threading;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Binary;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Cluster;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Common;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Resource;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Services;
using NUnit.Framework;
/// <summary>
/// Services tests.
/// </summary>
public class ServicesTest
{
/** */
private const string SvcName = "Service1";
/** */
private const string CacheName = "cache1";
/** */
private const int AffKey = 25;
/** */
protected IIgnite Grid1;
/** */
protected IIgnite Grid2;
/** */
protected IIgnite Grid3;
/** */
protected IIgnite[] Grids;
[TestFixtureTearDown]
public void FixtureTearDown()
{
StopGrids();
}
/// <summary>
/// Executes before each test.
/// </summary>
[SetUp]
public void SetUp()
{
StartGrids();
}
/// <summary>
/// Executes after each test.
/// </summary>
[TearDown]
public void TearDown()
{
try
{
Services.CancelAll();
TestUtils.AssertHandleRegistryIsEmpty(1000, Grid1, Grid2, Grid3);
}
catch (Exception)
{
// Restart grids to cleanup
StopGrids();
throw;
}
finally
{
if (TestContext.CurrentContext.Test.Name.StartsWith("TestEventTypes"))
StopGrids(); // clean events for other tests
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeploy([Values(true, false)] bool binarizable)
{
var cfg = new ServiceConfiguration
{
Name = SvcName,
MaxPerNodeCount = 3,
TotalCount = 3,
NodeFilter = new NodeFilter {NodeId = Grid1.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id},
Service = binarizable ? new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable() : new TestIgniteServiceSerializable()
};
Services.Deploy(cfg);
CheckServiceStarted(Grid1, 3);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests several services deployment via DeployAll() method.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployAll([Values(true, false)] bool binarizable)
{
const int num = 10;
var cfgs = new List<ServiceConfiguration>();
for (var i = 0; i < num; i++)
{
cfgs.Add(new ServiceConfiguration
{
Name = MakeServiceName(i),
MaxPerNodeCount = 3,
TotalCount = 3,
NodeFilter = new NodeFilter {NodeId = Grid1.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id},
Service = binarizable ? new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable() : new TestIgniteServiceSerializable()
});
}
Services.DeployAll(cfgs);
for (var i = 0; i < num; i++)
{
CheckServiceStarted(Grid1, 3, MakeServiceName(i));
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests cluster singleton deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployClusterSingleton()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable();
Services.DeployClusterSingleton(SvcName, svc);
var svc0 = Services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
// Check that only one node has the service.
foreach (var grid in Grids)
{
if (grid.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id == svc0.NodeId)
CheckServiceStarted(grid);
else
Assert.IsNull(grid.GetServices().GetService<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(SvcName));
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests node singleton deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployNodeSingleton()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable();
Services.DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
Assert.AreEqual(1, Grid1.GetServices().GetServices<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName).Count);
Assert.AreEqual(1, Grid2.GetServices().GetServices<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName).Count);
Assert.AreEqual(0, Grid3.GetServices().GetServices<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName).Count);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests key affinity singleton deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployKeyAffinitySingleton()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable();
Services.DeployKeyAffinitySingleton(SvcName, svc, CacheName, AffKey);
var affNode = Grid1.GetAffinity(CacheName).MapKeyToNode(AffKey);
var prx = Services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
Assert.AreEqual(affNode.Id, prx.NodeId);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests key affinity singleton deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployKeyAffinitySingletonBinarizable()
{
var services = Services.WithKeepBinary();
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable();
var affKey = new BinarizableObject {Val = AffKey};
services.DeployKeyAffinitySingleton(SvcName, svc, CacheName, affKey);
var prx = services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
Assert.IsTrue(prx.Initialized);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests multiple deployment.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployMultiple()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable();
Services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, Grids.Length * 5, 5);
foreach (var grid in Grids.Where(x => !x.GetConfiguration().ClientMode))
CheckServiceStarted(grid, 5);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests cancellation.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestCancel()
{
for (var i = 0; i < 10; i++)
{
Services.DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName + i, new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable());
Assert.IsNotNull(Services.GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName + i));
}
Services.Cancel(SvcName + 0);
AssertNoService(SvcName + 0);
Services.Cancel(SvcName + 1);
AssertNoService(SvcName + 1);
for (var i = 2; i < 10; i++)
Assert.IsNotNull(Services.GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName + i));
Services.CancelAll();
for (var i = 0; i < 10; i++)
AssertNoService(SvcName + i);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests service proxy.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestGetServiceProxy([Values(true, false)] bool binarizable)
{
// Test proxy without a service
var ex = Assert.Throws<IgniteException>(()=> Services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName));
Assert.AreEqual("Failed to find deployed service: " + SvcName, ex.Message);
// Deploy to grid2 & grid3
var svc = binarizable
? new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable {TestProperty = 17}
: new TestIgniteServiceSerializable {TestProperty = 17};
Grid1.GetCluster().ForNodeIds(Grid2.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id, Grid1.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id)
.GetServices().DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Make sure there is no local instance on grid3
Assert.IsNull(Grid3.GetServices().GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName));
// Get proxy
var prx = Grid3.GetServices().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
// Check proxy properties
Assert.IsNotNull(prx);
Assert.AreEqual(prx.ToString(), svc.ToString());
Assert.AreEqual(17, prx.TestProperty);
Assert.IsTrue(prx.Initialized);
Assert.IsTrue(prx.Executed);
Assert.IsFalse(prx.Cancelled);
Assert.AreEqual(SvcName, prx.LastCallContextName);
// Check err method
Assert.Throws<ServiceInvocationException>(() => prx.ErrMethod(123));
// Check local scenario (proxy should not be created for local instance)
Assert.IsTrue(ReferenceEquals(Grid2.GetServices().GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName),
Grid2.GetServices().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName)));
// Check sticky = false: call multiple times, check that different nodes get invoked
var invokedIds = Enumerable.Range(1, 100).Select(x => prx.NodeId).Distinct().ToList();
Assert.AreEqual(2, invokedIds.Count);
// Check sticky = true: all calls should be to the same node
prx = Grid3.GetServices().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName, true);
invokedIds = Enumerable.Range(1, 100).Select(x => prx.NodeId).Distinct().ToList();
Assert.AreEqual(1, invokedIds.Count);
// Proxy does not work for cancelled service.
Services.CancelAll();
Assert.Throws<ServiceInvocationException>(() => { Assert.IsTrue(prx.Cancelled); });
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests dynamic service proxies.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestGetDynamicServiceProxy()
{
// Deploy to remotes.
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { TestProperty = 37 };
Grid1.GetCluster().ForRemotes().GetServices().DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Make sure there is no local instance on grid3
Assert.IsNull(Grid3.GetServices().GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName));
// Get proxy.
dynamic prx = Grid3.GetServices().GetDynamicServiceProxy(SvcName, false);
// Property getter.
Assert.AreEqual(37, prx.TestProperty);
Assert.IsTrue(prx.Initialized);
Assert.IsTrue(prx.Executed);
Assert.IsFalse(prx.Cancelled);
Assert.AreEqual(SvcName, prx.LastCallContextName);
// Property setter.
prx.TestProperty = 42;
Assert.AreEqual(42, prx.TestProperty);
// Method invoke.
Assert.AreEqual(prx.ToString(), svc.ToString());
Assert.AreEqual("baz", prx.Method("baz"));
// Non-existent member.
var ex = Assert.Throws<ServiceInvocationException>(() => prx.FooBar(1));
Assert.AreEqual(
string.Format("Failed to invoke proxy: there is no method 'FooBar' in type '{0}' with 1 arguments",
typeof(TestIgniteServiceSerializable)), (ex.InnerException ?? ex).Message);
// Exception in service.
ex = Assert.Throws<ServiceInvocationException>(() => prx.ErrMethod(123));
Assert.AreEqual("ExpectedException", (ex.InnerException ?? ex).Message.Substring(0, 17));
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests dynamic service proxies with local service instance.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestGetDynamicServiceProxyLocal()
{
// Deploy to all nodes.
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { TestProperty = 37 };
Grid1.GetServices().DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Make sure there is an instance on grid1.
var svcInst = Grid1.GetServices().GetService<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
Assert.IsNotNull(svcInst);
// Get dynamic proxy that simply wraps the service instance.
var prx = Grid1.GetServices().GetDynamicServiceProxy(SvcName);
Assert.AreSame(prx, svcInst);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the duck typing: proxy interface can be different from actual service interface,
/// only called method signature should be compatible.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDuckTyping([Values(true, false)] bool local)
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable {TestProperty = 33};
// Deploy locally or to the remote node
var nodeId = (local ? Grid1 : Grid2).GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id;
var cluster = Grid1.GetCluster().ForNodeIds(nodeId);
cluster.GetServices().DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Get proxy
var prx = Services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteServiceProxyInterface>(SvcName);
// NodeId signature is the same as in service
Assert.AreEqual(nodeId, prx.NodeId);
// Method signature is different from service signature (object -> object), but is compatible.
Assert.AreEqual(15, prx.Method(15));
// TestProperty is object in proxy and int in service, getter works..
Assert.AreEqual(33, prx.TestProperty);
// .. but setter does not
var ex = Assert.Throws<ServiceInvocationException>(() => { prx.TestProperty = new object(); });
Assert.IsInstanceOf<InvalidCastException>(ex.InnerException);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests service descriptors.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestServiceDescriptors()
{
Services.DeployKeyAffinitySingleton(SvcName, new TestIgniteServiceSerializable(), CacheName, 1);
var descriptors = Services.GetServiceDescriptors();
Assert.AreEqual(1, descriptors.Count);
var desc = descriptors.Single();
Assert.AreEqual(SvcName, desc.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(CacheName, desc.CacheName);
Assert.AreEqual(1, desc.AffinityKey);
Assert.AreEqual(1, desc.MaxPerNodeCount);
Assert.AreEqual(1, desc.TotalCount);
Assert.AreEqual(Grid1.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id, desc.OriginNodeId);
var top = desc.TopologySnapshot;
var prx = Services.GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
Assert.AreEqual(1, top.Count);
Assert.AreEqual(prx.NodeId, top.Keys.Single());
Assert.AreEqual(1, top.Values.Single());
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the client binary flag.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestWithKeepBinaryClient()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable();
// Deploy to grid2
Grid1.GetCluster().ForNodeIds(Grid2.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id).GetServices().WithKeepBinary()
.DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Get proxy
var prx = Services.WithKeepBinary().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
var obj = new BinarizableObject {Val = 11};
var res = (IBinaryObject) prx.Method(obj);
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Deserialize<BinarizableObject>().Val);
res = (IBinaryObject) prx.Method(Grid1.GetBinary().ToBinary<IBinaryObject>(obj));
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Deserialize<BinarizableObject>().Val);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the server binary flag.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestWithKeepBinaryServer()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable();
// Deploy to grid2
Grid1.GetCluster().ForNodeIds(Grid2.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id).GetServices().WithServerKeepBinary()
.DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Get proxy
var prx = Services.WithServerKeepBinary().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
var obj = new BinarizableObject { Val = 11 };
var res = (BinarizableObject) prx.Method(obj);
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Val);
res = (BinarizableObject)prx.Method(Grid1.GetBinary().ToBinary<IBinaryObject>(obj));
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Val);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests server and client binary flag.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestWithKeepBinaryBoth()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable();
// Deploy to grid2
Grid1.GetCluster().ForNodeIds(Grid2.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id).GetServices().WithKeepBinary().WithServerKeepBinary()
.DeployNodeSingleton(SvcName, svc);
// Get proxy
var prx = Services.WithKeepBinary().WithServerKeepBinary().GetServiceProxy<ITestIgniteService>(SvcName);
var obj = new BinarizableObject { Val = 11 };
var res = (IBinaryObject)prx.Method(obj);
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Deserialize<BinarizableObject>().Val);
res = (IBinaryObject)prx.Method(Grid1.GetBinary().ToBinary<IBinaryObject>(obj));
Assert.AreEqual(11, res.Deserialize<BinarizableObject>().Val);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in Initialize.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployMultipleException([Values(true, false)] bool keepBinary)
{
VerifyDeploymentException((services, svc) =>
services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, Grids.Length, 1), keepBinary);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in Initialize.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployException([Values(true, false)] bool keepBinary)
{
VerifyDeploymentException((services, svc) =>
services.Deploy(new ServiceConfiguration
{
Name = SvcName,
Service = svc,
TotalCount = Grids.Length,
MaxPerNodeCount = 1
}), keepBinary);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests ServiceDeploymentException result via DeployAll() method.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployAllException([Values(true, false)] bool binarizable)
{
const int num = 10;
const int firstFailedIdx = 1;
const int secondFailedIdx = 9;
var cfgs = new List<ServiceConfiguration>();
for (var i = 0; i < num; i++)
{
var throwInit = (i == firstFailedIdx || i == secondFailedIdx);
cfgs.Add(new ServiceConfiguration
{
Name = MakeServiceName(i),
MaxPerNodeCount = 2,
TotalCount = 2,
NodeFilter = new NodeFilter { NodeId = Grid1.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id },
Service = binarizable ? new TestIgniteServiceBinarizable { TestProperty = i, ThrowInit = throwInit }
: new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { TestProperty = i, ThrowInit = throwInit }
});
}
var deploymentException = Assert.Throws<ServiceDeploymentException>(() => Services.DeployAll(cfgs));
var failedCfgs = deploymentException.FailedConfigurations;
Assert.IsNotNull(failedCfgs);
Assert.AreEqual(2, failedCfgs.Count);
var firstFailedSvc = binarizable ? failedCfgs.ElementAt(0).Service as TestIgniteServiceBinarizable :
failedCfgs.ElementAt(0).Service as TestIgniteServiceSerializable;
var secondFailedSvc = binarizable ? failedCfgs.ElementAt(1).Service as TestIgniteServiceBinarizable :
failedCfgs.ElementAt(1).Service as TestIgniteServiceSerializable;
Assert.IsNotNull(firstFailedSvc);
Assert.IsNotNull(secondFailedSvc);
Assert.AreEqual(firstFailedIdx, firstFailedSvc.TestProperty);
Assert.AreEqual(secondFailedIdx, secondFailedSvc.TestProperty);
for (var i = 0; i < num; i++)
{
if (i != firstFailedIdx && i != secondFailedIdx)
{
CheckServiceStarted(Grid1, 2, MakeServiceName(i));
}
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests input errors for DeployAll() method.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeployAllInputErrors()
{
var nullException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentNullException>(() => Services.DeployAll(null));
Assert.IsTrue(nullException.Message.Contains("configurations"));
var argException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() => Services.DeployAll(new List<ServiceConfiguration>()));
Assert.IsTrue(argException.Message.Contains("empty collection"));
nullException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentNullException>(() => Services.DeployAll(new List<ServiceConfiguration> { null }));
Assert.IsTrue(nullException.Message.Contains("configurations[0]"));
nullException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentNullException>(() => Services.DeployAll(new List<ServiceConfiguration>
{
new ServiceConfiguration { Name = SvcName }
}));
Assert.IsTrue(nullException.Message.Contains("configurations[0].Service"));
argException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() => Services.DeployAll(new List<ServiceConfiguration>
{
new ServiceConfiguration { Service = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable() }
}));
Assert.IsTrue(argException.Message.Contains("configurations[0].Name"));
argException = Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() => Services.DeployAll(new List<ServiceConfiguration>
{
new ServiceConfiguration { Service = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable(), Name = string.Empty }
}));
Assert.IsTrue(argException.Message.Contains("configurations[0].Name"));
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests [Serializable] usage of ServiceDeploymentException.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDeploymentExceptionSerializable()
{
var cfg = new ServiceConfiguration
{
Name = "foo",
CacheName = "cacheName",
AffinityKey = 1,
MaxPerNodeCount = 2,
Service = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable(),
NodeFilter = new NodeFilter(),
TotalCount = 3
};
var ex = new ServiceDeploymentException("msg", new Exception("in"), new[] {cfg});
var formatter = new BinaryFormatter();
var stream = new MemoryStream();
formatter.Serialize(stream, ex);
stream.Seek(0, SeekOrigin.Begin);
var res = (ServiceDeploymentException) formatter.Deserialize(stream);
Assert.AreEqual(ex.Message, res.Message);
Assert.IsNotNull(res.InnerException);
Assert.AreEqual("in", res.InnerException.Message);
var resCfg = res.FailedConfigurations.Single();
Assert.AreEqual(cfg.Name, resCfg.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(cfg.CacheName, resCfg.CacheName);
Assert.AreEqual(cfg.AffinityKey, resCfg.AffinityKey);
Assert.AreEqual(cfg.MaxPerNodeCount, resCfg.MaxPerNodeCount);
Assert.AreEqual(cfg.TotalCount, resCfg.TotalCount);
Assert.IsInstanceOf<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(cfg.Service);
Assert.IsInstanceOf<NodeFilter>(cfg.NodeFilter);
}
/// <summary>
/// Verifies the deployment exception.
/// </summary>
private void VerifyDeploymentException(Action<IServices, IService> deploy, bool keepBinary)
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { ThrowInit = true };
var services = Services;
if (keepBinary)
{
services = services.WithKeepBinary();
}
var deploymentException = Assert.Throws<ServiceDeploymentException>(() => deploy(services, svc));
var text = keepBinary
? "Service deployment failed with a binary error. Examine BinaryCause for details."
: "Service deployment failed with an exception. Examine InnerException for details.";
Assert.AreEqual(text, deploymentException.Message);
Exception ex;
if (keepBinary)
{
Assert.IsNull(deploymentException.InnerException);
ex = deploymentException.BinaryCause.Deserialize<Exception>();
}
else
{
Assert.IsNull(deploymentException.BinaryCause);
ex = deploymentException.InnerException;
}
Assert.IsNotNull(ex);
Assert.AreEqual("Expected exception", ex.Message);
Assert.IsTrue(ex.StackTrace.Trim().StartsWith(
"at Apache.Ignite.Core.Tests.Services.ServicesTest.TestIgniteServiceSerializable.Init"));
var failedCfgs = deploymentException.FailedConfigurations;
Assert.IsNotNull(failedCfgs);
Assert.AreEqual(1, failedCfgs.Count);
var svc0 = Services.GetService<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(SvcName);
Assert.IsNull(svc0);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in Execute.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestExecuteException()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { ThrowExecute = true };
Services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, Grids.Length, 1);
var svc0 = Services.GetService<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(SvcName);
// Execution failed, but service exists.
Assert.IsNotNull(svc0);
Assert.IsFalse(svc0.Executed);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in Cancel.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestCancelException()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceSerializable { ThrowCancel = true };
Services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, 2, 1);
CheckServiceStarted(Grid1);
Services.CancelAll();
// Cancellation failed, but service is removed.
AssertNoService();
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in binarizable implementation.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestMarshalExceptionOnRead()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizableErr();
var ex = Assert.Throws<ServiceDeploymentException>(() =>
Services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, Grids.Length, 1));
Assert.IsNotNull(ex.InnerException);
Assert.AreEqual("Expected exception", ex.InnerException.Message);
var svc0 = Services.GetService<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(SvcName);
Assert.IsNull(svc0);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests exception in binarizable implementation.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestMarshalExceptionOnWrite()
{
var svc = new TestIgniteServiceBinarizableErr {ThrowOnWrite = true};
var ex = Assert.Throws<Exception>(() => Services.DeployMultiple(SvcName, svc, Grids.Length, 1));
Assert.AreEqual("Expected exception", ex.Message);
var svc0 = Services.GetService<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(SvcName);
Assert.IsNull(svc0);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests Java service invocation.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestCallJavaService()
{
// Deploy Java service
const string javaSvcName = "javaService";
DeployJavaService(javaSvcName);
// Verify decriptor
var descriptor = Services.GetServiceDescriptors().Single(x => x.Name == javaSvcName);
Assert.AreEqual(javaSvcName, descriptor.Name);
var svc = Services.GetServiceProxy<IJavaService>(javaSvcName, false);
var binSvc = Services.WithKeepBinary().WithServerKeepBinary()
.GetServiceProxy<IJavaService>(javaSvcName, false);
// Basics
Assert.IsTrue(svc.isInitialized());
Assert.IsTrue(TestUtils.WaitForCondition(() => svc.isExecuted(), 500));
Assert.IsFalse(svc.isCancelled());
// Primitives
Assert.AreEqual(4, svc.test((byte) 3));
Assert.AreEqual(5, svc.test((short) 4));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.test(5));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.test((long) 5));
Assert.AreEqual(3.8f, svc.test(2.3f));
Assert.AreEqual(5.8, svc.test(3.3));
Assert.IsFalse(svc.test(true));
Assert.AreEqual('b', svc.test('a'));
Assert.AreEqual("Foo!", svc.test("Foo"));
// Nullables (Java wrapper types)
Assert.AreEqual(4, svc.testWrapper(3));
Assert.AreEqual(5, svc.testWrapper((short?) 4));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.testWrapper((int?)5));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.testWrapper((long?) 5));
Assert.AreEqual(3.8f, svc.testWrapper(2.3f));
Assert.AreEqual(5.8, svc.testWrapper(3.3));
Assert.AreEqual(false, svc.testWrapper(true));
Assert.AreEqual('b', svc.testWrapper('a'));
// Arrays
Assert.AreEqual(new byte[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new byte[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new short[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new short[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new long[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new long[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new float[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new float[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new double[] {2, 3, 4}, svc.testArray(new double[] {1, 2, 3}));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {"a1", "b1"}, svc.testArray(new [] {"a", "b"}));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {'c', 'd'}, svc.testArray(new[] {'b', 'c'}));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {false, true, false}, svc.testArray(new[] {true, false, true}));
// Nulls
Assert.AreEqual(9, svc.testNull(8));
Assert.IsNull(svc.testNull(null));
// params / varargs
Assert.AreEqual(5, svc.testParams(1, 2, 3, 4, "5"));
Assert.AreEqual(0, svc.testParams());
// Overloads
Assert.AreEqual(3, svc.test(2, "1"));
Assert.AreEqual(3, svc.test("1", 2));
// Binary
Assert.AreEqual(7, svc.testBinarizable(new PlatformComputeBinarizable {Field = 6}).Field);
// Binary collections
var arr = new [] {10, 11, 12}.Select(x => new PlatformComputeBinarizable {Field = x}).ToArray<object>();
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {11, 12, 13}, svc.testBinarizableCollection(arr)
.OfType<PlatformComputeBinarizable>().Select(x => x.Field).ToArray());
Assert.AreEqual(new[] {11, 12, 13},
svc.testBinarizableArray(arr).OfType<PlatformComputeBinarizable>().Select(x => x.Field).ToArray());
// Binary object
Assert.AreEqual(15,
binSvc.testBinaryObject(
Grid1.GetBinary().ToBinary<IBinaryObject>(new PlatformComputeBinarizable {Field = 6}))
.GetField<int>("Field"));
Services.Cancel(javaSvcName);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests Java service invocation with dynamic proxy.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestCallJavaServiceDynamicProxy()
{
const string javaSvcName = "javaService";
DeployJavaService(javaSvcName);
var svc = Grid1.GetServices().GetDynamicServiceProxy(javaSvcName, true);
// Basics
Assert.IsTrue(svc.isInitialized());
Assert.IsTrue(TestUtils.WaitForCondition(() => svc.isExecuted(), 500));
Assert.IsFalse(svc.isCancelled());
// Primitives
Assert.AreEqual(4, svc.test((byte)3));
Assert.AreEqual(5, svc.test((short)4));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.test(5));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.test((long)5));
Assert.AreEqual(3.8f, svc.test(2.3f));
Assert.AreEqual(5.8, svc.test(3.3));
Assert.IsFalse(svc.test(true));
Assert.AreEqual('b', svc.test('a'));
Assert.AreEqual("Foo!", svc.test("Foo"));
// Nullables (Java wrapper types)
Assert.AreEqual(4, svc.testWrapper(3));
Assert.AreEqual(5, svc.testWrapper((short?)4));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.testWrapper((int?)5));
Assert.AreEqual(6, svc.testWrapper((long?)5));
Assert.AreEqual(3.8f, svc.testWrapper(2.3f));
Assert.AreEqual(5.8, svc.testWrapper(3.3));
Assert.AreEqual(false, svc.testWrapper(true));
Assert.AreEqual('b', svc.testWrapper('a'));
// Arrays
Assert.AreEqual(new byte[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new byte[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new short[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new short[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new long[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new long[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new float[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new float[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new double[] { 2, 3, 4 }, svc.testArray(new double[] { 1, 2, 3 }));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] { "a1", "b1" }, svc.testArray(new[] { "a", "b" }));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] { 'c', 'd' }, svc.testArray(new[] { 'b', 'c' }));
Assert.AreEqual(new[] { false, true, false }, svc.testArray(new[] { true, false, true }));
// Nulls
Assert.AreEqual(9, svc.testNull(8));
Assert.IsNull(svc.testNull(null));
// Overloads
Assert.AreEqual(3, svc.test(2, "1"));
Assert.AreEqual(3, svc.test("1", 2));
// Binary
Assert.AreEqual(7, svc.testBinarizable(new PlatformComputeBinarizable { Field = 6 }).Field);
// Binary object
var binSvc = Services.WithKeepBinary().WithServerKeepBinary().GetDynamicServiceProxy(javaSvcName);
Assert.AreEqual(15,
binSvc.testBinaryObject(
Grid1.GetBinary().ToBinary<IBinaryObject>(new PlatformComputeBinarizable { Field = 6 }))
.GetField<int>("Field"));
}
/// <summary>
/// Deploys the java service.
/// </summary>
private void DeployJavaService(string javaSvcName)
{
Grid1.GetCompute()
.ExecuteJavaTask<object>("org.apache.ignite.platform.PlatformDeployServiceTask", javaSvcName);
TestUtils.WaitForCondition(() => Services.GetServiceDescriptors().Any(x => x.Name == javaSvcName), 1000);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the footer setting.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestFooterSetting()
{
foreach (var grid in Grids)
{
Assert.AreEqual(CompactFooter, ((Impl.Ignite) grid).Marshaller.CompactFooter);
Assert.AreEqual(CompactFooter, grid.GetConfiguration().BinaryConfiguration.CompactFooter);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Starts the grids.
/// </summary>
private void StartGrids()
{
if (Grid1 != null)
return;
Grid1 = Ignition.Start(GetConfiguration("Config\\Compute\\compute-grid1.xml"));
Grid2 = Ignition.Start(GetConfiguration("Config\\Compute\\compute-grid2.xml"));
Grid3 = Ignition.Start(GetConfiguration("Config\\Compute\\compute-grid3.xml"));
Grids = new[] { Grid1, Grid2, Grid3 };
}
/// <summary>
/// Stops the grids.
/// </summary>
private void StopGrids()
{
Grid1 = Grid2 = Grid3 = null;
Grids = null;
Ignition.StopAll(true);
}
/// <summary>
/// Checks that service has started on specified grid.
/// </summary>
private static void CheckServiceStarted(IIgnite grid, int count = 1, string svcName = SvcName)
{
Func<ICollection<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>> getServices = () =>
grid.GetServices().GetServices<TestIgniteServiceSerializable>(svcName);
Assert.IsTrue(TestUtils.WaitForCondition(() => count == getServices().Count, 5000));
var svc = getServices().First();
Assert.IsNotNull(svc);
Assert.IsTrue(svc.Initialized);
Thread.Sleep(100); // Service runs in a separate thread, wait for it to execute.
Assert.IsTrue(svc.Executed);
Assert.IsFalse(svc.Cancelled);
Assert.AreEqual(grid.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id, svc.NodeId);
}
/// <summary>
/// Gets the Ignite configuration.
/// </summary>
private IgniteConfiguration GetConfiguration(string springConfigUrl)
{
#if !NETCOREAPP2_0
if (!CompactFooter)
{
springConfigUrl = Compute.ComputeApiTestFullFooter.ReplaceFooterSetting(springConfigUrl);
}
#endif
return new IgniteConfiguration(TestUtils.GetTestConfiguration())
{
SpringConfigUrl = springConfigUrl,
BinaryConfiguration = new BinaryConfiguration(
typeof (TestIgniteServiceBinarizable),
typeof (TestIgniteServiceBinarizableErr),
typeof (PlatformComputeBinarizable),
typeof (BinarizableObject))
{
NameMapper = BinaryBasicNameMapper.SimpleNameInstance
}
};
}
/// <summary>
/// Asserts that there is no service on any grid with given name.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="name">The name.</param>
private void AssertNoService(string name = SvcName)
{
foreach (var grid in Grids)
Assert.IsTrue(
// ReSharper disable once AccessToForEachVariableInClosure
TestUtils.WaitForCondition(() => grid.GetServices()
.GetService<ITestIgniteService>(name) == null, 5000));
}
/// <summary>
/// Gets the services.
/// </summary>
protected virtual IServices Services
{
get { return Grid1.GetServices(); }
}
/// <summary>
/// Gets a value indicating whether compact footers should be used.
/// </summary>
protected virtual bool CompactFooter { get { return true; } }
/// <summary>
/// Makes Service1-{i} names for services.
/// </summary>
private static string MakeServiceName(int i)
{
// Please note that CheckContext() validates Name.StartsWith(SvcName).
return string.Format("{0}-{1}", SvcName, i);
}
/// <summary>
/// Test service interface for proxying.
/// </summary>
public interface ITestIgniteService
{
int TestProperty { get; set; }
/** */
bool Initialized { get; }
/** */
bool Cancelled { get; }
/** */
bool Executed { get; }
/** */
Guid NodeId { get; }
/** */
string LastCallContextName { get; }
/** */
object Method(object arg);
/** */
object ErrMethod(object arg);
}
/// <summary>
/// Test service interface for proxy usage.
/// Has some of the original interface members with different signatures.
/// </summary>
public interface ITestIgniteServiceProxyInterface
{
/** */
Guid NodeId { get; }
/** */
object TestProperty { get; set; }
/** */
int Method(int arg);
}
#pragma warning disable 649
/// <summary>
/// Test serializable service.
/// </summary>
[Serializable]
private class TestIgniteServiceSerializable : IService, ITestIgniteService
{
/** */
[InstanceResource]
private IIgnite _grid;
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public int TestProperty { get; set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public bool Initialized { get; private set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public bool Cancelled { get; private set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public bool Executed { get; private set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public Guid NodeId
{
// ReSharper disable once InconsistentlySynchronizedField
get { return _grid.GetCluster().GetLocalNode().Id; }
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public string LastCallContextName { get; private set; }
/** */
public bool ThrowInit { get; set; }
/** */
public bool ThrowExecute { get; set; }
/** */
public bool ThrowCancel { get; set; }
/** */
public object Method(object arg)
{
return arg;
}
/** */
public object ErrMethod(object arg)
{
throw new ArgumentNullException("arg", "ExpectedException");
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void Init(IServiceContext context)
{
lock (this)
{
if (ThrowInit)
throw new Exception("Expected exception");
CheckContext(context);
Assert.IsFalse(context.IsCancelled);
Initialized = true;
}
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void Execute(IServiceContext context)
{
lock (this)
{
if (ThrowExecute)
throw new Exception("Expected exception");
CheckContext(context);
Assert.IsFalse(context.IsCancelled);
Assert.IsTrue(Initialized);
Assert.IsFalse(Cancelled);
Executed = true;
}
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void Cancel(IServiceContext context)
{
lock (this)
{
if (ThrowCancel)
throw new Exception("Expected exception");
CheckContext(context);
Assert.IsTrue(context.IsCancelled);
Cancelled = true;
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Checks the service context.
/// </summary>
private void CheckContext(IServiceContext context)
{
LastCallContextName = context.Name;
if (context.AffinityKey != null && !(context.AffinityKey is int))
{
var binaryObj = context.AffinityKey as IBinaryObject;
var key = binaryObj != null
? binaryObj.Deserialize<BinarizableObject>()
: (BinarizableObject) context.AffinityKey;
Assert.AreEqual(AffKey, key.Val);
}
Assert.IsNotNull(_grid);
Assert.IsTrue(context.Name.StartsWith(SvcName));
Assert.AreNotEqual(Guid.Empty, context.ExecutionId);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Test binary service.
/// </summary>
private class TestIgniteServiceBinarizable : TestIgniteServiceSerializable, IBinarizable
{
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void WriteBinary(IBinaryWriter writer)
{
writer.WriteInt("TestProp", TestProperty);
writer.WriteBoolean("ThrowInit", ThrowInit);
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void ReadBinary(IBinaryReader reader)
{
ThrowInit = reader.ReadBoolean("ThrowInit");
TestProperty = reader.ReadInt("TestProp");
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Test binary service with exceptions in marshalling.
/// </summary>
private class TestIgniteServiceBinarizableErr : TestIgniteServiceSerializable, IBinarizable
{
/** */
public bool ThrowOnWrite { get; set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void WriteBinary(IBinaryWriter writer)
{
writer.WriteInt("TestProp", TestProperty);
if (ThrowOnWrite)
throw new Exception("Expected exception");
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void ReadBinary(IBinaryReader reader)
{
TestProperty = reader.ReadInt("TestProp");
throw new Exception("Expected exception");
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Test node filter.
/// </summary>
[Serializable]
private class NodeFilter : IClusterNodeFilter
{
/// <summary>
/// Gets or sets the node identifier.
/// </summary>
public Guid NodeId { get; set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public bool Invoke(IClusterNode node)
{
return node.Id == NodeId;
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Binary object.
/// </summary>
private class BinarizableObject
{
public int Val { get; set; }
}
/// <summary>
/// Java service proxy interface.
/// </summary>
[SuppressMessage("ReSharper", "InconsistentNaming")]
public interface IJavaService
{
/** */
bool isCancelled();
/** */
bool isInitialized();
/** */
bool isExecuted();
/** */
byte test(byte x);
/** */
short test(short x);
/** */
int test(int x);
/** */
long test(long x);
/** */
float test(float x);
/** */
double test(double x);
/** */
char test(char x);
/** */
string test(string x);
/** */
bool test(bool x);
/** */
byte? testWrapper(byte? x);
/** */
short? testWrapper(short? x);
/** */
int? testWrapper(int? x);
/** */
long? testWrapper(long? x);
/** */
float? testWrapper(float? x);
/** */
double? testWrapper(double? x);
/** */
char? testWrapper(char? x);
/** */
bool? testWrapper(bool? x);
/** */
byte[] testArray(byte[] x);
/** */
short[] testArray(short[] x);
/** */
int[] testArray(int[] x);
/** */
long[] testArray(long[] x);
/** */
float[] testArray(float[] x);
/** */
double[] testArray(double[] x);
/** */
char[] testArray(char[] x);
/** */
string[] testArray(string[] x);
/** */
bool[] testArray(bool[] x);
/** */
int test(int x, string y);
/** */
int test(string x, int y);
/** */
int? testNull(int? x);
/** */
int testParams(params object[] args);
/** */
PlatformComputeBinarizable testBinarizable(PlatformComputeBinarizable x);
/** */
object[] testBinarizableArray(object[] x);
/** */
ICollection testBinarizableCollection(ICollection x);
/** */
IBinaryObject testBinaryObject(IBinaryObject x);
}
/// <summary>
/// Interop class.
/// </summary>
public class PlatformComputeBinarizable
{
/** */
public int Field { get; set; }
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Giulio Caccini
Giulio Romolo Caccini (also Giulio Romano) (8 October 1551 – buried 10 December 1618), was an Italian composer, teacher, singer, instrumentalist and writer of the very late Renaissance and early Baroque eras. He was one of the founders of the genre of opera, and one of the most influential creators of the new Baroque style. He was also the father of the composer Francesca Caccini and the singer Settimia Caccini.
Passage 2:
Hank Mobley Sextet
Hank Mobley with Donald Byrd and Lee Morgan (also known as Hank Mobley Sextet) is an album by jazz saxophonist Hank Mobley released on the Blue Note label in 1957 as BLP 1540. It was recorded on November 25, 1956 and features Mobley, Donald Byrd, Lee Morgan, Horace Silver, Paul Chambers and Charlie Persip.
Passage 3:
Peter Appleyard
Peter Appleyard, (26 August 1928 – 17 July 2013) was a British–Canadian jazz vibraphonist, percussionist, and composer. He spent most of his life living and performing in the city of Toronto where for many years he was a popular performer in the city's nightclubs and hotels. He also played and recorded with many of the city's orchestras and been featured on Canadian television and radio programs. In the early 1970s he drew wide acclaim for his performances with Benny Goodman's jazz sextet with which he toured internationally. In 1992, he was made an Officer of the Order of Canada in recognition of his being an "internationally renowned vibraphonist [who] has represented the Canadian jazz community across North America, Europe, the Middle East and Australia".
Passage 4:
Folk Songs (Berio)
Folk Songs is a song cycle by the Italian composer Luciano Berio composed in 1964. It consists of arrangements of folk music from various countries and other songs, forming "a tribute to the extraordinary artistry" of the American singer Cathy Berberian, a specialist in Berio's music. It is scored for voice, flute (doubling on piccolo), clarinet, harp, viola, cello, and percussion (two players). The composer arranged it for a large orchestra in 1973.
Passage 5:
The Cave (opera)
The Cave is a multimedia opera in three acts by Steve Reich to an English libretto by his wife Beryl Korot. It was first performed in 1993 in Vienna by the Steve Reich Ensemble, conducted by Paul Hillier. The title "The Cave" refers to The Cave of the Patriarchs in Hebron, where Abraham and Sarah (and several other major religious figures) are buried.
Passage 6:
Jorge Oñate
Jorge Oñate (born March 31, 1949), in the town of Los Robles La Paz, near the city of Valledupar in northern Colombia, is one of the most renowned singers and composers of the vallenato musical genre. As of 2004 and since the beginning of his career in 1968 he has achieved 25 gold discs, 7 platinum discs and 6 double platinum for his sales, among other numerous musical accomplishments. He has also successfully entered politics as councilor of his hometown, while deputising for Alfredo Cuello Dávila, representing the department of Cesar.
Passage 7:
Method Music
Method Music is a double-album of electronic music by the English composer and mathematician Lawrence Ball created using the compositional system that would become The Lifehouse Method, an online-based compositional project conceived by Pete Townshend of The Who to compose customized algorithmically-generated musical portraits. The album's music evolved from tests of the portraiture system.
Passage 8:
Black Orchids
Black Orchids is a Nero Wolfe double mystery by Rex Stout published in 1942 by Farrar & Rinehart, Inc. Stout's first short story collection, the volume is composed of two novellas that had appeared in abridged form in "The American Magazine":
Passage 9:
Native Sense - The New Duets
Native Sense - The New Duets is an album by vibraphonist Gary Burton and pianist Chick Corea released in 1997 on the Concord label. The album is the fourth studio recording by the duo following "Crystal Silence" (1972), "Duet" (1978) and "Lyric Suite for Sextet" (1982). The album peaked number 25 in the "Billboard" Top Jazz Albums chart.
Passage 10:
HR 2096
HR 2096, also known as HD 40325 is a double star in the constellation Auriga. It is composed of two ageing orange giants of spectral types K0III and K2III. It is not a member of any known moving group of stars.
Passage 11:
Double Deal
Double Deal is a 1939 American drama with an all-black cast (a genre at the time called "race films"), written by Arthur Hoerl, produced by George Randol, directed by Arthur Dreifuss and released on the independent states-rights market by Sack Amusement Enterprises and Astor Pictures Corp.
Passage 12:
Take Me Out to the Ball Game
``Take Me Out to the Ball Game ''Song by Edward Meeker Language English Genre Tin Pan Alley Length 1: 14 Songwriter (s) Composer: Albert Von Tilzer Lyricist: Jack Norworth
Passage 13:
Mitochondrion
A mitochondrion contains outer and inner membranes composed of phospholipid bilayers and proteins. The two membranes have different properties. Because of this double - membraned organization, there are five distinct parts to a mitochondrion. They are:
Passage 14:
Michael Benjamin Nigrin
Michael Benjamin Nigrin is a musician and music composer at large who has scored the music for numerous independent and experimental films and is a double bassist with the Grammy Award winning Buffalo Philharmonic Orchestra, a not-for-profit, symphonic orchestra based in Buffalo, New York.
Passage 15:
Chorus (Eberhard Weber album)
Chorus is an album by German double bassist and composer Eberhard Weber featuring Jan Garbarek and Ralf-R. Hübner recorded in 1984 and released on the ECM label.
Passage 16:
Fluid Rustle
Fluid Rustle is an album by German double bassist and composer Eberhard Weber recorded in 1979 and released on the ECM label.
Passage 17:
Double Sextet
Double Sextet is a composition by Steve Reich scored for two sextets of flute, clarinet, violin, cello, vibraphone and piano. It won the 2009 Pulitzer Prize for Music, the first for the composer. With funds from the Carnegie Hall Corporation, The Abe Fortas Memorial Fund of the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts, Liverpool Culture Company – European Capital of Culture 2008, The Modlin Center for the Arts at the University of Richmond, Orange County Performing Arts Center, The University of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music – Music 08 Festival the piece was commissioned in 2007 by Eighth Blackbird who performed its premiere in 2008, at the University of Richmond in Virginia.. The Liverpool Culture Company (Gordon Ross, music programme manager) was the only non-US commissioning organisation and hosted the rest-of-the-world premiere at St. George's Concert Room, Liverpool on the 21st of November 2008 as part of Liverpool's European Capital of Culture celebrations.
Passage 18:
Quintet/Sextet
Miles Davis and Milt Jackson Quintet/Sextet, also known as Quintet/Sextet and sometimes also as Miles Davis and Milt Jackson and reissued as Miles Davis: Odyssey!, is an album which compiles recordings made for Prestige Records on August 5, 1955 by Miles Davis. Credited to "Miles Davis and Milt Jackson", this was an "all-star" session, and did not feature any of the members of Davis's working group of the time (Sonny Rollins, Red Garland, Paul Chambers and Philly Joe Jones). Jackie McLean only plays on his own compositions.
Passage 19:
Miguel Martínez Domínguez
Miguel Martínez Domínguez (September 29, 1921 in Celaya, Guanajuato – December 6, 2014 in Mexico City) was a Mexican musician, composer and arranger of mariachi, pioneer in the use of trumpet in this genre.
Passage 20:
Yellow Fields
Yellow Fields is an album by German double bassist and composer Eberhard Weber recorded in 1975 and released on the ECM label.
Question: What genre of music does the person who composed Double Sextet make?
Answer: opera
|
{
"task_name": "MuSiQue"
}
|
Passage 1:
Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site
Ulysses S. Grant National Historic Site is a United States National Historic Site located 10 miles (16 km) southwest of Downtown St. Louis, Missouri within the municipality of Grantwood Village. The site, also known as White Haven, commemorates the life, military career, and Presidency of Ulysses S. Grant. Five historic structures are preserved at the site including the childhood home of Julia Dent Grant, wife of Ulysses S. Grant.
Passage 2:
States of Germany
Local associations of a special kind are an amalgamation of one or more Landkreise with one or more Kreisfreie Städte to form a replacement of the aforementioned administrative entities at the district level. They are intended to implement simplification of administration at that level. Typically, a district-free city or town and its urban hinterland are grouped into such an association, or Kommunalverband besonderer Art. Such an organization requires the issuing of special laws by the governing state, since they are not covered by the normal administrative structure of the respective states.
Passage 3:
Andrew Johnson National Cemetery
The Andrew Johnson National Cemetery is a United States National Cemetery on the grounds of the Andrew Johnson National Historic Site in Greeneville, Tennessee. Established in 1906, the cemetery was built around the resting place of Andrew Johnson, the 17th President of the United States, and holds more than two thousand graves.
Passage 4:
Territories of the United States
Territories of the United States are sub-national administrative divisions directly overseen by the United States Federal Government. Unlike U.S. states and Native American tribes which exercise limited sovereignty alongside the federal government, territories are without sovereignty. The territories are classified by whether they are incorporated and whether they have an ``organized ''government through an Organic Act passed by the U.S. Congress.
Passage 5:
Bogotá
Bogotá (/ ˈboʊɡətɑː /, / ˌbɒɡəˈtɑː /, / ˌboʊ - /; Spanish pronunciation: (boɣoˈta) (listen)), officially Bogotá, Distrito Capital, abbreviated Bogotá, D.C., and formerly known as Santafé de Bogotá between 1991 and 2000, is the capital and largest city of Colombia, administered as the Capital District, although often thought of as part of Cundinamarca. Bogotá is a territorial entity of the first order, with the same administrative status as the departments of Colombia. It is the political, economic, administrative, industrial, artistic, cultural, and sports center of the country.
Passage 6:
Paea
Paea is a commune in the suburbs of Papeete in French Polynesia, an overseas territory of France in the southern Pacific Ocean. Paea is located on the island of Tahiti, in the administrative subdivision of the Windward Islands, themselves part of the Society Islands. At the 2017 census it had a population of 13,021.
Passage 7:
Eisenhower National Historic Site
Eisenhower National Historic Site preserves the home and farm of Dwight D. Eisenhower, the 34th President of the United States, and its surrounding property of . It is located in Cumberland Township, Adams County, Pennsylvania, just outside Gettysburg. Purchased by then-General Eisenhower and his wife Mamie in 1950, the farm served as a weekend retreat for the President and a meeting place for world leaders, and became the Eisenhowers' home after they left the White House in 1961.
Passage 8:
Greeneville, Tennessee
Greeneville is a town in, and the county seat of Greene County, Tennessee, United States. The population as of the 2010 census was 15,062. The town was named in honor of Revolutionary War hero Nathanael Greene. It is the only town with this spelling in the United States, although there are numerous U.S. towns named "Greenville". The town was the capital of the short-lived State of Franklin in the 18th-century history of the Tennessee region.
Passage 9:
British Togoland
British Togoland, officially the Mandate Territory of Togoland and later officially the Trust Territory of Togoland, was a territory in West Africa, under the administration of the United Kingdom. It was effectively formed in 1916 by the splitting of the German protectorate of Togoland into two territories, French Togoland and British Togoland, during the First World War. Initially, it was a League of Nations Class B mandate. In 1922, British Togoland was formally placed under British rule while French Togoland, now Togo, was placed under French rule.
Passage 10:
Puʻukoholā Heiau National Historic Site
Puukoholā Heiau National Historic Site is a United States National Historic Site located on the northwestern coast of the island of Hawaii. The site preserves the National Historic Landmark ruins of the last major Ancient Hawaiian temple, and other historic sites.
Passage 11:
Union territory
A union territory is a type of administrative division in the Republic of India. Unlike states, which have their own elected governments, union territories are ruled directly by the Union Government (central government), hence the name ``union territory ''. Union territories in India qualify as federal territories, by definition.
Passage 12:
Zec Bras-Coupé–Désert
The ZEC Bras-Coupé-Desert is a "zone d'exploitation contrôlée" (controlled harvesting zone) (ZEC), located in the unorganized territory of Lac-Pythonga in La Vallée-de-la-Gatineau Regional County Municipality, in the administrative region of Outaouais, in Quebec, in Canada.
Passage 13:
Wardville, Oklahoma
Wardville is a small unincorporated community in northern Atoka County, Oklahoma, United States, along State Highway 131 14 miles northeast of Coalgate, Oklahoma. The post office was established February 6, 1902 under the name Herbert, Oklahoma. Herbert was located in Atoka County, Choctaw Nation, a territorial-era entity which included portions of today's Atoka, Coal, Hughes and Pittsburg counties. The town was named after Herbert Ward, who was the youngest son of the towns first postmaster, Henry Pleasant Ward. The name of the town was changed to Wardville on July 18, 1907. Wardville was named for the before mentioned Henry Pleasant Ward, who served in the territorial House of Representatives and Senate and was an Atoka County judge. The Wardville Post Office closed in 2007.
Passage 14:
Alaska Purchase
The Alaska Purchase (Russian: Продажа Аляски, tr. Prodazha Alyaski) was the United States' acquisition of Alaska from the Russian Empire on March 30, 1867, by a treaty ratified by the United States Senate, and signed by president Andrew Johnson.
Passage 15:
Ap Lo Chun
Ap Lo Chun () is a small island in the New Territories of Hong Kong. It is located in Ap Chau Bay () between Ap Chau in the east and Sai Ap Chau in the west, with the islet of Ap Tan Pai nearby in the northeast. It is under the administration of North District.
Passage 16:
Bird migration
Some bar-tailed godwits Limosa lapponica have the longest known non-stop flight of any migrant, flying 11,000 km from Alaska to their New Zealand non-breeding areas. Prior to migration, 55 percent of their bodyweight is stored as fat to fuel this uninterrupted journey.
Passage 17:
Vilnius County
Vilnius County () is the largest of the 10 counties of Lithuania, located in the east of the country around the city Vilnius. On 1 July 2010, the county administration was abolished, and since that date, Vilnius County remains as the territorial and statistical unit.
Passage 18:
Namibia
South Africa occupied the colony in 1915 after defeating the German force during World War I and administered it from 1919 onward as a League of Nations mandate territory. Although the South African government desired to incorporate 'South-West Africa' into its territory, it never officially did so, although it was administered as the de facto 'fifth province', with the white minority having representation in the whites-only Parliament of South Africa, as well as electing their own local administration the SWA Legislative Assembly. The South African government also appointed the SWA administrator, who had extensive powers. Following the League's replacement by the United Nations in 1946, South Africa refused to surrender its earlier mandate to be replaced by a United Nations Trusteeship agreement, requiring closer international monitoring of the territory's administration (along with a definite independence schedule). The Herero Chief's Council submitted a number of petitions to the UN calling for it to grant Namibia independence during the 1950s. During the 1960s, when European powers granted independence to their colonies and trust territories in Africa, pressure mounted on South Africa to do so in Namibia. In 1966 the International Court of Justice dismissed a complaint brought by Ethiopia and Liberia against South Africa's continued presence in the territory, but the U.N. General Assembly subsequently revoked South Africa's mandate, while in 1971 the International Court of Justice issued an "advisory opinion" declaring South Africa's continued administration to be illegal.
Passage 19:
Arrondissement of Mechelen
The Arrondissement of Mechelen (; ) is one of the three administrative arrondissements in the Province of Antwerp, Belgium. It is both an administrative and a judicial arrondissement, as the territory for both coincides.
Passage 20:
Khabarovsky District
Khabarovsky District () is an administrative and municipal district (raion), one of the seventeen in Khabarovsk Krai, Russia. It consists of two unconnected segments separated by the territory of Amursky District, which are located in the southwest of the krai. The area of the district is . Its administrative center is the city of Khabarovsk (which is not administratively a part of the district). Population:
Question: What is the county containing the National Historic Site of the president when the place from where bar-tailed godwits migrate was acquired?
Answer: Greene County
|
{
"task_name": "MuSiQue"
}
|
Passage 1:
Qingdao Liuting International Airport
Qingdao Liuting International Airport (IATA: TAO, ICAO: ZSQD) is the main airport serving the city of Qingdao in Shandong Province, China. It is about 31 km from the city center. Qingdao is a focus city for China Eastern Airlines and Shandong Airlines. Its IATA code is used for its former romanized name Tsingtao.
Passage 2:
Qingdao–Rongcheng Intercity Railway
Qingdao–Rongcheng Intercity Railway is a high-speed railway located in China's, Shandong Province. It travels along the Shandong Peninsula connecting to Qingdao and Rongcheng. Line length is 298.842 km (containing a total length of sidings, spurs and depots etc. of 335 km ). The design speed is based on 250 km/h service. However, it has been reserved for the line to be upgraded, if warranted, to 300 km/h . Construction consisted of a three-month preparation period, a building period of 27 months and with a joint testing and commissioning period of six months. On December 28, 2014, the Qingdao–Rongcheng Intercity Railway opened from Jimo to Rongcheng. The whole line is opened on November 16, 2016.。
Passage 3:
Qingdao University
Qingdao University () is a key provincial research university located in Qingdao, China. Qingdao University traces its origin to 1909, when "Deutsch-Chinesische Hochschule" (German-Chinese College), the oldest predecessor institution of Qingdao University, was jointly established by the Chinese and German governments in Qingdao. In 1993, the former Qingdao University, Qingdao Medical College, Shandong Textile Engineering College, and Qingdao Normal College, merged to form the new Qingdao University. At present, QU is one of the best comprehensive universities in Shandong Province, recognized as a member of the national "Excellent Engineer Education and Training Program." With a strong profile in Medical Sciences, Textile and Design, Business, and liberal arts, QU serves 32,300 full-time undergraduate students, 7,400 graduate students, and 1,600 international students.
Passage 4:
Zibo train collision
The Zibo train collision () was a major train collision that occurred on the morning of April 28, 2008, near the city of Zibo, in Shandong province, People's Republic of China. The accident occurred on the Jiaoji Railway, which links the important cities of Qingdao and Jinan in Shandong province. With a death toll of 72 people and 416 injuries, the collision was the deadliest rail accident in the People's Republic of China since a 1997 accident in Hunan.
Passage 5:
Qingdao Aquarium
The Qingdao Aquarium () also known as the Qingdao Underwater World () is the oldest public aquarium in China. It is located in the city of Qingdao, Shandong Province. The aquarium originated from an initiative launched by the educator Cai Yuanpei in 1930 and was first opened to the public on May 8, 1932. As of 2013, the aquarium consists of four main exhibition halls that are connected by tunnels and provides nearly 10,000 square meters of total exhibition area. The Qingdao Aquarium has been listed as a major historical and cultural sites protected by Shandong Province since 2006 (site number 3-267). It is located right on shore of the Yellow Sea's Huiquan Bay (汇泉湾), next to the "No. 1 Bathing Beach" in the Shinan District of Qingdao.
Passage 6:
Shandong Airlines
Shandong Airlines Co.Ltd. (, nicknamed SDA or 山航 "Shānháng") is an airline based in the Shandong Airlines Center (山东航空大厦 "Shāndōng Hángkōng Dàshà") in Jinan, Shandong, China. The Chinese carrier operates mainly domestic trunk routes from Jinan, Qingdao and Yantai to major cities in China. It is owned by Air China and holds a 10 percent stake in Sichuan Airlines.
Passage 7:
Xiang Ming
Xiang Ming () (1909–1969) was a People's Republic of China politician. He was born in Linqu County, Shandong Province. In 1937, at the start of the Second United Front, he was Liu Shaoqi's secretary. He was active in Henan Province and northern Jiangsu Province. After the beginning of the second phase of the Chinese Civil War, he participated in the Menglianggu Campaign of May 1947. He was briefly mayor of Qingdao before becoming Communist Party of China Committee Secretary of his home province. In 1954, Xiang became involved in an anti-party conspiracy led by Gao Gang and Rao Shushi. On July 3, 1954, the central government initiated proceedings to remove Xiang from his post as Party Chief of Shandong. On September 7, 1954, the Shandong Party Committee informed the central government of its acceptance of Xiang's removal. On October 10, 1954, Xiang was formally removed as Party Chief of Shandong and banned from political office. During the Cultural Revolution, Xiang was persecuted and died as a result.
Passage 8:
Qingdao
Qingdao ( ; also spelled Tsingtao) is a city in eastern Shandong Province on the east coast of China. It is the largest city in its province. Administered at the sub-provincial level, Qingdao has jurisdiction over six districts and four county-level cities. s of 2014 Qingdao had a population of 9,046,200 with an urban population of 6,188,100. Lying across the Shandong Peninsula and looking out to the Yellow Sea, it borders Yantai to the northeast, Weifang to the west and Rizhao to the southwest.
Passage 9:
Qingdao–Jinan Railway
The Qingdao–Jinan Railway or Jiaoji Railway (, formerly the Shantung Railway) is railway in Shandong Province, China. The railway is 393 km in length and connects Qingdao, on the Jiaozhou Bay, and Jinan, the provincial capital of Shandong. Adolph von Hansemann and other German financiers funded construction of the railway, then known as "Schantung Eisenbahn Gesellschaft", which began September 23, 1899, and was completed in 1904. Since the quadruple tracking of this corridor with the opening of the parallel Qingdao–Jinan Passenger Railway the line is mostly used for freight with some conventional passenger services.
Passage 10:
Qingdao Jiaodong International Airport
Qingdao Jiaodong International Airport is an airport being built to serve the city of Qingdao in Shandong Province, China. It received approval in December 2013, and will replace the existing Qingdao Liuting International Airport as the city's main airport. It will be located in Jiaodong, Jiaozhou, 39 km from the center of Qingdao. Upon completion in 2019, it will be the largest airport in Shandong capable of handling 35 million passengers annually.
Question: Who owns Shangdong Airlines which operates mainly domestic trunk routes and whose focus city is Qingdao in Shandong Province, China?
Answer: Air China
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
/**
* Copyright 2013 Expedia, Inc. All rights reserved.
* EXPEDIA PROPRIETARY/CONFIDENTIAL. Use is subject to license terms.
*/
package com.expedia.echox3.basics.configuration;
import java.io.File;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.nio.file.FileSystem;
import java.nio.file.FileSystems;
import java.nio.file.Path;
import java.nio.file.StandardWatchEventKinds;
import java.nio.file.WatchEvent;
import java.nio.file.WatchKey;
import java.nio.file.WatchService;
import java.util.HashMap;
import java.util.Iterator;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.Map;
import java.util.Set;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.file.BaseFileHandler;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.file.FileFinder;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.file.SimpleFilenameFilter;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.monitoring.event.BasicEvent;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.thread.AbstractBaseThread;
import com.expedia.echox3.basics.tools.misc.BasicTools;
public class FolderConfigurationProvider extends ProviderListConfigurationProvider
{
private static final String WEB_INF_CLASSES =
"WEB-INF" + BaseFileHandler.FOLDER_SEPARATOR + "classes";
private static final WatchService WATCH_SERVICE;
private static final WatcherThread WATCH_THREAD;
private WatchKey m_key = null;
static
{
FileSystem fileSystem = FileSystems.getDefault();
WatchService watchService = null;
WatcherThread watcherThread = null;
try
{
watchService = fileSystem.newWatchService();
watcherThread = new WatcherThread(watchService);
}
catch (IOException exception)
{
getLogger().error(BasicEvent.EVENT_CONFIGURATION_FOLDER_WATCHER_INIT_ERROR,
"Failed to initialize WatcherThread. Configuration files will not be hot.", exception);
}
WATCH_SERVICE = watchService;
WATCH_THREAD = watcherThread;
}
public FolderConfigurationProvider(String folderName)
{
super(folderName);
File file = new File(folderName);
getLogger().info(BasicEvent.EVENT_CONFIGURATION_LOAD_FOLDER,
"Creating a provider for folder '%s'. The content of this folder is HOT.", file.getAbsolutePath());
reloadFiles();
FileSystem fileSystem = FileSystems.getDefault();
Path path = fileSystem.getPath(folderName);
try
{
m_key = path.register(WATCH_SERVICE,
StandardWatchEventKinds.OVERFLOW,
StandardWatchEventKinds.ENTRY_CREATE,
StandardWatchEventKinds.ENTRY_DELETE,
StandardWatchEventKinds.ENTRY_MODIFY);
WATCH_THREAD.registerKey(m_key, this);
}
catch (IOException e)
{
getLogger().warn(BasicEvent.EVENT_FOLDER_REGISTER_FAILED, e,
"Failed to register the folder %s for notification, its configuration content will not be hot.",
path.toAbsolutePath());
}
ConfigurationManager.getInstance().addProvider(this);
}
private void reloadFiles()
{
Set<File> includeSet;
Set<File> excludeSet;
try
{
includeSet = FileFinder.getFilenameSet((String) getSource(), ConfigurationManager.FILENAME_FILTER);
// Exclude the duplicate files in WEB-INF/classes, as they are on the classpath.
// These files are loaded only when running in the debugger.
excludeSet = FileFinder.getFilenameSet((String) getSource(),
new SimpleFilenameFilter(null, WEB_INF_CLASSES, ConfigurationManager.FILENAME_SUFFIX));
}
catch (Exception e)
{
getLogger().error(BasicEvent.EVENT_CONFIGURATION_FOLDER_LIST_ERROR, e,
"Failed to obtain the list of configuration files");
return;
}
includeSet.removeAll(excludeSet);
boolean isModified = false;
synchronized (getProviderMap())
{
// See which file provider needs to be added...
for (File file : includeSet)
{
FileConfigurationProvider provider = getProviderMap().get(file);
if (null == provider)
{
provider = new FileConfigurationProvider(file);
getProviderMap().put(file, provider);
isModified = true;
}
else
{
isModified |= provider.reload();
}
}
// See which file provider has been removed...
Iterator<? super Comparable<?>> iterator = getProviderMap().keySet().iterator();
while (iterator.hasNext())
{
// Strictly speaking, the object SHOULD always be a File, as it is only put a few lines above.
// However, this is a ProviderListConfigurationProvider, where the key to the getProviderMap()
// can be anything and is only defined as an Object.
// The paranoid thing to do is to validate.
Object object = iterator.next();
if (!(object instanceof File))
{
iterator.remove();
isModified = true;
continue;
}
File file = (File) object;
if (!includeSet.contains(file))
{
iterator.remove();
isModified = true;
}
}
}
if (isModified)
{
ConfigurationManager.getInstance().postChangeEvent(ConfigurationManager.REASON_PROVIDER_CHANGE, this);
}
}
@Override
public void close()
{
m_key.cancel();
super.close();
}
private static class WatcherThread extends AbstractBaseThread
{
private WatchService m_watcher;
private Map<WatchKey, FolderConfigurationProvider> m_keyMap = new HashMap<>();
public WatcherThread(WatchService watcher)
{
m_watcher = watcher;
setName("FolderConfigurationUpdate");
setDaemon(true);
start();
}
public void registerKey(WatchKey key, FolderConfigurationProvider provider)
{
m_keyMap.put(key, provider);
}
@SuppressWarnings("rawtypes")
@Override
public void run()
{
while (true)
{
WatchKey key = null;
try
{
key = m_watcher.take();
boolean isValid = key.isValid();
if (!isValid)
{
getLogger().debug(BasicEvent.EVENT_DEBUG, "Key is not valid!");
continue;
}
// Walk the list of events to clear them
List<WatchEvent<?>> list = key.pollEvents();
// boolean isCreate = false;
for (WatchEvent<?> event : list) // NOPMD, event is unused.
{
getLogger().debug(BasicEvent.EVENT_DEBUG, "Receive Watcher event %s", event.kind().name());
// if (StandardWatchEventKinds.ENTRY_CREATE.equals(event.kind()))
// {
// isCreate = true;
// }
}
// If isCreate, there is a slight delay before the file is available for read ...
// Actually, be paranoid and always a bit to be safe.
// if (isCreate)
{
BasicTools.sleepMS(100);
}
// Send the notification to the folder...
FolderConfigurationProvider provider = m_keyMap.get(key);
if (null != provider)
{
provider.reloadFiles();
}
}
catch (Throwable throwable)
{
getLogger().error(BasicEvent.EVENT_CONFIGURATION_FOLDER_WATCHER_RUN_ERROR, throwable,
"Unexpected exception issue in configuration update thread.");
}
finally
{
if (null != key)
{
key.reset();
}
}
}
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Silver Lake (film)
Silver Lake is a 2004 film.
Passage 2:
Gunasekhar
Gunasekar( born Gunasekar Karri; 2 June 1964) is an Indian film director and screenwriter known for his works exclusively in Telugu cinema. Gunasekhar directed the Children's classic" Ramayanam"( 1997), which won the National Film Award for Best Children's Film, including several state Nandi Awards for that year, and was screened at the International Children's Film Festival of India. The 2003 action film," Okkadu", which won eight state Nandi Awards, and four Filmfare Awards South including the Filmfare Award for Best Director – Telugu, the blockbuster film became the highest grossing Telugu film for that year, and was remade into various Indian languages. His latest venture is the historical film, Rudhramadevi which was released in October 2015 for wide positive reviews and became one of the biggest hits of the year.
Passage 3:
Fascination (2004 film)
Fascination is a 2004 film directed by Klaus Menzel.
Passage 4:
The Police Serve the Citizens?
La polizia è al servizio del cittadino? ( internationally released as The Police Serve the Citizens?) is a 1973 Italian giallo- poliziottesco film directed by Romolo Guerrieri. The film is set in Genova.
Passage 5:
Keerthi Reddy
Keerthi Reddy is a former Indian film actress. She has acted in Hindi, Tamil, Telugu and Kannada movies. Her notable work includes" Tholi Prema"( 1998)" Pyaar Ishq Aur Mohabbat"( 2001) and" Arjun"( 2004).
Passage 6:
Agnes and His Brothers
Agnes and His Brothers is a 2004 film directed by Oskar Roehler.
Passage 7:
21ème Siècle
21 ème Siècle is a 2004 film from Senegal.
Passage 8:
Arjun (2004 film)
Arjun is a 2004 Indian Telugu- language action film written and directed by Gunasekhar. The film starred Mahesh Babu as the titular character along with Shriya Saran, Keerthi Reddy, Raja Abel, Prakash Raj, and Saritha. Both Mahesh Babu and Saritha received the Nandi Special Jury Award. The film was screened at the International Film Festival of India in the mainstream section. The film was later dubbed into Hindi as" Maidan- E- Jung"( 2008) and in Tamil as" Varenda Maduraikku". The film recorded as" Above Average" at box- office.
Passage 9:
Zulu Love Letter
Zulu Love Letter is a 2004 film.
Passage 10:
Romolo Guerrieri
Romolo Guerrieri, aka" Romolo Girolami"( born 5 December 1931) is an Italian film director and screenwriter. He directed 17 films between 1961 and 1992. He was born in Rome, Italy.
Question: Do both The Police Serve The Citizens? and Arjun (2004 Film) films have the directors from the same country?
Answer: no
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
import os
import sys, logging
import pywikibot
import csv
import MySQLdb as mdb
from MySQLdb import cursors
import traceback
import re
import time
from datetime import datetime, timedelta
import argparse
import pdb
'''
Create the logger
'''
NOW = time.strftime("%Y_%m_%d_%H_%M")
OUT_DIR_LOGS = os.path.expanduser('~/logs')
def create_logger(logger, logLang='main2'):
log_format = logging.Formatter("%(asctime)s - %(name)s - %(levelname)s - %(message)s")
file_handler = logging.FileHandler(filename=(os.path.join(OUT_DIR_LOGS, logLang + '-babel_Users.log')))
file_handler.setFormatter(log_format)
logger.setLevel(logging.INFO)
logger.addHandler(file_handler)
class EditPatternUserProficency():
def __init__(self):
self.dir = os.path.expanduser('~/outputs/data_10_10_bigwiki2/')#'~/outputs/Global_Unique/'
self.outdir = os.path.expanduser('~/outputs/')#Global_Edit_Count/
self.disconnect_database()
self.con = None
self.cur = None
self.con2 = None
self.cur2 = None
self.gdbCursor = None
self.connectGlobalUserData()
def disconnect_database(self):
try:
self.cur.close()
self.con.close()
self.gdbCursor.close()
logging.info("Successfully disconnect " + self.language)
except:
pass
def connect_database(self, dbLang):
try:
db_name = dbLang+ 'wiki_p'
self.con = mdb.connect(db=db_name, host=dbLang+"wiki.labsdb", read_default_file=os.path.expanduser("~/replica.my.cnf"), cursorclass=mdb.cursors.SSDictCursor)
logging.info("Connection Successful: " + str(self.con))
self.cur = self.con.cursor()
except mdb.Error, e:
logging.error("Unable to establish connection")
try:
db_name2 = dbLang + 'wiki_p'
self.con2 = mdb.connect(db=db_name2, host=dbLang+"wiki.labsdb", read_default_file=os.path.expanduser("~/replica.my.cnf"), cursorclass=mdb.cursors.SSDictCursor)
logging.info("Connection Successful: " + str(self.con2))
self.cur2 = self.con2.cursor()
except mdb.Error, e:
logging.error("Unable to establish connection")
def connectGlobalUserData(self):
"""
Connect to global accounts. This is a different database than connectServer.
We are not using this method at the moment.
"""
try:
logging.info("Connecting to Toolserver MySql Db: mysql -h sql-s3 centralauth_p") # "mysql -hcentralauth-p.userdb"
print "Connecting to Toolserver MySql Db: mysql -h sql-s3 centralauth_p"
self.gdbConnection = mdb.connect(db='centralauth_p',
host="centralauth.labsdb",
read_default_file=os.path.expanduser("~/replica.my.cnf"))
logging.info("Connection Successful" + str(self.gdbConnection))
self.gdbCursor = self.gdbConnection.cursor(cursors.SSDictCursor)
except mdb.Error, e:
logging.error("Unable to establish connection")
def _isUserGlobal(self, user_name):
logging.info("checking if " + user_name + " is global")
attempts = 0
success = False
while attempts < 3 and not success:
unicode_user_name = unicode(user_name, 'utf-8')
query = ur'''select gu_name from globaluser where gu_name = "%s"'''
try:
#self.gdbCursor.execute(query.encode('utf-8'))
self.gdbCursor.execute((query % (unicode_user_name)).encode('utf-8'))
gUser = self.gdbCursor.fetchone()
if gUser:
#print gUser['gu_name']
self.gdbCursor.fetchall()
return True
else:
self.gdbCursor.fetchall()
return False
success = True
except Exception, e:
attempts += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
def user_namespace_contribution(self):
lang_code = re.compile(ur'(?P<lcode>\w+)[-]+(?P<level>[0-5\w])$', re.I | re.U)
query_groupby_namespace = ur'''SELECT count(rev_id) AS rev_count, sum(rev_len) AS total_rev_length, page_namespace
FROM revision_userindex, page
WHERE page_id = rev_page
AND rev_user = %(user_id)s GROUP BY page_namespace'''
for filename in os.listdir(self.dir):
wiki_code = filename.split("-")[0]
completed_users = []
with open(os.path.expanduser(self.outdir + wiki_code+'_global_users_namespace.csv'), 'w+') as data_file:
writer = csv.writer(data_file)
writer.writerow(('user_id', 'rev_count', 'total_rev_length', 'page_namespace', 'home_wiki','proficency_level'))
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
input_file = csv.DictReader(open(self.dir + filename))
for filerow in input_file:
if filerow['user_id'] not in completed_users:
match_template = lang_code.match(filerow['proficency_level'])
if match_template:
a = [wiki_code+'-1', wiki_code+'-2', wiki_code+'-3', wiki_code+'-4', wiki_code+'-5', wiki_code+'-N', wiki_code+'-n', wiki_code+'-M']
proficiency_code = None
if len(filerow['proficency_level'].split('_')) > 1:
proficiency_code = filerow['proficency_level'].split('_')[1]
else:
proficiency_code = filerow['proficency_level']
if any(x in proficiency_code for x in a):
#if self._isUserGlobal(filerow['user_id']):
attempt = 0
success = False
while attempt < 3 and not success:
try:
self.cur.execute(query_groupby_namespace, {'user_id':filerow['user_id']})
logging.info("processing user " + filerow['user_id'])
complete = False
while not complete:
group_by_namespace_data = self.cur.fetchone()
#self.cur.fetchall()
if not group_by_namespace_data:
complete = True
continue
writer.writerow([filerow['user_id'], group_by_namespace_data['rev_count'],
group_by_namespace_data['total_rev_length'], group_by_namespace_data['page_namespace'], \
filerow['home_wiki'], filerow['proficency_level']])
completed_users.append(filerow['user_id'])
success = True
except Exception, e:
attempt += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
except mdb.OperationalError, sqlEx:
attempt += 1
if sqlEx[0] == 2006:
logging.info("Caught the MySQL server gone away exception attempting to re-connect")
logging.error(sqlEx)
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
#else:
# logging.info(filerow['user_id'] + " is not a global user in " + wiki_code)
def edit_count_by_proficency(self):
lang_code = re.compile(ur'(?P<lcode>\w+)[-]+(?P<level>[0-5\w])$', re.I | re.U)
query_edit_count = ur'''SELECT user_editcount FROM user WHERE user_id = %(user_id)s'''
completed_users = []
for filename in os.listdir(self.dir):
wiki_code = filename.split("-")[0]
with open(os.path.expanduser(self.outdir + wiki_code+'_global_proficency_editcount.csv'), 'w+') as data_file:
writer = csv.writer(data_file)
writer.writerow(('user_id', 'edit_count', 'home_wiki','proficency_level'))
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
input_file = csv.DictReader(open(self.dir + filename))
for filerow in input_file:
if filerow[wiki_code +'_wiki_user_id'] != 'NA':
logging.info("processing user_id " + filerow[wiki_code+'_wiki_user_id'])
match_template = lang_code.match(filerow['proficency_level'])
#print filerow
if match_template:
a = [wiki_code+'-1', wiki_code+'-2', wiki_code+'-3', wiki_code+'-4', wiki_code+'-5', wiki_code+'-N', wiki_code+'-n', wiki_code+'-M']
proficiency_len = (filerow['proficency_level']).split('_')
if len(proficiency_len) > 1:
proficiency_code = proficiency_len[1]
else:
proficiency_code = filerow['proficency_level']
if any(x in proficiency_code for x in a):
attempt = 0
success = False
while attempt < 3 and not success:
try:
self.cur.execute(query_edit_count, {'user_id':filerow[wiki_code+'_wiki_user_id']})
complete = False
while not complete:
user_edit_count = self.cur.fetchone()
#self.cur.fetchall()
if not user_edit_count:
complete = True
continue
#print user_edit_count
writer.writerow([filerow[wiki_code+'_wiki_user_id'], user_edit_count['user_editcount'], \
filerow['home_wiki'],proficiency_code])
success = True
except Exception, e:
attempt += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
except mdb.OperationalError, sqlEx:
attempt += 1
if sqlEx[0] == 2006:
logging.info("Caught the MySQL server gone away exception attempting to re-connect")
logging.error(sqlEx)
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
def _get_rev_count(self, user_id):
query_distinct_title_count = ur'''SELECT COUNT(distinct(rev_page)) as REV_COUNT
FROM revision_userindex, page
WHERE page_id = rev_page
AND page_namespace=0
AND rev_user = %(user_id)s'''
attempt = 0
success = False
while attempt < 3 and not success:
try:
self.cur2.execute(query_distinct_title_count, {'user_id':user_id})
complete = False
while not complete:
rev_count = self.cur2.fetchone()
self.cur2.fetchall()
if not rev_count:
complete = True
continue
user_rev_count = rev_count['REV_COUNT']
print user_rev_count
success = True
return user_rev_count
except Exception, e:
attempt += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
def get_titles(self):
lang_code = re.compile(ur'(?P<lcode>\w+)[-]+(?P<level>[0-5\w])$', re.I | re.U)
query_page_title = ur'''SELECT distinct(p.page_title)
FROM revision_userindex r, page p
WHERE p.page_id = r.rev_page
AND p.page_namespace=0
AND r.rev_user = %(user_id)s ORDER by RAND() LIMIT 100'''
with open(os.path.expanduser(self.outdir + 'en1_titles.csv'), 'w+') as en1_file, open(os.path.expanduser(self.outdir + 'enN_titles.csv'), 'w+') as enN_file:
en1writer = csv.writer(en1_file)
enNwriter = csv.writer(enN_file)
for filename in os.listdir(self.dir):
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
input_file = csv.DictReader(open(self.dir + filename))
wiki_code = filename.split("-")[0]
for filerow in input_file:
template_from_row = filerow['template']
logging.info("processing user_id " + filerow['user_id'])
match_template = lang_code.match(filerow['template'])
if match_template:
a = [wiki_code+'-1', wiki_code+'-2', wiki_code+'-3', wiki_code+'-4', wiki_code+'-5', wiki_code+'-N', wiki_code+'-n', wiki_code+'-M']
if any(code in filerow['template'] for code in a):
rev_count = self._get_rev_count(filerow['user_id'])
if wiki_code+'-N' == template_from_row:
if int(rev_count) > 100:
attempt = 0
success = False
while attempt < 3 and not success:
try:
self.cur.execute(query_page_title, {'user_id':int(filerow['user_id'])})
titles = self.cur.fetchall()
for title in titles:
enNwriter.writerow([title['page_title'].replace("_", " ")])
success = True
except Exception, e:
attempt += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
except mdb.OperationalError, sqlEx:
attempt += 1
if sqlEx[0] == 2006:
logging.info("Caught the MySQL server gone away exception attempting to re-connect")
logging.error(sqlEx)
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
elif wiki_code+'-1' == template_from_row:
attempt = 0
success = False
while attempt < 3 and not success:
try:
self.cur.execute(query_page_title, {'user_id':int(filerow['user_id'])})
titles = self.cur.fetchall()
for title in titles:
en1writer.writerow([title['page_title'].replace("_", " ")])
success = True
except Exception, e:
attempt += 1
traceback.print_exc()
logging.exception(e)
except mdb.OperationalError, sqlEx:
attempt += 1
if sqlEx[0] == 2006:
logging.info("Caught the MySQL server gone away exception attempting to re-connect")
logging.error(sqlEx)
self.connect_database(filename.split("-")[0])
def main():
log = logging.getLogger()
create_logger(log)
editPattern = EditPatternUserProficency()
#editPattern.edit_count_by_proficency()
editPattern.user_namespace_contribution()
#editPattern.get_titles()
if __name__ == "__main__":
main()
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Taxi Blues
Taxi Blues( translit. Taksi- Blyuz) is a 1990 Soviet drama film directed by Pavel Lungin. It was entered into the 1990 Cannes Film Festival where Lungin won the award for Best Director. The film was selected as the Soviet entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 63rd Academy Awards, but was not accepted as a nominee.
Passage 2:
Zulu Love Letter
Zulu Love Letter is a 2004 film.
Passage 3:
Fascination (2004 film)
Fascination is a 2004 film directed by Klaus Menzel.
Passage 4:
Sur les murs de la ville
Sur les murs de la ville is a 2004 film.
Passage 5:
21ème Siècle
21 ème Siècle is a 2004 film from Senegal.
Passage 6:
Agnes and His Brothers
Agnes and His Brothers is a 2004 film directed by Oskar Roehler.
Passage 7:
Longinus (film)
Longinus is a 2004 film from director Ryuhei Kitamura.
Passage 8:
Silver Lake (film)
Silver Lake is a 2004 film.
Passage 9:
Adam Khan Dukhaniye
Adam Khan Dukhaniye is a Pollywood film of 1971. It stars Badar Munir and Yasmin in the lead roles.
Passage 10:
Yasmin (2004 film)
Yasmin is a 2004 drama film directed by Kenneth Glenaan, written by Simon Beaufoy and starring Archie Panjabi and Renu Setna. It is set amongst a British Pakistani community in parts of Keighley( in West Yorkshire, England) before and after the events of the 11 September 2001 attacks.
Question: Are Taxi Blues and Yasmin (2004 Film) both from the same country?
Answer: no
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to the Apache Software Foundation (ASF) under one
* or more contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file
* distributed with this work for additional information
* regarding copyright ownership. The ASF licenses this file
* to you under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the
* "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance
* with the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing,
* software distributed under the License is distributed on an
* "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY
* KIND, either express or implied. See the License for the
* specific language governing permissions and limitations
* under the License.
*/
package org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler;
import org.apache.flink.api.common.InputDependencyConstraint;
import org.apache.flink.api.common.JobID;
import org.apache.flink.api.common.JobStatus;
import org.apache.flink.configuration.Configuration;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.checkpoint.CheckpointCoordinator;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.checkpoint.hooks.TestMasterHook;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.concurrent.ComponentMainThreadExecutorServiceAdapter;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.concurrent.ManuallyTriggeredScheduledExecutor;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.execution.ExecutionState;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.AccessExecutionJobVertex;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.ArchivedExecutionVertex;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.ErrorInfo;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.ExecutionAttemptID;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.ExecutionVertex;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.failover.flip1.TestRestartBackoffTimeStrategy;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.executiongraph.utils.SimpleAckingTaskManagerGateway;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.io.network.partition.ResultPartitionType;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.DistributionPattern;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.JobGraph;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.JobVertex;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.JobVertexID;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.ScheduleMode;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobgraph.tasks.AbstractInvokable;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobmanager.scheduler.NoResourceAvailableException;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobmanager.scheduler.SlotSharingGroup;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.jobmaster.SlotRequestId;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.EagerSchedulingStrategy;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.ExecutionVertexID;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.LazyFromSourcesSchedulingStrategy;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.SchedulingExecutionVertex;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.SchedulingStrategyFactory;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.SchedulingTopology;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.strategy.TestSchedulingStrategy;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.taskmanager.TaskExecutionState;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.testtasks.NoOpInvokable;
import org.apache.flink.runtime.testutils.DirectScheduledExecutorService;
import org.apache.flink.util.ExecutorUtils;
import org.apache.flink.util.FlinkException;
import org.apache.flink.util.Preconditions;
import org.apache.flink.util.TestLogger;
import org.apache.flink.shaded.guava18.com.google.common.collect.Iterables;
import org.junit.After;
import org.junit.Before;
import org.junit.Test;
import java.time.Duration;
import java.util.Arrays;
import java.util.Collections;
import java.util.Iterator;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.concurrent.CountDownLatch;
import java.util.concurrent.ExecutorService;
import java.util.concurrent.Executors;
import java.util.concurrent.ScheduledExecutorService;
import java.util.concurrent.TimeUnit;
import static org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.SchedulerTestingUtils.acknowledgePendingCheckpoint;
import static org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.SchedulerTestingUtils.enableCheckpointing;
import static org.apache.flink.runtime.scheduler.SchedulerTestingUtils.getCheckpointCoordinator;
import static org.apache.flink.util.ExceptionUtils.findThrowable;
import static org.apache.flink.util.ExceptionUtils.findThrowableWithMessage;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.contains;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.containsInAnyOrder;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.containsString;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.equalTo;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.hasSize;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.is;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.lessThan;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.notNullValue;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.nullValue;
import static org.junit.Assert.assertEquals;
import static org.junit.Assert.assertFalse;
import static org.junit.Assert.assertThat;
import static org.junit.Assert.assertTrue;
import static org.junit.Assert.fail;
/**
* Tests for {@link DefaultScheduler}.
*/
public class DefaultSchedulerTest extends TestLogger {
private static final int TIMEOUT_MS = 1000;
private static final JobID TEST_JOB_ID = new JobID();
private ManuallyTriggeredScheduledExecutor taskRestartExecutor = new ManuallyTriggeredScheduledExecutor();
private ExecutorService executor;
private ScheduledExecutorService scheduledExecutorService;
private Configuration configuration;
private TestRestartBackoffTimeStrategy testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy;
private TestExecutionVertexOperationsDecorator testExecutionVertexOperations;
private ExecutionVertexVersioner executionVertexVersioner;
private TestExecutionSlotAllocatorFactory executionSlotAllocatorFactory;
private TestExecutionSlotAllocator testExecutionSlotAllocator;
@Before
public void setUp() throws Exception {
executor = Executors.newSingleThreadExecutor();
scheduledExecutorService = new DirectScheduledExecutorService();
configuration = new Configuration();
testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy = new TestRestartBackoffTimeStrategy(true, 0);
testExecutionVertexOperations = new TestExecutionVertexOperationsDecorator(new DefaultExecutionVertexOperations());
executionVertexVersioner = new ExecutionVertexVersioner();
executionSlotAllocatorFactory = new TestExecutionSlotAllocatorFactory();
testExecutionSlotAllocator = executionSlotAllocatorFactory.getTestExecutionSlotAllocator();
}
@After
public void tearDown() throws Exception {
if (scheduledExecutorService != null) {
ExecutorUtils.gracefulShutdown(TIMEOUT_MS, TimeUnit.MILLISECONDS, scheduledExecutorService);
}
if (executor != null) {
ExecutorUtils.gracefulShutdown(TIMEOUT_MS, TimeUnit.MILLISECONDS, executor);
}
}
@Test
public void startScheduling() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void scheduledVertexOrderFromSchedulingStrategyIsRespected() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleJobVertexJobGraph(10);
final JobVertexID onlyJobVertexId = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph).getID();
final List<ExecutionVertexID> desiredScheduleOrder = Arrays.asList(
new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertexId, 4),
new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertexId, 0),
new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertexId, 3),
new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertexId, 1),
new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertexId, 2));
final TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory schedulingStrategyFactory = new TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory();
createScheduler(jobGraph, schedulingStrategyFactory);
final TestSchedulingStrategy schedulingStrategy = schedulingStrategyFactory.getLastCreatedSchedulingStrategy();
schedulingStrategy.schedule(desiredScheduleOrder);
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
assertEquals(desiredScheduleOrder, deployedExecutionVertices);
}
@Test
public void restartAfterDeploymentFails() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
testExecutionVertexOperations.enableFailDeploy();
createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
testExecutionVertexOperations.disableFailDeploy();
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId, executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void scheduleWithLazyStrategy() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
jobGraph.setScheduleMode(ScheduleMode.LAZY_FROM_SOURCES);
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void restartFailedTask() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex archivedExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = archivedExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId, executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void updateTaskExecutionStateReturnsFalseIfExecutionDoesNotExist() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final TaskExecutionState taskExecutionState = new TaskExecutionState(
jobGraph.getJobID(),
new ExecutionAttemptID(),
ExecutionState.FAILED);
assertFalse(scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(taskExecutionState));
}
@Test
public void failJobIfCannotRestart() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy.setCanRestart(false);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
waitForTermination(scheduler);
final JobStatus jobStatus = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
assertThat(jobStatus, is(equalTo(JobStatus.FAILED)));
}
@Test
public void failJobIfNotEnoughResources() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy.setCanRestart(false);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.disableAutoCompletePendingRequests();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.timeoutPendingRequests();
waitForTermination(scheduler);
final JobStatus jobStatus = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
assertThat(jobStatus, is(equalTo(JobStatus.FAILED)));
Throwable failureCause = scheduler.requestJob()
.getFailureInfo()
.getException()
.deserializeError(DefaultSchedulerTest.class.getClassLoader());
assertTrue(findThrowable(failureCause, NoResourceAvailableException.class).isPresent());
assertTrue(
findThrowableWithMessage(
failureCause,
"Could not allocate the required slot within slot request timeout.").isPresent());
assertThat(jobStatus, is(equalTo(JobStatus.FAILED)));
}
@Test
public void skipDeploymentIfVertexVersionOutdated() {
testExecutionSlotAllocator.disableAutoCompletePendingRequests();
final JobGraph jobGraph = nonParallelSourceSinkJobGraph();
final List<JobVertex> sortedJobVertices = jobGraph.getVerticesSortedTopologicallyFromSources();
final ExecutionVertexID sourceExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(sortedJobVertices.get(0).getID(), 0);
final ExecutionVertexID sinkExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(sortedJobVertices.get(1).getID(), 0);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.completePendingRequest(sourceExecutionVertexId);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex sourceExecutionVertex = scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices().iterator().next();
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = sourceExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy.setCanRestart(false);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.enableAutoCompletePendingRequests();
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices(), containsInAnyOrder(sourceExecutionVertexId, sinkExecutionVertexId));
assertThat(scheduler.requestJob().getState(), is(equalTo(JobStatus.RUNNING)));
}
@Test
public void releaseSlotIfVertexVersionOutdated() {
testExecutionSlotAllocator.disableAutoCompletePendingRequests();
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final ExecutionVertexID onlyExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph).getID(), 0);
createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
executionVertexVersioner.recordModification(onlyExecutionVertexId);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.completePendingRequests();
assertThat(testExecutionSlotAllocator.getReturnedSlots(), hasSize(1));
}
@Test
public void vertexIsResetBeforeRestarted() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory schedulingStrategyFactory = new TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createScheduler(jobGraph, schedulingStrategyFactory);
final TestSchedulingStrategy schedulingStrategy = schedulingStrategyFactory.getLastCreatedSchedulingStrategy();
final SchedulingTopology topology = schedulingStrategy.getSchedulingTopology();
startScheduling(scheduler);
final SchedulingExecutionVertex onlySchedulingVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(topology.getVertices());
schedulingStrategy.schedule(Collections.singletonList(onlySchedulingVertex.getId()));
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(schedulingStrategy.getReceivedVerticesToRestart(), hasSize(1));
assertThat(onlySchedulingVertex.getState(), is(equalTo(ExecutionState.CREATED)));
}
@Test
public void scheduleOnlyIfVertexIsCreated() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory schedulingStrategyFactory = new TestSchedulingStrategy.Factory();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createScheduler(jobGraph, schedulingStrategyFactory);
final TestSchedulingStrategy schedulingStrategy = schedulingStrategyFactory.getLastCreatedSchedulingStrategy();
final SchedulingTopology topology = schedulingStrategy.getSchedulingTopology();
startScheduling(scheduler);
final ExecutionVertexID onlySchedulingVertexId = Iterables.getOnlyElement(topology.getVertices()).getId();
// Schedule the vertex to get it to a non-CREATED state
schedulingStrategy.schedule(Collections.singletonList(onlySchedulingVertexId));
// The scheduling of a non-CREATED vertex will result in IllegalStateException
try {
schedulingStrategy.schedule(Collections.singletonList(onlySchedulingVertexId));
fail("IllegalStateException should happen");
} catch (IllegalStateException e) {
// expected exception
}
}
@Test
public void handleGlobalFailure() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
scheduler.handleGlobalFailure(new Exception("forced failure"));
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.CANCELED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId, executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void vertexIsNotAffectedByOutdatedDeployment() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleJobVertexJobGraph(2);
testExecutionSlotAllocator.disableAutoCompletePendingRequests();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final Iterator<ArchivedExecutionVertex> vertexIterator = scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices().iterator();
final ArchivedExecutionVertex v1 = vertexIterator.next();
final ArchivedExecutionVertex v2 = vertexIterator.next();
final SchedulingExecutionVertex sv1 = scheduler.getSchedulingTopology().getVertices().iterator().next();
// fail v1 and let it recover to SCHEDULED
// the initial deployment of v1 will be outdated
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(
jobGraph.getJobID(),
v1.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId(),
ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
// fail v2 to get all pending slot requests in the initial deployments to be done
// this triggers the outdated deployment of v1
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(
jobGraph.getJobID(),
v2.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId(),
ExecutionState.FAILED));
// v1 should not be affected
assertThat(sv1.getState(), is(equalTo(ExecutionState.SCHEDULED)));
}
@Test
public void abortPendingCheckpointsWhenRestartingTasks() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
enableCheckpointing(jobGraph);
final CountDownLatch checkpointTriggeredLatch = getCheckpointTriggeredLatch();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.RUNNING));
final CheckpointCoordinator checkpointCoordinator = getCheckpointCoordinator(scheduler);
checkpointCoordinator.triggerCheckpoint(false);
checkpointTriggeredLatch.await();
assertThat(checkpointCoordinator.getNumberOfPendingCheckpoints(), is(equalTo(1)));
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(checkpointCoordinator.getNumberOfPendingCheckpoints(), is(equalTo(0)));
}
@Test
public void restoreStateWhenRestartingTasks() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
enableCheckpointing(jobGraph);
final CountDownLatch checkpointTriggeredLatch = getCheckpointTriggeredLatch();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.RUNNING));
final CheckpointCoordinator checkpointCoordinator = getCheckpointCoordinator(scheduler);
// register a stateful master hook to help verify state restore
final TestMasterHook masterHook = TestMasterHook.fromId("testHook");
checkpointCoordinator.addMasterHook(masterHook);
// complete one checkpoint for state restore
checkpointCoordinator.triggerCheckpoint(false);
checkpointTriggeredLatch.await();
final long checkpointId = checkpointCoordinator.getPendingCheckpoints().keySet().iterator().next();
acknowledgePendingCheckpoint(scheduler, checkpointId);
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(masterHook.getRestoreCount(), is(equalTo(1)));
}
@Test
public void failGlobalWhenRestoringStateFails() throws Exception {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
enableCheckpointing(jobGraph);
final CountDownLatch checkpointTriggeredLatch = getCheckpointTriggeredLatch();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.RUNNING));
final CheckpointCoordinator checkpointCoordinator = getCheckpointCoordinator(scheduler);
// register a master hook to fail state restore
final TestMasterHook masterHook = TestMasterHook.fromId("testHook");
masterHook.enableFailOnRestore();
checkpointCoordinator.addMasterHook(masterHook);
// complete one checkpoint for state restore
checkpointCoordinator.triggerCheckpoint(false);
checkpointTriggeredLatch.await();
final long checkpointId = checkpointCoordinator.getPendingCheckpoints().keySet().iterator().next();
acknowledgePendingCheckpoint(scheduler, checkpointId);
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobGraph.getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
final List<ExecutionVertexID> deployedExecutionVertices = testExecutionVertexOperations.getDeployedVertices();
// the first task failover should be skipped on state restore failure
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId));
// a global failure should be triggered on state restore failure
masterHook.disableFailOnRestore();
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(deployedExecutionVertices, contains(executionVertexId, executionVertexId));
}
@Test
public void testInputConstraintALLPerf() throws Exception {
final int parallelism = 1000;
final JobVertex v1 = createVertexWithAllInputConstraints("vertex1", parallelism);
final JobVertex v2 = createVertexWithAllInputConstraints("vertex2", parallelism);
final JobVertex v3 = createVertexWithAllInputConstraints("vertex3", parallelism);
v2.connectNewDataSetAsInput(v1, DistributionPattern.ALL_TO_ALL, ResultPartitionType.BLOCKING);
v2.connectNewDataSetAsInput(v3, DistributionPattern.ALL_TO_ALL, ResultPartitionType.BLOCKING);
final JobGraph jobGraph = new JobGraph(v1, v2, v3);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final AccessExecutionJobVertex ejv1 = scheduler.requestJob().getAllVertices().get(v1.getID());
for (int i = 0; i < parallelism - 1; i++) {
finishSubtask(scheduler, ejv1, i);
}
final long startTime = System.nanoTime();
finishSubtask(scheduler, ejv1, parallelism - 1);
final Duration duration = Duration.ofNanos(System.nanoTime() - startTime);
final Duration timeout = Duration.ofSeconds(5);
assertThat(duration, lessThan(timeout));
}
@Test
public void failJobWillIncrementVertexVersions() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexID onlyExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexVersion executionVertexVersion = executionVertexVersioner.getExecutionVertexVersion(
onlyExecutionVertexId);
scheduler.failJob(new FlinkException("Test failure."));
assertTrue(executionVertexVersioner.isModified(executionVertexVersion));
}
@Test
public void cancelJobWillIncrementVertexVersions() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexID onlyExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexVersion executionVertexVersion = executionVertexVersioner.getExecutionVertexVersion(
onlyExecutionVertexId);
scheduler.cancel();
assertTrue(executionVertexVersioner.isModified(executionVertexVersion));
}
@Test
public void suspendJobWillIncrementVertexVersions() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobVertex onlyJobVertex = getOnlyJobVertex(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexID onlyExecutionVertexId = new ExecutionVertexID(onlyJobVertex.getID(), 0);
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertexVersion executionVertexVersion = executionVertexVersioner.getExecutionVertexVersion(
onlyExecutionVertexId);
scheduler.suspend(new Exception("forced suspend"));
assertTrue(executionVertexVersioner.isModified(executionVertexVersion));
}
@Test
public void jobStatusIsRestartingIfOneVertexIsWaitingForRestart() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleJobVertexJobGraph(2);
final JobID jobId = jobGraph.getJobID();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final Iterator<ArchivedExecutionVertex> vertexIterator = scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices().iterator();
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId1 = vertexIterator.next().getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId2 = vertexIterator.next().getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobId, attemptId1, ExecutionState.FAILED, new RuntimeException("expected")));
final JobStatus jobStatusAfterFirstFailure = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobId, attemptId2, ExecutionState.FAILED, new RuntimeException("expected")));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerNonPeriodicScheduledTask();
final JobStatus jobStatusWithPendingRestarts = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
taskRestartExecutor.triggerNonPeriodicScheduledTask();
final JobStatus jobStatusAfterRestarts = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
assertThat(jobStatusAfterFirstFailure, equalTo(JobStatus.RESTARTING));
assertThat(jobStatusWithPendingRestarts, equalTo(JobStatus.RESTARTING));
assertThat(jobStatusAfterRestarts, equalTo(JobStatus.RUNNING));
}
@Test
public void cancelWhileRestartingShouldWaitForRunningTasks() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleJobVertexJobGraph(2);
final JobID jobid = jobGraph.getJobID();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final SchedulingTopology topology = scheduler.getSchedulingTopology();
final Iterator<ArchivedExecutionVertex> vertexIterator = scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices().iterator();
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId1 = vertexIterator.next().getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId2 = vertexIterator.next().getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
final ExecutionVertexID executionVertex2 = scheduler.getExecutionVertexIdOrThrow(attemptId2);
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobid, attemptId1, ExecutionState.FAILED, new RuntimeException("expected")));
scheduler.cancel();
final ExecutionState vertex2StateAfterCancel = topology.getVertex(executionVertex2).getState();
final JobStatus statusAfterCancelWhileRestarting = scheduler.requestJobStatus();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobid, attemptId2, ExecutionState.CANCELED, new RuntimeException("expected")));
assertThat(vertex2StateAfterCancel, is(equalTo(ExecutionState.CANCELING)));
assertThat(statusAfterCancelWhileRestarting, is(equalTo(JobStatus.CANCELLING)));
assertThat(scheduler.requestJobStatus(), is(equalTo(JobStatus.CANCELED)));
}
@Test
public void failureInfoIsSetAfterTaskFailure() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph();
final JobID jobId = jobGraph.getJobID();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ArchivedExecutionVertex onlyExecutionVertex = Iterables.getOnlyElement(scheduler.requestJob().getAllExecutionVertices());
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = onlyExecutionVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
final String exceptionMessage = "expected exception";
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobId, attemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED, new RuntimeException(exceptionMessage)));
final ErrorInfo failureInfo = scheduler.requestJob().getFailureInfo();
assertThat(failureInfo, is(notNullValue()));
assertThat(failureInfo.getExceptionAsString(), containsString(exceptionMessage));
}
@Test
public void coLocationConstraintIsResetOnTaskRecovery() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = nonParallelSourceSinkJobGraph();
final JobVertex source = jobGraph.getVerticesSortedTopologicallyFromSources().get(0);
final JobVertex sink = jobGraph.getVerticesSortedTopologicallyFromSources().get(1);
final SlotSharingGroup ssg = new SlotSharingGroup();
source.setSlotSharingGroup(ssg);
sink.setSlotSharingGroup(ssg);
sink.setStrictlyCoLocatedWith(source);
final JobID jobId = jobGraph.getJobID();
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(jobGraph);
final ExecutionVertex sourceVertex = scheduler.getExecutionVertex(new ExecutionVertexID(source.getID(), 0));
final ExecutionAttemptID sourceAttemptId = sourceVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
final ExecutionVertex sinkVertex = scheduler.getExecutionVertex(new ExecutionVertexID(sink.getID(), 0));
final ExecutionAttemptID sinkAttemptId = sinkVertex.getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
// init the location constraint manually because the testExecutionSlotAllocator does not do it
sourceVertex.getLocationConstraint().setSlotRequestId(new SlotRequestId());
assertThat(sourceVertex.getLocationConstraint().getSlotRequestId(), is(notNullValue()));
final String exceptionMessage = "expected exception";
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobId, sourceAttemptId, ExecutionState.FAILED, new RuntimeException(exceptionMessage)));
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(new TaskExecutionState(jobId, sinkAttemptId, ExecutionState.CANCELED));
taskRestartExecutor.triggerScheduledTasks();
assertThat(sourceVertex.getLocationConstraint().getSlotRequestId(), is(nullValue()));
}
private static JobVertex createVertexWithAllInputConstraints(String name, int parallelism) {
final JobVertex v = new JobVertex(name);
v.setParallelism(parallelism);
v.setInvokableClass(AbstractInvokable.class);
v.setInputDependencyConstraint(InputDependencyConstraint.ALL);
return v;
}
private static void finishSubtask(DefaultScheduler scheduler, AccessExecutionJobVertex vertex, int subtask) {
final ExecutionAttemptID attemptId = vertex.getTaskVertices()[subtask].getCurrentExecutionAttempt().getAttemptId();
scheduler.updateTaskExecutionState(
new TaskExecutionState(scheduler.getJobGraph().getJobID(), attemptId, ExecutionState.FINISHED));
}
private void waitForTermination(final DefaultScheduler scheduler) throws Exception {
scheduler.getTerminationFuture().get(TIMEOUT_MS, TimeUnit.MILLISECONDS);
}
private static JobGraph singleNonParallelJobVertexJobGraph() {
return singleJobVertexJobGraph(1);
}
private static JobGraph singleJobVertexJobGraph(final int parallelism) {
final JobGraph jobGraph = new JobGraph(TEST_JOB_ID, "Testjob");
jobGraph.setScheduleMode(ScheduleMode.EAGER);
final JobVertex vertex = new JobVertex("source");
vertex.setInvokableClass(NoOpInvokable.class);
vertex.setParallelism(parallelism);
jobGraph.addVertex(vertex);
return jobGraph;
}
private static JobGraph nonParallelSourceSinkJobGraph() {
final JobGraph jobGraph = new JobGraph(TEST_JOB_ID, "Testjob");
jobGraph.setScheduleMode(ScheduleMode.EAGER);
final JobVertex source = new JobVertex("source");
source.setInvokableClass(NoOpInvokable.class);
jobGraph.addVertex(source);
final JobVertex sink = new JobVertex("sink");
sink.setInvokableClass(NoOpInvokable.class);
jobGraph.addVertex(sink);
sink.connectNewDataSetAsInput(source, DistributionPattern.POINTWISE, ResultPartitionType.PIPELINED);
return jobGraph;
}
private static JobVertex getOnlyJobVertex(final JobGraph jobGraph) {
final List<JobVertex> sortedVertices = jobGraph.getVerticesSortedTopologicallyFromSources();
Preconditions.checkState(sortedVertices.size() == 1);
return sortedVertices.get(0);
}
private DefaultScheduler createSchedulerAndStartScheduling(final JobGraph jobGraph) {
final SchedulingStrategyFactory schedulingStrategyFactory =
jobGraph.getScheduleMode() == ScheduleMode.LAZY_FROM_SOURCES ?
new LazyFromSourcesSchedulingStrategy.Factory() :
new EagerSchedulingStrategy.Factory();
try {
final DefaultScheduler scheduler = createScheduler(jobGraph, schedulingStrategyFactory);
startScheduling(scheduler);
return scheduler;
} catch (Exception e) {
throw new RuntimeException(e);
}
}
private DefaultScheduler createScheduler(
final JobGraph jobGraph,
final SchedulingStrategyFactory schedulingStrategyFactory) throws Exception {
return SchedulerTestingUtils.newSchedulerBuilder(jobGraph)
.setLogger(log)
.setIoExecutor(executor)
.setJobMasterConfiguration(configuration)
.setFutureExecutor(scheduledExecutorService)
.setDelayExecutor(taskRestartExecutor)
.setSchedulingStrategyFactory(schedulingStrategyFactory)
.setRestartBackoffTimeStrategy(testRestartBackoffTimeStrategy)
.setExecutionVertexOperations(testExecutionVertexOperations)
.setExecutionVertexVersioner(executionVertexVersioner)
.setExecutionSlotAllocatorFactory(executionSlotAllocatorFactory)
.build();
}
private void startScheduling(final SchedulerNG scheduler) {
scheduler.setMainThreadExecutor(ComponentMainThreadExecutorServiceAdapter.forMainThread());
scheduler.startScheduling();
}
/**
* Since checkpoint is triggered asynchronously, we need to figure out when checkpoint is really
* triggered.
* Note that this should be invoked before scheduler initialized.
*
* @return the latch representing checkpoint is really triggered
*/
private CountDownLatch getCheckpointTriggeredLatch() {
final CountDownLatch checkpointTriggeredLatch = new CountDownLatch(1);
final SimpleAckingTaskManagerGateway taskManagerGateway = new SimpleAckingTaskManagerGateway();
testExecutionSlotAllocator.getLogicalSlotBuilder().setTaskManagerGateway(taskManagerGateway);
taskManagerGateway.setCheckpointConsumer(
(executionAttemptID, jobId, checkpointId, timestamp, checkpointOptions, advanceToEndOfEventTime) -> {
checkpointTriggeredLatch.countDown();
});
return checkpointTriggeredLatch;
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: (CNN) White House national security adviser HR McMaster said Saturday that North Korea represents "the greatest immediate threat to the United States" and that the potential for war with the communist nation is growing each day.
"I think it's increasing every day, which means that we are in a race, really, we are in a race to be able to solve this problem," McMaster told an audience at the Reagan National Defense Forum in Simi Valley, California when asked if North Korea's launch of an intercontinental ballistic missile Tuesday had increased the chance of war.
President Donald Trump remains committed to the complete denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula, McMaster said, adding that there are nonmilitary ways to deal with the issue, such as calling on China to impose greater economic sanctions against Pyongyang. McMaster noted that Beijing's "tremendous coercive economic power" over North Korea.
"There are ways to address this problem short of armed conflict, but it is a race because he's getting closer and closer, and there's not much time left," McMaster said, referring to North Korean leader Kim Jong Un. With every missile launch or nuclear test, Kim has improved his country's capabilities, McMaster said.
"We're asking China not to do us or anybody else a favor," he said. "We're asking China to act in China's interest, as they should, and we believe increasingly that it's in China's urgent interest to do more."
Read More ||||| With reporters looking for updates, Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., and other senators rush to the chamber to vote on amendments as the Republican leadership works to craft their sweeping tax bill, on Capitol... (Associated Press)
With reporters looking for updates, Sen. Lindsey Graham, R-S.C., and other senators rush to the chamber to vote on amendments as the Republican leadership works to craft their sweeping tax bill, on Capitol... (Associated Press)
WASHINGTON (AP) — Sen. Lindsey Graham said Sunday that he believes it's time to start moving the families of American military personnel out of South Korea as North Korea pushes the U.S. closer to a military conflict.
Graham, a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee, said he will also urge the Pentagon not to send any more dependents to South Korea.
"It's crazy to send spouses and children to South Korea, given the provocation of North Korea. South Korea should be an unaccompanied tour," the South Carolina Republican said on CBS' "Face the Nation." ''So, I want them to stop sending dependents, and I think it's now time to start moving American dependents out of South Korea."
About 28,500 U.S. troops are stationed in South Korea to deter potential aggression from the North.
Last week, North Korea shattered 2½ months of relative quiet by firing off an intercontinental ballistic missile that some observers say showed the reclusive country's ability to strike the U.S. East Coast. It was North Korea's most powerful weapons test yet.
The launch was a message of defiance to President Donald Trump's administration, which a week earlier had restored North Korea to a U.S. list of terror sponsors. It also hurt nascent diplomatic efforts and raised fears of a pre-emptive U.S. strike. Threats traded by Trump and North Korean leader Kim Jong Un have further stoked fears of war.
Graham expressed confidence in the Trump administration's ability to manage the growing conflict with North Korea.
"He's got the best national security team of anybody I have seen since I have been in Washington," said Graham, who has served in Congress since 1995.
The Trump administration has vowed to deny North Korea the capability of striking the U.S. homeland with a nuclear-tipped missile.
"Denial means pre-emptive war as a last resort. The pre-emption is becoming more likely as their technology matures," Graham told CBS. "I think we're really running out of time. The Chinese are trying, but ineffectively. If there's an underground nuclear test, then you need to get ready for a very serious response by the United States."
Trump has said he spoke with Chinese President Xi Jinping about Pyongyang's "provocative actions," and he vowed that additional major sanctions will be imposed on North Korea. China is North Korea's only significant ally, but it has grown increasingly frustrated over the North's nuclear and missile tests that have brought a threat of war and chaos to China's northeastern border.
Summary: – Over two days, two sets of strong words about North Korea. During a Saturday speech in California, White House national security adviser HR McMaster said the possibility of war with the Hermit Kingdom is "increasing every day, which means that we are in a race, really, we are in a race to be able to solve this problem." And as far as problems go, he believes there are none bigger for the US, and there's "not much time left," per CNN. He called on China to step up to the plate and choke the flow of oil into North Korea, noting, "you can't shoot a missile without fuel." He specified that he and President Trump agree a total oil embargo would "be appropriate at this point." He reiterated the call for China to step up while appearing on Fox News Sunday, but added, "If necessary, the president and the United States will have to take care of it." Sen. Lindsey Graham set his sights on North Korea, too, while appearing on CBS' Face the Nation Sunday, conveying his belief that it's time to pull the families of the 28,500 US troops stationed in South Korea out of the country, reports the AP. Graham, a member of the Senate Armed Services Committee, also noted he would press the Pentagon to refrain from sending dependents to South Korea going forward. "It's crazy to send spouses and children to South Korea, given the provocation of North Korea. South Korea should be an unaccompanied tour." Graham also expressed confidence in the Trump administration, saying the president has "the best national security team of anybody I have seen since I have been in Washington"; Graham has been in Congress since 1995.
|
{
"task_name": "multi_news"
}
|
package com.getirkit.example.activity;
/**
* Created by eqiglii on 2016/1/27.
*/
import java.io.BufferedReader;
import java.io.File;
import java.io.FileNotFoundException;
import java.io.FileOutputStream;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.io.InputStream;
import java.io.InputStreamReader;
import java.util.Calendar;
import android.app.Activity;
import android.app.AlarmManager;
import android.app.PendingIntent;
import android.app.TimePickerDialog;
import android.app.TimePickerDialog.OnTimeSetListener;
import android.content.Context;
import android.content.Intent;
import android.os.Build;
import android.os.Bundle;
import android.support.v4.widget.SimpleCursorAdapter;
import android.support.v7.app.AppCompatActivity;
import android.util.Log;
import android.view.Menu;
import android.view.MenuInflater;
import android.view.MenuItem;
import android.view.View;
import android.view.View.OnClickListener;
import android.widget.AdapterView;
import android.widget.ArrayAdapter;
import android.widget.Button;
import android.widget.EditText;
import android.widget.ListView;
import android.widget.TextView;
import android.widget.TimePicker;
import com.getirkit.example.R;
import com.getirkit.example.adapter.SignalListAdapter;
import com.getirkit.example.fragment.SelectScheduleActionDialogFragment;
import com.getirkit.irkit.IRKit;
public class ScheduleActivity extends AppCompatActivity
implements SelectScheduleActionDialogFragment.SelectScheduleActionDialogFragmentListener {
public static final String TAG = ScheduleActivity.class.getSimpleName();
TimePicker myTimePicker;
Button buttonstartSetDialog;
TextView textAlarmPrompt;
ListView scheduleListView;
TimePickerDialog timePickerDialog;
private int selectedSignalPosition = -1;
private String signalName = "";
private String click_filename = "";
/** Called when the activity is first created. */
@Override
public void onCreate(Bundle savedInstanceState) {
super.onCreate(savedInstanceState);
setResult(RESULT_CANCELED);
Intent intent = getIntent();
Bundle args = intent.getExtras();
// Use savedInstanceState if it exists
if (savedInstanceState != null) {
args = savedInstanceState;
}
setContentView(R.layout.activity_schedule);
getSupportActionBar().setDisplayHomeAsUpEnabled(true);
if (args == null) {
throw new IllegalArgumentException("extras are not passed via Intent");
}
selectedSignalPosition = args.getInt("selectedSignalPosition");
signalName = args.getString("signalName");
if (signalName == "" || selectedSignalPosition == -1) {
throw new IllegalArgumentException("signal attribute is not passed via Intent");
}
textAlarmPrompt = (TextView)findViewById(R.id.alarmprompt);
buttonstartSetDialog = (Button)findViewById(R.id.startSetDialog);
buttonstartSetDialog.setOnClickListener(new View.OnClickListener() {
@Override
public void onClick(View v) {
textAlarmPrompt.setText("");
openTimePickerDialog(true);
}
});
displaySchedule();
}
private void openTimePickerDialog(boolean is24r){
Calendar calendar = Calendar.getInstance();
timePickerDialog = new TimePickerDialog(
ScheduleActivity.this,
onTimeSetListener,
calendar.get(Calendar.HOUR_OF_DAY),
calendar.get(Calendar.MINUTE),
is24r);
timePickerDialog.setTitle("Set Alarm Schedule");
timePickerDialog.show();
}
OnTimeSetListener onTimeSetListener
= new OnTimeSetListener(){
@Override
public void onTimeSet(TimePicker view, int hourofDay, int minute) {
addSchedule(hourofDay, minute);
};
};
public void addSchedule(int hour, int minute) {
if (selectedSignalPosition == -1) {
return;
}
// 1. Wake up the device to fire the alarm at approximately 6:00 a.m., and repeat once a day at the same time:
// e.g. Set the alarm to start at approximately 6:30 a.m.
int scheduleTime = hour*100 + minute; // scheduled time must be unique in order to avoid multiple alarm conflicts
Calendar calNow = Calendar.getInstance();
Calendar calSet = (Calendar) calNow.clone();
calSet.set(Calendar.HOUR_OF_DAY, hour);
calSet.set(Calendar.MINUTE, minute);
calSet.set(Calendar.SECOND, 0);
calSet.set(Calendar.MILLISECOND, 0);
if(calSet.compareTo(calNow) <= 0){
//Today Set time passed, count to tomorrow
calSet.add(Calendar.DATE, 1);
}
// Use AlarmManager for managing alarms
AlarmManager alarmMgr = (AlarmManager) getSystemService(Context.ALARM_SERVICE);
Intent intent = new Intent(this, AlarmReceiver.class);
int alarmId = (selectedSignalPosition + 1) * scheduleTime; // identity of the alarm, must be unique
// the alarm shall identify a file that is going to persist the "selectedSignalPosition" value, for that particular alarm
String filename = signalName + "," + String.valueOf(scheduleTime); // filename is "signalName,630"
intent.putExtra("filename", filename);
// With setInexactRepeating(), you have to use one of the AlarmManager interval
// constants--in this case, AlarmManager.INTERVAL_DAY.
PendingIntent alarmIntent = PendingIntent.getBroadcast(this, alarmId, intent, 0);
alarmMgr.setRepeating (AlarmManager.RTC_WAKEUP, calSet.getTimeInMillis(),
AlarmManager.INTERVAL_DAY, alarmIntent);
// 2. Persist the "selectedSignalPosition" into the alarm-identified-specific file
String string = String.valueOf(selectedSignalPosition); // filecontent is "selectedSignalPosition"
FileOutputStream outputStream;
try {
outputStream = openFileOutput(filename, Context.MODE_PRIVATE);
outputStream.write(string.getBytes());
outputStream.close();
} catch (Exception e) {
e.printStackTrace();
}
textAlarmPrompt.setText(
"\n\n***\n"
+ "Alarm is set@ " + calSet.getTime() + "\n"
+ "***\n");
// refresh the schedule listview
displaySchedule();
}
public void displaySchedule() {
// Read the alarm list from the private file
final String[] filenames = fileList();
// Display the view list
scheduleListView = (ListView) findViewById(R.id.schedule__listview);
// Define a new Adapter
// First parameter - Context
// Second parameter - Layout for the row
// Third parameter - ID of the TextView to which the data is written
// Forth - the Array of data
ArrayAdapter<String> adapter = new ArrayAdapter<String>(this,
android.R.layout.simple_list_item_1, android.R.id.text1, filenames);
scheduleListView.setAdapter(adapter);
scheduleListView.setOnItemClickListener(new AdapterView.OnItemClickListener() {
@Override
public void onItemClick(AdapterView<?> parent, View view, int position, long id) {
String itemValue = (String) scheduleListView.getItemAtPosition(position);
click_filename = itemValue;
SelectScheduleActionDialogFragment dialog = new SelectScheduleActionDialogFragment();
dialog.show(getSupportFragmentManager(), "SelectScheduleActionDialogFragment");
}
});
}
@Override
public void onSelectScheduleActionDelete() {
if (click_filename.isEmpty()){
Log.e(TAG, "File name is empty, nothing to be deleted");
return;
}
// first split the filename and get the scheduleTime
int scheduleTime = 0;
if (click_filename.contains(",")) {
String[] parts = click_filename.split(","); // filename is "signalName,630"
String part1 = parts[0]; // signalName
String part2 = parts[1]; // 630
try {
scheduleTime = Integer.valueOf(part2);
}
catch(NumberFormatException e) {
System.out.println("parse value is not valid : " + e);
}
} else {
try {
scheduleTime = Integer.valueOf(click_filename); // // filename is "630"
}
catch(NumberFormatException e) {
System.out.println("parse value is not valid : " + e);
}
}
// then read the persisted "selectedSignalPosition" from the file created by "onSelectSignalActionSchedule()"
String readfromFile = ""; // for store the "selectedSignalPosition"
try {
InputStream inputStream = openFileInput(click_filename);
if ( inputStream != null ) {
InputStreamReader inputStreamReader = new InputStreamReader(inputStream);
BufferedReader bufferedReader = new BufferedReader(inputStreamReader);
String receiveString = "";
StringBuilder stringBuilder = new StringBuilder();
while ( (receiveString = bufferedReader.readLine()) != null ) {
stringBuilder.append(receiveString);
}
inputStream.close();
readfromFile = stringBuilder.toString();
}
}
catch (FileNotFoundException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "File not found: " + e.toString());
} catch (IOException e) {
Log.e(TAG, "Can not read file: " + e.toString());
}
// pass the value to "selectedSignalPosition"
int signalPosition = 0;
try {
signalPosition = Integer.valueOf(readfromFile);
}
catch(NumberFormatException e) {
System.out.println("parse value is not valid : " + e);
}
// constract the alarmId
int alarmId = (signalPosition + 1) * scheduleTime; // identity of the alarm, must be unique
// Use AlarmManager for managing alarms
AlarmManager alarmMgr = (AlarmManager) getSystemService(Context.ALARM_SERVICE);
Intent intent = new Intent(this, AlarmReceiver.class);
// With setInexactRepeating(), you have to use one of the AlarmManager interval
// constants--in this case, AlarmManager.INTERVAL_DAY.
PendingIntent alarmIntent = PendingIntent.getBroadcast(this, alarmId, intent, 0);
// If the alarm has been set, cancel it.
if (alarmMgr!= null) {
alarmMgr.cancel(alarmIntent);
}
// Also delete the file persisted for that scheduler
File dir = getFilesDir();
File file = new File(dir, click_filename);
boolean deleted = file.delete();
Log.v("log_tag", "file deleted: " + deleted);
// refresh the schedule listview
displaySchedule();
}
@Override
public boolean onCreateOptionsMenu(Menu menu) {
// Inflate the menu items for use in the action bar
MenuInflater inflater = getMenuInflater();
inflater.inflate(R.menu.schedule_activity_actions, menu);
return super.onCreateOptionsMenu(menu);
}
@Override
public boolean onOptionsItemSelected(MenuItem item) {
int id = item.getItemId();
if (id == android.R.id.home) {
Intent resultIntent = new Intent();
resultIntent.putExtra("back_to_home", true);
setResult(RESULT_CANCELED, resultIntent);
finish();
return true;
} else if (id == R.id.activity_schedule__action_close) {
Intent resultIntent = new Intent();
Bundle args = new Bundle();
args.putString("action", "close");
resultIntent.putExtras(args);
setResult(RESULT_OK, resultIntent);
finish();
return true;
}
return super.onOptionsItemSelected(item);
}
@Override
public void onActivityResult(int requestCode, int resultCode, Intent data) {
super.onActivityResult(requestCode, resultCode, data);
if (resultCode == Activity.RESULT_OK) {
}
}
@Override
public void onBackPressed() {
super.onBackPressed();
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
History of Beijing
The city of Beijing has a long and rich history that dates back over 3,000 years. Prior to the unification of China by the First Emperor in 221 BC, Beijing had been for centuries the capital of the ancient states of Ji and Yan. During the first millennia of imperial rule, Beijing was a provincial city in northern China. Its stature grew in the 10th to the 13th centuries when the nomadic Khitan and forest - dwelling Jurchen peoples from beyond the Great Wall expanded southward and made the city a capital of their dynasties, the Liao and Jin. When Kublai Khan made Dadu the capital of the Mongol - led Yuan dynasty (1279 -- 1368), all of China was ruled from Beijing for the first time. From 1279 onward, with the exception of two interludes from 1368 to 1420 and 1928 to 1949, Beijing would remain as China's capital, serving as the seat of power for the Ming dynasty (1421 -- 1644), the Manchu - led Qing dynasty (1644 -- 1912), the early Republic of China (1912 -- 1928) and now the People's Republic of China (1949 -- present).
Passage 2:
List of Olympic Games host cities
This is a list of host cities of the Olympic Games, both summer and winter, since the modern Olympics began in 1896. Since then, summer games have usually -- but not always -- celebrated a four - year period known as an Olympiad. There have been 28 Summer Olympic Games held in 24 cities, and 23 Winter Olympic Games held in 20 cities. In addition, three summer and two winter editions of the Games were scheduled to take place but later cancelled due to war: Berlin (summer) in 1916; Tokyo / Helsinki (summer) and Sapporo / Garmisch - Partenkirchen (winter) in 1940; and London (summer) and Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy (winter) in 1944. The 1906 Summer Olympics were officially sanctioned and held in Athens. However, in 1949, the International Olympic Committee (IOC), decided to unrecognize the 1906 Games. Four cities have been chosen by the IOC to host upcoming Olympic Games: Tokyo for the 2020 Summer Olympics, Beijing for the 2022 Winter Olympics, Paris for the 2024 Summer Olympics, and Los Angeles for the 2028 Summer Olympics.
Passage 3:
2008 Summer Olympics
Seven years after the 2008 Games, Beijing was awarded the 2022 Winter Olympics. It will thus be the first city to host both the Summer and Winter Games.
Passage 4:
China at the Olympics
The People's Republic of China has hosted the Games on one occasion, with a second Games scheduled for 2022. Beijing will be the first city to host both Summer and Winter Olympics.
Passage 5:
List of Olympic Games host cities
Below is a list of host cities of the Olympic Games, both summer and winter, since the modern Olympics began in 1896. Since then, summer games have usually -- but not always -- celebrated a four - year period known as an Olympiad. There have been 28 Summer Olympic Games held in 23 cities, and 23 Winter Olympic Games held in 20 cities. In addition, three summer and two winter editions of the Games were scheduled to take place but later cancelled due to war: Berlin (summer) in 1916; Tokyo / Helsinki (summer) and Sapporo / Garmisch - Partenkirchen (winter) in 1940; and London (summer) and Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy (winter) in 1944. The 1906 Summer Olympics were officially sanctioned and held in Athens. However, in 1949, the International Olympic Committee (IOC), decided to unrecognize the 1906 Games. Four cities have been chosen by the IOC to host upcoming Olympic Games: Tokyo for the 2020 Summer Olympics, Beijing for the 2022 Winter Olympics, Paris for the 2024 Summer Olympics, and Los Angeles for the 2028 Summer Olympics.
Passage 6:
2018 Winter Olympics
Pyeongchang was elected as the host city in July 2011, during the 123rd IOC Session in Durban, South Africa. This was the first time that South Korea had hosted the Winter Olympics and the second Olympics held in the country overall, after the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul. It was the third time that an East Asian country had hosted the Winter Games, after Sapporo (1972) and Nagano (1998), both in Japan. It was also the first of three consecutive Olympics to be held in East Asia, the other two being the 2020 Summer Olympics in Tokyo and the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing.
Passage 7:
List of Olympic Games host cities
In 2022, Beijing will become the only city that has held both the summer and the winter Olympic Games. Nine cities will have hosted the Olympic Games more than once: Athens (1896 and 2004 Summer Olympics), Paris (1900, 1924 and 2024 Summer Olympics), London (1908, 1948 and 2012 Summer Olympics), St. Moritz (1928 and 1948 Winter Olympics), Lake Placid (1932 and 1980 Winter Olympics), Los Angeles (1932, 1984 and 2028 Summer Olympics), Innsbruck (1964 and 1976 Winter Olympics), Tokyo (1964 and 2020 Summer Olympics) and Beijing (2008 Summer Olympics and 2022 Winter Olympics). In addition, Stockholm hosted the 1912 Summer Olympics and the equestrian portion of the 1956 Summer Olympics. London became the first city to have hosted three Games with the 2012 Summer Olympics. Paris will become the second city to do this with the 2024 Summer Olympics, followed by Los Angeles as the third in 2028. The United States has hosted a total of eight Olympic Games, more than any other country, followed by France with five editions. Canada, Germany, Italy, Japan, and the United Kingdom have each hosted three Games.
Passage 8:
Winter Olympic Games
The Winter Olympics has been hosted on three continents by eleven different countries. The Games have been held in the United States four times (1932, 1960, 1980, 2002); in France three times (1924, 1968, 1992); and in Austria (1964, 1976), Canada (1988, 2010), Japan (1972, 1998), Italy (1956, 2006), Norway (1952, 1994), and Switzerland (1928, 1948) twice. Also, the Games have been held in Germany (1936), Yugoslavia (1984), and Russia (2014) once. The IOC has selected Pyeongchang, South Korea, to host the 2018 Winter Olympics and Beijing, China, to host the 2022 Winter Olympics. As of 2017 no city in the southern hemisphere had applied to host the cold - weather - dependent Winter Olympics, which are held in February at the height of the southern hemisphere summer.
Passage 9:
Winter Olympic Games
The Winter Olympics has been hosted on three continents by twelve different countries. The Games have been held four times in the United States (in 1932, 1960, 1980 and 2002); three times in France (in 1924, 1968 and 1992); and twice each in Austria (1964, 1976), Canada (1988, 2010), Japan (1972, 1998), Italy (1956, 2006), Norway (1952, 1994), and Switzerland (1928, 1948). Also, the Games have been held just once each in Germany (1936), Yugoslavia (1984), Russia (2014) and South Korea (2018). The IOC has selected Beijing, China, to host the 2022 Winter Olympics and the host of the 2026 Winter Olympics will be selected in September 2019. As of 2018, no city in the southern hemisphere has applied to host the cold - weather - dependent Winter Olympics, which are held in February at the height of the southern hemisphere summer.
Passage 10:
2020 Summer Olympics
The 2020 Summer Olympics, officially known as the Games of the XXXII Olympiad (Japanese: 第三十二回オリンピック競技大会, Hepburn: Dai Sanjūni - kai Orinpikku Kyōgi Taikai) and commonly known as Tokyo 2020, is a forthcoming international multi-sport event that is scheduled to take place from 24 July to 9 August 2020. Tokyo was selected as the host city during the 125th IOC Session in Buenos Aires on 7 September 2013. This will be the second time the Summer Games have been held in Tokyo, the first time being the 1964 Summer Olympics, and the fourth time that Japan has hosted the Olympics overall, following the Winter Olympics held in Sapporo in 1972 and Nagano in 1998. They will be the second of three consecutive Olympic Games to be held in East Asia, following the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, and preceding the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing, China.
Passage 11:
China at the Olympics
Games Host city Dates Nations Participants Events 2008 Summer Olympics Beijing 8 -- 24 August 204 10,942 302 2022 Winter Olympics Beijing 4 -- 20 February
Passage 12:
Biathlon at the 1968 Winter Olympics
Biathlon at the 1968 Winter Olympics consisted of two biathlon events, held at Autrans. The events began on 9 February and ended on 11 February 1968. This was the first Olympics to feature more than one biathlon race, as the 4 x 7.5 kilometre relay made its debut.
Passage 13:
Winter Olympic Games
The Olympic Winter Games (official name) (French: Jeux olympiques d'hiver) is a major international sporting event held once every four years, for sports practised on snow and ice. The first Winter Olympics, the 1924 Winter Olympics, was held in Chamonix, France. The original five sports (broken into nine disciplines) were bobsleigh, curling, ice hockey, Nordic skiing (consisting of the disciplines military patrol, cross-country skiing, Nordic combined, and ski jumping), and skating (consisting of the disciplines figure skating and speed skating). The Games were held every four years from 1924 to 1936, interrupted in 1940 and 1944 by World War II, and resumed in 1948. Until 1992 the Winter and Summer Olympic Games were held in the same years, but in accordance with a 1986 decision by the International Olympic Committee (IOC) to place the Summer and Winter Games on separate four - year cycles in alternating even - numbered years, the next Winter Olympics after 1992 was in 1994.
Passage 14:
2020 Summer Olympics
Tokyo was selected as the host city during the 125th IOC Session in Buenos Aires on 7 September 2013. These Games will mark the return of the Summer Olympics to Tokyo for the first time since 1964, and the fourth Olympics overall to be held in Japan, following the 1972 Winter Olympics in Sapporo and the 1998 Winter Olympics in Nagano. They will be the second of three consecutive Olympic Games to be held in East Asia, following the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, and preceding the 2022 Winter Olympics in Beijing, China.
Passage 15:
List of Olympic Games host cities
This is a list of host cities of the Olympic Games, both summer and winter, since the modern Olympics began in 1896. Since then, summer games have usually -- but not always -- celebrated a four - year period known as an Olympiad. There have been 28 Summer Olympic Games held in 23 cities, and 23 Winter Olympic Games held in 20 cities. In addition, three summer and two winter editions of the Games were scheduled to take place but later cancelled due to war: Berlin (summer) in 1916; Tokyo / Helsinki (summer) and Sapporo / Garmisch - Partenkirchen (winter) in 1940; and London (summer) and Cortina d'Ampezzo, Italy (winter) in 1944. The 1906 Summer Olympics were officially sanctioned and held in Athens. However, in 1949, the International Olympic Committee (IOC), decided to unrecognize the 1906 Games. Four cities have been chosen by the IOC to host upcoming Olympic Games: Tokyo for the 2020 Summer Olympics, Beijing for the 2022 Winter Olympics, Paris for the 2024 Summer Olympics, and Los Angeles for the 2028 Summer Olympics.
Passage 16:
2018 Winter Olympics
The 2018 Winter Olympics, officially known as the XXIII Olympic Winter Games (Korean: 제 23 회동계올림픽, translit. Jeisipsamhoe Donggye Ollimpik) and commonly known as PyeongChang 2018, was a major multi-sport event held between 9 and 25 February 2018 in Pyeongchang County, Gangwon Province, South Korea, with the opening rounds for certain events held on 8 February 2018, the eve of the opening ceremony. Pyeongchang was elected as the host city in July 2011, during the 123rd IOC Session in Durban, South Africa. This marks the first time South Korea has hosted the Winter Olympics, and the second time the Olympic games have been held in the country, after the 1988 Summer Olympics in Seoul. It also marks the third time East Asia has hosted the Winter Games, after Sapporo, Japan (1972), and Nagano, Japan (1998), and the sixth overall Olympic Games held in East Asia. It was the first of three consecutive Olympic Games to be held in East Asia, preceding Tokyo 2020 (Summer) and Beijing 2022 (Winter).
Passage 17:
2022 Winter Olympics
The 2022 Winter Olympics, officially known as the XXIV Olympic Winter Games (French: Les XXIV Jeux olympiques d'hiver; Chinese: 第二十四届冬季奥林匹克运动会; pinyin: Dì Èrshísì Jiè Dōngjì Àolínpǐkè Yùndònghuì), and commonly known as Beijing 2022, is an international winter multi-sport event that is scheduled to take place from 4 to 20 February 2022, in Beijing and towns in the neighboring Hebei province, People's Republic of China.
Passage 18:
Sun Zhifeng
Sun Zhifeng (; born July 17, 1991 in Changchun) is a snowboarder who competes in Half-pipe. She has two World Cup victories and competed at the 2006 Winter Olympics. Sun competed for China at the 2010 Winter Olympics in women's Half-pipe.
Passage 19:
2010 Winter Olympics
Approximately 2,600 athletes from 82 nations participated in 86 events in fifteen disciplines. Both the Olympic and Paralympic Games were organized by the Vancouver Organizing Committee (VANOC), headed by John Furlong. The 2010 Winter Olympics were the third Olympics hosted by Canada and the first by the province of British Columbia. Canada hosted the 1976 Summer Olympics in Montreal, Quebec, and the 1988 Winter Olympics in Calgary, Alberta. Metro Vancouver is the largest metropolitan area to host the Winter Olympics, although Calgary is the largest city to host the Winter Olympics. They will both be surpassed by Beijing in 2022.
Passage 20:
Ice hockey at the Olympic Games
Ice hockey tournaments have been staged at the Olympic Games since 1920. The men's tournament was introduced at the 1920 Summer Olympics and was transferred permanently to the Winter Olympic Games program in 1924, in France. The women's tournament was first held at the 1998 Winter Olympics.
Question: When was the city, where the Winter Olympics will be in 2022, made the capital of China?
Answer: 1279
|
{
"task_name": "MuSiQue"
}
|
Passage 1:
Abe Meyer
Abe Meyer( 1901 – 1969) was an American composer of film scores.
Passage 2:
Minor Mappillai
Minor Mappillai( lit. Minor son- in- law) is a 1996 Tamil comedy film directed by V. C. Guhunathan starring Ajith Kumar and Ranjith in the leading roles. The film featured Rajkumar, Subhashree, Keerthana and Bharathi, while Vivek appeared in a supporting role. It was released on 28 June 1996. The film was a remake of director's own Telugu film" Paruvu Prathishta".
Passage 3:
Walter Ulfig
Walter Ulfig was a German composer of film scores.
Passage 4:
Henri Verdun
Henri Verdun( 1895–1977) was a French composer of film scores.
Passage 5:
Paruvu-Prathishta
Paruvu-Prathishta (English: "Honour – Prestige") is a 1963 Telugu language drama film, produced by Jupudi Venkateswara Rao under the Valta Productions banner and directed by Manapuram Appa Rao. It stars N. T. Rama Rao, Anjali Devi with music composed by Pendyala Nageswara Rao.
Passage 6:
Tarcisio Fusco
Tarcisio Fusco was an Italian composer of film scores. He was the brother of the composer Giovanni Fusco and the uncle of operatic soprano Cecilia Fusco.
Passage 7:
Alonso Mudarra
Alonso Mudarra( c. 1510 – April 1, 1580) was a Spanish composer of the Renaissance, and also played the vihuela, a guitar- shaped string instrument. He was an innovative composer of instrumental music as well as songs, and was the composer of the earliest surviving music for the guitar.
Passage 8:
Theodred II (Bishop of Elmham)
Theodred II was a medieval Bishop of Elmham. The date of Theodred's consecration unknown, but the date of his death was sometime between 995 and 997.
Passage 9:
Bert Grund
Bert Grund( 1920–1992) was a German composer of film scores.
Passage 10:
Pendyala Nageswara Rao
Pendyala Nageswara Rao (Telugu: పెండ్యాల నాగేశ్వరరావు) (6 March 1917 – 31 August 1984) was an Indian composer, multi instrumentalist, conductor singer-songwriter, actor, music producer, and musician known for his works predominantly in Telugu cinema, and Kannada cinema.
Question: When was the composer of film Paruvu-Prathishta born?
Answer: 6 March 1917
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
Theodred II (Bishop of Elmham)
Theodred II was a medieval Bishop of Elmham. The date of Theodred's consecration unknown, but the date of his death was sometime between 995 and 997.
Passage 2:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 3:
Harry Wainwright (footballer)
Harry Wainwright( born 1899; date of death unknown) was an English footballer.
Passage 4:
Innocents in Paris
Innocents in Paris is a 1953 British-French international co-production comedy film produced by Romulus Films, directed by Gordon Parry and starring Alastair Sim, Ronald Shiner, Claire Bloom, Margaret Rutherford, Claude Dauphin, and Jimmy Edwards, and also featuring James Copeland. Popular French comedy actor Louis de Funès appears as a taxi driver, and there are uncredited appearances by Christopher Lee, Laurence Harvey and Kenneth Williams. The writer and producer was Anatole de Grunwald, born in Russia in 1910, who fled to Britain with his parents in 1917. He had a long career there as a writer and producer, including the films " The Way to the StarsThe Winslow BoyDoctor's DilemmaLibel", and "The Yellow Rolls Royce".
Passage 5:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 6:
Louis-Jean Pin
Louis- Jean Pin( born 1734, date of death unknown) was a French comic- actor and theatre director. He was born in Paris.
Passage 7:
Etan Boritzer
Etan Boritzer( born 1950) is an American writer of children ’s literature who is best known for his book" What is God?" first published in 1989. His best selling" What is?" illustrated children's book series on character education and difficult subjects for children is a popular teaching guide for parents, teachers and child- life professionals. Boritzer gained national critical acclaim after" What is God?" was published in 1989 although the book has caused controversy from religious fundamentalists for its universalist views. The other current books in the" What is?" series include What is Love?, What is Death?, What is Beautiful?, What is Funny?, What is Right?, What is Peace?, What is Money?, What is Dreaming?, What is a Friend?, What is True?, What is a Family?, What is a Feeling?" The series is now also translated into 15 languages. Boritzer was first published in 1963 at the age of 13 when he wrote an essay in his English class at Wade Junior High School in the Bronx, New York on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. His essay was included in a special anthology by New York City public school children compiled and published by the New York City Department of Education. Boritzer now lives in Venice, California and maintains his publishing office there also. He has helped numerous other authors to get published through" How to Get Your Book Published!" programs. Boritzer is also a yoga teacher who teaches regular classes locally and guest- teaches nationally. He is also recognized nationally as an erudite speaker on" The Teachings of the Buddha."
Passage 8:
Bill Smith (footballer, born 1897)
William Thomas Smith( born 9 April 1897, date of death unknown) was an English professional footballer.
Passage 9:
Gordon Parry (film director)
Gordon Parry (24 July 1908 – 6 May 1981) was a British film director and producer.
Passage 10:
Thomas Scott (diver)
Thomas Scott( 1907- date of death unknown) was an English diver.
Question: What is the date of death of the director of film Innocents In Paris?
Answer: 6 May 1981
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
// Licensed to the .NET Foundation under one or more agreements.
// The .NET Foundation licenses this file to you under the MIT license.
// See the LICENSE file in the project root for more information.
using System.Diagnostics;
using System.Runtime.InteropServices;
using System.Text;
namespace System
{
internal static class IriHelper
{
//
// Checks if provided non surrogate char lies in iri range
//
internal static bool CheckIriUnicodeRange(char unicode, bool isQuery)
{
return ((unicode >= '\u00A0' && unicode <= '\uD7FF') ||
(unicode >= '\uF900' && unicode <= '\uFDCF') ||
(unicode >= '\uFDF0' && unicode <= '\uFFEF') ||
(isQuery && unicode >= '\uE000' && unicode <= '\uF8FF'));
}
//
// Check if highSurr and lowSurr are a surrogate pair then
// it checks if the combined char is in the range
// Takes in isQuery because iri restrictions for query are different
//
internal static bool CheckIriUnicodeRange(char highSurr, char lowSurr, ref bool surrogatePair, bool isQuery)
{
bool inRange = false;
surrogatePair = false;
Debug.Assert(char.IsHighSurrogate(highSurr));
if (char.IsSurrogatePair(highSurr, lowSurr))
{
surrogatePair = true;
ReadOnlySpan<char> chars = stackalloc char[2] { highSurr, lowSurr };
string surrPair = new string(chars);
if (((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00010000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0001FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00020000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0002FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00030000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0003FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00040000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0004FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00050000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0005FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00060000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0006FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00070000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0007FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00080000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0008FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00090000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0009FFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000A0000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000AFFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000B0000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000BFFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000C0000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000CFFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000D0000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000DFFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000E1000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000EFFFD") <= 0)) ||
(isQuery &&
(((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000F0000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U000FFFFD") <= 0)) ||
((string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U00100000") >= 0)
&& (string.CompareOrdinal(surrPair, "\U0010FFFD") <= 0)))))
{
inRange = true;
}
}
return inRange;
}
//
// Check reserved chars according to RFC 3987 in a specific component
//
internal static bool CheckIsReserved(char ch, UriComponents component)
{
if ((component != UriComponents.Scheme) &&
(component != UriComponents.UserInfo) &&
(component != UriComponents.Host) &&
(component != UriComponents.Port) &&
(component != UriComponents.Path) &&
(component != UriComponents.Query) &&
(component != UriComponents.Fragment)
)
{
return (component == (UriComponents)0) ? UriHelper.IsGenDelim(ch) : false;
}
else if (UriParser.DontEnableStrictRFC3986ReservedCharacterSets)
{
// Since we aren't enabling strict RFC 3986 reserved sets, we stick with the old behavior
// (for app-compat) which was a broken mix of RFCs 2396 and 3986.
switch (component)
{
case UriComponents.UserInfo:
if (ch == '/' || ch == '?' || ch == '#' || ch == '[' || ch == ']' || ch == '@')
return true;
break;
case UriComponents.Host:
if (ch == ':' || ch == '/' || ch == '?' || ch == '#' || ch == '[' || ch == ']' || ch == '@')
return true;
break;
case UriComponents.Path:
if (ch == '/' || ch == '?' || ch == '#' || ch == '[' || ch == ']')
return true;
break;
case UriComponents.Query:
if (ch == '#' || ch == '[' || ch == ']')
return true;
break;
case UriComponents.Fragment:
if (ch == '#' || ch == '[' || ch == ']')
return true;
break;
default:
break;
}
return false;
}
else
{
return (UriHelper.RFC3986ReservedMarks.IndexOf(ch) >= 0);
}
}
//
// IRI normalization for strings containing characters that are not allowed or
// escaped characters that should be unescaped in the context of the specified Uri component.
//
internal static unsafe string EscapeUnescapeIri(char* pInput, int start, int end, UriComponents component)
{
char[] dest = new char[end - start];
byte[] bytes = null;
// Pin the array to do pointer accesses
GCHandle destHandle = GCHandle.Alloc(dest, GCHandleType.Pinned);
char* pDest = (char*)destHandle.AddrOfPinnedObject();
const int percentEncodingLen = 3; // Escaped UTF-8 will take 3 chars: %AB.
const int bufferCapacityIncrease = 30 * percentEncodingLen;
int bufferRemaining = 0;
int next = start;
int destOffset = 0;
char ch;
bool escape = false;
bool surrogatePair = false;
for (; next < end; ++next)
{
escape = false;
surrogatePair = false;
if ((ch = pInput[next]) == '%')
{
if (next + 2 < end)
{
ch = UriHelper.EscapedAscii(pInput[next + 1], pInput[next + 2]);
// Do not unescape a reserved char
if (ch == Uri.c_DummyChar || ch == '%' || CheckIsReserved(ch, component) || UriHelper.IsNotSafeForUnescape(ch))
{
// keep as is
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next++];
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next++];
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next];
continue;
}
else if (ch <= '\x7F')
{
Debug.Assert(ch < 0xFF, "Expecting ASCII character.");
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
//ASCII
pDest[destOffset++] = ch;
next += 2;
continue;
}
else
{
// possibly utf8 encoded sequence of unicode
// check if safe to unescape according to Iri rules
Debug.Assert(ch < 0xFF, "Expecting ASCII character.");
int startSeq = next;
int byteCount = 1;
// lazy initialization of max size, will reuse the array for next sequences
if ((object)bytes == null)
bytes = new byte[end - next];
bytes[0] = (byte)ch;
next += 3;
while (next < end)
{
// Check on exit criterion
if ((ch = pInput[next]) != '%' || next + 2 >= end)
break;
// already made sure we have 3 characters in str
ch = UriHelper.EscapedAscii(pInput[next + 1], pInput[next + 2]);
//invalid hex sequence ?
if (ch == Uri.c_DummyChar)
break;
// character is not part of a UTF-8 sequence ?
else if (ch < '\x80')
break;
else
{
//a UTF-8 sequence
bytes[byteCount++] = (byte)ch;
next += 3;
}
Debug.Assert(ch < 0xFF, "Expecting ASCII character.");
}
next--; // for loop will increment
// Using encoder with no replacement fall-back will skip all invalid UTF-8 sequences.
Encoding noFallbackCharUTF8 = Encoding.GetEncoding(
Encoding.UTF8.CodePage,
new EncoderReplacementFallback(""),
new DecoderReplacementFallback(""));
char[] unescapedChars = new char[bytes.Length];
int charCount = noFallbackCharUTF8.GetChars(bytes, 0, byteCount, unescapedChars, 0);
if (charCount != 0)
{
// If invalid sequences were present in the original escaped string, we need to
// copy the escaped versions of those sequences.
// Decoded Unicode values will be kept only when they are allowed by the URI/IRI RFC
// rules.
UriHelper.MatchUTF8Sequence(pDest, dest, ref destOffset, unescapedChars, charCount, bytes,
byteCount, component == UriComponents.Query, true);
}
else
{
// copy escaped sequence as is
for (int i = startSeq; i <= next; ++i)
{
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[i];
}
}
}
}
else
{
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next];
}
}
else if (ch > '\x7f')
{
// unicode
char ch2;
if ((char.IsHighSurrogate(ch)) && (next + 1 < end))
{
ch2 = pInput[next + 1];
escape = !CheckIriUnicodeRange(ch, ch2, ref surrogatePair, component == UriComponents.Query);
if (!escape)
{
// copy the two chars
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next++];
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next];
}
}
else
{
if (CheckIriUnicodeRange(ch, component == UriComponents.Query))
{
if (!UriHelper.IsBidiControlCharacter(ch) || !UriParser.DontKeepUnicodeBidiFormattingCharacters)
{
// copy it
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next];
}
}
else
{
// escape it
escape = true;
}
}
}
else
{
// just copy the character
Debug.Assert(dest.Length > destOffset, "Destination length exceeded destination offset.");
pDest[destOffset++] = pInput[next];
}
if (escape)
{
const int MaxNumberOfBytesEncoded = 4;
if (bufferRemaining < MaxNumberOfBytesEncoded * percentEncodingLen)
{
int newBufferLength = 0;
checked
{
// may need more memory since we didn't anticipate escaping
newBufferLength = dest.Length + bufferCapacityIncrease;
bufferRemaining += bufferCapacityIncrease;
}
char[] newDest = new char[newBufferLength];
fixed (char* pNewDest = newDest)
{
Buffer.MemoryCopy((byte*)pDest, (byte*)pNewDest, newBufferLength * sizeof(char), destOffset * sizeof(char));
}
if (destHandle.IsAllocated)
{
destHandle.Free();
}
dest = newDest;
// re-pin new dest[] array
destHandle = GCHandle.Alloc(dest, GCHandleType.Pinned);
pDest = (char*)destHandle.AddrOfPinnedObject();
}
byte[] encodedBytes = new byte[MaxNumberOfBytesEncoded];
fixed (byte* pEncodedBytes = &encodedBytes[0])
{
int encodedBytesCount = Encoding.UTF8.GetBytes(pInput + next, surrogatePair ? 2 : 1, pEncodedBytes, MaxNumberOfBytesEncoded);
Debug.Assert(encodedBytesCount <= MaxNumberOfBytesEncoded, "UTF8 encoder should not exceed specified byteCount");
bufferRemaining -= encodedBytesCount * percentEncodingLen;
for (int count = 0; count < encodedBytesCount; ++count)
{
UriHelper.EscapeAsciiChar((char)encodedBytes[count], dest, ref destOffset);
}
}
}
}
if (destHandle.IsAllocated)
destHandle.Free();
Debug.Assert(destOffset <= dest.Length, "Destination length met or exceeded destination offset.");
return new string(dest, 0, destOffset);
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
#region -- License Terms --
//
// MessagePack for CLI
//
// Copyright (C) 2014-2015 FUJIWARA, Yusuke
//
// Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License");
// you may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
// You may obtain a copy of the License at
//
// http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
//
// Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
// distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
// WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
// See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
// limitations under the License.
//
#endregion -- License Terms --
#if UNITY_STANDALONE || UNITY_WEBPLAYER || UNITY_WII || UNITY_IPHONE || UNITY_ANDROID || UNITY_PS3 || UNITY_XBOX360 || UNITY_FLASH || UNITY_BKACKBERRY || UNITY_WINRT
#define UNITY
#endif
using System;
using System.Collections;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Globalization;
#if !UNITY
#if XAMIOS || XAMDROID
using Contract = MsgPack.MPContract;
#else
using System.Diagnostics.Contracts;
#endif // XAMIOS || XAMDROID
#endif // !UNITY
using System.Reflection;
using MsgPack.Serialization.DefaultSerializers;
using MsgPack.Serialization.Reflection;
namespace MsgPack.Serialization.ReflectionSerializers
{
/// <summary>
/// Helper static methods for reflection serializers.
/// </summary>
internal static class ReflectionSerializerHelper
{
public static MessagePackSerializer<T> CreateReflectionEnumMessagePackSerializer<T>( SerializationContext context )
{
#if !UNITY
return
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<MessagePackSerializer<T>>(
typeof( ReflectionEnumMessagePackSerializer<> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ) ),
context
);
#else
return MessagePackSerializer.Wrap<T>( context, new ReflectionEnumMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ) ) );
#endif // !UNITY
}
#if !UNITY
public static MessagePackSerializer<T> CreateCollectionSerializer<T>(
#else
public static IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer CreateCollectionSerializer<T>(
#endif // !UNITY
SerializationContext context,
Type targetType,
CollectionTraits traits,
PolymorphismSchema schema
)
{
switch ( traits.DetailedCollectionType )
{
case CollectionDetailedKind.Array:
{
return ArraySerializer.Create<T>( context, schema );
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.GenericList:
#if !NETFX_35 && !UNITY
case CollectionDetailedKind.GenericSet:
#endif // !NETFX_35 && !UNITY
case CollectionDetailedKind.GenericCollection:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( CollectionSerializerFactory<,> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ), traits.ElementType )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionCollectionMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, traits, schema );
#endif // !UNITY
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.GenericEnumerable:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( EnumerableSerializerFactory<,> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ), traits.ElementType )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionEnumerableMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, traits, schema );
#endif // !Enumerable
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.GenericDictionary:
{
var genericArgumentOfKeyValuePair = traits.ElementType.GetGenericArguments();
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( DictionarySerializerFactory<,,> ).MakeGenericType(
typeof( T ),
genericArgumentOfKeyValuePair[ 0 ],
genericArgumentOfKeyValuePair[ 1 ]
)
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionDictionaryMessagePackSerializer(
context,
typeof( T ),
targetType,
genericArgumentOfKeyValuePair[ 0 ],
genericArgumentOfKeyValuePair[ 1 ],
traits,
schema
);
#endif // !UNITY
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.NonGenericList:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( NonGenericListSerializerFactory<> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ) )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionNonGenericListMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, schema );
#endif // !UNITY
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.NonGenericCollection:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( NonGenericCollectionSerializerFactory<> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ), traits.ElementType )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionNonGenericCollectionMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, schema );
#endif // !UNITY
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.NonGenericEnumerable:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( NonGenericEnumerableSerializerFactory<> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ), traits.ElementType )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionNonGenericEnumerableMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, schema );
#endif // !UNITY
}
case CollectionDetailedKind.NonGenericDictionary:
{
return
#if !UNITY
( MessagePackSerializer<T> )
ReflectionExtensions.CreateInstancePreservingExceptionType<IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory>(
typeof( NonGenericDictionarySerializerFactory<> ).MakeGenericType( typeof( T ) )
).Create( context, targetType, schema );
#else
new ReflectionNonGenericDictionaryMessagePackSerializer( context, typeof( T ), targetType, schema );
#endif // !UNITY
}
default:
{
return null;
}
}
}
#if !UNITY
public static Action<TCollection, TItem> GetAddItem<TCollection, TItem>( Type targetType )
#else
public static Action<object, object> GetAddItem( Type targetType )
#endif // !UNITY
{
var addMethod = targetType.GetCollectionTraits().AddMethod;
if ( addMethod == null )
{
throw new NotSupportedException(
String.Format(
CultureInfo.CurrentCulture,
"Reflection based serializer only supports collection types which implement interface to add new item such as '{0}' and '{1}'",
typeof( ICollection<> ).GetFullName(),
typeof( IList )
)
);
}
// CreateDelegate causes AOT error.
// So use reflection in AOT environment.
#if ( !UNITY && !XAMIOS ) || AOT_CHECK
try
{
return addMethod.CreateDelegate( typeof( Action<TCollection, TItem> ) ) as Action<TCollection, TItem>;
}
catch ( ArgumentException )
{
#endif // ( !UNITY && !XAMIOS ) || AOT_CHECK
return ( collection, item ) => addMethod.InvokePreservingExceptionType( collection, item );
#if ( !UNITY && !XAMIOS ) || AOT_CHECK
}
#endif // ( !UNITY && !XAMIOS ) || AOT_CHECK
}
public static void GetMetadata(
IList<SerializingMember> members,
SerializationContext context,
out Func<object, object>[] getters,
out Action<object, object>[] setters,
out MemberInfo[] memberInfos,
out DataMemberContract[] contracts,
out IMessagePackSerializer[] serializers )
{
getters = new Func<object, object>[ members.Count ];
setters = new Action<object, object>[ members.Count ];
memberInfos = new MemberInfo[ members.Count ];
contracts = new DataMemberContract[ members.Count ];
serializers = new IMessagePackSerializer[ members.Count ];
for ( var i = 0; i < members.Count; i++ )
{
var member = members[ i ];
if ( member.Member == null )
{
#if UNITY
contracts[ i ] = DataMemberContract.Null;
#endif // UNITY
continue;
}
FieldInfo asField;
if ( ( asField = member.Member as FieldInfo ) != null )
{
getters[ i ] = asField.GetValue;
setters[ i ] = asField.SetValue;
}
else
{
var property = member.Member as PropertyInfo;
#if DEBUG && !UNITY
Contract.Assert( property != null, "member.Member is PropertyInfo" );
#endif // DEBUG && !UNITY
getters[ i ] = target => property.GetGetMethod( true ).InvokePreservingExceptionType( target, null );
var setter = property.GetSetMethod( true );
if ( setter != null )
{
setters[ i ] = ( target, value ) => setter.InvokePreservingExceptionType( target, new[] { value } );
}
}
memberInfos[ i ] = member.Member;
#if !UNITY
contracts[ i ] = member.Contract;
#else
contracts[ i ] = member.Contract ?? DataMemberContract.Null;
#endif // !UNITY
var memberType = member.Member.GetMemberValueType();
if ( memberType.GetIsEnum() )
{
serializers[ i ] =
context.GetSerializer(
memberType,
EnumMessagePackSerializerHelpers.DetermineEnumSerializationMethod(
context,
memberType,
member.GetEnumMemberSerializationMethod()
)
);
}
else if ( DateTimeMessagePackSerializerHelpers.IsDateTime( memberType ) )
{
serializers[ i ] =
context.GetSerializer(
memberType,
DateTimeMessagePackSerializerHelpers.DetermineDateTimeConversionMethod(
context,
member.GetDateTimeMemberConversionMethod()
)
);
}
else
{
serializers[ i ] = context.GetSerializer( memberType, PolymorphismSchema.Create( context, memberType, member ) );
}
}
}
#if !UNITY
public static Func<int, T> CreateCollectionInstanceFactory<T, TKey>( Type targetType )
#else
public static Func<int, object> CreateCollectionInstanceFactory( Type abstractType, Type targetType, Type comparisonType )
#endif // !UNITY
{
var constructor = UnpackHelpers.GetCollectionConstructor( targetType );
var parameters = constructor.GetParameters();
switch ( parameters.Length )
{
case 0:
{
return _ =>
#if !UNITY
( T )
#endif // !UNITY
constructor.InvokePreservingExceptionType();
}
case 1:
{
if ( parameters[ 0 ].ParameterType == typeof( int ) )
{
return capacity =>
#if !UNITY
( T )
#endif // !UNITY
constructor.InvokePreservingExceptionType( capacity );
}
else if ( UnpackHelpers.IsIEqualityComparer( parameters[ 0 ].ParameterType ) )
{
var comparer =
#if !UNITY
EqualityComparer<TKey>.Default;
#else
UnpackHelpers.GetEqualityComparer( comparisonType );
#endif // !UNITY
return _ =>
#if !UNITY
( T )
#endif // !UNITY
constructor.InvokePreservingExceptionType( comparer );
}
break;
}
case 2:
{
var comparer =
#if !UNITY
EqualityComparer<TKey>.Default;
#else
UnpackHelpers.GetEqualityComparer( comparisonType );
#endif // !UNITY
if ( parameters[ 0 ].ParameterType == typeof( int )
&& UnpackHelpers.IsIEqualityComparer( parameters[ 1 ].ParameterType ) )
{
return capacity =>
#if !UNITY
( T )
#endif // !UNITY
constructor.InvokePreservingExceptionType( capacity, comparer );
}
else if ( UnpackHelpers.IsIEqualityComparer( parameters[ 0 ].ParameterType ) &&
parameters[ 0 ].ParameterType == typeof( int ) )
{
return capacity =>
#if !UNITY
( T )
#endif // !UNITY
constructor.InvokePreservingExceptionType( comparer, capacity );
}
break;
}
}
throw SerializationExceptions.NewTargetDoesNotHavePublicDefaultConstructorNorInitialCapacity(
#if !UNITY
typeof( T )
#else
abstractType
#endif // !UNITY
);
}
#if !UNITY
/// <summary>
/// Defines non-generic factory method for 'universal' serializers which use general collection features.
/// </summary>
private interface IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
{
IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema );
}
// ReSharper disable MemberHidesStaticFromOuterClass
private sealed class NonGenericEnumerableSerializerFactory<T> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where T : IEnumerable
{
public NonGenericEnumerableSerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
return new ReflectionNonGenericEnumerableMessagePackSerializer<T>( context, targetType, schema );
}
}
private sealed class NonGenericCollectionSerializerFactory<T> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where T : ICollection
{
public NonGenericCollectionSerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
return new ReflectionNonGenericCollectionMessagePackSerializer<T>( context, targetType, schema );
}
}
private sealed class NonGenericListSerializerFactory<T> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where T : IList
{
public NonGenericListSerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
return new ReflectionNonGenericListMessagePackSerializer<T>( context, targetType, schema );
}
}
private sealed class NonGenericDictionarySerializerFactory<T> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where T : IDictionary
{
public NonGenericDictionarySerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
return new ReflectionNonGenericDictionaryMessagePackSerializer<T>( context, targetType, schema );
}
}
private sealed class EnumerableSerializerFactory<TCollection, TItem> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where TCollection : IEnumerable<TItem>
{
public EnumerableSerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
var itemSchema = schema ?? PolymorphismSchema.Default;
return new ReflectionEnumerableMessagePackSerializer<TCollection, TItem>( context, targetType, itemSchema );
}
}
private sealed class CollectionSerializerFactory<TCollection, TItem> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where TCollection : ICollection<TItem>
{
public CollectionSerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
var itemSchema = schema ?? PolymorphismSchema.Default;
return new ReflectionCollectionMessagePackSerializer<TCollection, TItem>( context, targetType, itemSchema );
}
}
private sealed class DictionarySerializerFactory<TDictionary, TKey, TValue> : IVariantReflectionSerializerFactory
where TDictionary : IDictionary<TKey, TValue>
{
public DictionarySerializerFactory() { }
public IMessagePackSingleObjectSerializer Create( SerializationContext context, Type targetType, PolymorphismSchema schema )
{
return new ReflectionDictionaryMessagePackSerializer<TDictionary, TKey, TValue>( context, targetType, schema );
}
}
// ReSharper restore MemberHidesStaticFromOuterClass
#endif // !UNITY
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Mastiff
Mastiff type means a large molosser dog. The term "mastiff type" has been used synonymously with the term "molosser". For example, the bulldog breeds, the Great Dane, the mountain dogs, the pit bulls and even smaller dogs such as the Boston terrier, may be considered "mastiff types" in this broad sense. The descriptive term, mastiff type, should not be confused with the breed, the Mastiff. All breeds are individual and should be referred to by their breed name to ensure correct identification.
Passage 2:
Cane da presa
The Cane da Presa Meridionale (Italian for "Southern Catching Dog") is the old, "functional" working variant of the Neapolitan Mastiff. Before 1946 there was no distinction between Neapolitan Mastiff, Cane da Presa and Cane Corso, these were simply three different names for the same dog. The modern Neapolitan Mastiff is unlike the original, a dog created by dog shows. Fans of the original Mastino have started an organisation which is trying to gather the remaining specimens which would fit the 1946 standard of the Neapolitan Mastiff.
Passage 3:
English Mastiff
The English Mastiff is a breed of extremely large dog (often known simply as the Mastiff) perhaps descended from the ancient Alaunt and Pugnaces Britanniae, with a significant input from the Alpine Mastiff in the 19th century. Distinguishable by enormous size, massive head, and a limited range of colours, but always displaying a black mask, the Mastiff is noted for its gentle and loving nature. The lineage of modern dogs can be traced back to the early 19th century, but the modern type was stabilised in the 1880s and refined since. Following a period of sharp decline, the Mastiff has increased its worldwide popularity. Throughout its history, the Mastiff has contributed to the development of a number of dog breeds, some generally known as Mastiff-type dogs, or, confusingly, just as "Mastiffs".
Passage 4:
Stephens Cur
The Stephens Cur (a.k.a. Stephens' Stock Cur), is a scent hound that belongs to the Cur dog breed. They were originally bred by the Stephens family in southeastern Kentucky. The dogs known as "Little black dog" were bred by generations of that family for over a century. In 1970, they were recognized as separate and distinct breed of Cur. The dog is mostly black with white markings, but more than a third white is not permissible. It is good for hunting raccoon and squirrel, but can also be used to bay wild boar. They are registered with the United Kennel Club
Passage 5:
Fila Brasileiro
The Fila Brasileiro (] ) also known as the Brazilian Mastiff is a large working breed of dog developed in Brazil. It is known for its superb tracking ability, aggressiveness and an unforgiving impetuous temperament. When a Brazilian Mastiff finds its quarry, it does not attack it, but rather holds it at bay until the hunter arrives. Owing to these qualities, the Brazilian Mastiff is used as a guard dog, as a shepherd dog for herding livestock and as a hunting dog for tracking and controlling large prey. When slavery was legal in Brazil, the Brazilian Mastiff was used to return fugitives unharmed to their slave masters. This breed has been banned in many countries because of its temperament and potential for aggression.
Passage 6:
Cur
The term cur refers to the lowest class of nameless dog or Pariah Dog, generally a mixed-breed dog. Originally the word "cur" referred to a certain English purpose-bred, short-tailed cattle driving dog known only from historical records, the cur dog, but in modern usage it applies to any mixed-breed.
Passage 7:
Treeing Cur
The Treeing Cur is a breed of dog that originated in the mid-west and was first recognized by United Kennel Club on November 1, 1998, due to the efforts of Alex and Ray Kovac. "Most Cur breeders were not well off and so they required a dog that could serve multiple purposes: hunter, guardian, and stock dog. The result was the Treeing Cur, "which is the most varied in size and colors of the Cur breeds", according to United Kennel Club.They are primarily used to tree squirrels, raccoons, opossums, wild boars, bears, mountain lions and bobcats as well as to hunt big game.
Passage 8:
Alpine Mastiff
The Alpine Mastiff is an extinct Molosser dog breed, the progenitor of the St. Bernard, and a major contributor to the modern Mastiff (through such dogs as "Couchez"), as well as to other breeds that derive from these breeds or are closely related to them. M.B. Wynn wrote, "In 1829 a vast light brindle dog of the old Alpine mastiff breed, named L'Ami, was brought from the convent of Great St. Bernard, and exhibited in London and Liverpool as the largest dog in England." William Cavendish, 5th Duke of Devonshire, is believed to have bred Alpine Mastiffs at Chatsworth House.
Passage 9:
Mountain Cur
The Mountain Cur is a type of working dog that is bred specifically for treeing and trailing small game, like squirrel and raccoons. They are also used for hunting and baying big game like bear and wild boar as well as being an all-purpose farm dog. Curs are a member of the Hound group, and the Mountain Cur is one of several varieties of cur. It can also be used as a water dog. Mainly bred in Ohio, Kentucky, Virginia, and Tennessee, it has been registered with the United Kennel Club since 1998. The Mountain Cur Breeder's Association was formed in 1957.
Passage 10:
Catahoula Cur
The Catahoula Cur is an American dog breed named after Catahoula Parish, Louisiana, United States. Also known as the Catahoula Leopard Dog, it became the state dog of Louisiana in 1979. The breed is sometimes referred to as the "Catahoula Hound" or "Catahoula Leopard Hound" because of its spots, although it is not a true hound but a cur. It is also called the "Catahoula Hog Dog", reflecting its traditional use in hunting wild boar.
Question: Which dog is larger, the Alpine Mastiff or the Mountain Cur?
Answer: The Alpine Mastiff
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
package org.Json;
/*
Copyright (c) 2002 JSON.org
Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy
of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal
in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights
to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell
copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is
furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all
copies or substantial portions of the Software.
The Software shall be used for Good, not Evil.
THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY,
FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE
AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER
LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM,
OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE
SOFTWARE.
*/
/**
* This provides static methods to convert comma delimited text into a
* JSONArray, and to covert a JSONArray into comma delimited text. Comma
* delimited text is a very popular format for data interchange. It is
* understood by most database, spreadsheet, and organizer programs.
* <p/>
* Each row of text represents a row in a table or a data record. Each row
* ends with a NEWLINE character. Each row contains one or more values.
* Values are separated by commas. A value can contain any character except
* for comma, unless is is wrapped in single quotes or double quotes.
* <p/>
* The first row usually contains the names of the columns.
* <p/>
* A comma delimited list can be converted into a JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* The names for the elements in the JSONObjects can be taken from the names
* in the first row.
*
* @author JSON.org
* @version 2014-05-03
*/
public class CDL {
/**
* Get the next value. The value can be wrapped in quotes. The value can
* be empty.
*
* @param x A JSONTokener of the source text.
* @return The value string, or null if empty.
* @throws JSONException if the quoted string is badly formed.
*/
private static String getValue(JSONTokener x) throws JSONException {
char c;
char q;
StringBuffer sb;
do {
c = x.next();
} while (c == ' ' || c == '\t');
switch (c) {
case 0:
return null;
case '"':
case '\'':
q = c;
sb = new StringBuffer();
for (; ; ) {
c = x.next();
if (c == q) {
break;
}
if (c == 0 || c == '\n' || c == '\r') {
throw x.syntaxError("Missing close quote '" + q + "'.");
}
sb.append(c);
}
return sb.toString();
case ',':
x.back();
return "";
default:
x.back();
return x.nextTo(',');
}
}
/**
* Produce a JSONArray of strings from a row of comma delimited values.
*
* @param x A JSONTokener of the source text.
* @return A JSONArray of strings.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONArray rowToJSONArray(JSONTokener x) throws JSONException {
JSONArray ja = new JSONArray();
for (; ; ) {
String value = getValue(x);
char c = x.next();
if (value == null ||
(ja.length() == 0 && value.length() == 0 && c != ',')) {
return null;
}
ja.put(value);
for (; ; ) {
if (c == ',') {
break;
}
if (c != ' ') {
if (c == '\n' || c == '\r' || c == 0) {
return ja;
}
throw x.syntaxError("Bad character '" + c + "' (" +
(int) c + ").");
}
c = x.next();
}
}
}
/**
* Produce a JSONObject from a row of comma delimited text, using a
* parallel JSONArray of strings to provides the names of the elements.
*
* @param names A JSONArray of names. This is commonly obtained from the
* first row of a comma delimited text file using the rowToJSONArray
* method.
* @param x A JSONTokener of the source text.
* @return A JSONObject combining the names and values.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONObject rowToJSONObject(JSONArray names, JSONTokener x)
throws JSONException {
JSONArray ja = rowToJSONArray(x);
return ja != null ? ja.toJSONObject(names) : null;
}
/**
* Produce a comma delimited text row from a JSONArray. Values containing
* the comma character will be quoted. Troublesome characters may be
* removed.
*
* @param ja A JSONArray of strings.
* @return A string ending in NEWLINE.
*/
public static String rowToString(JSONArray ja) {
StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder();
for (int i = 0; i < ja.length(); i += 1) {
if (i > 0) {
sb.append(',');
}
Object object = ja.opt(i);
if (object != null) {
String string = object.toString();
if (string.length() > 0 && (string.indexOf(',') >= 0 ||
string.indexOf('\n') >= 0 || string.indexOf('\r') >= 0 ||
string.indexOf(0) >= 0 || string.charAt(0) == '"')) {
sb.append('"');
int length = string.length();
for (int j = 0; j < length; j += 1) {
char c = string.charAt(j);
if (c >= ' ' && c != '"') {
sb.append(c);
}
}
sb.append('"');
} else {
sb.append(string);
}
}
}
sb.append('\n');
return sb.toString();
}
/**
* Produce a JSONArray of JSONObjects from a comma delimited text string,
* using the first row as a source of names.
*
* @param string The comma delimited text.
* @return A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONArray toJSONArray(String string) throws JSONException {
return toJSONArray(new JSONTokener(string));
}
/**
* Produce a JSONArray of JSONObjects from a comma delimited text string,
* using the first row as a source of names.
*
* @param x The JSONTokener containing the comma delimited text.
* @return A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONArray toJSONArray(JSONTokener x) throws JSONException {
return toJSONArray(rowToJSONArray(x), x);
}
/**
* Produce a JSONArray of JSONObjects from a comma delimited text string
* using a supplied JSONArray as the source of element names.
*
* @param names A JSONArray of strings.
* @param string The comma delimited text.
* @return A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONArray toJSONArray(JSONArray names, String string)
throws JSONException {
return toJSONArray(names, new JSONTokener(string));
}
/**
* Produce a JSONArray of JSONObjects from a comma delimited text string
* using a supplied JSONArray as the source of element names.
*
* @param names A JSONArray of strings.
* @param x A JSONTokener of the source text.
* @return A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static JSONArray toJSONArray(JSONArray names, JSONTokener x)
throws JSONException {
if (names == null || names.length() == 0) {
return null;
}
JSONArray ja = new JSONArray();
for (; ; ) {
JSONObject jo = rowToJSONObject(names, x);
if (jo == null) {
break;
}
ja.put(jo);
}
if (ja.length() == 0) {
return null;
}
return ja;
}
/**
* Produce a comma delimited text from a JSONArray of JSONObjects. The
* first row will be a list of names obtained by inspecting the first
* JSONObject.
*
* @param ja A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @return A comma delimited text.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static String toString(JSONArray ja) throws JSONException {
JSONObject jo = ja.optJSONObject(0);
if (jo != null) {
JSONArray names = jo.names();
if (names != null) {
return rowToString(names) + toString(names, ja);
}
}
return null;
}
/**
* Produce a comma delimited text from a JSONArray of JSONObjects using
* a provided list of names. The list of names is not included in the
* output.
*
* @param names A JSONArray of strings.
* @param ja A JSONArray of JSONObjects.
* @return A comma delimited text.
* @throws JSONException
*/
public static String toString(JSONArray names, JSONArray ja)
throws JSONException {
if (names == null || names.length() == 0) {
return null;
}
StringBuffer sb = new StringBuffer();
for (int i = 0; i < ja.length(); i += 1) {
JSONObject jo = ja.optJSONObject(i);
if (jo != null) {
sb.append(rowToString(jo.toJSONArray(names)));
}
}
return sb.toString();
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
// Licensed to DynamoBI Corporation (DynamoBI) under one
// or more contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file
// distributed with this work for additional information
// regarding copyright ownership. DynamoBI licenses this file
// to you under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the
// "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance
// with the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
// http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
// Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing,
// software distributed under the License is distributed on an
// "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY
// KIND, either express or implied. See the License for the
// specific language governing permissions and limitations
// under the License.
*/
package net.sf.farrago.query;
import java.util.*;
import net.sf.farrago.cwm.behavioral.*;
import net.sf.farrago.fem.security.*;
import net.sf.farrago.fem.sql2003.*;
import org.eigenbase.reltype.*;
import org.eigenbase.resgen.*;
import org.eigenbase.sql.*;
import org.eigenbase.sql.parser.*;
import org.eigenbase.sql.type.*;
import org.eigenbase.sql.validate.*;
import org.eigenbase.util.*;
/**
* FarragoSqlValidator refines SqlValidator with some Farrago-specifics.
*
* @author John V. Sichi
* @version $Id$
*/
public class FarragoSqlValidator
extends SqlValidatorImpl
{
//~ Instance fields --------------------------------------------------------
final FarragoPreparingStmt preparingStmt;
//~ Constructors -----------------------------------------------------------
/**
* Constructor that allows caller to specify dependant objects rather than
* relying on the preparingStmt to supply them. This constructor is is
* friendlier to class extension as well as providing more control during
* test setup.
*/
public FarragoSqlValidator(
SqlOperatorTable opTab,
SqlValidatorCatalogReader catalogReader,
RelDataTypeFactory typeFactory,
SqlConformance conformance,
FarragoPreparingStmt preparingStmt)
{
super(
opTab,
catalogReader,
typeFactory,
conformance);
this.preparingStmt = preparingStmt;
}
/**
* Constructor that relies on the preparingStmt object to provide various
* other objects during initialization.
*/
public FarragoSqlValidator(
FarragoPreparingStmt preparingStmt,
SqlConformance conformance)
{
super(
preparingStmt.getSqlOperatorTable(),
preparingStmt,
preparingStmt.getFarragoTypeFactory(),
conformance);
this.preparingStmt = preparingStmt;
}
//~ Methods ----------------------------------------------------------------
// override SqlValidator
public SqlNode validate(SqlNode topNode)
{
try {
SqlNode node = super.validate(topNode);
getPreparingStmt().analyzeRoutineDependencies(node);
return node;
} catch (EigenbaseContextException e) {
e.setOriginalStatement(preparingStmt.getSql());
throw e;
}
}
// override SqlValidator
public boolean shouldExpandIdentifiers()
{
// Farrago always wants to expand stars and identifiers during
// validation since we use the validated representation as a canonical
// form.
return true;
}
// override SqlValidator
protected boolean shouldAllowIntermediateOrderBy()
{
// Farrago follows the SQL standard on this.
return false;
}
public void validateDataType(SqlDataTypeSpec dataType)
{
super.validateDataType(dataType);
FarragoPreparingStmt preparingStmt = getPreparingStmt();
try {
preparingStmt.getStmtValidator().validateDataType(dataType);
} catch (SqlValidatorException ex) {
throw newValidationError(dataType, ex);
}
}
protected FarragoPreparingStmt getPreparingStmt()
{
return preparingStmt;
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
public void validateInsert(SqlInsert call)
{
getPreparingStmt().setDmlValidation(
call.getTargetTable(),
PrivilegedActionEnum.INSERT);
super.validateInsert(call);
getPreparingStmt().clearDmlValidation();
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
public void validateUpdate(SqlUpdate call)
{
getPreparingStmt().setDmlValidation(
call.getTargetTable(),
PrivilegedActionEnum.UPDATE);
super.validateUpdate(call);
getPreparingStmt().clearDmlValidation();
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
public void validateDelete(SqlDelete call)
{
getPreparingStmt().setDmlValidation(
call.getTargetTable(),
PrivilegedActionEnum.DELETE);
super.validateDelete(call);
getPreparingStmt().clearDmlValidation();
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
public void validateMerge(SqlMerge call)
{
getPreparingStmt().setDmlValidation(
call.getTargetTable(),
PrivilegedActionEnum.UPDATE);
super.validateMerge(call);
getPreparingStmt().clearDmlValidation();
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
protected void validateFeature(
ResourceDefinition feature,
SqlParserPos context)
{
super.validateFeature(feature, context);
getPreparingStmt().getStmtValidator().validateFeature(
feature,
context);
}
// override SqlValidatorImpl
public void validateColumnListParams(
SqlFunction function,
RelDataType [] argTypes,
SqlNode [] operands)
{
// get the UDR that the function corresponds to
FarragoUserDefinedRoutine routine =
(FarragoUserDefinedRoutine) function;
FemRoutine femRoutine = routine.getFemRoutine();
List<CwmParameter> params = femRoutine.getParameter();
FunctionParamInfo funcParamInfo = functionCallStack.peek();
Map<Integer, SqlSelect> cursorMap = funcParamInfo.cursorPosToSelectMap;
Map<String, String> parentCursorMap =
funcParamInfo.columnListParamToParentCursorMap;
// locate arguments that are COLUMN_LIST types; locate the select
// scope corresponding to the source cursor and revalidate the
// function operand using that scope
for (int i = 0; i < argTypes.length; i++) {
if (argTypes[i].getSqlTypeName() == SqlTypeName.COLUMN_LIST) {
FemColumnListRoutineParameter clParam =
(FemColumnListRoutineParameter) params.get(i);
String sourceCursor = clParam.getSourceCursorName();
int cursorPosition = -1;
for (
FemRoutineParameter p
: Util.cast(params, FemRoutineParameter.class))
{
if (p.getType().getName().equals("CURSOR")) {
cursorPosition++;
if (p.getName().equals(sourceCursor)) {
SqlSelect sourceSelect =
cursorMap.get(cursorPosition);
SqlValidatorScope cursorScope =
getCursorScope(sourceSelect);
// save the original node type so we can reset it
// after we've validated the column references
RelDataType origNodeType =
getValidatedNodeType(operands[i]);
removeValidatedNodeType(operands[i]);
deriveType(cursorScope, operands[i]);
setValidatedNodeType(operands[i], origNodeType);
parentCursorMap.put(
clParam.getName(),
sourceCursor);
break;
}
}
}
}
}
}
}
// End FarragoSqlValidator.java
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Wendell Lady
Wendell Lady( born December 12, 1930) is an American politician who served in the Kansas House of Representatives from 1969 to 1983. He served as Speaker of the Kansas House of Representatives from 1979 to 1983.
Passage 2:
Rothilde
Princess Rothilde( Latin:" Rothildis"; 871 – 928/929) was a Frankish noble lady born into the royal family of Western Francia.
Passage 3:
Astrid North
Astrid North( Astrid Karina North Radmann; 24 August 1973, Berlin – 25 June 2019, Berlin) was a German soul singer and songwriter. She was the singer of the German band, with whom she released five Albums. As guest singer of the band she published three albums.
Passage 4:
Bernie Bonvoisin
Bernard Bonvoisin, known as Bernie Bonvoisin( born 9 July 1956 in Nanterre, Hauts- de- Seine), is a French hard rock singer and film director. He is best known for having been the singer of Trust. He was one of the best friends of Bon Scott the singer of AC/ DC and together they recorded the song" Ride On" which was one of the last songs by Bon Scott.
Passage 5:
Kristian Leontiou
Kristian Leontiou (born February 1982) is a British singer of Greek Cypriot descent, and is the singer for the indie rock band One eskimO.
Passage 6:
Caspar Babypants
Caspar Babypants is the stage name of children's music artist Chris Ballew, who is also widely known as the singer of The Presidents of the United States of America.
Passage 7:
Billy Milano
Billy Milano is a Bronx- born heavy metal musician now based in Austin, Texas. He is the singer and- occasionally- guitarist and bassist of crossover thrash band M.O.D., and he was also the singer of its predecessor, Stormtroopers of Death. He was also the singer of United Forces, which also featured his Stormtroopers of Death bandmate Dan Lilker.
Passage 8:
Lady (D'Angelo song)
Lady is a song co-written, co-produced and performed by American neo soul singer D'Angelo, issued as the third single from his debut studio album "Brown Sugar". A remixed version of the song (titled the Clean Street Version) was also released, featuring vocals from American hip hop musician AZ. Separate music videos were created for both versions of the song. "Lady" is D'Angelo's biggest hit single to date in the United States, peaking at #10 on the "Billboard" Hot 100 in 1996. It was certified gold by the RIAA on June 4, 1996. The song was also nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Male R&B Vocal Performance in 1997, but lost to "Your Secret Love" by Luther Vandross. Canadian rapper Drake heavily sampled the song for the closing track "March 14" off of his 2018 album "Scorpion".
Passage 9:
D'Angelo
Michael Eugene Archer (born February 11, 1974), better known by his stage name D'Angelo (pronounced "di"-Angelo), is an American singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and record producer. D'Angelo is associated with the neo soul movement, along with artists like Erykah Badu, Lauryn Hill, Maxwell, and collaborator Angie Stone. Born in Richmond, Virginia, the son of a Pentecostal minister, D'Angelo taught himself piano as a child. At eighteen, he won the amateur talent competition at Harlem's Apollo Theater three weeks in a row. After a brief affiliation with hip-hop group I.D.U., his first major success came in 1994 as the co-writer and co-producer of the song "U Will Know". His debut solo album, "Brown Sugar" (1995), received positive reviews and sold over two million copies. His next album, "Voodoo ("2000), debuted at number one on the US "Billboard" 200. Its lead single Untitled (How Does It Feel), entered the R&B charts and won a Grammy for Best Male R&B Vocal; likewise, "Voodoo" won Best R&B Album. D'Angelo was hailed as the next Marvin Gaye by GQ in 2014. Following the release of the music video for "Untitled (How Does It Feel)", D'Angelo became more than uncomfortable with his growing status as a sex symbol. This was followed by numerous personal struggles including alcoholism, and a fourteen-year long musical hiatus. D'Angelo released his third studio album, "Black Messiah", in December 2014. The album was met with critical acclaim and fared well on music charts, peaking at number five on the US "Billboard" 200. D'Angelo also contributed to the soundtrack for the 2018 video game "Red Dead Redemption 2", performing the song "Unshaken".
Passage 10:
O Valencia!
" O Valencia!" is the fifth single by the indie rock band The Decemberists, and the first released from their fourth studio album," The Crane Wife". The music was written by The Decemberists and the lyrics by Colin Meloy. It tells a story of two star- crossed lovers. The singer falls in love with a person who belongs to an opposing gang. At the end of the song, the singer's lover jumps in to defend the singer, who is confronting his lover's brother( the singer's" sworn enemy") and is killed by the bullet intended for the singer.
Question: Where was the performer of song Lady (D'Angelo Song) born?
Answer: Richmond
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
from __future__ import print_function
import os
from time import time
import random
import numpy as np
import tables
# in order to always generate the same random sequence
random.seed(19)
np.random.seed((19, 20))
def open_db(filename, remove=0):
if remove and os.path.exists(filename):
os.remove(filename)
con = tables.open_file(filename, 'a')
return con
def create_db(filename, nrows):
class Record(tables.IsDescription):
col1 = tables.Int32Col()
col2 = tables.Int32Col()
col3 = tables.Float64Col()
col4 = tables.Float64Col()
con = open_db(filename, remove=1)
table = con.create_table(con.root, 'table', Record,
filters=filters, expectedrows=nrows)
table.indexFilters = filters
step = 1000 * 100
scale = 0.1
t1 = time()
j = 0
for i in range(0, nrows, step):
stop = (j + 1) * step
if stop > nrows:
stop = nrows
arr_f8 = np.arange(i, stop, type=np.Float64)
arr_i4 = np.arange(i, stop, type=np.Int32)
if userandom:
arr_f8 += np.random.normal(0, stop * scale, shape=[stop - i])
arr_i4 = np.array(arr_f8, type=np.Int32)
recarr = np.rec.fromarrays([arr_i4, arr_i4, arr_f8, arr_f8])
table.append(recarr)
j += 1
table.flush()
ctime = time() - t1
if verbose:
print("insert time:", round(ctime, 5))
print("Krows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / ctime, 5))
index_db(table)
close_db(con)
def index_db(table):
t1 = time()
table.cols.col2.create_index()
itime = time() - t1
if verbose:
print("index time (int):", round(itime, 5))
print("Krows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / itime, 5))
t1 = time()
table.cols.col4.create_index()
itime = time() - t1
if verbose:
print("index time (float):", round(itime, 5))
print("Krows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / itime, 5))
def query_db(filename, rng):
con = open_db(filename)
table = con.root.table
# Query for integer columns
# Query for non-indexed column
if not doqueryidx:
t1 = time()
ntimes = 10
for i in range(ntimes):
results = [
r['col1'] for r in table.where(
rng[0] + i <= table.cols.col1 <= rng[1] + i)
]
qtime = (time() - t1) / ntimes
if verbose:
print("query time (int, not indexed):", round(qtime, 5))
print("Mrows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / qtime, 5))
print(results)
# Query for indexed column
t1 = time()
ntimes = 10
for i in range(ntimes):
results = [
r['col1'] for r in table.where(
rng[0] + i <= table.cols.col2 <= rng[1] + i)
]
qtime = (time() - t1) / ntimes
if verbose:
print("query time (int, indexed):", round(qtime, 5))
print("Mrows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / qtime, 5))
print(results)
# Query for floating columns
# Query for non-indexed column
if not doqueryidx:
t1 = time()
ntimes = 10
for i in range(ntimes):
results = [
r['col3'] for r in table.where(
rng[0] + i <= table.cols.col3 <= rng[1] + i)
]
qtime = (time() - t1) / ntimes
if verbose:
print("query time (float, not indexed):", round(qtime, 5))
print("Mrows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / qtime, 5))
print(results)
# Query for indexed column
t1 = time()
ntimes = 10
for i in range(ntimes):
results = [r['col3'] for r in
table.where(rng[0] + i <= table.cols.col4 <= rng[1] + i)]
qtime = (time() - t1) / ntimes
if verbose:
print("query time (float, indexed):", round(qtime, 5))
print("Mrows/s:", round((nrows / 1000.) / qtime, 5))
print(results)
close_db(con)
def close_db(con):
con.close()
if __name__ == "__main__":
import sys
import getopt
try:
import psyco
psyco_imported = 1
except:
psyco_imported = 0
usage = """usage: %s [-v] [-p] [-m] [-c] [-q] [-i] [-z complevel] [-l complib] [-R range] [-n nrows] file
-v verbose
-p use "psyco" if available
-m use random values to fill the table
-q do a query (both indexed and non-indexed version)
-i do a query (exclude non-indexed version)
-c create the database
-z compress with zlib (no compression by default)
-l use complib for compression (zlib used by default)
-R select a range in a field in the form "start,stop" (def "0,10")
-n sets the number of rows (in krows) in each table
\n""" % sys.argv[0]
try:
opts, pargs = getopt.getopt(sys.argv[1:], 'vpmcqiz:l:R:n:')
except:
sys.stderr.write(usage)
sys.exit(0)
# default options
verbose = 0
usepsyco = 0
userandom = 0
docreate = 0
docompress = 0
complib = "zlib"
doquery = 0
doqueryidx = 0
rng = [0, 10]
nrows = 1
# Get the options
for option in opts:
if option[0] == '-v':
verbose = 1
elif option[0] == '-p':
usepsyco = 1
elif option[0] == '-m':
userandom = 1
elif option[0] == '-c':
docreate = 1
createindex = 1
elif option[0] == '-q':
doquery = 1
elif option[0] == '-i':
doqueryidx = 1
elif option[0] == '-z':
docompress = int(option[1])
elif option[0] == '-l':
complib = option[1]
elif option[0] == '-R':
rng = [int(i) for i in option[1].split(",")]
elif option[0] == '-n':
nrows = int(option[1])
# Catch the hdf5 file passed as the last argument
filename = pargs[0]
# The filters chosen
filters = tables.Filters(complevel=docompress, complib=complib)
if verbose:
print("pytables version:", tables.__version__)
if userandom:
print("using random values")
if doqueryidx:
print("doing indexed queries only")
if docreate:
if verbose:
print("writing %s krows" % nrows)
if psyco_imported and usepsyco:
psyco.bind(create_db)
nrows *= 1000
create_db(filename, nrows)
if doquery:
query_db(filename, rng)
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 2:
Olav Aaraas
Olav Aaraas( born 10 July 1950) is a Norwegian historian and museum director. He was born in Fredrikstad. From 1982 to 1993 he was the director of Sogn Folk Museum, from 1993 to 2010 he was the director of Maihaugen and from 2001 he has been the director of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. In 2010 he was decorated with the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.
Passage 3:
Jesse E. Hobson
Jesse Edward Hobson( May 2, 1911 – November 5, 1970) was the director of SRI International from 1947 to 1955. Prior to SRI, he was the director of the Armour Research Foundation.
Passage 4:
Michael Govan
Michael Govan( born 1963) is the director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art since 2006. Prior to this, Govan worked as the director of the Dia Art Foundation in New York City.
Passage 5:
Brian Kennedy (gallery director)
Brian Patrick Kennedy( born 5 November 1961) is an Irish- born art museum director who has worked in Ireland and Australia, and now lives and works in the United States. He is currently the director of the Peabody Essex Museum. He was the director of the Toledo Museum of Art in Ohio from 2010 to 2019. He was the director of the Hood Museum of Art from 2005 to 2010, and the National Gallery of Australia( Canberra) from 1997- 2004.
Passage 6:
Extravagance (1930 film)
Extravagance is a 1930 pre-Code American film directed by Phil Rosen and released by Tiffany Pictures.
Passage 7:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 8:
S. N. Mathur
S.N. Mathur was the Director of the Indian Intelligence Bureau between September 1975 and February 1980. He was also the Director General of Police in Punjab.
Passage 9:
Phil Rosen
Philip E. Rosen (May 8, 1888 – October 22, 1951) was an American film director and cinematographer. He directed 142 films between 1915 and 1949. He was born in Marienburg, German Empire (now, Malbork, Poland), grew up in Machias, Maine, and died in Hollywood, California of a heart attack. He was one of the founders of the American Society of Cinematographers. Rosen was married to model and actress Joyzelle Joyner.
Passage 10:
Dana Blankstein
Dana Blankstein- Cohen( born March 3, 1981) is the director of the Israeli Academy of Film and Television. She is a film director, and an Israeli culture entrepreneur.
Question: Where did the director of film Extravagance (1930 Film) die?
Answer: Hollywood
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
Johnny Borrell
Jonathan "Johnny" Edward Borrell (born 4 April 1980 in Sutton, Surrey) is an English guitarist and singer, currently the front-man of the band Razorlight.
Passage 2:
Razorlight
Razorlight is an English indie rock band formed in 2002 by lead singer and rhythm guitarist Johnny Borrell. The band are primarily known in the UK, having topped the charts with the 2006 single "America" and its parent self-titled album, their second. Along with Borrell, the current lineup of the band consists of drummer David Sullivan Kaplan, lead guitarist Gus Robertson, and bassist João Mello.
Passage 3:
America (Razorlight song)
'America' is a song by English indie rock band Razorlight, and is the fourth track to their self-titled second studio album, "Razorlight" (2006). It was written by Johnny Borrell and Andy Burrows (credited to Borrell, Burrows, and Razorlight) and was also released as the second single from that album in October 2006.
Passage 4:
Avoid One Thing
Avoid One Thing was started as a side project by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones' bassist Joe Gittleman. The Boston-based group's first album, titled "Avoid One Thing", was released in 2002 on Side One Dummy Records. The album was written and recorded almost solely by Gittleman. Gittleman assembled a band with which to tour and play his music. Before the release of the band's next album in 2004, the band went through several lineup changes. John Lynch joined the band after Dave Karcich's death due to a sudden brain aneurysm. Later, Delano left and the band continued as a three-piece. The trio returned to the studio and released "Chopstick Bridge" on May 4, 2004. The album reflected the combined efforts of all three band members and sounds vastly different from their first in many respects; Amy Griffin and Gittleman even split lead vocals on a few tracks. After the release of this album, the band toured until February 2005 before going on hiatus. Since that time, Griffin has been playing guitar for Darkbuster and Gittleman has moved to Los Angeles and is once again a member of the reunited Bosstones. Paul Delano underwent emergency surgery in 2006 and a series of benefit shows were held. John Lynch has since joined up with David Minehan and is now playing drums for The Neighborhoods.
Passage 5:
Come All You Madmen
Come All You Madmen is the fourth album from Los Angeles-based punk rock band The Briggs. The album was released June 17, 2008 through SideOneDummy Records and was produced by The Mighty Mighty Bosstones' Joe Gittleman, as with their previous album "Back to Higher Ground".
Passage 6:
Hostage of Love
Hostage of Love is the second single from Razorlight's third studio album, Slipway Fires. Released on 12 January 2009, it has not received much commercial success or notice. In terms of critical reception, there have been mixed reviews; particularly harsh comments appeared in The Times and The Guardian newspapers. However, it is noteworthy that some of the more unsympathetic reviews misinterpreted songwriter Johnny Borrell's intended themes and lyrics, a fundamental aspect being the biblical imagery running throughout the song, not a result of some presumed messiah complex, but rather because during the songwriting process for Slipway Fires, Borrell "was learning a bit about Catholicism [and] was very interested in the concept that we’re ordinary sinners."
Passage 7:
Borrell 1
Borrell 1 is the debut studio album by English musician and Razorlight frontman Johnny Borrell. It was released in July 2013 under Universal Music.
Passage 8:
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones
The Mighty Mighty Bosstones (stylized as The Mighty Mighty BossToneS; informally referred to as The Bosstones) are an American ska punk band from Boston, Massachusetts, formed in 1983. Since the band's inception, lead vocalist Dicky Barrett, bassist Joe Gittleman, tenor saxophonist Tim "Johnny Vegas" Burton and dancer ("Bosstone") Ben Carr have remained constant members. The line-up also includes drummer Joe Sirois, saxophonist Leon Silva, guitarist Lawrence Katz and trombonist Chris Rhodes.
Passage 9:
Fluent in Stroll
Fluent In Stroll is the seventh studio album by the Boston ska punk band Big D and the Kids Table, released on July 7, 2009 by Side One Dummy Records. It was produced by Joe Gittleman of The Mighty Mighty Bosstones and features backing vocals by Sirae Richardson, Hayley Jane, and Nicole and Simone Olivia, who perform as the Doped Up Dollies. Its title refers to the band's new musical direction dubbed "stroll", a mix of double-Dutch, ska, reggae, and soul.
Passage 10:
Joe Gittleman
Joe Gittleman (born April 6, 1968 in Cambridge, Massachusetts) is an American musician, best known as the bass guitar player for The Mighty Mighty Bosstones. His proficiency on bass earned him the nickname "the Bass Fiddleman."
Question: Do Joe Gittleman and Johnny Borrell have the same nationality ?
Answer: no
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{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
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Passage 1:
Florence Roberts (stage actress)
Florence Roberts( February 14, 1871 – July 17, 1927) was an American stage actress and the second wife of actor Lewis Morrison. She was born in New York but raised in California and had early success in the San Francisco area beginning in 1889. She performed at the Baldwin Theatre and the Alcazar Theatre often playing Shakespearean parts. In 1905 she toured a play called" Ana La Mont" under the management of John Cort. She toured plays in the Western United States but seldom to New York. After World War I she toured South Africa in the stage adaptation of" Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch". After returning to the United States she appeared in a few silent films then retired. She died in Los Angeles 1927 after emergency surgery.
Passage 2:
Madge Carr Cook
Madge Carr Cook( 1856-1933) was an English- born American stage actress. She was most famous for creating the title role in the 1904 Broadway play" Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch". She was also famous as the mother of actress Eleanor Robson Belmont, a leading star of Broadway who retired from the stage after marrying into the wealthy Belmont family. Eleanor lived to be 100 years old. Cook was married twice, to Charles Robson who disappeared or deserted her in 1880 and to Augustus Cook whom she married in 1891 and who sued her for annulment of their marriage.
Passage 3:
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1919 film)
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch is a 1919 silent American comedy- drama film produced by Famous Players- Lasky Corporation and distributed through Paramount Pictures. Directed by Hugh Ford, the film stars Marguerite Clark and is based on the 1904 Broadway play by Anne Crawford Flexner, which itself is taken from the novel of the same name by Alice Hegan Rice. The picture survives and is preserved at the Library of Congress, one of Clark's few surviving silent films.
Passage 4:
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1934 film)
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch is a 1934 American comedy-drama film, directed by Norman Taurog, and is based on the 1904 Broadway play by Anne Crawford Flexner, which itself is taken from the novel of the same name by Alice Hegan Rice. The film stars Broadway stage actress Pauline Lord, and is one of only two films she appeared in. ZaSu Pitts and W. C. Fields appear in supporting roles. The 1934 version is the third film adaptation of the novel and play. The first film version was released in 1914, starring Blanche Chapman. The second version was released in 1919 and stars Mary Carr, while the fourth version was released in 1942 and stars Fay Bainter. The book was also adapted into a radio series which aired from 1935 to 1938.
Passage 5:
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1942 film)
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch is a 1942 American comedy- drama film starring Fay Bainter and directed by Ralph Murphy. It was based on the play by Anne Crawford Flexner that premiered on Broadway in 1904, which was in turn adapted from the 1901 novel of the same name by Alice Hegan Rice.
Passage 6:
Lovey Mary
Lovey Mary is a 1926 American comedy- drama film directed by King Baggot, with Bessie Love in the title role. It is based on the 1903 novel of the same name by Alice Hegan Rice, a sequel to Rice's" Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch". It was distributed by Metro- Goldwyn- Mayer. The film survives, but is incomplete.
Passage 7:
Alice Hegan Rice
Alice Hegan Rice, also known as Alice Caldwell Hegan, (January 11, 1870 – February 10, 1942) was an American novelist. Her 1901 novel Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch became a play and four films.
Passage 8:
Norman Taurog
Norman Rae Taurog (February 23, 1899 – April 7, 1981) was an American film director and screenwriter. From 1920 to 1968, Taurog directed 180 films. At the age of 32, he received the Academy Award for Best Director for "Skippy" (1931). He is the second youngest person ever to win the award after Damien Chazelle, who won for "La La Land" in 2017. He was later nominated for Best Director for the film "Boys Town" (1938). He directed some of the best-known actors of the twentieth century, including his nephew Jackie Cooper, Spencer Tracy, Mickey Rooney, Judy Garland, Deanna Durbin, Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly, Deborah Kerr, Peter Lawford, Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, and Elvis Presley. Taurog directed six Martin and Lewis films, and nine Elvis Presley films, more than any other director. For his contribution to the motion picture industry, Norman Taurog has a star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame at 1600 Vine Street.
Passage 9:
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch (1914 film)
Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch is a 1914 American silent comedy drama film directed by Harold Entwistle and starring Beatriz Michelena, Blanche Chapman and House Peters. It is based on the 1904 Broadway play by Anne Crawford Flexner, which itself is taken from the 1901 novel of the same name by Alice Hegan Rice.
Passage 10:
William Hodge
William Thomas Hodge( November 1, 1874 – January 30, 1932) was an American actor, playwright, and theatrical producer. He was born to Thomas Hodge and Mary Anderson. He appeared in the original 1904 Broadway hit play" Mrs. Wiggs of the Cabbage Patch Dream City"( 1906) by Victor Herbert and the huge hit play for which he's best remembered" The Man from Home"( 1908). The latter play was a huge success for him and he revived it over the years. With it he became along with other stars such as David Warfield and Rose Stahl an actor noted for a single huge success.
Question: Which award the director of film Mrs. Wiggs Of The Cabbage Patch (1934 Film) received?
Answer: Academy Award for Best Director
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{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
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Passage 1:
Kekuʻiapoiwa II
Kekuʻiapoiwa II was a Hawaiian chiefess and the mother of the king Kamehameha I.
Passage 2:
Ko Yong-hui
Ko Yong- hui( 26 June 1952 – 13 August 2004), also spelled Ko Young- hee, was the North Korean supreme leader Kim Jong- il's consort and the mother of North Korea's current leader, Kim Jong- un. Within North Korea she is only referred to by titles, such as" The Respected Mother who is the Most Faithful and Loyal' Subject' to the Dear Leader Comrade Supreme Commander The Mother of Pyongyang", and" The Mother of Great Songun Korea."
Passage 3:
Joan of Arc
Joan of Arc (French: Jeanne d'Arc ; 1412 – 30 May 1431), nicknamed "The Maid of Orléans" , is considered a heroine of France for her role during the Lancastrian phase of the Hundred Years' War, and was canonized as a Roman Catholic saint. She was born to Jacques d'Arc and Isabelle Romée, a peasant family, at Domrémy in northeast France. Joan claimed to have received visions of the archangel Michael, Saint Margaret, and Saint Catherine of Alexandria instructing her to support Charles VII and recover France from English domination late in the Hundred Years' War. The unanointed King Charles VII sent Joan to the Siege of Orléans as part of a relief army. She gained prominence after the siege was lifted only nine days later. Several additional swift victories led to Charles VII's consecration at Reims. This long-awaited event boosted French morale and paved the way for the final French victory. On 23 May 1430, she was captured at Compiègne by the Burgundian faction, a group of French nobles allied with the English. She was later handed over to the English and put on trial by the pro-English bishop Pierre Cauchon on a variety of charges. After Cauchon declared her guilty, she was burned at the stake on 30 May 1431, dying at about nineteen years of age. In 1456, an inquisitorial court authorized by Pope Callixtus III examined the trial, debunked the charges against her, pronounced her innocent, and declared her a martyr. In the 16th century she became a symbol of the Catholic League, and in 1803 she was declared a national symbol of France by the decision of Napoleon Bonaparte. She was beatified in 1909 and canonized in 1920. Joan of Arc is one of the nine secondary patron saints of France, along with Saint Denis, Saint Martin of Tours, Saint Louis, Saint Michael, Saint Rémi, Saint Petronilla, Saint Radegund and Saint Thérèse of Lisieux. Joan of Arc has remained a popular figure in literature, painting, sculpture, and other cultural works since the time of her death, and many famous writers, playwrights, filmmakers, artists, and composers have created, and continue to create, cultural depictions of her.
Passage 4:
Minamoto no Chikako
She was the mother of Prince Morinaga.
Passage 5:
Susan B. Nelson
Susan B. Nelson( April 13, 1927 – May 4, 2003) was an American environmental activist who is best known as the mother of the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area.
Passage 6:
Pierre d'Arc
Pierre d'Arc (1408 – 1467) was a French soldier whose place in history is due to his service in the army made famous by his younger sister Joan of Arc.
Passage 7:
Antoine Aveline
Antoine Aveline( 1691–1743) was a French engraver, son of Pierre Aveline and brother of Pierre- Alexandre Aveline.
Passage 8:
Margaret Trudeau
Margaret Joan Trudeau(" née" Sinclair, formerly Kemper; born September 10, 1948) is a Canadian author, actress, photographer, former television talk show hostess, and social advocate for people with bipolar disorder, with which she is diagnosed. She is the former wife of Pierre Trudeau, 15th Prime Minister of Canada; they divorced in 1984, during his final months in office. She is the mother of Justin Trudeau, who has been the 23rd Prime Minister of Canada since 2015; the journalist and author Alexandre" Sacha" Trudeau; and the deceased Michel Trudeau. She is the first woman in Canadian history to have been both the wife and the mother of a prime minister.
Passage 9:
Trinidad Tecson
Trinidad Perez Tecson (November 18, 1848 – January 28, 1928), known as the "Mother of Biak-na-Bato" and "Mother of Mercy", fought to gain Philippines independence. She was given the title "Mother of Biak-na-Bato" by Gen. Emilio Aguinaldo. She was also cited as the "Mother of the Philippine National Red Cross" for her service to her fellow Katipuneros.
Passage 10:
Fatima bint Mubarak Al Ketbi
Fatima bint Mubarak Al Ketbi is the third wife of Sheikh Zayed bin Sultan Al Nahyan, the founder and inaugural president of United Arab Emirates, and late emir( ruler) of Abu Dhabi. She is referred to as the mother of sheikhs and as the Mother of the UAE.
Question: Who is Pierre D'Arc's mother?
Answer: Isabelle Romée
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage: Rizzoli & Isles (TV Series 2010–2016) - IMDb
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Detective Jane Rizzoli and Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Maura Isles team up to solve crimes in Boston.
Creator:
A dead man is found handcuffed to a bed in his own home; as Korsak's retirement party approaches, everyone makes a video to say goodbye; the group says farewell and plans for their next adventure. ...
9.1
As the Boston Homicide detectives solve a murder, they each think of ways to say goodbye to Detective Barry Frost.
8.7
After an undercover cop working a narcotics-smuggling sting is shot dead, the killers next turn their sights on Boston homicide headquarters, leaving Jane, Maura and Frankie Jr. trapped in a fight ...
8.7
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Title: Rizzoli & Isles (2010–2016)
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4 wins & 7 nominations. See more awards »
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Deputy Police Chief Brenda Johnson runs the Priority Homicide Division of the LAPD with an unorthodox style. Her innate ability to read people and obtain confessions helps her and her team solve the city's toughest, most sensitive cases.
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Forensic anthropologist, Dr. Temperance "Bones" Brennan, and cocky FBI special agent Seeley Booth build a team to investigate murders - and quite often, there isn't more to examine than rotten flesh or mere bones.
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After a serial killer imitates the plots of his novels, successful mystery novelist Richard "Rick" Castle receives permission from the Mayor of New York City to tag along with an NYPD homicide investigation team for research purposes.
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NCIS: Los Angeles (TV Series 2009)
Crime | Drama | Mystery
The Naval Criminal Investigation Service's Office of Special Projects takes on the undercover work and the hard to crack cases in LA. Key agents are G. Callen and Sam Hanna, streets kids risen through the ranks.
Stars: Chris O'Donnell, Daniela Ruah, Barrett Foa
The cases of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service's Washington DC Major Case Response Team, led by Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Stars: Mark Harmon, Pauley Perrette, David McCallum
NCIS: New Orleans (TV Series 2014)
Crime | Drama
1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 6.8/10 X
A spin-off of NCIS (2003) about the local field office of NCIS that investigates criminal cases involving military personnel in The Big Easy, a city known for its music, entertainment and decadence. This colorful city that harbors a dark side is a magnet for service personnel on leave, and when overindulgence is followed by trouble, Special Agent Dwayne Pride's team is at its best.
Stars: Scott Bakula, Lucas Black, Rob Kerkovich
Hawaii Five-0 (TV Series 2010)
Action | Crime | Drama
Steve McGarrett returns home to Oahu, in order to find his father's killer. The governor offers him the chance to run his own task force (Five-0). Steve's team is joined by Chin Ho Kelly, Danny "Danno" Williams, and Kono Kalakaua.
Stars: Alex O'Loughlin, Scott Caan, Daniel Dae Kim
A single mom NYPD homicide detective cracks case after case while raising wild twin boys and locking horns with her less than helpful police detective ex-husband.
Stars: Debra Messing, Laz Alonso, Josh Lucas
Criminal Minds (TV Series 2005)
Crime | Drama | Mystery
The cases of the FBI Behavioral Analysis Unit (BAU), an elite group of profilers who analyze the nation's most dangerous serial killers and individual heinous crimes in an effort to anticipate their next moves before they strike again.
Stars: Matthew Gray Gubler, Kirsten Vangsness, Thomas Gibson
Storyline
Detective Jane Rizzoli and Chief Medical Examiner Dr. Maura Isles team up to solve crimes in Boston.
Little girls are sugar and spice...and everything vice. See more »
Genres:
12 July 2010 (USA) See more »
Also Known As:
Did You Know?
Trivia
On January 7, 2016 TNT announced the show will be cancelled. A 13 Episode long seventh, and final, season will air the summer of 2016. See more »
Goofs
Often, when Det. Jane Rizzoli pulls her pistol, there is an audible sound of the hammer being cocked. However, her sidearm is a Glock 19, which does not have an external hammer; the only way to cock the internal hammer is to move the entire slide rearward. See more »
Connections
(United States) – See all my reviews
As a female lawyer who truly loves the law and everything that has to do with crime and punishment and as a self-proclaimed connoisseur of crime TV, I must write my first review and express how overjoyed I am with this show! I'm already anxious to buy the show on DVD, and I've only seen one episode. If the rest of this season is anything compared to the first episode I know that I can look forward to many more seasons. Rizzoli (Harmon) is believable as the tough girl who honors the law (yet is able to maintain her incredible sexiness at the same time.) And Isles (Sasha) is the fashionista who crazily enough loves her often disgusting job as the medical examiner. (She also brings a lot of the subtle humor with her character's attitude.) I identified with both main characters, found there was enough excitement to keep my attention throughout the entire episode(and enough humor...but not too much) and was left with heightened anticipation until next week.
62 of 97 people found this review helpful. Was this review helpful to you?
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Question: Detective Jane Rizzoli and Doctor Maura Isles work for the Police Department in which city in US author Tess Gerritsen’s crime novels?
Answer: {'aliases': ['City of Boston', 'Boston,MA', 'Economy of Boston', 'Boston, Massachussets', "Boston's", 'Boston, ma', 'Boston, Massachusets', 'Boston Massachusetts', 'Boston, United States', 'Wahstoronòn:ke', 'Boston, Massachusetts, USA', 'Boston Mass', 'Boston, Massachessets', 'Boston, Massachussetts', 'Boston, Massachusetts, US', 'Bosotn', 'The weather in Boston', 'Boston,Massachusetts', 'Boston, Mass', 'Boston, Massachusettes', 'Boston, Massachussettes', 'Boston, Massachusetts', 'The hub of the universe', 'Boston mass', 'Boston massachusetts', 'Boston Weather', 'Beantown', 'BOSTON', 'Bofton', 'Boston, USA', 'Boston, mass', 'Education in Boston', 'Boston ma', 'Boston, MA', 'Boston, US', 'Boston (Mass.)', 'Boston MA', 'Demographics of Boston', 'Geography of Boston', 'Religion in Boston', 'Boston (MA)', 'Capital of Massachusetts', 'Puritan City', 'Boston, Massachusetts, United States of America', 'Politics of Boston', 'Boston', 'Boston, Mass.', 'The Hub of the Universe', 'Boston, Massachusetts, United States', 'Bean Town', 'Bawstun', 'UN/LOCODE:USBOS', 'Massachusetts/Boston'], 'normalized_aliases': ['bofton', 'religion in boston', 'weather in boston', 'demographics of boston', 'boston s', 'hub of universe', 'massachusetts boston', 'boston massachussettes', 'boston usa', 'city of boston', 'boston ma', 'geography of boston', 'capital of massachusetts', 'education in boston', 'boston massachussetts', 'boston', 'boston massachusets', 'boston massachusettes', 'un locode usbos', 'beantown', 'bean town', 'politics of boston', 'bawstun', 'boston us', 'boston weather', 'boston united states', 'boston massachusetts united states of america', 'boston massachusetts us', 'boston massachusetts', 'puritan city', 'economy of boston', 'boston massachusetts usa', 'boston massachusetts united states', 'boston massachessets', 'boston mass', 'boston massachussets', 'bosotn', 'wahstoronòn ke'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'boston', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'BOSTON'}
Passage: The Night Café by Van Gogh | Van Gogh Gallery
Terminos de Busqueda de Google
The Night Café
Night Café by Van Gogh was painted in September 1888 while he was living in Arles. Earlier in the year he had moved to a room at the Café de la Gare, where the room depicted in this painting was. Van Gogh stayed there for a few months over the summer while he furnished what would become known as “The Yellow House”, where he would famously live with Gauguin for a brief time.
In the center of the canvas Van Gogh shows a billiards table not being used. We see 3 walls of the room with a door opposite the viewer. The walls are lined with tables and chairs, some occupied by figures, hunched over the tables. Most of the six figures are men, but there is a woman at one table. Standing close to the pool table, leaning on another table is a standing figure wearing white, the owner of the café. On the far wall by the door there is a bar with bottles on top and a vase of flowers in the center. Van Gogh’s exaggerated perspective creates disorienting angles and results with the majority of the painting being filled with the deep yellow floor. The walls are a rich red, contrasting with the yellow floors and yellow lights hanging from the ceiling.
Van Gogh was interested in painting night scenes, as can be seen in his paintings of Starry Night and Café Terrace at Night . Today, we are lucky to know so much about Van Gogh’s paintings by the hundreds of letters that Vincent wrote. In one such letter, he said “the night is much more alive and richly colored than the day.” Prior to painting Night Café, Vincent wrote that he was planning to paint the room and the “Night prowlers” as he called those that spent the nights there. Van Gogh was interested in these people that stayed there because they “had no money to pay for a lodging, or are too drunk to be taken in.” He imagined that they saw themselves as travelers without a native land, and he himself imagined himself the same way. While he didn’t see himself like them, he imagined having similar feelings.
In a letter to his brother, Van Gogh called the painting “the ugliest I’ve done” and gave it to Joseph Ginoux the owner of the café as payment for his room. His calling the painting ugly is also a description of the room and the feeling you get from it. In his description of the painting, he uses words like “blood-red” to describe the color on the walls, “battle” to describe the contrast of reds and greens, and refers to those in the room as “ruffians.” The harsh colors and disorienting perspective reflect the overall sadness, bitterness, and loneliness, of those in the room. All of this adds up to an idea of if you are in this café at that late hour, something isn’t going right in your life.
Van Gogh spent three nights painting this room sleeping during the day. He saw this as showing “terrible human passions” and that one can “ruin themselves” in a place like this café. Vincent didn’t praise this painting in his letters, but spoke of it in the same sentences as The Potato Eaters and The Sower, two paintings that he was very proud of.
Question: Who painted The Night Café in 1888?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Vincent Willem Van Gogh', 'Vincent van Gogh', 'Vincent VanGogh', 'Vangogh', "Van Gogh's ear", 'Van go', 'Vincent Van Gogh', 'Vincent Willem van Gogh', "Vincent van Gogh's ear", 'Van Goth', 'Van Gough', 'Vince Van Gogh', 'Van Gogh', 'Vince van Gogh', 'Vincent Van Goth', 'Vincent van gogh', 'Van goh', 'Vincent Van Gough', 'VINCENT VAN GOGH', 'Van Goh', 'Vincent Van gough'], 'normalized_aliases': ['van gough', 'vangogh', 'van gogh', 'vincent van gogh', 'van gogh s ear', 'van goth', 'vincent van gogh s ear', 'vincent van goth', 'vince van gogh', 'vincent vangogh', 'van goh', 'vincent van gough', 'van go', 'vincent willem van gogh'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'vincent van gogh', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'VINCENT VAN GOGH'}
Passage: Damon Albarn - Music on Google Play
Damon Albarn
About the artist
Damon Albarn, OBE is an English musician, singer-songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and record producer. He is the lead singer of the alternative rock band Blur as well as co-founder, vocalist, instrumentalist and principal songwriter of the virtual band Gorillaz.
Raised in Leytonstone, East London and around Colchester, Essex, Albarn attended the Stanway School, where he met Graham Coxon and eventually formed Blur, whose debut album Leisure was released in 1991 to mixed reviews. After spending long periods of time touring the US, Albarn's songwriting became increasingly influenced by British bands from the 1960s. The result of these influences came in the form of Modern Life Is Rubbish, Parklife and The Great Escape. All three albums received critical acclaim while Blur gained mass popularity in the UK, aided by a Britpop rivalry with Oasis. Subsequent albums such as Blur, 13, Think Tank and The Magic Whip contained influences from lo-fi, electronic and hip hop music.
Along with Tank Girl creator Jamie Hewlett, Albarn formed the "virtual band" Gorillaz in 1998.
1
$10.49
Everyday Robots is the debut solo studio album by British musician Damon Albarn, best known as the frontman of Blur and Gorillaz. Described by Albarn as his "most personal record", the album was co...
1
Blur
0
Blur are an English rock band, formed in London in 1988. The group consists of singer/keyboardist Damon Albarn, guitarist/singer Graham Coxon, bassist Alex James and drummer Dave Rowntree. Their de...
0
Graham Coxon
0
Graham Leslie Coxon is an English musician, singer-songwriter and painter who came to prominence as a founding member of the rock band Blur. As the group's lead guitarist and secondary vocalist, Co...
0
Rocket Juice & the Moon
0
Rocket Juice & the Moon is the eponymously titled album by the supergroup of the same name, formed in 2008. The group consists Damon Albarn of Blur and Gorillaz, Flea of Red Hot Chili Peppers and T...
0
John Grant
0
John Grant is an American singer-songwriter. Formerly associated with the Denver-based alternative rock band The Czars in the 1990s and early 2000s, he launched a career as a solo artist in 2010.
I...
Gaz Coombes
0
Gareth "Gaz" Michael Coombes is an English musician and singer-songwriter, best known as the lead vocalist and guitarist of the English alternative rock band Supergrass. He first entered the music ...
0
Jarvis Cocker
0
Jarvis Branson Cocker is an English musician, singer-songwriter, actor, voice actor, radio presenter and music video director. He initially found success as the frontman of the band Pulp, becoming ...
0
Gorillaz
0
Gorillaz are a British virtual band created in 1998 by Damon Albarn and Jamie Hewlett. The band consists of four animated members: 2D, Murdoc Niccals, Noodle and Russel Hobbs. These members are com...
0
Gruff Rhys
0
Gruffydd Maredudd Bowen Rhys is a Welsh musician, composer, producer, filmmaker and author. He performs solo and with several bands, including Super Furry Animals who obtained mainstream success in...
0
Brett Anderson
0
Brett Lewis Anderson is an English singer-songwriter, best known as the lead vocalist of the band Suede. After Suede disbanded in 2003, he briefly fronted The Tears, and has released four solo albu...
0
Philip Selway
0
Philip James "Phil" Selway is an English musician, singer, and songwriter best known as the drummer of English rock group Radiohead. In addition to drums, he provides backing vocals, along with occ...
0
FFS
0
FFS is a supergroup formed by Scottish indie rock band Franz Ferdinand and American rock-pop band Sparks, signed to the Domino Recording Company. Their formation was announced on 9 March 2015, but ...
0
Anna Calvi
0
Anna Margaret Michelle Calvi is an English singer-songwriter and guitarist. Her eponymous debut album was released in the United Kingdom in 2011 and was nominated for the Mercury Prize and earned h...
0
Atoms For Peace
0
Atoms for Peace are an English-American alternative rock supergroup, formed in 2009 by Radiohead singer Thom Yorke to perform songs from his debut solo album, The Eraser. The band comprises Yorke, ...
0
Toy
0
TOY are an English indie rock band from Brighton. They have released three albums, an EP and a number of singles. In 2015, the band collaborated with Natasha Khan on the Sexwitch project.
0
I Am Kloot
0
I Am Kloot are an English rock band formed in Manchester in 1999. The band consists of vocalist/guitarist John Bramwell, bassist Peter Jobson and drummer Andy Hargreaves.
The band have released six...
0
Question: Damon Albarn was lead singer and guitarist with which UK chart-topping group in the 1990s?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Kal (Smallville)', 'BLUR', 'Superman (Smallville)', 'The Blur (Clark Kent)', 'Superboy (Smallville)', 'The Blur (Smallville)', 'The Blur', 'The Red and Blue Blur', 'The Blue Blur', 'Kal-El (Smallville)', 'Red Blue Blur', 'Red-Blue Blur', 'Clark Kent (Smallville)'], 'normalized_aliases': ['red and blue blur', 'blur clark kent', 'red blue blur', 'blur', 'blur smallville', 'superboy smallville', 'clark kent smallville', 'kal smallville', 'blue blur', 'superman smallville', 'kal el smallville'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'blur', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'BLUR'}
Passage: 'Schindler's List': 25 Things You Didn't Know About the Landmark Holocaust Drama | Moviefone
'Schindler's List': 25 Things You Didn't Know About the Landmark Holocaust Drama
by Gary Susman
Everett Collection
" Schindler's List " already looked like an instant classic the moment it was released 20 years ago this week (on December 15, 1993). Shot in timeless black-and-white, Steven Spielberg's based-in-fact account of Oskar Schindler, the German industrialist who saved 1,200 Jews from the Polish city of Krakow during the Holocaust by putting them on his factory payroll, became a landmark film, becoming the definitive depiction of the Holocaust for many viewers around the world. It also made a star out of Ralph Fiennes , an A-lister out of Liam Neeson , and an Oscar-winner out of Spielberg, who proved once and for all that he was not just a director of kiddie fantasies.
Two decades have done nothing but burnish the film's reputation as an artistic masterpiece and educational tool. Still, even though everyone's seen it, there's plenty you probably don't know about how it got made, from the project's birth in a Beverly Hills luggage store, to the directors who almost shot it, to the surreal ways Spielberg coped with the horrors he was recreating every day. Here, then, are 25 things you didn't know about " Schindler's List "
1. Poldek Pfefferberg, one of the Jews Schindler saved, spent more than 40 years trying to get a film about Schindler made. Having emigrated to the U.S. in 1948 and opened a luggage store in Beverly Hills that brought him into contact with high-profile Hollywood folk, he tried as early as 1951 to interest director Fritz Lang (himself a German émigré) in Schindler's story. Finally, he persuaded Australian author Thomas Keneally to write the 1982 novel "Schindler's Ark" that would become the basis for "Schindler's List."
2. Steven Spielberg was quick to acquire the rights but felt that, in his late 30s, he wasn't yet mature enough to handle the subject. He tried to pass it off to other directors, but they all said no. Sydney Pollack begged off, having addressed the Holocaust in " The Pawnbroker ." Roman Polanski , who had himself survived the Holocaust as a child in Krakow, felt the material was too close to his own life for objectivity, though he did eventually direct a true-life Holocaust story, " The Pianist ." Martin Scorsese thought it would be better to have a Jewish director tell the story, but he reluctantly agreed, until Spielberg took it back, swapping the project with " Cape Fear ."
3. Universal agreed to let Spielberg direct the film, provided he shoot " Jurassic Park " first. Spielberg agreed, knowing he wouldn't feel like making a dinosaur movie after finishing "Schindler's List."
4. Branko Lustig lobbied to produce the movie for Spielberg by rolling up his sleeve and showing him his tattooed serial number from Auschwitz. In fact, as a producer, Lustig had already filmed at Auschwitz for the TV mini-series "War and Remembrance."
5. A number of high-profile leading men were up for the role of Schindler, from Kevin Costner to Mel Gibson to Warren Beatty , but Spielberg didn't want to cast anyone with movie-star baggage, about whom the audience would bring preconceived notions. He settled on Liam Neeson after seeing him on Broadway in a revival of " Anna Christie ."
6. For Nazi overseen Amon Goeth, Spielberg picked the even more obscure Ralph Fiennes after seeing him in the 1992 film version of " Wuthering Heights " and the TV movie " A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia ."
7. Fiennes gained 28 pounds to play Goeth. His performance was so dead-on that Pfefferberg's wife, Mila, went into a trembling fit when she met Fiennes in character.
8. Spielberg refused a salary on the project, considering any fee he might receive to be "blood money."
9. The director decided to shoot in black and white for several reasons. It reminded him of documentary footage of the Holocaust. It had a timeless quality to it. And he felt that the film should be drained of color to reflect the draining of life during the Holocaust.
10. Most of the film was shot on location in Krakow, in the actual remnants of the Jewish ghetto. The Plaszow concentration camp was rebuilt in a pit on the edge of town, but that was the only major set construction.
11. At Auschwitz, Spielberg shot outside the gates but not inside, out of respect for the dead.
12. "The most moving thing that happened for me was on Passover," Spielberg said in an interview upon the film's release. "We had Passover at the hotel, and all the young German actors who were playing Nazis came in with yarmulkes and haggadahs [Passover prayer books] and sat with the Israeli actors and took part in the Passover service. I wept like a baby."
13. After shooting Holocaust scenes all day, Spielberg spent his evenings editing footage from " Jurassic Park ," which he'd shot the previous autumn.
14. Part of Lustig's producing job was wrangling locals as extras. Talking to Time magazine in 2013, he recalled that the most painful part of the shoot was recruiting children to sing songs while they were being herded onto trucks as the ghetto was liquidated. "I was the one who went to schools in Krakow to ask the little children to sing the song, and brought them to the location we built, to march and sing," Lustig recalled. "That was the first time and the only time during the shoot when Steven came to me and took me away."
15. For Spielberg, the hardest moment was the sequence when the Polish extras, playing concentration camp prisoners, were stripped and humiliated. He said he couldn't actually watch that part of the shoot. Frequently during the filming, he would break down in tears.
16. To cheer himself up, Spielberg had Robin Williams phone him. He also would watch episodes of "Seinfeld" -- probably not imagining that there would be an episode of "Seinfeld" where Jerry causes outrage by making out with his new girlfriend throughout a screening of "Schindler's List."
17. In one of the film's few instances of color, Spielberg's camera singled out a little girl in a red coat. She was played by Oliwia Dabrowska, then 3. Spielberg warned her not to watch the completed film until she was 18, but she saw it when she was 11 and was traumatized. But she watched it again at 18. "I realized I had been part of something I could be proud of," she told the London Times in 2013. "Spielberg was right: I had to grow up to watch the film."
19. In real life, there actually was a little girl in Krakow known for her red coat, Roma Ligocka. She survived the Holocaust, and she published a memoir in 2002, "The Girl in the Red Coat."
20. The film cost a modest $22 million to make. It went on to earn $96 million in North America and another $225 million overseas.
21. At the Warsaw premiere, there was a klezmer band up front, playing traditional Eastern-European Jewish music. "I didn't know that Steven plays saxophone," Lustig said of Spielberg. "He took the saxophone and played with them for five or six minutes. And I'll say he played very well"
22. "Schindler's List" was nominated for 12 Academy Awards. It won seven, including Best Picture, Best Director (Spielberg's first Oscar in that category), Best Adapted Screenplay (to Steven Zaillian), Best Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction, and Best Original Score. Neeson and Fiennes were nominated for their performances but didn't win.
23. Not everyone loved it. Most of the complaints came from scholars, rather than popular-press critics. Author Sara Horowitz noted that the focus on Goeth as villain ignored the role that ordinary Germans and Poles played in the Holocaust. Brown University history professor Omer Bartov noted that the Jewish actors all seemed small and furtive compared to the large and imposing Neeson and Fiennes, and that they seemed like spectators to their own story instead of protagonists. Filmmaker Claude Lanzmann, whose epic "Shoah" is considered the definitive Holocaust documentary, called "Schindler's List" a "kitschy melodrama" and a "deformation of historical truth," and criticized Spielberg for presenting the story from the point of view of a German protagonist.
24. Neeson and Fiennes reunited in 2010's " Clash of the Titans " and 2012's " Wrath of the Titans ," as Zeus and Hades, respectively.
25. Spielberg was inspired by the project to star the Shoah Foundation and record the testimony of as many Holocaust survivors as possible. To date, it has preserved more than 50,000 interviews.
Question: Which actor played the part of Oskar Schindler in the film Schindler’s List?
Answer: {'aliases': ['LIAM NEESON', 'William John Neeson OBE', 'Liam Neesom', 'William John Neeson, OBE', 'Liam neeson', 'Liam Neesons', 'William John %22Liam%22 Neeson OBE', 'Neeson, Liam', 'Liam Neesan', 'Liam John Neeson', 'Liam Neeson.htm', 'Liam Neesen', 'William John %22Liam%22 Neeson', 'Liam Neeson', 'Liam Neesin', 'William John Neeson', 'William John %22Liam%22 Neeson, OBE'], 'normalized_aliases': ['william john 22liam 22 neeson obe', 'liam neesons', 'william john 22liam 22 neeson', 'william john neeson obe', 'liam neesin', 'liam neesom', 'liam neesen', 'liam john neeson', 'liam neeson', 'william john neeson', 'liam neesan', 'neeson liam', 'liam neeson htm'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'liam neeson', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'LIAM NEESON'}
Passage: YIFY TV Series - Download YIFY TV Series
Drama
Mad Men is set in the 1960s, initially at the fictional Sterling Cooper advertising agency on Madison Avenue in New York City, and later at the newly created firm, Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, located nearby in the Time-Life Building, at 1271 Avenue of the Americas. According to the show's pilot, the phrase "mad men" was a slang term coined in the 1950s by advertisers working on Madison Avenue to refer to themselves. The focal point of the series is Don Draper, creative director at Sterling Cooper and a founding partner at Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce, and the people in his life, both in and out of the office. The plot focuses on the business of the agencies as well as the personal lives of the characters, regularly depicting the changing moods and social mores of the United States in the 1960s.
Mad Men YIFY TV
Score: 7.8/10 from 87 votes
First Air Date: 2007-07-19
Season 1 Episode 1 Smoke Gets in Your Eyes
First Air Date: 2007-07-19 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 2 Ladies Room
First Air Date: 2007-07-26 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 3 Marriage of Figaro
First Air Date: 2007-08-02 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 4 New Amsterdam
First Air Date: 2007-08-09 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 5 Five G
First Air Date: 2007-08-16 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 6 Babylon
First Air Date: 2007-08-23 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 7 Red in the Face
First Air Date: 2007-08-30 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 8 The Hobo Code
First Air Date: 2007-09-06 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 9 Shoot
First Air Date: 2007-09-13 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 10 Long Weekend
First Air Date: 2007-09-27 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 11 Indian Summer
First Air Date: 2007-10-04 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 12 Nixon vs. Kennedy
First Air Date: 2007-10-11 | Duration: 60 min
Season 1 Episode 13 The Wheel
First Air Date: 2007-10-18 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 1 For Those Who Think Young
First Air Date: 2008-07-27 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 2 Flight 1
First Air Date: 2008-08-03 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 3 The Benefactor
First Air Date: 2008-08-10 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 4 Three Sundays
First Air Date: 2008-08-17 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 5 The New Girl
First Air Date: 2008-08-24 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 6 Maidenform
First Air Date: 2008-08-31 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 7 The Gold Violin
First Air Date: 2008-09-07 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 8 A Night to Remember
First Air Date: 2008-09-14 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 9 Six Month Leave
First Air Date: 2008-09-28 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 10 The Inheritance
First Air Date: 2008-10-05 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 11 The Jet Set
First Air Date: 2008-10-12 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 12 The Mountain King
First Air Date: 2008-10-19 | Duration: 60 min
Season 2 Episode 13 Meditations in an Emergency
First Air Date: 2008-10-26 | Duration: 60 min
Season 3 Episode 1 Out of Town
First Air Date: 2009-08-16 | Duration: 60 min
Season 3 Episode 2 Love Among the Ruins
First Air Date: 2009-08-23 | Duration: 60 min
Season 3 Episode 3 My Old Kentucky Home
First Air Date: 2009-08-30 | Duration: 60 min
Season 3 Episode 4 The Arrangements
First Air Date: 2009-09-06 | Duration: 60 min
Season 3 Episode 5 The Fog
First Air Date: 2009-09-13 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 3 The Good News
First Air Date: 2010-08-08 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 4 The Rejected
First Air Date: 2010-08-15 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 5 The Chrysanthemum and the Sword
First Air Date: 2010-08-22 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 6 Waldorf Stories
First Air Date: 2010-08-29 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 7 The Suitcase
First Air Date: 2010-09-05 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 8 The Summer Man
First Air Date: 2010-09-12 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 9 The Beautiful Girls
First Air Date: 2010-09-19 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 10 Hands and Knees
First Air Date: 2010-09-26 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 11 Chinese Wall
First Air Date: 2010-10-03 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 12 Blowing Smoke
First Air Date: 2010-10-10 | Duration: 60 min
Season 4 Episode 13 Tomorrowland
First Air Date: 2010-10-17 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 1 A Little Kiss (1)
First Air Date: 2012-03-25 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 2 A Little Kiss (2)
First Air Date: 2012-03-25 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 3 Tea Leaves
First Air Date: 2012-04-01 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 4 Mystery Date
First Air Date: 2012-04-08 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 5 Signal 30
First Air Date: 2012-04-15 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 6 Far Away Places
First Air Date: 2012-04-22 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 7 At the Codfish Ball
First Air Date: 2012-04-29 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 8 Lady Lazarus
First Air Date: 2012-05-06 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 9 Dark Shadows
First Air Date: 2012-05-13 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 10 Christmas Waltz
First Air Date: 2012-05-20 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 11 The Other Woman
First Air Date: 2012-05-27 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 12 Commissions and Fees
First Air Date: 2012-06-03 | Duration: 60 min
Season 5 Episode 13 The Phantom
First Air Date: 2012-06-10 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 1 The Doorway (1)
First Air Date: 2013-04-07 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 2 The Doorway (2)
First Air Date: 2013-04-07 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 3 The Collaborators
First Air Date: 2013-04-14 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 4 To Have and to Hold
First Air Date: 2013-04-21 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 5 The Flood
First Air Date: 2013-04-28 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 6 For Immediate Release
First Air Date: 2013-05-05 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 7 Man With a Plan
First Air Date: 2013-05-12 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 8 The Crash
First Air Date: 2013-05-19 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 9 The Better Half
First Air Date: 2013-05-26 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 10 A Tale of Two Cities
First Air Date: 2013-06-02 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 11 Favors
First Air Date: 2013-06-09 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 12 The Quality of Mercy
First Air Date: 2013-06-16 | Duration: 60 min
Season 6 Episode 13 In Care Of
First Air Date: 2013-06-23 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 1 Time Zones
First Air Date: 2014-04-13 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 2 A Day's Work
First Air Date: 2014-04-20 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 3 Field Trip
First Air Date: 2014-04-27 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 4 The Monolith
First Air Date: 2014-05-04 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 5 The Runaways
First Air Date: 2014-05-11 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 6 The Strategy
First Air Date: 2014-05-18 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 7 Waterloo
First Air Date: 2014-05-25 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 8 Severance
First Air Date: 2015-04-05 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 9 New Business
First Air Date: 2015-04-12 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 10 The Forecast
First Air Date: 2015-04-19 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 11 Time & Life
First Air Date: 2015-04-26 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 12 Lost Horizon
First Air Date: 2015-05-03 | Duration: 60 min
Season 7 Episode 13 The Milk and Honey Route
First Air Date: 2015-05-10 | Duration: 60 min
Question: Which US TV series is set in the 1960s, initially at the fictional Sterling Cooper advertising agency on Madison Avenue in New York City, and later at the newly created firm Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Mad Men', 'Mad men tv series', 'Mad Men TV', 'Mad men', 'Mad Men (TV Series)', 'MadMen', '5G (Mad Men episode)', 'Sterling Cooper', 'Sterling Cooper Draper Pryce', 'Mad Men (TV series)', 'SCDP', 'Indian Summer (Mad Men episode)'], 'normalized_aliases': ['mad men tv', 'mad men', 'mad men tv series', 'sterling cooper draper pryce', 'indian summer mad men episode', 'madmen', 'scdp', '5g mad men episode', 'sterling cooper'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'mad men', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'Mad Men'}
|
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"task_name": "trivia_qa"
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Passage 1:
Brave New Hope
Brave New Hope is a extended play compact disc by Polish-born pop jazz singer Basia. It was released in the United States on September 24, 1991. In its original release (Epic CD 49K-73593) it featured seven songs. Of these the title track is presented twice: in its original version as first presented on the album "London Warsaw New York" and also in a new mix (subtitled "Brave New Mix"). The other tracks consist of new mixes of two other songs from "London Warsaw New York": "Until You Come Back to Me (That's What I'm Gonna Do)" and "Cruising for Bruising", a new mix of "From Now On" from the album "Time and Tide", and two song, "Masquerade" and "Come to Heaven", that were previously unreleased on CD. A later release of the EP (Epic CD EK 48644) added two more songs, "Give Me That" and "Forgive and Forget", that had been issued previously only in Europe.
Passage 2:
Apocalypse Live in USA
Apocalypse Live in USA is the first live album by Brazilian progressive rock group APocalypse. The Rock Symphony Record Company release the band's double-live album recorded at North Carolina including a multimedia track with the band's history, discography, video clips, and photos. The tracks were taken from their previous CDs released by Musea Records, but there are also the Refúgio album tracks "América do Sul," "ProgJazz," and "Toccata." There is also a track called "Clássicos," which features rock versions of songs by Grieg ("In the Hall of the Mountain King"), Beethoven ("Symphony No. 9"), Bach ("Minuet From the Notebook of Ana Magdalena Bach"), Mozart ("Rondo Alla Turca, From Sonata in A"), and Tchaikovsky ("Russian Dance" from The Nutcracker Suite). Also, "Paz da Solidão" features Ravel ("Bolero").
Passage 3:
The Greater Key
The Greater Key is a compilation of remixes of recordings of the electro-industrial band Asmodeus X. It was released in North America through Next-Gen Records on July 11, 2008. This two-disc style release contained 20 tracks, one of which was a re-release and a second track that was a new release by the band, entitled "Wewelsburg 2". A 21st track was unreleased. The album included remix tracks by prominent genre DJs and groups, including Masquerade, Weltklang, The Evolutionaries (best known as a contributor to the Xbox 360 Dead Rising soundtrack), Endymion Stark of Written in Ashes and Chris Lane from Bozo Porno Circus. The Third International (T3I), a side project of Provision, and Jonathan Kramm from Phase Theory also contributed.
Passage 4:
Stranger in Us All
Stranger in Us All is the eighth studio album by the reformed British hard rock band Rainbow, released in 1995. Guitarist Ritchie Blackmore put together a new version of Rainbow with little-known musicians in 1994. It was originally intended to be his solo album, but due to the label BMG pressures, the record was billed as Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow. This line-up only released the one album before Blackmore decided to pursue different musical styles and formed Blackmore's Night with his companion Candice Night. As such, this album marked his final rock and roll recordings for two decades, before putting together a new Rainbow in 2016. The album takes its name from a line in the song "Black Masquerade".
Passage 5:
Final Masquerade
"Final Masquerade" is a song by American rock band Linkin Park. The song was originally recorded by the band for their sixth studio album, "The Hunting Party", where it appears as the eleventh track on the album and serves as the third single. The song premiered on MTV on June 8, 2014. The song was produced by Mike Shinoda and Brad Delson, and co-produced by Emile Haynie.
Passage 6:
The Stryder
The Stryder was a band hailing from Long Island, NY. The Band was formed by Peter Toh and Scottie Redix in 1999 after their previous project, Yearly, disbanded following the departure of bassist Eben D'amico who left to join Saves the Day. They added a vocalist and bassist, John Johansen and Nick Wendel (Respectively). They released a 7" on Elkion Records titled "The Hits Just Keep on Comin" and shortly after signed a deal to Equal Vision Records and released their debut album "Masquerade in the Key of Crime" in the summer 2000. The band toured extensively and began writing new material in 2001. They added former Glassjaw drummer Durijah Lang, and moved Scottie Redix up to Guitar and backing vocals. In the summer of 2001 the band parted ways with vocalist John Johansen. 2002 saw the release of "Jungle City Twitch". Debuting a new sound, The Stryder continued to tour the country in support of the new release. In 2003/2004, Elkion Records released "Savor The Danger" which contained a collection of old demos and the 2 songs from the 7" previously released on the label. Peter released his first solo EP "Cleopatra" in 2004 on Elkion Records. Durijah moved on to become the drummer of Classic Case and in 2007, became Pete Parada's replacement in Saves The Day. In 2006, Peter then went on to start an Internet TV/New Media Company, Hidden Track TV with Adam Schleichkorn, and released a solo EP titled "Shoes of a Beast". Peter is currently working on his first full-length album, titled "Wildlife". Scottie Redix now plays under the moniker 'Cassonova Brown' and is currently working on his first full-length. The Working title for the album is"On the Wall" and there are 2demos available on Soundcloud.com. Scottie is also a member of the musical collective Teachers, who also have a full-length album titled "Anesthesia" slated for an early 2013 release. Teachers contributed to Kanye West's "Monster".
Passage 7:
Victory (Running Wild album)
Victory is the eleventh studio album by German band Running Wild. It is the third and final album in a trilogy of a theme of good versus evil, started with "Masquerade" and continued with "The Rivalry", and is the only album in their discography not to include any pirate-themed songs/topics.
Passage 8:
The Hunting Party (album)
The Hunting Party is the sixth studio album by American rock band Linkin Park. The album, produced by band members Mike Shinoda and Brad Delson, was released by Warner Bros. Records and Machine Shop on June 13, 2014. It is the first album since "Meteora" (2003) not to be produced with Rick Rubin, after producing the band's previous three studio albums. The title "The Hunting Party" is a contextual metaphor: Linkin Park is the party that is hunting to bring back the energy and soul of rock.
Passage 9:
Death's Design
Death's Design is Blakkheim's fourth and final album, released under the moniker of Diabolical Masquerade and his most experimental. The album is broken up into 20 movements, the shortest of which is just 6 seconds long. Also the album seems to be without genre, changing directions many times. According to the last update of Blakkheim's website it was to be an original motion picture soundtrack to a movie that was never made but that turned out to be a prank on everyone by Blakkheim. The European version features 61 tracks while the US release has 36, both have a similar length.
Passage 10:
The Final Curtain
The Final Curtain is a compilation album and DVD by the Pompano Beach, Florida rock band Further Seems Forever, released in 2007 by 567 Records. The album includes the band's final live performance recorded on June 17, 2006 at The Masquerade in Atlanta, Georgia, as well as several rare and previously unreleased songs. The DVD contains video of the final performance, a band interview, photo gallery, and behind the scenes footage.
Question: What company release the album the contained "Final Masquerade"?
Answer: Warner Bros.
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Document: Two major questions surrounding Thursday’s shooting rampage at Excel Industries in Hesston appeared to have been answered Friday:
What triggered Excel employee Cedric Ford to return to the plant after his break and shoot 17 people, three fatally?
And where did Ford get the weapons used in the attack?
Harvey County Sheriff T. Walton said Friday that the sheriff’s office served Ford, 38, with a protection from abuse order from his ex-girlfriend in Wichita at about 3:30 p.m. Thursday at the Excel plant.
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Walton said he thinks that was likely what triggered the attack, which began about 90 minutes later.
The mother of Ford’s two children, Sarah J. Hopkins of Newton, is facing a federal charge after authorities said she is suspected of giving Ford the two weapons used in the attack.
Hopkins, 28, is the mother of Ford’s 4-year-old daughter and 2-year-old son, according to court records obtained by The Eagle on Friday afternoon. She was charged with one count of knowingly transferring a firearm to a convicted felon, U.S. Attorney Barry Grissom said in an e-mailed news release Friday.
Authorities on Friday also confirmed the names of the three people killed in the attack: Renee Benjamin, 30; Josh Higbee, 31; and Brian Sadowsky, 44.
Nearly all of the wounded are recovering; one person remains in critical condition at Via Christi Hospital St. Francis.
Hundreds of people gathered Friday night in Hesston’s Heritage Park for a candlelight vigil, the first step in what is likely to be a long healing process.
SHARE COPY LINK Excel employee Ryan Bartel attended a candlelight vigil for victims of the Excel shooting in Hesston, Kansas, on Friday night. Bartel was in the Excel parking lot when the gunman arrived and started shooting.
A hero emerges
Walton described Ford as being upset about being served with the court papers at about 3:30 p.m. Thursday, but not out of the ordinary.
“He didn’t display anything that was outrageous,” Walton said.
Authorities think Ford left the plant and went home to retrieve the weapons. A neighbor said he saw him walk angrily from his mobile home in south Newton and throw what looked like a machine gun into his car and speed off.
SHARE COPY LINK Harvey County Sheriff T. Walton describes the events of February 25, after a man identified as Cedric Ford shot and killed 3 people and injured more than an dozen others in a shooting at Excel Industries in Hesston, Kan. (Bo Rader/Kansas.com)
Walton said Ford shot people at random and did not target specific people. He said hundreds of people were inside the plant at the time of the shooting.
While other officers remained outside, Walton said, one officer – later identified by the governor’s office as Hesston Police Chief Doug Schroeder – entered the building and confronted Ford in the front office area. They exchanged gunfire and Ford was killed.
The chief entered the plant alone, without backup.
Hesston Police Chief Doug Schroeder entered Excel Industries, fatally shot Cedric Ford after exchanging gunfire and then entered the plant alone – without backup.
Walton called Schroeder a “hero” but did not name him, saying the shooting is under investigation, as is standard procedure for all police shootings.
“Understand there are probably 200 or 300 people (inside) while this is going on,” Walton said. “This man was not going to stop shooting.”
Although the shooting was unprecedented in his 28-year career, Walton said, it wasn’t totally unexpected.
“I have never seen anything like this,” he said. “As far as we don’t think it’s ever going to happen here, isn’t that what every sheriff says that’s stuck up on the podium?”
President Obama phoned Hesston Mayor David Kauffman on Friday morning to discuss the shooting, the White House said in a news release. Obama offered his condolences to the loved ones of those who were lost and his gratitude to police officers and other first responders who acted quickly to save lives.
Speaking later while visiting a manufacturing plant in Jacksonville, Fla., Obama talked with plant employees about the Hesston shooting and the recent shooting in Michigan.
“These acts may not dominate the news today but these are two more communities in America torn apart by grief,” the president said in the release. “I thought it was important for me to say something today because otherwise these sorts of shootings become routine. … We cannot become numb to this.”
Ford’s weapons
In federal court documents, Hopkins is accused of giving Ford the Zastava Serbia AK-47-type semi-automatic rifle and the Glock Model 22 .40-caliber handgun he was carrying when he embarked on Thursday’s shooting spree.
According to the affidavit, Hopkins said during an interview with law enforcement Friday that she:
▪ Was in a relationship with Ford and lived with him in Newton for period of time
▪ Bought both weapons at A Pawn Shop, 519 N. Main in Newton, in March 2014
▪ Moved out of their home in July 2015 but left the guns with Ford
▪ Retrieved the guns from the house with help of Newton Police less than a month later “because she had purchased the weapons and they belonged to her”
▪ Gave the guns back to Ford later that month “because Ford had threatened her.”
The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives special agent who wrote the affidavit also said in the document he spoke Friday with the Newton police officers who helped retrieved the two guns with Hopkins. They said Hopkins, at the time, told them Ford was a convicted felon and that barred him from possessing them, the affidavit said.
The special agent also interviewed an employee of A Pawn Shop who said that after Hopkins bought the weapons, she placed them back in pawn. According to the affidavit, she paid the fee on the Zastava Serbia AK-47 and retrieved it on Feb. 5 – 20 days before Ford’s shooting spree.
A man who answered the door at Hopkins’ address in Newton on Friday confirmed that she lived at the house but said she was not home at the time.
He shook his head and said “I don’t want to talk to you” when an Eagle reporter introduced herself. He then shut the door.
Hopkins was booked into Sedgwick County Jail at 5:38 p.m. Friday, an online roster of inmates shows, and is being held without bond.
Grissom said Hopkins faces up to 10 years in federal prison and a fine up to $250,000 if she’s convicted.
… otherwise these sorts of shootings become routine. … We cannot become numb to this President Obama
Protection from abuse order
Ford was accused of assault by a woman who identified herself in Sedgwick County court records as his live-in girlfriend.
The woman, in a written petition for protection from abuse that was filed Feb. 5, said she and Ford were arguing that day in the 1800 block of South Green Acres Drive – near Harry and Edgemoor – when he “became physical by him pushing me then grabbing me.”
“He placed me in a choke hold from behind – I couldn’t breathe,” the woman wrote in all capital letters in her petition. “He then got me to the ground while choking me.” Eventually, she says, he let her go.
A Wichita police report dated Feb. 5 shows that an officer took the woman’s report by phone shortly after 10:30 that morning. The woman, it says, reported a person “battering her leaving visible injuries.”
Police categorized the report as a domestic violence incident with no children present. Both have children, but not together, records show.
In her petition for protection from abuse, the woman expresses concern over Ford’s demeanor and mental state.
“He is an alcoholic, violent, depressed,” she writes, again all in capital letters. “It’s my belief he is in desperate need of medical & psychological help!”
Ford’s ex-girlfriend described him as an alcoholic, violent and depressed in a protection from abuse she filed. She said she believed he desperately needed medical and psychological help.
Records show Ford’s criminal background spans at least two states.
In Florida, where he’s from, he has felony convictions for burglary, grand theft and carrying a concealed weapon, a background check revealed.
In Harvey County, he has convictions for disorderly conduct in 2008 and driving under the influence of drugs or alcohol in 2010.
A check of Wichita Municipal Court records turned up a 2008 domestic violence conviction for phone harassment and a new domestic violence case for the Feb. 5 assault on the live-in girlfriend who filed for the PFA. He also has a variety of traffic violations, according to court records.
Contributing: Bryan Lowry of The Eagle and Laura Bauer of the Kansas City Star ||||| HESSTON, Kan. -
Harvey County Sheriff T. Walton says the gunman in yesterdays attack at Excel was served a protection from abuse order less than 2 hours before the deadly shooting.
DETAILS ON PFA
Walton spoke to Eyewitness News this Morning Anchor Jenn Bates just moments ago saying Kansas Bureau of Investigation agents are now also working the scene.
Walton said four people, including the shooter, were killed at the Hesston company Thursday afternoon. Fourteen other people were hurt.
The shooter, Cedric Ford, was served a PFA around 3:30 p.m. according to Walton. The first shooting happened just before 5 p.m.
"I can't give you details but it would be someone he was in a relationship with," Walton said.
Walton says the agency will learn more as they do deeper background checks on the suspect to look into his life.
Harvey County is doing interviews currently and will continue to do interviews with victims and bystanders throughout the day.
Walton has been vocal about the Hesston officer who exchanged gunfire with the shooter, before killing him, as being a hero.
"Number one he went in while the shooting was going on," Walton said. "What can you say."
The officer's name is not being released at this time.
There are two investigations going on. There is an investigation into the shooting at Excel and also the investigation into the officer-involved shooting.
When asked about the bravery of the officer, Walton said, "he didn't want to quit. He was going to be down in the command center with us. He was go-go-go, but we couldn't have that. And we made him go home. He's quite a guy." ||||| A local Kansas police chief likely saved dozens of lives when he fatally blasted a mass shooter during a dramatic gunfight inside a busy factory, authorities said.
Gutsy Chief Doug Schroeder was alone with no backup Thursday when he arrived at the Excel plant to confront armed and homicidal employee Cedric Ford, officials said.
A standoff ensued near the building’s front offices, with the Hestton, Kan., chief gunning Ford down as the two men exchanged bullets, authorities said.
WATCH: WIFE REUNITED WITH HUSBAND ON LIVE TV AFTER KANSAS FACTORY SHOOTING
Schroeder, police chief in the city of 3,700 people since 1998, “went in immediately to address the situation,” said Gov. Sam Brownback. “Rather than even waiting on backup, he went right in and did heroic duty and service.”
Without the chief’s aggressive actions, many more were likely to die before Ford was stopped, the governor added.
Police guard the front door of Excel Industries in Hesston, Kan., Thursday. (Fernando Salazar/AP)
“A hero as far as I'm concerned," said Harvey County Sheriff T. Walton about Schroeder, who escaped the gun battle unharmed.
THREE PEOPLE KILLED IN SHOOTING AT KANSAS COMPANY AND 14 INJUREDl GUNMAN SHOT DEAD
Walton said there were at least 200 people working inside when the gunfire started, and Ford “was not going to stop shooting.”
Ford, 38, flew into a murderous range Thursday after police served him with an order of protection, possibly linked to an alleged attack on his live-in girlfriend just three weeks earlier.
“He is an alcoholic, violent, depressed,” the victim wrote in a Feb. 5 application uncovered by The Wichita Eagle. “It’s my belief he is in desperate need of medical & psychological help!”
Cedric Ford (Facebook) Cedric Ford (Broward Sheriff's Office) Cedric Ford, 38, was killed during a shootout with police.
Ford killed three people and wounded another 14 during his Thursday rampage, which began after he resolutely accepted the order of protection while at work in the Excel plant, said Walton.
CEDRIC FORD, THE SUSPECTED GUNMAN WHO KILLED THREE AT KANSAS FACTORY, WAS AVID LOVER OF GUNS
“He was upset but nothing greater than anybody else that gets served,” Walton said at a Friday morning press conference.
An ex-girlfriend, Sarah Hopkins of Newton, Kan., was accused of providing Ford with both weapons last August after he threatened her, according to a federal criminal complaint.
Factory painter Matt Jarrell, who worked "hand-in-hand" with the shooter, said Ford left work earlier than expected and without any notice Thursday.
Police stand guard near Excel Industries in Hesston, Kan., Thursday. (Fernando Salazar/AP)
The first victims were shot 90 minutes later, about six miles from the factory. Ford then drove to his place of employment after shooting a driver and stealing the man’s car, authorities said.
He did not target specific co-workers, instead spraying the building at random after entering the factory. Ford was armed with an assault rifle and a pistol.
President Obama sent his condolences to the shooting victims and their families, and spoke to the mayor about the Thursday spree.
The wounded factory workers were taken to three local hospitals. One victim remained in critical condition Friday morning, and five more were listed in serious. The others are in stable and fair conditions.
Excel Industries was founded in the city about 35 miles of Wichita in 1960. The company manufactures Hustler and Big Dog lawn mowing equipment.
With News Wire Services
Summary: – Just an hour and a half before cops say Cedric Ford went on a shooting rampage in Hesston, Kansas, killing three and injuring more than a dozen before being shot and killed by police, he received something that may have been the fatal trigger. Harvey County Sheriff T. Walton tells the Kansas City Star that his office served Ford, 38, with a protective order—given to Ford at the Excel Industries plant where he worked—that paints a dire picture of Ford's supposed mental state. "He is an alcoholic, violent, depressed," the complainant writes in all caps in the filing. "It's my belief he is in desperate need of medical & psychological help!" Walton wouldn't say who the complainant was, simply noting to KWCH that "I can't give you details, but it would be someone he was in a relationship with." The order was apparently placed in response to an incident that was said to have taken place between the complainant (who IDed herself as Ford's live-in girlfriend) and Ford on Feb. 5. In that complaint, the woman alleges she and Ford engaged in a verbal fight that soon turned violent and included Ford pushing and grabbing her and placing her in a "choke hold from behind" until she "couldn't breathe." She reported the alleged attack to police by phone on the 5th. Ford received the order at 3:30pm, and Walton said at a Friday press conference, per the New York Daily News, "He was upset but nothing greater than anybody else that gets served a [protection from abuse order]." Ford then left the factory; the first shots were reported at 4:57pm.
|
{
"task_name": "multi_news"
}
|
// Copyright 2000-2020 JetBrains s.r.o. Use of this source code is governed by the Apache 2.0 license that can be found in the LICENSE file.
package org.jetbrains.yaml.psi.impl;
import com.intellij.lang.ASTNode;
import com.intellij.openapi.util.NotNullLazyValue;
import com.intellij.openapi.util.Pair;
import com.intellij.openapi.util.TextRange;
import com.intellij.openapi.util.text.StringUtil;
import com.intellij.psi.PsiElementVisitor;
import com.intellij.util.ObjectUtils;
import it.unimi.dsi.fastutil.ints.Int2IntMap;
import it.unimi.dsi.fastutil.ints.Int2IntOpenHashMap;
import org.jetbrains.annotations.NotNull;
import org.jetbrains.yaml.YAMLTokenTypes;
import org.jetbrains.yaml.YAMLUtil;
import org.jetbrains.yaml.lexer.YAMLGrammarCharUtil;
import org.jetbrains.yaml.psi.YAMLQuotedText;
import org.jetbrains.yaml.psi.YamlPsiElementVisitor;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.Collections;
import java.util.List;
public final class YAMLQuotedTextImpl extends YAMLScalarImpl implements YAMLQuotedText {
private final boolean myIsSingleQuoted;
public YAMLQuotedTextImpl(@NotNull ASTNode node) {
super(node);
final ASTNode firstContentNode = getFirstContentNode();
myIsSingleQuoted = firstContentNode != null && firstContentNode.getElementType() == YAMLTokenTypes.SCALAR_STRING;
}
@NotNull
@Override
public List<TextRange> getContentRanges() {
final ASTNode firstContentNode = getFirstContentNode();
if (firstContentNode == null) {
return Collections.emptyList();
}
List<TextRange> result = new ArrayList<>();
TextRange contentRange = TextRange.create(firstContentNode.getStartOffset(), getTextRange().getEndOffset())
.shiftRight(-getTextRange().getStartOffset());
final List<String> lines = StringUtil.split(contentRange.substring(getText()), "\n", false, false);
// First line has opening quote
int cumulativeOffset = contentRange.getStartOffset();
for (int i = 0; i < lines.size(); ++i) {
final String line = lines.get(i);
int lineStart = 0;
int lineEnd = line.length();
if (i == 0) {
lineStart++;
}
else {
while (lineStart < line.length() && YAMLGrammarCharUtil.isSpaceLike(line.charAt(lineStart))) {
lineStart++;
}
}
if (i == lines.size() - 1) {
// Last line has closing quote
lineEnd--;
}
else {
while (lineEnd > lineStart && YAMLGrammarCharUtil.isSpaceLike(line.charAt(lineEnd - 1))) {
lineEnd--;
}
}
result.add(TextRange.create(lineStart, lineEnd).shiftRight(cumulativeOffset));
cumulativeOffset += line.length();
}
return result;
}
@Override
public @NotNull YamlScalarTextEvaluator getTextEvaluator() {
return new YAMLQuotedTextTextEvaluator(this);
}
@SuppressWarnings("AssignmentToForLoopParameter")
@Override
protected List<Pair<TextRange, String>> getDecodeReplacements(@NotNull CharSequence input) {
List<Pair<TextRange, String>> result = new ArrayList<>();
for (int i = 0; i + 1 < input.length(); ++i) {
if (isSingleQuote() && input.charAt(i) == '\'' && input.charAt(i + 1) == '\'') {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 2), "'"));
i++;
}
else if (!isSingleQuote() && input.charAt(i) == '\\') {
if (input.charAt(i + 1) == '\n') {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 2), i > 0 || input.length() > i + 2 ? "" : "\n"));
i++;
continue;
}
final int length = Escaper.findEscapementLength(input, i);
final int charCode = Escaper.toUnicodeChar(input, i, length);
final TextRange range = TextRange.create(i, Math.min(i + length + 1, input.length()));
result.add(Pair.create(range, Character.toString((char)charCode)));
i += range.getLength() - 1;
}
}
return result;
}
@Override
protected List<Pair<TextRange, String>> getEncodeReplacements(@NotNull CharSequence input) throws IllegalArgumentException {
// check for consistency
if (isSingleQuote()) {
for (int i = 0; i < input.length(); ++i) {
if (input.charAt(i) == '\n' && !isSurroundedByNoSpace(input, i)) {
throw new IllegalArgumentException("Newlines with spaces around are not convertible");
}
}
}
final int indent = YAMLUtil.getIndentToThisElement(this);
final String indentString = StringUtil.repeatSymbol(' ', indent);
final List<Pair<TextRange, String>> result = new ArrayList<>();
int currentLength = 0;
for (int i = 0; i < input.length(); ++i) {
final char c = input.charAt(i);
if (c == '\n') {
if (!isSingleQuote() && i + 1 < input.length() && YAMLGrammarCharUtil.isSpaceLike(input.charAt(i + 1))) {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "\\n\\\n" + indentString + "\\"));
}
else if (!isSingleQuote() && i + 1 < input.length() && input.charAt(i + 1) == '\n' && i > 0) {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "\\\n" + indentString + "\\n"));
}
else {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "\n" + indentString));
}
currentLength = 0;
continue;
}
if (currentLength > MAX_SCALAR_LENGTH_PREDEFINED
&& (!isSingleQuote() || (c == ' ' && isSurroundedByNoSpace(input, i)))) {
final String replacement;
if (isSingleQuote()) {
replacement = "\n" + indentString;
}
else if (YAMLGrammarCharUtil.isSpaceLike(c)) {
replacement = "\\\n" + indentString + "\\";
}
else {
replacement = "\\\n" + indentString;
}
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, isSingleQuote() ? 1 : 0), replacement));
currentLength = 0;
}
currentLength++;
if (isSingleQuote() && c == '\'') {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "''"));
continue;
}
if (!isSingleQuote()) {
if (c == '"') {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "\\\""));
}
else if (c == '\\') {
result.add(Pair.create(TextRange.from(i, 1), "\\\\"));
}
}
}
return result;
}
@Override
public boolean isMultiline() {
return textContains('\n');
}
@Override
public boolean isSingleQuote() {
return myIsSingleQuoted;
}
@Override
public String toString() {
return "YAML quoted text";
}
private static final class Escaper {
private static final int[][] ONE_LETTER_CONVERSIONS = new int[][] {
{'0', 0},
{'a', 7},
{'b', 8},
{'t', 9},
{9, 9},
{'n', 10},
{'v', 11},
{'f', 12},
{'r', 13},
{'e', 27},
{' ', 32},
{'"', 34},
{'/', 47},
{'\\', 92},
{'N', 133},
{'_', 160},
{'L', 8232},
{'P', 8233},
};
private static final NotNullLazyValue<Int2IntMap> ESC_TO_CODE = NotNullLazyValue.createValue(() -> {
Int2IntMap map = new Int2IntOpenHashMap(ONE_LETTER_CONVERSIONS.length);
for (int[] conversion : ONE_LETTER_CONVERSIONS) {
map.put(conversion[0], conversion[1]);
}
return map;
});
static int findEscapementLength(@NotNull CharSequence text, int pos) {
if (pos + 1 >= text.length() || text.charAt(pos) != '\\') {
throw new IllegalArgumentException("This is not an escapement start");
}
final char c = text.charAt(pos + 1);
if (c == 'x') {
return 3;
}
else if (c == 'u') {
return 5;
}
else if (c == 'U') {
return 9;
}
else {
return 1;
}
}
static int toUnicodeChar(@NotNull CharSequence text, int pos, int length) {
if (length > 1) {
CharSequence s = text.subSequence(pos + 2, Math.min(text.length(), pos + length + 1));
try {
return Integer.parseInt(s.toString(), 16);
}
catch (NumberFormatException e) {
return '?';
}
}
else {
final Integer result = ESC_TO_CODE.getValue().get(text.charAt(pos + 1));
return ObjectUtils.notNull(result, (int)text.charAt(pos + 1));
}
}
}
@Override
public void accept(@NotNull PsiElementVisitor visitor) {
if (visitor instanceof YamlPsiElementVisitor) {
((YamlPsiElementVisitor)visitor).visitQuotedText(this);
}
else {
super.accept(visitor);
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
// Copyright 2017 The Bazel Authors. All rights reserved.
//
// Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License");
// you may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
// You may obtain a copy of the License at
//
// http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
//
// Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
// distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
// WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
// See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
// limitations under the License.
package com.google.devtools.build.skyframe;
import com.google.common.base.Throwables;
import com.google.common.collect.ImmutableMap;
import com.google.common.collect.ImmutableSet;
import com.google.common.collect.Iterables;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.clock.BlazeClock;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.events.Event;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.events.ExtendedEventHandler;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.profiler.Profiler;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.profiler.ProfilerTask;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.util.GroupedList.GroupedListHelper;
import com.google.devtools.build.lib.util.Preconditions;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.EvaluationProgressReceiver.EvaluationState;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.MemoizingEvaluator.EmittedEventState;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.NodeEntry.DependencyState;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.NodeEntry.DirtyState;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.ParallelEvaluatorContext.EnqueueParentBehavior;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.QueryableGraph.Reason;
import com.google.devtools.build.skyframe.SkyFunctionException.ReifiedSkyFunctionException;
import java.util.Collection;
import java.util.HashSet;
import java.util.Iterator;
import java.util.Map;
import java.util.Map.Entry;
import java.util.Set;
import java.util.concurrent.ForkJoinPool;
import java.util.logging.Logger;
import javax.annotation.Nullable;
/**
* Defines the evaluation action used in the multi-threaded Skyframe evaluation, and constructs the
* {@link ParallelEvaluatorContext} that the actions rely on.
*
* <p>This does not implement other parts of Skyframe evaluation setup and post-processing, such as
* translating a set of requested top-level nodes into actions, or constructing an evaluation
* result. Derived classes should do this.
*/
public abstract class AbstractParallelEvaluator {
private static final Logger logger = Logger.getLogger(ParallelEvaluator.class.getName());
final ProcessableGraph graph;
final ParallelEvaluatorContext evaluatorContext;
AbstractParallelEvaluator(
ProcessableGraph graph,
Version graphVersion,
ImmutableMap<SkyFunctionName, ? extends SkyFunction> skyFunctions,
final ExtendedEventHandler reporter,
EmittedEventState emittedEventState,
EventFilter storedEventFilter,
ErrorInfoManager errorInfoManager,
boolean keepGoing,
int threadCount,
DirtyTrackingProgressReceiver progressReceiver) {
this.graph = graph;
evaluatorContext =
new ParallelEvaluatorContext(
graph,
graphVersion,
skyFunctions,
reporter,
emittedEventState,
keepGoing,
progressReceiver,
storedEventFilter,
errorInfoManager,
Evaluate::new,
threadCount);
}
AbstractParallelEvaluator(
ProcessableGraph graph,
Version graphVersion,
ImmutableMap<SkyFunctionName, ? extends SkyFunction> skyFunctions,
final ExtendedEventHandler reporter,
EmittedEventState emittedEventState,
EventFilter storedEventFilter,
ErrorInfoManager errorInfoManager,
boolean keepGoing,
DirtyTrackingProgressReceiver progressReceiver,
ForkJoinPool forkJoinPool) {
this.graph = graph;
evaluatorContext =
new ParallelEvaluatorContext(
graph,
graphVersion,
skyFunctions,
reporter,
emittedEventState,
keepGoing,
progressReceiver,
storedEventFilter,
errorInfoManager,
Evaluate::new,
Preconditions.checkNotNull(forkJoinPool));
}
/**
* If the entry is dirty and not already rebuilding, puts it in a state so that it can rebuild.
*/
static void maybeMarkRebuilding(NodeEntry entry) {
if (entry.isDirty() && entry.getDirtyState() != DirtyState.REBUILDING) {
entry.markRebuilding();
}
}
enum DirtyOutcome {
ALREADY_PROCESSED,
NEEDS_EVALUATION
}
/** An action that evaluates a value. */
private class Evaluate implements Runnable {
/** The name of the value to be evaluated. */
private final SkyKey skyKey;
private Evaluate(SkyKey skyKey) {
this.skyKey = skyKey;
}
private void enqueueChild(
SkyKey skyKey,
NodeEntry entry,
SkyKey child,
NodeEntry childEntry,
boolean depAlreadyExists)
throws InterruptedException {
Preconditions.checkState(!entry.isDone(), "%s %s", skyKey, entry);
DependencyState dependencyState =
depAlreadyExists
? childEntry.checkIfDoneForDirtyReverseDep(skyKey)
: childEntry.addReverseDepAndCheckIfDone(skyKey);
switch (dependencyState) {
case DONE:
if (entry.signalDep(childEntry.getVersion())) {
// This can only happen if there are no more children to be added.
evaluatorContext.getVisitor().enqueueEvaluation(skyKey);
}
break;
case ALREADY_EVALUATING:
break;
case NEEDS_SCHEDULING:
evaluatorContext.getVisitor().enqueueEvaluation(child);
break;
}
}
/**
* Returns true if this depGroup consists of the error transience value and the error transience
* value is newer than the entry, meaning that the entry must be re-evaluated.
*/
private boolean invalidatedByErrorTransience(Collection<SkyKey> depGroup, NodeEntry entry)
throws InterruptedException {
return depGroup.size() == 1
&& depGroup.contains(ErrorTransienceValue.KEY)
&& !graph.get(
null, Reason.OTHER, ErrorTransienceValue.KEY).getVersion().atMost(entry.getVersion());
}
private DirtyOutcome maybeHandleDirtyNode(NodeEntry state) throws InterruptedException {
if (!state.isDirty()) {
return DirtyOutcome.NEEDS_EVALUATION;
}
while (state.getDirtyState().equals(DirtyState.CHECK_DEPENDENCIES)) {
// Evaluating a dirty node for the first time, and checking its children to see if any
// of them have changed. Note that there must be dirty children for this to happen.
// Check the children group by group -- we don't want to evaluate a value that is no
// longer needed because an earlier dependency changed. For example, //foo:foo depends
// on target //bar:bar and is built. Then foo/BUILD is modified to remove the dependence
// on bar, and bar/BUILD is deleted. Reloading //bar:bar would incorrectly throw an
// exception. To avoid this, we must reload foo/BUILD first, at which point we will
// discover that it has changed, and re-evaluate target //foo:foo from scratch.
// On the other hand, when an action requests all of its inputs, we can safely check all
// of them in parallel on a subsequent build. So we allow checking an entire group in
// parallel here, if the node builder requested a group last build.
// Note: every dep returned here must either have this node re-registered for it (using
// checkIfDoneForDirtyReverseDep) and be registered as a direct dep of this node, or have
// its reverse dep on this node removed. Failing to do either one of these would result in
// a graph inconsistency, where the child had a reverse dep on this node, but this node
// had no kind of dependency on the child.
Collection<SkyKey> directDepsToCheck = state.getNextDirtyDirectDeps();
if (invalidatedByErrorTransience(directDepsToCheck, state)) {
// If this dep is the ErrorTransienceValue and the ErrorTransienceValue has been
// updated then we need to force a rebuild. We would like to just signal the entry as
// usual, but we can't, because then the ErrorTransienceValue would remain as a dep,
// which would be incorrect if, for instance, the value re-evaluated to a non-error.
state.forceRebuild();
graph.get(skyKey, Reason.RDEP_REMOVAL, ErrorTransienceValue.KEY).removeReverseDep(skyKey);
return DirtyOutcome.NEEDS_EVALUATION;
}
if (!evaluatorContext.keepGoing()) {
// This check ensures that we maintain the invariant that if a node with an error is
// reached during a no-keep-going build, none of its currently building parents
// finishes building. If the child isn't done building yet, it will detect on its own
// that it has an error (see the VERIFIED_CLEAN case below). On the other hand, if it
// is done, then it is the parent's responsibility to notice that, which we do here.
// We check the deps for errors so that we don't continue building this node if it has
// a child error.
Map<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> entriesToCheck =
graph.getBatch(skyKey, Reason.OTHER, directDepsToCheck);
for (Entry<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> entry : entriesToCheck.entrySet()) {
if (entry.getValue().isDone() && entry.getValue().getErrorInfo() != null) {
// If any child has an error, we arbitrarily add a dep on the first one (needed
// for error bubbling) and throw an exception coming from it.
SkyKey errorKey = entry.getKey();
NodeEntry errorEntry = entry.getValue();
state.addTemporaryDirectDeps(GroupedListHelper.create(errorKey));
errorEntry.checkIfDoneForDirtyReverseDep(skyKey);
// Perform the necessary bookkeeping for any deps that are not being used.
for (Entry<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> depEntry : entriesToCheck.entrySet()) {
if (!depEntry.getKey().equals(errorKey)) {
depEntry.getValue().removeReverseDep(skyKey);
}
}
if (!evaluatorContext.getVisitor().preventNewEvaluations()) {
// An error was already thrown in the evaluator. Don't do anything here.
return DirtyOutcome.ALREADY_PROCESSED;
}
throw SchedulerException.ofError(
errorEntry.getErrorInfo(), entry.getKey(), ImmutableSet.of(skyKey));
}
}
}
// It is safe to add these deps back to the node -- even if one of them has changed, the
// contract of pruning is that the node will request these deps again when it rebuilds.
// We must add these deps before enqueuing them, so that the node knows that it depends
// on them. If one of these deps is the error transience node, the check we did above
// in #invalidatedByErrorTransience means that the error transience node is not newer
// than this node, so we are going to mark it clean (since the error transience node is
// always the last dep).
state.addTemporaryDirectDepsGroupToDirtyEntry(directDepsToCheck);
DepsReport depsReport = graph.analyzeDepsDoneness(skyKey, directDepsToCheck);
Collection<SkyKey> unknownStatusDeps =
depsReport.hasInformation() ? depsReport : directDepsToCheck;
boolean needsScheduling = false;
for (int i = 0; i < directDepsToCheck.size() - unknownStatusDeps.size(); i++) {
// Since all of these nodes were done at an earlier version than this one, we may safely
// signal with the minimal version, since they cannot trigger a re-evaluation.
needsScheduling = state.signalDep(MinimalVersion.INSTANCE);
}
if (needsScheduling) {
Preconditions.checkState(
unknownStatusDeps.isEmpty(),
"Ready without all deps checked? %s %s %s",
skyKey,
state,
unknownStatusDeps);
continue;
}
Map<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> oldChildren =
graph.getBatch(skyKey, Reason.ENQUEUING_CHILD, unknownStatusDeps);
Preconditions.checkState(
oldChildren.size() == unknownStatusDeps.size(),
"Not all old children were present: %s %s %s %s %s",
skyKey,
state,
unknownStatusDeps,
oldChildren,
directDepsToCheck);
for (Map.Entry<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> e : oldChildren.entrySet()) {
SkyKey directDep = e.getKey();
NodeEntry directDepEntry = e.getValue();
// TODO(bazel-team): If this signals the current node, consider falling through to the
// VERIFIED_CLEAN case below directly, without scheduling a new Evaluate().
enqueueChild(skyKey, state, directDep, directDepEntry, /*depAlreadyExists=*/ true);
}
return DirtyOutcome.ALREADY_PROCESSED;
}
switch (state.getDirtyState()) {
case VERIFIED_CLEAN:
// No child has a changed value. This node can be marked done and its parents signaled
// without any re-evaluation.
Set<SkyKey> reverseDeps = state.markClean();
// Tell the receiver that the value was not actually changed this run.
evaluatorContext
.getProgressReceiver()
.evaluated(skyKey, new SkyValueSupplier(state), EvaluationState.CLEAN);
if (!evaluatorContext.keepGoing() && state.getErrorInfo() != null) {
if (!evaluatorContext.getVisitor().preventNewEvaluations()) {
return DirtyOutcome.ALREADY_PROCESSED;
}
throw SchedulerException.ofError(state.getErrorInfo(), skyKey, reverseDeps);
}
evaluatorContext.signalValuesAndEnqueueIfReady(
skyKey, reverseDeps, state.getVersion(), EnqueueParentBehavior.ENQUEUE);
return DirtyOutcome.ALREADY_PROCESSED;
case NEEDS_REBUILDING:
maybeMarkRebuilding(state);
// Fall through to REBUILDING case.
case REBUILDING:
return DirtyOutcome.NEEDS_EVALUATION;
default:
throw new IllegalStateException("key: " + skyKey + ", entry: " + state);
}
}
@Override
public void run() {
try {
NodeEntry state =
Preconditions.checkNotNull(graph.get(null, Reason.EVALUATION, skyKey), skyKey);
Preconditions.checkState(state.isReady(), "%s %s", skyKey, state);
if (maybeHandleDirtyNode(state) == DirtyOutcome.ALREADY_PROCESSED) {
return;
}
Set<SkyKey> oldDeps = state.getAllRemainingDirtyDirectDeps();
SkyFunctionEnvironment env =
new SkyFunctionEnvironment(
skyKey, state.getTemporaryDirectDeps(), oldDeps, evaluatorContext);
SkyFunctionName functionName = skyKey.functionName();
SkyFunction factory =
Preconditions.checkNotNull(
evaluatorContext.getSkyFunctions().get(functionName),
"Unable to find SkyFunction '%s' for node with key %s, %s",
functionName,
skyKey,
state);
SkyValue value = null;
long startTime = BlazeClock.instance().nanoTime();
try {
try {
evaluatorContext.getProgressReceiver().computing(skyKey);
value = factory.compute(skyKey, env);
} finally {
long elapsedTimeNanos = BlazeClock.instance().nanoTime() - startTime;
if (elapsedTimeNanos > 0) {
evaluatorContext.getProgressReceiver().computed(skyKey, elapsedTimeNanos);
Profiler.instance()
.logSimpleTaskDuration(
startTime, elapsedTimeNanos, ProfilerTask.SKYFUNCTION, skyKey);
}
}
} catch (final SkyFunctionException builderException) {
ReifiedSkyFunctionException reifiedBuilderException =
new ReifiedSkyFunctionException(builderException, skyKey);
// In keep-going mode, we do not let SkyFunctions throw errors with missing deps -- we
// will restart them when their deps are done, so we can have a definitive error and
// definitive graph structure, thus avoiding non-determinism. It's completely reasonable
// for SkyFunctions to throw eagerly because they do not know if they are in keep-going
// mode.
// Propagated transitive errors are treated the same as missing deps.
if ((!evaluatorContext.keepGoing() || !env.valuesMissing())
&& reifiedBuilderException.getRootCauseSkyKey().equals(skyKey)) {
boolean shouldFailFast =
!evaluatorContext.keepGoing() || builderException.isCatastrophic();
if (shouldFailFast) {
// After we commit this error to the graph but before the doMutatingEvaluation call
// completes with the error there is a race-like opportunity for the error to be used,
// either by an in-flight computation or by a future computation.
if (!evaluatorContext.getVisitor().preventNewEvaluations()) {
// This is not the first error encountered, so we ignore it so that we can terminate
// with the first error.
return;
} else {
logger.warning(
"Aborting evaluation due to "
+ builderException
+ " while evaluating "
+ skyKey);
}
}
Map<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> newlyRequestedDeps =
evaluatorContext.getBatchValues(
skyKey, Reason.RDEP_ADDITION, env.getNewlyRequestedDeps());
boolean isTransitivelyTransient = reifiedBuilderException.isTransient();
for (NodeEntry depEntry :
Iterables.concat(env.getDirectDepsValues(), newlyRequestedDeps.values())) {
if (!isDoneForBuild(depEntry)) {
continue;
}
ErrorInfo depError = depEntry.getErrorInfo();
if (depError != null) {
isTransitivelyTransient |= depError.isTransitivelyTransient();
}
}
ErrorInfo errorInfo = evaluatorContext.getErrorInfoManager().fromException(
skyKey,
reifiedBuilderException,
isTransitivelyTransient);
registerNewlyDiscoveredDepsForDoneEntry(
skyKey, state, newlyRequestedDeps, oldDeps, env);
env.setError(state, errorInfo);
Set<SkyKey> rdepsToBubbleUpTo =
env.commit(
state,
shouldFailFast ? EnqueueParentBehavior.SIGNAL : EnqueueParentBehavior.ENQUEUE);
if (!shouldFailFast) {
return;
}
throw SchedulerException.ofError(errorInfo, skyKey, rdepsToBubbleUpTo);
}
} catch (RuntimeException re) {
// Programmer error (most likely NPE or a failed precondition in a SkyFunction). Output
// some context together with the exception.
String msg = prepareCrashMessage(skyKey, state.getInProgressReverseDeps());
RuntimeException ex = new RuntimeException(msg, re);
evaluatorContext.getVisitor().noteCrash(ex);
throw ex;
} finally {
env.doneBuilding();
}
GroupedListHelper<SkyKey> newDirectDeps = env.getNewlyRequestedDeps();
if (value != null) {
Preconditions.checkState(
!env.valuesMissing(),
"Evaluation of %s returned non-null value but requested dependencies that weren't "
+ "computed yet (one of %s), NodeEntry: %s",
skyKey,
newDirectDeps,
state);
env.setValue(value);
registerNewlyDiscoveredDepsForDoneEntry(
skyKey,
state,
graph.getBatch(skyKey, Reason.RDEP_ADDITION, env.getNewlyRequestedDeps()),
oldDeps,
env);
env.commit(state, EnqueueParentBehavior.ENQUEUE);
return;
}
if (env.getDepErrorKey() != null) {
Preconditions.checkState(
!evaluatorContext.keepGoing(), "%s %s %s", skyKey, state, env.getDepErrorKey());
// We encountered a child error in noKeepGoing mode, so we want to fail fast. But we first
// need to add the edge between the current node and the child error it requested so that
// error bubbling can occur. Note that this edge will subsequently be removed during graph
// cleaning (since the current node will never be committed to the graph).
SkyKey childErrorKey = env.getDepErrorKey();
NodeEntry childErrorEntry =
Preconditions.checkNotNull(
graph.get(skyKey, Reason.OTHER, childErrorKey),
"skyKey: %s, state: %s childErrorKey: %s",
skyKey,
state,
childErrorKey);
if (newDirectDeps.contains(childErrorKey)) {
// Add this dep if it was just requested. In certain rare race conditions (see
// MemoizingEvaluatorTest.cachedErrorCausesRestart) this dep may have already been
// requested.
state.addTemporaryDirectDeps(GroupedListHelper.create(childErrorKey));
DependencyState childErrorState;
if (oldDeps.contains(childErrorKey)) {
childErrorState = childErrorEntry.checkIfDoneForDirtyReverseDep(skyKey);
} else {
childErrorState = childErrorEntry.addReverseDepAndCheckIfDone(skyKey);
}
Preconditions.checkState(
childErrorState == DependencyState.DONE,
"skyKey: %s, state: %s childErrorKey: %s",
skyKey,
state,
childErrorKey,
childErrorEntry);
}
ErrorInfo childErrorInfo = Preconditions.checkNotNull(childErrorEntry.getErrorInfo());
evaluatorContext.getVisitor().preventNewEvaluations();
throw SchedulerException.ofError(childErrorInfo, childErrorKey, ImmutableSet.of(skyKey));
}
// TODO(bazel-team): This code is not safe to interrupt, because we would lose the state in
// newDirectDeps.
// TODO(bazel-team): An ill-behaved SkyFunction can throw us into an infinite loop where we
// add more dependencies on every run. [skyframe-core]
// Add all new keys to the set of known deps.
Set<SkyKey> uniqueNewDeps = state.addTemporaryDirectDeps(newDirectDeps);
// If there were no newly requested dependencies, at least one of them was in error or there
// is a bug in the SkyFunction implementation. The environment has collected its errors, so
// we just order it to be built.
if (uniqueNewDeps.isEmpty()) {
// TODO(bazel-team): This means a bug in the SkyFunction. What to do?
Preconditions.checkState(
!env.getChildErrorInfos().isEmpty(),
"Evaluation of SkyKey failed and no dependencies were requested: %s %s",
skyKey,
state);
Preconditions.checkState(
evaluatorContext.keepGoing(),
"nokeep_going evaluation should have failed on first child error: %s %s %s",
skyKey,
state,
env.getChildErrorInfos());
// If the child error was catastrophic, committing this parent to the graph is not
// necessary, but since we don't do error bubbling in catastrophes, it doesn't violate any
// invariants either.
env.commit(state, EnqueueParentBehavior.ENQUEUE);
return;
}
for (Entry<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> e :
graph.createIfAbsentBatch(skyKey, Reason.ENQUEUING_CHILD, uniqueNewDeps).entrySet()) {
SkyKey newDirectDep = e.getKey();
NodeEntry newDirectDepEntry = e.getValue();
enqueueChild(
skyKey,
state,
newDirectDep,
newDirectDepEntry,
/*depAlreadyExists=*/ oldDeps.contains(newDirectDep));
}
// It is critical that there is no code below this point in the try block.
} catch (InterruptedException ie) {
// InterruptedException cannot be thrown by Runnable.run, so we must wrap it.
// Interrupts can be caught by both the Evaluator and the AbstractQueueVisitor.
// The former will unwrap the IE and propagate it as is; the latter will throw a new IE.
throw SchedulerException.ofInterruption(ie, skyKey);
}
}
private String prepareCrashMessage(SkyKey skyKey, Iterable<SkyKey> reverseDeps) {
StringBuilder reverseDepDump = new StringBuilder();
for (SkyKey key : reverseDeps) {
if (reverseDepDump.length() > MAX_REVERSEDEP_DUMP_LENGTH) {
reverseDepDump.append(", ...");
break;
}
if (reverseDepDump.length() > 0) {
reverseDepDump.append(", ");
}
reverseDepDump.append("'");
reverseDepDump.append(key.toString());
reverseDepDump.append("'");
}
return String.format(
"Unrecoverable error while evaluating node '%s' (requested by nodes %s)",
skyKey, reverseDepDump);
}
private static final int MAX_REVERSEDEP_DUMP_LENGTH = 1000;
}
void propagateEvaluatorContextCrashIfAny() {
if (!evaluatorContext.getVisitor().getCrashes().isEmpty()) {
evaluatorContext
.getReporter()
.handle(Event.error("Crashes detected: " + evaluatorContext.getVisitor().getCrashes()));
throw Preconditions.checkNotNull(
Iterables.getFirst(evaluatorContext.getVisitor().getCrashes(), null));
}
}
void propagateInterruption(SchedulerException e) throws InterruptedException {
Throwables.propagateIfPossible(e.getCause(), InterruptedException.class);
if (Thread.interrupted()) {
// As per the contract of AbstractQueueVisitor#work, if an unchecked exception is thrown and
// the build is interrupted, the thrown exception is what will be rethrown. Since the user
// presumably wanted to interrupt the build, we ignore the thrown SchedulerException (which
// doesn't indicate a programming bug) and throw an InterruptedException.
throw new InterruptedException();
}
}
/**
* Add any additional deps that were registered during the run of a builder that finished by
* creating a node or throwing an error. Builders may throw errors even if all their deps were not
* provided -- we trust that a SkyFunction might know it should throw an error even if not all of
* its requested deps are done. However, that means we're assuming the SkyFunction would throw
* that same error if all of its requested deps were done. Unfortunately, there is no way to
* enforce that condition.
*
* @throws InterruptedException
*/
private static void registerNewlyDiscoveredDepsForDoneEntry(
SkyKey skyKey,
NodeEntry entry,
Map<SkyKey, ? extends NodeEntry> newlyRequestedDepMap,
Set<SkyKey> oldDeps,
SkyFunctionEnvironment env)
throws InterruptedException {
Iterator<SkyKey> it = env.getNewlyRequestedDeps().iterator();
if (!it.hasNext()) {
return;
}
Set<SkyKey> unfinishedDeps = new HashSet<>();
while (it.hasNext()) {
SkyKey dep = it.next();
if (!isDoneForBuild(newlyRequestedDepMap.get(dep))) {
unfinishedDeps.add(dep);
}
}
env.getNewlyRequestedDeps().remove(unfinishedDeps);
Set<SkyKey> uniqueNewDeps = entry.addTemporaryDirectDeps(env.getNewlyRequestedDeps());
for (SkyKey newDep : uniqueNewDeps) {
// Note that this depEntry can't be null. If env.newlyRequestedDeps contained a key with a
// null entry, then it would have been added to unfinishedDeps and then removed from
// env.newlyRequestedDeps just above this loop.
NodeEntry depEntry = Preconditions.checkNotNull(newlyRequestedDepMap.get(newDep), newDep);
DependencyState triState =
oldDeps.contains(newDep)
? depEntry.checkIfDoneForDirtyReverseDep(skyKey)
: depEntry.addReverseDepAndCheckIfDone(skyKey);
Preconditions.checkState(DependencyState.DONE == triState,
"new dep %s was not already done for %s. ValueEntry: %s. DepValueEntry: %s",
newDep, skyKey, entry, depEntry);
entry.signalDep();
}
Preconditions.checkState(
entry.isReady(), "%s %s %s", skyKey, entry, env.getNewlyRequestedDeps());
}
/**
* Return true if the entry does not need to be re-evaluated this build. The entry will need to be
* re-evaluated if it is not done, but also if it was not completely evaluated last build and this
* build is keepGoing.
*/
static boolean isDoneForBuild(@Nullable NodeEntry entry) {
return entry != null && entry.isDone();
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
J. Samuel Cook
Samuel J. Cook, III (born November 12, 1983) is an African-American playwright, journalist, educator and writer currently serving as director of the 7th Ward Neighborhood Center in New Orleans, a non-profit organization designed to improve quality of life conditions for residents of New Orleans' historic 7th Ward. His one-act play "Barren Fields" won an NAACP ACT-SO medal in 2002. Also an educator, he formerly worked with at-risk youth at Walter L. Cohen Senior High in New Orleans. He was born in Toledo, Ohio.
Passage 2:
Georgia on My Mind
"Georgia on My Mind" is a 1930 song written by Hoagy Carmichael and Stuart Gorrell and first recorded that year. It has often been associated with Ray Charles, a native of Georgia who recorded it for his 1960 album "The Genius Hits the Road". In 1979 Georgia designated this as the official state song.
Passage 3:
Constance (magazine)
Constance is an annual arts and literature journal based in New Orleans, Louisiana, founded in 2006 by graphic designer Erik Kiesewetter and writer/editor Patrick Strange, who is also the ex-managing editor of Los Angeles-based "Filter". Exploring the "fragmentary life that is New Orleans," "Constance" publishes many forms of visual art and creative writing with a focus on New Orleans and the ongoing crisis following Hurricane Katrina.
Passage 4:
Andrew Nelson (author)
Andrew Nelson is a writer and professor living in New Orleans. He worked as a senior producer of Britannica.com, a creative director for Cyberflix, a visiting professor at Loyola University New Orleans, and a Public Relations and Social Media Account professional at Peter A. Mayer Advertising in New Orleans. Two computer games he developed for CyberFlix – "" (1996) and "" (1995) – were bestselling PC game and Macintosh Games of the Year. In 2007 he was awarded a Lowell Thomas Award for his work with the Society. He is a writer-at-large for Salon, "National Geographic Traveler", "ReadyMade", "New York Times", "Via" magazine, "Weekend Sherpa" and "San Francisco Magazine" (which featured Nelson’s monthly history column).
Passage 5:
New Orleans Records
New Orleans Records was a United States–based record label from circa 1949 – 1978 that specialized in New Orleans jazz. It was owned and operated by New Orleans, Louisiana record store owner/music writer Orin Blackstone.
Passage 6:
New Orleans (Hoagy Carmichael song)
"New Orleans" is a 1932 popular song written by Hoagy Carmichael. The song is now considered a jazz standard, along with several other Carmichael compositions such as "Stardust", "Georgia on My Mind" and "Lazy River".
Passage 7:
Flow Tribe
Flow Tribe is an American funk rock band based in New Orleans, Louisiana. The group contains six members who are all natives of New Orleans. The band was founded in 2004, and was featured on Episode 11 of MTV's "", which aired September 8, 2010. Sahar Dika, a member of "The Real World: New Orleans" cast, sang three songs with the band at a concert at Tipitina's. Flow Tribe continues to be a festival favorite playing The Voodoo Music Experience several times including the massive Main Stage. Flow Tribe has played the New Orleans Jazz and Heritage Festival 5 years running including the Acura Main Stage in 2014 and 2015. The band also plays several festivals all over the US and tours nationally. Flow Tribe, known for their high energy live show brings their traveling street parade with them to every concert. Relix Magazine called Flow Tribe “bizarrely irresistible.”
Passage 8:
Big Easy Fantasy
Big Easy Fantasy is an album by Willy DeVille and the Mink DeVille Band. It was released in Europe on the French New Rose label in 1995. The album is a mixture of studio tracks and concert recordings made in New York and Paris. The "big easy" of the album's title refers to New Orleans. As the album cover says, the inspiration for the album was "Jump City, the Crescent City, the city that care forgot, New Orleans...The Big Easy!" All songs on the album are standards by New Orleans musicians or are original compositions by Willy DeVille about some aspect of New Orleans.
Passage 9:
Doc Souchon
Edmond "Doc" Souchon (October 25, 1897, New Orleans – August 24, 1968, New Orleans) was an American jazz guitarist and writer on music. He was a pivotal figure in the historical preservation of New Orleans jazz in the middle of the 20th century.
Passage 10:
Matthew Randazzo V
Matthew Randazzo V (born March 13, 1984) is an American true crime writer and historian originally from New Orleans, Louisiana, who currently lives on the Olympic Peninsula of Washington. Randazzo is of Sicilian-American, Isleño, and Cajun descent. He is the author of 2008's "Ring of Hell: The Story of Chris Benoit & The Fall of the Pro Wrestling Industry", co-author of 2009's Phoenix Books release "Breakshot: A Life in the 21st Century American Mafia" with Kenny "Kenji" Gallo, and author of 2010's "Mr. New Orleans: The Life of a Big Easy Underworld Legend" with gangster Frenchy Brouillette, which claims to be the first book to ever break the code of secrecy in the New Orleans Mafia family. "Breakshot" was republished in 2010 by Simon & Schuster imprint PocketBooks.
Question: Who is the writer of such songs as "New Orleans" and "Georgia on my Mind"?
Answer: Hoagy Carmichael
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
/*
* Copyright (c) Contributors, http://opensimulator.org/
* See CONTRIBUTORS.TXT for a full list of copyright holders.
*
* Redistribution and use in source and binary forms, with or without
* modification, are permitted provided that the following conditions are met:
* * Redistributions of source code must retain the above copyright
* notice, this list of conditions and the following disclaimer.
* * Redistributions in binary form must reproduce the above copyright
* notice, this list of conditions and the following disclaimer in the
* documentation and/or other materials provided with the distribution.
* * Neither the name of the OpenSimulator Project nor the
* names of its contributors may be used to endorse or promote products
* derived from this software without specific prior written permission.
*
* THIS SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED BY THE DEVELOPERS ``AS IS'' AND ANY
* EXPRESS OR IMPLIED WARRANTIES, INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, THE IMPLIED
* WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY AND FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE ARE
* DISCLAIMED. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE CONTRIBUTORS BE LIABLE FOR ANY
* DIRECT, INDIRECT, INCIDENTAL, SPECIAL, EXEMPLARY, OR CONSEQUENTIAL DAMAGES
* (INCLUDING, BUT NOT LIMITED TO, PROCUREMENT OF SUBSTITUTE GOODS OR SERVICES;
* LOSS OF USE, DATA, OR PROFITS; OR BUSINESS INTERRUPTION) HOWEVER CAUSED AND
* ON ANY THEORY OF LIABILITY, WHETHER IN CONTRACT, STRICT LIABILITY, OR TORT
* (INCLUDING NEGLIGENCE OR OTHERWISE) ARISING IN ANY WAY OUT OF THE USE OF THIS
* SOFTWARE, EVEN IF ADVISED OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGE.
*/
using System;
using System.Collections;
using OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Interfaces;
using key = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.LSLString;
using rotation = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.Quaternion;
using vector = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.Vector3;
using LSL_List = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.list;
using LSL_String = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.LSLString;
using LSL_Integer = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.LSLInteger;
using LSL_Float = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.LSLFloat;
using LSL_Key = OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.LSL_Types.LSLString;
namespace OpenSim.Region.ScriptEngine.Shared.Api.Interfaces
{
/// <summary>
/// To permit region owners to enable the extended scripting functionality
/// of OSSL, without allowing malicious scripts to access potentially
/// troublesome functions, each OSSL function is assigned a threat level,
/// and access to the functions is granted or denied based on a default
/// threshold set in OpenSim.ini (which can be overridden for individual
/// functions on a case-by-case basis)
/// </summary>
public enum ThreatLevel
{
// Not documented, presumably means permanently disabled ?
NoAccess = -1,
/// <summary>
/// Function is no threat at all. It doesn't constitute a threat to
/// either users or the system and has no known side effects.
/// </summary>
None = 0,
/// <summary>
/// Abuse of this command can cause a nuisance to the region operator,
/// such as log message spew.
/// </summary>
Nuisance = 1,
/// <summary>
/// Extreme levels of abuse of this function can cause impaired
/// functioning of the region, or very gullible users can be tricked
/// into experiencing harmless effects.
/// </summary>
VeryLow = 2,
/// <summary>
/// Intentional abuse can cause crashes or malfunction under certain
/// circumstances, which can be easily rectified; or certain users can
/// be tricked into certain situations in an avoidable manner.
/// </summary>
Low = 3,
/// <summary>
/// Intentional abuse can cause denial of service and crashes with
/// potential of data or state loss; or trusting users can be tricked
/// into embarrassing or uncomfortable situations.
/// </summary>
Moderate = 4,
/// <summary>
/// Casual abuse can cause impaired functionality or temporary denial
/// of service conditions. Intentional abuse can easily cause crashes
/// with potential data loss, or can be used to trick experienced and
/// cautious users into unwanted situations, or changes global data
/// permanently and without undo ability.
/// </summary>
High = 5,
/// <summary>
/// Even normal use may, depending on the number of instances, or
/// frequency of use, result in severe service impairment or crash
/// with loss of data, or can be used to cause unwanted or harmful
/// effects on users without giving the user a means to avoid it.
/// </summary>
VeryHigh = 6,
/// <summary>
/// Even casual use is a danger to region stability, or function allows
/// console or OS command execution, or function allows taking money
/// without consent, or allows deletion or modification of user data,
/// or allows the compromise of sensitive data by design.
/// </summary>
Severe = 7
};
public interface IOSSL_Api
{
void CheckThreatLevel(ThreatLevel level, string function);
//OpenSim functions
string osSetDynamicTextureURL(string dynamicID, string contentType, string url, string extraParams, int timer);
string osSetDynamicTextureURLBlend(string dynamicID, string contentType, string url, string extraParams,
int timer, int alpha);
string osSetDynamicTextureURLBlendFace(string dynamicID, string contentType, string url, string extraParams,
bool blend, int disp, int timer, int alpha, int face);
string osSetDynamicTextureData(string dynamicID, string contentType, string data, string extraParams, int timer);
string osSetDynamicTextureDataBlend(string dynamicID, string contentType, string data, string extraParams,
int timer, int alpha);
string osSetDynamicTextureDataBlendFace(string dynamicID, string contentType, string data, string extraParams,
bool blend, int disp, int timer, int alpha, int face);
LSL_Float osGetTerrainHeight(int x, int y);
LSL_Float osTerrainGetHeight(int x, int y); // Deprecated
LSL_Integer osSetTerrainHeight(int x, int y, double val);
LSL_Integer osTerrainSetHeight(int x, int y, double val); //Deprecated
void osTerrainFlush();
int osRegionRestart(double seconds);
void osRegionNotice(string msg);
bool osConsoleCommand(string Command);
void osSetParcelMediaURL(string url);
void osSetPrimFloatOnWater(int floatYN);
void osSetParcelSIPAddress(string SIPAddress);
// Avatar Info Commands
string osGetAgentIP(string agent);
LSL_List osGetAgents();
// Teleport commands
void osTeleportAgent(string agent, string regionName, LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
void osTeleportAgent(string agent, int regionX, int regionY, LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
void osTeleportAgent(string agent, LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
void osTeleportOwner(string regionName, LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
void osTeleportOwner(int regionX, int regionY, LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
void osTeleportOwner(LSL_Types.Vector3 position, LSL_Types.Vector3 lookat);
// Animation commands
void osAvatarPlayAnimation(string avatar, string animation);
void osAvatarStopAnimation(string avatar, string animation);
#region Attachment commands
/// <summary>
/// Attach the object containing this script to the avatar that owns it without asking for PERMISSION_ATTACH
/// </summary>
/// <param name='attachment'>The attachment point. For example, ATTACH_CHEST</param>
void osForceAttachToAvatar(int attachment);
/// <summary>
/// Attach an inventory item in the object containing this script to the avatar that owns it without asking for PERMISSION_ATTACH
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>
/// Nothing happens if the owner is not in the region.
/// </remarks>
/// <param name='itemName'>Tha name of the item. If this is not found then a warning is said to the owner</param>
/// <param name='attachment'>The attachment point. For example, ATTACH_CHEST</param>
void osForceAttachToAvatarFromInventory(string itemName, int attachment);
/// <summary>
/// Attach an inventory item in the object containing this script to any avatar in the region without asking for PERMISSION_ATTACH
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>
/// Nothing happens if the avatar is not in the region.
/// </remarks>
/// <param name='rawAvatarId'>The UUID of the avatar to which to attach. Nothing happens if this is not a UUID</para>
/// <param name='itemName'>The name of the item. If this is not found then a warning is said to the owner</param>
/// <param name='attachment'>The attachment point. For example, ATTACH_CHEST</param>
void osForceAttachToOtherAvatarFromInventory(string rawAvatarId, string itemName, int attachmentPoint);
/// <summary>
/// Detach the object containing this script from the avatar it is attached to without checking for PERMISSION_ATTACH
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>Nothing happens if the object is not attached.</remarks>
void osForceDetachFromAvatar();
/// <summary>
/// Returns a strided list of the specified attachment points and the number of attachments on those points.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="avatar">avatar UUID</param>
/// <param name="attachmentPoints">list of ATTACH_* constants</param>
/// <returns></returns>
LSL_List osGetNumberOfAttachments(LSL_Key avatar, LSL_List attachmentPoints);
/// <summary>
/// Sends a specified message to the specified avatar's attachments on
/// the specified attachment points.
/// </summary>
/// <remarks>
/// Behaves as osMessageObject(), without the sending script needing to know the attachment keys in advance.
/// </remarks>
/// <param name="avatar">avatar UUID</param>
/// <param name="message">message string</param>
/// <param name="attachmentPoints">list of ATTACH_* constants, or -1 for all attachments. If -1 is specified and OS_ATTACH_MSG_INVERT_POINTS is present in flags, no action is taken.</param>
/// <param name="flags">flags further constraining the attachments to deliver the message to.</param>
void osMessageAttachments(LSL_Key avatar, string message, LSL_List attachmentPoints, int flags);
#endregion
//texture draw functions
string osMovePen(string drawList, int x, int y);
string osDrawLine(string drawList, int startX, int startY, int endX, int endY);
string osDrawLine(string drawList, int endX, int endY);
string osDrawText(string drawList, string text);
string osDrawEllipse(string drawList, int width, int height);
string osDrawRectangle(string drawList, int width, int height);
string osDrawFilledRectangle(string drawList, int width, int height);
string osDrawPolygon(string drawList, LSL_List x, LSL_List y);
string osDrawFilledPolygon(string drawList, LSL_List x, LSL_List y);
string osSetFontName(string drawList, string fontName);
string osSetFontSize(string drawList, int fontSize);
string osSetPenSize(string drawList, int penSize);
string osSetPenColor(string drawList, string color);
string osSetPenColour(string drawList, string colour); // Deprecated
string osSetPenCap(string drawList, string direction, string type);
string osDrawImage(string drawList, int width, int height, string imageUrl);
vector osGetDrawStringSize(string contentType, string text, string fontName, int fontSize);
void osSetStateEvents(int events);
double osList2Double(LSL_Types.list src, int index);
void osSetRegionWaterHeight(double height);
void osSetRegionSunSettings(bool useEstateSun, bool sunFixed, double sunHour);
void osSetEstateSunSettings(bool sunFixed, double sunHour);
double osGetCurrentSunHour();
double osGetSunParam(string param);
double osSunGetParam(string param); // Deprecated
void osSetSunParam(string param, double value);
void osSunSetParam(string param, double value); // Deprecated
// Wind Module Functions
string osWindActiveModelPluginName();
void osSetWindParam(string plugin, string param, LSL_Float value);
LSL_Float osGetWindParam(string plugin, string param);
// Parcel commands
void osParcelJoin(vector pos1, vector pos2);
void osParcelSubdivide(vector pos1, vector pos2);
void osSetParcelDetails(vector pos, LSL_List rules);
void osParcelSetDetails(vector pos, LSL_List rules); // Deprecated
string osGetScriptEngineName();
string osGetSimulatorVersion();
LSL_Integer osCheckODE();
string osGetPhysicsEngineType();
Object osParseJSONNew(string JSON);
Hashtable osParseJSON(string JSON);
void osMessageObject(key objectUUID,string message);
void osMakeNotecard(string notecardName, LSL_Types.list contents);
string osGetNotecardLine(string name, int line);
string osGetNotecard(string name);
int osGetNumberOfNotecardLines(string name);
string osAvatarName2Key(string firstname, string lastname);
string osKey2Name(string id);
// Grid Info Functions
string osGetGridNick();
string osGetGridName();
string osGetGridLoginURI();
string osGetGridHomeURI();
string osGetGridGatekeeperURI();
string osGetGridCustom(string key);
LSL_String osFormatString(string str, LSL_List strings);
LSL_List osMatchString(string src, string pattern, int start);
LSL_String osReplaceString(string src, string pattern, string replace, int count, int start);
// Information about data loaded into the region
string osLoadedCreationDate();
string osLoadedCreationTime();
string osLoadedCreationID();
LSL_List osGetLinkPrimitiveParams(int linknumber, LSL_List rules);
/// <summary>
/// Identical to llCreateLink() but does not require permission from the owner.
/// </summary>
/// <param name='target'></param>
/// <param name='parent'></param>
void osForceCreateLink(string target, int parent);
/// <summary>
/// Identical to llBreakLink() but does not require permission from the owner.
/// </summary>
/// <param name='linknum'></param>
void osForceBreakLink(int linknum);
/// <summary>
/// Identical to llBreakAllLinks() but does not require permission from the owner.
/// </summary>
void osForceBreakAllLinks();
/// <summary>
/// Check if the given key is an npc
/// </summary>
/// <param name="npc"></param>
/// <returns>TRUE if the key belongs to an npc in the scene. FALSE otherwise.</returns>
LSL_Integer osIsNpc(LSL_Key npc);
key osNpcCreate(string user, string name, vector position, string notecard);
key osNpcCreate(string user, string name, vector position, string notecard, int options);
LSL_Key osNpcSaveAppearance(key npc, string notecard);
void osNpcLoadAppearance(key npc, string notecard);
vector osNpcGetPos(key npc);
void osNpcMoveTo(key npc, vector position);
void osNpcMoveToTarget(key npc, vector target, int options);
/// <summary>
/// Get the owner of the NPC
/// </summary>
/// <param name="npc"></param>
/// <returns>
/// The owner of the NPC for an owned NPC. The NPC's agent id for an unowned NPC. UUID.Zero if the key is not an npc.
/// </returns>
LSL_Key osNpcGetOwner(key npc);
rotation osNpcGetRot(key npc);
void osNpcSetRot(LSL_Key npc, rotation rot);
void osNpcStopMoveToTarget(LSL_Key npc);
void osNpcSay(key npc, string message);
void osNpcSay(key npc, int channel, string message);
void osNpcShout(key npc, int channel, string message);
void osNpcSit(key npc, key target, int options);
void osNpcStand(LSL_Key npc);
void osNpcRemove(key npc);
void osNpcPlayAnimation(LSL_Key npc, string animation);
void osNpcStopAnimation(LSL_Key npc, string animation);
void osNpcTouch(LSL_Key npcLSL_Key, LSL_Key object_key, LSL_Integer link_num);
void osNpcWhisper(key npc, int channel, string message);
LSL_Key osOwnerSaveAppearance(string notecard);
LSL_Key osAgentSaveAppearance(key agentId, string notecard);
key osGetGender(LSL_Key rawAvatarId);
key osGetMapTexture();
key osGetRegionMapTexture(string regionName);
LSL_List osGetRegionStats();
vector osGetRegionSize();
int osGetSimulatorMemory();
void osKickAvatar(string FirstName,string SurName,string alert);
void osSetSpeed(string UUID, LSL_Float SpeedModifier);
LSL_Float osGetHealth(string avatar);
void osCauseHealing(string avatar, double healing);
void osCauseDamage(string avatar, double damage);
void osForceOtherSit(string avatar);
void osForceOtherSit(string avatar, string target);
LSL_List osGetPrimitiveParams(LSL_Key prim, LSL_List rules);
void osSetPrimitiveParams(LSL_Key prim, LSL_List rules);
void osSetProjectionParams(bool projection, LSL_Key texture, double fov, double focus, double amb);
void osSetProjectionParams(LSL_Key prim, bool projection, LSL_Key texture, double fov, double focus, double amb);
LSL_List osGetAvatarList();
LSL_String osUnixTimeToTimestamp(long time);
LSL_String osGetInventoryDesc(string item);
LSL_Integer osInviteToGroup(LSL_Key agentId);
LSL_Integer osEjectFromGroup(LSL_Key agentId);
void osSetTerrainTexture(int level, LSL_Key texture);
void osSetTerrainTextureHeight(int corner, double low, double high);
/// <summary>
/// Checks if thing is a UUID.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="thing"></param>
/// <returns>1 if thing is a valid UUID, 0 otherwise</returns>
LSL_Integer osIsUUID(string thing);
/// <summary>
/// Wraps to Math.Min()
/// </summary>
/// <param name="a"></param>
/// <param name="b"></param>
/// <returns></returns>
LSL_Float osMin(double a, double b);
/// <summary>
/// Wraps to Math.max()
/// </summary>
/// <param name="a"></param>
/// <param name="b"></param>
/// <returns></returns>
LSL_Float osMax(double a, double b);
/// <summary>
/// Get the key of the object that rezzed this object.
/// </summary>
/// <returns>Rezzing object key or NULL_KEY if rezzed by agent or otherwise unknown.</returns>
LSL_Key osGetRezzingObject();
/// <summary>
/// Sets the response type for an HTTP request/response
/// </summary>
/// <returns></returns>
void osSetContentType(LSL_Key id, string type);
/// <summary>
/// Attempts to drop an attachment to the ground
/// </summary>
void osDropAttachment();
/// <summary>
/// Attempts to drop an attachment to the ground while bypassing the script permissions
/// </summary>
void osForceDropAttachment();
/// <summary>
/// Attempts to drop an attachment at the specified coordinates.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="pos"></param>
/// <param name="rot"></param>
void osDropAttachmentAt(vector pos, rotation rot);
/// <summary>
/// Attempts to drop an attachment at the specified coordinates while bypassing the script permissions
/// </summary>
/// <param name="pos"></param>
/// <param name="rot"></param>
void osForceDropAttachmentAt(vector pos, rotation rot);
/// <summary>
/// Identical to llListen except for a bitfield which indicates which
/// string parameters should be parsed as regex patterns.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="channelID"></param>
/// <param name="name"></param>
/// <param name="ID"></param>
/// <param name="msg"></param>
/// <param name="regexBitfield">
/// OS_LISTEN_REGEX_NAME
/// OS_LISTEN_REGEX_MESSAGE
/// </param>
/// <returns></returns>
LSL_Integer osListenRegex(int channelID, string name, string ID,
string msg, int regexBitfield);
/// <summary>
/// Wraps to bool Regex.IsMatch(string input, string pattern)
/// </summary>
/// <param name="input">string to test for match</param>
/// <param name="regex">string to use as pattern</param>
/// <returns>boolean</returns>
LSL_Integer osRegexIsMatch(string input, string pattern);
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Richard Quine
Richard Quine (November 12, 1920 – June 10, 1989) was an American stage, film, and radio actor and, later, a film director. He began acting as a child in radio, vaudeville, and stage productions before being signed to Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer in his early twenties. When his acting career began to wane after World War II, Quine began working as a film director. He later moved into producing and directing television. Quine's films as director include "Bell Book and Candle" (1958), "The World of Suzie Wong" (1960), "Paris When It Sizzles" (1964), "How to Murder Your Wife" (1965), and "The Prisoner of Zenda" (1979). Depressed over poor health, Quine died of a self-inflicted gunshot wound in June 1989 at the age of 68.
Passage 2:
Dana Blankstein
Dana Blankstein- Cohen( born March 3, 1981) is the director of the Israeli Academy of Film and Television. She is a film director, and an Israeli culture entrepreneur.
Passage 3:
Purple Heart Diary
Purple Heart Diary is a 1951 drama directed by Richard Quine, produced by Sam Katzman and released by Columbia Pictures. It stars Frances Langford and Judd Holdren.
Passage 4:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 5:
John Farrell (businessman)
John Farrell is the director of YouTube in Latin America.
Passage 6:
Graffiti Bridge (film)
Graffiti Bridge is a 1990 American rock musical drama film written by, directed by, and starring Prince in his fourth and final film role. It is the sequel to his 1984 film" Purple Rain". Like its predecessor, it was accompanied by a soundtrack album of the same name.
Passage 7:
Michael Govan
Michael Govan( born 1963) is the director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art since 2006. Prior to this, Govan worked as the director of the Dia Art Foundation in New York City.
Passage 8:
John Donatich
John Donatich is the Director of Yale University Press.
Passage 9:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 10:
Olav Aaraas
Olav Aaraas( born 10 July 1950) is a Norwegian historian and museum director. He was born in Fredrikstad. From 1982 to 1993 he was the director of Sogn Folk Museum, from 1993 to 2010 he was the director of Maihaugen and from 2001 he has been the director of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. In 2010 he was decorated with the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.
Question: Which country the director of film Purple Heart Diary is from?
Answer: American
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
/*
* Copyright 2010-2015 Amazon.com, Inc. or its affiliates. All Rights Reserved.
*
* Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License").
* You may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* A copy of the License is located at
*
* http://aws.amazon.com/apache2.0
*
* or in the "license" file accompanying this file. This file is distributed
* on an "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either
* express or implied. See the License for the specific language governing
* permissions and limitations under the License.
*/
package com.amazonaws.services.route53.model;
import java.io.Serializable;
/**
* <p>
* A complex type that contains information about a
* <code>GeoLocation</code> .
* </p>
*/
public class GeoLocationDetails implements Serializable, Cloneable {
/**
* The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>2 - 2<br/>
*/
private String continentCode;
/**
* The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 32<br/>
*/
private String continentName;
/**
* The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 2<br/>
*/
private String countryCode;
/**
* The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*/
private String countryName;
/**
* The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 3<br/>
*/
private String subdivisionCode;
/**
* The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*/
private String subdivisionName;
/**
* The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>2 - 2<br/>
*
* @return The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
*/
public String getContinentCode() {
return continentCode;
}
/**
* The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>2 - 2<br/>
*
* @param continentCode The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
*/
public void setContinentCode(String continentCode) {
this.continentCode = continentCode;
}
/**
* The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>2 - 2<br/>
*
* @param continentCode The code for a continent geo location. Note: only continent locations
* have a continent code.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withContinentCode(String continentCode) {
this.continentCode = continentCode;
return this;
}
/**
* The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 32<br/>
*
* @return The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
*/
public String getContinentName() {
return continentName;
}
/**
* The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 32<br/>
*
* @param continentName The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
*/
public void setContinentName(String continentName) {
this.continentName = continentName;
}
/**
* The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 32<br/>
*
* @param continentName The name of the continent. This element is only present if
* <code>ContinentCode</code> is also present.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withContinentName(String continentName) {
this.continentName = continentName;
return this;
}
/**
* The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 2<br/>
*
* @return The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
*/
public String getCountryCode() {
return countryCode;
}
/**
* The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 2<br/>
*
* @param countryCode The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
*/
public void setCountryCode(String countryCode) {
this.countryCode = countryCode;
}
/**
* The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 2<br/>
*
* @param countryCode The code for a country geo location. The default location uses '*' for
* the country code and will match all locations that are not matched by
* a geo location. <p>The default geo location uses a <code>*</code> for
* the country code. All other country codes follow the ISO 3166
* two-character code.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withCountryCode(String countryCode) {
this.countryCode = countryCode;
return this;
}
/**
* The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @return The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
*/
public String getCountryName() {
return countryName;
}
/**
* The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @param countryName The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
*/
public void setCountryName(String countryName) {
this.countryName = countryName;
}
/**
* The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @param countryName The name of the country. This element is only present if
* <code>CountryCode</code> is also present.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withCountryName(String countryName) {
this.countryName = countryName;
return this;
}
/**
* The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 3<br/>
*
* @return The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
*/
public String getSubdivisionCode() {
return subdivisionCode;
}
/**
* The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 3<br/>
*
* @param subdivisionCode The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
*/
public void setSubdivisionCode(String subdivisionCode) {
this.subdivisionCode = subdivisionCode;
}
/**
* The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 3<br/>
*
* @param subdivisionCode The code for a country's subdivision (e.g., a province of Canada). A
* subdivision code is only valid with the appropriate country code.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withSubdivisionCode(String subdivisionCode) {
this.subdivisionCode = subdivisionCode;
return this;
}
/**
* The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @return The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
*/
public String getSubdivisionName() {
return subdivisionName;
}
/**
* The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @param subdivisionName The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
*/
public void setSubdivisionName(String subdivisionName) {
this.subdivisionName = subdivisionName;
}
/**
* The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
* <p>
* Returns a reference to this object so that method calls can be chained together.
* <p>
* <b>Constraints:</b><br/>
* <b>Length: </b>1 - 64<br/>
*
* @param subdivisionName The name of the subdivision. This element is only present if
* <code>SubdivisionCode</code> is also present.
*
* @return A reference to this updated object so that method calls can be chained
* together.
*/
public GeoLocationDetails withSubdivisionName(String subdivisionName) {
this.subdivisionName = subdivisionName;
return this;
}
/**
* Returns a string representation of this object; useful for testing and
* debugging.
*
* @return A string representation of this object.
*
* @see java.lang.Object#toString()
*/
@Override
public String toString() {
StringBuilder sb = new StringBuilder();
sb.append("{");
if (getContinentCode() != null) sb.append("ContinentCode: " + getContinentCode() + ",");
if (getContinentName() != null) sb.append("ContinentName: " + getContinentName() + ",");
if (getCountryCode() != null) sb.append("CountryCode: " + getCountryCode() + ",");
if (getCountryName() != null) sb.append("CountryName: " + getCountryName() + ",");
if (getSubdivisionCode() != null) sb.append("SubdivisionCode: " + getSubdivisionCode() + ",");
if (getSubdivisionName() != null) sb.append("SubdivisionName: " + getSubdivisionName() );
sb.append("}");
return sb.toString();
}
@Override
public int hashCode() {
final int prime = 31;
int hashCode = 1;
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getContinentCode() == null) ? 0 : getContinentCode().hashCode());
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getContinentName() == null) ? 0 : getContinentName().hashCode());
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getCountryCode() == null) ? 0 : getCountryCode().hashCode());
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getCountryName() == null) ? 0 : getCountryName().hashCode());
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getSubdivisionCode() == null) ? 0 : getSubdivisionCode().hashCode());
hashCode = prime * hashCode + ((getSubdivisionName() == null) ? 0 : getSubdivisionName().hashCode());
return hashCode;
}
@Override
public boolean equals(Object obj) {
if (this == obj) return true;
if (obj == null) return false;
if (obj instanceof GeoLocationDetails == false) return false;
GeoLocationDetails other = (GeoLocationDetails)obj;
if (other.getContinentCode() == null ^ this.getContinentCode() == null) return false;
if (other.getContinentCode() != null && other.getContinentCode().equals(this.getContinentCode()) == false) return false;
if (other.getContinentName() == null ^ this.getContinentName() == null) return false;
if (other.getContinentName() != null && other.getContinentName().equals(this.getContinentName()) == false) return false;
if (other.getCountryCode() == null ^ this.getCountryCode() == null) return false;
if (other.getCountryCode() != null && other.getCountryCode().equals(this.getCountryCode()) == false) return false;
if (other.getCountryName() == null ^ this.getCountryName() == null) return false;
if (other.getCountryName() != null && other.getCountryName().equals(this.getCountryName()) == false) return false;
if (other.getSubdivisionCode() == null ^ this.getSubdivisionCode() == null) return false;
if (other.getSubdivisionCode() != null && other.getSubdivisionCode().equals(this.getSubdivisionCode()) == false) return false;
if (other.getSubdivisionName() == null ^ this.getSubdivisionName() == null) return false;
if (other.getSubdivisionName() != null && other.getSubdivisionName().equals(this.getSubdivisionName()) == false) return false;
return true;
}
@Override
public GeoLocationDetails clone() {
try {
return (GeoLocationDetails) super.clone();
} catch (CloneNotSupportedException e) {
throw new IllegalStateException(
"Got a CloneNotSupportedException from Object.clone() "
+ "even though we're Cloneable!",
e);
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
// MIT License
//
// Copyright (c) 2009-2017 Luca Piccioni
//
// Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy
// of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal
// in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights
// to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell
// copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is
// furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
//
// The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all
// copies or substantial portions of the Software.
//
// THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED "AS IS", WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR
// IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY,
// FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE
// AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER
// LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM,
// OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE
// SOFTWARE.
//
// This file is automatically generated
#pragma warning disable 649, 1572, 1573
// ReSharper disable RedundantUsingDirective
using System;
using System.Diagnostics;
using System.Runtime.InteropServices;
using System.Security;
using System.Text;
using Khronos;
// ReSharper disable CheckNamespace
// ReSharper disable InconsistentNaming
// ReSharper disable JoinDeclarationAndInitializer
namespace OpenGL
{
public partial class Gl
{
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_VERTEX_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int VERTEX_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103070;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_NORMAL_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int NORMAL_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103071;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103072;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_INDEX_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int INDEX_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103073;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_TEXTURE_COORD_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int TEXTURE_COORD_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103074;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_EDGE_FLAG_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int EDGE_FLAG_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103075;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_FOG_COORDINATE_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int FOG_COORDINATE_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103076;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_SECONDARY_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int SECONDARY_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_IBM = 103077;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_VERTEX_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int VERTEX_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103080;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_NORMAL_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int NORMAL_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103081;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103082;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_INDEX_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int INDEX_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103083;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_TEXTURE_COORD_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int TEXTURE_COORD_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103084;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_EDGE_FLAG_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int EDGE_FLAG_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103085;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_FOG_COORDINATE_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int FOG_COORDINATE_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103086;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] Value of GL_SECONDARY_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM symbol.
/// </summary>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public const int SECONDARY_COLOR_ARRAY_LIST_STRIDE_IBM = 103087;
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glColorPointerListIBM: Binding for glColorPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="size">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:ColorPointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void ColorPointerListIBM(int size, ColorPointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglColorPointerListIBM != null, "pglColorPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglColorPointerListIBM(size, (int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glColorPointerListIBM", null, size, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glSecondaryColorPointerListIBM: Binding for glSecondaryColorPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="size">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void SecondaryColorPointerListIBM(int size, int type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglSecondaryColorPointerListIBM != null, "pglSecondaryColorPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglSecondaryColorPointerListIBM(size, type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glSecondaryColorPointerListIBM", null, size, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glEdgeFlagPointerListIBM: Binding for glEdgeFlagPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:bool[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void EdgeFlagPointerListIBM(int stride, bool[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglEdgeFlagPointerListIBM != null, "pglEdgeFlagPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglEdgeFlagPointerListIBM(stride, pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glEdgeFlagPointerListIBM", null, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glFogCoordPointerListIBM: Binding for glFogCoordPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:FogCoordinatePointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void FogCoordPointerListIBM(FogCoordinatePointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglFogCoordPointerListIBM != null, "pglFogCoordPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglFogCoordPointerListIBM((int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glFogCoordPointerListIBM", null, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glIndexPointerListIBM: Binding for glIndexPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:IndexPointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void IndexPointerListIBM(IndexPointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglIndexPointerListIBM != null, "pglIndexPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglIndexPointerListIBM((int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glIndexPointerListIBM", null, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glNormalPointerListIBM: Binding for glNormalPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:NormalPointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void NormalPointerListIBM(NormalPointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglNormalPointerListIBM != null, "pglNormalPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglNormalPointerListIBM((int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glNormalPointerListIBM", null, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glTexCoordPointerListIBM: Binding for glTexCoordPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="size">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:TexCoordPointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void TexCoordPointerListIBM(int size, TexCoordPointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglTexCoordPointerListIBM != null, "pglTexCoordPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglTexCoordPointerListIBM(size, (int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glTexCoordPointerListIBM", null, size, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
/// <summary>
/// [GL] glVertexPointerListIBM: Binding for glVertexPointerListIBM.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="size">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="type">
/// A <see cref="T:VertexPointerType"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="stride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="pointer">
/// A <see cref="T:IntPtr[]"/>.
/// </param>
/// <param name="ptrstride">
/// A <see cref="T:int"/>.
/// </param>
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
public static void VertexPointerListIBM(int size, VertexPointerType type, int stride, IntPtr[] pointer, int ptrstride)
{
unsafe {
fixed (IntPtr* p_pointer = pointer)
{
Debug.Assert(Delegates.pglVertexPointerListIBM != null, "pglVertexPointerListIBM not implemented");
Delegates.pglVertexPointerListIBM(size, (int)type, stride, p_pointer, ptrstride);
LogCommand("glVertexPointerListIBM", null, size, type, stride, pointer, ptrstride );
}
}
DebugCheckErrors(null);
}
internal static unsafe partial class Delegates
{
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glColorPointerListIBM(int size, int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glColorPointerListIBM pglColorPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glSecondaryColorPointerListIBM(int size, int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glSecondaryColorPointerListIBM pglSecondaryColorPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glEdgeFlagPointerListIBM(int stride, bool[] pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glEdgeFlagPointerListIBM pglEdgeFlagPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glFogCoordPointerListIBM(int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glFogCoordPointerListIBM pglFogCoordPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glIndexPointerListIBM(int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glIndexPointerListIBM pglIndexPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glNormalPointerListIBM(int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glNormalPointerListIBM pglNormalPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glTexCoordPointerListIBM(int size, int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glTexCoordPointerListIBM pglTexCoordPointerListIBM;
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[SuppressUnmanagedCodeSecurity]
internal delegate void glVertexPointerListIBM(int size, int type, int stride, IntPtr* pointer, int ptrstride);
[RequiredByFeature("GL_IBM_vertex_array_lists")]
[ThreadStatic]
internal static glVertexPointerListIBM pglVertexPointerListIBM;
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to the Apache Software Foundation (ASF) under one or more
* contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file distributed with
* this work for additional information regarding copyright ownership.
* The ASF licenses this file to You under the Apache License, Version 2.0
* (the "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance with
* the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*/
// ReSharper disable UnusedAutoPropertyAccessor.Global
// ReSharper disable MemberCanBePrivate.Global
namespace Apache.Ignite.Core.Tests.Cache.Query
{
using System;
using System.Collections;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Diagnostics.CodeAnalysis;
using System.Linq;
using System.Text;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Binary;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Cache;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Cache.Configuration;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Cache.Query;
using Apache.Ignite.Core.Common;
using NUnit.Framework;
/// <summary>
/// Queries tests.
/// </summary>
public class CacheQueriesTest
{
/** Grid count. */
private const int GridCnt = 2;
/** Cache name. */
private const string CacheName = "cache";
/** Path to XML configuration. */
private const string CfgPath = "config\\cache-query.xml";
/** Maximum amount of items in cache. */
private const int MaxItemCnt = 100;
/// <summary>
/// Fixture setup.
/// </summary>
[TestFixtureSetUp]
public void StartGrids()
{
for (int i = 0; i < GridCnt; i++)
{
Ignition.Start(new IgniteConfiguration(TestUtils.GetTestConfiguration())
{
BinaryConfiguration = new BinaryConfiguration
{
NameMapper = GetNameMapper()
},
SpringConfigUrl = CfgPath,
IgniteInstanceName = "grid-" + i
});
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Gets the name mapper.
/// </summary>
protected virtual IBinaryNameMapper GetNameMapper()
{
return BinaryBasicNameMapper.FullNameInstance;
}
/// <summary>
/// Fixture teardown.
/// </summary>
[TestFixtureTearDown]
public void StopGrids()
{
Ignition.StopAll(true);
}
/// <summary>
///
/// </summary>
[SetUp]
public void BeforeTest()
{
Console.WriteLine("Test started: " + TestContext.CurrentContext.Test.Name);
}
/// <summary>
///
/// </summary>
[TearDown]
public void AfterTest()
{
var cache = Cache();
for (int i = 0; i < GridCnt; i++)
{
cache.Clear();
Assert.IsTrue(cache.IsEmpty());
}
TestUtils.AssertHandleRegistryIsEmpty(300,
Enumerable.Range(0, GridCnt).Select(x => Ignition.GetIgnite("grid-" + x)).ToArray());
Console.WriteLine("Test finished: " + TestContext.CurrentContext.Test.Name);
}
/// <summary>
/// Gets the ignite.
/// </summary>
private static IIgnite GetIgnite()
{
return Ignition.GetIgnite("grid-0");
}
/// <summary>
///
/// </summary>
/// <returns></returns>
private static ICache<int, QueryPerson> Cache()
{
return GetIgnite().GetCache<int, QueryPerson>(CacheName);
}
/// <summary>
/// Test arguments validation for SQL queries.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestValidationSql()
{
// 1. No sql.
Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() =>
{ Cache().Query(new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), null)); });
// 2. No type.
Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() =>
{ Cache().Query(new SqlQuery((string)null, "age >= 50")); });
}
/// <summary>
/// Test arguments validation for SQL fields queries.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestValidationSqlFields()
{
// 1. No sql.
Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() => { Cache().QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery(null)); });
}
/// <summary>
/// Test arguments validation for TEXT queries.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestValidationText()
{
// 1. No text.
Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() =>
{ Cache().Query(new TextQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), null)); });
// 2. No type.
Assert.Throws<ArgumentException>(() =>
{ Cache().Query(new TextQuery((string)null, "Ivanov")); });
}
/// <summary>
/// Cursor tests.
/// </summary>
[Test]
[SuppressMessage("ReSharper", "ReturnValueOfPureMethodIsNotUsed")]
public void TestCursor()
{
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Ivanov", 30));
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Petrov", 40));
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Sidorov", 50));
SqlQuery qry = new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "age >= 20");
// 1. Test GetAll().
using (IQueryCursor<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> cursor = Cache().Query(qry))
{
cursor.GetAll();
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() => { cursor.GetAll(); });
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() => { cursor.GetEnumerator(); });
}
// 2. Test GetEnumerator.
using (IQueryCursor<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> cursor = Cache().Query(qry))
{
cursor.GetEnumerator();
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() => { cursor.GetAll(); });
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() => { cursor.GetEnumerator(); });
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Test enumerator.
/// </summary>
[Test]
[SuppressMessage("ReSharper", "UnusedVariable")]
public void TestEnumerator()
{
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Ivanov", 30));
Cache().Put(2, new QueryPerson("Petrov", 40));
Cache().Put(3, new QueryPerson("Sidorov", 50));
Cache().Put(4, new QueryPerson("Unknown", 60));
// 1. Empty result set.
using (IQueryCursor<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> cursor =
Cache().Query(new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "age = 100")))
{
IEnumerator<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> e = cursor.GetEnumerator();
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() =>
{ ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson> entry = e.Current; });
Assert.IsFalse(e.MoveNext());
Assert.Throws<InvalidOperationException>(() =>
{ ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson> entry = e.Current; });
Assert.Throws<NotSupportedException>(() => e.Reset());
e.Dispose();
}
SqlQuery qry = new SqlQuery(typeof (QueryPerson), "age < 60");
Assert.AreEqual(QueryBase.DefaultPageSize, qry.PageSize);
// 2. Page size is bigger than result set.
qry.PageSize = 4;
CheckEnumeratorQuery(qry);
// 3. Page size equal to result set.
qry.PageSize = 3;
CheckEnumeratorQuery(qry);
// 4. Page size if less than result set.
qry.PageSize = 2;
CheckEnumeratorQuery(qry);
}
/// <summary>
/// Test SQL query arguments passing.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlQueryArguments()
{
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Ivanov", 30));
Cache().Put(2, new QueryPerson("Petrov", 40));
Cache().Put(3, new QueryPerson("Sidorov", 50));
// 1. Empty result set.
using (
IQueryCursor<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> cursor =
Cache().Query(new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "age < ?", 50)))
{
foreach (ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson> entry in cursor.GetAll())
Assert.IsTrue(entry.Key == 1 || entry.Key == 2);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Test SQL fields query arguments passing.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlFieldsQueryArguments()
{
Cache().Put(1, new QueryPerson("Ivanov", 30));
Cache().Put(2, new QueryPerson("Petrov", 40));
Cache().Put(3, new QueryPerson("Sidorov", 50));
// 1. Empty result set.
using (
IQueryCursor<IList> cursor = Cache().QueryFields(
new SqlFieldsQuery("SELECT age FROM QueryPerson WHERE age < ?", 50)))
{
foreach (IList entry in cursor.GetAll())
Assert.IsTrue((int) entry[0] < 50);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Check query result for enumerator test.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="qry">QUery.</param>
private void CheckEnumeratorQuery(SqlQuery qry)
{
using (IQueryCursor<ICacheEntry<int, QueryPerson>> cursor = Cache().Query(qry))
{
bool first = false;
bool second = false;
bool third = false;
foreach (var entry in cursor)
{
if (entry.Key == 1)
{
first = true;
Assert.AreEqual("Ivanov", entry.Value.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(30, entry.Value.Age);
}
else if (entry.Key == 2)
{
second = true;
Assert.AreEqual("Petrov", entry.Value.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(40, entry.Value.Age);
}
else if (entry.Key == 3)
{
third = true;
Assert.AreEqual("Sidorov", entry.Value.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(50, entry.Value.Age);
}
else
Assert.Fail("Unexpected value: " + entry);
}
Assert.IsTrue(first && second && third);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Check SQL query.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlQuery([Values(true, false)] bool loc, [Values(true, false)] bool keepBinary,
[Values(true, false)] bool distrJoin)
{
var cache = Cache();
// 1. Populate cache with data, calculating expected count in parallel.
var exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, MaxItemCnt, x => x < 50);
// 2. Validate results.
var qry = new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "age < 50", loc)
{
EnableDistributedJoins = distrJoin,
ReplicatedOnly = false,
Timeout = TimeSpan.FromSeconds(3)
};
Assert.AreEqual(string.Format("SqlQuery [Sql=age < 50, Arguments=[], Local={0}, " +
"PageSize=1024, EnableDistributedJoins={1}, Timeout={2}, " +
"ReplicatedOnly=False]", loc, distrJoin, qry.Timeout), qry.ToString());
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary);
}
/// <summary>
/// Check SQL fields query.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlFieldsQuery([Values(true, false)] bool loc, [Values(true, false)] bool distrJoin,
[Values(true, false)] bool enforceJoinOrder)
{
int cnt = MaxItemCnt;
var cache = Cache();
// 1. Populate cache with data, calculating expected count in parallel.
var exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50);
// 2. Validate results.
var qry = new SqlFieldsQuery("SELECT name, age FROM QueryPerson WHERE age < 50", loc)
{
EnableDistributedJoins = distrJoin,
EnforceJoinOrder = enforceJoinOrder,
Colocated = !distrJoin,
ReplicatedOnly = false,
Timeout = TimeSpan.FromSeconds(2)
};
using (IQueryCursor<IList> cursor = cache.QueryFields(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
foreach (var entry in cursor.GetAll())
{
Assert.AreEqual(2, entry.Count);
Assert.AreEqual(entry[0].ToString(), entry[1].ToString());
exp0.Remove((int)entry[1]);
}
Assert.AreEqual(0, exp0.Count);
}
using (IQueryCursor<IList> cursor = cache.QueryFields(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
foreach (var entry in cursor)
{
Assert.AreEqual(entry[0].ToString(), entry[1].ToString());
exp0.Remove((int)entry[1]);
}
Assert.AreEqual(0, exp0.Count);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Check text query.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestTextQuery([Values(true, false)] bool loc, [Values(true, false)] bool keepBinary)
{
var cache = Cache();
// 1. Populate cache with data, calculating expected count in parallel.
var exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, MaxItemCnt, x => x.ToString().StartsWith("1"));
// 2. Validate results.
var qry = new TextQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "1*", loc);
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary);
}
/// <summary>
/// Check scan query.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestScanQuery([Values(true, false)] bool loc)
{
CheckScanQuery<QueryPerson>(loc, false);
}
/// <summary>
/// Check scan query in binary mode.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestScanQueryBinary([Values(true, false)] bool loc)
{
CheckScanQuery<IBinaryObject>(loc, true);
}
/// <summary>
/// Check scan query with partitions.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestScanQueryPartitions([Values(true, false)] bool loc)
{
CheckScanQueryPartitions<QueryPerson>(loc, false);
}
/// <summary>
/// Check scan query with partitions in binary mode.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestScanQueryPartitionsBinary([Values(true, false)] bool loc)
{
CheckScanQueryPartitions<IBinaryObject>(loc, true);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests that query attempt on non-indexed cache causes an exception.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestIndexingDisabledError()
{
var cache = GetIgnite().GetOrCreateCache<int, QueryPerson>("nonindexed_cache");
var queries = new QueryBase[]
{
new TextQuery(typeof (QueryPerson), "1*"),
new SqlQuery(typeof (QueryPerson), "age < 50")
};
foreach (var qry in queries)
{
var err = Assert.Throws<IgniteException>(() => cache.Query(qry));
Assert.AreEqual("Indexing is disabled for cache: nonindexed_cache. " +
"Use setIndexedTypes or setTypeMetadata methods on CacheConfiguration to enable.", err.Message);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Check scan query.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="loc">Local query flag.</param>
/// <param name="keepBinary">Keep binary flag.</param>
private static void CheckScanQuery<TV>(bool loc, bool keepBinary)
{
var cache = Cache();
int cnt = MaxItemCnt;
// No predicate
var exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => true);
var qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>();
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary);
// Serializable
exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50);
qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>(new ScanQueryFilter<TV>());
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary);
// Binarizable
exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50);
qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>(new BinarizableScanQueryFilter<TV>());
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary);
// Invalid
exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50);
qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>(new InvalidScanQueryFilter<TV>());
Assert.Throws<BinaryObjectException>(() => ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary));
// Exception
exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50);
qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>(new ScanQueryFilter<TV> {ThrowErr = true});
var ex = Assert.Throws<IgniteException>(() => ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp, keepBinary));
Assert.AreEqual(ScanQueryFilter<TV>.ErrMessage, ex.Message);
}
/// <summary>
/// Checks scan query with partitions.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="loc">Local query flag.</param>
/// <param name="keepBinary">Keep binary flag.</param>
private void CheckScanQueryPartitions<TV>(bool loc, bool keepBinary)
{
StopGrids();
StartGrids();
var cache = Cache();
int cnt = MaxItemCnt;
var aff = cache.Ignite.GetAffinity(CacheName);
var exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => true); // populate outside the loop (slow)
for (var part = 0; part < aff.Partitions; part++)
{
//var exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp.Where(x => aff.Partition(x) == part)); // filter expected keys
var exp0 = new HashSet<int>();
foreach (var x in exp)
if (aff.GetPartition(x) == part)
exp0.Add(x);
var qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV> { Partition = part };
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp0, keepBinary);
}
// Partitions with predicate
exp = PopulateCache(cache, loc, cnt, x => x < 50); // populate outside the loop (slow)
for (var part = 0; part < aff.Partitions; part++)
{
//var exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp.Where(x => aff.Partition(x) == part)); // filter expected keys
var exp0 = new HashSet<int>();
foreach (var x in exp)
if (aff.GetPartition(x) == part)
exp0.Add(x);
var qry = new ScanQuery<int, TV>(new ScanQueryFilter<TV>()) { Partition = part };
ValidateQueryResults(cache, qry, exp0, keepBinary);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the distributed joins flag.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestDistributedJoins()
{
var cache = GetIgnite().GetOrCreateCache<int, QueryPerson>(
new CacheConfiguration("replicatedCache")
{
QueryEntities = new[]
{
new QueryEntity(typeof(int), typeof(QueryPerson))
{
Fields = new[] {new QueryField("age", "int")}
}
}
});
const int count = 100;
cache.PutAll(Enumerable.Range(0, count).ToDictionary(x => x, x => new QueryPerson("Name" + x, x)));
// Test non-distributed join: returns partial results
var sql = "select T0.Age from QueryPerson as T0 " +
"inner join QueryPerson as T1 on ((? - T1.Age - 1) = T0._key)";
var res = cache.QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery(sql, count)).GetAll().Distinct().Count();
Assert.Greater(res, 0);
Assert.Less(res, count);
// Test distributed join: returns complete results
res = cache.QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery(sql, count) {EnableDistributedJoins = true})
.GetAll().Distinct().Count();
Assert.AreEqual(count, res);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests the get configuration.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestGetConfiguration()
{
var entity = Cache().GetConfiguration().QueryEntities.Single();
Assert.AreEqual(typeof(int), entity.Fields.Single(x => x.Name == "age").FieldType);
Assert.AreEqual(typeof(string), entity.Fields.Single(x => x.Name == "name").FieldType);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests custom key and value field names.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestCustomKeyValueFieldNames()
{
// Check select * with default config - does not include _key, _val.
var cache = Cache();
cache[1] = new QueryPerson("Joe", 48);
var row = cache.QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery("select * from QueryPerson")).GetAll()[0];
Assert.AreEqual(2, row.Count);
Assert.AreEqual(48, row[0]);
Assert.AreEqual("Joe", row[1]);
// Check select * with custom names - fields are included.
cache = GetIgnite().GetOrCreateCache<int, QueryPerson>(
new CacheConfiguration("customKeyVal")
{
QueryEntities = new[]
{
new QueryEntity(typeof(int), typeof(QueryPerson))
{
Fields = new[]
{
new QueryField("age", "int"),
new QueryField("FullKey", "int"),
new QueryField("FullVal", "QueryPerson")
},
KeyFieldName = "FullKey",
ValueFieldName = "FullVal"
}
}
});
cache[1] = new QueryPerson("John", 33);
row = cache.QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery("select * from QueryPerson")).GetAll()[0];
Assert.AreEqual(3, row.Count);
Assert.AreEqual(33, row[0]);
Assert.AreEqual(1, row[1]);
var person = (QueryPerson) row[2];
Assert.AreEqual("John", person.Name);
// Check explicit select.
row = cache.QueryFields(new SqlFieldsQuery("select FullKey from QueryPerson")).GetAll()[0];
Assert.AreEqual(1, row[0]);
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests query timeouts.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlQueryTimeout()
{
var cache = Cache();
PopulateCache(cache, false, 20000, x => true);
var sqlQry = new SqlQuery(typeof(QueryPerson), "WHERE age < 500 AND name like '%1%'")
{
Timeout = TimeSpan.FromMilliseconds(2)
};
// ReSharper disable once ReturnValueOfPureMethodIsNotUsed
var ex = Assert.Throws<CacheException>(() => cache.Query(sqlQry).ToArray());
Assert.IsTrue(ex.ToString().Contains("QueryCancelledException: The query was cancelled while executing."));
}
/// <summary>
/// Tests fields query timeouts.
/// </summary>
[Test]
public void TestSqlFieldsQueryTimeout()
{
var cache = Cache();
PopulateCache(cache, false, 20000, x => true);
var fieldsQry = new SqlFieldsQuery("SELECT * FROM QueryPerson WHERE age < 5000 AND name like '%0%'")
{
Timeout = TimeSpan.FromMilliseconds(3)
};
// ReSharper disable once ReturnValueOfPureMethodIsNotUsed
var ex = Assert.Throws<CacheException>(() => cache.QueryFields(fieldsQry).ToArray());
Assert.IsTrue(ex.ToString().Contains("QueryCancelledException: The query was cancelled while executing."));
}
/// <summary>
/// Validates the query results.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="cache">Cache.</param>
/// <param name="qry">Query.</param>
/// <param name="exp">Expected keys.</param>
/// <param name="keepBinary">Keep binary flag.</param>
private static void ValidateQueryResults(ICache<int, QueryPerson> cache, QueryBase qry, HashSet<int> exp,
bool keepBinary)
{
if (keepBinary)
{
var cache0 = cache.WithKeepBinary<int, IBinaryObject>();
using (var cursor = cache0.Query(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
var all = new List<ICacheEntry<int, object>>();
foreach (var entry in cursor.GetAll())
{
all.Add(entry);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key.ToString(), entry.Value.GetField<string>("name"));
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key, entry.Value.GetField<int>("age"));
exp0.Remove(entry.Key);
}
AssertMissingExpectedKeys(exp0, cache, all);
}
using (var cursor = cache0.Query(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
var all = new List<ICacheEntry<int, object>>();
foreach (var entry in cursor)
{
all.Add(entry);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key.ToString(), entry.Value.GetField<string>("name"));
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key, entry.Value.GetField<int>("age"));
exp0.Remove(entry.Key);
}
AssertMissingExpectedKeys(exp0, cache, all);
}
}
else
{
using (var cursor = cache.Query(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
var all = new List<ICacheEntry<int, object>>();
foreach (var entry in cursor.GetAll())
{
all.Add(entry);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key.ToString(), entry.Value.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key, entry.Value.Age);
exp0.Remove(entry.Key);
}
AssertMissingExpectedKeys(exp0, cache, all);
}
using (var cursor = cache.Query(qry))
{
HashSet<int> exp0 = new HashSet<int>(exp);
var all = new List<ICacheEntry<int, object>>();
foreach (var entry in cursor)
{
all.Add(entry);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key.ToString(), entry.Value.Name);
Assert.AreEqual(entry.Key, entry.Value.Age);
exp0.Remove(entry.Key);
}
AssertMissingExpectedKeys(exp0, cache, all);
}
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Asserts that all expected entries have been received.
/// </summary>
private static void AssertMissingExpectedKeys(ICollection<int> exp, ICache<int, QueryPerson> cache,
IList<ICacheEntry<int, object>> all)
{
if (exp.Count == 0)
return;
var sb = new StringBuilder();
var aff = cache.Ignite.GetAffinity(cache.Name);
foreach (var key in exp)
{
var part = aff.GetPartition(key);
sb.AppendFormat(
"Query did not return expected key '{0}' (exists: {1}), partition '{2}', partition nodes: ",
key, cache.Get(key) != null, part);
var partNodes = aff.MapPartitionToPrimaryAndBackups(part);
foreach (var node in partNodes)
sb.Append(node).Append(" ");
sb.AppendLine(";");
}
sb.Append("Returned keys: ");
foreach (var e in all)
sb.Append(e.Key).Append(" ");
sb.AppendLine(";");
Assert.Fail(sb.ToString());
}
/// <summary>
/// Populates the cache with random entries and returns expected results set according to filter.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="cache">The cache.</param>
/// <param name="cnt">Amount of cache entries to create.</param>
/// <param name="loc">Local query flag.</param>
/// <param name="expectedEntryFilter">The expected entry filter.</param>
/// <returns>Expected results set.</returns>
private static HashSet<int> PopulateCache(ICache<int, QueryPerson> cache, bool loc, int cnt,
Func<int, bool> expectedEntryFilter)
{
var rand = new Random();
var exp = new HashSet<int>();
var aff = cache.Ignite.GetAffinity(cache.Name);
var localNode = cache.Ignite.GetCluster().GetLocalNode();
for (var i = 0; i < cnt; i++)
{
var val = rand.Next(cnt);
cache.Put(val, new QueryPerson(val.ToString(), val));
if (expectedEntryFilter(val) && (!loc || aff.IsPrimary(localNode, val)))
exp.Add(val);
}
return exp;
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Person.
/// </summary>
public class QueryPerson
{
/// <summary>
/// Constructor.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="name">Name.</param>
/// <param name="age">Age.</param>
public QueryPerson(string name, int age)
{
Name = name;
Age = age % 2000;
Birthday = DateTime.UtcNow.AddYears(-Age);
}
/// <summary>
/// Name.
/// </summary>
public string Name { get; set; }
/// <summary>
/// Age.
/// </summary>
public int Age { get; set; }
/// <summary>
/// Gets or sets the birthday.
/// </summary>
[QuerySqlField] // Enforce Timestamp serialization
public DateTime Birthday { get; set; }
}
/// <summary>
/// Query filter.
/// </summary>
[Serializable]
public class ScanQueryFilter<TV> : ICacheEntryFilter<int, TV>
{
// Error message
public const string ErrMessage = "Error in ScanQueryFilter.Invoke";
// Error flag
public bool ThrowErr { get; set; }
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public bool Invoke(ICacheEntry<int, TV> entry)
{
if (ThrowErr)
throw new Exception(ErrMessage);
return entry.Key < 50;
}
}
/// <summary>
/// binary query filter.
/// </summary>
public class BinarizableScanQueryFilter<TV> : ScanQueryFilter<TV>, IBinarizable
{
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void WriteBinary(IBinaryWriter writer)
{
var w = writer.GetRawWriter();
w.WriteBoolean(ThrowErr);
}
/** <inheritdoc /> */
public void ReadBinary(IBinaryReader reader)
{
var r = reader.GetRawReader();
ThrowErr = r.ReadBoolean();
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Filter that can't be serialized.
/// </summary>
public class InvalidScanQueryFilter<TV> : ScanQueryFilter<TV>, IBinarizable
{
public void WriteBinary(IBinaryWriter writer)
{
throw new BinaryObjectException("Expected");
}
public void ReadBinary(IBinaryReader reader)
{
throw new BinaryObjectException("Expected");
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
* QUANTCONNECT.COM - Democratizing Finance, Empowering Individuals.
* Lean Algorithmic Trading Engine v2.0. Copyright 2014 QuantConnect Corporation.
*
* Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License");
* you may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* You may obtain a copy of the License at http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*/
using QuantConnect.Securities;
using QuantConnect.Util;
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Linq;
namespace QuantConnect.ToolBox.RandomDataGenerator
{
/// <summary>
/// Provide the base symbol generator implementation
/// </summary>
public abstract class BaseSymbolGenerator
{
/// <summary>
/// <see cref="IRandomValueGenerator"/> instance producing random values for use in random data generation
/// </summary>
protected IRandomValueGenerator Random { get; }
/// <summary>
/// Settings of current random data generation run
/// </summary>
protected RandomDataGeneratorSettings Settings { get; }
/// <summary>
/// Exchange hours and raw data times zones in various markets
/// </summary>
protected MarketHoursDatabase MarketHoursDatabase { get; }
/// <summary>
/// Access to specific properties for various symbols
/// </summary>
protected SymbolPropertiesDatabase SymbolPropertiesDatabase { get; }
// used to prevent generating duplicates, but also caps
// the memory allocated to checking for duplicates
private readonly FixedSizeHashQueue<Symbol> _symbols;
/// <summary>
/// Base constructor implementation for Symbol generator
/// </summary>
/// <param name="settings">random data generation run settings</param>
/// <param name="random">produces random values for use in random data generation</param>
protected BaseSymbolGenerator(RandomDataGeneratorSettings settings, IRandomValueGenerator random)
{
Settings = settings;
Random = random;
_symbols = new FixedSizeHashQueue<Symbol>(1000);
SymbolPropertiesDatabase = SymbolPropertiesDatabase.FromDataFolder();
MarketHoursDatabase = MarketHoursDatabase.FromDataFolder();
}
/// <summary>
/// Creates a ad-hoc symbol generator depending on settings
/// </summary>
/// <param name="settings">random data generator settings</param>
/// <param name="random">produces random values for use in random data generation</param>
/// <returns>New symbol generator</returns>
public static BaseSymbolGenerator Create(RandomDataGeneratorSettings settings, IRandomValueGenerator random)
{
if (settings is null)
{
throw new ArgumentNullException(nameof(settings), "Settings cannot be null or empty");
}
if (random is null)
{
throw new ArgumentNullException(nameof(random), "Randomizer cannot be null");
}
switch (settings.SecurityType)
{
case SecurityType.Option:
return new OptionSymbolGenerator(settings, random, 100m, 75m);
case SecurityType.Future:
return new FutureSymbolGenerator(settings, random);
default:
return new DefaultSymbolGenerator(settings, random);
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Generates specified number of symbols
/// </summary>
/// <returns>Set of random symbols</returns>
public IEnumerable<Symbol> GenerateRandomSymbols()
{
if (!Settings.Tickers.IsNullOrEmpty())
{
foreach (var symbol in Settings.Tickers.SelectMany(GenerateAsset))
{
yield return symbol;
}
}
else
{
for (var i = 0; i < Settings.SymbolCount; i++)
{
foreach (var symbol in GenerateAsset())
{
yield return symbol;
}
}
}
}
/// <summary>
/// Generates a random asset
/// </summary>
/// <param name="ticker">Optionally can provide a ticker that should be used</param>
/// <returns>Random asset</returns>
protected abstract IEnumerable<Symbol> GenerateAsset(string ticker = null);
/// <summary>
/// Generates random symbol, used further down for asset
/// </summary>
/// <param name="securityType">security type</param>
/// <param name="market">market</param>
/// <param name="ticker">Optionally can provide a ticker to use</param>
/// <returns>Random symbol</returns>
public Symbol NextSymbol(SecurityType securityType, string market, string ticker = null)
{
if (securityType == SecurityType.Option || securityType == SecurityType.Future)
{
throw new ArgumentException("Please use OptionSymbolGenerator or FutureSymbolGenerator for SecurityType.Option and SecurityType.Future respectively.");
}
if (ticker == null)
{
// we must return a Symbol matching an entry in the Symbol properties database
// if there is a wildcard entry, we can generate a truly random Symbol
// if there is no wildcard entry, the symbols we can generate are limited by the entries in the database
if (SymbolPropertiesDatabase.ContainsKey(market, SecurityDatabaseKey.Wildcard, securityType))
{
// let's make symbols all have 3 chars as it's acceptable for all security types with wildcard entries
ticker = NextUpperCaseString(3, 3);
}
else
{
ticker = NextTickerFromSymbolPropertiesDatabase(securityType, market);
}
}
// by chance we may generate a ticker that actually exists, and if map files exist that match this
// ticker then we'll end up resolving the first trading date for use in the SID, otherwise, all
// generated Symbol will have a date equal to SecurityIdentifier.DefaultDate
var symbol = Symbol.Create(ticker, securityType, market);
if (_symbols.Add(symbol))
{
return symbol;
}
// lo' and behold, we created a duplicate --recurse to find a unique value
// this is purposefully done as the last statement to enable the compiler to
// unroll this method into a tail-recursion loop :)
return NextSymbol(securityType, market);
}
/// <summary>
/// Return a Ticker matching an entry in the Symbol properties database
/// </summary>
/// <param name="securityType">security type</param>
/// <param name="market"></param>
/// <returns>Random Ticker matching an entry in the Symbol properties database</returns>
protected string NextTickerFromSymbolPropertiesDatabase(SecurityType securityType, string market)
{
// prevent returning a ticker matching any previously generated Symbol
var existingTickers = _symbols
.Where(sym => sym.ID.Market == market && sym.ID.SecurityType == securityType)
.Select(sym => sym.Value);
// get the available tickers from the Symbol properties database and remove previously generated tickers
var availableTickers = Enumerable.Except(SymbolPropertiesDatabase.GetSymbolPropertiesList(market, securityType)
.Select(kvp => kvp.Key.Symbol), existingTickers)
.ToList();
// there is a limited number of entries in the Symbol properties database so we may run out of tickers
if (availableTickers.Count == 0)
{
throw new NoTickersAvailableException(securityType, market);
}
return availableTickers[Random.NextInt(availableTickers.Count)];
}
/// <summary>
/// Generates random expiration date on a friday within specified time range
/// </summary>
/// <param name="marketHours">market hours</param>
/// <param name="minExpiry">minimum expiration date</param>
/// <param name="maxExpiry">maximum expiration date</param>
/// <returns>Random date on a friday within specified time range</returns>
protected DateTime GetRandomExpiration(SecurityExchangeHours marketHours, DateTime minExpiry, DateTime maxExpiry)
{
// generate a random expiration date on a friday
var expiry = Random.NextDate(minExpiry, maxExpiry, DayOfWeek.Friday);
// check to see if we're open on this date and if not, back track until we are
// we're using the equity market hours as a proxy since we haven't generated the option Symbol yet
while (!marketHours.IsDateOpen(expiry))
{
expiry = expiry.AddDays(-1);
}
return expiry;
}
/// <summary>
/// Generates a random <see cref="string"/> within the specified lengths.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="minLength">The minimum length, inclusive</param>
/// <param name="maxLength">The maximum length, inclusive</param>
/// <returns>A new upper case string within the specified lengths</returns>
public string NextUpperCaseString(int minLength, int maxLength)
{
var str = string.Empty;
var length = Random.NextInt(minLength, maxLength);
for (int i = 0; i < length; i++)
{
// A=65 - inclusive lower bound
// Z=90 - inclusive upper bound
var c = (char)Random.NextInt(65, 91);
str += c;
}
return str;
}
/// <summary>
/// Returns the number of symbols with the specified parameters can be generated.
/// Returns int.MaxValue if there is no limit for the given parameters.
/// </summary>
/// <returns>The number of available symbols for the given parameters, or int.MaxValue if no limit</returns>
public abstract int GetAvailableSymbolCount();
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to ElasticSearch and Shay Banon under one
* or more contributor license agreements. See the NOTICE file
* distributed with this work for additional information
* regarding copyright ownership. ElasticSearch licenses this
* file to you under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the
* "License"); you may not use this file except in compliance
* with the License. You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing,
* software distributed under the License is distributed on an
* "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY
* KIND, either express or implied. See the License for the
* specific language governing permissions and limitations
* under the License.
*/
package org.elasticsearch.client;
import org.elasticsearch.action.*;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.ClusterAction;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.health.ClusterHealthRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.health.ClusterHealthRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.health.ClusterHealthResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.info.NodesInfoRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.info.NodesInfoRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.info.NodesInfoResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.restart.NodesRestartRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.restart.NodesRestartRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.restart.NodesRestartResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.shutdown.NodesShutdownRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.shutdown.NodesShutdownRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.shutdown.NodesShutdownResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.stats.NodesStatsRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.stats.NodesStatsRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.node.stats.NodesStatsResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.reroute.ClusterRerouteRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.reroute.ClusterRerouteRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.reroute.ClusterRerouteResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.settings.ClusterUpdateSettingsRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.settings.ClusterUpdateSettingsRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.settings.ClusterUpdateSettingsResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.state.ClusterStateRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.state.ClusterStateRequestBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.action.admin.cluster.state.ClusterStateResponse;
/**
* Administrative actions/operations against indices.
*
* @see AdminClient#cluster()
*/
public interface ClusterAdminClient {
<Request extends ActionRequest, Response extends ActionResponse, RequestBuilder extends ActionRequestBuilder<Request, Response>> ActionFuture<Response> execute(final ClusterAction<Request, Response, RequestBuilder> action, final Request request);
<Request extends ActionRequest, Response extends ActionResponse, RequestBuilder extends ActionRequestBuilder<Request, Response>> void execute(final ClusterAction<Request, Response, RequestBuilder> action, final Request request, ActionListener<Response> listener);
<Request extends ActionRequest, Response extends ActionResponse, RequestBuilder extends ActionRequestBuilder<Request, Response>> RequestBuilder prepareExecute(final ClusterAction<Request, Response, RequestBuilder> action);
/**
* The health of the cluster.
*
* @param request The cluster state request
* @return The result future
* @see Requests#clusterHealthRequest(String...)
*/
ActionFuture<ClusterHealthResponse> health(ClusterHealthRequest request);
/**
* The health of the cluster.
*
* @param request The cluster state request
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see Requests#clusterHealthRequest(String...)
*/
void health(ClusterHealthRequest request, ActionListener<ClusterHealthResponse> listener);
/**
* The health of the cluster.
*/
ClusterHealthRequestBuilder prepareHealth(String... indices);
/**
* The state of the cluster.
*
* @param request The cluster state request.
* @return The result future
* @see Requests#clusterStateRequest()
*/
ActionFuture<ClusterStateResponse> state(ClusterStateRequest request);
/**
* The state of the cluster.
*
* @param request The cluster state request.
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see Requests#clusterStateRequest()
*/
void state(ClusterStateRequest request, ActionListener<ClusterStateResponse> listener);
/**
* The state of the cluster.
*/
ClusterStateRequestBuilder prepareState();
/**
* Updates settings in the cluster.
*/
ActionFuture<ClusterUpdateSettingsResponse> updateSettings(ClusterUpdateSettingsRequest request);
/**
* Update settings in the cluster.
*/
void updateSettings(ClusterUpdateSettingsRequest request, ActionListener<ClusterUpdateSettingsResponse> listener);
/**
* Update settings in the cluster.
*/
ClusterUpdateSettingsRequestBuilder prepareUpdateSettings();
/**
* Reroutes allocation of shards. Advance API.
*/
ActionFuture<ClusterRerouteResponse> reroute(ClusterRerouteRequest request);
/**
* Reroutes allocation of shards. Advance API.
*/
void reroute(ClusterRerouteRequest request, ActionListener<ClusterRerouteResponse> listener);
/**
* Update settings in the cluster.
*/
ClusterRerouteRequestBuilder prepareReroute();
/**
* Nodes info of the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes info request
* @return The result future
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesInfoRequest(String...)
*/
ActionFuture<NodesInfoResponse> nodesInfo(NodesInfoRequest request);
/**
* Nodes info of the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes info request
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesInfoRequest(String...)
*/
void nodesInfo(NodesInfoRequest request, ActionListener<NodesInfoResponse> listener);
/**
* Nodes info of the cluster.
*/
NodesInfoRequestBuilder prepareNodesInfo(String... nodesIds);
/**
* Nodes stats of the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes info request
* @return The result future
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesStatsRequest(String...)
*/
ActionFuture<NodesStatsResponse> nodesStats(NodesStatsRequest request);
/**
* Nodes stats of the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes info request
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesStatsRequest(String...)
*/
void nodesStats(NodesStatsRequest request, ActionListener<NodesStatsResponse> listener);
/**
* Nodes stats of the cluster.
*/
NodesStatsRequestBuilder prepareNodesStats(String... nodesIds);
/**
* Shutdown nodes in the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes shutdown request
* @return The result future
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesShutdownRequest(String...)
*/
ActionFuture<NodesShutdownResponse> nodesShutdown(NodesShutdownRequest request);
/**
* Shutdown nodes in the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes shutdown request
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesShutdownRequest(String...)
*/
void nodesShutdown(NodesShutdownRequest request, ActionListener<NodesShutdownResponse> listener);
/**
* Shutdown nodes in the cluster.
*/
NodesShutdownRequestBuilder prepareNodesShutdown(String... nodesIds);
/**
* Restarts nodes in the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes restart request
* @return The result future
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesRestartRequest(String...)
*/
ActionFuture<NodesRestartResponse> nodesRestart(NodesRestartRequest request);
/**
* Restarts nodes in the cluster.
*
* @param request The nodes restart request
* @param listener A listener to be notified with a result
* @see org.elasticsearch.client.Requests#nodesRestartRequest(String...)
*/
void nodesRestart(NodesRestartRequest request, ActionListener<NodesRestartResponse> listener);
/**
* Restarts nodes in the cluster.
*/
NodesRestartRequestBuilder prepareNodesRestart(String... nodesIds);
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: What did Industrial Designer propose in the discussion of industrial design?
Project Manager: Right w welcome to the the first meeting of uh Real Reaction's uh um development meetings for our our new television remote control. Uh this follows our very successful entry into the the consumer market over the last year or so um which we want to to build on, taking advantage of the uh the the latest developments in in technology and the uh the latest uh {vocalsound} uh feelings in in consumer design and and demand and uh we want to make this the the very best product th that's possible for everybody, uh one that everybody wants, uh at a good price for the consumer and at a good price for the company. Uh and to that end we need all to work together uh to do that. Um and uh b in no particular order because ev everybody is uh {vocalsound} just as vital to this project
Marketing: Mm.
Project Manager: um {vocalsound} I'll just go round th the table, Andrew, marketing, um m Kendra with the uh um {disfmarker} designing the the the User Interface uh uh and Kate with the the industrial design. Um. {vocalsound} What's uh {disfmarker} the the th th project is is here to do, is is to to get this this project up and moving, ev everybody is is free to uh say wh whatever they want, uh everybody has a contribution to make and uh {vocalsound} everybody feel free to interrupt me at any time to to say what you want to say. Um in in terms of the immediate meeting the uh um {gap} everybody knows everybody else, everybody's worked for the the company for a while, if if an anybody feels that they need to say more about themselves please do, if if if anybody wants to b briefly give their their background so that everybody's quite clear what everybody uh {disfmarker} uh everybody's experience is please do so. Uh in fact I'd I'd I'd welcome anybody to uh say something briefly about themselves, in fact we will do that by by going round the table quickly and and saying what what contribution you {disfmarker} you're looking to make. So we'll start with Andrew.
Marketing: Oh my name's Andrew I'm a {disfmarker} I'm the Market Research person for this uh for this meeting and this uh project for creating this new remote control and uh yeah I'll be uh presenting information statistics on what people want to want to uh get from this new design, what people want to {gap} like {disfmarker} and from a fashion point of view and the practicality point of view.
Project Manager: Right {vocalsound} Kendra.
User Interface: {vocalsound} I'm Kendra and I'm the Us User Interface Designer and um {vocalsound} I haven't had a whole lot of experience in this kind of thing before but I'm m so I'll be {vocalsound} working on the design.
Project Manager: Right at least means you haven't got any preconceived ideas so.
User Interface: Right. Yep, I'm just open to being creative.
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound} Uh I'm Katie,
Project Manager: Yep, good.
Industrial Designer: I'm the Industrial Designer and I'll just be I guess presenting about the the inter workings of our little remote control and uh {disfmarker} yeah.
Project Manager: Okay, very very quickly, um {vocalsound} this {disfmarker} I don't want to make this meeting too structured because the the whole idea is that it's a um you know a think tank. Everybody says what they {gap} what they want to say, uh and we don't want to be constrained by uh kind of convention or uh uh slides on screens or or anything else um but um briefly um th th this is what we want to do. The the remote control needs to be original, there has to be something about it that uh other remote controls don't have so that as soon as people see it they think um yes that's different, uh I want one, um and that goes along with being trendy, uh uh you know the I want it uh scenario. User-friendly as as we all know, remote controls can be uh uh very user-unfriendly so we want to make ours one that people can pick up
Marketing: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: and think oh yes that's {disfmarker} it's obvious how that works, uh and they also want to look at the price and think oh yeah that's something that {disfmarker} I may not need another remote control but uh it's such a nice one I'm gonna have one. And last but not least, or indeed first of all, it it must make the company money, and we make the company money by producing what the consumer wants. The uh the further work to be done is i the um the functional design, uh what it uh what it must actually do, the uh conceptual design, uh how we actually present that to the consumer and th the the detailed design i is uh how we get that into production. Uh now th the main design tool that we have available to us at the moment is is the white board and uh uh {vocalsound} let us very quickly do what i what it says in the in the in the prompt slide here, um {disfmarker} In fact I suggest to avoid everybody untangling themselves from the uh the the wires, that we don't do that, um So I I {disfmarker} everybody knows what whiteboard is so we'll um uh we'll do a virtual drawing on the on on the whiteboard of of your your own uh uh favourite animal, but le let's go round the table, your favourite animal.
Marketing: Um, badger. {vocalsound}
Project Manager: Mm and why?
Marketing: Uh it's it's got nice contrast with black {vocalsound} and white and uh {vocalsound}
Project Manager: Uh-huh.
Marketing: I feel they're {gap} underdog kind of status
Project Manager: Oh right
Marketing: and they're, the
Project Manager: uh my my wife says my beard looks like a badger's arse'cause of the the white streaks in it. {vocalsound}
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
User Interface: {vocalsound} Um probably a duck
Marketing: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: Kendra.
User Interface: I just {disfmarker} I li I like the way they look and they're just nice animals and I like how they can fly or swim or walk around or whatever.
Project Manager: Uh-huh. Right, okay.
Industrial Designer: Uh's horses, no particular reason why {vocalsound}.
Project Manager: Uh-huh, {gap} fair enough yeah.
User Interface: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: I'm not sure that I've got any favourite animal to be quite honest, I think homo sapien
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound} {vocalsound}
Project Manager: because of their {disfmarker} their uh overall ability to uh uh {disfmarker}
User Interface: {vocalsound}
Marketing: Make mobile phones and T_V_ remotes {vocalsound} {disfmarker}
Project Manager: Sorry?
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
Marketing: to make T_V_ remotes {vocalsound}.
Project Manager: Indeed absolutely yes,
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: tha that's um {disfmarker} Okay and uh w we need to keep in mind here that the uh {disfmarker} we want to sell this for for twenty five Euro um, we want to m make an overall profit for the the company of fifty million Euros so we're we're looking at selling a lot of these um ag across the the entire planet and and we're looking at a gross profit of fifty percent. {vocalsound} It needs to cost twelve Euros fifty to make. Um so we're not only looking at a a very trendy original product, we're looking at making it at a very good price. Um, okay, um {vocalsound} would anybody like t like to to start by giving their o um sort of quick views of of current remote controls.
User Interface: Well I think {disfmarker} I find a lot of them really complicated to use with all the different buttons and uh it's handiest when you have one that works both the D_V_D_ player or whatever and the T_V_ as well. Um, but that {disfmarker} it's easy to {gap} if you can switch back and forth instead of having to {vocalsound} press a bunch of different buttons
Project Manager: No.
User Interface: and {disfmarker} so I think it's is best when they're clearly labelled and you can see which buttons you're supposed to use, you know.
Project Manager: Any any thoughts about buttons or any oth other way of approaching the p the uh the problem? Or anybody else, strong feelings about remote controls? Are there you know, bad ones they've used or good ones they've used or ones that they've lost and never found again?
Industrial Designer: Um {disfmarker} {vocalsound} I think it's important that you should be able to {disfmarker} when you when you press the buttons it'll actually pick up the signals from kind of anywhere and you shouldn't have to like contort yourself and twist your remote control to get it {disfmarker} the T_V_ to actually pick up the signal.
Marketing: Yeah.
User Interface: Yeah.
Marketing: Think a lot of the time, remotes that come with T_V_ players and {gap} T_V_s and D_V_ players, like they aren't
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: like an area that's put a lot of effort into, they're very boring, very plain.
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: Like it's very {disfmarker} a very {disfmarker} like um making a a stylish remote control would be a very like {disfmarker} Easily put us one step ahead of the current competition.
Project Manager: Um what so wh what's in in {disfmarker} what particular style features are you thinking about?
Marketing: {vocalsound} Um. Something that looks looks {disfmarker} doesn't look like remote control.
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
Marketing: So if you want, {vocalsound} something that looks like uh {disfmarker} something that makes you think oh what's this? Like this pen doesn't really look like a pen,
Project Manager: Uh-huh.
Marketing: but it makes you think oh.
Project Manager: {gap}. Yeah
Marketing: So, sorry that's a bit vague {vocalsound}.
Project Manager: d no I mean do you think there's a risk if it doesn't look like remote control, {vocalsound} people won't see it as a remote control um and uh {disfmarker}
Marketing: Uh I suppose suppose that's up to the marketing to to make make people aware of the product.
Project Manager: Uh-huh. Any other thoughts about um th the physical appearance of a {disfmarker} of remote controls?
User Interface: I think something that's comfortable to hold because sometimes you get the remote controls that are just those big, rectangular things
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: Mm.
User Interface: and uh they're kind of awkward to hold onto,
Marketing: {vocalsound}
User Interface: so something that's more comfortable that fits in a person's hand better.
Project Manager: I mean th the thing that i immediately comes to mind is computer mouses which um I mean y you get all sorts of shapes in the shops
Industrial Designer: Mm.
User Interface: Yeah.
Marketing: Yeah.
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Project Manager: and s you know some quite fancy ones um than the {vocalsound} {disfmarker}
User Interface: Yeah.
Project Manager: some from personal experience which look nice
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: but {vocalsound} aren't particularly comfortable. Um {vocalsound} any thoughts about buttons or flat screens or uh uh {disfmarker}
User Interface: Yeah.
Marketing: Well from the mouse idea you could, {gap} remote is a piece of plastic with the big rubber buttons sticking out of it which you press, whereas if you want {gap} {disfmarker} could all be flat and the buttons are very kind of almost subtle that instead of being raised out of the device uh you push into device you see, like a mouse button.
Project Manager: Yes, I mean {vocalsound} the only thing is if if you're watching television in a in a a darkened room um you need to be able to uh
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: I suppose.
Project Manager: fi find the button buttons easily.
Marketing: Easily, yeah yeah.
User Interface: But maybe they could be concave instead of sticking up to have them {disfmarker} be kind of down so you could feel them
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: Mm.
User Interface: better.
Project Manager: Yeah, that's uh {disfmarker} must admit I don't think I've ever seen one with concave buttons, that's uh {disfmarker} certainly be different. Um do we need it to uh {disfmarker} I can't think of any re remote controls that I know of that actually light up at all.
User Interface: {vocalsound} Oh yeah.
Project Manager: Do we do we want uh {disfmarker}
Industrial Designer: Mm that would be good.
User Interface: Like a like a mobile phone?
Project Manager: Yeah.
Industrial Designer: Mm.
User Interface: Yeah.
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: Mm, yeah that would be good.
Project Manager: Okay. So, Andrew have you had any thoughts yet about how we might market something which there are already millions out there and that we want to uh uh uh t take over the entire um {disfmarker} the planet with?
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound}
User Interface: {vocalsound}
Marketing: Mm-hmm, um {vocalsound} especially if we try to sell, what two million of them. Oh sorry, four million of'em, but uh {disfmarker} I think if w if we market it as as not as not {disfmarker} well this {disfmarker} you c you could either market it as the point of view {disfmarker} we could have the two {disfmarker} we could have parallel marketing s schemes where you've got one where it appeals to people that want to have the new device that looks cool, is fashionable
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Marketing: and like you just {disfmarker} it's it's like uh it's one that rather than ra I wan I want rather than a kind of a need relationship with the device,
Project Manager: Mm-hmm.
Marketing: but that might {disfmarker} considering the act what the device is for and the nature of some people might not like respond to having a device that they just looks nice, therefore they want it so {disfmarker} make it practical at the same time. I think it's {disfmarker} this is gonna have to appeal to people that want device that can enhance their living room
Project Manager: Mm-hmm.
Marketing: uh but also a device that uh is practically sound.
Project Manager: Mm-hmm. Okay, yeah, yeah, well
Marketing: So um, I dunno we'll have to decide which which angle we're gonna go to or both. If you {gap}.
Project Manager: I d I think an any uh any facets that we identify w we aim {disfmarker} need to aim for for all of. Um okay well
Marketing: Mm. {vocalsound}
Project Manager: first thoughts on um the the industrial design side.
Industrial Designer: {vocalsound} Oh I think it's it's {disfmarker} remote controls are kind of a unique object'cause it's {disfmarker} you depend on them so much, but you don't {disfmarker} i i it's {disfmarker} you sort of just assume they're always gonna work, you don't think of them as a comp like a computer can break down and you're kinda like oh well fair enough there's all these complex things going on, it's gonna {disfmarker} something's gonna get messed up eventually. They they just need to be very very dependable because people sort of take them for granted and then if your remote control breaks it's {gap} {disfmarker} God forbid you actually get up and manually change the channel {vocalsound}
Project Manager: {vocalsound} Indeed.
User Interface: {vocalsound}
Marketing: {vocalsound}
Industrial Designer: it just {disfmarker} it needs to be very effective, very {disfmarker} always dependable. Uh I don't think we should make it too small I {disfmarker}'cause I think it needs to {gap} it can't be too big like you were saying big an and huge and um awkward, but also if you make it too small kinda like you know how mobile phones are getting smaller and smaller um, it's just gonna end up under a couch cushion somewhere and um yeah.
Project Manager: Yeah.
Industrial Designer: But {disfmarker} so yes dependable, and have a {gap} good medium range size.
Project Manager: Okay, and um colours, materials? Kendra, anyone?
User Interface: {vocalsound} Well, most {disfmarker} I think most of the remote controls now are either just black or grey,
Project Manager: {vocalsound} {gap}.
User Interface: so maybe we should go with something different or be able to {disfmarker} I was just thinking of um {vocalsound} what they're doing with mobile phones now how you can get the different um {disfmarker} what are they called? Like the face-plates
Project Manager: Yeah.
Industrial Designer: Mm, mm-hmm.
User Interface: that you change so we could have maybe {disfmarker} I don't know if it would be feasible to do something with that, where you can change the face-plates or have kind of a variety
Project Manager: Uh-huh.
User Interface: so people can get different different things. Have it kind of look how they want to, different colours, things like that,
Project Manager: Right.
User Interface: probably just plastic because that's always the lightest.
Project Manager: Yeah. Okay that's uh {disfmarker} Again I don't think that's ever been done before,
User Interface: {vocalsound}
Project Manager: it's uh the sort of {gap} the sort of thing that would get people uh thinking yes that's something that I haven't got and uh might need so. Uh Andrew, any thoughts about uh how we might market interchangeable fronts on on the remote control?
Marketing: Um, well we could either market it together by getting control in a set colour or with {disfmarker} like you buy it with several uh like you ge you get the f uh the face-plates with it when you buy or as a separate thing, but uh {vocalsound} maybe thinking of that, it's {disfmarker} considering the nature of the device, maybe a second thing {disfmarker} like a second campaign to market new facials for your {disfmarker} to your {disfmarker} might go a bit astray
Industrial Designer: Mm.
Project Manager: Yeah.
Marketing: since it is the kind of thing where y you generally get one and then forget about it.
Project Manager: Yeah.
Marketing: Unless you were trying to {disfmarker}
Project Manager: I think {disfmarker}
Industrial Designer: Well you could come up with like novelty ones, like they've done with the the mobile phones, you can get like different you know scenes from different movies and stuff on the remote control
Marketing: Mm.
User Interface: Yeah.
Marketing: {vocalsound} Oh
Industrial Designer: and sorta stagger the release of them
Marketing: it's {disfmarker} that's a that's a good idea.
Industrial Designer: and get people like oh I want that cover on it now and that'll keep them spending money.
User Interface: Yeah.
Project Manager: Mm-mm.
Marketing: Mm.
Project Manager: Right, okay
Marketing: Yeah true.
Project Manager: I think we've got um a good idea now. We uh {disfmarker} meeting is uh {disfmarker} Needs to be k uh wrapped up fairly quickly. So uh um we've got thirty minutes to start looking at the um at the design in more detail. Um then we'll we will reconvene in in thirty minutes and try to get some of these ideas uh uh more formalised. Uh thank you very much indeed.
Industrial Designer: Thank you.
User Interface: Okay.
Marketing: {vocalsound} {gap}.
Summary: Industrial Designer believed that remote controls should be made dependable and its size should be moderate since if it is too big, it can be awkward to hold, but if it is too small, it will be easy to get lost.
|
{
"task_name": "qmsum"
}
|
Passage: Jedi Master: What the Ranks Entail for Young Trainees
Youngling
A Youngling or Jedi Initiate is a Force-sensitive child raised in the Jedi Temple who receives basic instruction in the Force. The Force being a metaphysical entity, requires the practice of meditation and learning how to use the Force from early on in childhood. Jedi younglings undergo the Gathering on Ilum, where they find the kyber crystals needed to build their lightsabers.
Younglings who pass the Initiate Trials continue their training as Padawans.
The rank of Youngling only existed from about 1,000 BBY to 19 BBY. The practice of taking Force-sensitive children as infants was intended to keep Jedi away from attachments, which would prevent them from falling to the dark side of the Force . More »
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Great Singers Gone too Soon
Padawan
A Padawan or Jedi Apprentice is a young Jedi in training with a Jedi Knight or Master. In eras where the Youngling rank did not exist, Jedi trainees began at the rank of Apprentice.
When the Jedi Order was centralized, between 4,000 BBY and 19 BBY, the Master/Padawan relationship was formalized and had strict guidelines. Before and after, the process of training a Jedi was more informal; Jedi Knights and Masters had a greater choice in who they could train, could train more than one Padawan at a time, and declared their own students Knights when they were ready.
Padawan trainees would grow or wear a Padawan braid and train in a classroom setting with multiple other students and a teacher. After reaching a certain age, and being apprenticed to a Jedi Knight or Jedi Master to begin one-on-one training, Padawan apprentices went on missions to strengthen their skills in the ways of the Force. The Padawan braid is then cut off with a lightsaber when promoted to the rank of Knight. More »
Jedi Knight
A Jedi Knight has completed training as a Padawan and passed the Jedi Trials, or similarly proven his worthiness to become a Knight.
Most Jedi are Knights and remain so the rest of their lives. Jedi Knights serve the Jedi Order by going on missions and by training new apprentices to Knighthood. Unlike the ranks of Padawan and Youngling, the rank of Knight kept its name and meaning throughout the history of the Jedi Order. More »
Jedi Master
A Jedi Master is the highest formal rank in the Jedi Order. It is given to the most skilled Jedi after great accomplishments as a Jedi Knight, such as training several apprentices to Knighthood or performing a great service for the Republic.
Reserved for those who show exceptional devotion, skill, and balance in the ways of the Force (not to mention often combat), only those holding this rank and title may sit on the Jedi High Council (with the exception of Anakin Skywalker and a select few others) or any of the three other councils.
Because the title of Master was so prestigious, some Jedi Knights — particularly in the early Jedi Order — declared themselves Jedi Masters. This was discouraged, as wisdom in the Force, not just success in battle, is necessary to become a Jedi Master. More »
Non-Ranking Jedi
Jedi in the Service Corps branches, such as the Agricultural Corps , are generally Jedi trainees who failed one of their trials. Although Jedi Knights or Masters could work with the Service Corps, most of their members did not have one of the four Jedi ranks.
Question: In the Star Wars universe, what rank falls between Padawan and Jedi Master?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Jedi Knights', 'Jedi Knight (disambiguation)', 'Jedi Knights (disambiguation)', 'Jedi Knight'], 'normalized_aliases': ['jedi knight disambiguation', 'jedi knights', 'jedi knights disambiguation', 'jedi knight'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'jedi knight', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'Jedi Knight'}
Passage: How to Fish for Alligator Gar: 15 Steps (with Pictures) - wikiHow
How to Fish for Alligator Gar
Three Parts: Finding Alligator Gar Fishing for Gar Fighting the Gar Community Q&A
The Alligator Gar is one serious fish. If you're interested in testing your mettle against a 100 pound, prehistoric-looking creature, and have access to the turbid slow moving waters of the lower Mississippi River drainage area, the Alligator Gar may be just the fish for you. Here are some tips for trying this toothy giant on for size.
Steps
Finding Alligator Gar
1
Head to the American South. The gar thrives in the Mississippi river basin, from Southern Ohio and Illinois to the Gulf of Mexico. Mostly found in the freshwater bodies of Texas, Alabama, Louisiana, and Arkansas, the alligator gar is a distinctively Southern fish. As with many things, the biggest are generally found in Texas.
The Henderson Swamp west of Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Lake Pontchartrain, north of New Orleans, are populated with Alligator Gars.
So are the Pearl and Pascagoula River in Mississippi, the Mobile, Tensaw, Tennessee, and Tombigbee Rivers in Alabama, and the Escambia, Choctawhatchee, and Apalachicola Rivers in the Florida panhandle.
Texas rivers such as the Colorado, Trinity, Guadalupe, Sabine, and other main channels are most frequented and have the largest record gars to date, as well as the largest known populations of alligator gar.
2
Find a slough or backwater. A "dead lake" is a lake that is inundated by an adjacent river when the water is high, but is landlocked when the river is at normal level, and this is the perfect kind of place to fish for gar. Secure permission to fish this water, and whatever licenses are required in the jurisdiction you are fishing in.
You will need to have access to fish your choice of locations, so if there is no bank access, you may have to secure a boat.
3
Learn to spot the 'gator gar. The alligator gar is just one species of gar, a long-nosed, sharp-toothed, distinctively prehistoric fish. They can weigh over 250 lbs and can survive up to two hours above water. The gator is the largest species of gar, and is the largest exclusively freshwater fish in North America. It can be as long as eight to ten feet, and the current world record for the largest alligator gar caught on rod and reel is 279lb 0oz. The largest taken by Bowfishing is 365lb. [1]
If the gar's snout is more than twice the length of its head, and is no more than a few inches wide, it's probably a longnose gar.
Florida gars and spotted gars have shorter snouts and are covered with distinctive, brownish spots.
The alligator gar--your target--is the largest of these fish. It has a broader nose than the long nose, with two rows of teeth where the other gar have one. It can be quite large.
4
Know when and where to look. The gar spawns in brackish waters in spring, around April, but the best time for hunting them is in late summer, when it is hot and dry.
In July and August, alligator gar can be found in deep river bends adjacent to relatively shallow pools. The deep water is where the gar congregate, and the shallow water will allow you to spot them more easily when they come up to feed.
Part 2
Fishing for Gar
1
Make sure your rig is up to the task. If you're going to try to hook a fish that weighs up to 250 pounds and has dozens of sharp, needle-like teeth, you're going to want more than a branch and bobber. Bring a stiff composite rod with strong test line. This is the kind of fish you'll want to bring up to the surface, so using a bobber for your bait is appropriate.
It's best to have a large open-faced or spinning reel capable of hold 150–200 yards (137.2–182.9 m) of 30-100 pound test mono-filament line. A stiff-actioned graphite or composite rod, six or eight feet long is appropriate for this size of fish.
2
For line, you'll want two-three feet of steel leader, and 40-80 pound test line.
Hook bait onto a 6/0 treble hook and use a 1/4 oz. slip sinker, with split shot sinker to keep it above the hook. [2]
Plastic or cork bobber (float), capable of keeping your bait and rig suspended near the water's surface.
3
Bring a good-sized live bait. Some people in the lower delta waters near the Gulf Coast prefer 10–12 inch (25.4–30.5 cm) mullet, and often suggest removing the scales before using them, but any legal baitfish, such as shiners, shad, or suckers are on the gar's menu.
Carp, buffalo, and large perch are also commonly used.
4
Watch for schooling baitfish, like shad, shiners, or freshwater mullet. When you spot a school of fish breaking the water as if they are being herded by a hungry carnivore, you are probably in gar country. Rig your bait, and cast.
5
Cast into the deep part of the channel. Leave the spool open to allow the gar to take the bait and run with it for a few clicks. Keep your eye on the float. When it begins to torpedo across the top of the water, or when it dives towards the depths, you know you've got a gar on the line. Lower your rod toward it, and wait at least seven seconds after the line pulls tight.
The gar swims with its food before attempting to eat it. If you try to set the hook to early, you'll risk jostling it loose or hooking the gar in a less-than-optimum spot.
6
Set the hook. The alligator gar has a hard, bony plate in its mouth, which is the reason fishermen prefer treble hooks, and considerable force is needed to penetrate it. To ensure that you set the hook in the soft, secure part of the gar's mouth, you may have to set it a few times. Since you've let as much as a few hundred yards of line spool out, this may take considerable strength and a few pulls.
When you've got your hook set, it's time to settle in for a big wrestling match.
Part 3
Fighting the Gar
1
Assess the fish when you feel the tension on your line. Very large fish will require a substantial fight to land, and you may find it necessary to adjust your drag to wear it down. Try to keep the fish steered away from logs, brush, or other snags to keep him from becoming tangled, where you will almost certainly lose him.
2
Fight your fish until it is exhausted. Bring it in a bit at a time, letting the gar wear itself out. Don't expend more energy than necessary bringing it in quickly. Never try to force even a smaller gar into the boat while it still has fight left in it. The alligator gar has been known to bite aggressively in self defense. For very large gar, it may be best to gill gaff them, so that the head (and teeth) can be steered away from occupants of the boat before bringing it aboard.
A gill gaff is basically a pole with a sharp hook on the end, for snaring large fish beside the boat. Generally, a partner will hook the fish through the gills and under the backbone, probably wounding the fish mortally. If you want to hook a gar and release it, don't do this.
3
Be extremely careful if you choose to release your catch. Generally, fishermen don't recommend fishing for gar unless you intend to kill them. Bringing a live gar into the boat, or onto the shore, is extremely dangerous. Removing a treble hook from a mouth full of needle like teeth requires a very long-nosed pair of pliers. Make sure the fish is beyond exhausted, and that you're wearing protective arm and hand gear if you attempt this.
Cutting the line will leave the treble hook embedded in the fish's mouth, leaving it little chance of survival.
The alligator gar and many other freshwater predators are increasingly endangered. The best preservation policy with these fish is catch and release, so at least be aware of the difficulties of doing so if you want to hunt gar responsibly.
4
Consider creative alternatives. Many southerners will tell you the preferred method of fishing for alligator gars is actually bowfishing, using a compound hunting bow and fishing arrows. Bow-fishing is much more exciting to many, as it combines fishing and hunting.
Some fishermen will likewise bring along a .22 to finish off the gar when it gets close to the boat. Be extremely careful and make sure that you're licensed if you're going to fish with hunting gear.
5
Consider taking your gar home for dinner. Generally, the gar is a trophy fish, given its size and fierce look. It is an edible (some say tasty) fish, but quite difficult to clean. The scales are armor-like and all come off together, though, so it comes off with the right technique.
Nail the gar's head to a blank and work a knife from the tail up the backbone, loosening the scales. Cut the head and tail off, and then work your knife down the sides of the fish. The scales should come up like a crust around the flesh underneath. Gut the fish as you would any other.
Community Q&A
If this question (or a similar one) is answered twice in this section, please click here to let us know.
Video
Tips
When bringing the gar into a boat or on land, do not grab the gar by his snout because his teeth stick out the side of his mouth, so that if he thrashes he can easily cut your hand.
Give serious consideration to hiring a guide for your first trip fishing for these fish. The time a guide will save, as well as the safety considerations should make your trip much more enjoyable.
There are stories (somewhat substantiated) of Alligator Gars biting feet that are dangled in the water off of piers and riverbanks.
Warnings
Respect the teeth of this fish, never stick a hand, even with leather gloves, into its mouth.
Things You'll Need
Question: Used in place of a net, what is the name for the pole with a sharp hook on the end of it used to boat large fish?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Gaff (disambiguation)', 'Gaff'], 'normalized_aliases': ['gaff disambiguation', 'gaff'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'gaff', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'Gaff'}
Passage: Sumo and the martial arts, Leisure, Study of a cultural group: Japan, HSIE Year 6, NSW | Online Education Home Schooling Skwirk Australia
In this chapter:
Sumo wrestling is Japan's national sport and it is the oldest sport
Sumo wrestling has developed from a ritual to honour the Shinto gods into the competitive sport that it is today
The practices that made a bout a Shinto ritual have remained with sumo wrestling matches and are still a part of the sport today
Martial arts are learnt by most schoolchildren in Japan
Martial arts are a way of defending oneself. A huge component of the practice involves the training of the mind and not just the body
Most of the martial arts are unarmed. There are, however, arts specific to the use of a sword and bow
Sumo
Sumo wrestling is the national sport of Japan. Sumo, which began around 200AD, is probably Japan's oldest sport. The first sumo tournaments were held at Shinto shrines. The original referees were Shinto priests. Wrestling tournaments were a ritual. The bouts were dedicated to Shinto gods praying for things like a good harvest. Later on, rules were introduced to sumo bouts, and with rules, techniques were developed. See Image 1
There is a ceremony before every fight. These ceremonies usually last longer than the fight. One ritual that is performed prior to a fight is sprinkling salt. In Japan, salt is part of a purification ritual. The wrestlers throw handfuls of salt into the ring, several times, before a match starts.
The fighting ring is about 4.6 metres in diameter. In Japan, sumo wrestlers are called rikishi. Sumo wrestlers can weigh up to 150 kilograms. 800 sumo wrestlers take part in six tournaments every year. Each tournament lasts15 days. Tickets for these tournaments sell very quickly, but they are also shown on television. Tournaments take place every two months. They are held in four of Japan's cities: Tokyo, Nagoya, Osaka and Fukuoka. See Image 2
The winner of a sumo match is the wrestler who either throws his opponent out of the ring, or throws them to the ground. It is rare for a fight to go on longer than over a minute, they are usually over in seconds. There is a hierarchy of sumo wrestlers, with the top position being yokozuna, grand champion. This title cannot be lost. If a wrestler who is a yokozuna begins to lose, he is expected to retire. Wrestlers are trained athletes who abide by a very strict regime. In order to gain weight they go to bed straight after eating. They live in special sumo wrestling places were they improve their skills and live the life that is appropriate to being a wrestler.
Martial arts
The martial arts in Japan are sports that were developed from the skills of the samurai. Most schoolchildren learn at least one of the martial arts. Martial arts are a form of self-defence. There are two martial arts that use a weapon. One uses a sword and the other a bow. The remaining forms are unarmed combats. Practice of each martial art begins with meditation, which is done to focus.
Karate, the way of the empty hand
Karate is an art of defence that uses fists, elbows and feet. Performances are either done alone, with a group, or as a fight. A fighter or group of fighters perform their skills in front of judges, this is kata. Kumite is a fight between two people. This is a mock fight, however, The fighters will stop just before they make contact with their opponent's body.
Judo, the way of gentleness
Judo was developed from another martial art in the nineteenth century. Professor Jigoeo Kano developed Judo from the ancient martial art called jujutsu. Judo is about training your body and spirit, as well as winning fights. In judo it is technique, not stamina and strength, which are important.
Aikido, the way of spiritual harmony
This marital art is defined by the concept that a person with very little strength can beat an opponent. Aikido students aim to achieve spiritual harmony. The training of the mind is as important as the body.
Kendo, the way of the sword
Swords have been used in combat in Japan for many years. The ancient samurai used them as their primary weapon. Today a person practising Kendo would use a bamboo sword. This is a method used to protect those practising the martial art. Again, as in all the martial arts, the training of the mind is equally as important as training of the body. See animation 1
Kyodo, the way of the bow
This is Japanese archery. A bow was also a weapon of the samurai, like the sword. In ancient times this was also used for hunting. This is a popular practice in Japan that takes place in a special place called a kyudojo. These facilities are found in recreational centres and schools. Kyodo requires a bow of about two metres long. The targets are stationary and set at either 28 or 60 metres away. Training the mind, as in the other martial arts, is very important, however in Kyodo the most important aspect is the ritual before each shot. See Image 3
See animation 2
Question: As part of a purification ritual, what is it that sumo wrestlers throw in the ring before they engage in combat?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Salt crystal', 'Salt refining', 'Table Salt', 'Table salt', 'Dietary salt', 'Kitchen salt', 'Edible salt', 'Salt (compound)', 'Salt production', 'Salt', 'Refining salt', 'Salt crystals', 'Normal salt', 'Salt (food)', 'Refined salt', 'Manufacture of salt', 'Common salt', 'Sodium salt', 'Saltmaking'], 'normalized_aliases': ['salt compound', 'salt production', 'salt crystal', 'salt food', 'salt crystals', 'refined salt', 'saltmaking', 'table salt', 'edible salt', 'salt refining', 'sodium salt', 'kitchen salt', 'refining salt', 'manufacture of salt', 'normal salt', 'salt', 'common salt', 'dietary salt'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'salt', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'Salt'}
Passage: Highlander (1986) - IMDb
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An immortal Scottish swordsman must confront the last of his immortal opponent, a murderously brutal barbarian who lusts for the fabled "Prize".
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In the future, Highlander Connor MacLeod must prevent the destruction of Earth under an anti-ozone shield.
Director: Russell Mulcahy
Deceived that he had won the Prize, Connor MacLeod awakens from a peaceful life when an entombed immortal magician comes seeking the Highlander.
Director: Andrew Morahan
Immortals Connor and Duncan MacLeod must join forces against Kell, an evil immortal who has become too strong for anyone to face alone.
Director: Douglas Aarniokoski
Duncan MacLeod is Immortal, and must live in modern society, concealing his true nature while fighting other Immortals.
Stars: Adrian Paul, Stan Kirsch, Jim Byrnes
A vengeful barbarian warrior sets off to avenge his tribe and his parents whom were slain by an evil sorcerer and his warriors when he was a boy.
Director: John Milius
When Robin and his Moorish companion come to England and the tyranny of the Sheriff of Nottingham, he decides to fight back as an outlaw.
Director: Kevin Reynolds
Edit
Storyline
In New York, the owner of a sophisticated antique shop Russell Edwin Nash is challenged to a sword fight in the parking lot of the Madison Square Garden by a man called Iman Fasil that is beheaded by Russell. He hides his sword and is arrested by the police while leaving the stadium. Russell recalls his life in the Sixteenth Century in Scotland, when he is Connor MacLeod and is deadly wounded in a battle against another Clan. However he surprisingly survives and his Clan believes he has a pact with the devil and expels him from their lands. Then he meets Juan Sanchez Villa-Lobos Ramirez that explains that he is immortal unless he is beheaded. Further, the immortals dispute a game killing each other and in the end only one survives receiving a price with the power of the other immortals. Russell is released by the police, but the snoopy forensic agent Brenda J. Wyatt is attracted by the case since she founds fragments of an ancient Katana and follows Russell. But the also immortal ... Written by Claudio Carvalho, Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
There can be only one. See more »
Genres:
Rated R for strong action violence, a scene of sexuality and some language | See all certifications »
Parents Guide:
7 March 1986 (USA) See more »
Also Known As:
Did You Know?
Trivia
The low flying aircraft in the final scene was a Sepecat Jaguar T2 belonging to 226 Operational Conversion Unit based at R.A.F. Lossiemouth. This unit is incorrectly listed in the final credits as the "Jaguar Fighter Wing, R.A.F. Lossiemouth." The Jaguar is actually a ground attack aircraft and not a fighter. 226 O.C.U. was a training unit used to train pilots to fly the Jaguar. See more »
Goofs
When the Kurgan and Brenda look at the Silvercup building from the bridge, the sign says "Silvercup Studios." When MacLeod and the Kurgan fight on top of the building, the sign simply says "Silvercup." See more »
Quotes
Ramirez : Greetings.
[Connor and Heather look baffled]
Ramirez : I am Juan Sánchez Villalobos Ramírez, Chief metallurgist to King Charles V of Spain. And I'm at your service.
(Chicago, IL) – See all my reviews
The first time I saw this movie I knew it was going to be a lifelong favorite. With all the years that have gone by since then, and the repeated viewings I have given it, The Highlander still remains one of the best pieces of film I have ever seen. There are enough fight scenes to satisfy the most adamant of action movie fans, and there is an incredibly touching scene with Lambert and Beatie Edney (Heather) when she is dying of old age, Connor is still youthful in appearance, and the Queen song "Who Wants To Live Forever" is playing in the background. It still brings tears to my eyes when I see Connor in modern day New York lighting a candle for her on her birthday. The swordplay is extremely well choreographed and the sets are remarkable. To be fair, the special effects are not what I would consider up to the standards of the day, however the writing and acting is more than enough to make up for it. If you want to see a movie that doesn't NEED special effects to make it worth watching, this is one for you.
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Question: What was the name of the Scottish clan featured in the TV show and movies Highlander?
Answer: {'aliases': ['McLeod', 'MacLeod', 'Macleod', 'Mcleod'], 'normalized_aliases': ['macleod', 'mcleod'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'macleod', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'MacLeod'}
Passage: Hotels chains - picking the right one and how to become a loyal guest - Gadling
by Scott Carmichael on
Jul 2, 2009
Welcome to the Gadling hotel month! There is no better time of the year to learn more about hotels, how to pick the right hotel and how to become loyal to one chain. In today’s article, I’m going to teach you as much as I can about picking the right brand and how to become (and stay) loyal to one chain. Before we continue, let me explain something really simple about the hotels:
The world is made up of 3 different kinds of hotels:
Chain hotels that are part of a large hotel group
Chain hotels with just one brand
Stand alone hotels, B&B’s and any other property not part of a group
We’ll start with chain hotels that are part of a large hotel group – you’ll find some of their logo’s printed above. These are the leaders of the hotel world (sure, I may have missed a couple), but the bottom line is that a handful of companies own and/or operate a huge amount of the hotels in the world. There are some pretty big advantages to each sort of hotel operation, and when you pick the right one, you’ll increase your chance of having an enjoyable stay.
Chain hotels that are part of a large hotel group
Chain hotels are the ones you are most likely to come across when searching for a hotel. Chain hotels are the Starwoods and Hyatts of the world. These chains have been around for years, and the largest of them operate as many as 3000 properties.
Of course, none of these companies own every single one of their locations, but they do provide marketing, booking systems and branding for anyone who meets their standards and would prefer owning a branded hotel over just another “hotel”.
The most important reason to pick a hotel that is part of a large chain is simple – consistency. Granted, a Hyatt in Spain may not look exactly the same as a US Hyatt, but the hotel will be held to the same standards as its US counterpart. Picking a consistent hotel is great if you want to feel a little more at home. There is something oddly comforting about driving through a weird city, then arriving at your favorite hotel brand. Outside may look, smell and sound different, but inside the hotel, its all vaguely familiar and reassuring.
The largest multi-brand hotel chains in the world are:
Starwood – operates the Sheraton, W Hotels, Aloft, Four Points, Le Meridien, Westin, Element and Luxury Collection properties
Hilton – operates the Hilton, Conrad, Doubletree, Embassy Suites, Hilton Garden Inn, Hampton, Homewood Suites, Home2 Suites, and Waldorf Astoria properties
Hyatt – operates the Grand Hyatt, Hyatt Regency, Park Hyatt, Hyatt Resorts, Andaz, Hyatt Place, Hyatt Summerfield Suites and Hyatt Vacation Club properties.
Marriott – operates the Marriott Hotels & Resorts, JW Marriott Hotels & Resorts, Renaissance Hotels, Courtyard, Residence Inn, Fairfield Inn, TownePlace Suites, SpringHill Suite and Marriott Vacation Club properties
Choice Hotels International – operates the Comfort Inn, Comfort Suites, Quality Inn, Sleep Inn, Clarion, Cambria Suites, MainStay Suites, Suburban, Econolodge and Rodeway Inn properties
Wyndham Worldwide – operates the Wyndham hotels, Ramada, Days Inn, Super 8, Wingate, Baymont Inn, Microtel, Hawthorn Suites, Howard Johnson, Travelodge and Knights Inn properties
Intercontinental Hotel Group – operates the Intercontinental hotels, Crowne Plaza, Hotel Indigo, Holiday Inn, Holiday Inn Express, Staybridge Suites and Candlewood Suites properties
Carlson – operates the Radisson, Park Plaza, Country Inns and Suites and Park Inn properties
Kimpton hotels – operates the Hotel Palomar, Hotel Monaco hotels as well as a variety of Kimpton boutique properties
These chains offer something in almost every price range – take for example the hotels that are part of the Intercontinental Hotel Group. This chain can offer you a $300/night room in their Intercontinental hotel, or a $59/night room at a Candlewood Suites. The hotel you pick will depend on the level of comfort you want, the amenities you desire and of course, your budget. Whichever way you go, this one hotel chain will have 7 different hotel brands to pick from, often with up to 30 or 40 properties within a 50 mile radius.
Hotel brands offer more variation than just price and comfort. The hot trend in the hotel world is offering lifestyle hotels. Most chains have opened, or are working on opening at least one brand of hotels focusing on a younger, hipper guest.
Starwood has been quite successful in this segment with their Aloft hotels . This spinoff from their (equally successful) W brand offers rooms in a modern environment – you won’t find the old worn carpet at these destinations. A similar brand is being developed by Starwood with a focus on extended stays – their Element hotels are a spin-off from the Westin brand, and offer rooms with a focus on healthy living. 6 Element hotels are already open, with another 20 opening in the coming years.
A good example of another new hotel brand is the Cambria Suites concept which we reviewed here on Gadling . This hotel clearly shows how a hotel operator designed a new brand, and built a fantastic hotel around it.
A great benefit of a chain with multiple brands is the ability to earn and redeem points within the chain. If you are a frequent guest at an affordable Hilton property, you can save up all those points, and redeem them for some free nights at a Conrad. Turning cheap stays into free stays at a really expensive property is a fantastic perk.
Here are the pros and cons of picking a large hotel chain with multiple brands:
PROS:
Ability to earn points/free stays within the various brands
Easy booking system for multiple brands on a single booking site
CONS:
Consistency tends to become boring for frequent guests
Prices are often higher than local unbranded options
Chain hotels with just one brand
Single brand hotel chains are owned and/or operated by just one company. Instead of offering multiple brands, they focus on one famous name, and all hotels adhere to that name and the standards set by the brand.
Best Western is a good example of this – they operate over 4000 different hotels, in 80 countries. Unlike the chain hotels mentioned previously, Best Western does this under just one name (technically they also offer several upscale properties called Best Western Premier).
The largest / most popular single-brand hotel chains in the world are:
Best Western
La Quinta Inns and Suites
Four Seasons
Here are the pros and cons of picking a large hotel chain with multiple brands:
PROS:
Ability to earn points/free stays within the brand
Amenities and services are usually very consistent from hotel to hotel
CONS:
Often large differences in quality between various properties
Despite similar amenities and services, prices can fluctuate greatly between locations
Stand alone hotels, B&B and any other property not part of a group
The third and final segment of the hotel industry is the stand alone hotel. These hotels usually operate just one or two hotels under their name, and are not part of a chain or other “mother brand”. These properties vary from a 2 bedroom B&B to a 1500 monstrosity in a busy downtown area.
Stand alone hotels can often be a much more enjoyable place to stay as you don’t have to deal with corporate rules. That said – smaller chains don’t have the support and technology often found within larger chain hotels. Investments in new technology are not as common, especially in the booking and reservation systems.
Here are the pros and cons of picking a single hotel or a very small chain:
PROS:
Hotels often offer a more comforting environment, without the busy branding of a large chain
Properties can often be more personal for frequent guests
CONS:
Frequent guest programs are only available at one property making it harder to earn points/free stays
Booking systems are often primitive or hotels do not participate in large third-party booking engines like Expedia or Hotels.com
Picking the right hotel is not too hard – if you just need a hotel for your yearly trip, your most important factor is going to be availability, amenities and budget. A vacation hotel won’t be better or worse for you if it is part of a larger chain. If you are a more regular traveler, then it really does start to pay to pay attention to your brand loyalty.
With generous bonus awards and perhaps an affinity credit card, you could be on your way to a free stay after just 4 or 5 nights. I recommend signing up for every program you can, and trying to avoid staying at a hotel without being part of the frequent guest program. Even if you never stay with them again, adding your membership number to your reservation will save you the hassle of having to request the points after your stay.
If you are traveling for work, be sure to pick a hotel chain committed to offering the services and amenities you need – don’t settle for a chain that has the balls to charge for Internet access.
If you start to stay at a chain on any regular basis, you’ll slowly start to see the rewards of that loyalty. Besides the obvious stay bonus, you may be eligible for a room on a “preferred floor”, and you may even get access to the hotel lounge. To burst your bubble and dreams of the hotel penthouse – a real valued guest is someone who’ll stay with the hotel chain over 75 nights a year.
That entry level silver or gold card is going to be generally useless. Before you move all your dollars to one chain, do the math and check whether it is going to be worth aiming for the top tier. If you only have 10 nights planned all year, the platinum or diamond tier is going to be way out of your reach.
Once you do hit a high(er) tier, it may be time to shop around for a new chain. When I traveled for work, I was top tier with 3 hotel chains, but when one of them screwed up (badly), I decided to see whether brand X was interested in my business. As it turns out, they were, and a quick fax of my statement with hotel brand Y got my status “comped”, as well as some other perks that made it worth my while to switch my business.
Bottom line is that you should pick a hotel that makes you feel welcomed – if you don’t like the vibe of a specific hotel brand or chain, find something that fits your style. With so many new hotel concepts, it isn’t too hard to find the style that fits you best. You no longer have to settle for a boring room with a flower pattern comforter and a loud window mounted AC unit.
Question: What large hospitality chain owns and operates the mid-priced Courtyard hotel chain?
Answer: {'aliases': ['Marriott', 'Marriot', 'Marriott (disambiguation)'], 'normalized_aliases': ['marriot', 'marriott', 'marriott disambiguation'], 'matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_matched_wiki_entity_name': '', 'normalized_value': 'marriott', 'type': 'WikipediaEntity', 'value': 'Marriott'}
|
{
"task_name": "trivia_qa"
}
|
# Copyright 2012 IBM Corp.
#
# Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License"); you may
# not use this file except in compliance with the License. You may obtain
# a copy of the License at
#
# http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
#
# Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
# distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT
# WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied. See the
# License for the specific language governing permissions and limitations
# under the License.
import datetime
from lxml import etree
import webob
from nova.api.openstack.compute.contrib import availability_zone
from nova.api.openstack.compute import servers
from nova.api.openstack import extensions
from nova import availability_zones
from nova.compute import api as compute_api
from nova.compute import flavors
from nova import context
from nova import db
from nova.openstack.common import jsonutils
from nova import servicegroup
from nova import test
from nova.tests.api.openstack import fakes
from nova.tests import fake_instance
from nova.tests.image import fake
from nova.tests import matchers
from nova.tests.objects import test_service
FAKE_UUID = fakes.FAKE_UUID
def fake_service_get_all(context, disabled=None):
def __fake_service(binary, availability_zone,
created_at, updated_at, host, disabled):
return dict(test_service.fake_service,
binary=binary,
availability_zone=availability_zone,
available_zones=availability_zone,
created_at=created_at,
updated_at=updated_at,
host=host,
disabled=disabled)
if disabled:
return [__fake_service("nova-compute", "zone-2",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 14, 9, 53, 25, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25, 0),
"fake_host-1", True),
__fake_service("nova-scheduler", "internal",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 14, 9, 57, 3, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25, 0),
"fake_host-1", True),
__fake_service("nova-network", "internal",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 16, 7, 25, 46, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 24, 0),
"fake_host-2", True)]
else:
return [__fake_service("nova-compute", "zone-1",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 14, 9, 53, 25, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25, 0),
"fake_host-1", False),
__fake_service("nova-sched", "internal",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 14, 9, 57, 3, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25, 0),
"fake_host-1", False),
__fake_service("nova-network", "internal",
datetime.datetime(2012, 11, 16, 7, 25, 46, 0),
datetime.datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 24, 0),
"fake_host-2", False)]
def fake_service_is_up(self, service):
return service['binary'] != u"nova-network"
def fake_set_availability_zones(context, services):
return services
def fake_get_availability_zones(context):
return ['nova'], []
class AvailabilityZoneApiTest(test.NoDBTestCase):
def setUp(self):
super(AvailabilityZoneApiTest, self).setUp()
availability_zones.reset_cache()
self.stubs.Set(db, 'service_get_all', fake_service_get_all)
self.stubs.Set(availability_zones, 'set_availability_zones',
fake_set_availability_zones)
self.stubs.Set(servicegroup.API, 'service_is_up', fake_service_is_up)
def test_filtered_availability_zones(self):
az = availability_zone.AvailabilityZoneController()
zones = ['zone1', 'internal']
expected = [{'zoneName': 'zone1',
'zoneState': {'available': True},
"hosts": None}]
result = az._get_filtered_availability_zones(zones, True)
self.assertEqual(result, expected)
expected = [{'zoneName': 'zone1',
'zoneState': {'available': False},
"hosts": None}]
result = az._get_filtered_availability_zones(zones, False)
self.assertEqual(result, expected)
def test_availability_zone_index(self):
req = webob.Request.blank('/v2/fake/os-availability-zone')
resp = req.get_response(fakes.wsgi_app())
self.assertEqual(resp.status_int, 200)
resp_dict = jsonutils.loads(resp.body)
self.assertIn('availabilityZoneInfo', resp_dict)
zones = resp_dict['availabilityZoneInfo']
self.assertEqual(len(zones), 2)
self.assertEqual(zones[0]['zoneName'], u'zone-1')
self.assertTrue(zones[0]['zoneState']['available'])
self.assertIsNone(zones[0]['hosts'])
self.assertEqual(zones[1]['zoneName'], u'zone-2')
self.assertFalse(zones[1]['zoneState']['available'])
self.assertIsNone(zones[1]['hosts'])
def test_availability_zone_detail(self):
def _formatZone(zone_dict):
result = []
# Zone tree view item
result.append({'zoneName': zone_dict['zoneName'],
'zoneState': u'available'
if zone_dict['zoneState']['available'] else
u'not available'})
if zone_dict['hosts'] is not None:
for (host, services) in zone_dict['hosts'].items():
# Host tree view item
result.append({'zoneName': u'|- %s' % host,
'zoneState': u''})
for (svc, state) in services.items():
# Service tree view item
result.append({'zoneName': u'| |- %s' % svc,
'zoneState': u'%s %s %s' % (
'enabled' if state['active'] else
'disabled',
':-)' if state['available'] else
'XXX',
jsonutils.to_primitive(
state['updated_at']))})
return result
def _assertZone(zone, name, status):
self.assertEqual(zone['zoneName'], name)
self.assertEqual(zone['zoneState'], status)
availabilityZone = availability_zone.AvailabilityZoneController()
req = webob.Request.blank('/v2/fake/os-availability-zone/detail')
req.method = 'GET'
req.environ['nova.context'] = context.get_admin_context()
resp_dict = availabilityZone.detail(req)
self.assertIn('availabilityZoneInfo', resp_dict)
zones = resp_dict['availabilityZoneInfo']
self.assertEqual(len(zones), 3)
''' availabilityZoneInfo field content in response body:
[{'zoneName': 'zone-1',
'zoneState': {'available': True},
'hosts': {'fake_host-1': {
'nova-compute': {'active': True, 'available': True,
'updated_at': datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25)}}}},
{'zoneName': 'internal',
'zoneState': {'available': True},
'hosts': {'fake_host-1': {
'nova-sched': {'active': True, 'available': True,
'updated_at': datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25)}},
'fake_host-2': {
'nova-network': {'active': True, 'available': False,
'updated_at': datetime(2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 24)}}}},
{'zoneName': 'zone-2',
'zoneState': {'available': False},
'hosts': None}]
'''
l0 = [u'zone-1', u'available']
l1 = [u'|- fake_host-1', u'']
l2 = [u'| |- nova-compute', u'enabled :-) 2012-12-26T14:45:25.000000']
l3 = [u'internal', u'available']
l4 = [u'|- fake_host-1', u'']
l5 = [u'| |- nova-sched', u'enabled :-) 2012-12-26T14:45:25.000000']
l6 = [u'|- fake_host-2', u'']
l7 = [u'| |- nova-network', u'enabled XXX 2012-12-26T14:45:24.000000']
l8 = [u'zone-2', u'not available']
z0 = _formatZone(zones[0])
z1 = _formatZone(zones[1])
z2 = _formatZone(zones[2])
self.assertEqual(len(z0), 3)
self.assertEqual(len(z1), 5)
self.assertEqual(len(z2), 1)
_assertZone(z0[0], l0[0], l0[1])
_assertZone(z0[1], l1[0], l1[1])
_assertZone(z0[2], l2[0], l2[1])
_assertZone(z1[0], l3[0], l3[1])
_assertZone(z1[1], l4[0], l4[1])
_assertZone(z1[2], l5[0], l5[1])
_assertZone(z1[3], l6[0], l6[1])
_assertZone(z1[4], l7[0], l7[1])
_assertZone(z2[0], l8[0], l8[1])
def test_availability_zone_detail_no_services(self):
expected_response = {'availabilityZoneInfo':
[{'zoneState': {'available': True},
'hosts': {},
'zoneName': 'nova'}]}
self.stubs.Set(availability_zones, 'get_availability_zones',
fake_get_availability_zones)
availabilityZone = availability_zone.AvailabilityZoneController()
req = webob.Request.blank('/v2/fake/os-availability-zone/detail')
req.method = 'GET'
req.environ['nova.context'] = context.get_admin_context()
resp_dict = availabilityZone.detail(req)
self.assertThat(resp_dict,
matchers.DictMatches(expected_response))
class ServersControllerCreateTest(test.TestCase):
def setUp(self):
"""Shared implementation for tests below that create instance."""
super(ServersControllerCreateTest, self).setUp()
self.flags(verbose=True,
enable_instance_password=True)
self.instance_cache_num = 0
self.ext_mgr = extensions.ExtensionManager()
self.ext_mgr.extensions = {}
self.controller = servers.Controller(self.ext_mgr)
def instance_create(context, inst):
inst_type = flavors.get_flavor_by_flavor_id(3)
image_uuid = '76fa36fc-c930-4bf3-8c8a-ea2a2420deb6'
def_image_ref = 'http://localhost/images/%s' % image_uuid
self.instance_cache_num += 1
instance = fake_instance.fake_db_instance(**{
'id': self.instance_cache_num,
'display_name': inst['display_name'] or 'test',
'uuid': FAKE_UUID,
'instance_type': dict(inst_type),
'access_ip_v4': '1.2.3.4',
'access_ip_v6': 'fead::1234',
'image_ref': inst.get('image_ref', def_image_ref),
'user_id': 'fake',
'project_id': 'fake',
'reservation_id': inst['reservation_id'],
"created_at": datetime.datetime(2010, 10, 10, 12, 0, 0),
"updated_at": datetime.datetime(2010, 11, 11, 11, 0, 0),
"progress": 0,
"fixed_ips": [],
"task_state": "",
"vm_state": "",
"root_device_name": inst.get('root_device_name', 'vda'),
})
return instance
fake.stub_out_image_service(self.stubs)
self.stubs.Set(db, 'instance_create', instance_create)
def _test_create_extra(self, params):
image_uuid = 'c905cedb-7281-47e4-8a62-f26bc5fc4c77'
server = dict(name='server_test', imageRef=image_uuid, flavorRef=2)
server.update(params)
body = dict(server=server)
req = fakes.HTTPRequest.blank('/v2/fake/servers')
req.method = 'POST'
req.body = jsonutils.dumps(body)
req.headers["content-type"] = "application/json"
server = self.controller.create(req, body=body).obj['server']
def test_create_instance_with_availability_zone_disabled(self):
availability_zone = [{'availability_zone': 'foo'}]
params = {'availability_zone': availability_zone}
old_create = compute_api.API.create
def create(*args, **kwargs):
self.assertIsNone(kwargs['availability_zone'])
return old_create(*args, **kwargs)
self.stubs.Set(compute_api.API, 'create', create)
self._test_create_extra(params)
def test_create_instance_with_availability_zone(self):
self.ext_mgr.extensions = {'os-availability-zone': 'fake'}
def create(*args, **kwargs):
self.assertIn('availability_zone', kwargs)
self.assertEqual('nova', kwargs['availability_zone'])
return old_create(*args, **kwargs)
old_create = compute_api.API.create
self.stubs.Set(compute_api.API, 'create', create)
image_href = '76fa36fc-c930-4bf3-8c8a-ea2a2420deb6'
flavor_ref = 'http://localhost/v2/fake/flavors/3'
body = {
'server': {
'name': 'config_drive_test',
'imageRef': image_href,
'flavorRef': flavor_ref,
'metadata': {
'hello': 'world',
'open': 'stack',
},
'availability_zone': 'nova',
},
}
req = fakes.HTTPRequest.blank('/v2/fake/servers')
req.method = 'POST'
req.body = jsonutils.dumps(body)
req.headers["content-type"] = "application/json"
admin_context = context.get_admin_context()
db.service_create(admin_context, {'host': 'host1_zones',
'binary': "nova-compute",
'topic': 'compute',
'report_count': 0})
agg = db.aggregate_create(admin_context,
{'name': 'agg1'}, {'availability_zone': 'nova'})
db.aggregate_host_add(admin_context, agg['id'], 'host1_zones')
res = self.controller.create(req, body=body).obj
server = res['server']
self.assertEqual(fakes.FAKE_UUID, server['id'])
def test_create_instance_without_availability_zone(self):
self.ext_mgr.extensions = {'os-availability-zone': 'fake'}
image_href = '76fa36fc-c930-4bf3-8c8a-ea2a2420deb6'
flavor_ref = 'http://localhost/v2/fake/flavors/3'
body = {
'server': {
'name': 'config_drive_test',
'imageRef': image_href,
'flavorRef': flavor_ref,
'metadata': {
'hello': 'world',
'open': 'stack',
},
},
}
req = fakes.HTTPRequest.blank('/v2/fake/servers')
req.method = 'POST'
req.body = jsonutils.dumps(body)
req.headers["content-type"] = "application/json"
res = self.controller.create(req, body=body).obj
server = res['server']
self.assertEqual(fakes.FAKE_UUID, server['id'])
class AvailabilityZoneSerializerTest(test.NoDBTestCase):
def test_availability_zone_index_detail_serializer(self):
def _verify_zone(zone_dict, tree):
self.assertEqual(tree.tag, 'availabilityZone')
self.assertEqual(zone_dict['zoneName'], tree.get('name'))
self.assertEqual(str(zone_dict['zoneState']['available']),
tree[0].get('available'))
for _idx, host_child in enumerate(tree[1]):
self.assertIn(host_child.get('name'), zone_dict['hosts'])
svcs = zone_dict['hosts'][host_child.get('name')]
for _idx, svc_child in enumerate(host_child[0]):
self.assertIn(svc_child.get('name'), svcs)
svc = svcs[svc_child.get('name')]
self.assertEqual(len(svc_child), 1)
self.assertEqual(str(svc['available']),
svc_child[0].get('available'))
self.assertEqual(str(svc['active']),
svc_child[0].get('active'))
self.assertEqual(str(svc['updated_at']),
svc_child[0].get('updated_at'))
serializer = availability_zone.AvailabilityZonesTemplate()
raw_availability_zones = \
[{'zoneName': 'zone-1',
'zoneState': {'available': True},
'hosts': {'fake_host-1': {
'nova-compute': {'active': True, 'available': True,
'updated_at':
datetime.datetime(
2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25)}}}},
{'zoneName': 'internal',
'zoneState': {'available': True},
'hosts': {'fake_host-1': {
'nova-sched': {'active': True, 'available': True,
'updated_at':
datetime.datetime(
2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 25)}},
'fake_host-2': {
'nova-network': {'active': True,
'available': False,
'updated_at':
datetime.datetime(
2012, 12, 26, 14, 45, 24)}}}},
{'zoneName': 'zone-2',
'zoneState': {'available': False},
'hosts': None}]
text = serializer.serialize(
dict(availabilityZoneInfo=raw_availability_zones))
tree = etree.fromstring(text)
self.assertEqual('availabilityZones', tree.tag)
self.assertEqual(len(raw_availability_zones), len(tree))
for idx, child in enumerate(tree):
_verify_zone(raw_availability_zones[idx], child)
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/**
* Licensed to Neo Technology under one or more contributor
* license agreements. See the NOTICE file distributed with
* this work for additional information regarding copyright
* ownership. Neo Technology licenses this file to you under
* the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License"); you may
* not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing,
* software distributed under the License is distributed on an
* "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY
* KIND, either express or implied. See the License for the
* specific language governing permissions and limitations
* under the License.
*/
package org.neo4j.jdbc.rest;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.Collection;
import java.util.Collections;
import java.util.Iterator;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.logging.Level;
import org.codehaus.jackson.JsonNode;
import org.codehaus.jackson.JsonParser;
import org.codehaus.jackson.JsonToken;
import org.codehaus.jackson.map.ObjectMapper;
import org.codehaus.jackson.node.ObjectNode;
import org.codehaus.jackson.type.TypeReference;
import org.restlet.Client;
import org.restlet.Context;
import org.restlet.data.ChallengeScheme;
import org.restlet.data.CharacterSet;
import org.restlet.data.ClientInfo;
import org.restlet.data.MediaType;
import org.restlet.data.Parameter;
import org.restlet.data.Preference;
import org.restlet.data.Reference;
import org.restlet.data.Status;
import org.restlet.representation.Representation;
import org.restlet.representation.Variant;
import org.restlet.resource.ClientResource;
import org.restlet.util.Series;
import static java.util.Arrays.asList;
/**
* @author mh
* @since 12.06.12
*/
public class Resources
{
private final Client client;
private static ObjectMapper mapper = new ObjectMapper();
private final Reference ref;
private String user;
private String password;
private final String userAgent;
public Resources( String url, Client client, String userAgent )
{
this.client = client;
this.userAgent = userAgent;
ref = new Reference( new Reference( url ), "/" );
}
private static void configureClient( Context context, ClientInfo clientInfo )
{
context.getLogger().setLevel( Level.WARNING );
clientInfo.setAcceptedMediaTypes( streamingJson() );
clientInfo.setAcceptedCharacterSets( charsetUtf8() );
}
static Representation toRepresentation( ObjectNode requestData, ClientResource requestResource )
{
try
{
final String jsonString = toString( requestData );
final Variant variant = new Variant( MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON );
variant.setCharacterSet( CharacterSet.UTF_8 );
Representation representation = requestResource.toRepresentation( jsonString, variant );
representation.setCharacterSet( CharacterSet.UTF_8 );
return representation;
} catch (IOException ioe) {
throw new RuntimeException( "Cant convert to representation with UTF-8" , ioe);
}
}
private static String toString( Object value )
{
if ( value == null )
{
return null;
}
return value.toString();
}
private Context createContext()
{
Context context = new Context();
context.setClientDispatcher( client );
return context;
}
public void setAuth( String user, String password )
{
this.user = user;
this.password = password;
}
public DiscoveryClientResource getDiscoveryResource() throws IOException
{
DiscoveryClientResource discovery = withAuth( new DiscoveryClientResource( createContext(), ref, userAgent ) );
discovery.readInformation();
return discovery;
}
<T extends ClientResource> T withAuth( T resource )
{
if ( hasAuth() )
{
resource.setChallengeResponse( ChallengeScheme.HTTP_BASIC, user, password );
}
return resource;
}
private boolean hasAuth()
{
return user != null && password != null;
}
public ClientResource getCypherResource( String cypherPath )
{
return withAuth( new CypherClientResource( new Context(), cypherPath, mapper, userAgent ) );
}
public TransactionClientResource getTransactionResource( String transactionPath )
{
return withAuth( new TransactionClientResource( new Context(), transactionPath, userAgent ) );
}
public TransactionClientResource getTransactionResource( Reference transactionPath )
{
return withAuth( new TransactionClientResource( new Context(), transactionPath, userAgent ) );
}
public JsonNode readJsonFrom( String uri )
{
try
{
Context context = createContext();
ClientResource resource = withAuth( new ClientResource( context, uri ) );
configureClient( context, resource.getClientInfo() );
return mapper.readTree( resource.get().getReader() );
}
catch ( IOException ioe )
{
throw new RuntimeException( "Error reading data from URI " + uri );
}
}
private String textField( JsonNode node, String field )
{
final JsonNode fieldNode = node.get( field );
if ( fieldNode == null )
{
return null;
}
return fieldNode.getTextValue();
}
public static abstract class Neo4jClientResource extends ClientResource
{
public Neo4jClientResource( Context context, Reference ref, String userAgent )
{
super( context, ref );
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
getClientInfo().setAgent( userAgent );
}
public Neo4jClientResource( Context context, String uri, String userAgent )
{
super(context, uri);
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
getClientInfo().setAgent( userAgent );
}
@Override
public final Representation toRepresentation( Object source, Variant target ) throws IOException
{
target.setCharacterSet( CharacterSet.UTF_8 );
Representation representation = super.toRepresentation( source, target );
representation.setCharacterSet( CharacterSet.UTF_8 );
return representation;
}
}
public class DiscoveryClientResource extends Neo4jClientResource
{
private String version;
private String cypherPath;
private String transactionPath;
private String dataUri;
private String labelPath;
private String relationshipTypesPath;
private String propertyKeysPath;
public DiscoveryClientResource( Context context, Reference ref, String userAgent )
{
super(context, ref, userAgent);
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
}
public String getVersion()
{
return version;
}
public void readInformation() throws IOException
{
// Get service root
JsonNode discoveryInfo = mapper.readTree( get().getReader() );
dataUri = textField( discoveryInfo, "data" );
JsonNode serverData = readJsonFrom( dataUri );
version = textField( serverData, "neo4j_version" );
cypherPath = obtainCypherPath( serverData );
labelPath = serverData.get("node_labels").asText(); // /db/data/labels
relationshipTypesPath = serverData.get( "relationship_types" ).asText(); // /db/data/relationship/types
propertyKeysPath = dataUri + "propertykeys"; // serverData.get("property_keys").asText(); //
// /db/data/relationship/types
transactionPath = textField( serverData, "transaction" );
if ( transactionPath == null && (version.startsWith( "2" ) || version.equals( "1.9.M02-1083-g0593b83" )) )
{
transactionPath = dataUri + "transaction";
}
}
private String obtainCypherPath( JsonNode serverData )
{
String cypherPath = textField( serverData, "cypher" );
if ( cypherPath == null )
{
final JsonNode extensions = serverData.get( "extensions" );
if ( extensions != null )
{
final JsonNode plugin = extensions.get( "CypherPlugin" );
if ( plugin != null )
{
cypherPath = textField( plugin, "execute_query" );
}
}
}
return cypherPath;
}
public String getCypherPath()
{
return cypherPath;
}
public Collection<String> getLabels()
{
return readListFrom( labelPath );
}
public Collection<String> getRelationshipTypes()
{
return readListFrom( relationshipTypesPath );
}
public Collection<String> getPropertyKeys()
{
return readListFrom( propertyKeysPath );
}
private Collection<String> readListFrom( String uri )
{
Iterator<JsonNode> it = readJsonFrom( uri ).getElements();
List<String> result = new ArrayList<>();
while ( it.hasNext() )
{
result.add( it.next().asText() );
}
return result;
}
public String getTransactionPath()
{
return transactionPath;
}
}
private static class CypherClientResource extends Neo4jClientResource
{
private final ObjectMapper mapper;
public CypherClientResource( final Context context, String cypherPath, ObjectMapper mapper, String userAgent )
{
super( context, cypherPath, userAgent );
this.mapper = mapper;
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
}
@Override
public void doError( Status errorStatus )
{
try
{
JsonNode node = mapper.readTree( getResponse().getEntity().getReader() );
JsonNode message = node.get( "message" );
if ( message != null )
{
super.doError( new Status( errorStatus.getCode(), message.toString(), message.toString(),
errorStatus.getUri() ) );
}
}
catch ( IOException e )
{
// Ignore
}
super.doError( errorStatus );
}
}
public TransactionClientResource subResource( TransactionClientResource res, String segment )
{
return withAuth( res.subResource( segment ) );
}
public static class TransactionClientResource extends Neo4jClientResource
{
private final String userAgent;
public TransactionClientResource( final Context context, String path, String userAgent )
{
super( context, path, userAgent );
this.userAgent = userAgent;
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
}
public TransactionClientResource( final Context context, Reference path, String userAgent )
{
super( context, path, userAgent );
this.userAgent = userAgent;
configureClient( context, getClientInfo() );
}
public TransactionClientResource subResource( String segment )
{
return new TransactionClientResource( getContext(), getReference().clone().addSegment( segment ), userAgent );
}
@Override
public void doError( Status errorStatus )
{
String errors = getResponse().getEntityAsText();
if ( errors == null || !errors.isEmpty() )
{
super.doError( new Status( errorStatus.getCode(), "Error executing statement", errors,
errorStatus.getUri() ) );
}
super.doError( errorStatus );
}
private Collection<Object> findErrors( JsonParser parser ) throws IOException
{
parser.nextToken(); // todo, parser can be anywhere should return to top-level first?
if ( "results".equals( parser.getCurrentName() ) )
{
parser.skipChildren();
parser.nextToken();
}
List<Object> errors = Collections.emptyList();
if ( "errors".equals( parser.getCurrentName() ) )
{
if ( JsonToken.START_ARRAY == parser.nextToken() )
{
errors = parser.readValueAs( new TypeReference<Object>()
{
} );
}
}
return errors;
}
}
private static List<Preference<CharacterSet>> charsetUtf8()
{
return asList ( new Preference<>( CharacterSet.UTF_8 ));
}
private static List<Preference<MediaType>> streamingJson()
{
final MediaType mediaType = streamingJsonType();
return Collections.singletonList( new Preference<MediaType>( mediaType ) );
}
private static MediaType streamingJsonType()
{
final Series<Parameter> parameters = new Series<Parameter>( Parameter.class );
parameters.add( "stream", "true" );
return new MediaType( MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON.getName(), parameters );
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
Copyright (c) 2016 Denis Zykov, GameDevWare.com
This a part of "Json & MessagePack Serialization" Unity Asset - https://www.assetstore.unity3d.com/#!/content/59918
THIS SOFTWARE IS DISTRIBUTED "AS-IS" WITHOUT ANY WARRANTIES, CONDITIONS AND
REPRESENTATIONS WHETHER EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING WITHOUT LIMITATION THE
IMPLIED WARRANTIES AND CONDITIONS OF MERCHANTABILITY, MERCHANTABLE QUALITY,
FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE, DURABILITY, NON-INFRINGEMENT, PERFORMANCE
AND THOSE ARISING BY STATUTE OR FROM CUSTOM OR USAGE OF TRADE OR COURSE OF DEALING.
This source code is distributed via Unity Asset Store,
to use it in your project you should accept Terms of Service and EULA
https://unity3d.com/ru/legal/as_terms
*/
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.Diagnostics;
using System.Linq;
using System.Linq.Expressions;
using System.Reflection;
using System.Reflection.Emit;
// ReSharper disable once CheckNamespace
namespace GameDevWare.Serialization.Metadata
{
internal static class GettersAndSetters
{
#if !NET_STANDARD_2_0
private static readonly bool AotRuntime;
private static readonly Dictionary<MemberInfo, Func<object, object>> ReadFunctions;
private static readonly Dictionary<MemberInfo, Action<object, object>> WriteFunctions;
private static readonly Dictionary<MemberInfo, Func<object>> ConstructorFunctions;
#endif
#if !NET_STANDARD_2_0
static GettersAndSetters()
{
#if ((UNITY_WEBGL || UNITY_IOS || ENABLE_IL2CPP) && !UNITY_EDITOR)
AotRuntime = true;
#else
try { Expression.Lambda<Func<bool>>(Expression.Constant(true)).Compile(); }
catch (Exception) { AotRuntime = true; }
#endif
ReadFunctions = new Dictionary<MemberInfo, Func<object, object>>();
WriteFunctions = new Dictionary<MemberInfo, Action<object, object>>();
ConstructorFunctions = new Dictionary<MemberInfo, Func<object>>();
}
#endif
public static bool TryGetAssessors(MethodInfo getMethod, MethodInfo setMethod, out Func<object, object> getFn, out Action<object, object> setFn)
{
getFn = null;
setFn = null;
#if NET_STANDARD_2_0
return false;
#else
if (AotRuntime)
return false;
if (getMethod != null && !getMethod.IsStatic && getMethod.GetParameters().Length == 0)
{
lock (ReadFunctions)
{
if (ReadFunctions.TryGetValue(getMethod, out getFn) == false)
{
var instanceParam = Expression.Parameter(typeof(object), "instance");
var declaringType = getMethod.DeclaringType;
Debug.Assert(declaringType != null, "getMethodDeclaringType != null");
getFn = Expression.Lambda<Func<object, object>>(
Expression.Convert(
Expression.Call(
Expression.Convert(instanceParam, declaringType), getMethod),
typeof(object)),
instanceParam
).Compile();
ReadFunctions.Add(getMethod, getFn);
}
}
}
if (setMethod != null && !setMethod.IsStatic && setMethod.GetParameters().Length == 1 && setMethod.DeclaringType != null && setMethod.DeclaringType.IsValueType == false)
{
lock (WriteFunctions)
{
if (WriteFunctions.TryGetValue(setMethod, out setFn) == false)
{
var declaringType = setMethod.DeclaringType;
var valueParameter = setMethod.GetParameters().Single();
Debug.Assert(declaringType != null, "getMethodDeclaringType != null");
var setDynamicMethod = new DynamicMethod(declaringType.FullName + "::" + setMethod.Name, typeof(void), new Type[] { typeof(object), typeof(object) }, restrictedSkipVisibility: true);
var il = setDynamicMethod.GetILGenerator();
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ldarg_0); // instance
il.Emit(OpCodes.Castclass, declaringType);
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ldarg_1); // value
if (valueParameter.ParameterType.IsValueType)
il.Emit(OpCodes.Unbox_Any, valueParameter.ParameterType);
else
il.Emit(OpCodes.Castclass, valueParameter.ParameterType);
il.Emit(OpCodes.Callvirt, setMethod); // call instance.Set(value)
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ret);
setFn = (Action<object, object>)setDynamicMethod.CreateDelegate(typeof(Action<object, object>));
WriteFunctions.Add(setMethod, setFn);
}
}
}
return true;
#endif
}
public static bool TryGetAssessors(FieldInfo fieldInfo, out Func<object, object> getFn, out Action<object, object> setFn)
{
getFn = null;
setFn = null;
#if NET_STANDARD_2_0
return false;
#else
if (AotRuntime || fieldInfo.IsStatic)
return false;
lock (ReadFunctions)
{
if (ReadFunctions.TryGetValue(fieldInfo, out getFn) == false)
{
var instanceParam = Expression.Parameter(typeof(object), "instance");
var declaringType = fieldInfo.DeclaringType;
Debug.Assert(declaringType != null, "getMethodDeclaringType != null");
getFn = Expression.Lambda<Func<object, object>>(
Expression.Convert(
Expression.Field(
Expression.Convert(instanceParam, declaringType),
fieldInfo),
typeof(object)),
instanceParam
).Compile();
ReadFunctions.Add(fieldInfo, getFn);
}
}
if (fieldInfo.IsInitOnly == false && fieldInfo.DeclaringType != null && fieldInfo.DeclaringType.IsValueType == false)
{
lock (WriteFunctions)
{
if (WriteFunctions.TryGetValue(fieldInfo, out setFn) == false)
{
var declaringType = fieldInfo.DeclaringType;
var fieldType = fieldInfo.FieldType;
Debug.Assert(declaringType != null, "getMethodDeclaringType != null");
var setDynamicMethod = new DynamicMethod(declaringType.FullName + "::" + fieldInfo.Name, typeof(void), new Type[] { typeof(object), typeof(object) }, restrictedSkipVisibility: true);
var il = setDynamicMethod.GetILGenerator();
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ldarg_0); // instance
il.Emit(OpCodes.Castclass, declaringType);
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ldarg_1); // value
if (fieldType.IsValueType)
il.Emit(OpCodes.Unbox_Any, fieldType);
else
il.Emit(OpCodes.Castclass, fieldType);
il.Emit(OpCodes.Stfld, fieldInfo); // call instance.Set(value)
il.Emit(OpCodes.Ret);
setFn = (Action<object, object>)setDynamicMethod.CreateDelegate(typeof(Action<object, object>));
WriteFunctions.Add(fieldInfo, setFn);
}
}
}
return true;
#endif
}
public static bool TryGetConstructor(Type type, out Func<object> ctrFn)
{
if (type == null) throw new ArgumentNullException("type");
ctrFn = null;
#if NET_STANDARD_2_0
return false;
#else
if (AotRuntime || type.IsAbstract || type.IsInterface)
return false;
var defaultCtr = type.GetConstructors(BindingFlags.Instance | BindingFlags.Public | BindingFlags.NonPublic).FirstOrDefault(ctr => ctr.GetParameters().Length == 0);
if (defaultCtr == null)
return false;
lock (ConstructorFunctions)
{
if (ConstructorFunctions.TryGetValue(type, out ctrFn))
return true;
ctrFn = Expression.Lambda<Func<object>>(
Expression.Convert(
Expression.New(defaultCtr),
typeof(object))
).Compile();
ConstructorFunctions.Add(type, ctrFn);
}
return true;
#endif
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Groupe de femmes
Groupe de femmes, also called Groupe de trois femmes, or Groupe de trois personnages, is an early Cubist sculpture created circa 1911 by the Hungarian avant-garde, sculptor, and graphic artist Joseph Csaky (1888–1971). This sculpture formerly known from a black and white photograph (Galerie René Reichard) had been erroneously entitled "Deux Femmes (Two Women)", as the image captured on an angle showed only two figures. An additional photograph found in the Csaky family archives shows a frontal view of the work, revealing three figures rather than two. Csaky's sculpture was exhibited at the 1912 Salon d'Automne, and the 1913 Salon des Indépendants, Paris. A photograph taken of Salle XI "in sitiu" at the 1912 Salon d'Automne and published in "L'Illustration", 12 October 1912, p. 47, shows "Groupe de femmes" exhibited alongside the works of Jean Metzinger, František Kupka, Francis Picabia, Amedeo Modigliani and Henri Le Fauconnier.
Passage 2:
Fiafed
FIAFED (French: Filles d'aujourd'hui, Femmes de demain; "Girls of today, women of tomorrow"), founded June 16, 2000 by Irène Maloba Kayembe, is a non-governmental organization based in the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The organisation's goals consist of bringing free education, affordable health care and job training to thousands of families living in several remote villages in the Democratic Republic of the Congo.
Passage 3:
Femmes d’Aujourd’hui
Femmes d’Aujourd’hui (meaning "Women of Today" in English) is a French language weekly women's magazine published in Mechelen, Belgium. Founded in 1933, it is one of the oldest magazines in the country and the first Belgian women's magazine.
Passage 4:
Ornament and Crime
Ornament and Crime was an essay and a lecture by modernist architect Adolf Loos, that criticizes ornament in art, first given on 21 January 1908 in Vienna and first published in "Cahiers d'aujourd'hui" (issue 5 of 1910) under the German title "Ornament und Verbrechen". It was under this challenging title that in 1913 the essay was translated into French; it was not published in German until 1929. "The evolution of culture marches with the elimination of ornament from useful objects", Loos proclaimed, linking the optimistic sense of the linear and upward progress of cultures with the contemporary vogue for applying evolution to cultural contexts. Loos' work was prompted by regulations Loos encountered when he designed a tailorshop without ornamentation next to a palace. He eventually conceded to requirements by adding a flowerpot.
Passage 5:
Olivier Boissiere
Olivier Boissiere (Olivier Boissière, born in 1939) is a French writer and commentator of contemporary art and architecture. His profiles, comments, features and interviews have been published in international magazines such as Domus, Abitare, L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui and Vogue Paris. Boissiere is the author of several books about the works of Jean Nouvel, Frank Gehry, Le Corbusier, Ron Arad and Philippe Starck. He has been on Jean Nouvel's team more than ten years and still serves as an advisor and consultant to different architecture projects such as the recent winning entry of the team Sou Fujimoto+Manal Rachdi for the "Reinventer Paris" competition.
Passage 6:
Ariel Moscovici
Ariel Moscovici (born 1956, Bucharest, Romania) is a sculptor born in Romania and based in France. His drawings and sculptures have appeared in France at Salons de Mai, Grands et Jeunes d'aujourd'hui, Salon des Réalités Nouvelles, 33rd Salon de la Jeune Sculpture, 3Oth Salon de Montrouge, and others. Internationally, his work has been the subject of exhibits and installations in Andorra, Spain, Belgium, Germany, Luxembourg, Korea, Taiwan and Japan. Moscovici works have been awarded first prize at the Biennale Internationale de Sculpture Contemporaine, Collioure and purchase awards from the Taipei Fine Arts Museum in Taiwan. Moscovici's public art work "Between Sky and Earth", was installed at Taipei 101 in 2003.
Passage 7:
Lewis Baltz
Lewis Baltz (September 12, 1945 – November 22, 2014) was a visual artist and photographer who became an important figure in the New Topographics movement of the late 1970s. His work has been published in a number of books, presented in numerous exhibitions, and appeared in museums such as the Museum of Modern Art, Paris, Museum of Contemporary Art, Helsinki, San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and The Whitney Museum of American Art, New York. He wrote for many journals, and contributed regularly to "L'Architecture d'Aujourd'hui".
Passage 8:
Janus (science fiction magazine)
Janus was a feminist science fiction fanzine edited by Janice Bogstad and Jeanne Gomoll in Madison, Wisconsin, and closely associated with that city's science fiction convention, WisCon (Several early WisCon program books doubled as special issues of "Janus".) It was repeatedly nominated for the Hugo Award for Best Fanzine (1978, 1979 and 1980); this led to accusations that if "Janus" had not been feminist, it wouldn't have been nominated. Eighteen issues were published under this name from 1975–1980; it was succeeded by "Aurora SF" ("Aurora Speculative Feminism").
Passage 9:
Femmes d'aujourd'hui
Femmes d'aujourd'hui is the second studio album by Jeanne Mas, released in April 1986 by Pathé Marconi. Music for 8 of the 10 tracks was written by Romano Musumarra. The French singer Daniel Balavoine also participated in the production of the album (including "Cœur en stéréo"). Charting from 3 May 1986, it peaked at #1 for two months on the French Albums Chart and featured for 63 weeks in the top 30, most of them in the top ten. It was certified Platinum disc and remains Mas' most successful album to date in terms of sales and chart performance.
Passage 10:
En rouge et noir
"En Rouge et Noir" is a 1986 French single recorded by Jeanne Mas, from her album "Femmes d'aujourd'hui". It achieved a great success in France, topping the chart during 1986 summer. At present, it is undoubtedly the most known song of this artist.
Question: Which written work was published in Belgium, Femmes d’Aujourd’hui or Janus?
Answer: Femmes d’Aujourd’hui
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
Passage 1:
Scott Murdoch
Scott McKenzie Murdoch( born 27 February 1969) was a Scottish footballer who played' senior' for Clydebank, Dumbarton and Albion Rovers.
Passage 2:
Chris Boyle (footballer)
Christopher Thomas" Chris" Boyle( born 10 June 1982) is a Scottish footballer who played for Kilmarnock, Dumbarton and Albion Rovers.
Passage 3:
Hugh Goldie (footballer, born 1923)
Hugh Goldie( born 14 December 1923) was a Scottish footballer who played for Dumbarton, Raith Rovers, Ayr United and Albion Rovers.
Passage 4:
Alliott Verdon Roe
Sir Edwin Alliott Verdon Roe OBE, Hon. FRAeS, FIAS( 26 April 1877 – 4 January 1958) was a pioneer English pilot and aircraft manufacturer, and founder in 1910 of the Avro company. After experimenting with model aeroplanes, he made flight trials in 1907– 08 with a full- size aeroplane at Brooklands, near Weybridge in Surrey, and became the first Englishman to fly an all- British machine a year later, with a triplane, on the Walthamstow Marshes.
Passage 5:
Tommy Walker (footballer, born 1964)
Thomas" Tommy" Walker( born 23 December 1964) was a Scottish footballer who played for Ayr United, Dumbarton, Stranraer and Albion Rovers.
Passage 6:
Danny Ferry (footballer)
Daniel Ferry( born 31 January 1977) is a Scottish footballer who played' senior' for Queen's Park, Dumbarton and Albion Rovers.
Passage 7:
Andy McQuade (footballer)
William Andrew McQuade( born 27 August 1959) is a Scottish former footballer, who played for Hamilton Academical, Dumbarton and Albion Rovers.
Passage 8:
Bobby Verdon-Roe
Bobby Verdon-Roe (born 21 November 1965 in Winchester, Hampshire) is a British professional racing driver who has raced in various formats of motor sport throughout his career. He has won Formula Renault, TVR Tuscan and Historic Formula One Championships. He is the grandson of Sir Alliott Verdon Roe who was a pioneer of British aviation and founder of the Avro aircraft company. He was educated at Ashdown House and Stowe School having been brought up in Portugal.
Passage 9:
Albion A. Perry
Albion Atwood Perry( January 26, 1851 – February 1933) was an American politician who served on the water board, school committee, on both branches of the Somerville city council and as the ninth Mayor, of Somerville, Massachusetts.
Passage 10:
Gustavus Green
Gustavus Green( 11 March 1865 – 29 December 1964) was a British engineer who made significant contributions to the design of early aircraft engines. He was born in Hounslow on 11 March 1865. He opened a bicycle factory in Bexhill- on- Sea, and in 1905 he built his first lightweight, water- cooled aircraft engine. He established the Green Engine Co. to produce them. Green engines were much used by pioneers of British aviation like Alliott Verdon Roe and Samuel Cody. But his later engines were too heavy for the aircraft of the time. They were used to power torpedo boats during World War I. In 1909, Green was awarded a £ 1,000 prize by the British government for his work on aero engines, and he was awarded another prize of £ 5,000 in 1914. After World War II, Green became involved in the development of the' flexible deck' concept for aircraft carriers. His ideas for such a deck culminated in the successful landing of a de Havilland Sea Vampire, flown by Eric" Winkle" Brown, on an experimental rubber deck installed on HMS" Warrior". Green became an honorary companion of the Royal Aeronautical Society in 1958. He died in December 1964 at his home in Twickenham, only a few months before what would have been his 100th birthday.
Question: Are Alliott Verdon Roe and Albion A. Perry of the same nationality?
Answer: no
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
Bill Smith (footballer, born 1897)
William Thomas Smith( born 9 April 1897, date of death unknown) was an English professional footballer.
Passage 2:
Harry Wainwright (footballer)
Harry Wainwright( born 1899; date of death unknown) was an English footballer.
Passage 3:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 4:
Theodred II (Bishop of Elmham)
Theodred II was a medieval Bishop of Elmham. The date of Theodred's consecration unknown, but the date of his death was sometime between 995 and 997.
Passage 5:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 6:
Albert Thompson (footballer, born 1912)
Albert Thompson( born 1912, date of death unknown) was a Welsh footballer.
Passage 7:
Thomas Scott (diver)
Thomas Scott( 1907- date of death unknown) was an English diver.
Passage 8:
When Gangland Strikes
When Gangland Strikes is a 1956 American film noir crime film directed by R. G. Springsteen and written by John K. Butler and Frederick Louis Fox. The film stars Raymond Greenleaf, Marjie Millar, John Hudson, Anthony Caruso, Marian Carr, Slim Pickens and Mary Treen. The film was released on March 15, 1956, by Republic Pictures.
Passage 9:
R. G. Springsteen
Robert G. Springsteen (September 8, 1904 – December 9, 1989) was an American director of Hollywood B movies and television shows. He was most often credited on screen as R. G. Springsteen.
Passage 10:
Etan Boritzer
Etan Boritzer( born 1950) is an American writer of children ’s literature who is best known for his book" What is God?" first published in 1989. His best selling" What is?" illustrated children's book series on character education and difficult subjects for children is a popular teaching guide for parents, teachers and child- life professionals. Boritzer gained national critical acclaim after" What is God?" was published in 1989 although the book has caused controversy from religious fundamentalists for its universalist views. The other current books in the" What is?" series include What is Love?, What is Death?, What is Beautiful?, What is Funny?, What is Right?, What is Peace?, What is Money?, What is Dreaming?, What is a Friend?, What is True?, What is a Family?, What is a Feeling?" The series is now also translated into 15 languages. Boritzer was first published in 1963 at the age of 13 when he wrote an essay in his English class at Wade Junior High School in the Bronx, New York on the assassination of John F. Kennedy. His essay was included in a special anthology by New York City public school children compiled and published by the New York City Department of Education. Boritzer now lives in Venice, California and maintains his publishing office there also. He has helped numerous other authors to get published through" How to Get Your Book Published!" programs. Boritzer is also a yoga teacher who teaches regular classes locally and guest- teaches nationally. He is also recognized nationally as an erudite speaker on" The Teachings of the Buddha."
Question: What is the date of death of the director of film When Gangland Strikes?
Answer: December 9, 1989
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
McGuire (Formula One)
McGuire was a Formula One racing car constructor founded by Australian driver Brian McGuire. The team participated in one Formula One World Championship Grand Prix but failed to qualify.
Passage 2:
Lawsuit
A lawsuit begins when a complaint or petition is filed with the court. This complaint should explicitly state that one or more plaintiffs seek (s) damages or equitable relief from one or more stated defendants, and also should identify the legal and factual bases for doing so. It is important that the ``plaintiff selects the proper venue with the proper jurisdiction to bring his lawsuit. ''The clerk of a court signs or stamps the court seal upon a summons or citation, which is then served by the plaintiff upon the defendant, together with a copy of the complaint. This service notifies the defendants that they are being sued and that they are limited in the amount of time of a reply. The service provides a copy of the complaint in order to notify the defendants of the nature of the claims. Once the defendants are served with the summons and complaint, they are subject to a time limit to file an answer stating their defenses to the plaintiff's claims, which includes any challenges to the court's jurisdiction, and any counterclaims they wish to assert against the plaintiff.
Passage 3:
Pope Benedict IV
Pope Benedict IV (; died 30 July 903) was Pope from 1 February 900 to his death in 903. The tenth-century historian Flodoard, who nicknamed him "the Great", commended his noble birth and public generosity. He succeeded Pope John IX (898–900) and was followed by Pope Leo V (903).
Passage 4:
Lübz
Lübz is a town in the Ludwigslust-Parchim district, in Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania, Germany. It is situated on the river Elde, 12 km northeast of Parchim. It is home to the Mecklenburgische Brauerei Lübz, the largest local employer and one of the larger regional breweries.
Passage 5:
1930 Salmas earthquake
The 1930 Salmas earthquake occurred on in West Azerbaijan Province, Iran. The earthquake, which was among Iran's largest, measured 7.1 on the moment magnitude scale and had a maximum Mercalli intensity of IX ("Violent"). A damaging foreshock occurred fifteen hours prior to the main event and served as a warning to the people that felt it strongly. Reports from seismologists and seismological organizations indicate that up to 3,000 fatalities may have occurred in western Iran and eastern Turkey.
Passage 6:
Employer Identification Number
The Employer Identification Number (EIN), also known as the Federal Employer Identification Number (FEIN) or the Federal Tax Identification Number, is a unique nine - digit number assigned by the Internal Revenue Service (IRS) to business entities operating in the United States for the purposes of identification. When the number is used for identification rather than employment tax reporting, it is usually referred to as a Taxpayer Identification Number (TIN), and when used for the purposes of reporting employment taxes, it is usually referred to as an EIN. These numbers are used for tax administration and must be not used for any other purpose. For example, the EIN should not be used in tax lien auction or sales, lotteries, etc.
Passage 7:
Windsor Assembly
Windsor Assembly is a FCA Canada automobile factory in Windsor, Ontario, Canada. The factory opened in 1928 and started minivan production in 1983. Windsor Assembly is Windsor's largest employer with 6,108 employees (5,847 hourly; 243 salaried).
Passage 8:
Biff McGuire
William "Biff" McGuire (born October 25, 1926, New Haven, Connecticut) is an American actor. In recent years he has used the name William Biff McGuire professionally.
Passage 9:
The Lizzie McGuire Movie
The Lizzie McGuire Movie is a 2003 American teen comedy film released by Walt Disney Pictures on May 2, 2003. The film serves as the finale of the Disney Channel television series of the same name, and was the first theatrical film based on a Disney Channel series. The film stars Hilary Duff, Adam Lamberg, Robert Carradine, Hallie Todd and Jake Thomas, and tells the story of Lizzie's graduation trip to Rome. At its release, the film peaked at number two at the domestic box office behind X2: X-Men United. The Lizzie McGuire Movie was released on August 12, 2003 on VHS and DVD. The Lizzie McGuire Movie was directed by Jim Fall.
Passage 10:
New Haven, Connecticut
New Haven's economy originally was based in manufacturing, but the postwar period brought rapid industrial decline; the entire Northeast was affected, and medium-sized cities with large working-class populations, like New Haven, were hit particularly hard. Simultaneously, the growth and expansion of Yale University further affected the economic shift. Today, over half (56%) of the city's economy is now made up of services, in particular education and health care; Yale is the city's largest employer, followed by Yale – New Haven Hospital. Other large employers include St. Raphael Hospital, Smilow Cancer Hospital, Southern Connecticut State University, Assa Abloy Manufacturing, the Knights of Columbus headquarters, Higher One, Alexion Pharmaceuticals, Covidien and United Illuminating. Yale and Yale-New Haven are also among the largest employers in the state, and provide more $100,000+-salaried positions than any other employer in Connecticut.[citation needed]
Passage 11:
Yale University
A decade into co-education, rampant student assault and harassment by faculty became the impetus for the trailblazing lawsuit Alexander v. Yale. While unsuccessful in the courts, the legal reasoning behind the case changed the landscape of sex discrimination law and resulted in the establishment of Yale's Grievance Board and the Yale Women's Center. In March 2011 a Title IX complaint was filed against Yale by students and recent graduates, including editors of Yale's feminist magazine Broad Recognition, alleging that the university had a hostile sexual climate. In response, the university formed a Title IX steering committee to address complaints of sexual misconduct.
Passage 12:
Google Search
Because Google is the most popular search engine, many webmasters attempt to influence their website's Google rankings. An industry of consultants has arisen to help websites increase their rankings on Google and on other search engines. This field, called search engine optimization, attempts to discern patterns in search engine listings, and then develop a methodology for improving rankings to draw more searchers to their clients' sites. Search engine optimization encompasses both "on page" factors (like body copy, title elements, H1 heading elements and image alt attribute values) and Off Page Optimization factors (like anchor text and PageRank). The general idea is to affect Google's relevance algorithm by incorporating the keywords being targeted in various places "on page", in particular the title element and the body copy (note: the higher up in the page, presumably the better its keyword prominence and thus the ranking). Too many occurrences of the keyword, however, cause the page to look suspect to Google's spam checking algorithms. Google has published guidelines for website owners who would like to raise their rankings when using legitimate optimization consultants. It has been hypothesized, and, allegedly, is the opinion of the owner of one business about which there have been numerous complaints, that negative publicity, for example, numerous consumer complaints, may serve as well to elevate page rank on Google Search as favorable comments. The particular problem addressed in The New York Times article, which involved DecorMyEyes, was addressed shortly thereafter by an undisclosed fix in the Google algorithm. According to Google, it was not the frequently published consumer complaints about DecorMyEyes which resulted in the high ranking but mentions on news websites of events which affected the firm such as legal actions against it. Google Search Console helps to check for websites that use duplicate or copyright content.
Passage 13:
Biff Baker, U.S.A.
Biff Baker, U.S.A. is an American crime drama television series that aired on CBS from November 6, 1952, to March 26, 1953 starring Alan Hale, Jr. as Cold War spy Biff Baker.
Passage 14:
Reay Parish Church
Reay Parish Church is a Church of Scotland parish church serving Reay, Caithness. It is one of the most northerly communities on the Scottish mainland, located several miles to west of Thurso. The largest local employer is the Dounreay nuclear facility.
Passage 15:
Canadian Human Rights Commission
The Canadian Human Rights Commission (CHRC) was established in 1977 by the government of Canada. It is empowered under the "Canadian Human Rights Act" to investigate and try to settle complaints of discrimination in employment and in the provision of services within federal jurisdiction. The CHRC is also empowered under the "Employment Equity Act" to ensure that federally regulated employers provide equal opportunities for four designated groups: women, Aboriginal people, the disabled and visible minorities. The CHRC helps enforce these human rights and inform the general public and employers of these rights.
Passage 16:
Minister of Railways (India)
The Minister of Railways is the head of the Ministry of Railways of the Government of India. The railway minister is usually accorded a cabinet rank, and is responsible for Indian Railways, one of the largest employers in the world. An important responsibility of the railway minister is to present in Parliament the Railway Budget, the Annual Financial Statement of Indian Railways. Piyush Goyal of the Bharatiya Janata Party is the current Minister of Railways, serving since 3 September 2017. Railways Minister (India)
Passage 17:
Goodings Grove, Illinois
Goodings Grove was a census-designated place in northern Will County, Illinois, United States. The population was 17,084 at the 2000 census. It ceased to exist as an entity upon the incorporation of the village of Homer Glen, Illinois in 2001.
Passage 18:
Race Against the Machine
Race Against the Machine is a non-fiction book from 2011 by Erik Brynjolfsson and Andrew McAfee about the interaction of digital technology, employment and organization. The full title of the book is: "Race Against the Machine: How the Digital Revolution Is Accelerating Innovation, Driving Productivity, and Irreversibly Transforming Employment and the Economy".
Passage 19:
New Delhi
Connaught Place, one of North India's largest commercial and financial centres, is located in the northern part of New Delhi. Adjoining areas such as Barakhamba Road, ITO are also major commercial centres. Government and quasi government sector was the primary employer in New Delhi. The city's service sector has expanded due in part to the large skilled English-speaking workforce that has attracted many multinational companies. Key service industries include information technology, telecommunications, hotels, banking, media and tourism.
Passage 20:
Tucson, Arizona
Much of Tucson's economic development has been centered on the development of the University of Arizona, which is currently the second largest employer in the city. Davis-Monthan Air Force Base, located on the southeastern edge of the city, also provides many jobs for Tucson residents. Its presence, as well as the presence of the US Army Intelligence Center (Fort Huachuca, the largest employer in the region in nearby Sierra Vista), has led to the development of a significant number of high-tech industries, including government contractors, in the area. The city of Tucson is also a major hub for the Union Pacific Railroad's Sunset Route that links the Los Angeles ports with the South/Southeast regions of the country.
Question: What did the largest employer in the city Biff McGuire was born do about the Title IX complaint?
Answer: formed a Title IX steering committee to address complaints of sexual misconduct
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Passage 1:
Howard W. Koch
Howard Winchel Koch( April 11, 1916 – February 16, 2001) was an American producer and director of film and television.
Passage 2:
Rachel Feldman
Rachel Feldman( born August 22, 1954) is an American director of film and television and screenwriter of television films.
Passage 3:
Albert S. Rogell
Albert S. Rogell( August 21, 1901 Oklahoma City, Oklahoma- April 7, 1988 Los Angeles, California) was an American film director. Rogell directed more than a hundred movies between 1921 and 1958. He was the brother of producer Sid Rogell.
Passage 4:
Laugh It Off (1939 film)
Laugh It Off is a 1939 American musical film directed by Albert S. Rogell and starring Johnny Downs, Constance Moore, Marjorie Rambeau and Cecil Cunningham. The plot follows four out of work actresses who join forces and open a nightclub.
Passage 5:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 6:
Hanro Smitsman
Hanro Smitsman, born in 1967 in Breda( Netherlands), is a writer and director of film and television.
Passage 7:
Brian Johnson (special effects artist)
Brian Johnson( born 1939 or 1940) is a British designer and director of film and television special effects.
Passage 8:
Stamboul (film)
Stamboul is a 1932 British drama film directed by Dimitri Buchowetzki and starring Warwick Ward, Rosita Moreno, Margot Grahame, and Garry Marsh. It was released by the British division of Paramount Pictures. The film's sets were designed by the art director Heinrich Richter, Hermann Warm and R. Holmes Paul. Buchowetski also co-directed" El hombre que asesino" with Fernando Gomis, the Spanish- language version of the film, also released by Paramount. The film is based on the novel" L'homme qui assasina"( 1906) by Claude Farrère and on a play by Pierre Frondaie.
Passage 9:
Dimitri Buchowetzki
Dimitri Buchowetzki( 1885–1932) born Dmitry Savelyevych Bukhovecky was a Russian film director, screenwriter, and actor in Germany, Sweden, the US, the UK, and France. Buchowetzki began work at MGM on" Love"( 1927) with Greta Garbo and Ricardo Cortez. However, producer Irving Thalberg was unhappy with the early filming, and replaced Buchowetzki with Edmund Goulding, cinematographer Merritt B. Gerstad with William H. Daniels, and Cortez with John Gilbert.
Passage 10:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Question: Are director of film Stamboul (Film) and director of film Laugh It Off (1939 Film) from the same country?
Answer: no
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{
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Passage 1:
Sigmaringen Castle
Sigmaringen Castle (German: "Schloss Sigmaringen") was the princely castle and seat of government for the Princes of Hohenzollern-Sigmaringen. Situated in the Swabian "Alb" region of Baden-Württemberg, Germany, this castle dominates the skyline of the town of Sigmaringen. The castle was rebuilt following a fire in 1893, and only the towers of the earlier medieval fortress remain. Schloss Sigmaringen was a family estate of the Swabian Hohenzollern family, a cadet branch of the Hohenzollern family, from which the German Emperors and kings of Prussia came. During the closing months of World War II, Schloss Sigmaringen was briefly the seat of the Vichy French Government after France was liberated by the Allies. The castle and museums may be visited throughout the year, but only on guided tours.
Passage 2:
List of miscellaneous works by Anthony Salvin
Anthony Salvin (1799–1881) was an English architect, born in Sunderland Bridge, County Durham. He trained under John Paterson of Edinburgh, and moved to London in 1821. His works include new churches, restoration of and additions to existing churches, and various other buildings, including schools. However, he is mainly noted for his work on existing major buildings, including castles, and for designing new substantial country houses. The castles on which he worked include Windsor Castle, Norwich Castle, Rockingham Castle, Newark Castle, Warkworth Castle, Muncaster Castle, and Warwick Castle. He also carried out work on the Tower of London, and on Trinity College, Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, and University College, Durham. His new country houses include Mamhead House (his first major project), Scotney Castle, Keele Hall, Thoresby Hall, and Peckforton Castle. In addition he designed the Observatory for Durham University.
Passage 3:
Menzies of Culdares
The title Menzies of Culdares came to prominence following the extinction of the main Menzies of Weem line in 1911. The Clan was without a Chief until Col. Ronald Steuart Menzies of Culdares and Arndilly, the lineal heir of Colonel James Menzies of Culdares, a prominent Covenanting officer and cousin of the first Baronet, petitioned Lyon Court in 1957 and obtained arms in the title of "The Menzies of Menzies". His son, David Steuart Menzies of Menzies is the present Chief. The title Menzies of Culdares was matriculated to his second son, Simon Menzies of Culdares, in 2006. Meggernie Castle in Glen Lyon, Perthshire was the Seat of the Culdares line
Passage 4:
Milntown Castle
Milntown Castle was an early 16th-century castle which was situated near Milton, in Easter Ross, in the Scottish Highlands. It was built by the Munro of Milntown family, a cadet branch of the Clan Munro. In 1656, the castle and estate was sold to George Mackenzie, 1st Earl of Cromartie also known as George MacKenzie of Tarbet. He renamed the estate New Tarbat after Tarbat Castle (now more commonly known as Ballone Castle), the family's original seat near Portmahomack. Mackenzie had the Milntown Castle pulled down and only part of the basement survives. He then replaced the castle with a new mansion built nearby. When the new mansion was built, the old Milntown Castle was remodelled as part of the garden. That mansion was itself demolished and in 1787 was replaced with a Georgian house (now known as Tarbat House) by his descendant John Mackenzie, Lord MacLeod.
Passage 5:
Osu Castle
Osu Castle, also known as Fort Christiansborg or simply the Castle, is a castle located in Osu, Accra, Ghana on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean's Gulf of Guinea. The first substantial fort was built by Denmark-Norway in the 1660s, though the castle has changed hands between Denmark-Norway, Portugal, the Akwamu, Britain, and finally post-Independence Ghana, and was rebuilt numerous times. For most of the castle's history, it has been the seat of government in Ghana with some interruptions, the latest when the John Kufuor administration moved the seat of government to Golden Jubilee House after 6 January 2009, which was quickly reversed by the incoming John Atta Mills administration. It also serves as the place where the late president of Ghana John Atta Mills is buried; in a bird sanctuary, overlooking the Atlantic Ocean.
Passage 6:
Meggernie Castle
Meggernie Castle is a castle in the heart of Perth and Kinross, in central Scotland. It is located halfway up Glenlyon, where the river Lyon flows through on its way to join Loch Tay. From the 1920s until the 1950s, the castle was owned by Sir Ernest Wills, 3rd Baronet.
Passage 7:
List of new churches by Anthony Salvin
Anthony Salvin (1799–1881) was an English architect, born in Sunderland Bridge, County Durham. He trained under John Paterson of Edinburgh, and moved to London in 1821. His works include new churches, restoration of and additions to existing churches, and various other buildings, including schools. However, he is mainly noted for his work on existing major buildings, including castles, and for designing new substantial country houses. The castles on which he worked include Windsor Castle, Norwich Castle, Rockingham Castle, Newark Castle, Warkworth Castle, Muncaster Castle, and Warwick Castle. He also carried out work on the Tower of London, and on Trinity College, Cambridge, Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge, and University College, Durham. His new country houses include Mamhead House (his first major project), Scotney Castle, Keele Hall, Thoresby Hall, and Peckforton Castle. In addition he designed the Observatory for Durham University.
Passage 8:
Hall, Lanteglos-by-Fowey
Hall in the parish of Lanteglos-by-Fowey in Cornwall, England, is an historic estate, most prominent as the seat of a branch of the Mohun family, feudal barons of Dunster, of Dunster Castle in Somerset, of whom the first member, the warrior William de Moyon (died post 1090), had come over with William the Conqueror during the Norman Conquest of 1066. The family of Mohun of Hall was also seated at Bodinnick ("alias" Bodinnoc, etc.) also in the parish of Lanteglos-by-Fowey and later at Boconnoc, both in Cornwall, and was one of the four co-heirs of Edward Courtenay, 1st Earl of Devon (1527–1556), feudal baron of Okehampton, etc., of Tiverton Castle, Okehampton Castle, etc., the last of the mediaeval Courtenay Earls of Devon. In recognition of this in 1628 the senior representative of the Mohun family of Hall was created Baron Mohun of Okehampton, namely John Mohun, 1st Baron Mohun of Okehampton (1595-1641) eldest son and heir of Sir Reginald Mohun, 1st Baronet (1564–1639) of Boconnoc. The family of Mohun of Hall died out in the male line in 1712, following the death by duel of Charles Mohun, 4th Baron Mohun of Okehampton (1677-1712), who died without progeny. However, the family had long out-lived the senior Dunster line which died out in the male line in 1375, following the death of John de Mohun, 2nd Baron Mohun, KG, (c.1320-1375). Two monumental brasses survive in Lanteglos church to members of the Mohun family of Hall, namely Thomas Mohun (died c.1440) and John Mohun (d.1508).
Passage 9:
Ambras Castle
Ambras Castle (German: "Schloss Ambras Innsbruck" ) is a Renaissance castle and palace located in the hills above Innsbruck, Austria. Ambras Castle is 587 m above sea level. Considered one of the most popular tourist attractions of the Tyrol, Ambras Castle was built in the 16th century on the spot of an earlier 10th-century castle, which became the seat of power for the Counts of Andechs. The cultural and historical importance of the castle is closely connected with Archduke Ferdinand II (1529–1595) and served as his residence from 1563 to 1595. Ferdinand was one of history’s most prominent collectors of art. The princely sovereign of Tyrol, son of Emperor Ferdinand I, ordered that the mediaeval fortress at Ambras be turned into a Renaissance castle as a gift for his wife Philippine Welser. The cultured humanist from the House of Habsburg accommodated his world-famous collections in a museum built specifically for that purpose, making Castle Ambras Innsbruck the oldest museum in the world.
Passage 10:
Świny Castle
Świny Castle (Polish: "Zamek Świny"; formerly "Schweinhausburg" in German) - formerly a gord, as a stronghold existed in its location already in the fifth century - securing the Lubawecki mountain pass, the site was recorded in Cosmas' documents from 1108, where the gord is recorded as "Suini in Poloniae". Possibly, soon after, the gord had been expanded into a military stronghold, at which time it was the seat of the castellans. The castle was mentioned in Pope Adrian IV's Papal bull. After the Bolków Castle was constructed, the castle began to lose its significance, this continued up to the nineteenth century, when the castle suffered severe damage due to hurricanes (1762, 1840, 1848, and 1868). The castle suffered further devastation - it was not until 1931 when the authorities had engaged in securing the castle's ruins. Currently the castle is privately owned.
Question: In what country is the castle that was the Seat of the Culdares line?
Answer: Scotland
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Passage 1:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 2:
John Farrell (businessman)
John Farrell is the director of YouTube in Latin America.
Passage 3:
Harald Reinl
Harald Reinl (8 July 1908 in Bad Ischl, Austria – 9 October 1986 in Santa Cruz de Tenerife, Spain) was an Austrian film director. He is known for the films he made based on Edgar Wallace and Karl May books (see Karl May movies and Edgar Wallace movies) and also made mountain films, Heimatfilms, German war films and entries in such popular German film series as "Dr. MabuseJerry Cotton" and "Kommissar X". Reinl began his career as an extra in the mountain films of Arnold Fanck. He worked as screenwriter on the film "Tiefland" directed by and starring Leni Riefenstahl. Reinl's first movie as director was the mountain film "Mountain Crystal" (1949). He was Oscar nominated for his documentary feature "Chariots of the Gods" (1970). By the 1970s, he had semi-retired to the Canary Islands. In 1986, in his Tenerife retirement home, he was stabbed to death by Daniela Maria Delis, his alcoholic wife and a former actress from Czechoslovakia.
Passage 4:
John Donatich
John Donatich is the Director of Yale University Press.
Passage 5:
Brian Kennedy (gallery director)
Brian Patrick Kennedy( born 5 November 1961) is an Irish- born art museum director who has worked in Ireland and Australia, and now lives and works in the United States. He is currently the director of the Peabody Essex Museum. He was the director of the Toledo Museum of Art in Ohio from 2010 to 2019. He was the director of the Hood Museum of Art from 2005 to 2010, and the National Gallery of Australia( Canberra) from 1997- 2004.
Passage 6:
Olav Aaraas
Olav Aaraas( born 10 July 1950) is a Norwegian historian and museum director. He was born in Fredrikstad. From 1982 to 1993 he was the director of Sogn Folk Museum, from 1993 to 2010 he was the director of Maihaugen and from 2001 he has been the director of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. In 2010 he was decorated with the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.
Passage 7:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Passage 8:
Dana Blankstein
Dana Blankstein- Cohen( born March 3, 1981) is the director of the Israeli Academy of Film and Television. She is a film director, and an Israeli culture entrepreneur.
Passage 9:
Michael Govan
Michael Govan( born 1963) is the director of the Los Angeles County Museum of Art since 2006. Prior to this, Govan worked as the director of the Dia Art Foundation in New York City.
Passage 10:
Death in the Red Jaguar
Death in the Red Jaguar is a 1968 thriller film directed by Harald Reinl and starring George Nader, Heinz Weiss and Daniela Surina. It was part of the Jerry Cotton series of films.
Question: Which country the director of film Death In The Red Jaguar is from?
Answer: Austria
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Passage 1:
Jaco Van Dormael
Jaco Van Dormael( born 9 February 1957) is a Belgian film director, screenwriter and playwright. His films especially focus on a respectful and sympathetic portrayal of people with mental and physical disabilities. Van Dormael spent his childhood travelling around Europe, before going on to study filmmaking at the INSAS in Brussels, where he wrote and directed his first short film," Maedeli la brèche"( 1981), which received the Honorary Foreign Film Award at the Student Academy Awards. Van Dormael's feature debut," Toto le héros"( 1991), won the Caméra d' Or at the Cannes Film Festival. Five years later," Le huitième jour"( 1996) played at Cannes, where his two leading actors, Daniel Auteuil and Pascal Duquenne, were jointly awarded the prize for Best Actor. His third feature film," Mr. Nobody"( 2009), won six Magritte Awards, including Best Film and Best Director.
Passage 2:
Fernando Segovia
Fernando Segovia( born 1948) is Oberlin Graduate Professor of New Testament and Early Christianity at Vanderbilt University Divinity School, and in 2014 was the President of the Society of Biblical Literature. Segovia is a theologian, scriptural critic, and cultural critic. In his role in postcolonial biblical criticism, Segovia focuses upon the New Testament and the origins of Christianity.
Passage 3:
The Brand New Testament
The Brand New Testament is a 2015 fantasy dark comedy film written, produced, and directed by Jaco Van Dormael. It is a co-production among Belgium, France, and Luxembourg. The film was screened at the Directors' Fortnight section at the 2015 Cannes Film Festival. It was selected as the Belgian entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the 88th Academy Awards, making the December shortlist of nine films, but was not nominated. " The Brand New Testament" received ten nominations at the 6th Magritte Awards, winning four awards, including Best Film and Best Director for Van Dormael. The film has become a cult movie.
Passage 4:
Diggstown
Diggstown, also known as Midnight Sting, is a 1992 American sports comedy- drama film directed by Michael Ritchie, and stars James Woods, Louis Gossett, Jr., Bruce Dern, Heather Graham, Oliver Platt and Randall" Tex" Cobb.
Passage 5:
Michael Ritchie (film director)
Michael Brunswick Ritchie (November 28, 1938 – April 16, 2001) was an American film director of films with comical or satirical leanings, such as "The Candidate" and "Smile". He scored commercial successes directing sports films like "Downhill Racer" and "The Bad News Bears", and Chevy Chase's "Fletch" comedies.
Passage 6:
David Alan Black
David Alan Black( born 9 June 1952, Honolulu, Hawaii) is Professor of New Testament and Greek and the Dr. M. O. Owens Jr. Chair of New Testament Studies at the Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. He specialises in New Testament Greek grammar( Koine Greek), the application of linguistics to the study of the Greek New Testament, and New Testament textual criticism. Black was born in Honolulu, Hawaii. In 1975, Black finished his studies at the Biola University. In 1983 he received a D. Theol. at the University of Basel. He has taught at the Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary since 1998. He has taught Greek to seminary students and church leaders in several different countries.
Passage 7:
Allen Wikgren
Allen Paul Wikgren ( 3 December 1906 – 7 May 1998) was an American New Testament scholar at the University of Chicago. His work centred on the text of the New Testament and New Testament manuscripts, but also included Hellenistic and biblical Greek and early Jewish literature( particularly Josephus), as well as the English Bible. Wikgren earned his Bachelor of Arts degree( in Greek) in 1928, his Master of Arts degree in 1929 and his Ph.D. in 1932, all from the University of Chicago. His doctoral dissertation was entitled" A Comparative Study of the Theodotionic and Septuagint Versions of Daniel". An ordained minister in the mainline Northern Baptist Convention, Wikgren then served as a minister at First Baptist Church in Belleville, Kansas and as a professor of New Testament literature at Kansas City Baptist Theological Seminary( now Central Baptist Theological Seminary in Shawnee, Kansas)( 1935- 1937) and of biblical literature and classics at Ottawa University in Ottawa, Kansas( 1937- 1940) before returning to Chicago to join the University of Chicago Divinity School as the J. M. Powis Smith Instructor in 1940. At Chicago, Wikgren was a member of the Department of New Testament and Early Christian Literature in the university's Division of the Humanities, a department which he would later serve as chair. His colleagues in New Testament studies during his long tenure administering the department( 1953- 1972) included figures such as Norman Perrin, Robert M. Grant and Markus Barth. Perhaps Wikgren's most widely known contribution to the study of the New Testament was his role, together with Kurt Aland, Matthew Black, Carlo Maria Martini and Bruce M. Metzger, on the editorial committee that established the Greek text and critical apparatuses in the standard hand editions of the Greek New Testament: the Nestle- Aland" Novum Testamentum Graece"( 26th edition, published by the Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft first in 1979 and revised in 1983) and the United Bible Societies'" The Greek New Testament"( 3rd edition, published by the United Bible Societies in 1983). Wikgren served as president of the Chicago Society of Biblical Research in 1951- 1952. He was a member of the Revised Standard Version committee from 1952, participating in the translation of the deuterocanonical books and the revision of the New Testament. And he was director of the Chicago Lectionary Project from 1958- 1972. He also held visiting professorships at a number of universities: Indiana University – Gary, Pacific School of Religion( Berkeley, California), University of Ghana, Århus University, Concordia Theological Seminary( Springfield, Illinois[ now back in Fort Wayne, Indiana]) and Uppsala University.
Passage 8:
Robert M. Grant (theologian)
Robert McQueen Grant( November 25, 1917 – June 10, 2014) was an American academic theologian and the Carl Darling Buck Professor Emeritus of Humanities and of New Testament and Early Christianity at the University of Chicago( in the former Department of New Testament& Early Christian Literature and also in the Divinity School). His scholarly work focused on the New Testament and Early Christianity.
Passage 9:
Maurice A. Robinson
Maurice Arthur Robinson( born October 13, 1947) is an American professor of New Testament and Greek( retired) and a proponent of the Byzantine- priority method of New Testament textual criticism.
Passage 10:
Donald Guthrie (theologian)
Donald Guthrie( February 21, 1916 – September 8, 1992) was a British New Testament scholar, best known for his" New Testament Introduction"( 1962) and" New Testament Theology"( 1981) which are recognized as significant books related to the New Testament.
Question: Do both films Diggstown and The Brand New Testament have the directors that share the same nationality?
Answer: no
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Passage 1:
Ministry of Consumer Affairs, Food and Public Distribution
The Ministry of Consumer Affairs, Food and Public Distribution is a ministry of India. The Ministry is headed by a minister of Cabinet rank. The current (Cabinet Rank Minister Ram Vilas Paswan.
Passage 2:
Central Asians in Ancient Indian literature
Central Asia and Ancient India have long traditions of social - cultural, religious, political and economic contact since remote antiquity. The two regions have common and contiguous borders, climatic continuity, similar geographical features and geo - cultural affinity. There has always been uninterrupted flow of people, material and the ideas between the two.
Passage 3:
Air Ministry
The Air Ministry was a department of the Government of the United Kingdom with the responsibility of managing the affairs of the Royal Air Force, that existed from 1918 to 1964. It was under the political authority of the Secretary of State for Air.
Passage 4:
Los Angeles Clippers
In what was supposed to be a counter-move, the Coliseum Commission, the management entity that managed the Los Angeles Memorial Sports Arena and Coliseum, had planned to build a new 18,700 - seat arena in the parking lot next to the Sports Arena that would have cost up to $94 million, that would have included 1,100 club seats, 84 luxury suites, and an on - site practice facility for the Clippers. However, those plans were scuttled once planning for Staples Center (two miles directly up the street from the Sports Arena) were taking place, and the Clippers decided to become a tenant at Staples.
Passage 5:
United Arab Emirates
The traditional food of the Emirates has always been rice, fish and meat. The people of the United Arab Emirates have adopted most of their foods from other West and South Asian countries including Iran, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, India and Oman. Seafood has been the mainstay of the Emirati diet for centuries. Meat and rice are other staple foods, with lamb and mutton preferred to goat and beef. Popular beverages are coffee and tea, which can be complemented with cardamom, saffron, or mint to give them a distinctive flavour.Popular cultural Emirati dishes include threed, machboos, khubisa, khameer and chabab bread among others while Lugaimat is a famous Emirati dessert.
Passage 6:
Sino-Tibetan relations during the Ming dynasty
The official position of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of the People's Republic of China is that the Ming implemented a policy of managing Tibet according to conventions and customs, granting titles and setting up administrative organs over Tibet. The State Council Information Office of the People's Republic states that the Ming dynasty's Ü-Tsang Commanding Office governed most areas of Tibet. It also states that while the Ming abolished the policy council set up by the Mongol Yuan to manage local affairs in Tibet and the Mongol system of Imperial Tutors to govern religious affairs, the Ming adopted a policy of bestowing titles upon religious leaders who had submitted to the Ming dynasty. For example, an edict of the Hongwu Emperor in 1373 appointed the Tibetan leader Choskunskyabs as the General of the Ngari Military and Civil Wanhu Office, stating:
Passage 7:
Samuel Moore (Quaker leader)
Samuel Moore (1742 – 1822) is notable as a leader in the early establishment of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) in Maritime Canada, and as the progenitor of a number of civic, religious and political leaders in both Canada and the United States.
Passage 8:
Tarmizi Taher
Tarmizi Taher, MD (7 October 1936 – 12 February 2013) was Indonesia's Minister of Religious Affairs from 1993 to 1998. After qualifying as a doctor, he made his career in the Indonesian Navy and retired with the rank of rear admiral. He then served as General Secretary of the Department of Religious Affairs for 5 years, before being appointed as Minister in 1993. After leaving his ministerial position, Taher has held other public appointments, including Indonesian ambassador to Norway and Iceland. He is currently serving as the elected chairman of Dewan Masjid Indonesia (Indonesian Mosque Council), an umbrella organization of local Mosque councils, the president of Az-zahra Islamic University in Jakarta, and the president director of Center for Moderate Moslem (CMM), a non-governmental organization aiming at improving understanding and cooperation among Islamic organizations. He was honored with Gusi Peace Prize from Philippines for his engagement in religious affairs.
Passage 9:
Philabundance
Philabundance is a non-profit food bank that serves the Philadelphia and Delaware Valley region of Pennsylvania, United States. It is the largest such organization in the region.
Passage 10:
Nasi tumpang
Nasi tumpang is rice dish that origin from Kelantan, Malaysia. Nasi tumpang is rice with different layer of dishes wrapped in a cone shape with banana leaf packed. Traditionally, it was staple food for travelers or farmers in Kelantan to bring to work. It is packed tightly consisting an omelette, beef or fish floss, and shrimp or fish local curry, sweet sambal gravy and cucumbers.
Passage 11:
Boston
Boston shares many cultural roots with greater New England, including a dialect of the non-rhotic Eastern New England accent known as Boston English, and a regional cuisine with a large emphasis on seafood, salt, and dairy products. Irish Americans are a major influence on Boston's politics and religious institutions. Boston also has its own collection of neologisms known as Boston slang.
Passage 12:
Roman Republic
The staple foods were generally consumed around 11 o'clock, and consisted of bread, lettuce, cheese, fruits, nuts, and cold meat left over from the dinner the night before.[citation needed] The Roman poet Horace mentions another Roman favorite, the olive, in reference to his own diet, which he describes as very simple: "As for me, olives, endives, and smooth mallows provide sustenance." The family ate together, sitting on stools around a table. Fingers were used to eat solid foods and spoons were used for soups.[citation needed]
Passage 13:
Tibet
Tibet retained nominal power over religious and regional political affairs, while the Mongols managed a structural and administrative rule over the region, reinforced by the rare military intervention. This existed as a "diarchic structure" under the Yuan emperor, with power primarily in favor of the Mongols. Mongolian prince Khuden gained temporal power in Tibet in the 1240s and sponsored Sakya Pandita, whose seat became the capital of Tibet. Drogön Chögyal Phagpa, Sakya Pandita's nephew became Imperial Preceptor of Kublai Khan, founder of the Yuan dynasty.
Passage 14:
Greece
Greece's foreign policy is conducted through the Ministry for Foreign Affairs and its head, the Minister for Foreign Affairs. The current minister is Nikos Kotzias. According to the official website, the main aims of the Ministry for Foreign Affairs are to represent Greece before other states and international organizations; safeguarding the interests of the Greek state and of its citizens abroad; the promotion of Greek culture; the fostering of closer relations with the Greek diaspora; and the promotion of international cooperation. Additionally, due to its political and geographical proximity to Europe, Asia, the Middle East and Africa, Greece is a country of significant geostrategic importance and is considered to be a middle power and has developed a regional policy to help promote peace and stability in the Balkans, the Mediterranean, and the Middle East.
Passage 15:
Tibet
The economy of Tibet is dominated by subsistence agriculture, though tourism has become a growing industry in recent decades. The dominant religion in Tibet is Tibetan Buddhism; in addition there is Bön, which is similar to Tibetan Buddhism, and there are also Tibetan Muslims and Christian minorities. Tibetan Buddhism is a primary influence on the art, music, and festivals of the region. Tibetan architecture reflects Chinese and Indian influences. Staple foods in Tibet are roasted barley, yak meat, and butter tea.
Passage 16:
Malu Mirisata
Malu Mirisata (spicy Sri Lankan fish curry) has more of a chili flavor and it’s a favorite method of cooking fish in Sri Lanka. The dish is popular around the country and mostly in seaboard area where fish and other seafood are staple foods. Coconut milk is used in some variations of this dish. This can be usually served with rice, bread or string hoppers.
Passage 17:
Jamie Peck
Jamie Peck FRSC FAcSS (born July 9, 1962 in Kimberley, Nottinghamshire, UK) is Canada Research Chair in Urban & Regional Political Economy and Professor of Geography at the University of British Columbia, Canada. He is the Managing Editor of "Environment and Planning A" and the convenor of the Summer Institute in Economic Geography.
Passage 18:
Ashkenazi Jews
Religious Ashkenazi Jews living in Israel are obliged to follow the authority of the chief Ashkenazi rabbi in halakhic matters. In this respect, a religiously Ashkenazi Jew is an Israeli who is more likely to support certain religious interests in Israel, including certain political parties. These political parties result from the fact that a portion of the Israeli electorate votes for Jewish religious parties; although the electoral map changes from one election to another, there are generally several small parties associated with the interests of religious Ashkenazi Jews. The role of religious parties, including small religious parties that play important roles as coalition members, results in turn from Israel's composition as a complex society in which competing social, economic, and religious interests stand for election to the Knesset, a unicameral legislature with 120 seats.
Passage 19:
Mexico City
Mexico City, being the seat of the powers of the Union, did not belong to any particular state but to all. Therefore, it was the president, representing the federation, who used to designate the head of government of the Federal District, a position which is sometimes presented outside Mexico as the "Mayor" of Mexico City.[citation needed] In the 1980s, given the dramatic increase in population of the previous decades, the inherent political inconsistencies of the system, as well as the dissatisfaction with the inadequate response of the federal government after the 1985 earthquake, residents began to request political and administrative autonomy to manage their local affairs.[citation needed] Some political groups even proposed that the Federal District be converted into the 32nd state of the federation.
Passage 20:
Central African Republic
Agriculture is dominated by the cultivation and sale of food crops such as cassava, peanuts, maize, sorghum, millet, sesame, and plantain. The annual real GDP growth rate is just above 3%. The importance of food crops over exported cash crops is indicated by the fact that the total production of cassava, the staple food of most Central Africans, ranges between 200,000 and 300,000 tonnes a year, while the production of cotton, the principal exported cash crop, ranges from 25,000 to 45,000 tonnes a year. Food crops are not exported in large quantities, but still constitute the principal cash crops of the country, because Central Africans derive far more income from the periodic sale of surplus food crops than from exported cash crops such as cotton or coffee.[citation needed] Much of the country is self-sufficient in food crops; however, livestock development is hindered by the presence of the tsetse fly.[citation needed]
Question: What is a staple food in the place that managed religious and political affairs?
Answer: yak meat
|
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The Project Gutenberg EBook of Doctor Pascal, by Emile Zola
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Title: Doctor Pascal
Author: Emile Zola
Translator: Mary J. Serrano
Release Date: January 14, 2004 [EBook #10720]
Last Updated: September 5, 2016
Language: English
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*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DOCTOR PASCAL ***
Produced by David Widger, Dagny, and John Bickers
DOCTOR PASCAL
By Emile Zola
Translated By Mary J. Serrano
I.
In the heat of the glowing July afternoon, the room, with blinds
carefully closed, was full of a great calm. From the three windows,
through the cracks of the old wooden shutters, came only a few scattered
sunbeams which, in the midst of the obscurity, made a soft brightness
that bathed surrounding objects in a diffused and tender light. It
was cool here in comparison with the overpowering heat that was felt
outside, under the fierce rays of the sun that blazed upon the front of
the house.
Standing before the press which faced the windows, Dr. Pascal was
looking for a paper that he had come in search of. With doors wide
open, this immense press of carved oak, adorned with strong and handsome
mountings of metal, dating from the last century, displayed within its
capacious depths an extraordinary collection of papers and manuscripts
of all sorts, piled up in confusion and filling every shelf to
overflowing. For more than thirty years the doctor had thrown into it
every page he wrote, from brief notes to the complete texts of his great
works on heredity. Thus it was that his searches here were not always
easy. He rummaged patiently among the papers, and when he at last found
the one he was looking for, he smiled.
For an instant longer he remained near the bookcase, reading the note by
a golden sunbeam that came to him from the middle window. He himself,
in this dawnlike light, appeared, with his snow-white hair and beard,
strong and vigorous; although he was near sixty, his color was so fresh,
his features were so finely cut, his eyes were still so clear, and
he had so youthful an air that one might have taken him, in his
close-fitting, maroon velvet jacket, for a young man with powdered hair.
âHere, Clotilde,â he said at last, âyou will copy this note. Ramond
would never be able to decipher my diabolical writing.â
And he crossed the room and laid the paper beside the young girl, who
stood working at a high desk in the embrasure of the window to the
right.
âVery well, master,â she answered.
She did not even turn round, so engrossed was her attention with the
pastel which she was at the moment rapidly sketching in with broad
strokes of the crayon. Near her in a vase bloomed a stalk of hollyhocks
of a singular shade of violet, striped with yellow. But the profile
of her small round head, with its short, fair hair, was clearly
distinguishable; an exquisite and serious profile, the straight forehead
contracted in a frown of attention, the eyes of an azure blue, the nose
delicately molded, the chin firm. Her bent neck, especially, of a milky
whiteness, looked adorably youthful under the gold of the clustering
curls. In her long black blouse she seemed very tall, with her slight
figure, slender throat, and flexible form, the flexible slenderness
of the divine figures of the Renaissance. In spite of her twenty-five
years, she still retained a childlike air and looked hardly eighteen.
âAnd,â resumed the doctor, âyou will arrange the press a little. Nothing
can be found there any longer.â
âVery well, master,â she repeated, without raising her head;
âpresently.â
Pascal had turned round to seat himself at his desk, at the other end
of the room, before the window to the left. It was a plain black wooden
table, and was littered also with papers and pamphlets of all sorts. And
silence again reigned in the peaceful semi-obscurity, contrasting with
the overpowering glare outside. The vast apartment, a dozen meters long
and six wide, had, in addition to the press, only two bookcases, filled
with books. Antique chairs of various kinds stood around in disorder,
while for sole adornment, along the walls, hung with an old _salon_
Empire paper of a rose pattern, were nailed pastels of flowers of
strange coloring dimly visible. The woodwork of three folding-doors,
the door opening on the hall and two others at opposite ends of the
apartment, the one leading to the doctorâs room, the other to that of
the young girl, as well as the cornice of the smoke-darkened ceiling,
dated from the time of Louis XV.
An hour passed without a sound, without a breath. Then Pascal, who, as
a diversion from his work, had opened a newspaper--_Le Temps_--which had
lain forgotten on the table, uttered a slight exclamation:
âWhy! your father has been appointed editor of the _Epoque_, the
prosperous republican journal which has the publishing of the papers of
the Tuileries.â
This news must have been unexpected by him, for he laughed frankly, at
once pleased and saddened, and in an undertone he continued:
âMy word! If things had been invented, they could not have been finer.
Life is a strange thing. This is a very interesting article.â
Clotilde made no answer, as if her thoughts were a hundred leagues away
from what her uncle was saying. And he did not speak again, but taking
his scissors after he had read the article, he cut it out and pasted it
on a sheet of paper, on which he made some marginal notes in his large,
irregular handwriting. Then he went back to the press to classify this
new document in it. But he was obliged to take a chair, the shelf being
so high that he could not reach it notwithstanding his tall stature.
On this high shelf a whole series of enormous bundles of papers were
arranged in order, methodically classified. Here were papers of all
sorts: sheets of manuscript, documents on stamped paper, articles cut
out of newspapers, arranged in envelopes of strong blue paper, each of
which bore on the outside a name written in large characters. One felt
that these documents were tenderly kept in view, taken out continually,
and carefully replaced; for of the whole press, this corner was the only
one kept in order.
When Pascal, mounted on the chair, had found the package he was looking
for, one of the bulkiest of the envelopes, on which was written the name
âSaccard,â he added to it the new document, and then replaced the whole
under its corresponding alphabetical letter. A moment later he had
forgotten the subject, and was complacently straightening a pile of
papers that were falling down. And when he at last jumped down off the
chair, he said:
âWhen you are arranging the press, Clotilde, donât touch the packages at
the top; do you hear?â
âVery well, master,â she responded, for the third time, docilely.
He laughed again, with the gaiety that was natural to him.
âThat is forbidden.â
âI know it, master.â
And he closed the press with a vigorous turn of the key, which he
then threw into a drawer of his writing table. The young girl was
sufficiently acquainted with his researches to keep his manuscripts in
some degree of order; and he gladly employed her as his secretary; he
made her copy his notes when some _confrere_ and friend, like Dr. Ramond
asked him to send him some document. But she was not a _savante_; he
simply forbade her to read what he deemed it useless that she should
know.
At last, perceiving her so completely absorbed in her work, his
attention was aroused.
âWhat is the matter with you, that you donât open your lips?â he said.
âAre you so taken up with the copying of those flowers that you canât
speak?â
This was another of the labors which he often intrusted to her--to make
drawings, aquarelles, and pastels, which he afterward used in his works
as plates. Thus, for the past five years he had been making some curious
experiments on a collection of hollyhocks; he had obtained a whole
series of new colorings by artificial fecundations. She made these sorts
of copies with extraordinary minuteness, an exactitude of design and
of coloring so extreme that he marveled unceasingly at the
conscientiousness of her work, and he often told her that she had a
âgood, round, strong, clear little headpiece.â
But, this time, when he approached her to look over her shoulder, he
uttered a cry of comic fury.
âThere you are at your nonsense! Now you are off in the clouds again!
Will you do me the favor to tear that up at once?â
She straightened herself, her cheeks flushed, her eyes aglow with the
delight she took in her work, her slender fingers stained with the red
and blue crayon that she had crushed.
âOh, master!â
And in this âmaster,â so tender, so caressingly submissive, this term
of complete abandonment by which she called him, in order to avoid using
the words godfather or uncle, which she thought silly, there was, for
the first time, a passionate accent of revolt, the revindication of a
being recovering possession of and asserting itself.
For nearly two hours she had been zealously striving to produce an exact
and faithful copy of the hollyhocks, and she had just thrown on another
sheet a whole bunch of imaginary flowers, of dream-flowers, extravagant
and superb. She had, at times, these abrupt shiftings, a need of
breaking away in wild fancies in the midst of the most precise of
reproductions. She satisfied it at once, falling always into this
extraordinary efflorescence of such spirit and fancy that it never
repeated itself; creating roses, with bleeding hearts, weeping tears of
sulphur, lilies like crystal urns, flowers without any known form, even,
spreading out starry rays, with corollas floating like clouds. To-day,
on a groundwork dashed in with a few bold strokes of black crayon, it
was a rain of pale stars, a whole shower of infinitely soft petals;
while, in a corner, an unknown bloom, a bud, chastely veiled, was
opening.
âAnother to nail there!â resumed the doctor, pointing to the wall, on
which there was already a row of strangely curious pastels. âBut what
may that represent, I ask you?â
She remained very grave, drawing back a step, the better to contemplate
her work.
âI know nothing about it; it is beautiful.â
At this moment appeared Martine, the only servant, become the real
mistress of the house, after nearly thirty years of service with the
doctor. Although she had passed her sixtieth year, she, too, still
retained a youthful air as she went about, silent and active, in her
eternal black gown and white cap that gave her the look of a nun, with
her small, white, calm face, and lusterless eyes, the light in which
seemed to have been extinguished.
Without speaking, she went and sat down on the floor before an
easy-chair, through a rent in the old covering of which the hair was
escaping, and drawing from her pocket a needle and a skein of worsted,
she set to work to mend it. For three days past she had been waiting for
an hourâs time to do this piece of mending, which haunted her.
âWhile you are about it, Martine,â said Pascal jestingly, taking between
both his hands the mutinous head of Clotilde, âsew me fast, too, this
little noodle, which sometimes wanders off into the clouds.â
Martine raised her pale eyes, and looked at her master with her habitual
air of adoration?
âWhy does monsieur say that?â
âBecause, my good girl, in very truth, I believe it is you who have
stuffed this good little round, clear, strong headpiece full of notions
of the other world, with all your devoutness.â
The two women exchanged a glance of intelligence.
âOh, monsieur! religion has never done any harm to any one. And when
people have not the same ideas, it is certainly better not to talk about
them.â
An embarrassed silence followed; this was the one difference of opinion
which, at times, brought about disagreements among these three united
beings who led so restricted a life. Martine was only twenty-nine, a
year older than the doctor, when she entered his house, at the time when
he made his _debut_ as a physician at Plassans, in a bright little house
of the new town. And thirteen years later, when Saccard, a brother of
Pascal, sent him his daughter Clotilde, aged seven, after his wifeâs
death and at the moment when he was about to marry again, it was she
who brought up the child, taking it to church, and communicating to it
a little of the devout flame with which she had always burned; while the
doctor, who had a broad mind, left them to their joy of believing,
for he did not feel that he had the right to interdict to any one the
happiness of faith; he contented himself later on with watching over
the young girlâs education and giving her clear and sound ideas about
everything. For thirteen years, during which the three had lived this
retired life at La Souleiade, a small property situated in the outskirts
of the town, a quarter of an hourâs walk from St. Saturnin, the
cathedral, his life had flowed happily along, occupied in secret great
works, a little troubled, however, by an ever increasing uneasiness--the
collision, more and more violent, every day, between their beliefs.
Pascal took a few turns gloomily up and down the room. Then, like a man
who did not mince his words, he said:
âSee, my dear, all this phantasmagoria of mystery has turned your pretty
head. Your good God had no need of you; I should have kept you for
myself alone; and you would have been all the better for it.â
But Clotilde, trembling with excitement, her clear eyes fixed boldly
upon his, held her ground.
âIt is you, master, who would be all the better, if you did not shut
yourself up in your eyes of flesh. That is another thing, why do you not
wish to see?â
And Martine came to her assistance, in her own style.
âIndeed, it is true, monsieur, that you, who are a saint, as I say
everywhere, should accompany us to church. Assuredly, God will save
you. But at the bare idea that you should not go straight to paradise, I
tremble all over.â
He paused, for he had before him, in open revolt, those two whom he had
been accustomed to see submissive at his feet, with the tenderness of
women won over by his gaiety and his goodness. Already he opened his
mouth, and was going to answer roughly, when the uselessness of the
discussion became apparent to him.
âThere! Let us have peace. I would do better to go and work. And above
all, let no one interrupt me!â
With hasty steps he gained his chamber, where he had installed a sort of
laboratory, and shut himself up in it. The prohibition to enter it was
formal. It was here that he gave himself up to special preparations, of
which he spoke to no one. Almost immediately the slow and regular sound
of a pestle grinding in a mortar was heard.
âCome,â said Clotilde, smiling, âthere he is, at his devilâs cookery, as
grandmother says.â
And she tranquilly resumed her copying of the hollyhocks. She completed
the drawing with mathematical precision, she found the exact tone of
the violet petals, striped with yellow, even to the most delicate
discoloration of the shades.
âAh!â murmured Martine, after a moment, again seated on the ground, and
occupied in mending the chair, âwhat a misfortune for a good man like
that to lose his soul wilfully. For there is no denying it; I have known
him now for thirty years, and in all that time he has never so much as
spoken an unkind word to any one. A real heart of gold, who would take
the bit from his own mouth. And handsome, too, and always well, and
always gay, a real blessing! It is a murder that he does not wish
to make his peace with the good God. We will force him to do it,
mademoiselle, will we not?â
Clotilde, surprised at hearing her speak so long at one time on the
subject, gave her word with a grave air.
âCertainly, Martine, it is a promise. We will force him.â
Silence reigned again, broken a moment afterward by the ringing of the
bell attached to the street door below. It had been attached to the door
so that they might have notice when any one entered the house, too vast
for the three persons who inhabited it. The servant appeared surprised,
and grumbled a few words under her breath. Who could have come in such
heat as this? She rose, opened the door, and went and leaned over the
balustrade; then she returned, saying:
âIt is Mme. Felicite.â
Old Mme. Rougon entered briskly. In spite of her eighty years, she had
mounted the stairs with the activity of a young girl; she was still the
brown, lean, shrill grasshopper of old. Dressed elegantly now in
black silk, she might still be taken, seen from behind, thanks to the
slenderness of her figure, for some coquette, or some ambitious woman
following her favorite pursuit. Seen in front, her eyes still lighted
up her withered visage with their fires, and she smiled with an engaging
smile when she so desired.
âWhat! is it you, grandmother?â cried Clotilde, going to meet her. âWhy,
this sun is enough to bake one.â
Felicite, kissing her on the forehead, laughed, saying:
âOh, the sun is my friend!â
Then, moving with short, quick steps, she crossed the room, and turned
the fastening of one of the shutters.
âOpen the shutters a little! It is too gloomy to live in the dark in
this way. At my house I let the sun come in.â
Through the opening a jet of hot light, a flood of dancing sparks
entered. And under the sky, of the violet blue of a conflagration, the
parched plain could be seen, stretching away in the distance, as if
asleep or dead in the overpowering, furnace-like heat, while to the
right, above the pink roofs, rose the belfry of St. Saturnin, a gilded
tower with arises that, in the blinding light, looked like whitened
bones.
âYes,â continued Felicite, âI think of going shortly to the Tulettes,
and I wished to know if Charles were here, to take him with me. He is
not here--I see that--I will take him another day.â
But while she gave this pretext for her visit, her ferret-like eyes were
making the tour of the apartment. Besides, she did not insist, speaking
immediately afterward of her son Pascal, on hearing the rhythmical noise
of the pestle, which had not ceased in the adjoining chamber.
âAh! he is still at his devilâs cookery! Donât disturb him, I have
nothing to say to him.â
Martine, who had resumed her work on the chair, shook her head, as if
to say that she had no mind to disturb her master, and there was silence
again, while Clotilde wiped her fingers, stained with crayon, on a
cloth, and Felicite began to walk about the room with short steps,
looking around inquisitively.
Old Mme. Rougon would soon be two years a widow. Her husband who had
grown so corpulent that he could no longer move, had succumbed to an
attack of indigestion on the 3d of September, 1870, on the night of the
day on which he had learned of the catastrophe of Sedan. The ruin of the
government of which he flattered himself with being one of the founders,
seemed to have crushed him. Thus, Felicite affected to occupy herself no
longer with politics, living, thenceforward, like a dethroned queen, the
only surviving power of a vanished world. No one was unaware that the
Rougons, in 1851, had saved Plassans from anarchy, by causing the _coup
dâetat_ of the 2d of December to triumph there, and that, a few
years later, they had won it again from the legitimist and republican
candidates, to give it to a Bonapartist deputy. Up to the time of the
war, the Empire had continued all-powerful in the town, so popular that
it had obtained there at the plebiscite an overwhelming majority. But
since the disasters the town had become republican, the quarter St. Marc
had returned to its secret royalist intrigues, while the old quarter and
the new town had sent to the chamber a liberal representative, slightly
tinged with Orleanism, and ready to take sides with the republic, if
it should triumph. And, therefore, it was that Felicite, like the
intelligent woman she was, had withdrawn her attention from politics,
and consented to be nothing more than the dethroned queen of a fallen
government.
But this was still an exalted position, surrounded by a melancholy
poetry. For eighteen years she had reigned. The tradition of her two
_salons_, the yellow _salon_, in which the _coup dâetat_ had matured,
and the green _salon_, later the neutral ground on which the conquest
of Plassans was completed, embellished itself with the reflection of the
vanished past, and was for her a glorious history. And besides, she was
very rich. Then, too, she had shown herself dignified in her fall, never
uttering a regret or a complaint, parading, with her eighty years,
so long a succession of fierce appetites, of abominable maneuvers, of
inordinate gratifications, that she became august through them. Her only
happiness, now, was to enjoy in peace her large fortune and her past
royalty, and she had but one passion left--to defend her past, to extend
its fame, suppressing everything that might tarnish it later. Her pride,
which lived on the double exploit of which the inhabitants still
spoke, watched with jealous care, resolved to leave in existence only
creditable documents, those traditions which caused her to be saluted
like a fallen queen when she walked through the town.
She went to the door of the chamber and listened to the persistent noise
of the pestle, which did not cease. Then, with an anxious brow, she
returned to Clotilde.
âGood Heavens! What is he making? You know that he is doing himself the
greatest harm with his new drug. I was told, the other day, that he came
near killing one of his patients.â
âOh, grandmother!â cried the young girl.
But she was now launched.
âYes, exactly. The good wives say many other things, besides! Why, go
question them, in the faubourg! They will tell you that he grinds dead
menâs bones in infantsâ blood.â
This time, while even Martine protested, Clotilde, wounded in her
affection, grew angry.
âOh, grandmother, do not repeat such abominations! Master has so great a
heart that he thinks only of making every one happy!â
Then, when she saw that they were both angry, Felicite, comprehending
that she had gone too far, resumed her coaxing manner.
âBut, my kitten, it is not I who say those frightful things. I repeat
to you the stupid reports they spread, so that you may comprehend that
Pascal is wrong to pay no heed to public opinion. He thinks he has found
a new remedy--nothing could be better! and I will even admit that he
will be able to cure everybody, as he hopes. Only, why affect these
mysterious ways; why not speak of the matter openly; why, above all, try
it only on the rabble of the old quarter and of the country, instead of,
attempting among the well-to-do people of the town, striking cures which
would do him honor? No, my child, you see your uncle has never been able
to act like other people.â
She had assumed a grieved tone, lowering her voice, to display the
secret wound of her heart.
âGod be thanked! it is not men of worth who are wanting in our family;
my other sons have given me satisfaction enough. Is it not so? Your
Uncle Eugene rose high enough, minister for twelve years, almost
emperor! And your father himself handled many a million, and had a part
in many a one of the great works which have made Paris a new city. Not
to speak at all of your brother, Maxime, so rich, so distinguished, nor
of your cousin, Octave Mouret, one of the kings of the new commerce, nor
of our dear Abbe Mouret, who is a saint! Well, then, why does Pascal,
who might have followed in the footsteps of them all, persist in living
in his hole, like an eccentric old fool?â
And as the young girl was again going to protest, she closed her mouth,
with a caressing gesture of her hand.
âNo, no, let me finish. I know very well that Pascal is not a fool, that
he has written remarkable works, that his communications to the Academy
of Medicine have even won for him a reputation among _savants_. But what
does that count for, compared to what I have dreamed of for him?
Yes, all the best practice of the town, a large fortune, the
decoration--honors, in short, and a position worthy of the family. My
word! I used to say to him when he was a child: âBut where do you come
from? You are not one of us!â As for me, I have sacrificed everything
for the family; I would let myself be hacked to pieces, that the family
might always be great and glorious!â
She straightened her small figure, she seemed to grow tall with the
one passion that had formed the joy and pride of her life. But as she
resumed her walk, she was startled by suddenly perceiving on the floor
the copy of the _Temps_, which the doctor had thrown there, after
cutting out the article, to add it to the Saccard papers, and the light
from the open window, falling full upon the sheet, enlightened her, no
doubt, for she suddenly stopped walking, and threw herself into a chair,
as if she at last knew what she had come to learn.
âYour father has been appointed editor of the _Epoque_,â she said
abruptly.
âYes,â answered Clotilde tranquilly, âmaster told me so; it was in the
paper.â
With an anxious and attentive expression, Felicite looked at her,
for this appointment of Saccard, this rallying to the republic, was
something of vast significance. After the fall of the empire he had
dared return to France, notwithstanding his condemnation as director of
the Banque Universelle, the colossal fall of which had preceded that
of the government. New influences, some incredible intrigue must have
placed him on his feet again, for not only had he received his pardon,
but he was once more in a position to undertake affairs of considerable
importance, launched into journalism, having his share again of all the
good things going. And the recollection came to her of the quarrels of
other days between him and his brother Eugene Rougon, whom he had so
often compromised, and whom, by an ironical turn of events, he was
perhaps going to protect, now that the former minister of the Empire
was only a simple deputy, resigned to the single role of standing by
his fallen master with the obstinacy with which his mother stood by
her family. She still obeyed docilely the orders of her eldest son, the
genius, fallen though he was; but Saccard, whatever he might do, had
also a part in her heart, from his indomitable determination to succeed,
and she was also proud of Maxime, Clotildeâs brother, who had taken up
his quarters again, after the war, in his mansion in the Avenue of the
Bois de Boulogne, where he was consuming the fortune left him by his
wife, Louise de Mareuil, become prudent, with the wisdom of a man struck
in a vital part, and trying to cheat the paralysis which threatened him.
âEditor of the _Epoque_,â she repeated; âit is really the position of
a minister which your father has won. And I forgot to tell you, I have
written again to your brother, to persuade him to come and see us. That
would divert him, it would do him good. Then, there is that child, that
poor Charles--â
She did not continue. This was another of the wounds from which her
pride bled; a son whom Maxime had had when seventeen by a servant, and
who now, at the age of fifteen, weak of intellect, a half-idiot, lived
at Plassans, going from the house of one to that of another, a burden to
all.
She remained silent a moment longer, waiting for some remark from
Clotilde, some transition by which she might come to the subject she
wished to touch upon. When she saw that the young girl, occupied in
arranging the papers on her desk, was no longer listening, she came to
a sudden decision, after casting a glance at Martine, who continued
mending the chair, as if she were deaf and dumb.
âYour uncle cut the article out of the _Temps_, then?â
Clotilde smiled calmly.
âYes, master put it away among his papers. Ah! how many notes he buries
in there! Births, deaths, the smallest event in life, everything goes in
there. And the genealogical tree is there also, our famous genealogical
tree, which he keeps up to date!â
The eyes of old Mme. Rougon flamed. She looked fixedly at the young
girl.
âYou know them, those papers?â
âOh, no, grandmother; master has never spoken to me of them; and he has
forbidden me to touch them.â
But she did not believe her.
âCome! you have them under your hands, you must have read them.â
Very simple, with her calm rectitude, Clotilde answered, smilingly
again.
âNo, when master forbids me to do anything, it is because he has his
reasons, and I do not do it.â
âWell, my child,â cried Felicite vehemently, dominated by her passion,
âyou, whom Pascal loves tenderly, and whom he would listen to, perhaps,
you ought to entreat him to burn all that, for if he should chance to
die, and those frightful things which he has in there were to be found,
we should all be dishonored!â
Ah, those abominable papers! she saw them at night, in her nightmares,
revealing in letters of fire, the true histories, the physiological
blemishes of the family, all that wrong side of her glory which she
would have wished to bury forever with the ancestors already dead! She
knew how it was that the doctor had conceived the idea of collecting
these documents at the beginning of his great studies on heredity; how
he had found himself led to take his own family as an example, struck by
the typical cases which he saw in it, and which helped to support laws
discovered by him. Was it not a perfectly natural field of observation,
close at hand and with which he was thoroughly familiar? And with the
fine, careless justness of the scientist, he had been accumulating for
the last thirty years the most private data, collecting and classifying
everything, raising this genealogical tree of the Rougon-Macquarts,
of which the voluminous papers, crammed full of proofs, were only the
commentary.
âAh, yes,â continued Mme. Rougon hotly, âto the fire, to the fire with
all those papers that would tarnish our name!â
And as the servant rose to leave the room, seeing the turn the
conversation was taking, she stopped her by a quick gesture.
âNo, no, Martine; stay! You are not in the way, since you are now one of
the family.â
Then, in a hissing voice:
âA collection of falsehoods, of gossip, all the lies that our enemies,
enraged by our triumph, hurled against us in former days! Think a little
of that, my child. Against all of us, against your father, against your
mother, against your brother, all those horrors!â
âBut how do you know they are horrors, grandmother?â
She was disconcerted for a moment.
âOh, well; I suspect it! Where is the family that has not had
misfortunes which might be injuriously interpreted? Thus, the mother of
us all, that dear and venerable Aunt Dide, your great-grandmother,
has she not been for the past twenty-one years in the madhouse at the
Tulettes? If God has granted her the grace of allowing her to live to
the age of one hundred and four years, he has also cruelly afflicted her
in depriving her of her reason. Certainly, there is no shame in that;
only, what exasperates me--what must not be--is that they should say
afterward that we are all mad. And, then, regarding your grand-uncle
Macquart, too, deplorable rumors have been spread. Macquart had his
faults in past days, I do not seek to defend him. But to-day, is he not
living very reputably on his little property at the Tulettes, two steps
away from our unhappy mother, over whom he watches like a good son? And
listen! one last example. Your brother, Maxime, committed a great fault
when he had by a servant that poor little Charles, and it is certain,
besides, that the unhappy child is of unsound mind. No matter. Will
it please you if they tell you that your nephew is degenerate; that he
reproduces from four generations back, his great-great-grandmother the
dear woman to whom we sometimes take him, and with whom he likes so much
to be? No! there is no longer any family possible, if people begin to
lay bare everything--the nerves of this one, the muscles of that. It is
enough to disgust one with living!â
Clotilde, standing in her long black blouse, had listened to her
grandmother attentively. She had grown very serious; her arms hung by
her sides, her eyes were fixed upon the ground. There was silence for a
moment; then she said slowly:
âIt is science, grandmother.â
âScience!â cried Felicite, trotting about again. âA fine thing, their
science, that goes against all that is most sacred in the world! When
they shall have demolished everything they will have advanced greatly!
They kill respect, they kill the family, they kill the good God!â
âOh! donât say that, madame!â interrupted Martine, in a grieved voice,
her narrow devoutness wounded. âDo not say that M. Pascal kills the good
God!â
âYes, my poor girl, he kills him. And look you, it is a crime, from the
religious point of view, to let oneâs self be damned in that way. You do
not love him, on my word of honor! No, you do not love him, you two who
have the happiness of believing, since you do nothing to bring him back
to the right path. Ah! if I were in your place, I would split that press
open with a hatchet. I would make a famous bonfire with all the insults
to the good God which it contains!â
She had planted herself before the immense press and was measuring
it with her fiery glance, as if to take it by assault, to sack it, to
destroy it, in spite of the withered and fragile thinness of her eighty
years. Then, with a gesture of ironical disdain:
âIf, even with his science, he could know everything!â
Clotilde remained for a moment absorbed in thought, her gaze lost in
vacancy. Then she said in an undertone, as if speaking to herself:
âIt is true, he cannot know everything. There is always something else
below. That is what irritates me; that is what makes us quarrel: for I
cannot, like him, put the mystery aside. I am troubled by it, so much
so that I suffer cruelly. Below, what wills and acts in the shuddering
darkness, all the unknown forces--â
Her voice had gradually become lower and now dropped to an indistinct
murmur.
Then Martine, whose face for a moment past had worn a somber expression,
interrupted in her turn:
âIf it was true, however, mademoiselle, that monsieur would be damned on
account of those villainous papers, tell me, ought we to let it happen?
For my part, look you, if he were to tell me to throw myself down from
the terrace, I would shut my eyes and throw myself, because I know that
he is always right. But for his salvation! Oh! if I could, I would work
for that, in spite of him. In every way, yes! I would force him; it is
too cruel to me to think that he will not be in heaven with us.â
âYou are quite right, my girl,â said Felicite approvingly. âYou, at
least, love your master in an intelligent fashion.â
Between the two, Clotilde still seemed irresolute. In her, belief did
not bend to the strict rule of dogma; the religious sentiment did not
materialize in the hope of a paradise, of a place of delights, where she
was to meet her own again. It was in her simply a need of a beyond, a
certainty that the vast world does not stop short at sensation, that
there is a whole unknown world, besides, which must be taken into
account. But her grandmother, who was so old, this servant, who was so
devoted, shook her in her uneasy affection for her uncle. Did they not
love him better, in a more enlightened and more upright fashion, they
who desired him to be without a stain, freed from his manias as a
scientist, pure enough to be among the elect? Phrases of devotional
books recurred to her; the continual battle waged against the spirit of
evil; the glory of conversions effected after a violent struggle. What
if she set herself to this holy task; what if, after all, in spite of
himself, she should be able to save him! And an exaltation gradually
gained her spirit, naturally inclined to adventurous enterprises.
âCertainly,â she said at last, âI should be very happy if he would not
persist in his notion of heaping up all those scraps of paper, and if he
would come to church with us.â
Seeing her about to yield, Mme. Rougon cried out that it was necessary
to act, and Martine herself added the weight of all her real authority.
They both approached the young girl, and began to instruct her, lowering
their voices as if they were engaged in a conspiracy, whence was to
result a miraculous benefit, a divine joy with which the whole house
would be perfumed. What a triumph if they reconciled the doctor with
God! and what sweetness, afterward, to live altogether in the celestial
communion of the same faith!
âWell, then, what must I do?â asked Clotilde, vanquished, won over.
But at this moment the doctorâs pestle was heard in the silence, with
its continued rhythm. And the victorious Felicite, who was about to
speak, turned her head uneasily, and looked for a moment at the door of
the adjoining chamber. Then, in an undertone, she said:
âDo you know where the key of the press is?â
Clotilde answered only with an artless gesture, that expressed all her
repugnance to betray her master in this way.
âWhat a child you are! I swear to you that I will take nothing; I will
not even disturb anything. Only as we are alone and as Pascal never
reappears before dinner, we might assure ourselves of what there is in
there, might we not? Oh! nothing but a glance, on my word of honor.â
The young girl stood motionless, unwilling, still, to give her consent.
âAnd then, it may be that I am mistaken; no doubt there are none of
those bad things there that I have told you of.â
This was decisive; she ran to take the key from the drawer, and she
herself opened wide the press.
âThere, grandmother, the papers are up there.â
Martine had gone, without a word, to station herself at the door of the
doctorâs chamber, her ear on the alert, listening to the pestle, while
Felicite, as if riveted to the spot by emotion, regarded the papers. At
last, there they were, those terrible documents, the nightmare that had
poisoned her life! She saw them, she was going to touch them, to
carry them away! And she reached up, straining her little legs, in the
eagerness of her desire.
âIt is too high, my kitten,â she said. âHelp me; give them to me!â
âOh! not that, grandmother! Take a chair!â
Felicite took a chair, and mounted slowly upon it. But she was still too
short. By an extraordinary effort she raised herself, lengthening her
stature until she was able to touch the envelopes of strong blue paper
with the tips of her fingers; and her fingers traveled over them,
contracting nervously, scratching like claws. Suddenly there was a
crash--it was a geological specimen, a fragment of marble that had been
on a lower shelf, and that she had just thrown down.
Instantly the pestle stopped, and Martine said in a stifled voice:
âTake care; here he comes!â
But Felicite, grown desperate, did not hear, did not let go her hold
when Pascal entered hastily. He had supposed that some accident had
happened, that some one had fallen, and he stood stupefied at what he
saw--his mother on the chair, her arm still in the air, while Martine
had withdrawn to one side, and Clotilde, very pale, stood waiting,
without turning her head. When he comprehended the scene, he himself
became as white as a sheet. A terrible anger arose within him.
Old Mme. Rougon, however, troubled herself in no wise. When she saw that
the opportunity was lost, she descended from the chair, without making
any illusion whatever to the task at which he had surprised her.
âOh, it is you! I do not wish to disturb you. I came to embrace
Clotilde. But here I have been talking for nearly two hours, and I must
run away at once. They will be expecting me at home; they wonât know
what has become of me at this hour. Good-by until Sunday.â
She went away quite at her ease, after smiling at her son, who stood
before her silent and respectful. It was an attitude that he had long
since adopted, to avoid an explanation which he felt must be cruel, and
which he had always feared. He knew her, he was willing to pardon her
everything, in his broad tolerance as a scientist, who made allowance
for heredity, environment, and circumstances. And, then, was she not
his mother? That ought to have sufficed, for, in spite of the frightful
blows which his researches inflicted upon the family, he preserved a
great affection for those belonging to him.
When his mother was no longer there, his anger burst forth, and fell
upon Clotilde. He had turned his eyes away from Martine, and fixed them
on the young girl, who did not turn hers away, however, with a courage
which accepted the responsibility of her act.
âYou! you!â he said at last.
He seized her arm, and pressed it until she cried. But she continued
to look him full in the face, without quailing before him, with
the indomitable will of her individuality, of her selfhood. She was
beautiful and provoking, with her tall, slender figure, robed in
its black blouse; and her exquisite, youthful fairness, her straight
forehead, her finely cut nose, her firm chin, took on something of a
warlike charm in her rebellion.
âYou, whom I have made, you who are my pupil, my friend, my other mind,
to whom I have given a part of my heart and of my brain! Ah, yes! I
should have kept you entirely for myself, and not have allowed your
stupid good God to take the best part of you!â
âOh, monsieur, you blaspheme!â cried Martine, who had approached him, in
order to draw upon herself a part of his anger.
But he did not even see her. Only Clotilde existed for him. And he was
as if transfigured, stirred up by so great a passion that his handsome
face, crowned by his white hair, framed by his white beard, flamed with
youthful passion, with an immense tenderness that had been wounded and
exasperated.
âYou, you!â he repeated in a trembling voice.
âYes, I! Why then, master, should I not love you better than you love
me? And why, if I believe you to be in peril, should I not try to save
you? You are greatly concerned about what I think; you would like well
to make me think as you do!â
She had never before defied him in this way.
âBut you are a little girl; you know nothing!â
âNo, I am a soul, and you know no more about souls than I do!â
He released her arm, and waved his hand vaguely toward heaven, and
then a great silence fell--a silence full of grave meaning, of the
uselessness of the discussion which he did not wish to enter upon.
Thrusting her aside rudely, he crossed over to the middle window and
opened the blinds, for the sun was declining, and the room was growing
dark. Then he returned.
But she, feeling a need of air and space, went to the open window. The
burning rain of sparks had ceased, and there fell now, from on high,
only the last shiver of the overheated and paling sky; and from the
still burning earth ascended warm odors, with the freer respiration of
evening. At the foot of the terrace was the railroad, with the outlying
dependencies of the station, of which the buildings were to be seen in
the distance; then, crossing the vast arid plain, a line of trees marked
the course of the Viorne, beyond which rose the hills of Sainte-Marthe,
red fields planted with olive trees, supported on terraces by walls of
uncemented stones and crowned by somber pine woods--broad amphitheaters,
bare and desolate, corroded by the heats of summer, of the color of old
baked brick, which this fringe of dark verdure, standing out against the
background of the sky, bordered above. To the left opened the gorges of
the Seille, great yellow stones that had broken away from the soil, and
lay in the midst of blood-colored fields, dominated by an immense band
of rocks like the wall of a gigantic fortress; while to the right, at
the very entrance to the valley through which flowed the Viorne, rose,
one above another, the discolored pink-tiled roofs of the town of
Plassans, the compact and confused mass of an old town, pierced by the
tops of ancient elms, and dominated by the high tower of St. Saturnin,
solitary and serene at this hour in the limpid gold of sunset.
âAh, my God!â said Clotilde slowly, âone must be arrogant, indeed, to
imagine that one can take everything in oneâs hand and know everything!â
Pascal had just mounted on the chair to assure himself that not one of
his packages was missing. Then he took up the fragment of marble, and
replaced it on the shelf, and when he had again locked the press with a
vigorous turn of the hand, he put the key into his pocket.
âYes,â he replied; âtry not to know everything, and above all, try
not to bewilder your brain about what we do not know, what we shall
doubtless never know!â
Martine again approached Clotilde, to lend her her support, to show her
that they both had a common cause. And now the doctor perceived her,
also, and felt that they were both united in the same desire for
conquest. After years of secret attempts, it was at last open war; the
_savant_ saw his household turn against his opinions, and menace them
with destruction. There is no worse torture than to have treason in
oneâs own home, around one; to be trapped, dispossessed, crushed, by
those whom you love, and who love you!
Suddenly this frightful idea presented itself to him.
âAnd yet both of you love me!â he cried.
He saw their eyes grow dim with tears; he was filled with an infinite
sadness, on this tranquil close of a beautiful day. All his gaiety, all
his kindness of heart, which came from his intense love of life, were
shaken by it.
âAh, my dear! and you, my poor girl,â he said, âyou are doing this for
my happiness, are you not? But, alas, how unhappy we are going to be!â
II.
On the following morning Clotilde was awake at six oâclock. She had gone
to bed angry with Pascal; they were at variance with each other. And her
first feeling was one of uneasiness, of secret distress, an instant need
of making her peace, so that she might no longer have upon her heart the
heavy weight that lay there now.
Springing quickly out of bed, she went and half opened the shutters of
both windows. The sun, already high, sent his light across the chamber
in two golden bars. Into this drowsy room that exhaled a sweet odor of
youth, the bright morning brought with it fresh, cheerful air; but the
young girl went back and sat down on the edge of the bed in a thoughtful
attitude, clad only in her scant nightdress, which made her look still
more slender, with her long tapering limbs, her strong, slender body,
with its round throat, round neck, round and supple arms; and her
adorable neck and throat, of a milky whiteness, had the exquisite
softness and smoothness of white satin. For a long time, at the
ungraceful age between twelve and eighteen, she had looked awkwardly
tall, climbing trees like a boy. Then, from the ungainly hoyden had been
evolved this charming, delicate and lovely creature.
With absent gaze she sat looking at the walls of the chamber. Although
La Souleiade dated from the last century, it must have been refurnished
under the First Empire, for it was hung with an old-fashioned printed
calico, with a pattern representing busts of the Sphinx, and garlands
of oak leaves. Originally of a bright red, this calico had faded to a
pink--an undecided pink, inclining to orange. The curtains of the
two windows and of the bed were still in existence, but it had been
necessary to clean them, and this had made them still paler. And this
faded purple, this dawnlike tint, so delicately soft, was in truth
exquisite. As for the bed, covered with the same stuff, it had come down
from so remote an antiquity that it had been replaced by another bed
found in an adjoining room; another Empire bed, low and very broad,
of massive mahogany, ornamented with brasses, its four square pillars
adorned also with busts of the Sphinx, like those on the wall. The
rest of the furniture matched, however--a press, with whole doors and
pillars; a chest of drawers with a marble top, surrounded by a railing;
a tall and massive cheval-glass, a large lounge with straight feet, and
seats with straight, lyre-shaped backs. But a coverlet made of an old
Louis XV. silk skirt brightened the majestic bed, that occupied the
middle of the wall fronting the windows; a heap of cushions made the
lounge soft; and there were, besides, two _etageres_ and a table also
covered with old flowered silk, at the further end of the room.
Clotilde at last put on her stockings and slipped on a morning gown of
white _pique_, and thrusting the tips of her feet into her gray canvas
slippers, she ran into her dressing-room, a back room looking out on the
rear of the house. She had had it hung plainly with an _ecru_ drill with
blue stripes, and it contained only furniture of varnished pine--the
toilette table, two presses, and two chairs. It revealed, however, a
natural and delicate coquetry which was very feminine. This had grown
with her at the same time with her beauty. Headstrong and boyish though
she still was at times, she had become a submissive and affectionate
woman, desiring to be loved, above everything. The truth was that she
had grown up in freedom, without having learned anything more than to
read and write, having acquired by herself, later, while assisting her
uncle, a vast fund of information. But there had been no plan settled
upon between them. He had not wished to make her a prodigy; she had
merely conceived a passion for natural history, which revealed to her
the mysteries of life. And she had kept her innocence unsullied like a
fruit which no hand has touched, thanks, no doubt, to her unconscious
and religious waiting for the coming of love--that profound feminine
feeling which made her reserve the gift of her whole being for the man
whom she should love.
She pushed back her hair and bathed her face; then, yielding to her
impatience, she again softly opened the door of her chamber and ventured
to cross the vast workroom, noiselessly and on tiptoe. The shutters were
still closed, but she could see clearly enough not to stumble against
the furniture. When she was at the other end before the door of the
doctorâs room, she bent forward, holding her breath. Was he already up?
What could he be doing? She heard him plainly, walking about with short
steps, dressing himself, no doubt. She never entered this chamber in
which he chose to hide certain labors; and which thus remained closed,
like a tabernacle. One fear had taken possession of her; that of being
discovered here by him if he should open the door; and the agitation
produced by the struggle between her rebellious pride and a desire
to show her submission caused her to grow hot and cold by turns, with
sensations until now unknown to her. For an instant her desire for
reconciliation was so strong that she was on the point of knocking.
Then, as footsteps approached, she ran precipitately away.
Until eight oâclock Clotilde was agitated by an ever-increasing
impatience. At every instant she looked at the clock on the mantelpiece
of her room; an Empire clock of gilded bronze, representing Love leaning
against a pillar, contemplating Time asleep.
Eight was the hour at which she generally descended to the dining-room
to breakfast with the doctor. And while waiting she made a careful
toilette, arranged her hair, and put on another morning gown of white
muslin with red spots. Then, having still a quarter of an hour on her
hands, she satisfied an old desire and sat down to sew a piece of narrow
lace, an imitation of Chantilly, on her working blouse, that black
blouse which she had begun to find too boyish, not feminine enough.
But on the stroke of eight she laid down her work, and went downstairs
quickly.
âYou are going to breakfast entirely alone,â said Martine tranquilly to
her, when she entered the dining-room.
âHow is that?â
âYes, the doctor called me, and I passed him in his egg through the
half-open door. There he is again, at his mortar and his filter. We
wonât see him now before noon.â
Clotilde turned pale with disappointment. She drank her milk standing,
took her roll in her hand, and followed the servant into the
kitchen. There were on the ground floor, besides this kitchen and the
dining-room, only an uninhabited room in which the potatoes were stored,
and which had formerly been used as an office by the doctor, when he
received his patients in his house--the desk and the armchair had years
ago been taken up to his chamber--and another small room, which opened
into the kitchen; the old servantâs room, scrupulously clean, and
furnished with a walnut chest of drawers and a bed like a nunâs with
white hangings.
âDo you think he has begun to make his liquor again?â asked Clotilde.
âWell, it can be only that. You know that he thinks of neither eating
nor drinking when that takes possession of him!â
Then all the young girlâs vexation was exhaled in a low plaint:
âAh, my God! my God!â
And while Martine went to make up her room, she took an umbrella from
the hall stand and went disconsolately to eat her roll in the garden,
not knowing now how she should occupy her time until midday.
It was now almost seventeen years since Dr. Pascal, having resolved
to leave his little house in the new town, had bought La Souleiade for
twenty thousand francs, in order to live there in seclusion, and also
to give more space and more happiness to the little girl sent him by his
brother Saccard from Paris. This Souleiade, situated outside the town
gates on a plateau dominating the plain, was part of a large estate
whose once vast grounds were reduced to less than two hectares in
consequence of successive sales, without counting that the construction
of the railroad had taken away the last arable fields. The house itself
had been half destroyed by a conflagration and only one of the two
buildings remained--a quadrangular wing âof four walls,â as they say in
Provence, with five front windows and roofed with large pink tiles.
And the doctor, who had bought it completely furnished, had contented
himself with repairing it and finishing the boundary walls, so as to be
undisturbed in his house.
Generally Clotilde loved this solitude passionately; this narrow
kingdom which she could go over in ten minutes, and which still retained
remnants of its past grandeur. But this morning she brought there
something like a nervous disquietude. She walked for a few moments along
the terrace, at the two extremities of which stood two secular cypresses
like two enormous funeral tapers, which could be seen three leagues off.
The slope then descended to the railroad, walls of uncemented stones
supporting the red earth, in which the last vines were dead; and on
these giant steps grew only rows of olive and almond trees, with sickly
foliage. The heat was already overpowering; she saw the little lizards
running about on the disjointed flags, among the hairy tufts of caper
bushes.
Then, as if irritated by the vast horizon, she crossed the orchard and
the kitchen garden, which Martine still persisted in cultivating in
spite of her age, calling in a man only twice a week for the heavier
labors; and she ascended to a little pine wood on the right, all that
remained of the superb pines which had formerly covered the plateau;
but, here, too, she was ill at ease; the pine needles crackled under her
feet, a resinous, stifling odor descended from the branches. And walking
along the boundary wall past the entrance gate, which opened on the
road to Les Fenouilleres, three hundred meters from the first houses of
Plassans, she emerged at last on the threshing-yard; an immense yard,
fifteen meters in radius, which would of itself have sufficed to prove
the former importance of the domain. Ah! this antique area, paved with
small round stones, as in the days of the Romans; this species of vast
esplanade, covered with short dry grass of the color of gold as with a
thick woolen carpet; how joyously she had played there in other days,
running about, rolling on the grass, lying for hours on her back,
watching the stars coming out one by one in the depths of the
illimitable sky!
She opened her umbrella again, and crossed the yard with slower steps.
Now she was on the left of the terrace. She had made the tour of the
estate, so that she had returned by the back of the house, through the
clump of enormous plane trees that on this side cast a thick shade. This
was the side on which opened the two windows of the doctorâs room. And
she raised her eyes to them, for she had approached only in the sudden
hope of at last seeing him. But the windows remained closed, and she
was wounded by this as by an unkindness to herself. Then only did
she perceive that she still held in her hand her roll, which she had
forgotten to eat; and she plunged among the trees, biting it impatiently
with her fine young teeth.
It was a delicious retreat, this old quincunx of plane trees, another
remnant of the past splendor of La Souleiade. Under these giant trees,
with their monstrous trunks, there was only a dim light, a greenish
light, exquisitely cool, even on the hottest days of summer. Formerly
a French garden had been laid out here, of which only the box borders
remained; bushes which had habituated themselves to the shade, no doubt,
for they grew vigorously, as tall as trees. And the charm of this
shady nook was a fountain, a simple leaden pipe fixed in the shaft of
a column; whence flowed perpetually, even in the greatest drought, a
thread of water as thick as the little finger, which supplied a large
mossy basin, the greenish stones of which were cleaned only once in
three or four years. When all the wells of the neighborhood were dry,
La Souleiade still kept its spring, of which the great plane trees were
assuredly the secular children. Night and day for centuries past this
slender thread of water, unvarying and continuous, had sung the same
pure song with crystal sound.
Clotilde, after wandering awhile among the bushes of box, which reached
to her shoulder, went back to the house for a piece of embroidery, and
returning with it, sat down at a stone table beside the fountain. Some
garden chairs had been placed around it, and they often took coffee
here. And after this she affected not to look up again from her work,
as if she was completely absorbed in it. Now and then, while seeming to
look between the trunks of trees toward the sultry distance, toward the
yard, on which the sun blazed fiercely and which glowed like a brazier,
she stole a glance from under her long lashes up to the doctorâs
windows. Nothing appeared, not a shadow. And a feeling of sadness, of
resentment, arose within her at this neglect, this contempt in which he
seemed to hold her after their quarrel of the day before. She who had
got up with so great a desire to make peace at once! He was in no hurry,
however; he did not love her then, since he could be satisfied to live
at variance with her. And gradually a feeling of gloom took possession
of her, her rebellious thoughts returned, and she resolved anew to yield
in nothing.
At eleven oâclock, before setting her breakfast on the fire, Martine
came to her for a moment, the eternal stocking in her hand which she
was always knitting even while walking, when she was not occupied in the
affairs of the house.
âDo you know that he is still shut up there like a wolf in his hole, at
his villainous cookery?â
Clotilde shrugged her shoulders, without lifting her eyes from her
embroidery.
âAnd then, mademoiselle, if you only knew what they say! Mme. Felicite
was right yesterday when she said that it was really enough to make one
blush. They threw it in my face that he had killed old Boutin, that
poor old man, you know, who had the falling sickness and who died on
the road. To believe those women of the faubourg, every one into whom he
injects his remedy gets the true cholera from it, without counting that
they accuse him of having taken the devil into partnership.â
A short silence followed. Then, as the young girl became more gloomy
than before, the servant resumed, moving her fingers still more rapidly:
âAs for me, I know nothing about the matter, but what he is making there
enrages me. And you, mademoiselle, do you approve of that cookery?â
At last Clotilde raised her head quickly, yielding to the flood of
passion that swept over her.
âListen; I wish to know no more about it than you do, but I think that
he is on a very dangerous path. He no longer loves us.â
âOh, yes, mademoiselle; he loves us.â
âNo, no; not as we love him. If he loved us, he would be here with us,
instead of endangering his soul and his happiness and ours, up there, in
his desire to save everybody.â
And the two women looked at each other for a moment with eyes burning
with affection, in their jealous anger. Then they resumed their work in
silence, enveloped in shadow.
Above, in his room, Dr. Pascal was working with the serenity of perfect
joy. He had practised his profession for only about a dozen years, from
his return to Paris up to the time when he had retired to La Souleiade.
Satisfied with the hundred and odd thousand francs which he had
earned and which he had invested prudently, he devoted himself almost
exclusively to his favorite studies, retaining only a practise among
friends, never refusing to go to the bedside of a patient but never
sending in his account. When he was paid he threw the money into a
drawer in his writing desk, regarding this as pocket-money for his
experiments and caprices, apart from his income which sufficed for his
wants. And he laughed at the bad reputation for eccentricity which his
way of life had gained him; he was happy only when in the midst of his
researches on the subjects for which he had a passion. It was matter for
surprise to many that this scientist, whose intellectual gifts had been
spoiled by a too lively imagination, should have remained at Plassans,
this out-of-the-way town where it seemed as if every requirement for his
studies must be wanting. But he explained very well the advantages which
he had discovered here; in the first place, an utterly peaceful
retreat in which he might live the secluded life he desired; then, an
unsuspected field for continuous research in the light of the facts of
heredity, which was his passion, in this little town where he knew every
family and where he could follow the phenomena kept most secret, through
two or three generations. And then he was near the seashore; he went
there almost every summer, to study the swarming life that is born
and propagates itself in the depths of the vast waters. And there was
finally, at the hospital in Plassans, a dissecting room to which he was
almost the only visitor; a large, bright, quiet room, in which for more
than twenty years every unclaimed body had passed under his scalpel. A
modest man besides, of a timidity that had long since become shyness,
it had been sufficient for him to maintain a correspondence with his old
professors and his new friends, concerning the very remarkable papers
which he from time to time sent to the Academy of Medicine. He was
altogether wanting in militant ambition.
Ah, this heredity! what a subject of endless meditation it was for him!
The strangest, the most wonderful part of it all, was it not that
the resemblance between parents and children should not be perfect,
mathematically exact? He had in the beginning made a genealogical tree
of his family, logically traced, in which the influences from generation
to generation were distributed equally--the fatherâs part and the
motherâs part. But the living reality contradicted the theory almost
at every point. Heredity, instead of being resemblance, was an effort
toward resemblance thwarted by circumstances and environment. And he had
arrived at what he called the hypothesis of the abortion of cells. Life
is only motion, and heredity being a communicated motion, it happened
that the cells in their multiplication from one another jostled one
another, pressed one another, made room for themselves, putting forth,
each one, the hereditary effort; so that if during this struggle the
weaker cells succumbed, considerable disturbances took place, with
the final result of organs totally different. Did not variation, the
constant invention of nature, which clashed with his theories, come from
this? Did not he himself differ from his parents only in consequence of
similar accidents, or even as the effect of larvated heredity, in which
he had for a time believed? For every genealogical tree has roots which
extend as far back into humanity as the first man; one cannot proceed
from a single ancestor; one may always resemble a still older, unknown
ancestor. He doubted atavism, however; it seemed to him, in spite of a
remarkable example taken from his own family, that resemblance at the
end of two or three generations must disappear by reason of accidents,
of interferences, of a thousand possible combinations. There was then
a perpetual becoming, a constant transformation in this communicated
effort, this transmitted power, this shock which breathes into matter
the breath of life, and which is life itself. And a multiplicity
of questions presented themselves to him. Was there a physical and
intellectual progress through the ages? Did the brain grow with the
growth of the sciences with which it occupied itself? Might one hope,
in time, for a larger sum of reason and of happiness? Then there were
special problems; one among others, the mystery of which had for a long
time irritated him, that of sex; would science never be able to predict,
or at least to explain the sex of the embryo being? He had written a
very curious paper crammed full of facts on this subject, but which left
it in the end in the complete ignorance in which the most exhaustive
researches had left it. Doubtless the question of heredity fascinated
him as it did only because it remained obscure, vast, and unfathomable,
like all the infant sciences where imagination holds sway. Finally, a
long study which he had made on the heredity of phthisis revived in him
the wavering faith of the healer, arousing in him the noble and wild
hope of regenerating humanity.
In short, Dr. Pascal had only one belief--the belief in life. Life was
the only divine manifestation. Life was God, the grand motor, the
soul of the universe. And life had no other instrument than heredity;
heredity made the world; so that if its laws could be known and
directed, the world could be made to oneâs will. In him, to whom
sickness, suffering, and death had been a familiar sight, the militant
pity of the physician awoke. Ah! to have no more sickness, no more
suffering, as little death as possible! His dream ended in this
thought--that universal happiness, the future community of perfection
and of felicity, could be hastened by intervention, by giving health to
all. When all should be healthy, strong, and intelligent, there would
be only a superior race, infinitely wise and happy. In India, was not
a Brahmin developed from a Soudra in seven generations, thus raising,
experimentally, the lowest of beings to the highest type of humanity?
And as in his study of consumption he had arrived at the conclusion that
it was not hereditary, but that every child of a consumptive carried
within him a degenerate soil in which consumption developed with
extraordinary facility at the slightest contagion, he had come to think
only of invigorating this soil impoverished by heredity; to give it
the strength to resist the parasites, or rather the destructive leaven,
which he had suspected to exist in the organism, long before the microbe
theory. To give strength--the whole problem was there; and to give
strength was also to give will, to enlarge the brain by fortifying the
other organs.
About this time the doctor, reading an old medical book of the fifteenth
century, was greatly struck by a method of treating disease called
signature. To cure a diseased organ, it was only necessary to take from
a sheep or an ox the corresponding organ in sound condition, boil it,
and give the soup to the patient to drink. The theory was to cure like
by like, and in diseases of the liver, especially, the old work stated
that the cures were numberless. This set the doctorâs vivid imagination
working. Why not make the trial? If he wished to regenerate those
enfeebled by hereditary influences, he had only to give them the normal
and healthy nerve substance. The method of the soup, however, seemed to
him childish, and he invented in its stead that of grinding in a mortar
the brain of a sheep, moistening it with distilled water, and then
decanting and filtering the liquor thus obtained. He tried this liquor
then mixed with Malaga wine, on his patients, without obtaining any
appreciable result. Suddenly, as he was beginning to grow discouraged,
he had an inspiration one day, when he was giving a lady suffering
from hepatic colics an injection of morphine with the little syringe of
Pravaz. What if he were to try hypodermic injections with his liquor?
And as soon as he returned home he tried the experiment on himself,
making an injection in his side, which he repeated night and morning.
The first doses, of a gram only, were without effect. But having
doubled, and then tripled the dose, he was enchanted, one morning on
getting up, to find that his limbs had all the vigor of twenty. He went
on increasing the dose up to five grams, and then his respiration became
deeper, and above all he worked with a clearness of mind, an ease,
which he had not known for years. A great flood of happiness, of joy in
living, inundated his being. From this time, after he had had a syringe
made at Paris capable of containing five grams, he was surprised at the
happy results which he obtained with his patients, whom he had on their
feet again in a few days, full of energy and activity, as if endowed
with new life. His method was still tentative and rude, and he divined
in it all sorts of dangers, and especially, that of inducing embolism,
if the liquor was not perfectly pure. Then he suspected that the
strength of his patients came in part from the fever his treatment
produced in them. But he was only a pioneer; the method would improve
later. Was it not already a miracle to make the ataxic walk, to bring
consumptives back to life, as it were; even to give hours of lucidity to
the insane? And at the thought of this discovery of the alchemy of the
twentieth century, an immense hope opened up before him; he believed he
had discovered the universal panacea, the elixir of life, which was
to combat human debility, the one real cause of every ill; a veritable
scientific Fountain of Youth, which, in giving vigor, health, and will
would create an altogether new and superior humanity.
This particular morning in his chamber, a room with a northern aspect
and somewhat dark owing to the vicinity of the plane trees, furnished
simply with an iron bedstead, a mahogany writing desk, and a large
writing table, on which were a mortar and a microscope, he was
completing with infinite care the preparation of a vial of his liquor.
Since the day before, after pounding the nerve substance of a sheep in
distilled water, he had been decanting and filtering it. And he had
at last obtained a small bottle of a turbid, opaline liquid, irised by
bluish gleams, which he regarded for a long time in the light as if he
held in his hand the regenerating blood and symbol of the world.
But a few light knocks at the door and an urgent voice drew him from his
dream.
âWhy, what is the matter, monsieur? It is a quarter-past twelve; donât
you intend to come to breakfast?â
For downstairs breakfast had been waiting for some time past in the
large, cool dining-room. The blinds were closed, with the exception of
one which had just been half opened. It was a cheerful room, with pearl
gray panels relieved by blue mouldings. The table, the sideboard, and
the chairs must have formed part of the set of Empire furniture in
the bedrooms; and the old mahogany, of a deep red, stood out in strong
relief against the light background. A hanging lamp of polished brass,
always shining, gleamed like a sun; while on the four walls bloomed four
large bouquets in pastel, of gillyflowers, carnations, hyacinths, and
roses.
Joyous, radiant, Dr. Pascal entered.
âAh, the deuce! I had forgotten! I wanted to finish. Look at this, quite
fresh, and perfectly pure this time; something to work miracles with!â
And he showed the vial, which he had brought down in his enthusiasm. But
his eye fell on Clotilde standing erect and silent, with a serious
air. The secret vexation caused by waiting had brought back all her
hostility, and she, who had burned to throw herself on his neck in the
morning, remained motionless as if chilled and repelled by him.
âGood!â he resumed, without losing anything of his gaiety, âwe are still
at odds, it seems. That is something very ugly. So you donât admire my
sorcererâs liquor, which resuscitates the dead?â
He seated himself at the table, and the young girl, sitting down
opposite him, was obliged at last to answer:
âYou know well, master, that I admire everything belonging to you. Only,
my most ardent desire is that others also should admire you. And there
is the death of poor old Boutin--â
âOh!â he cried, without letting her finish, âan epileptic, who succumbed
to a congestive attack! See! since you are in a bad humor, let us talk
no more about that--you would grieve me, and that would spoil my day.â
There were soft boiled eggs, cutlets, and cream. Silence reigned for a
few moments, during which in spite of her ill-humor she ate heartily,
with a good appetite which she had not the coquetry to conceal. Then he
resumed, laughing:
âWhat reassures me is to see that your stomach is in good order.
Martine, hand mademoiselle the bread.â
The servant waited on them as she was accustomed to do, watching them
eat, with her quiet air of familiarity.
Sometimes she even chatted with them.
âMonsieur,â she said, when she had cut the bread, âthe butcher has
brought his bill. Is he to be paid?â
He looked up at her in surprise.
âWhy do you ask me that?â he said. âDo you not always pay him without
consulting me?â
It was, in effect, Martine who kept the purse. The amount deposited
with M. Grandguillot, notary at Plassans, produced a round sum of six
thousand francs income. Every three months the fifteen hundred francs
were remitted to the servant, and she disposed of them to the best
interests of the house; bought and paid for everything with the
strictest economy, for she was of so saving a disposition that they
bantered her about it continually. Clotilde, who spent very little, had
never thought of asking a separate purse for herself. As for the doctor,
he took what he required for his experiments and his pocket money from
the three or four thousand francs which he still earned every year, and
which he kept lying in the drawer of his writing desk; so that there was
quite a little treasure there in gold and bank bills, of which he never
knew the exact amount.
âUndoubtedly, monsieur, I pay, when it is I who have bought the things;
but this time the bill is so large on account of the brains which the
butcher has furnished you--â
The doctor interrupted her brusquely:
âAh, come! so you, too, are going to set yourself against me, are you?
No, no; both of you--that would be too much! Yesterday you pained me
greatly, and I was angry. But this must cease. I will not have the house
turned into a hell. Two women against me, and they the only ones who
love me at all? Do you know, I would sooner quit the house at once!â
He did not speak angrily, he even smiled; but the disquietude of his
heart was perceptible in the trembling of his voice. And he added with
his indulgent, cheerful air:
âIf you are afraid for the end of the month, my girl, tell the butcher
to send my bill apart. And donât fear; you are not going to be asked for
any of your money to settle it with; your sous may lie sleeping.â
This was an allusion to Martineâs little personal fortune. In thirty
years, with four hundred francs wages she had earned twelve thousand
francs, from which she had taken only what was strictly necessary for
her wants; and increased, almost trebled, by the interest, her savings
amounted now to thirty thousand francs, which through a caprice, a
desire to have her money apart, she had not chosen to place with M.
Grandguillot. They were elsewhere, safely invested in the funds.
âSous that lie sleeping are honest sous,â she said gravely. âBut
monsieur is right; I will tell the butcher to send a bill apart, as all
the brains are for monsieurâs cookery and not for mine.â
This explanation brought a smile to the face of Clotilde, who was always
amused by the jests about Martineâs avarice; and the breakfast ended
more cheerfully. The doctor desired to take the coffee under the plane
trees, saying that he felt the need of air after being shut up all
the morning. The coffee was served then on the stone table beside the
fountain; and how pleasant it was there in the shade, listening to the
cool murmur of the water, while around, the pine wood, the court, the
whole place, were glowing in the early afternoon sun.
The doctor had complacently brought with him the vial of nerve
substance, which he looked at as it stood on the table.
âSo, then, mademoiselle,â he resumed, with an air of brusque pleasantry,
âyou do not believe in my elixir of resurrection, and you believe in
miracles!â
âMaster,â responded Clotilde, âI believe that we do not know
everything.â
He made a gesture of impatience.
âBut we must know everything. Understand then, obstinate little girl,
that not a single deviation from the invariable laws which govern the
universe has ever been scientifically proved. Up to this day there has
been no proof of the existence of any intelligence other than the human.
I defy you to find any real will, any reasoning force, outside of life.
And everything is there; there is in the world no other will than
this force which impels everything to life, to a life ever broader and
higher.â
He rose with a wave of the hand, animated by so firm a faith that she
regarded him in surprise, noticing how youthful he looked in spite of
his white hair.
âDo you wish me to repeat my âCredoâ for you, since you accuse me of not
wanting yours? I believe that the future of humanity is in the progress
of reason through science. I believe that the pursuit of truth, through
science, is the divine ideal which man should propose to himself. I
believe that all is illusion and vanity outside the treasure of truths
slowly accumulated, and which will never again be lost. I believe that
the sum of these truths, always increasing, will at last confer on man
incalculable power and peace, if not happiness. Yes, I believe in the
final triumph of life.â
And with a broader sweep of the hand that took in the vast horizon, as
if calling on these burning plains in which fermented the saps of all
existences to bear him witness, he added:
âBut the continual miracle, my child, is life. Only open your eyes, and
look.â
She shook her head.
âIt is in vain that I open my eyes; I cannot see everything. It is you,
master, who are blind, since you do not wish to admit that there is
beyond an unknown realm which you will never enter. Oh, I know you are
too intelligent to be ignorant of that! Only you do not wish to take it
into account; you put the unknown aside, because it would embarrass
you in your researches. It is in vain that you tell me to put aside the
mysterious; to start from the known for the conquest of the unknown. I
cannot; the mysterious at once calls me back and disturbs me.â
He listened to her, smiling, glad to see her become animated, while he
smoothed her fair curls with his hand.
âYes, yes, I know you are like the rest; you do not wish to live without
illusions and without lies. Well, there, there; we understand each other
still, even so. Keep well; that is the half of wisdom and of happiness.â
Then, changing the conversation:
âCome, you will accompany me, notwithstanding, and help me in my round
of miracles. This is Thursday, my visiting day. When the heat shall have
abated a little, we will go out together.â
She refused at first, in order not to seem to yield; but she at last
consented, seeing the pain she gave him. She was accustomed to accompany
him on his round of visits. They remained for some time longer under the
plane trees, until the doctor went upstairs to dress. When he came
down again, correctly attired in a close-fitting coat and wearing a
broad-brimmed silk hat, he spoke of harnessing Bonhomme, the horse
that for a quarter of a century had taken him on his visits through the
streets and the environs of Plassans. But the poor old beast was growing
blind, and through gratitude for his past services and affection for
himself they now rarely disturbed him. On this afternoon he was very
drowsy, his gaze wandered, his legs were stiff with rheumatism. So that
the doctor and the young girl, when they went to the stable to see him,
gave him a hearty kiss on either side of his nose, telling him to rest
on a bundle of fresh hay which the servant had brought. And they decided
to walk.
Clotilde, keeping on her spotted white muslin, merely tied on over her
curls a large straw hat adorned with a bunch of lilacs; and she looked
charming, with her large eyes and her complexion of milk-and-roses under
the shadow of its broad brim. When she went out thus on Pascalâs arm,
she tall, slender, and youthful, he radiant, his face illuminated, so
to say, by the whiteness of his beard, with a vigor that made him still
lift her across the rivulets, people smiled as they passed, and turned
around to look at them again, they seemed so innocent and so happy. On
this day, as they left the road to Les Fenouilleres to enter Plassans, a
group of gossips stopped short in their talk. It reminded one of one
of those ancient kings one sees in pictures; one of those powerful and
gentle kings who never grew old, resting his hand on the shoulder of a
girl beautiful as the day, whose docile and dazzling youth lends him its
support.
They were turning into the Cours Sauvair to gain the Rue de la Banne,
when a tall, dark young man of about thirty stopped them.
âAh, master, you have forgotten me. I am still waiting for your notes on
consumption.â
It was Dr. Ramond, a young physician, who had settled two years before
at Plassans, where he was building up a fine practise. With a superb
head, in the brilliant prime of a gracious manhood, he was adored by
the women, but he had fortunately a great deal of good sense and a great
deal of prudence.
âWhy, Ramond, good day! Not at all, my dear friend; I have not forgotten
you. It is this little girl, to whom I gave the notes yesterday to copy,
and who has not touched them yet.â
The two young people shook hands with an air of cordial intimacy.
âGood day, Mlle. Clotilde.â
âGood day, M. Ramond.â
During a gastric fever, happily mild, which the young girl had had
the preceding year, Dr. Pascal had lost his head to the extent of
distrusting his own skill, and he had asked his young colleague to
assist him--to reassure him. Thus it was that an intimacy, a sort of
comradeship, had sprung up among the three.
âYou shall have your notes to-morrow, I promise you,â she said, smiling.
Ramond walked on with them, however, until they reached the end of the
Rue de la Banne, at the entrance of the old quarter whither they were
going. And there was in the manner in which he leaned, smiling, toward
Clotilde, the revelation of a secret love that had grown slowly,
awaiting patiently the hour fixed for the most reasonable of
_denouements_. Besides, he listened with deference to Dr. Pascal, whose
works he admired greatly.
âAnd it just happens, my dear friend, that I am going to Guiraudeâs,
that woman, you know, whose husband, a tanner, died of consumption five
years ago. She has two children living--Sophie, a girl now going on
sixteen, whom I fortunately succeeded in having sent four years before
her fatherâs death to a neighboring village, to one of her aunts; and
a son, Valentin, who has just completed his twenty-first year, and
whom his mother insisted on keeping with her through a blind affection,
notwithstanding that I warned her of the dreadful results that might
ensue. Well, see if I am right in asserting that consumption is not
hereditary, but only that consumptive parents transmit to their children
a degenerate soil, in which the disease develops at the slightest
contagion. Now, Valentin, who lived in daily contact with his father,
is consumptive, while Sophie, who grew up in the open air, has superb
health.â
He added with a triumphant smile:
âBut that will not prevent me, perhaps, from saving Valentin, for he
is visibly improved, and is growing fat since I have used my injections
with him. Ah, Ramond, you will come to them yet; you will come to my
injections!â
The young physician shook hands with both of them, saying:
âI donât say no. You know that I am always with you.â
When they were alone they quickened their steps and were soon in the Rue
Canquoin, one of the narrowest and darkest streets of the old quarter.
Hot as was the sun, there reigned here the semi-obscurity and the
coolness of a cave. Here it was, on a ground floor, that Guiraude lived
with her son Valentin. She opened the door herself. She was a thin,
wasted-looking woman, who was herself affected with a slow decomposition
of the blood. From morning till night she crushed almonds with the end
of an ox-bone on a large paving stone, which she held between her knees.
This work was their only means of living, the son having been obliged to
give up all labor. She smiled, however, to-day on seeing the doctor, for
Valentin had just eaten a cutlet with a good appetite, a thing which
he had not done for months. Valentin, a sickly-looking young man, with
scanty hair and beard and prominent cheek bones, on each of which was
a bright red spot, while the rest of his face was of a waxen hue,
rose quickly to show how much more sprightly he felt! And Clotilde
was touched by the reception given to Pascal as a saviour, the awaited
Messiah. These poor people pressed his hands--they would like to have
kissed his feet; looking at him with eyes shining with gratitude. True,
the disease was not yet cured: perhaps this was only the effect of the
stimulus, perhaps what he felt was only the excitement of fever. But
was it not something to gain time? He gave him another injection while
Clotilde, standing before the window, turned her back to them; and when
they were leaving she saw him lay twenty francs upon the table. This
often happened to him, to pay his patients instead of being paid by
them.
He made three other visits in the old quarter, and then went to see a
lady in the new town. When they found themselves in the street again, he
said:
âDo you know that, if you were a courageous girl, we should walk to
Seguiranne, to see Sophie at her auntâs. That would give me pleasure.â
The distance was scarcely three kilometers; that would be only a
pleasant walk in this delightful weather. And she agreed gaily, not
sulky now, but pressing close to him, happy to hang on his arm. It was
five oâclock. The setting sun spread over the fields a great sheet of
gold. But as soon as they left Plassans they were obliged to cross
the corner of the vast, arid plain, which extended to the right of the
Viorne. The new canal, whose irrigating waters were soon to transform
the face of the country parched with thirst, did not yet water this
quarter, and red fields and yellow fields stretched away into the
distance under the melancholy and blighting glare of the sun, planted
only with puny almond trees and dwarf olives, constantly cut down and
pruned, whose branches twisted and writhed in attitudes of suffering
and revolt. In the distance, on the bare hillsides, were to be seen only
like pale patches the country houses, flanked by the regulation cypress.
The vast, barren expanse, however, with broad belts of desolate fields
of hard and distinct coloring, had classic lines of a severe grandeur.
And on the road the dust lay twenty centimeters thick, a dust like snow,
that the slightest breath of wind raised in broad, flying clouds, and
that covered with white powder the fig trees and the brambles on either
side.
Clotilde, who amused herself like a child, listening to this dust
crackling under her little feet, wished to hold her parasol over Pascal.
âYou have the sun in your eyes. Lean a little this way.â
But at last he took possession of the parasol, to hold it himself.
âIt is you who do not hold it right; and then it tires you. Besides, we
are almost there now.â
In the parched plain they could already perceive an island of verdure,
an enormous clump of trees. This was La Seguiranne, the farm on which
Sophie had grown up in the house of her Aunt Dieudonne, the wife of
the cross old man. Wherever there was a spring, wherever there was a
rivulet, this ardent soil broke out in rich vegetation; and then
there were walks bordered by trees, whose luxuriant foliage afforded a
delightful coolness and shade. Plane trees, chestnut trees, and young
elms grew vigorously. They entered an avenue of magnificent green oaks.
As they approached the farm, a girl who was making hay in the meadow
dropped her fork and ran toward them. It was Sophie, who had recognized
the doctor and the young lady, as she called Clotilde. She adored them,
but she stood looking at them in confusion, unable to express the glad
greeting with which her heart overflowed. She resembled her brother
Valentin; she had his small stature, his prominent cheek bones, his
pale hair; but in the country, far from the contagion of the paternal
environment, she had, it seemed, gained flesh; acquired with her
robust limbs a firm step; her cheeks had filled out, her hair had grown
luxuriant. And she had fine eyes, which shone with health and gratitude.
Her Aunt Dieudonne, who was making hay with her, had come toward them
also, crying from afar jestingly, with something of Provencal rudeness:
âAh, M. Pascal, we have no need of you here! There is no one sick!â
The doctor, who had simply come in search of this fine spectacle of
health, answered in the same tone:
âI hope so, indeed. But that does not prevent this little girl here from
owing you and me a fine taper!â
âWell, that is the pure truth! And she knows it, M. Pascal. There is not
a day that she does not say that but for you she would be at this time
like her brother Valentin.â
âBah! We will save him, too. He is getting better, Valentin is. I have
just been to see him.â
Sophie seized the doctorâs hands; large tears stood in her eyes, and she
could only stammer:
âOh, M. Pascal!â
How they loved him! And Clotilde felt her affection for him increase,
seeing the affection of all these people for him. They remained chatting
there for a few moments longer, in the salubrious shade of the green
oaks. Then they took the road back to Plassans, having still another
visit to make.
This was to a tavern, that stood at the crossing of two roads and was
white with the flying dust. A steam mill had recently been established
opposite, utilizing the old buildings of Le Paradou, an estate dating
from the last century, and Lafouasse, the tavern keeper, still carried
on his little business, thanks to the workmen at the mill and to the
peasants who brought their corn to it. He had still for customers on
Sundays the few inhabitants of Les Artauds, a neighboring hamlet. But
misfortune had struck him; for the last three years he had been dragging
himself about groaning with rheumatism, in which the doctor had finally
recognized the beginning of ataxia. But he had obstinately refused to
take a servant, persisting in waiting on his customers himself, holding
on by the furniture. So that once more firm on his feet, after a dozen
punctures, he already proclaimed his cure everywhere.
He chanced to be just then at his door, and looked strong and vigorous,
with his tall figure, fiery face, and fiery red hair.
âI was waiting for you, M. Pascal. Do you know that I have been able to
bottle two casks of wine without being tired!â
Clotilde remained outside, sitting on a stone bench; while Pascal
entered the room to give Lafouasse the injection. She could hear
them speaking, and the latter, who in spite of his stoutness was very
cowardly in regard to pain, complained that the puncture hurt, adding,
however, that after all a little suffering was a small price to pay for
good health. Then he declared he would be offended if the doctor did
not take a glass of something. The young lady would not affront him by
refusing to take some syrup. He carried a table outside, and there was
nothing for it but they must touch glasses with him.
âTo your health, M. Pascal, and to the health of all the poor devils to
whom you give back a relish for their victuals!â
Clotilde thought with a smile of the gossip of which Martine had spoken
to her, of Father Boutin, whom they accused the doctor of having killed.
He did not kill all his patients, then; his remedy worked real miracles,
since he brought back to life the consumptive and the ataxic. And her
faith in her master returned with the warm affection for him which
welled up in her heart. When they left Lafouasse, she was once more
completely his; he could do what he willed with her.
But a few moments before, sitting on the stone bench looking at the
steam mill, a confused story had recurred to her mind; was it not here
in these smoke-blackened buildings, to-day white with flour, that a
drama of love had once been enacted? And the story came back to her;
details given by Martine; allusions made by the doctor himself; the
whole tragic love adventure of her cousin the Abbe Serge Mouret,
then rector of Les Artauds, with an adorable young girl of a wild and
passionate nature who lived at Le Paradou.
Returning by the same road Clotilde stopped, and pointing to the vast,
melancholy expanse of stubble fields, cultivated plains, and fallow
land, said:
âMaster, was there not once there a large garden? Did you not tell me
some story about it?â
âYes, yes; Le Paradou, an immense garden--woods, meadows, orchards,
parterres, fountains, and brooks that flowed into the Viorne. A garden
abandoned for an age; the garden of the Sleeping Beauty, returned to
Natureâs rule. And as you see they have cut down the woods, and cleared
and leveled the ground, to divide it into lots, and sell it by auction.
The springs themselves have dried up. There is nothing there now but
that fever-breeding marsh. Ah, when I pass by here, it makes my heart
ache!â
She ventured to question him further:
âBut was it not in Le Paradou that my cousin Serge and your great friend
Albine fell in love with each other?â
He had forgotten her presence. He went on talking, his gaze fixed on
space, lost in recollections of the past.
âAlbine, my God! I can see her now, in the sunny garden, like a great,
fragrant bouquet, her head thrown back, her bosom swelling with joy,
happy in her flowers, with wild flowers braided among her blond tresses,
fastened at her throat, on her corsage, around her slender, bare brown
arms. And I can see her again, after she had asphyxiated herself; dead
in the midst of her flowers; very white, sleeping with folded hands, and
a smile on her lips, on her couch of hyacinths and tuberoses. Dead for
love; and how passionately Albine and Serge loved each other, in the
great garden their tempter, in the bosom of Nature their accomplice! And
what a flood of life swept away all false bonds, and what a triumph of
life!â
Clotilde, she too troubled by this passionate flow of murmured words,
gazed at him intently. She had never ventured to speak to him of another
story that she had heard--the story of the one love of his life--a love
which he had cherished in secret for a lady now dead. It was said that
he had attended her for a long time without ever so much as venturing to
kiss the tips of her fingers. Up to the present, up to near sixty, study
and his natural timidity had made him shun women. But, notwithstanding,
one felt that he was reserved for some great passion, with his feelings
still fresh and ardent, in spite of his white hair.
âAnd the girl that died, the girl they mourned,â she resumed, her voice
trembling, her cheeks scarlet, without knowing why. âSerge did not love
her, then, since he let her die?â
Pascal started as though awakening from a dream, seeing her beside him
in her youthful beauty, with her large, clear eyes shining under the
shadow of her broad-brimmed hat. Something had happened; the same breath
of life had passed through them both; they did not take each otherâs
arms again. They walked side by side.
âAh, my dear, the world would be too beautiful, if men did not spoil it
all! Albine is dead, and Serge is now rector of St. Eutrope, where
he lives with his sister Desiree, a worthy creature who has the good
fortune to be half an idiot. He is a holy man; I have never said the
contrary. One may be an assassin and serve God.â
And he went on speaking of the hard things of life, of the blackness
and execrableness of humanity, without losing his gentle smile. He loved
life; and the continuous work of life was a continual joy to him
in spite of all the evil, all the misery, that it might contain. It
mattered not how dreadful life might appear, it must be great and good,
since it was lived with so tenacious a will, for the purpose no doubt
of this will itself, and of the great work which it unconsciously
accomplished. True, he was a scientist, a clear-sighted man; he did not
believe in any idyllic humanity living in a world of perpetual peace; he
saw, on the contrary, its woes and its vices; he had laid them bare; he
had examined them; he had catalogued them for thirty years past, but
his passion for life, his admiration for the forces of life, sufficed to
produce in him a perpetual gaiety, whence seemed to flow naturally his
love for others, a fraternal compassion, a sympathy, which were
felt under the roughness of the anatomist and under the affected
impersonality of his studies.
âBah!â he ended, taking a last glance at the vast, melancholy plains.
âLe Paradou is no more. They have sacked it, defiled it, destroyed it;
but what does that matter! Vines will be planted, corn will spring up,
a whole growth of new crops; and people will still fall in love in
vintages and harvests yet to come. Life is eternal; it is a perpetual
renewal of birth and growth.â
He took her arm again and they returned to the town thus, arm in arm
like good friends, while the glow of the sunset was slowly fading away
in a tranquil sea of violets and roses. And seeing them both pass again,
the ancient king, powerful and gentle, leaning against the shoulder of
a charming and docile girl, supported by her youth, the women of the
faubourg, sitting at their doors, looked after them with a smile of
tender emotion.
At La Souleiade Martine was watching for them. She waved her hand to
them from afar. What! Were they not going to dine to-day? Then, when
they were near, she said:
âAh! you will have to wait a little while. I did not venture to put on
my leg of mutton yet.â
They remained outside to enjoy the charm of the closing day. The pine
grove, wrapped in shadow, exhaled a balsamic resinous odor, and from
the yard, still heated, in which a last red gleam was dying away, a
chillness arose. It was like an assuagement, a sigh of relief, a resting
of surrounding Nature, of the puny almond trees, the twisted olives,
under the paling sky, cloudless and serene; while at the back of the
house the clump of plane trees was a mass of black and impenetrable
shadows, where the fountain was heard singing its eternal crystal song.
âLook!â said the doctor, âM. Bellombre has already dined, and he is
taking the air.â
He pointed to a bench, on which a tall, thin old man of seventy was
sitting, with a long face, furrowed with wrinkles, and large, staring
eyes, and very correctly attired in a close-fitting coat and cravat.
âHe is a wise man,â murmured Clotilde. âHe is happy.â
âHe!â cried Pascal. âI should hope not!â
He hated no one, and M. Bellombre, the old college professor, now
retired, and living in his little house without any other company than
that of a gardener who was deaf and dumb and older than himself, was the
only person who had the power to exasperate him.
âA fellow who has been afraid of life; think of that! afraid of life!
Yes, a hard and avaricious egotist! If he banished woman from his
existence, it was only through fear of having to pay for her shoes.
And he has known only the children of others, who have made him
suffer--hence his hatred of the child--that flesh made to be flogged.
The fear of life, the fear of burdens and of duties, of annoyances and
of catastrophes! The fear of life, which makes us through dread of its
sufferings refuse its joys. Ah! I tell you, this cowardliness enrages
me; I cannot forgive it. We must live--live a complete life--live
all our life. Better even suffering, suffering only, than such
renunciation--the death of all there is in us that is living and human!â
M. Bellombre had risen, and was walking along one of the walks with
slow, tranquil steps. Then, Clotilde, who had been watching him in
silence, at last said:
âThere is, however, the joy of renunciation. To renounce, not to live;
to keep oneâs self for the spiritual, has not this always been the great
happiness of the saints?â
âIf they had not lived,â cried Pascal, âthey could not now be saints.
Let suffering come, and I will bless it, for it is perhaps the only
great happiness!â
But he felt that she rebelled against this; that he was going to lose
her again. At the bottom of our anxiety about the beyond is the secret
fear and hatred of life. So that he hastily assumed again his pleasant
smile, so affectionate and conciliating.
âNo, no! Enough for to-day; let us dispute no more; let us love each
other dearly. And see! Martine is calling us, let us go in to dinner.â
III.
For a month this unpleasant state of affairs continued, every day
growing worse, and Clotilde suffered especially at seeing that Pascal
now locked up everything. He had no longer the same tranquil confidence
in her as before, and this wounded her so deeply that, if she had at
any time found the press open, she would have thrown the papers into
the fire as her grandmother Felicite had urged her to do. And the
disagreements began again, so that they often remained without speaking
to each other for two days together.
One morning, after one of these misunderstandings which had lasted since
the day before, Martine said as she was serving the breakfast:
âJust now as I was crossing the Place de la Sous-Prefecture, I saw a
stranger whom I thought I recognized going into Mme. Feliciteâs house.
Yes, mademoiselle, I should not be surprised if it were your brother.â
On the impulse of the moment, Pascal and Clotilde spoke.
âYour brother! Did your grandmother expect him, then?â
âNo, I donât think so, though she has been expecting him at any time for
the past six months, I know that she wrote to him again a week ago.â
They questioned Martine.
âIndeed, monsieur, I cannot say; since I last saw M. Maxime four years
ago, when he stayed two hours with us on his way to Italy, he may
perhaps have changed greatly--I thought, however, that I recognized his
back.â
The conversation continued, Clotilde seeming to be glad of this event,
which broke at last the oppressive silence between them, and Pascal
ended:
âWell, if it is he, he will come to see us.â
It was indeed Maxime. He had yielded, after months of refusal, to the
urgent solicitations of old Mme. Rougon, who had still in this quarter
an open family wound to heal. The trouble was an old one, and it grew
worse every day.
Fifteen years before, when he was seventeen, Maxime had had a child by
a servant whom he had seduced. His father Saccard, and his stepmother
Renee--the latter vexed more especially at his unworthy choice--had
acted in the matter with indulgence. The servant, Justine Megot,
belonged to one of the neighboring villages, and was a fair-haired
girl, also seventeen, gentle and docile; and they had sent her back to
Plassans, with an allowance of twelve hundred francs a year, to bring up
little Charles. Three years later she had married there a harness-maker
of the faubourg, Frederic Thomas by name, a good workman and a sensible
fellow, who was tempted by the allowance. For the rest her conduct was
now most exemplary, she had grown fat, and she appeared to be cured of
a cough that had threatened a hereditary malady due to the alcoholic
propensities of a long line of progenitors. And two other children born
of her marriage, a boy who was now ten and a girl who was seven, both
plump and rosy, enjoyed perfect health; so that she would have been the
most respected and the happiest of women, if it had not been for the
trouble which Charles caused in the household. Thomas, notwithstanding
the allowance, execrated this son of another man and gave him no peace,
which made the mother suffer in secret, being an uncomplaining and
submissive wife. So that, although she adored him, she would willingly
have given him up to his fatherâs family.
Charles, at fifteen, seemed scarcely twelve, and he had the infantine
intelligence of a child of five, resembling in an extraordinary degree
his great-great-grandmother, Aunt Dide, the madwoman at the Tulettes.
He had the slender and delicate grace of one of those bloodless little
kings with whom a race ends, crowned with their long, fair locks, light
as spun silk. His large, clear eyes were expressionless, and on his
disquieting beauty lay the shadow of death. And he had neither brain
nor heart--he was nothing but a vicious little dog, who rubbed himself
against people to be fondled. His great-grandmother Felicite, won by
this beauty, in which she affected to recognize her blood, had at first
put him in a boarding school, taking charge of him, but he had been
expelled from it at the end of six months for misconduct. Three times
she had changed his boarding school, and each time he had been expelled
in disgrace. Then, as he neither would nor could learn anything, and
as his health was declining rapidly, they kept him at home, sending him
from one to another of the family. Dr. Pascal, moved to pity, had tried
to cure him, and had abandoned the hopeless task only after he had kept
him with him for nearly a year, fearing the companionship for Clotilde.
And now, when Charles was not at his motherâs, where he scarcely ever
lived at present, he was to be found at the house of Felicite, or that
of some other relative, prettily dressed, laden with toys, living like
the effeminate little dauphin of an ancient and fallen race.
Old Mme. Rougon, however, suffered because of this bastard, and she
had planned to get him away from the gossiping tongues of Plassans, by
persuading Maxime to take him and keep him with him in Paris. It would
still be an ugly story of the fallen family. But Maxime had for a
long time turned a deaf ear to her solicitations, in the fear which
continually haunted him of spoiling his life. After the war, enriched by
the death of his wife, he had come back to live prudently on his fortune
in his mansion on the avenue of the Bois de Boulogne, tormented by the
hereditary malady of which he was to die young, having gained from his
precocious debauchery a salutary fear of pleasure, resolved above all
to shun emotions and responsibilities, so that he might last as long as
possible. Acute pains in the limbs, rheumatic he thought them, had been
alarming him for some time past; he saw himself in fancy already an
invalid tied down to an easy-chair; and his fatherâs sudden return to
France, the fresh activity which Saccard was putting forth, completed
his disquietude. He knew well this devourer of millions; he trembled at
finding him again bustling about him with his good-humored, malicious
laugh. He felt that he was being watched, and he had the conviction that
he would be cut up and devoured if he should be for a single day at his
mercy, rendered helpless by the pains which were invading his limbs. And
so great a fear of solitude had taken possession of him that he had now
yielded to the idea of seeing his son again. If he found the boy gentle,
intelligent, and healthy, why should he not take him to live with him?
He would thus have a companion, an heir, who would protect him against
the machinations of his father. Gradually he came to see himself, in his
selfish forethought, loved, petted, and protected; yet for all that he
might not have risked such a journey, if his physician had not just at
that time sent him to the waters of St. Gervais. Thus, having to go
only a few leagues out of his way, he had dropped in unexpectedly that
morning on old Mme. Rougon, firmly resolved to take the train again in
the evening, after having questioned her and seen the boy.
At two oâclock Pascal and Clotilde were still beside the fountain under
the plane trees where they had taken their coffee, when Felicite arrived
with Maxime.
âMy dear, hereâs a surprise! I have brought you your brother.â
Startled, the young girl had risen, seeing this thin and sallow
stranger, whom she scarcely recognized. Since their parting in 1854 she
had seen him only twice, once at Paris and again at Plassans. Yet his
image, refined, elegant, and vivacious, had remained engraven on her
mind; his face had grown hollow, his hair was streaked with silver
threads. But notwithstanding, she found in him still, with his
delicately handsome head, a languid grace, like that of a girl, even in
his premature decrepitude.
âHow well you look!â he said simply, as he embraced his sister.
âBut,â she responded, âto be well one must live in the sunshine. Ah, how
happy it makes me to see you again!â
Pascal, with the eye of the physician, had examined his nephew
critically. He embraced him in his turn.
âGoodday, my boy. And she is right, mind you; one can be well only out
in the sunshine--like the trees.â
Felicite had gone hastily to the house. She returned, crying:
âCharles is not here, then?â
âNo,â said Clotilde. âWe went to see him yesterday. Uncle Macquart has
taken him, and he is to remain for a few days at the Tulettes.â
Felicite was in despair. She had come only in the certainty of finding
the boy at Pascalâs. What was to be done now? The doctor, with his
tranquil air, proposed to write to Uncle Macquart, who would bring him
back in the morning. But when he learned that Maxime wished positively
to go away again by the nine oâclock train, without remaining over
night, another idea occurred to him. He would send to the livery stable
for a landau, and all four would go to see Charles at Uncle Macquartâs.
It would even be a delightful drive. It was not quite three leagues from
Plassans to the Tulettes--an hour to go, and an hour to return, and they
would still have almost two hours to remain there, if they wished to
be back by seven. Martine would get dinner, and Maxime would have time
enough to dine and catch his train.
But Felicite objected, visibly disquieted by this visit to Macquart.
âOh, no, indeed! If you think I am going down there in this frightful
weather, you are mistaken. It is much simpler to send some one to bring
Charles to us.â
Pascal shook his head. Charles was not always to be brought back when
one wished. He was a boy without reason, who sometimes, if the whim
seized him, would gallop off like an untamed animal. And old Mme.
Rougon, overruled and furious at having been unable to make any
preparation, was at last obliged to yield, in the necessity in which she
found herself of leaving the matter to chance.
âWell, be it as you wish, then! Good Heavens, how unfortunately things
have turned out!â
Martine hurried away to order the landau, and before three oâclock had
struck the horses were on the Nice road, descending the declivity which
slopes down to the bridge over the Viorne. Then they turned to the left,
and followed the wooded banks of the river for about two miles. After
this the road entered the gorges of the Seille, a narrow pass between
two giant walls of rock scorched by the ardent rays of the summer
sun. Pine trees pushed their way through the clefts; clumps of trees,
scarcely thicker at the roots than tufts of grass, fringed the crests
and hung over the abyss. It was a chaos; a blasted landscape, a mouth of
hell, with its wild turns, its droppings of blood-colored earth sliding
down from every cut, its desolate solitude invaded only by the eaglesâ
flight.
Felicite did not open her lips; her brain was at work, and she seemed
completely absorbed in her thoughts. The atmosphere was oppressive,
the sun sent his burning rays from behind a veil of great livid clouds.
Pascal was almost the only one who talked, in his passionate love for
this scorched land--a love which he endeavored to make his nephew share.
But it was in vain that he uttered enthusiastic exclamations, in vain
that he called his attention to the persistence of the olives, the fig
trees, and the thorn bushes in pushing through the rock; the life of the
rock itself, that colossal and puissant frame of the earth, from which
they could almost fancy they heard a sound of breathing arise. Maxime
remained cold, filled with a secret anguish in presence of those blocks
of savage majesty, whose mass seemed to crush him. And he preferred to
turn his eyes toward his sister, who was seated in front of him. He was
becoming more and more charmed with her. She looked so healthy and
so happy, with her pretty round head, with its straight, well-molded
forehead. Now and then their glances met, and she gave him an
affectionate smile which consoled him.
But the wildness of the gorge was beginning to soften, the two walls of
rock to grow lower; they passed between two peaceful hills, with gentle
slopes covered with thyme and lavender. It was the desert still, there
were still bare spaces, green or violet hued, from which the faintest
breeze brought a pungent perfume.
Then abruptly, after a last turn they descended to the valley of the
Tulettes, which was refreshed by springs. In the distance stretched
meadows dotted by large trees. The village was seated midway on the
slope, among olive trees, and the country house of Uncle Macquart stood
a little apart on the left, full in view. The landau turned into the
road which led to the insane asylum, whose white walls they could see
before them in the distance.
Feliciteâs silence had grown somber, for she was not fond of exhibiting
Uncle Macquart. Another whom the family would be well rid of the day
when he should take his departure. For the credit of every one he
ought to have been sleeping long ago under the sod. But he persisted
in living, he carried his eighty-three years well, like an old drunkard
saturated with liquor, whom the alcohol seemed to preserve. At Plassans
he had left a terrible reputation as a do-nothing and a scoundrel,
and the old men whispered the execrable story of the corpses that lay
between him and the Rougons, an act of treachery in the troublous days
of December, 1851, an ambuscade in which he had left comrades with their
bellies ripped open, lying on the bloody pavement. Later, when he had
returned to France, he had preferred to the good place of which he had
obtained the promise this little domain of the Tulettes, which Felicite
had bought for him. And he had lived comfortably here ever since; he had
no longer any other ambition than that of enlarging it, looking out once
more for the good chances, and he had even found the means of obtaining
a field which he had long coveted, by making himself useful to his
sister-in-law at the time when the latter again reconquered Plassans
from the legitimists--another frightful story that was whispered also,
of a madman secretly let loose from the asylum, running in the night
to avenge himself, setting fire to his house in which four persons were
burned. But these were old stories and Macquart, settled down now, was
no longer the redoubtable scoundrel who had made all the family tremble.
He led a perfectly correct life; he was a wily diplomat, and he had
retained nothing of his air of jeering at the world but his bantering
smile.
âUncle is at home,â said Pascal, as they approached the house.
This was one of those Provencal structures of a single story, with
discolored tiles and four walls washed with a bright yellow. Before the
facade extended a narrow terrace shaded by ancient mulberry trees, whose
thick, gnarled branches drooped down, forming an arbor. It was here
that Uncle Macquart smoked his pipe in the cool shade, in summer. And on
hearing the sound of the carriage, he came and stood at the edge of the
terrace, straightening his tall form neatly clad in blue cloth, his head
covered with the eternal fur cap which he wore from one yearâs end to
the other.
As soon as he recognized his visitors, he called out with a sneer:
âOh, here come some fine company! How kind of you; you are out for an
airing.â
But the presence of Maxime puzzled him. Who was he? Whom had he come to
see? They mentioned his name to him, and he immediately cut short the
explanations they were adding, to enable him to straighten out the
tangled skein of relationship.
âThe father of Charles--I know, I know! The son of my nephew Saccard,
_pardi_! the one who made a fine marriage, and whose wife died--â
He stared at Maxime, seeming happy to find him already wrinkled at
thirty-two, with his hair and beard sprinkled with snow.
âAh, well!â he added, âwe are all growing old. But I, at least, have no
great reason to complain. I am solid.â
And he planted himself firmly on his legs with his air of ferocious
mockery, while his fiery red face seemed to flame and burn. For a
long time past ordinary brandy had seemed to him like pure water; only
spirits of 36 degrees tickled his blunted palate; and he took such
draughts of it that he was full of it--his flesh saturated with it--like
a sponge. He perspired alcohol. At the slightest breath whenever he
spoke, he exhaled from his mouth a vapor of alcohol.
âYes, truly; you are solid, uncle!â said Pascal, amazed. âAnd you have
done nothing to make you so; you have good reason to ridicule us. Only
there is one thing I am afraid of, look you, that some day in lighting
your pipe, you may set yourself on fire--like a bowl of punch.â
Macquart, flattered, gave a sneering laugh.
âHave your jest, have your jest, my boy! A glass of cognac is worth more
than all your filthy drugs. And you will all touch glasses with me, hey?
So that it may be said truly that your uncle is a credit to you all.
As for me, I laugh at evil tongues. I have corn and olive trees, I have
almond trees and vines and land, like any _bourgeois_. In summer I smoke
my pipe under the shade of my mulberry trees; in winter I go to smoke it
against my wall, there in the sunshine. One has no need to blush for an
uncle like that, hey? Clotilde, I have syrup, if you would like some.
And you, Felicite, my dear, I know that you prefer anisette. There is
everything here, I tell you, there is everything here!â
He waved his arm as if to take possession of the comforts he enjoyed,
now that from an old sinner he had become a hermit, while Felicite, whom
he had disturbed a moment before by the enumeration of his riches, did
not take her eyes from his face, waiting to interrupt him.
âThank you, Macquart, we will take nothing; we are in a hurry. Where is
Charles?â
âCharles? Very good, presently! I understand, papa has come to see his
boy. But that is not going to prevent you taking a glass.â
And as they positively refused he became offended, and said, with his
malicious laugh:
âCharles is not here; he is at the asylum with the old woman.â
Then, taking Maxime to the end of the terrace, he pointed out to him the
great white buildings, whose inner gardens resembled prison yards.
âLook, nephew, you see those three trees in front of you? Well, beyond
the one to the left, there is a fountain in a court. Follow the ground
floor, and the fifth window to the right is Aunt Dideâs. And that is
where the boy is. Yes, I took him there a little while ago.â
This was an indulgence of the directors. In the twenty years that she
had been in the asylum the old woman had not given a momentâs uneasiness
to her keeper. Very quiet, very gentle, she passed the days motionless
in her easy-chair, looking straight before her; and as the boy liked to
be with her, and as she herself seemed to take an interest in him,
they shut their eyes to this infraction of the rules and left him there
sometimes for two or three hours at a time, busily occupied in cutting
out pictures.
But this new disappointment put the finishing stroke to Feliciteâs
ill-humor; she grew angry when Macquart proposed that all five should go
in a body in search of the boy.
âWhat an idea! Go you alone, and come back quickly. We have no time to
lose.â
Her suppressed rage seemed to amuse Uncle Macquart, and perceiving how
disagreeable his proposition was to her, he insisted, with his sneering
laugh:
âBut, my children, we should at the same time have an opportunity of
seeing the old mother; the mother of us all. There is no use in talking;
you know that we are all descended from her, and it would hardly be
polite not to go wish her a good-day, when my grandnephew, who has come
from such a distance, has perhaps never before had a good look at her.
Iâll not disown her, may the devil take me if I do. To be sure she is
mad, but all the same, old mothers who have passed their hundredth year
are not often to be seen, and she well deserves that we should show
ourselves a little kind to her.â
There was silence for a moment. A little shiver had run through every
one. And it was Clotilde, silent until now, who first declared in a
voice full of feeling:
âYou are right, uncle; we will all go.â
Felicite herself was obliged to consent. They re-entered the landau,
Macquart taking the seat beside the coachman. A feeling of disquietude
had given a sallow look to Maximeâs worn face; and during the short
drive he questioned Pascal concerning Charles with an air of paternal
interest, which concealed a growing anxiety. The doctor constrained
by his motherâs imperious glances, softened the truth. Well, the boyâs
health was certainly not very robust; it was on that account, indeed,
that they were glad to leave him for weeks together in the country with
his uncle: but he had no definite disease. Pascal did not add that he
had for a moment cherished the dream of giving him a brain and muscles
by treating him with his hypodermic injections of nerve substance,
but that he had always been met by the same difficulty; the slightest
puncture brought on a hemorrhage which it was found necessary to stop
by compresses; there was a laxness of the tissues, due to degeneracy; a
bloody dew which exuded from the skin; he had especially, bleedings at
the nose so sudden and so violent that they did not dare to leave him
alone, fearing lest all the blood in his veins should flow out. And the
doctor ended by saying that although the boyâs intelligence had been
sluggish, he still hoped that it would develop in an environment of
quicker mental activity.
They arrived at the asylum and Macquart, who had been listening to the
doctor, descended from his seat, saying:
âHe is a gentle little fellow, a very gentle little fellow! And then, he
is so beautiful--an angel!â
Maxime, who was still pale, and who shivered in spite of the stifling
heat, put no more questions. He looked at the vast buildings of the
asylum, the wings of the various quarters separated by gardens, the
menâs quarters from those of the women, those of the harmless insane
from those of the violent insane. A scrupulous cleanliness reigned
everywhere, a gloomy silence--broken from time to time by footsteps and
the noise of keys. Old Macquart knew all the keepers. Besides, the doors
were always to open to Dr. Pascal, who had been authorized to attend
certain of the inmates. They followed a passage and entered a court; it
was here--one of the chambers on the ground floor, a room covered with
a light carpet, furnished with a bed, a press, a table, an armchair, and
two chairs. The nurse, who had orders never to quit her charge, happened
just now to be absent, and the only occupants of the room were the
madwoman, sitting rigid in her armchair at one side of the table, and
the boy, sitting on a chair on the opposite side, absorbed in cutting
out his pictures.
âGo in, go in!â Macquart repeated. âOh, there is no danger, she is very
gentle!â
The grandmother, Adelaide Fouque, whom her grandchildren, a whole swarm
of descendants, called by the pet name of Aunt Dide, did not even turn
her head at the noise. In her youth hysterical troubles had unbalanced
her mind. Of an ardent and passionate nature and subject to nervous
attacks, she had yet reached the great age of eighty-three when a
dreadful grief, a terrible moral shock, destroyed her reason. At that
time, twenty-one years before, her mind had ceased to act; it had become
suddenly weakened without the possibility of recovery. And now, at the
age of 104 years, she lived here as if forgotten by the world, a
quiet madwoman with an ossified brain, with whom insanity might remain
stationary for an indefinite length of time without causing death. Old
age had come, however, and had gradually atrophied her muscles. Her
flesh was as if eaten away by age. The skin only remained on her bones,
so that she had to be carried from her chair to her bed, for it had
become impossible for her to walk or even to move. And yet she held
herself erect against the back of her chair, a yellow, dried-up
skeleton--like an ancient tree of which the bark only remains--with only
her eyes still living in her thin, long visage, in which the wrinkles
had been, so to say, worn away. She was looking fixedly at Charles.
Clotilde approached her a little tremblingly.
âAunt Dide, it is we; we have come to see you. Donât you know me, then?
Your little girl who comes sometimes to kiss you.â
But the madwoman did not seem to hear. Her eyes remained fixed upon the
boy, who was finishing cutting out a picture--a purple king in a golden
mantle.
âCome, mamma,â said Macquart, âdonât pretend to be stupid. You may very
well look at us. Here is a gentleman, a grandson of yours, who has come
from Paris expressly to see you.â
At this voice Aunt Dide at last turned her head. Her clear,
expressionless eyes wandered slowly from one to another, then rested
again on Charles with the same fixed look as before.
They all shivered, and no one spoke again.
âSince the terrible shock she received,â explained Pascal in a low
voice, âshe has been that way; all intelligence, all memory seem
extinguished in her. For the most part she is silent; at times she pours
forth a flood of stammering and indistinct words. She laughs and cries
without cause, she is a thing that nothing affects. And yet I should
not venture to say that the darkness of her mind is complete, that no
memories remain stored up in its depths. Ah! the poor old mother, how I
pity her, if the light has not yet been finally extinguished. What
can her thoughts have been for the last twenty-one years, if she still
remembers?â
With a gesture he put this dreadful past which he knew from him. He
saw her again young, a tall, pale, slender girl with frightened eyes,
a widow, after fifteen months of married life with Rougon, the clumsy
gardener whom she had chosen for a husband, throwing herself immediately
afterwards into the arms of the smuggler Macquart, whom she loved with
a wolfish love, and whom she did not even marry. She had lived thus for
fifteen years, with her three children, one the child of her marriage,
the other two illegitimate, a capricious and tumultuous existence,
disappearing for weeks at a time, and returning all bruised, her arms
black and blue. Then Macquart had been killed, shot down like a dog by a
_gendarme_; and the first shock had paralyzed her, so that even then she
retained nothing living but her water-clear eyes in her livid face; and
she shut herself up from the world in the hut which her lover had left
her, leading there for forty years the dead existence of a nun, broken
by terrible nervous attacks. But the other shock was to finish her, to
overthrow her reason, and Pascal recalled the atrocious scene, for he
had witnessed it--a poor child whom the grandmother had taken to live
with her, her grandson Silvere, the victim of family hatred and strife,
whose head another _gendarme_ shattered with a pistol shot, at the
suppression of the insurrectionary movement of 1851. She was always to
be bespattered with blood.
Felicite, meanwhile, had approached Charles, who was so engrossed with
his pictures that all these people did not disturb him.
âMy darling, this gentleman is your father. Kiss him,â she said.
And then they all occupied themselves with Charles. He was very prettily
dressed in a jacket and short trousers of black velvet, braided with
gold cord. Pale as a lily, he resembled in truth one of those kingâs
sons whose pictures he was cutting out, with his large, light eyes and
his shower of fair curls. But what especially struck the attention at
this moment was his resemblance to Aunt Dide; this resemblance which
had overleaped three generations, which had passed from this withered
centenarianâs countenance, from these dead features wasted by life, to
this delicate childâs face that was also as if worn, aged, and wasted,
through the wear of the race. Fronting each other, the imbecile child of
a deathlike beauty seemed the last of the race of which she, forgotten
by the world, was the ancestress.
Maxime bent over to press a kiss on the boyâs forehead; and a chill
struck to his heart--this very beauty disquieted him; his uneasiness
grew in this chamber of madness, whence, it seemed to him, breathed a
secret horror come from the far-off past.
âHow beautiful you are, my pet! Donât you love me a little?â
Charles looked at him without comprehending, and went back to his play.
But all were chilled. Without the set expression of her countenance
changing Aunt Dide wept, a flood of tears rolled from her living eyes
over her dead cheeks. Her gaze fixed immovably upon the boy, she wept
slowly, endlessly. A great thing had happened.
And now an extraordinary emotion took possession of Pascal. He caught
Clotilde by the arm and pressed it hard, trying to make her understand.
Before his eyes appeared the whole line, the legitimate branch and the
bastard branch, which had sprung from this trunk already vitiated by
neurosis. Five generations were there present--the Rougons and the
Macquarts, Adelaide Fouque at the root, then the scoundrelly old uncle,
then himself, then Clotilde and Maxime, and lastly, Charles. Felicite
occupied the place of her dead husband. There was no link wanting; the
chain of heredity, logical and implacable, was unbroken. And what a
world was evoked from the depths of the tragic cabin which breathed
this horror that came from the far-off past in such appalling shape that
every one, notwithstanding the oppressive heat, shivered.
âWhat is it, master?â whispered Clotilde, trembling.
âNo, no, nothing!â murmured the doctor. âI will tell you later.â
Macquart, who alone continued to sneer, scolded the old mother. What an
idea was hers, to receive people with tears when they put themselves out
to come and make her a visit. It was scarcely polite. And then he turned
to Maxime and Charles.
âWell, nephew, you have seen your boy at last. Is it not true that he is
pretty, and that he is a credit to you, after all?â
Felicite hastened to interfere. Greatly dissatisfied with the turn which
affairs were taking, she was now anxious only to get away.
âHe is certainly a handsome boy, and less backward than people think.
Just see how skilful he is with his hands. And you will see when you
have brightened him up in Paris, in a different way from what we have
been able to do at Plassans, eh?â
âNo doubt,â murmured Maxime. âI do not say no; I will think about it.â
He seemed embarrassed for a moment, and then added:
âYou know I came only to see him. I cannot take him with me now as I am
to spend a month at St. Gervais. But as soon as I return to Paris I will
think of it, I will write to you.â
Then, taking out his watch, he cried:
âThe devil! Half-past five. You know that I would not miss the nine
oâclock train for anything in the world.â
âYes, yes, let us go,â said Felicite brusquely. âWe have nothing more to
do here.â
Macquart, whom his sister-in-lawâs anger seemed still to divert,
endeavored to delay them with all sorts of stories. He told of the days
when Aunt Dide talked, and he affirmed that he had found her one morning
singing a romance of her youth. And then he had no need of the carriage,
he would take the boy back on foot, since they left him to him.
âKiss your papa, my boy, for you know now that you see him, but you
donât know whether you shall ever see him again or not.â
With the same surprised and indifferent movement Charles raised his
head, and Maxime, troubled, pressed another kiss on his forehead.
âBe very good and very pretty, my pet. And love me a little.â
âCome, come, we have no time to lose,â repeated Felicite.
But the keeper here re-entered the room. She was a stout, vigorous girl,
attached especially to the service of the madwoman. She carried her to
and from her bed, night and morning; she fed her and took care of her
like a child. And she at once entered into conversation with Dr. Pascal,
who questioned her. One of the doctorâs most cherished dreams was to
cure the mad by his treatment of hypodermic injections. Since in their
case it was the brain that was in danger, why should not hypodermic
injections of nerve substance give them strength and will, repairing
the breaches made in the organ? So that for a moment he had dreamed
of trying the treatment with the old mother; then he began to have
scruples, he felt a sort of awe, without counting that madness at
that age was total, irreparable ruin. So that he had chosen another
subject--a hatter named Sarteur, who had been for a year past in the
asylum, to which he had come himself to beg them to shut him up to
prevent him from committing a crime. In his paroxysms, so strong an
impulse to kill seized him that he would have thrown himself upon the
first passer-by. He was of small stature, very dark, with a retreating
forehead, an aquiline face with a large nose and a very short chin, and
his left cheek was noticeably larger than his right. And the doctor had
obtained miraculous results with this victim of emotional insanity, who
for a month past had had no attack. The nurse, indeed being questioned,
answered that Sarteur had become quiet and was growing better every day.
âDo you hear, Clotilde?â cried Pascal, enchanted. âI have not the time
to see him this evening, but I will come again to-morrow. It is my
visiting day. Ah, if I only dared; if she were young still--â
His eyes turned toward Aunt Dide. But Clotilde, whom his enthusiasm made
smile, said gently:
âNo, no, master, you cannot make life anew. There, come. We are the
last.â
It was true; the others had already gone. Macquart, on the threshold,
followed Felicite and Maxime with his mocking glance as they went away.
Aunt Dide, the forgotten one, sat motionless, appalling in her leanness,
her eyes again fixed upon Charles with his white, worn face framed in
his royal locks.
The drive back was full of constraint. In the heat which exhaled from
the earth, the landau rolled on heavily to the measured trot of the
horses. The stormy sky took on an ashen, copper-colored hue in the
deepening twilight. At first a few indifferent words were exchanged;
but from the moment in which they entered the gorges of the Seille all
conversation ceased, as if they felt oppressed by the menacing walls of
giant rock that seemed closing in upon them. Was not this the end of the
earth, and were they not going to roll into the unknown, over the edge
of some abyss? An eagle soared by, uttering a shrill cry.
Willows appeared again, and the carriage was rolling lightly along the
bank of the Viorne, when Felicite began without transition, as if she
were resuming a conversation already commenced.
âYou have no refusal to fear from the mother. She loves Charles dearly,
but she is a very sensible woman, and she understands perfectly that it
is to the boyâs advantage that you should take him with you. And I must
tell you, too, that the poor boy is not very happy with her, since,
naturally, the husband prefers his own son and daughter. For you ought
to know everything.â
And she went on in this strain, hoping, no doubt, to persuade Maxime and
draw a formal promise from him. She talked until they reached Plassans.
Then, suddenly, as the landau rolled over the pavement of the faubourg,
she said:
âBut look! there is his mother. That stout blond at the door there.â
At the threshold of a harness-makerâs shop hung round with horse
trappings and halters, Justine sat, knitting a stocking, taking the air,
while the little girl and boy were playing on the ground at her feet.
And behind them in the shadow of the shop was to be seen Thomas, a
stout, dark man, occupied in repairing a saddle.
Maxime leaned forward without emotion, simply curious. He was greatly
surprised at sight of this robust woman of thirty-two, with so sensible
and so commonplace an air, in whom there was not a trace of the wild
little girl with whom he had been in love when both of the same age were
entering their seventeenth year. Perhaps a pang shot through his heart
to see her plump and tranquil and blooming, while he was ill and already
aged.
âI should never have recognized her,â he said.
And the landau, still rolling on, turned into the Rue de Rome. Justine
had disappeared; this vision of the past--a past so different from the
present--had sunk into the shadowy twilight, with Thomas, the children,
and the shop.
At La Souleiade the table was set; Martine had an eel from the Viorne,
a _sauted_ rabbit, and a leg of mutton. Seven oâclock was striking, and
they had plenty of time to dine quietly.
âDonât be uneasy,â said Dr. Pascal to his nephew. âWe will accompany you
to the station; it is not ten minutesâ walk from here. As you left your
trunk, you have nothing to do but to get your ticket and jump on board
the train.â
Then, meeting Clotilde in the vestibule, where she was hanging up her
hat and her umbrella, he said to her in an undertone:
âDo you know that I am uneasy about your brother?â
âWhy so?â
âI have observed him attentively. I donât like the way in which he
walks; and have you noticed what an anxious look he has at times?
That has never deceived me. In short, your brother is threatened with
ataxia.â
âAtaxia!â she repeated turning very pale.
A cruel image rose before her, that of a neighbor, a man still young,
whom for the past ten years she had seen driven about in a little
carriage by a servant. Was not this infirmity the worst of all ills, the
ax stroke that separates a living being from social and active life?
âBut,â she murmured, âhe complains only of rheumatism.â
Pascal shrugged his shoulders; and putting a finger to his lip he went
into the dining-room, where Felicite and Maxime were seated.
The dinner was very friendly. The sudden disquietude which had sprung up
in Clotildeâs heart made her still more affectionate to her brother, who
sat beside her. She attended to his wants gayly, forcing him to take the
most delicate morsels. Twice she called back Martine, who was passing
the dishes too quickly. And Maxime was more and more enchanted by this
sister, who was so good, so healthy, so sensible, whose charm enveloped
him like a caress. So greatly was he captivated by her that gradually
a project, vague at first, took definite shape within him. Since little
Charles, his son, terrified him so greatly with his deathlike beauty,
his royal air of sickly imbecility, why should he not take his sister
Clotilde to live with him? The idea of having a woman in his house
alarmed him, indeed, for he was afraid of all women, having had too
much experience of them in his youth; but this one seemed to him truly
maternal. And then, too, a good woman in his house would make a change
in it, which would be a desirable thing. He would at least be left no
longer at the mercy of his father, whom he suspected of desiring his
death so that he might get possession of his money at once. His hatred
and terror of his father decided him.
âDonât you think of marrying, then?â he asked, wishing to try the
ground.
The young girl laughed.
âOh, there is no hurry,â she answered.
Then, suddenly, looking at Pascal, who had raised his head, she added:
âHow can I tell? Oh, I shall never marry.â
But Felicite protested. When she saw her so attached to the doctor, she
often wished for a marriage that would separate her from him, that would
leave her son alone in a deserted home, where she herself might become
all powerful, mistress of everything. Therefore she appealed to him. Was
it not true that a woman ought to marry, that it was against nature to
remain an old maid?
And he gravely assented, without taking his eyes from Clotildeâs face.
âYes, yes, she must marry. She is too sensible not to marry.â
âBah!â interrupted Maxime, âwould it be really sensible in her to
marry? In order to be unhappy, perhaps; there are so many ill-assorted
marriages!â
And coming to a resolution, he added:
âDonât you know what you ought to do? Well, you ought to come and live
with me in Paris. I have thought the matter over. The idea of taking
charge of a child in my state of health terrifies me. Am I not a child
myself, an invalid who needs to be taken care of? You will take care of
me; you will be with me, if I should end by losing the use of my limbs.â
There was a sound of tears in his voice, so great a pity did he feel
for himself. He saw himself, in fancy, sick; he saw his sister at his
bedside, like a Sister of Charity; if she consented to remain unmarried
he would willingly leave her his fortune, so that his father might not
have it. The dread which he had of solitude, the need in which he should
perhaps stand of having a sick-nurse, made him very pathetic.
âIt would be very kind on your part, and you should have no cause to
repent it.â
Martine, who was serving the mutton, stopped short in surprise; and
the proposition caused the same surprise at the table. Felicite was the
first to approve, feeling that the girlâs departure would further her
plans. She looked at Clotilde, who was still silent and stunned, as it
were; while Dr. Pascal waited with a pale face.
âOh, brother, brother,â stammered the young girl, unable at first to
think of anything else to say.
Then her grandmother cried:
âIs that all you have to say? Why, the proposition your brother has just
made you is a very advantageous one. If he is afraid of taking Charles
now, why, you can go with him, and later on you can send for the child.
Come, come, that can be very well arranged. Your brother makes an appeal
to your heart. Is it not true, Pascal, that she owes him a favorable
answer?â
The doctor, by an effort, recovered his self-possession. The chill that
had seized him made itself felt, however, in the slowness with which he
spoke.
âThe offer, in effect, is very kind. Clotilde, as I said before, is very
sensible and she will accept it, if it is right that she should do so.â
The young girl, greatly agitated, rebelled at this.
âDo you wish to send me away, then, master? Maxime is very good, and I
thank him from the bottom of my heart. But to leave everything, my God!
To leave all that love me, all that I have loved until now!â
She made a despairing gesture, indicating the place and the people,
taking in all La Souleiade.
âBut,â responded Pascal, looking at her fixedly, âwhat if Maxime should
need you, what if you had a duty to fulfil toward him?â
Her eyes grew moist, and she remained for a moment trembling and
desperate; for she alone understood. The cruel vision again arose before
her--Maxime, helpless, driven, about in a little carriage by a servant,
like the neighbor whom she used to pity. Had she indeed any duty toward
a brother who for fifteen years had been a stranger to her? Did not
her duty lie where her heart was? Nevertheless, her distress of mind
continued; she still suffered in the struggle.
âListen, Maxime,â she said at last, âgive me also time to reflect. I
will see. Be assured that I am very grateful to you. And if you should
one day really have need of me, well, I should no doubt decide to go.â
This was all they could make her promise. Felicite, with her usual
vehemence, exhausted all her efforts in vain, while the doctor now
affected to say that she had given her word. Martine brought a cream,
without thinking of hiding her joy. To take away mademoiselle! what an
idea, in order that monsieur might die of grief at finding himself all
alone. And the dinner was delayed, too, by this unexpected incident.
They were still at the dessert when half-past eight struck.
Then Maxime grew restless, tapped the floor with his foot, and declared
that he must go.
At the station, whither they all accompanied him he kissed his sister a
last time, saying:
âRemember!â
âDonât be afraid,â declared Felicite, âwe are here to remind her of her
promise.â
The doctor smiled, and all three, as soon as the train was in motion,
waved their handkerchiefs.
On this day, after accompanying the grandmother to her door, Dr. Pascal
and Clotilde returned peacefully to La Souleiade, and spent a delightful
evening there. The constraint of the past few weeks, the secret
antagonism which had separated them, seemed to have vanished. Never had
it seemed so sweet to them to feel so united, inseparable. Doubtless it
was only this first pang of uneasiness suffered by their affection, this
threatened separation, the postponement of which delighted them. It was
for them like a return to health after an illness, a new hope of life.
They remained for long time in the warm night, under the plane trees,
listening to the crystal murmur of the fountain. And they did not even
speak, so profoundly did they enjoy the happiness of being together.
IV.
Ten days later the household had fallen back into its former state of
unhappiness. Pascal and Clotilde remained entire afternoons without
exchanging a word; and there were continual outbursts of ill-humor. Even
Martine was constantly out of temper. The home of these three had again
become a hell.
Then suddenly the condition of affairs was still further aggravated. A
Capuchin monk of great sanctity, such as often pass through the towns
of the South, came to Plassans to conduct a mission. The pulpit of
St. Saturnin resounded with his bursts of eloquence. He was a sort of
apostle, a popular and fiery orator, a florid speaker, much given to the
use of metaphors. And he preached on the nothingness of modern science
with an extraordinary mystical exaltation, denying the reality of this
world, and disclosing the unknown, the mysteries of the Beyond. All the
devout women of the town were full of excitement about his preaching.
On the very first evening on which Clotilde, accompanied by Martine,
attended the sermon, Pascal noticed her feverish excitement when
she returned. On the following day her excitement increased, and she
returned home later, having remained to pray for an hour in a dark
corner of a chapel. From this time she was never absent from the
services, returning languid, and with the luminous eyes of a seer; and
the Capuchinâs burning words haunted her; certain of his images stirred
her to ecstasy. She grew irritable, and she seemed to have conceived a
feeling of anger and contempt for every one and everything around her.
Pascal, filled with uneasiness, determined to have an explanation
with Martine. He came down early one morning as she was sweeping the
dining-room.
âYou know that I leave you and Clotilde free to go to church, if
that pleases you,â he said. âI do not believe in oppressing any oneâs
conscience. But I do not wish that you should make her sick.â
The servant, without stopping in her work, said in a low voice:
âPerhaps the sick people are those who donât think that they are sick.â
She said this with such an air of conviction that he smiled.
âYes,â he returned; âI am the sick soul whose conversion you pray for;
while both of you are in possession of health and of perfect wisdom.
Martine, if you continue to torment me and to torment yourselves, as you
are doing, I shall grow angry.â
He spoke in so furious and so harsh a voice that the servant stopped
suddenly in her sweeping, and looked him full in the face. An infinite
tenderness, an immense desolation passed over the face of the old maid
cloistered in his service. And tears filled her eyes and she hurried out
of the room stammering:
âAh, monsieur, you do not love us.â
Then Pascal, filled with an overwhelming sadness, gave up the contest.
His remorse increased for having shown so much tolerance, for not having
exercised his authority as master, in directing Clotildeâs education
and bringing up. In his belief that trees grew straight if they were
not interfered with, he had allowed her to grow up in her own way, after
teaching her merely to read and write. It was without any preconceived
plan, while aiding him in making his researches and correcting his
manuscripts, and simply by the force of circumstances, that she had
read everything and acquired a fondness for the natural sciences. How
bitterly he now regretted his indifference! What a powerful impulse he
might have given to this clear mind, so eager for knowledge, instead
of allowing it to go astray, and waste itself in that desire for the
Beyond, which Grandmother Felicite and the good Martine favored. While
he had occupied himself with facts, endeavoring to keep from going
beyond the phenomenon, and succeeding in doing so, through his
scientific discipline, he had seen her give all her thoughts to the
unknown, the mysterious. It was with her an obsession, an instinctive
curiosity which amounted to torture when she could not satisfy it. There
was in her a longing which nothing could appease, an irresistible call
toward the unattainable, the unknowable. Even when she was a child, and
still more, later, when she grew up, she went straight to the why and
the how of things, she demanded ultimate causes. If he showed her a
flower, she asked why this flower produced a seed, why this seed would
germinate. Then, it would be the mystery of birth and death, and the
unknown forces, and God, and all things. In half a dozen questions she
would drive him into a corner, obliging him each time to acknowledge his
fatal ignorance; and when he no longer knew what to answer her, when he
would get rid of her with a gesture of comic fury, she would give a gay
laugh of triumph, and go to lose herself again in her dreams, in
the limitless vision of all that we do not know, and all that we
may believe. Often she astounded him by her explanations. Her mind,
nourished on science, started from proved truths, but with such an
impetus that she bounded at once straight into the heaven of the
legends. All sorts of mediators passed there, angels and saints and
supernatural inspirations, modifying matter, endowing it with life; or,
again, it was only one single force, the soul of the world, working to
fuse things and beings in a final kiss of love in fifty centuries more.
She had calculated the number of them, she said.
For the rest, Pascal had never before seen her so excited. For the
past week, during which she had attended the Capuchinâs mission in the
cathedral, she had spent the days visibly in the expectation of the
sermon of the evening; and she went to hear it with the rapt exaltation
of a girl who is going to her first rendezvous of love. Then, on the
following day, everything about her declared her detachment from the
exterior life, from her accustomed existence, as if the visible world,
the necessary actions of every moment, were but a snare and a folly.
She retired within herself in the vision of what was not. Thus she had
almost completely given up her habitual occupations, abandoning herself
to a sort of unconquerable indolence, remaining for hours at a time
with her hands in her lap, her gaze lost in vacancy, rapt in the
contemplation of some far-off vision. Now she, who had been so active,
so early a riser, rose late, appearing barely in time for the second
breakfast, and it could not have been at her toilet that she spent these
long hours, for she forgot her feminine coquetry, and would come down
with her hair scarcely combed, negligently attired in a gown buttoned
awry, but even thus adorable, thanks to her triumphant youth. The
morning walks through La Souleiade that she had been so fond of, the
races from the top to the bottom of the terraces planted with olive and
almond trees, the visits to the pine grove balmy with the odor of resin,
the long sun baths in the hot threshing yard, she indulged in no more;
she preferred to remain shut up in her darkened room, from which not a
movement was to be heard. Then, in the afternoon, in the work room, she
would drag herself about languidly from chair to chair, doing nothing,
tired and disgusted with everything that had formerly interested her.
Pascal was obliged to renounce her assistance; a paper which he gave
her to copy remained three days untouched on her desk. She no longer
classified anything; she would not have stooped down to pick up a paper
from the floor. More than all, she abandoned the pastels, copies of
flowers from nature that she had been making, to serve as plates to a
work on artificial fecundations. Some large red mallows, of a new and
singular coloring, faded in their vase before she had finished copying
them. And yet for a whole afternoon she worked enthusiastically at
a fantastic design of dream flowers, an extraordinary efflorescence
blooming in the light of a miraculous sun, a burst of golden
spike-shaped rays in the center of large purple corollas, resembling
open hearts, whence shot, for pistils, a shower of stars, myriads of
worlds streaming into the sky, like a milky way.
âAh, my poor girl,â said the doctor to her on this day, âhow can you
lose your time in such conceits! And I waiting for the copy of those
mallows that you have left to die there. And you will make yourself ill.
There is no health, nor beauty, even, possible outside reality.â
Often now she did not answer, intrenching herself behind her fierce
convictions, not wishing to dispute. But doubtless he had this time
touched her beliefs to the quick.
âThere is no reality,â she answered sharply.
The doctor, amused by this bold philosophy from this big child, laughed.
âYes, I know,â he said; âour senses are fallible. We know this world
only through our senses, consequently it is possible that the world
does not exist. Let us open the door to madness, then; let us accept
as possible the most absurd chimeras, let us live in the realm of
nightmare, outside of laws and facts. For do you not see that there is
no longer any law if you suppress nature, and that the only thing that
gives life any interest is to believe in life, to love it, and to put
all the forces of our intelligence to the better understanding of it?â
She made a gesture of mingled indifference and bravado, and the
conversation dropped. Now she was laying large strokes of blue crayon
on the pastel, bringing out its flaming splendor in strong relief on the
background of a clear summer night.
But two days later, in consequence of a fresh discussion, matters went
still further amiss. In the evening, on leaving the table, Pascal went
up to the study to write, while she remained out of doors, sitting on
the terrace. Hours passed by, and he was surprised and uneasy, when
midnight struck, that he had not yet heard her return to her room. She
would have had to pass through the study, and he was very certain that
she had not passed unnoticed by him. Going downstairs, he found that
Martine was asleep; the vestibule door was not locked, and Clotilde
must have remained outside, oblivious of the flight of time. This often
happened to her on these warm nights, but she had never before remained
out so late.
The doctorâs uneasiness increased when he perceived on the terrace the
chair, now vacant, in which the young girl had been sitting. He had
expected to find her asleep in it. Since she was not there, why had she
not come in. Where could she have gone at such an hour? The night was
beautiful: a September night, still warm, with a wide sky whose dark,
velvety expanse was studded with stars; and from the depths of this
moonless sky the stars shone so large and bright that they lighted the
earth with a pale, mysterious radiance. He leaned over the balustrade of
the terrace, and examined the slope and the stone steps which led down
to the railroad; but there was not a movement. He saw nothing but the
round motionless tops of the little olive trees. The idea then occurred
to him that she must certainly be under the plane trees beside the
fountain, whose murmuring waters made perpetual coolness around. He
hurried there, and found himself enveloped in such thick darkness that
he, who knew every tree, was obliged to walk with outstretched hands
to avoid stumbling. Then he groped his way through the dark pine grove,
still without meeting any one. And at last he called in a muffled voice:
âClotilde! Clotilde!â
The darkness remained silent and impenetrable.
âClotilde! Clotilde!â he cried again, in a louder voice. Not a sound,
not a breath. The very echoes seemed asleep. His cry was drowned in the
infinitely soft lake of blue shadows. And then he called her with all
the force of his lungs. He returned to the plane trees. He went back to
the pine grove, beside himself with fright, scouring the entire domain.
Then, suddenly, he found himself in the threshing yard.
At this cool and tranquil hour, the immense yard, the vast circular
paved court, slept too. It was so many years since grain had been
threshed here that grass had sprung up among the stones, quickly
scorched a russet brown by the sun, resembling the long threads of
a woolen carpet. And, under the tufts of this feeble vegetation, the
ancient pavement did not cool during the whole summer, smoking from
sunset, exhaling in the night the heat stored up from so many sultry
noons.
The yard stretched around, bare and deserted, in the cooling atmosphere,
under the infinite calm of the sky, and Pascal was crossing it to hurry
to the orchard, when he almost fell over a form that he had not
before observed, extended at full length upon the ground. He uttered a
frightened cry.
âWhat! Are you here?â
Clotilde did not deign even to answer. She was lying on her back, her
hands clasped under the back of her neck, her face turned toward the
sky; and in her pale countenance, only her large shining eyes were
visible.
âAnd here I have been tormenting myself and calling you for an hour
past! Did you not hear me shouting?â
She at last unclosed her lips.
âYes.â
âThen that is very senseless! Why did you not answer me?â
But she fell back into her former silence, refusing all explanation, and
with a stubborn brow kept her gaze fixed steadily on the sky.
âThere, come in and go to bed, naughty child. You will tell me
to-morrow.â
She did not stir, however; he begged her ten times over to go into the
house, but she would not move. He ended by sitting down beside her on
the short grass, through which penetrated the warmth of the pavement
beneath.
âBut you cannot sleep out of doors. At least answer me. What are you
doing here?â
âI am looking.â
And from her large eyes, fixed and motionless, her gaze seemed to mount
up among the stars. She seemed wholly absorbed in the contemplation of
the pure starry depths of the summer sky.
âAh, master!â she continued, in a low monotone; âhow narrow and limited
is all that you know compared to what there is surely up there. Yes,
if I did not answer you it was because I was thinking of you, and I was
filled with grief. You must not think me bad.â
In her voice there was a thrill of such tenderness that it moved him
profoundly. He stretched himself on the grass beside her, so that their
elbows touched, and they went on talking.
âI greatly fear, my dear, that your griefs are not rational. It gives
you pain to think of me. Why so?â
âOh, because of things that I should find it hard to explain to you; I
am not a _savante_. You have taught me much, however, and I have learned
more myself, being with you. Besides, they are things that I feel.
Perhaps I might try to tell them to you, as we are all alone here, and
the night is so beautiful.â
Her full heart overflowed, after hours of meditation, in the peaceful
confidence of the beautiful night. He did not speak, fearing to disturb
her, but awaited her confidences in silence.
âWhen I was a little girl and you used to talk to me about science, it
seemed to me that you were speaking to me of God, your words burned so
with faith and hope. Nothing seemed impossible to you. With science you
were going to penetrate the secret of the world, and make the perfect
happiness of humanity a reality. According to you, we were progressing
with giant strides. Each day brought its discovery, its certainty. Ten,
fifty, a hundred years more, perhaps, and the heavens would open and we
should see truth face to face. Well, the years pass, and nothing opens,
and truth recedes.â
âYou are an impatient girl,â he answered simply. âIf ten centuries more
be necessary we must only wait for them to pass.â
âIt is true. I cannot wait. I need to know; I need to be happy at once,
and to know everything at once, and to be perfectly and forever happy.
Oh, that is what makes me suffer, not to be able to reach at a bound
complete knowledge, not to be able to rest in perfect felicity, freed
from scruples and doubts. Is it living to advance with tortoiselike pace
in the darkness, not to be able to enjoy an hourâs tranquillity, without
trembling at the thought of the coming anguish? No, no! All knowledge
and all happiness in a single day? Science has promised them to us, and
if she does not give them to us, then she fails in her engagements.â
Then he, too, began to grow heated.
âBut what you are saying is folly, little girl. Science is not
revelation. It marches at its human pace, its very effort is its glory.
And then it is not true that science has promised happiness.â
She interrupted him hastily.
âHow, not true! Open your books up there, then. You know that I have
read them. Do they not overflow with promises? To read them one would
think we were marching on to the conquest of earth and heaven. They
demolish everything, and they swear to replace everything--and that
by pure reason, with stability and wisdom. Doubtless I am like the
children. When I am promised anything I wish that it shall be given
me at once. My imagination sets to work, and the object must be very
beautiful to satisfy me. But it would have been easy not to have
promised anything. And above all, at this hour, in view of my eager and
painful longing, it would be very ill done to tell me that nothing has
been promised me.â
He made a gesture, a simple gesture of protestation and impatience, in
the serene and silent night.
âIn any case,â she continued, âscience has swept away all our past
beliefs. The earth is bare, the heavens are empty, and what do you wish
that I should become, even if you acquit science of having inspired the
hopes I have conceived? For I cannot live without belief and without
happiness. On what solid ground shall I build my house when science
shall have demolished the old world, and while she is waiting to
construct the new? All the ancient city has fallen to pieces in this
catastrophe of examination and analysis; and all that remains of it is a
mad population vainly seeking a shelter among its ruins, while anxiously
looking for a solid and permanent refuge where they may begin life
anew. You must not be surprised, then, at our discouragement and our
impatience. We can wait no longer. Since tardy science has failed in her
promises, we prefer to fall back on the old beliefs, which for centuries
have sufficed for the happiness of the world.â
âAh! that is just it,â he responded in a low voice; âwe are just at the
turning point, at the end of the century, fatigued and exhausted with
the appalling accumulation of knowledge which it has set moving. And it
is the eternal need for falsehood, the eternal need for illusion which
distracts humanity, and throws it back upon the delusive charm of the
unknown. Since we can never know all, what is the use of trying to know
more than we know already? Since the truth, when we have attained it,
does not confer immediate and certain happiness, why not be satisfied
with ignorance, the darkened cradle in which humanity slept the deep
sleep of infancy? Yes, this is the aggressive return of the mysterious,
it is the reaction against a century of experimental research. And this
had to be; desertions were to be expected, since every need could not
be satisfied at once. But this is only a halt; the onward march will
continue, up there, beyond our view, in the illimitable fields of
space.â
For a moment they remained silent, still motionless on their backs,
their gaze lost among the myriads of worlds shining in the dark sky. A
falling star shot across the constellation of Cassiopeia, like a flaming
arrow. And the luminous universe above turned slowly on its axis, in
solemn splendor, while from the dark earth around them arose only a
faint breath, like the soft, warm breath of a sleeping woman.
âTell me,â he said, in his good-natured voice, âdid your Capuchin turn
your head this evening, then?â
âYes,â she answered frankly; âhe says from the pulpit things that
disturb me. He preaches against everything you have taught me, and it is
as if the knowledge which I owe to you, transformed into a poison, were
consuming me. My God! What is going to become of me?â
âMy poor child! It is terrible that you should torture yourself in
this way! And yet I had been quite tranquil about you, for you have
a well-balanced mind--you have a good, little, round, clear, solid
headpiece, as I have often told you. You will soon calm down. But what
confusion in the brains of others, at the end of the century, if you,
who are so sane, are troubled! Have you not faith, then?â
She answered only by a heavy sigh.
âAssuredly, viewed from the standpoint of happiness, faith is a strong
staff for the traveler to lean upon, and the march becomes easy and
tranquil when one is fortunate enough to possess it.â
âOh, I no longer know whether I believe or not!â she cried. âThere are
days when I believe, and there are other days when I side with you and
with your books. It is you who have disturbed me; it is through you I
suffer. And perhaps all my suffering springs from this, from my revolt
against you whom I love. No, no! tell me nothing; do not tell me that I
shall soon calm down. At this moment that would only irritate me still
more. I know well that you deny the supernatural. The mysterious for you
is only the inexplicable. Even you concede that we shall never know all;
and therefore you consider that the only interest life can have is the
continual conquest over the unknown, the eternal effort to know more.
Ah, I know too much already to believe. You have already succeeded but
too well in shaking my faith, and there are times when it seems to me
that this will kill me.â
He took her hand that lay on the still warm grass, and pressed it hard.
âNo, no; it is life that frightens you, little girl. And how right you
are in saying that happiness consists in continual effort. For from this
time forward tranquil ignorance is impossible. There is no halt to be
looked for, no tranquillity in renunciation and wilful blindness.
We must go on, go on in any case with life, which goes on always.
Everything that is proposed, a return to the past, to dead religions,
patched up religions arranged to suit new wants, is a snare. Learn to
know life, then; to love it, live it as it ought to be lived--that is
the only wisdom.â
But she shook off his hand angrily. And her voice trembled with
vexation.
âLife is horrible. How do you wish me to live it tranquil and happy?
It is a terrible light that your science throws upon the world. Your
analysis opens up all the wounds of humanity to display their horror.
You tell everything; you speak too plainly; you leave us nothing but
disgust for people and for things, without any possible consolation.â
He interrupted her with a cry of ardent conviction.
âWe tell everything. Ah, yes; in order to know everything and to remedy
everything!â
Her anger rose, and she sat erect.
âIf even equality and justice existed in your nature--but you
acknowledge it yourself, life is for the strongest, the weak infallibly
perishes because he is weak--there are no two beings equal, either in
health, in beauty, or intelligence; everything is left to haphazard
meeting, to the chance of selection. And everything falls into ruin,
when grand and sacred justice ceases to exist.â
âIt is true,â he said, in an undertone, as if speaking to himself,
âthere is no such thing as equality. No society based upon it could
continue to exist. For centuries, men thought to remedy evil by
character. But that idea is being exploded, and now they propose
justice. Is nature just? I think her logical, rather. Logic is perhaps
a natural and higher justice, going straight to the sum of the common
labor, to the grand final labor.â
âThen it is justice,â she cried, âthat crushes the individual for the
happiness of the race, that destroys an enfeebled species to fatten
the victorious species. No, no; that is crime. There is in that only
foulness and murder. He was right this evening in the church. The earth
is corrupt, science only serves to show its rottenness. It is on high
that we must all seek a refuge. Oh, master, I entreat you, let me save
myself, let me save you!â
She burst into tears, and the sound of her sobs rose despairingly on
the stillness of the night. He tried in vain to soothe her, her voice
dominated his.
âListen to me, master. You know that I love you, for you are everything
to me. And it is you who are the cause of all my suffering. I can
scarcely endure it when I think that we are not in accord, that we
should be separated forever if we were both to die to-morrow. Why will
you not believe?â
He still tried to reason with her.
âCome, donât be foolish, my dear--â
But she threw herself on her knees, she seized him by the hands, she
clung to him with a feverish force. And she sobbed louder and louder, in
such a clamor of despair that the dark fields afar off were startled by
it.
âListen to me, he said it in the church. You must change your life and
do penance; you must burn everything belonging to your past errors--your
books, your papers, your manuscripts. Make this sacrifice, master, I
entreat it of you on my knees. And you will see the delightful existence
we shall lead together.â
At last he rebelled.
âNo, this is too much. Be silent!â
âIf you listen to me, master, you will do what I wish. I assure you
that I am horribly unhappy, even in loving you as I love you. There
is something wanting in our affection. So far it has been profound but
unavailing, and I have an irresistible longing to fill it, oh, with all
that is divine and eternal. What can be wanting to us but God? Kneel
down and pray with me!â
With an abrupt movement he released himself, angry in his turn.
âBe silent; you are talking nonsense. I have left you free, leave me
free.â
âMaster, master! it is our happiness that I desire! I will take you far,
far away. We will go to some solitude to live there in God!â
âBe silent! No, never!â
Then they remained for a moment confronting each other, mute and
menacing. Around them stretched La Souleiade in the deep silence of the
night, with the light shadows of its olive trees, the darkness of its
pine and plane trees, in which the saddened voice of the fountain was
singing, and above their heads it seemed as if the spacious sky, studded
with stars, shuddered and grew pale, although the dawn was still far
off.
Clotilde raised her arm as if to point to this infinite, shuddering sky;
but with a quick gesture Pascal seized her hand and drew it down toward
the earth in his. And no word further was spoken; they were beside
themselves with rage and hate. The quarrel was fierce and bitter.
She drew her hand away abruptly, and sprang backward, like some proud,
untamable animal, rearing; then she rushed quickly through the darkness
toward the house. He heard the patter of her little boots on the stones
of the yard, deadened afterward by the sand of the walk. He, on his
side, already grieved and uneasy, called her back in urgent tones. But
she ran on without answering, without hearing. Alarmed, and with a heavy
heart, he hurried after her, and rounded the clump of plane trees just
in time to see her rush into the house like a whirlwind. He darted in
after her, ran up the stairs, and struck against the door of her room,
which she violently bolted. And here he stopped and grew calm, by a
strong effort resisting the desire to cry out, to call her again, to
break in the door so as to see her once more, to convince her, to have
her all to himself. For a moment he remained motionless, chilled by the
deathlike silence of the room, from which not the faintest sound issued.
Doubtless she had thrown herself on the bed, and was stifling her cries
and her sobs in the pillow. He determined at last to go downstairs
again and close the hall door, and then he returned softly and listened,
waiting for some sound of moaning. And day was breaking when he went
disconsolately to bed, choking back his tears.
Thenceforward it was war without mercy. Pascal felt himself spied upon,
trapped, menaced. He was no longer master of his house; he had no longer
any home. The enemy was always there, forcing him to be constantly on
his guard, to lock up everything. One after the other, two vials of
nerve-substance which he had compounded were found in fragments, and he
was obliged to barricade himself in his room, where he could be heard
pounding for days together, without showing himself even at mealtime.
He no longer took Clotilde with him on his visiting days, because she
discouraged his patients by her attitude of aggressive incredulity. But
from the moment he left the house, the doctor had only one desire--to
return to it quickly, for he trembled lest he should find his locks
forced, and his drawers rifled on his return. He no longer employed
the young girl to classify and copy his notes, for several of them had
disappeared, as if they had been carried away by the wind. He did not
even venture to employ her to correct his proofs, having ascertained
that she had cut out of an article an entire passage, the sentiment of
which offended her Catholic belief. And thus she remained idle, prowling
about the rooms, and having an abundance of time to watch for an
occasion which would put in her possession the key of the large press.
This was her dream, the plan which she revolved in her mind during her
long silence, while her eyes shone and her hands burned with fever--to
have the key, to open the press, to take and burn everything in an
_auto da fe_ which would be pleasing to God. A few pages of manuscript,
forgotten by him on a corner of the table, while he went to wash his
hands and put on his coat, had disappeared, leaving behind only a little
heap of ashes in the fireplace. He could no longer leave a scrap of
paper about. He carried away everything; he hid everything. One evening,
when he had remained late with a patient, as he was returning home in
the dusk a wild terror seized him at the faubourg, at sight of a thick
black smoke rising up in clouds that darkened the heavens. Was it not
La Souleiade that was burning down, set on fire by the bonfire made with
his papers? He ran toward the house, and was reassured only on seeing in
a neighboring field a fire of roots burning slowly.
But how terrible are the tortures of the scientist who feels himself
menaced in this way in the labors of his intellect! The discoveries
which he has made, the writings which he has counted upon leaving
behind him, these are his pride, they are creatures of his blood--his
children--and whoever destroys, whoever burns them, burns a part of
himself. Especially, in this perpetual lying in wait for the creatures
of his brain, was Pascal tortured by the thought that the enemy was in
his house, installed in his very heart, and that he loved her in spite
of everything, this creature whom he had made what she was. He was left
disarmed, without possible defense; not wishing to act, and having
no other resources than to watch with vigilance. On all sides the
investment was closing around him. He fancied he felt the little
pilfering hands stealing into his pockets. He had no longer any
tranquillity, even with the doors closed, for he feared that he was
being robbed through the crevices.
âBut, unhappy child,â he cried one day, âI love but you in the world,
and you are killing me! And yet you love me, too; you act in this way
because you love me, and it is abominable. It would be better to have
done with it all at once, and throw ourselves into the river with a
stone tied around our necks.â
She did not answer, but her dauntless eyes said ardently that she would
willingly die on the instant, if it were with him.
âAnd if I should suddenly die to-night, what would happen to-morrow?
You would empty the press, you would empty the drawers, you would make
a great heap of all my works and burn them! You would, would you not?
Do you know that that would be a real murder, as much as if you
assassinated some one? And what abominable cowardice, to kill the
thoughts!â
âNo,â she said at last, in a low voice; âto kill evil, to prevent it
from spreading and springing up again!â
All their explanations only served to kindle anew their anger. And they
had terrible ones. And one evening, when old Mme. Rougon had chanced in
on one of these quarrels, she remained alone with Pascal, after Clotilde
had fled to hide herself in her room. There was silence for a moment. In
spite of the heartbroken air which she had assumed, a wicked joy shone
in the depths of her sparkling eyes.
âBut your unhappy house is a hell!â she cried at last.
The doctor avoided an answer by a gesture. He had always felt that his
mother backed the young girl, inflaming her religious faith, utilizing
this ferment of revolt to bring trouble into his house. He was not
deceived. He knew perfectly well that the two women had seen each
other during the day, and that he owed to this meeting, to a skilful
embittering of Clotildeâs mind, the frightful scene at which he still
trembled. Doubtless his mother had come to learn what mischief had been
wrought, and to see if the _denouement_ was not at last at hand.
âThings cannot go on in this way,â she resumed. âWhy do you not separate
since you can no longer agree. You ought to send her to her brother
Maxime. He wrote to me not long since asking her again.â
He straightened himself, pale and determined.
âTo part angry with each other? Ah, no, no! that would be an eternal
remorse, an incurable wound. If she must one day go away, I wish that we
may be able to love each other at a distance. But why go away? Neither
of us complains of the other.â
Felicite felt that she had been too hasty. Therefore she assumed her
hypocritical, conciliating air.
âOf course, if it pleases you both to quarrel, no one has anything to
say in the matter. Only, my poor friend, permit me, in that case, to say
that I think Clotilde is not altogether in the wrong. You force me to
confess that I saw her a little while ago; yes, it is better that you
should know, notwithstanding my promise to be silent. Well, she is not
happy; she makes a great many complaints, and you may imagine that I
scolded her and preached complete submission to her. But that does not
prevent me from being unable to understand you myself, and from thinking
that you do everything you can to make yourself unhappy.â
She sat down in a corner of the room, and obliged him to sit down with
her, seeming delighted to have him here alone, at her mercy. She had
already, more than once before, tried to force him to an explanation in
this way, but he had always avoided it. Although she had tortured
him for years past, and he knew her thoroughly, he yet remained
a deferential son, he had sworn never to abandon this stubbornly
respectful attitude. Thus, the moment she touched certain subjects, he
took refuge in absolute silence.
âCome,â she continued; âI can understand that you should not wish to
yield to Clotilde; but to me? How if I were to entreat you to make me
the sacrifice of all those abominable papers which are there in the
press! Consider for an instant if you should die suddenly, and those
papers should fall into strange hands. We should all be disgraced. You
would not wish that, would you? What is your object, then? Why do you
persist in so dangerous a game? Promise me that you will burn them.â
He remained silent for a time, but at last he answered:
âMother, I have already begged of you never to speak on that subject. I
cannot do what you ask.â
âBut at least,â she cried, âgive me a reason. Any one would think our
family was as indifferent to you as that drove of oxen passing below
there. Yet you belong to it. Oh, I know you do all you can not to belong
to it! I myself am sometimes astonished at you. I ask myself where you
can have come from. But for all that, it is very wicked of you to run
this risk, without stopping to think of the grief you are causing to me,
your mother. It is simply wicked.â
He grew still paler, and yielding for an instant to his desire to defend
himself, in spite of his determination to keep silent, he said:
âYou are hard; you are wrong. I have always believed in the necessity,
the absolute efficacy of truth. It is true that I tell the truth about
others and about myself, and it is because I believe firmly that in
telling the truth I do the only good possible. In the first place, those
papers are not intended for the public; they are only personal notes
which it would be painful to me to part with. And then, I know well that
you would not burn only them--all my other works would also be thrown
into the fire. Would they not? And that is what I do not wish; do you
understand? Never, while I live, shall a line of my writing be destroyed
here.â
But he already regretted having said so much, for he saw that she was
urging him, leading him on to the cruel explanation she desired.
âThen finish, and tell me what it is that you reproach us with. Yes, me,
for instance; what do you reproach me with? Not with having brought you
up with so much difficulty. Ah, fortune was slow to win! If we enjoy
a little happiness now, we have earned it hard. Since you have seen
everything, and since you put down everything in your papers, you can
testify with truth that the family has rendered greater services to
others than it has ever received. On two occasions, but for us, Plassans
would have been in a fine pickle. And it is perfectly natural that we
should have reaped only ingratitude and envy, to the extent that even
to-day the whole town would be enchanted with a scandal that should
bespatter us with mud. You cannot wish that, and I am sure that you will
do justice to the dignity of my attitude since the fall of the Empire,
and the misfortunes from which France will no doubt never recover.â
âLet France rest, mother,â he said, speaking again, for she had touched
the spot where she knew he was most sensitive. âFrance is tenacious of
life, and I think she is going to astonish the world by the rapidity of
her convalescence. True, she has many elements of corruption. I have not
sought to hide them, I have rather, perhaps, exposed them to view. But
you greatly misunderstand me if you imagine that I believe in her final
dissolution, because I point out her wounds and her lesions. I believe
in the life which ceaselessly eliminates hurtful substances, which makes
new flesh to fill the holes eaten away by gangrene, which infallibly
advances toward health, toward constant renovation, amid impurities and
death.â
He was growing excited, and he was conscious of it, and making an angry
gesture, he spoke no more. His mother had recourse to tears, a few
little tears which came with difficulty, and which were quickly dried.
And the fears which saddened her old age returned to her, and she
entreated him to make his peace with God, if only out of regard for the
family. Had she not given an example of courage ever since the downfall
of the Empire? Did not all Plassans, the quarter of St. Marc, the
old quarter and the new town, render homage to the noble attitude she
maintained in her fall? All she asked was to be helped; she demanded
from all her children an effort like her own. Thus she cited the example
of Eugene, the great man who had fallen from so lofty a height, and who
resigned himself to being a simple deputy, defending until his latest
breath the fallen government from which he had derived his glory. She
was also full of eulogies of Aristide, who had never lost hope, who had
reconquered, under the new government, an exalted position, in spite of
the terrible and unjust catastrophe which had for a moment buried him
under the ruins of the Union Universelle. And would he, Pascal, hold
himself aloof, would he do nothing that she might die in peace, in the
joy of the final triumph of the Rougons, he who was so intelligent, so
affectionate, so good? He would go to mass, would he not, next Sunday?
and he would burn all those vile papers, only to think of which made
her ill. She entreated, commanded, threatened. But he no longer answered
her, calm and invincible in his attitude of perfect deference. He wished
to have no discussion. He knew her too well either to hope to convince
her or to venture to discuss the past with her.
âWhy!â she cried, when she saw that he was not to be moved, âyou do not
belong to us. I have always said so. You are a disgrace to us.â
He bent his head and said:
âMother, when you reflect you will forgive me.â
On this day Felicite was beside herself with rage when she went away;
and when she met Martine at the door of the house, in front of the plane
trees, she unburdened her mind to her, without knowing that Pascal, who
had just gone into his room, heard all. She gave vent to her resentment,
vowing, in spite of everything, that she would in the end succeed in
obtaining possession of the papers and destroying them, since he did
not wish to make the sacrifice. But what turned the doctor cold was
the manner in which Martine, in a subdued voice, soothed her. She was
evidently her accomplice. She repeated that it was necessary to wait;
not to do anything hastily; that mademoiselle and she had taken a vow to
get the better of monsieur, by not leaving him an hourâs peace. They had
sworn it. They would reconcile him with the good God, because it was
not possible that an upright man like monsieur should remain without
religion. And the voices of the two women became lower and lower, until
they finally sank to a whisper, an indistinct murmur of gossiping and
plotting, of which he caught only a word here and there; orders given,
measures to be taken, an invasion of his personal liberty. When his
mother at last departed, with her light step and slender, youthful
figure, he saw that she went away very well satisfied.
Then came a moment of weakness, of utter despair. Pascal dropped into a
chair, and asked himself what was the use of struggling, since the only
beings he loved allied themselves against him. Martine, who would have
thrown herself into the fire at a word from him, betraying him in this
way for his good! And Clotilde leagued with this servant, plotting with
her against him in holes and corners, seeking her aid to set traps for
him! Now he was indeed alone; he had around him only traitresses, who
poisoned the very air he breathed. But these two still loved him. He
might perhaps have succeeded in softening them, but when he knew that
his mother urged them on, he understood their fierce persistence, and
he gave up the hope of winning them back. With the timidity of a man
who had spent his life in study, aloof from women, notwithstanding
his secret passion, the thought that they were there to oppose him, to
attempt to bend him to their will, overwhelmed him. He felt that some
one of them was always behind him. Even when he shut himself up in his
room, he fancied that they were on the other side of the wall; and
he was constantly haunted by the idea that they would rob him of his
thought, if they could perceive it in his brain, before he should have
formulated it.
This was assuredly the period in his life in which Dr. Pascal was most
unhappy. To live constantly on the defensive, as he was obliged to do,
crushed him, and it seemed to him as if the ground on which his house
stood was no longer his, as if it was receding from beneath his feet.
He now regretted keenly that he had not married, and that he had no
children. Had not he himself been afraid of life? And had he not been
well punished for his selfishness? This regret for not having children
now never left him. His eyes now filled with tears whenever he met on
the road bright-eyed little girls who smiled at him. True, Clotilde was
there, but his affection for her was of a different kind--crossed at
present by storms--not a calm, infinitely sweet affection, like that for
a child with which he might have soothed his lacerated heart. And then,
no doubt what he desired in his isolation, feeling that his days were
drawing to an end, was above all, continuance; in a child he would
survive, he would live forever. The more he suffered, the greater the
consolation he would have found in bequeathing this suffering, in the
faith which he still had in life. He considered himself indemnified
for the physiological defects of his family. But even the thought that
heredity sometimes passes over a generation, and that the disorders of
his ancestors might reappear in a child of his did not deter him; and
this unknown child, in spite of the old corrupt stock, in spite of the
long succession of execrable relations, he desired ardently at certain
times: as one desires unexpected gain, rare happiness, the stroke of
fortune which is to console and enrich forever. In the shock which his
other affections had received, his heart bled because it was too late.
One sultry night toward the end of September, Pascal found himself
unable to sleep. He opened one of the windows of his room; the sky
was dark, some storm must be passing in the distance, for there was a
continuous rumbling of thunder. He could distinguish vaguely the dark
mass of the plane trees, which occasional flashes of lightning detached,
in a dull green, from the darkness. His soul was full of anguish; he
lived over again the last unhappy days, days of fresh quarrels, of
torture caused by acts of treachery, by suspicions, which grew stronger
every day, when a sudden recollection made him start. In his fear of
being robbed, he had finally adopted the plan of carrying the key of the
large press in his pocket. But this afternoon, oppressed by the heat, he
had taken off his jacket, and he remembered having seen Clotilde hang
it up on a nail in the study. A sudden pang of terror shot through him,
sharp and cold as a steel point; if she had felt the key in the pocket
she had stolen it. He hastened to search the jacket which he had a
little before thrown upon a chair; the key was not here. At this very
moment he was being robbed; he had the clear conviction of it. Two
oâclock struck. He did not again dress himself, but, remaining in his
trousers only, with his bare feet thrust into slippers, his chest bare
under his unfastened nightshirt, he hastily pushed open the door, and
rushed into the workroom, his candle in his hand.
âAh! I knew it,â he cried. âThief! Assassin!â
It was true; Clotilde was there, undressed like himself, her bare feet
covered by canvas slippers, her legs bare, her arms bare, her shoulders
bare, clad only in her chemise and a short skirt. Through caution, she
had not brought a candle. She had contented herself with opening one of
the window shutters, and the continual lightning flashes of the storm
which was passing southward in the dark sky, sufficed her, bathing
everything in a livid phosphorescence. The old press, with its broad
sides, was wide open. Already she had emptied the top shelf, taking down
the papers in armfuls, and throwing them on the long table in the middle
of the room, where they lay in a confused heap. And with feverish haste,
fearing lest she should not have the time to burn them, she was making
them up into bundles, intending to hide them, and send them afterward
to her grandmother, when the sudden flare of the candle, lighting up
the room, caused her to stop short in an attitude of surprise and
resistance.
âYou rob me; you assassinate me!â repeated Pascal furiously.
She still held one of the bundles in her bare arms. He wished to take
it away from her, but she pressed it to her with all her strength,
obstinately resolved upon her work of destruction, without showing
confusion or repentance, like a combatant who has right upon his side.
Then, madly, blindly, he threw himself upon her, and they struggled
together. He clutched her bare flesh so that he hurt her.
âKill me!â she gasped. âKill me, or I shall destroy everything!â
He held her close to him, with so rough a grasp that she could scarcely
breathe, crying:
âWhen a child steals, it is punished!â
A few drops of blood appeared and trickled down her rounded shoulder,
where an abrasion had cut the delicate satin skin. And, on the instant,
seeing her so breathless, so divine, in her virginal slender height,
with her tapering limbs, her supple arms, her slim body with its
slender, firm throat, he released her. By a last effort he tore the
package from her.
âAnd you shall help me to put them all up there again, by Heaven! Come
here: begin by arranging them on the table. Obey me, do you hear?â
âYes, master!â
She approached, and helped him to arrange the papers, subjugated,
crushed by this masculine grasp, which had entered into her flesh, as it
were. The candle which flared up in the heavy night air, lighted them;
and the distant rolling of the thunder still continued, the window
facing the storm seeming on fire.
V.
For an instant Pascal looked at the papers, the heap of which seemed
enormous, lying thus in disorder on the long table that stood in the
middle of the room. In the confusion several of the blue paper envelopes
had burst open, and their contents had fallen out--letters, newspaper
clippings, documents on stamped paper, and manuscript notes.
He was already mechanically beginning to seek out the names written on
the envelopes in large characters, to classify the packages again, when,
with an abrupt gesture, he emerged from the somber meditation into which
he had fallen. And turning to Clotilde who stood waiting, pale, silent,
and erect, he said:
âListen to me; I have always forbidden you to read these papers, and I
know that you have obeyed me. Yes, I had scruples of delicacy. It is not
that you are an ignorant girl, like so many others, for I have allowed
you to learn everything concerning man and woman, which is assuredly bad
only for bad natures. But to what end disclose to you too early these
terrible truths of human life? I have therefore spared you the history
of our family, which is the history of every family, of all humanity; a
great deal of evil and a great deal of good.â
He paused as if to confirm himself in his resolution and then resumed
quite calmly and with supreme energy:
âYou are twenty-five years old; you ought to know. And then the life we
are leading is no longer possible. You live and you make me live in a
constant nightmare, with your ecstatic dreams. I prefer to show you the
reality, however execrable it may be. Perhaps the blow which it will
inflict upon you will make of you the woman you ought to be. We will
classify these papers again together, and read them, and learn from them
a terrible lesson of life!â
Then, as she still continued motionless, he resumed:
âCome, we must be able to see well. Light those other two candles
there.â
He was seized by a desire for light, a flood of light; he would have
desired the blinding light of the sun; and thinking that the light of
the three candles was not sufficient, he went into his room for a pair
of three-branched candelabra which were there. The nine candles were
blazing, yet neither of them, in their disorder--he with his chest
bare, she with her left shoulder stained with blood, her throat and arms
bare--saw the other. It was past two oâclock, but neither of them had
any consciousness of the hour; they were going to spend the night in
this eager desire for knowledge, without feeling the need of sleep,
outside time and space. The mutterings of the storm, which, through the
open window, they could see gathering, grew louder and louder.
Clotilde had never before seen in Pascalâs eyes the feverish light which
burned in them now. He had been overworking himself for some time past,
and his mental sufferings made him at times abrupt, in spite of his
good-natured complacency. But it seemed as if an infinite tenderness,
trembling with fraternal pity, awoke within him, now that he was about
to plunge into the painful truths of existence; and it was something
emanating from himself, something very great and very good which was to
render innocuous the terrible avalanche of facts which was impending. He
was determined that he would reveal everything, since it was necessary
that he should do so in order to remedy everything. Was not this an
unanswerable, a final argument for evolution, the story of these beings
who were so near to them? Such was life, and it must be lived. Doubtless
she would emerge from it like the steel tempered by the fire, full of
tolerance and courage.
âThey are setting you against me,â he resumed; âthey are making you
commit abominable acts, and I wish to restore your conscience to you.
When you know, you will judge and you will act. Come here, and read with
me.â
She obeyed. But these papers, about which her grandmother had spoken so
angrily, frightened her a little; while a curiosity that grew with
every moment awoke within her. And then, dominated though she was by the
virile authority which had just constrained and subjugated her, she did
not yet yield. But might she not listen to him, read with him? Did she
not retain the right to refuse or to give herself afterward? He spoke at
last.
âWill you come?â
âYes, master, I will.â
He showed her first the genealogical tree of the Rougon-Macquarts. He
did not usually lock it in the press, but kept it in the desk in his
room, from which he had taken it when he went there for the candelabra.
For more than twenty years past he had kept it up to date, inscribing
the births, deaths, marriages, and other important events that had taken
place in the family, making brief notes in each case, in accordance with
his theory of heredity.
It was a large sheet of paper, yellow with age, with folds cut by wear,
on which was drawn boldly a symbolical tree, whose branches spread and
subdivided into five rows of broad leaves; and each leaf bore a name,
and contained, in minute handwriting, a biography, a hereditary case.
A scientistâs joy took possession of the doctor at sight of this labor
of twenty years, in which the laws of heredity established by him were
so clearly and so completely applied.
âLook, child! You know enough about the matter, you have copied enough
of my notes to understand. Is it not beautiful? A document so complete,
so conclusive, in which there is not a gap? It is like an experiment
made in the laboratory, a problem stated and solved on the blackboard.
You see below, the trunk, the common stock, Aunt Dide; then the three
branches issuing from it, the legitimate branch, Pierre Rougon, and the
two illegitimate branches, Ursule Macquart and Antoine Macquart; then,
new branches arise, and ramify, on one side, Maxime, Clotilde, and
Victor, the three children of Saccard, and Angelique, the daughter of
Sidonie Rougon; on the other, Pauline, the daughter of Lisa Macquart,
and Claude, Jacques, Etienne, and Anna, the four children of Gervaise,
her sister; there, at the extremity, is Jean, their brother, and here in
the middle, you see what I call the knot, the legitimate issue and the
illegitimate issue, uniting in Marthe Rougon and her cousin Francois
Mouret, to give rise to three new branches, Octave, Serge, and Desiree
Mouret; while there is also the issue of Ursule and the hatter Mouret;
Silvere, whose tragic death you know; Helene and her daughter Jean;
finally, at the top are the latest offshoots, our poor Charles, your
brother Maximeâs son, and two other children, who are dead, Jacques
Louis, the son of Claude Lantier, and Louiset, the son of Anna Coupeau.
In all five generations, a human tree which, for five springs already,
five springtides of humanity, has sent forth shoots, at the impulse of
the sap of eternal life.â
He became more and more animated, pointing out each case on the sheet of
old yellow paper, as if it were an anatomical chart.
âAnd as I have already said, everything is here. You see in direct
heredity, the differentiations, that of the mother, Silvere, Lisa,
Desiree, Jacques, Louiset, yourself; that of the father, Sidonie,
Francois, Gervaise, Octave, Jacques, Louis. Then there are the three
cases of crossing: by conjugation, Ursule, Aristide, Anna, Victor;
by dissemination, Maxime, Serge, Etienne; by fusion, Antoine, Eugene,
Claude. I even noted a fourth case, a very remarkable one, an
even cross, Pierre and Pauline; and varieties are established, the
differentiation of the mother, for example, often accords with the
physical resemblance of the father; or, it is the contrary which takes
place, so that, in the crossing, the physical and mental predominance
remains with one parent or the other, according to circumstances. Then
here is indirect heredity, that of the collateral branches. I have but
one well established example of this, the striking personal resemblance
of Octave Mouret to his uncle Eugene Rougon. I have also but one
example of transmission by influence, Anna, the daughter of Gervaise and
Coupeau, who bore a striking resemblance, especially in her childhood,
to Lantier, her motherâs first lover. But what I am very rich in is in
examples of reversion to the original stock--the three finest cases,
Marthe, Jeanne, and Charles, resembling Aunt Dide; the resemblance
thus passing over one, two, and three generations. This is certainly
exceptional, for I scarcely believe in atavism; it seems to me that
the new elements brought by the partners, accidents, and the infinite
variety of crossings must rapidly efface particular characteristics, so
as to bring back the individual to the general type. And there remains
variation--Helene, Jean, Angelique. This is the combination, the
chemical mixture in which the physical and mental characteristics of the
parents are blended, without any of their traits seeming to reappear in
the new being.â
There was silence for a moment. Clotilde had listened to him with
profound attention, wishing to understand. And he remained absorbed in
thought, his eyes still fixed on the tree, in the desire to judge his
work impartially. He then continued in a low tone, as if speaking to
himself:
âYes, that is as scientific as possible. I have placed there only the
members of the family, and I had to give an equal part to the partners,
to the fathers and mothers come from outside, whose blood has mingled
with ours, and therefore modified it. I had indeed made a mathematically
exact tree, the father and the mother bequeathing themselves, by halves,
to the child, from generation to generation, so that in Charles, for
example, Aunt Dideâs part would have been only a twelfth--which would
be absurd, since the physical resemblance is there complete. I have
therefore thought it sufficient to indicate the elements come from
elsewhere, taking into account marriages and the new factor which each
introduced. Ah! these sciences that are yet in their infancy, in which
hypothesis speaks stammeringly, and imagination rules, these are the
domain of the poet as much as of the scientist. Poets go as pioneers
in the advance guard, and they often discover new countries, suggesting
solutions. There is there a borderland which belongs to them, between
the conquered, the definitive truth, and the unknown, whence the
truth of to-morrow will be torn. What an immense fresco there is to be
painted, what a stupendous human tragedy, what a comedy there is to
be written with heredity, which is the very genesis of families, of
societies, and of the world!â
His eyes fixed on vacancy, he remained for a time lost in thought. Then,
with an abrupt movement, he came back to the envelopes and, pushing the
tree aside, said:
âWe will take it up again presently; for, in order that you may
understand now, it is necessary that events should pass in review before
you, and that you should see in action all these actors ticketed here,
each one summed up in a brief note. I will call for the envelopes, you
will hand them to me one by one, and I will show you the papers in each,
and tell you their contents, before putting it away again up there on
the shelf. I will not follow the alphabetical order, but the order of
events themselves. I have long wished to make this classification. Come,
look for the names on the envelopes; Aunt Dide first.â
At this moment the edge of the storm which lighted up the sky caught La
Souleiade slantingly, and burst over the house in a deluge of rain.
But they did not even close the window. They heard neither the peals of
thunder nor the ceaseless beating of the rain upon the roof. She handed
him the envelope bearing the name of Aunt Dide in large characters; and
he took from it papers of all sorts, notes taken by him long ago, which
he proceeded to read.
âHand me Pierre Rougon. Hand me Ursule Macquart. Hand me Antoine
Macquart.â
Silently she obeyed him, her heart oppressed by a dreadful anguish at
all she was hearing. And the envelopes were passed on, displayed their
contents, and were piled up again in the press.
First was the foundress of the family, Adelaide Fouque, the tall, crazy
girl, the first nervous lesion giving rise to the legitimate branch,
Pierre Rougon, and to the two illegitimate branches, Ursule and Antoine
Macquart, all that _bourgeois_ and sanguinary tragedy, with the _coup
dâetat_ of December, 1854, for a background, the Rougons, Pierre and
Felicite, preserving order at Plassans, bespattering with the blood of
Silvere their rising fortunes, while Adelaide, grown old, the miserable
Aunt Dide, was shut up in the Tulettes, like a specter of expiation and
of waiting.
Then like a pack of hounds, the appetites were let loose. The supreme
appetite of power in Eugene Rougon, the great man, the disdainful genius
of the family, free from base interests, loving power for its own sake,
conquering Paris in old boots with the adventurers of the coming
Empire, rising from the legislative body to the senate, passing from the
presidency of the council of state to the portfolio of minister; made by
his party, a hungry crowd of followers, who at the same time supported
and devoured him; conquered for an instant by a woman, the beautiful
Clorinde, with whom he had been imbecile enough to fall in love, but
having so strong a will, and burning with so vehement a desire to rule,
that he won back power by giving the lie to his whole life, marching to
his triumphal sovereignty of vice emperor.
With Aristide Saccard, appetite ran to low pleasures, the whole hot
quarry of money, luxury, women--a devouring hunger which left him
homeless, at the time when millions were changing hands, when the
whirlwind of wild speculation was blowing through the city, tearing
down everywhere to construct anew, when princely fortunes were made,
squandered, and remade in six months; a greed of gold whose ever
increasing fury carried him away, causing him, almost before the body
of his wife Angele was cold in death, to sell his name, in order to have
the first indispensable thousand francs, by marrying Renee. And it
was Saccard, too, who, a few years later, put in motion the immense
money-press of the Banque Universelle. Saccard, the never vanquished;
Saccard, grown more powerful, risen to be the clever and daring grand
financier, comprehending the fierce and civilizing role that money
plays, fighting, winning, and losing battles on the Bourse, like
Napoleon at Austerlitz and Waterloo; engulfing in disaster a world of
miserable people; sending forth into the unknown realms of crime his
natural son Victor, who disappeared, fleeing through the dark night,
while he himself, under the impassable protection of unjust nature, was
loved by the adorable Mme. Caroline, no doubt in recompense of all the
evil he had done.
Here a tall, spotless lily had bloomed in this compost, Sidonie Rougon,
the sycophant of her brother, the go-between in a hundred suspicious
affairs, giving birth to the pure and divine Angelique, the little
embroiderer with fairylike fingers who worked into the gold of
the chasubles the dream of her Prince Charming, so happy among her
companions the saints, so little made for the hard realities of
life, that she obtained the grace of dying of love, on the day of her
marriage, at the first kiss of Felicien de Hautecoeur, in the triumphant
peal of bells ringing for her splendid nuptials.
The union of the two branches, the legitimate and the illegitimate,
took place then, Marthe Rougon espousing her cousin Francois Mouret,
a peaceful household slowly disunited, ending in the direst
catastrophes--a sad and gentle woman taken, made use of, and crushed in
the vast machine of war erected for the conquest of a city; her three
children torn from her, she herself leaving her heart in the rude grasp
of the Abbe Faujas. And the Rougons saved Plassans a second time, while
she was dying in the glare of the conflagration in which her husband was
being consumed, mad with long pent-up rage and the desire for revenge.
Of the three children, Octave Mouret was the audacious conqueror, the
clear intellect, resolved to demand from the women the sovereignty of
Paris, fallen at his _debut_ into the midst of a corrupt _bourgeois_
society, acquiring there a terrible sentimental education, passing from
the capricious refusal of one woman to the unresisting abandonment
of another, remaining, fortunately, active, laborious, and combative,
gradually emerging, and improved even, from the low plotting, the
ceaseless ferment of a rotten society that could be heard already
cracking to its foundations. And Octave Mouret, victorious,
revolutionized commerce; swallowed up the cautious little shops that
carried on business in the old-fashioned way; established in the midst
of feverish Paris the colossal palace of temptation, blazing with
lights, overflowing with velvets, silks, and laces; won fortunes
exploiting woman; lived in smiling scorn of woman until the day when
a little girl, the avenger of her sex, the innocent and wise Denise,
vanquished him and held him captive at her feet, groaning with anguish,
until she did him the favor, she who was so poor, to marry him in the
midst of the apotheosis of his Louvre, under the golden shower of his
receipts.
There remained the two other children, Serge Mouret and Desiree Mouret,
the latter innocent and healthy, like some happy young animal; the
former refined and mystical, who was thrown into the priesthood by a
nervous malady hereditary in his family, and who lived again the story
of Adam, in the Eden of Le Paradou. He was born again to love Albine,
and to lose her, in the bosom of sublime nature, their accomplice; to be
recovered, afterward by the Church, to war eternally with life, striving
to kill his manhood, throwing on the body of the dead Albine the handful
of earth, as officiating priest, at the very time when Desiree, the
sister and friend of animals, was rejoicing in the midst of the swarming
life of her poultry yard.
Further on there opened a calm glimpse of gentle and tragic life, Helene
Mouret living peacefully with her little girl, Jeanne, on the heights of
Passy, overlooking Paris, the bottomless, boundless human sea, in face
of which was unrolled this page of love: the sudden passion of Helene
for a stranger, a physician, brought one night by chance to the bedside
of her daughter; the morbid jealousy of Jeanne--the instinctive jealousy
of a loving girl--disputing her mother with love, her mother already
so wasted by her unhappy passion that the daughter died because of
her fault; terrible price of one hour of desire in the entire cold and
discreet life of a woman, poor dead child, lying alone in the silent
cemetery, in face of eternal Paris.
With Lisa Macquart began the illegitimate branch; appearing fresh and
strong in her, as she displayed her portly, prosperous figure, sitting
at the door of her pork shop in a light colored apron, watching the
central market, where the hunger of a people muttered, the age-long
battle of the Fat and the Lean, the lean Florent, her brother-in-law,
execrated, and set upon by the fat fishwomen and the fat shopwomen, and
whom even the fat pork-seller herself, honest, but unforgiving, caused
to be arrested as a republican who had broken his ban, convinced that
she was laboring for the good digestion of all honest people.
From this mother sprang the sanest, the most human of girls, Pauline
Quenu, the well-balanced, the reasonable, the virgin; who, knowing
everything, accepted the joy of living in so ardent a love for others
that, in spite of the revolt of her youthful heart, she resigned to her
friend her cousin and betrothed, Lazare, and afterward saved the child
of the disunited household, becoming its true mother; always triumphant,
always gay, notwithstanding her sacrificed and ruined life, in her
monotonous solitude, facing the great sea, in the midst of a little
world of sufferers groaning with pain, but who did not wish to die.
Then came Gervaise Macquart with her four children: bandy-legged,
pretty, and industrious Gervaise, whom her lover Lantier turned into
the street in the faubourg, where she met the zinc worker Coupeau, the
skilful, steady workman whom she married, and with whom she lived
so happily at first, having three women working in her laundry,
but afterward sinking with her husband, as was inevitable, to the
degradation of her surroundings. He, gradually conquered by alcohol,
brought by it to madness and death; she herself perverted, become a
slattern, her moral ruin completed by the return of Lantier, living
in the tranquil ignominy of a household of three, thenceforward the
wretched victim of want, her accomplice, to which she at last succumbed,
dying one night of starvation.
Her eldest son, Claude, had the unhappy genius of a great painter struck
with madness, the impotent madness of feeling within him the masterpiece
to which his fingers refused to give shape; a giant wrestler always
defeated, a crucified martyr to his work, adoring woman, sacrificing his
wife Christine, so loving and for a time so beloved, to the increate,
divine woman of his visions, but whom his pencil was unable to delineate
in her nude perfection, possessed by a devouring passion for producing,
an insatiable longing to create, a longing so torturing when it could
not be satisfied, that he ended it by hanging himself.
Jacques brought crime, the hereditary taint being transmuted in him into
an instinctive appetite for blood, the young and fresh blood from the
gashed throat of a woman, the first comer, the passer-by in the street:
a horrible malady against which he struggled, but which took possession
of him again in the course of his _amour_ with the submissive and
sensual Severine, whom a tragic story of assassination caused to live in
constant terror, and whom he stabbed one evening in an excess of frenzy,
maddened by the sight of her white throat. Then this savage human beast
rushed among the trains filing past swiftly, and mounted the snorting
engine of which he was the engineer, the beloved engine which was one
day to crush him to atoms, and then, left without a guide, to rush
furiously off into space braving unknown disasters.
Etienne, in his turn driven out, arrived in the black country on a
freezing night in March, descended into the voracious pit, fell in love
with the melancholy Catherine, of whom a ruffian robbed him; lived with
the miners their gloomy life of misery and base promiscuousness, until
one day when hunger, prompting rebellion, sent across the barren plain a
howling mob of wretches who demanded bread, tearing down and burning
as they went, under the menace of the guns of the band that went off of
themselves, a terrible convulsion announcing the end of the world. The
avenging blood of the Maheus was to rise up later; of Alzire dead of
starvation, Maheu killed by a bullet, Zacharie killed by an explosion of
fire-damp, Catherine under the ground. La Maheude alone survived to weep
her dead, descending again into the mine to earn her thirty sons, while
Etienne, the beaten chief of the band, haunted by the dread of future
demands, went away on a warm April morning, listening to the secret
growth of the new world whose germination was soon to dazzle the earth.
Nana then became the avenger; the girl born among the social filth of
the faubourgs; the golden fly sprung from the rottenness below, that
was tolerated and concealed, carrying in the fluttering of its wings
the ferment of destruction, rising and contaminating the aristocracy,
poisoning men only by alighting upon them, in the palaces through whose
windows it entered; the unconscious instrument of ruin and death--fierce
flame of Vandeuvres, the melancholy fate of Foucarmont, lost in the
Chinese waters, the disaster of Steiner, reduced to live as an honest
man, the imbecility of La Faloise and the tragic ruin of the Muffats,
and the white corpse of Georges, watched by Philippe, come out of prison
the day before, when the air of the epoch was so contaminated that she
herself was infected, and died of malignant smallpox, caught at the
death-bed of her son Louiset, while Paris passed beneath her windows,
intoxicated, possessed by the frenzy of war, rushing to general ruin.
Lastly comes Jean Macquart, the workman and soldier become again a
peasant, fighting with the hard earth, which exacts that every grain of
corn shall be purchased with a drop of sweat, fighting, above all, with
the country people, whom covetousness and the long and difficult battle
with the soil cause to burn with the desire, incessantly stimulated, of
possession. Witness the Fouans, grown old, parting with their fields as
if they were parting with their flesh; the Buteaus in their eager greed
committing parricide, to hasten the inheritance of a field of lucern;
the stubborn Francoise dying from the stroke of a scythe, without
speaking, rather than that a sod should go out of the family--all this
drama of simple natures governed by instinct, scarcely emerged from
primitive barbarism--all this human filth on the great earth, which
alone remains immortal, the mother from whom they issue and to whom they
return again, she whom they love even to crime, who continually remakes
life, for its unknown end, even with the misery and the abomination of
the beings she nourishes. And it was Jean, too, who, become a widower
and having enlisted again at the first rumor of war, brought the
inexhaustible reserve, the stock of eternal rejuvenation which the earth
keeps; Jean, the humblest, the staunchest soldier at the final downfall,
swept along in the terrible and fatal storm which, from the frontier
to Sedan, in sweeping away the Empire, threatened to sweep away the
country; always wise, circumspect, firm in his hope, loving with
fraternal affection his comrade Maurice, the demented child of the
people, the holocaust doomed to expiation, weeping tears of blood when
inexorable destiny chose himself to hew off this rotten limb, and after
all had ended--the continual defeats, the frightful civil war, the lost
provinces, the thousands of millions of francs to pay--taking up the
march again, notwithstanding, returning to the land which awaited him,
to the great and difficult task of making a new France.
Pascal paused; Clotilde had handed him all the packages, one by one,
and he had gone over them all, laid bare the contents of all, classified
them anew, and placed them again on the top shelf of the press. He was
out of breath, exhausted by his swift course through all this humanity,
while, without voice, without movement, the young girl, stunned by
this overflowing torrent of life, waited still, incapable of thought
or judgment. The rain still beat furiously upon the dark fields. The
lightning had just struck a tree in the neighborhood, that had split
with a terrible crash. The candles flared up in the wind that came in
from the open window.
âAh!â he resumed, pointing to the papers again, âthere is a world in
itself, a society, a civilization, the whole of life is there, with its
manifestations, good and bad, in the heat and labor of the forge which
shapes everything. Yes, our family of itself would suffice as an example
to science, which will perhaps one day establish with mathematical
exactness the laws governing the diseases of the blood and nerves
that show themselves in a race, after a first organic lesion, and
that determine, according to environment, the sentiments, desires, and
passions of each individual of that race, all the human, natural and
instinctive manifestations which take the names of virtues and vices.
And it is also a historical document, it relates the story of the Second
Empire, from the _coup dâetat_ to Sedan; for our family spring from
the people, they spread themselves through the whole of contemporary
society, invaded every place, impelled by their unbridled appetites, by
that impulse, essentially modern, that eager desire that urges the lower
classes to enjoyment, in their ascent through the social strata. We
started, as I have said, from Plassans, and here we are now arrived once
more at Plassans.â
He paused again, and then resumed in a low, dreamy voice:
âWhat an appalling mass stirred up! how many passions, how many joys,
how many sufferings crammed into this colossal heap of facts! There is
pure history: the Empire founded in blood, at first pleasure-loving
and despotic, conquering rebellious cities, then gliding to a slow
disintegration, dissolving in blood--in such a sea of blood that the
entire nation came near being swamped in it. There are social studies:
wholesale and retail trade, prostitution, crime, land, money, the
_bourgeoisie_, the people--that people who rot in the sewer of
the faubourgs, who rebel in the great industrial centers, all that
ever-increasing growth of mighty socialism, big with the new century.
There are simple human studies: domestic pages, love stories, the
struggle of minds and hearts against unjust nature, the destruction
of those who cry out under their too difficult task, the cry of virtue
immolating itself, victorious over pain, There are fancies, flights
of the imagination beyond the real: vast gardens always in bloom,
cathedrals with slender, exquisitely wrought spires, marvelous tales
come down from paradise, ideal affections remounting to heaven in a
kiss. There is everything: the good and the bad, the vulgar and the
sublime, flowers, mud, blood, laughter, the torrent of life itself,
bearing humanity endlessly on!â
He took up again the genealogical tree which had remained neglected
on the table, spread it out and began to go over it once more with his
finger, enumerating now the members of the family who were still living:
Eugene Rougon, a fallen majesty, who remained in the Chamber, the
witness, the impassible defender of the old world swept away at the
downfall of the Empire. Aristide Saccard, who, after having changed his
principles, had fallen upon his feet a republican, the editor of a great
journal, on the way to make new millions, while his natural son Victor,
who had never reappeared, was living still in the shade, since he was
not in the galleys, cast forth by the world into the future, into the
unknown, like a human beast foaming with the hereditary virus, who must
communicate his malady with every bite he gives. Sidonie Rougon, who
had for a time disappeared, weary of disreputable affairs, had lately
retired to a sort of religious house, where she was living in monastic
austerity, the treasurer of the Marriage Fund, for aiding in the
marriage of girls who were mothers. Octave Mouret, proprietor of the
great establishment _Au Bonheur des Dames_, whose colossal fortune still
continued increasing, had had, toward the end of the winter, a third
child by his wife Denise Baudu, whom he adored, although his mind was
beginning to be deranged again. The Abbe Mouret, cure at St. Eutrope, in
the heart of a marshy gorge, lived there in great retirement, and very
modestly, with his sister Desiree, refusing all advancement from his
bishop, and waiting for death like a holy man, rejecting all medicines,
although he was already suffering from consumption in its first stage.
Helene Mouret was living very happily in seclusion with her second
husband, M. Rambaud, on the little estate which they owned near
Marseilles, on the seashore; she had had no child by her second husband.
Pauline Quenu was still at Bonneville at the other extremity of France,
in face of the vast ocean, alone with little Paul, since the death
of Uncle Chanteau, having resolved never to marry, in order to devote
herself entirely to the son of her cousin Lazare, who had become a
widower and had gone to America to make a fortune. Etienne Lantier,
returning to Paris after the strike at Montsou, had compromised himself
later in the insurrection of the Commune, whose principles he had
defended with ardor; he had been condemned to death, but his sentence
being commuted was transported and was now at Noumea. It was even said
that he had married immediately on his arrival there, and that he had
had a child, the sex of which, however, was not known with certainty.
Finally, Jean Macquart, who had received his discharge after the Bloody
Week, had settled at Valqueyras, near Plassans, where he had had the
good fortune to marry a healthy girl, Melanie Vial, the daughter of a
well-to-do peasant, whose lands he farmed, and his wife had borne him a
son in May.
âYes, it is true,â he resumed, in a low voice; âraces degenerate. There
is here a veritable exhaustion, rapid deterioration, as if our family,
in their fury of enjoyment, in the gluttonous satisfaction of their
appetites, had consumed themselves too quickly. Louiset, dead in
infancy; Jacques Louis, a half imbecile, carried off by a nervous
disease; Victor returned to the savage state, wandering about in who
knows what dark places; our poor Charles, so beautiful and so frail;
these are the latest branches of the tree, the last pale offshoots into
which the puissant sap of the larger branches seems to have been unable
to mount. The worm was in the trunk, it has ascended into the fruit, and
is devouring it. But one must never despair; families are a continual
growth. They go back beyond the common ancestor, into the unfathomable
strata of the races that have lived, to the first being; and they
will put forth new shoots without end, they will spread and ramify to
infinity, through future ages. Look at our tree; it counts only five
generations. It has not so much importance as a blade of grass, even,
in the human forest, vast and dark, of which the peoples are the great
secular oaks. Think only of the immense roots which spread through the
soil; think of the continual putting forth of new leaves above, which
mingle with other leaves of the ever-rolling sea of treetops, at the
fructifying, eternal breath of life. Well, hope lies there, in the daily
reconstruction of the race by the new blood which comes from without.
Each marriage brings other elements, good or bad, of which the effect
is, however, to prevent certain and progressive regeneration.
Breaches are repaired, faults effaced, an equilibrium is inevitably
re-established at the end of a few generations, and it is the average
man that always results; vague humanity, obstinately pursuing its
mysterious labor, marching toward its unknown end.â
He paused, and heaved a deep sigh.
âAh! our family, what is it going to become; in what being will it
finally end?â
He continued, not now taking into account the survivors whom he had just
named; having classified these, he knew what they were capable of, but
he was full of keen curiosity regarding the children who were
still infants. He had written to a _confrere_ in Noumea for precise
information regarding the wife whom Etienne had lately married there,
and the child which she had had, but he had heard nothing, and he feared
greatly that on that side the tree would remain incomplete. He was more
fully furnished with documents regarding the two children of Octave
Mouret, with whom he continued to correspond; the little girl was
growing up puny and delicate, while the little boy, who strongly
resembled his mother, had developed superbly, and was perfectly healthy.
His strongest hope, besides these, was in Jeanâs children, the eldest of
whom was a magnificent boy, full of the youthful vigor of the races that
go back to the soil to regenerate themselves. Pascal occasionally went
to Valqueyras, and he returned happy from that fertile spot, where the
father, quiet and rational, was always at his plow, the mother cheerful
and simple, with her vigorous frame, capable of bearing a world. Who
knew what sound branch was to spring from that side? Perhaps the wise
and puissant of the future were to germinate there. The worst of it, for
the beauty of his tree, was that all these little boys and girls were
still so young that he could not classify them. And his voice grew
tender as he spoke of this hope of the future, these fair-haired
children, in the unavowed regret for his celibacy.
Still contemplating the tree spread out before him, he cried:
âAnd yet it is complete, it is decisive. Look! I repeat to you that all
hereditary cases are to be found there. To establish my theory, I
had only to base it on the collection of these facts. And indeed, the
marvelous thing is that there you can put your finger on the cause
why creatures born of the same stock can appear radically different,
although they are only logical modifications of common ancestors. The
trunk explains the branches, and these explain the leaves. In your
father Saccard and your Uncle Eugene Rougon, so different in their
temperaments and their lives, it is the same impulse which made the
inordinate appetites of the one and the towering ambition of the other.
Angelique, that pure lily, is born from the disreputable Sidonie, in the
rapture which makes mystics or lovers, according to the environment. The
three children of the Mourets are born of the same breath which makes of
the clever Octave the dry goods merchant, a millionaire; of the devout
Serge, a poor country priest; of the imbecile Desiree, a beautiful and
happy girl. But the example is still more striking in the children of
Gervaise; the neurosis passes down, and Nana sells herself; Etienne is
a rebel; Jacques, a murderer; Claude, a genius; while Pauline, their
cousin german, near by, is victorious virtue--virtue which struggles
and immolates itself. It is heredity, life itself which makes imbeciles,
madmen, criminals and great men. Cells abort, others take their place,
and we have a scoundrel or a madman instead of a man of genius, or
simply an honest man. And humanity rolls on, bearing everything on its
tide.â
Then in a new shifting of his thought, growing still more animated, he
continued:
âAnd animals--the beast that suffers and that loves, which is the rough
sketch, as it were, of man--all the animals our brothers, that live our
life, yes, I would have put them in the ark, I would give them a place
among our family, show them continually mingling with us, completing our
existence. I have known cats whose presence was the mysterious charm of
the household; dogs that were adored, whose death was mourned, and left
in the heart an inconsolable grief. I have known goats, cows, and asses
of very great importance, and whose personality played such a part that
their history ought to be written. And there is our Bonhomme, our poor
old horse, that has served us for a quarter of a century. Do you not
think that he has mingled his life with ours, and that henceforth he
is one of the family? We have modified him, as he has influenced us a
little; we shall end by being made in the same image, and this is so
true that now, when I see him, half blind, with wandering gaze, his legs
stiff with rheumatism, I kiss him on both cheeks as if he were a poor
old relation who had fallen to my charge. Ah, animals, all creeping and
crawling things, all creatures that lament, below man, how large a place
in our sympathies it would be necessary to give them in a history of
life!â
This was a last cry in which Pascal gave utterance to his passionate
tenderness for all created beings. He had gradually become more and more
excited, and had so come to make this confession of his faith in the
continuous and victorious work of animated nature. And Clotilde, who
thus far had not spoken, pale from the catastrophe in which her plans
had ended, at last opened her lips to ask:
âWell, master, and what am I here?â
She placed one of her slender fingers on the leaf of the tree on
which she saw her name written. He had always passed this leaf by. She
insisted.
âYes, I; what am I? Why have you not read me my envelope?â
For a moment he remained silent, as if surprised at the question.
âWhy? For no reason. It is true, I have nothing to conceal from you.
You see what is written here? âClotilde, born in 1847. Selection of the
mother. Reversional heredity, with moral and physical predominance
of the maternal grandfather.â Nothing can be clearer. Your mother has
predominated in you; you have her fine intelligence, and you have
also something of her coquetry, at times of her indolence and of her
submissiveness. Yes, you are very feminine, like her. Without your being
aware of it, I would say that you love to be loved. Besides, your mother
was a great novel reader, an imaginative being who loved to spend whole
days dreaming over a book; she doted on nursery tales, had her fortune
told by cards, consulted clairvoyants; and I have always thought that
your concern about spiritual matters, your anxiety about the unknown,
came from that source. But what completed your character by giving you a
dual nature, was the influence of your grandfather, Commandant Sicardot.
I knew him; he was not a genius, but he had at least a great deal
of uprightness and energy. Frankly, if it were not for him, I do not
believe that you would be worth much, for the other influences
are hardly good. He has given you the best part of your nature,
combativeness, pride, and frankness.â
She had listened to him with attention. She nodded slightly, to signify
that it was indeed so, that she was not offended, although her lips
trembled visibly at these new details regarding her people and her
mother.
âWell,â she resumed, âand you, master?â
This time he did not hesitate.
âOh, I!â he cried, âwhat is the use of speaking of me? I do not belong
to the family. You see what is written here. âPascal, born in 1813.
Individual variation. Combination in which the physical and moral
characters of the parents are blended, without any of their traits
seeming to appear in the new being.â My mother has told me often enough
that I did not belong to it, that in truth she did not know where I
could have come from.â
Those words came from him like a cry of relief, of involuntary joy.
âAnd the people make no mistake in the matter. Have you ever heard
me called Pascal Rougon in the town? No; people always say simply Dr.
Pascal. It is because I stand apart. And it may not be very affectionate
to feel so, but I am delighted at it, for there are in truth
inheritances too heavy to bear. It is of no use that I love them all.
My heart beats none the less joyously when I feel myself another being,
different from them, without any community with them. Not to be of them,
my God! not to be of them! It is a breath of pure air; it is what
gives me the courage to have them all here, to put them, in all their
nakedness, in their envelopes, and still to find the courage to live!â
He stopped, and there was silence for a time. The rain had ceased, the
storm was passing away, the thunderclaps sounded more and more distant,
while from the refreshed fields, still dark, there came in through the
open window a delicious odor of moist earth. In the calm air the candles
were burning out with a tall, tranquil flame.
âAh!â said Clotilde simply, with a gesture of discouragement, âwhat are
we to become finally?â
She had declared it to herself one night, in the threshing yard; life
was horrible, how could one live peaceful and happy? It was a terrible
light that science threw on the world. Analysis searched every wound
of humanity, in order to expose its horror. And now he had spoken still
more bluntly; he had increased the disgust which she had for persons and
things, pitilessly dissecting her family. The muddy torrent had rolled
on before her for nearly three hours, and she had heard the most
dreadful revelations, the harsh and terrible truth about her people, her
people who were so dear to her, whom it was her duty to love; her father
grown powerful through pecuniary crimes; her brother dissolute; her
grandmother unscrupulous, covered with the blood of the just; the
others almost all tainted, drunkards, ruffians, murderers, the monstrous
blossoming of the human tree.
The blow had been so rude that she could not yet recover from it,
stunned as she was by the revelation of her whole family history,
made to her in this way at a stroke. And yet the lesson was rendered
innocuous, so to say, by something great and good, a breath of profound
humanity which had borne her through it. Nothing bad had come to her
from it. She felt herself beaten by a sharp sea wind, the storm wind
which strengthens and expands the lungs. He had revealed everything,
speaking freely even of his mother, without judging her, continuing to
preserve toward her his deferential attitude, as a scientist who does
not judge events. To tell everything in order to know everything, in
order to remedy everything, was not this the cry which he had uttered on
that beautiful summer night?
And by the very excess of what he had just revealed to her, she remained
shaken, blinded by this too strong light, but understanding him at last,
and confessing to herself that he was attempting in this an immense
work. In spite of everything, it was a cry of health, of hope in the
future. He spoke as a benefactor who, since heredity made the world,
wished to fix its laws, in order to control it, and to make a new and
happy world. Was there then only mud in this overflowing stream, whose
sluices he had opened? How much gold had passed, mingled with the grass
and the flowers on its borders? Hundreds of beings were still flying
swiftly before her, and she was haunted by good and charming faces,
delicate girlish profiles, by the serene beauty of women. All passion
bled there, hearts swelled with every tender rapture. They were
numerous, the Jeannes, the Angeliques, the Paulines, the Marthes, the
Gervaises, the Helenes. They and others, even those who were least good,
even terrible men, the worst of the band, showed a brotherhood with
humanity.
And it was precisely this breath which she had felt pass, this broad
current of sympathy, that he had introduced naturally into his exact
scientific lesson. He did not seem to be moved; he preserved the
impersonal and correct attitude of the demonstrator, but within him
what tender suffering, what a fever of devotion, what a giving up of
his whole being to the happiness of others? His entire work, constructed
with such mathematical precision, was steeped in this fraternal
suffering, even in its most cruel ironies. Had he not just spoken of
the animals, like an elder brother of the wretched living beings that
suffer? Suffering exasperated him; his wrath was because of his
too lofty dream, and he had become harsh only in his hatred of the
factitious and the transitory; dreaming of working, not for the polite
society of a time, but for all humanity in the gravest hours of its
history. Perhaps, even, it was this revolt against the vulgarity of the
time which had made him throw himself, in bold defiance, into theories
and their application. And the work remained human, overflowing as it
was with an infinite pity for beings and things.
Besides, was it not life? There is no absolute evil. Most often a virtue
presents itself side by side with a defect. No man is bad to every one,
each man makes the happiness of some one; so that, when one does not
view things from a single standpoint only, one recognizes in the end
the utility of every human being. Those who believe in God should say
to themselves that if their God does not strike the wicked dead, it is
because he sees his work in its totality, and that he cannot descend
to the individual. Labor ends to begin anew; the living, as a whole,
continue, in spite of everything, admirable in their courage and their
industry; and love of life prevails over all.
This giant labor of men, this obstinacy in living, is their excuse,
is redemption. And then, from a great height the eye saw only this
continual struggle, and a great deal of good, in spite of everything,
even though there might be a great deal of evil. One shared the general
indulgence, one pardoned, one had only an infinite pity and an ardent
charity. The haven was surely there, waiting those who have lost faith
in dogmas, who wish to understand the meaning of their lives, in the
midst of the apparent iniquity of the world. One must live for the
effort of living, for the stone to be carried to the distant and unknown
work, and the only possible peace in the world is in the joy of making
this effort.
Another hour passed; the entire night had flown by in this terrible
lesson of life, without either Pascal or Clotilde being conscious of
where they were, or of the flight of time. And he, overworked for some
time past, and worn out by the life of suspicion and sadness which he
had been leading, started nervously, as if he had suddenly awakened.
âCome, you know all; do you feel your heart strong, tempered by the
truth, full of pardon and of hope? Are you with me?â
But, still stunned by the frightful moral shock which she had received,
she too, started, bewildered. Her old beliefs had been so completely
overthrown, so many new ideas were awakening within her, that she did
not dare to question herself, in order to find an answer. She felt
herself seized and carried away by the omnipotence of truth. She endured
it without being convinced.
âMaster,â she stammered, âmaster--â
And they remained for a moment face to face, looking at each other. Day
was breaking, a dawn of exquisite purity, far off in the vast, clear
sky, washed by the storm. Not a cloud now stained the pale azure tinged
with rose color. All the cheerful sounds of awakening life in the
rain-drenched fields came in through the window, while the candles,
burned down to the socket, paled in the growing light.
âAnswer; are you with me, altogether with me?â
For a moment he thought she was going to throw herself on his neck and
burst into tears. A sudden impulse seemed to impel her. But they saw
each other in their semi-nudity. She, who had not noticed it before, was
now conscious that she was only half dressed, that her arms were bare,
her shoulders bare, covered only by the scattered locks of her unbound
hair, and on her right shoulder, near the armpit, on lowering her eyes,
she perceived again the few drops of blood of the bruise which he had
given her, when he had grasped her roughly, in struggling to master her.
Then an extraordinary confusion took possession of her, a certainty that
she was going to be vanquished, as if by this grasp he had become her
master, and forever. This sensation was prolonged; she was seized and
drawn on, without the consent of her will, by an irresistible impulse to
submit.
Abruptly Clotilde straightened herself, struggling with herself, wishing
to reflect and to recover herself. She pressed her bare arms against
her naked throat. All the blood in her body rushed to her skin in a rosy
blush of shame. Then, in her divine and slender grace, she turned to
flee.
âMaster, master, let me go--I will see--â
With the swiftness of alarmed maidenhood, she took refuge in her
chamber, as she had done once before. He heard her lock the door
hastily, with a double turn of the key. He remained alone, and he asked
himself suddenly, seized by infinite discouragement and sadness, if he
had done right in speaking, if the truth would germinate in this dear
and adored creature, and bear one day a harvest of happiness.
VI.
The days wore on. October began with magnificent weather--a sultry
autumn in which the fervid heat of summer was prolonged, with a
cloudless sky. Then the weather changed, fierce winds began to blow, and
a last storm channeled gullies in the hillsides. And to the melancholy
household at La Souleiade the approach of winter seemed to have brought
an infinite sadness.
It was a new hell. There were no more violent quarrels between Pascal
and Clotilde. The doors were no longer slammed. Voices raised in dispute
no longer obliged Martine to go continually upstairs to listen outside
the door. They scarcely spoke to each other now; and not a single word
had been exchanged between them regarding the midnight scene, although
weeks had passed since it had taken place. He, through an inexplicable
scruple, a strange delicacy of which he was not himself conscious, did
not wish to renew the conversation, and to demand the answer which he
expected--a promise of faith in him and of submission. She, after the
great moral shock which had completely transformed her, still reflected,
hesitated, struggled, fighting against herself, putting off her decision
in order not to surrender, in her instinctive rebelliousness. And the
misunderstanding continued, in the midst of the mournful silence of the
miserable house, where there was no longer any happiness.
During all this time Pascal suffered terribly, without making any
complaint. He had sunk into a dull distrust, imagining that he was still
being watched, and that if they seemed to leave him at peace it was
only in order to concoct in secret the darkest plots. His uneasiness
increased, even, and he expected every day some catastrophe to
happen--the earth suddenly to open and swallow up his papers, La
Souleiade itself to be razed to the ground, carried away bodily,
scattered to the winds.
The persecution against his thought, against his moral and intellectual
life, in thus hiding itself, and so rendering him helpless to defend
himself, became so intolerable to him that he went to bed every night in
a fever. He would often start and turn round suddenly, thinking he
was going to surprise the enemy behind him engaged in some piece of
treachery, to find nothing there but the shadow of his own fears. At
other times, seized by some suspicion, he would remain on the watch
for hours together, hidden, behind his blinds, or lying in wait in
a passage; but not a soul stirred, he heard nothing but the violent
beating of his heart. His fears kept him in a state of constant
agitation; he never went to bed at night without visiting every room;
he no longer slept, or, if he did, he would waken with a start at the
slightest noise, ready to defend himself.
And what still further aggravated Pascalâs sufferings was the constant,
the ever more bitter thought that the wound was inflicted upon him by
the only creature he loved in the world, the adored Clotilde, whom for
twenty years he had seen grow in beauty and in grace, whose life had
hitherto bloomed like a beautiful flower, perfuming his. She, great God!
for whom his heart was full of affection, whom he had never analyzed,
she, who had become his joy, his courage, his hope, in whose young life
he lived over again. When she passed by, with her delicate neck, so
round, so fresh, he was invigorated, bathed in health and joy, as at the
coming of spring.
His whole life, besides, explained this invasion, this subjugation of
his being by the young girl who had entered into his heart while she
was still a little child, and who, as she grew up, had gradually taken
possession of the whole place. Since he had settled at Plassans, he had
led a blest existence, wrapped up in his books, far from women. The only
passion he was ever known to have had, was his love for the lady who had
died, whose finger tips he had never kissed. He had not lived; he had
within him a reserve of youthfulness, of vigor, whose surging flood now
clamored rebelliously at the menace of approaching age. He would have
become attached to an animal, a stray dog that he had chanced to pick up
in the street, and that had licked his hand. And it was this child whom
he loved, all at once become an adorable woman, who now distracted him,
who tortured him by her hostility.
Pascal, so gay, so kind, now became insupportably gloomy and harsh. He
grew angry at the slightest word; he would push aside the astonished
Martine, who would look up at him with the submissive eyes of a beaten
animal. From morning till night he went about the gloomy house, carrying
his misery about with him, with so forbidding a countenance that no one
ventured to speak to him.
He never took Clotilde with him now on his visits, but went alone. And
thus it was that he returned home one afternoon, his mind distracted
because of an accident which had happened; having on his conscience, as
a physician, the death of a man.
He had gone to give a hypodermic injection to Lafouasse, the tavern
keeper, whose ataxia had within a short time made such rapid progress
that he regarded him as doomed. But, notwithstanding, Pascal still
fought obstinately against the disease, continuing the treatment, and as
ill luck would have it, on this day the little syringe had caught up at
the bottom of the vial an impure particle, which had escaped the filter.
Immediately a drop of blood appeared; to complete his misfortune, he had
punctured a vein. He was at once alarmed, seeing the tavern keeper turn
pale and gasp for breath, while large drops of cold perspiration broke
out upon his face. Then he understood; death came as if by a stroke of
lightning, the lips turning blue, the face black. It was an embolism;
he had nothing to blame but the insufficiency of his preparations, his
still rude method. No doubt Lafouasse had been doomed. He could
not, perhaps, have lived six months longer, and that in the midst of
atrocious sufferings, but the brutal fact of this terrible death was
none the less there, and what despairing regret, what rage against
impotent and murderous science, and what a shock to his faith! He
returned home, livid, and did not make his appearance again until the
following day, after having remained sixteen hours shut up in his room,
lying in a semi-stupor on the bed, across which he had thrown himself,
dressed as he was.
On the afternoon of this day Clotilde, who was sitting beside him in the
study, sewing, ventured to break the oppressive silence. She looked up,
and saw him turning over the leaves of a book wearily, searching for
some information which he was unable to find.
âMaster, are you ill? Why do you not tell me, if you are. I would take
care of you.â
He kept his eyes bent upon the book, and muttered:
âWhat does it matter to you whether I am ill or not? I need no one to
take care of me.â
She resumed, in a conciliating voice:
âIf you have troubles, and can tell them to me, it would perhaps be a
relief to you to do so. Yesterday you came in looking so sad. You must
not allow yourself to be cast down in that way. I have spent a very
anxious night. I came to your door three times to listen, tormented by
the idea that you were suffering.â
Gently as she spoke, her words were like the cut of a whip. In his weak
and nervous condition a sudden access of rage made him push away the
book and rise up trembling.
âSo you spy upon me, then. I cannot even retire to my room without
people coming to glue their ears to the walls. Yes, you listen even to
the beatings of my heart. You watch for my death, to pillage and burn
everything here.â
His voice rose and all his unjust suffering vented itself in complaints
and threats.
âI forbid you to occupy yourself about me. Is there nothing else that
you have to say to me? Have you reflected? Can you put your hand in mine
loyally, and say to me that we are in accord?â
She did not answer. She only continued to look at him with her large
clear eyes, frankly declaring that she would not surrender yet, while
he, exasperated more and more by this attitude, lost all self-control.
âGo away, go away,â he stammered, pointing to the door. âI do not wish
you to remain near me. I do not wish to have enemies near me. I do not
wish you to remain near me to drive me mad!â
She rose, very pale, and went at once out of the room, without looking
behind, carrying her work with her.
During the month which followed, Pascal took refuge in furious and
incessant work. He now remained obstinately, for whole days at a time,
alone in the study, sometimes passing even the nights there, going over
old documents, to revise all his works on heredity. It seemed as if a
sort of frenzy had seized him to assure himself of the legitimacy of his
hopes, to force science to give him the certainty that humanity could be
remade--made a higher, a healthy humanity. He no longer left the house,
he abandoned his patients even, and lived among his papers, without air
or exercise. And after a month of this overwork, which exhausted him
without appeasing his domestic torments, he fell into such a state of
nervous exhaustion that illness, for some time latent, declared itself
at last with alarming violence.
Pascal, when he rose in the morning, felt worn out with fatigue, wearier
and less refreshed than he had been on going to bed the night before. He
constantly had pains all over his body; his limbs failed him, after
five minutesâ walk; the slightest exertion tired him; the least movement
caused him intense pain. At times the floor seemed suddenly to sway
beneath his feet. He had a constant buzzing in his ears, flashes of
light dazzled his eyes. He took a loathing for wine, he had no longer
any appetite, and his digestion was seriously impaired. Then, in the
midst of the apathy of his constantly increasing idleness he would have
sudden fits of aimless activity. The equilibrium was destroyed, he
had at times outbreaks of nervous irritability, without any cause. The
slightest emotion brought tears to his eyes. Finally, he would shut
himself up in his room, and give way to paroxysms of despair so violent
that he would sob for hours at a time, without any immediate cause of
grief, overwhelmed simply by the immense sadness of things.
In the early part of December Pascal had a severe attack of neuralgia.
Violent pains in the bones of the skull made him feel at times as if his
head must split. Old Mme. Rougon, who had been informed of his illness,
came to inquire after her son. But she went straight to the kitchen,
wishing to have a talk with Martine first. The latter, with a
heart-broken and terrified air, said to her that monsieur must certainly
be going mad; and she told her of his singular behavior, the continual
tramping about in his room, the locking of all the drawers, the rounds
which he made from the top to the bottom of the house, until two oâclock
in the morning. Tears filled her eyes and she at last hazarded the
opinion that monsieur must be possessed with a devil, and that it would
be well to notify the cure of St. Saturnin.
âSo good a man,â she said, âa man for whom one would let oneâs self be
cut in pieces! How unfortunate it is that one cannot get him to go to
church, for that would certainly cure him at once.â
Clotilde, who had heard her grandmotherâs voice, entered at this moment.
She, too, wandered through the empty rooms, spending most of her time in
the deserted apartment on the ground floor. She did not speak, however,
but only listened with her thoughtful and expectant air.
âAh, goodday! It is you, my dear. Martine tells me that Pascal is
possessed with a devil. That is indeed my opinion also; only the devil
is called pride. He thinks that he knows everything. He is Pope and
Emperor in one, and naturally it exasperates him when people donât agree
with him.â
She shrugged her shoulders with supreme disdain.
âAs for me, all that would only make me laugh if it were not so sad. A
fellow who knows nothing about anything; who has always been wrapped up
in his books; who has not lived. Put him in a drawing-room, and he would
know as little how to act as a new-born babe. And as for women, he does
not even know what they are.â
Forgetting to whom she was speaking, a young girl and a servant, she
lowered her voice, and said confidentially:
âWell, one pays for being too sensible, too. Neither a wife nor a
sweetheart nor anything. That is what has finally turned his brain.â
Clotilde did not move. She only lowered her eyelids slowly over her
large thoughtful eyes; then she raised them again, maintaining her
impenetrable countenance, unwilling, unable, perhaps, to give expression
to what was passing within her. This was no doubt all still confused, a
complete evolution, a great change which was taking place, and which she
herself did not clearly understand.
âHe is upstairs, is he not?â resumed Felicite. âI have come to see him,
for this must end; it is too stupid.â
And she went upstairs, while Martine returned to her saucepans, and
Clotilde went to wander again through the empty house.
Upstairs in the study Pascal sat seemingly in a stupor, his face bent
over a large open book. He could no longer read, the words danced before
his eyes, conveying no meaning to his mind. But he persisted, for it
was death to him to lose his faculty for work, hitherto so powerful.
His mother at once began to scold him, snatching the book from him,
and flinging it upon a distant table, crying that when one was sick one
should take care of oneâs self. He rose with a quick, angry movement,
about to order her away as he had ordered Clotilde. Then, by a last
effort of the will, he became again deferential.
âMother, you know that I have never wished to dispute with you. Leave
me, I beg of you.â
She did not heed him, but began instead to take him to task about his
continual distrust. It was he himself who had given himself a fever,
always fancying that he was surrounded by enemies who were setting traps
for him, and watching him to rob him. Was there any common sense in
imagining that people were persecuting him in that way? And then she
accused him of allowing his head to be turned by his discovery, his
famous remedy for curing every disease. That was as much as to think
himself equal to the good God; which only made it all the more cruel
when he found out how mistaken he was. And she mentioned Lafouasse, the
man whom he had killed--naturally, she could understand that that had
not been very pleasant for him; indeed there was cause enough in it to
make him take to his bed.
Pascal, still controlling himself, very pale and with eyes cast on the
ground, contented himself with repeating:
âMother, leave me, I beg of you.â
âNo, I wonât leave you,â she cried with the impetuosity which was
natural to her, and which her great age had in no wise diminished. âI
have come precisely to stir you up a little, to rid you of this fever
which is consuming you. No, this cannot continue. I donât wish that we
should again become the talk of the whole town on your account. I wish
you to take care of yourself.â
He shrugged his shoulders, and said in a low voice, as if speaking to
himself, with an uneasy look, half of conviction, half of doubt:
âI am not ill.â
But Felicite, beside herself, burst out, gesticulating violently:
âNot ill! not ill! Truly, there is no one like a physician for not being
able to see himself. Why, my poor boy, every one that comes near you is
shocked by your appearance. You are becoming insane through pride and
fear!â
This time Pascal raised his head quickly, and looked her straight in the
eyes, while she continued:
âThis is what I had to tell you, since it seems that no one else would
undertake the task. You are old enough to know what you ought to do.
You should make an effort to shake off all this; you should think of
something else; you should not let a fixed idea take possession of you,
especially when you belong to a family like ours. You know it; have
sense, and take care of yourself.â
He grew paler than before, looking fixedly at her still, as if he were
sounding her, to know what there was of her in him. And he contented
himself with answering:
âYou are right, mother. I thank you.â
When he was again alone, he dropped into his seat before the table, and
tried once more to read his book. But he could not succeed, any more
than before, in fixing his attention sufficiently to understand the
words, whose letters mingled confusedly together before his eyes. And
his motherâs words buzzed in his ears; a vague terror, which had some
time before sprung up within him, grew and took shape, haunting him now
as an immediate and clearly defined danger. He who two months before
had boasted triumphantly of not belonging to the family, was he about
to receive the most terrible of contradictions? Ah, this egotistic joy,
this intense joy of not belonging to it, was it to give place to
the terrible anguish of being struck in his turn? Was he to have the
humiliation of seeing the taint revive in him? Was he to be dragged
down to the horror of feeling himself in the clutches of the monster
of heredity? The sublime idea, the lofty certitude which he had of
abolishing suffering, of strengthening manâs will, of making a new and a
higher humanity, a healthy humanity, was assuredly only the beginning of
the monomania of vanity. And in his bitter complaint of being watched,
in his desire to watch the enemies who, he thought, were obstinately
bent on his destruction, were easily to be recognized the symptoms of
the monomania of suspicion. So then all the diseases of the race were
to end in this terrible case--madness within a brief space, then general
paralysis, and a dreadful death.
From this day forth Pascal was as if possessed. The state of nervous
exhaustion into which overwork and anxiety had thrown him left him an
unresisting prey to this haunting fear of madness and death. All the
morbid sensations which he felt, his excessive fatigue on rising, the
buzzing in his ears, the flashes of light before his eyes, even
his attacks of indigestion and his paroxysms of tears, were so many
infallible symptoms of the near insanity with which he believed himself
threatened. He had completely lost, in his own case, the keen power
of diagnosis of the observant physician, and if he still continued to
reason about it, it was only to confound and pervert symptoms, under the
influence of the moral and physical depression into which he had fallen.
He was no longer master of himself; he was mad, so to say, to convince
himself hour by hour that he must become so.
All the days of this pale December were spent by him in going deeper
and deeper into his malady. Every morning he tried to escape from the
haunting subject, but he invariably ended by shutting himself in the
study to take up again, in spite of himself, the tangled skein of the
day before.
The long study which he had made of heredity, his important researches,
his works, completed the poisoning of his peace, furnishing him with
ever renewed causes of disquietude. To the question which he put to
himself continually as to his own hereditary case, the documents were
there to answer it by all possible combinations. They were so numerous
that he lost himself among them now. If he had deceived himself, if he
could not set himself apart, as a remarkable case of variation, should
he place himself under the head of reversional heredity, passing
over one, two, or even three generations? Or was his case rather a
manifestation of larvated heredity, which would bring anew proof to the
support of his theory of the germ plasm, or was it simply a singular
case of hereditary resemblance, the sudden apparition of some unknown
ancestor at the very decline of life?
From this moment he never rested, giving himself up completely to the
investigation of his case, searching his notes, rereading his books. And
he studied himself, watching the least of his sensations, to deduce from
them the facts on which he might judge himself. On the days when his
mind was most sluggish, or when he thought he experienced particular
phenomena of vision, he inclined to a predominance of the original
nervous lesion; while, if he felt that his limbs were affected, his feet
heavy and painful, he imagined he was suffering the indirect influence
of some ancestor come from outside. Everything became confused, until at
last he could recognize himself no longer, in the midst of the imaginary
troubles which agitated his disturbed organism. And every evening the
conclusion was the same, the same knell sounded in his brain--heredity,
appalling heredity, the fear of becoming mad.
In the early part of January Clotilde was an involuntary spectator of a
scene which wrung her heart. She was sitting before one of the windows
of the study, reading, concealed by the high back of her chair, when
she saw Pascal, who had been shut up in his room since the day before,
entering. He held open before his eyes with both hands a sheet of
yellow paper, in which she recognized the genealogical tree. He was so
completely absorbed, his gaze was so fixed, that she might have come
forward without his observing her. He spread the tree upon the table,
continuing to look at it for a long time, with the terrified expression
of interrogation which had become habitual to him, which gradually
changed to one of supplication, the tears coursing down his cheeks.
Why, great God! would not the tree answer him, and tell him what
ancestor he resembled, in order that he might inscribe his case on his
own leaf, beside the others? If he was to become mad, why did not the
tree tell him so clearly, which would have calmed him, for he believed
that his suffering came only from his uncertainty? Tears clouded his
vision, yet still he looked, he exhausted himself in this longing to
know, in which his reason must finally give way.
Clotilde hastily concealed herself as she saw him walk over to the
press, which he opened wide. He seized the envelopes, threw them on
the table, and searched among them feverishly. It was the scene of the
terrible night of the storm that was beginning over again, the gallop
of nightmares, the procession of phantoms, rising at his call from this
heap of old papers. As they passed by, he addressed to each of them a
question, an ardent prayer, demanding the origin of his malady, hoping
for a word, a whisper which should set his doubts at rest. First, it was
only an indistinct murmur, then came words and fragments of phrases.
âIs it you--is it you--is it you--oh, old mother, the mother of us
all--who are to give me your madness? Is it you, inebriate uncle, old
scoundrel of an uncle, whose drunkenness I am to pay for? Is it you,
ataxic nephew, or you, mystic nephew, or yet you, idiot niece, who are
to reveal to me the truth, showing me one of the forms of the lesion
from which I suffer? Or is it rather you, second cousin, who hanged
yourself; or you, second cousin, who committed murder; or you, second
cousin, who died of rottenness, whose tragic ends announce to me
mine--death in a cell, the horrible decomposition of being?â
And the gallop continued, they rose and passed by with the speed of the
wind. The papers became animate, incarnate, they jostled one another,
they trampled on one another, in a wild rush of suffering humanity.
âAh, who will tell me, who will tell me, who will tell me?--Is it he
who died mad? he who was carried off by phthisis? he who was killed
by paralysis? she whose constitutional feebleness caused her to die
in early youth?--Whose is the poison of which I am to die? What is it,
hysteria, alcoholism, tuberculosis, scrofula? And what is it going to
make of me, an ataxic or a madman? A madman. Who was it said a madman?
They all say it--a madman, a madman, a madman!â
Sobs choked Pascal. He let his dejected head fall among the papers, he
wept endlessly, shaken by shuddering sobs. And Clotilde, seized by a
sort of awe, feeling the presence of the fate which rules over races,
left the room softly, holding her breath; for she knew that it would
mortify him exceedingly if he knew that she had been present.
Long periods of prostration followed. January was very cold. But the sky
remained wonderfully clear, a brilliant sun shone in the limpid blue;
and at La Souleiade, the windows of the study facing south formed a sort
of hothouse, preserving there a delightfully mild temperature. They did
not even light a fire, for the room was always filled with a flood of
sunshine, in which the flies that had survived the winter flew about
lazily. The only sound to be heard was the buzzing of their wings. It
was a close and drowsy warmth, like a breath of spring that had lingered
in the old house baked by the heat of summer.
Pascal, still gloomy, dragged through the days there, and it was there,
too, that he overheard one day the closing words of a conversation
which aggravated his suffering. As he never left his room now before
breakfast, Clotilde had received Dr. Ramond this morning in the study,
and they were talking there together in an undertone, sitting beside
each other in the bright sunshine.
It was the third visit which Ramond had made during the last week.
Personal reasons, the necessity, especially, of establishing definitely
his position as a physician at Plassans, made it expedient for him not
to defer his marriage much longer: and he wished to obtain from Clotilde
a decisive answer. On each of his former visits the presence of a third
person had prevented him from speaking. As he desired to receive her
answer from herself directly he had resolved to declare himself to her
in a frank conversation. Their intimate friendship, and the discretion
and good sense of both, justified him in taking this step. And he ended,
smiling, looking into her eyes:
âI assure you, Clotilde, that it is the most reasonable of
_denouements_. You know that I have loved you for a long time. I have a
profound affection and esteem for you. That alone might perhaps not be
sufficient, but, in addition, we understand each other perfectly, and we
should be very happy together, I am convinced of it.â
She did not cast down her eyes; she, too, looked at him frankly, with a
friendly smile. He was, in truth, very handsome, in his vigorous young
manhood.
âWhy do you not marry Mlle. Leveque, the lawyerâs daughter?â she asked.
âShe is prettier and richer than I am, and I know that she would gladly
accept you. My dear friend, I fear that you are committing a folly in
choosing me.â
He did not grow impatient, seeming still convinced of the wisdom of his
determination.
âBut I do not love Mlle. Leveque, and I do love you. Besides, I have
considered everything, and I repeat that I know very well what I am
about. Say yes; you can take no better course.â
Then she grew very serious, and a shadow passed over her face, the
shadow of those reflections, of those almost unconscious inward
struggles, which kept her silent for days at a time. She did not see
clearly yet, she still struggled against herself, and she wished to
wait.
âWell, my friend, since you are really serious, do not ask me to give
you an answer to-day; grant me a few weeks longer. Master is indeed very
ill. I am greatly troubled about him; and you would not like to owe my
consent to a hasty impulse. I assure you, for my part, that I have a
great deal of affection for you, but it would be wrong to decide at this
moment; the house is too unhappy. It is agreed, is it not? I will not
make you wait long.â
And to change the conversation she added:
âYes, I am uneasy about master. I wished to see you, in order to tell
you so. The other day I surprised him weeping violently, and I am
certain the fear of becoming mad haunts him. The day before yesterday,
when you were talking to him, I saw that you were examining him. Tell me
frankly, what do you think of his condition? Is he in any danger?â
âNot the slightest!â exclaimed Dr. Ramond. âHis system is a little out
of order, that is all. How can a man of his ability, who has made so
close a study of nervous diseases, deceive himself to such an extent? It
is discouraging, indeed, if the clearest and most vigorous minds can go
so far astray. In his case his own discovery of hypodermic injections
would be excellent. Why does he not use them with himself?â
And as the young girl replied, with a despairing gesture, that he would
not listen to her, that he would not even allow her to speak to him now,
Ramond said:
âWell, then, I will speak to him.â
It was at this moment that Pascal came out of his room, attracted by
the sound of voices. But on seeing them both so close to each other,
so animated, so youthful, and so handsome in the sunshine--clothed with
sunshine, as it were--he stood still in the doorway. He looked fixedly
at them, and his pale face altered.
Ramond had a moment before taken Clotildeâs hand, and he was holding it
in his.
âIt is a promise, is it not? I should like the marriage to take place
this summer. You know how much I love you, and I shall eagerly await
your answer.â
âVery well,â she answered. âBefore a month all will be settled.â
A sudden giddiness made Pascal stagger. Here now was this boy, his
friend, his pupil, who had introduced himself into his house to rob him
of his treasure! He ought to have expected this _denouement_, yet the
sudden news of a possible marriage surprised him, overwhelmed him like
an unforeseen catastrophe that had forever ruined his life. This girl
whom he had fashioned, whom he had believed his own, she would leave
him, then, without regret, she would leave him to die alone in his
solitude. Only the day before she had made him suffer so intensely that
he had asked himself whether he should not part from her and send her to
her brother, who was always writing for her. For an instant he had even
decided on this separation, for the good of both. Yet to find her here
suddenly, with this man, to hear her promise to give him an answer, to
think that she would marry, that she would soon leave him, this stabbed
him to the heart.
At the sound of his heavy step as he came forward, the two young people
turned round in some embarrassment.
âWhy, master, we were just talking about you,â said Ramond gaily. âYes,
to be frank with you, we were conspiring. Come, why do you not take care
of yourself? There is nothing serious the matter with you; you would be
on your feet again in a fortnight if you did.â
Pascal, who had dropped into a chair, continued to look at them. He had
still the power to control himself, and his countenance gave no evidence
of the wound which he had just received. He would assuredly die of it,
and no one would suspect the malady which had carried him off. But it
was a relief to him to be able to give vent to his feelings, and he
declared violently that he would not take even so much as a glass of
tisane.
âTake care of myself!â he cried; âwhat for? Is it not all over with my
old carcass?â
Ramond insisted, with a good-tempered smile.
âYou are sounder than any of us. This is a trifling disturbance, and
you know that you have the remedy in your own hands. Use your hypodermic
injection.â
Pascal did not allow him to finish. This filled the measure of his rage.
He angrily asked if they wished him to kill himself, as he had killed
Lafouasse. His injections! A pretty invention, of which he had good
reason to be proud. He abjured medicine, and he swore that he would
never again go near a patient. When people were no longer good for
anything they ought to die; that would be the best thing for everybody.
And that was what he was going to try to do, so as to have done with it
all.
âBah! bah!â said Ramond at last, resolving to take his leave, through
fear of exciting him still further; âI will leave you with Clotilde; I
am not at all uneasy, Clotilde will take care of you.â
But Pascal had on this morning received the final blow. He took to his
bed toward evening, and remained for two whole days without opening
the door of his room. It was in vain that Clotilde, at last becoming
alarmed, knocked loudly at the door. There was no answer. Martine went
in her turn and begged monsieur, through the keyhole, at least to tell
her if he needed anything. A deathlike silence reigned; the room seemed
to be empty.
Then, on the morning of the third day, as the young girl by chance
turned the knob, the door yielded; perhaps it had been unlocked for
hours. And she might enter freely this room in which she had never set
foot: a large room, rendered cold by its northern exposure, in which she
saw a small iron bed without curtains, a shower bath in a corner, a long
black wooden table, a few chairs, and on the table, on the floor, along
the walls, an array of chemical apparatus, mortars, furnaces, machines,
instrument cases. Pascal, up and dressed, was sitting on the edge of his
bed, in trying to arrange which he had exhausted himself.
âDonât you want me to nurse you, then?â she asked with anxious
tenderness, without venturing to advance into the room.
âOh, you can come in,â he said with a dejected gesture. âI wonât beat
you. I have not the strength to do that now.â
And from this day on he tolerated her about him, and allowed her to wait
on him. But he had caprices still. He would not let her enter the room
when he was in bed, possessed by a sort of morbid shame; then he made
her send him Martine. But he seldom remained in bed, dragging himself
about from chair to chair, in his utter inability to do any kind of
work. His malady continued to grow worse, until at last he was reduced
to utter despair, tortured by sick headaches, and without the strength,
as he said, to put one foot before the other, convinced every morning
that he would spend the night at the Tulettes, a raving maniac. He grew
thin; his face, under its crown of white hair--which he still cared
for through a last remnant of vanity--acquired a look of suffering,
of tragic beauty. And although he allowed himself to be waited on, he
refused roughly all remedies, in the distrust of medicine into which he
had fallen.
Clotilde now devoted herself to him entirely. She gave up everything
else; at first she attended low mass, then she left off going to church
altogether. In her impatience for some certain happiness, she felt as if
she were taking a step toward that end by thus devoting all her moments
to the service of a beloved being whom she wished to see once more well
and happy. She made a complete sacrifice of herself, she sought to
find happiness in the happiness of another; and all this unconsciously,
solely at the impulse of her womanâs heart, in the midst of the crisis
through which she was still passing, and which was modifying her
character profoundly, without her knowledge. She remained silent
regarding the disagreement which separated them. The idea did not again
occur to her to throw herself on his neck, crying that she was his, that
he might return to life, since she gave herself to him. In her thoughts
she grieved to see him suffer; she was only an affectionate girl,
who took care of him, as any female relative would have done. And
her attentions were very pure, very delicate, occupying her life so
completely that her days now passed swiftly, exempt from tormenting
thoughts of the Beyond, filled with the one wish of curing him.
But where she had a hard battle to fight was in prevailing upon him
to use his hypodermic injections upon himself. He flew into a passion,
disowned his discovery, and called himself an imbecile. She too cried
out. It was she now who had faith in science, who grew indignant at
seeing him doubt his own genius. He resisted for a long time; then
yielding to the empire which she had acquired over him, he consented,
simply to avoid the affectionate dispute which she renewed with him
every morning. From the very first he experienced great relief from
the injections, although he refused to acknowledge it. His mind became
clearer, and he gradually gained strength. Then she was exultant, filled
with enthusiastic pride in him. She vaunted his treatment, and became
indignant because he did not admire himself, as an example of the
miracles which he was able to work. He smiled; he was now beginning to
see clearly into his own condition. Ramond had spoken truly, his illness
had been nothing but nervous exhaustion. Perhaps he would get over it
after all.
âAh, it is you who are curing me, little girl,â he would say, not
wishing to confess his hopes. âMedicines, you see, act according to the
hand that gives them.â
The convalescence was slow, lasting through the whole of February. The
weather remained clear and cold; there was not a single day in which
the study was not flooded with warm, pale sunshine. There were hours
of relapse, however, hours of the blackest melancholy, in which all the
patientâs terrors returned; when his guardian, disconsolate, was obliged
to sit at the other end of the room, in order not to irritate him still
more. He despaired anew of his recovery. He became again bitter and
aggressively ironical.
It was on one of those bad days that Pascal, approaching a window, saw
his neighbor, M. Bellombre, the retired professor, making the round of
his garden to see if his fruit trees were well covered with blossoms.
The sight of the old man, so neat and so erect, with the fine placidity
of the egoist, on whom illness had apparently never laid hold, suddenly
put Pascal beside himself.
âAh!â he growled, âthere is one who will never overwork himself, who
will never endanger his health by worrying!â
And he launched forth into an ironical eulogy on selfishness. To be
alone in the world, not to have a friend, to have neither wife nor
child, what happiness! That hard-hearted miser, who for forty years
had had only other peopleâs children to cuff, who lived aloof from the
world, without even a dog, with a deaf and dumb gardener older than
himself, was he not an example of the greatest happiness possible on
earth? Without a responsibility, without a duty, without an anxiety,
other than that of taking care of his dear health! He was a wise man, he
would live a hundred years.
âAh, the fear of life! that is cowardice which is truly the best wisdom.
To think that I should ever have regretted not having a child of my own!
Has any one a right to bring miserable creatures into the world? Bad
heredity should be ended, life should be ended. The only honest man is
that old coward there!â
M. Bellombre continued peacefully making the round of his pear trees in
the March sunshine. He did not risk a too hasty movement; he economized
his fresh old age. If he met a stone in his path, he pushed it aside
with the end of his cane, and then walked tranquilly on.
âLook at him! Is he not well preserved; is he not handsome? Have not all
the blessings of heaven been showered down upon him? He is the happiest
man I know.â
Clotilde, who had listened in silence, suffered from the irony of
Pascal, the full bitterness of which she divined. She, who usually took
M. Bellombreâs part, felt a protest rise up within her. Tears came to
her eyes, and she answered simply in a low voice:
âYes; but he is not loved.â
These words put a sudden end to the painful scene. Pascal, as if he had
received an electric shock, turned and looked at her. A sudden rush of
tenderness brought tears to his eyes also, and he left the room to keep
from weeping.
The days wore on in the midst of these alternations of good and bad
hours. He recovered his strength but slowly, and what put him in despair
was that whenever he attempted to work he was seized by a profuse
perspiration. If he had persisted, he would assuredly have fainted. So
long as he did not work he felt that his convalescence was making little
progress. He began to take an interest again, however, in his accustomed
investigations. He read over again the last pages that he had written,
and, with this reawakening of the scientist in him, his former anxieties
returned. At one time he fell into a state of such depression, that the
house and all it contained ceased to exist for him. He might have been
robbed, everything he possessed might have been taken and destroyed,
without his even being conscious of the disaster. Now he became again
watchful, from time to time he would feel his pocket, to assure himself
that the key of the press was there.
But one morning when he had overslept himself, and did not leave
his room until eleven oâclock, he saw Clotilde in the study, quietly
occupied in copying with great exactness in pastel a branch of flowering
almond. She looked up, smiling; and taking a key that was lying beside
her on the desk, she offered it to him, saying:
âHere, master.â
Surprised, not yet comprehending, he looked at the object which she held
toward him.
âWhat is that?â he asked.
âIt is the key of the press, which you must have dropped from your
pocket yesterday, and which I picked up here this morning.â
Pascal took it with extraordinary emotion. He looked at it, and then at
Clotilde. Was it ended, then? She would persecute him no more. She was
no longer eager to rob everything, to burn everything. And seeing her
still smiling, she also looking moved, an immense joy filled his heart.
He caught her in his arms, crying:
âAh, little girl, if we might only not be too unhappy!â
Then he opened a drawer of his table and threw the key into it, as he
used to do formerly.
From this time on he gained strength, and his convalescence progressed
more rapidly. Relapses were still possible, for he was still very weak.
But he was able to write, and this made the days less heavy. The sun,
too, shone more brightly, the study being so warm at times that it
became necessary to half close the shutters. He refused to see visitors,
barely tolerated Martine, and had his mother told that he was sleeping,
when she came at long intervals to inquire for him. He was happy only in
this delightful solitude, nursed by the rebel, the enemy of yesterday,
the docile pupil of to-day. They would often sit together in silence
for a long time, without feeling any constraint. They meditated, or lost
themselves in infinitely sweet reveries.
One day, however, Pascal seemed very grave. He was now convinced
that his illness had resulted from purely accidental causes, and that
heredity had had no part in it. But this filled him none the less with
humility.
âMy God!â he murmured, âhow insignificant we are! I who thought myself
so strong, who was so proud of my sane reason! And here have I barely
escaped being made insane by a little trouble and overwork!â
He was silent, and sank again into thought. After a time his eyes
brightened, he had conquered himself. And in a moment of reason and
courage, he came to a resolution.
âIf I am getting better,â he said, âit is especially for your sake that
I am glad.â
Clotilde, not understanding, looked up and said:
âHow is that?â
âYes, on account of your marriage. Now you will be able to fix the day.â
She still seemed surprised.
âAh, true--my marriage!â
âShall we decide at once upon the second week in June?â
âYes, the second week in June; that will do very well.â
They spoke no more; she fixed her eyes again on the piece of sewing on
which she was engaged, while he, motionless, and with a grave face, sat
looking into space.
VII.
On this day, on arriving at La Souleiade, old Mme. Rougon perceived
Martine in the kitchen garden, engaged in planting leeks; and, as she
sometimes did, she went over to the servant to have a chat with her, and
find out from her how things were going on, before entering the house.
For some time past she had been in despair about what she called
Clotildeâs desertion. She felt truly that she would now never obtain
the documents through her. The girl was behaving disgracefully, she was
siding with Pascal, after all she had done for her; and she was becoming
perverted to such a degree that for a month past she had not been seen
in Church. Thus she returned to her first idea, to get Clotilde away and
win her son over when, left alone, he should be weakened by solitude.
Since she had not been able to persuade the girl to go live with her
brother, she eagerly desired the marriage. She would like to throw her
into Dr. Ramondâs arms to-morrow, in her impatience at so many delays.
And she had come this afternoon with a feverish desire to hurry on
matters.
âGood-day, Martine. How is every one here?â
The servant, kneeling down, her hands full of clay, lifted up her pale
face, protected against the sun by a handkerchief tied over her cap.
âAs usual, madame, pretty well.â
They went on talking, Felicite treating her as a confidante, as a
devoted daughter, one of the family, to whom she could tell everything.
She began by questioning her; she wished to know if Dr. Ramond had come
that morning. He had come, but they had talked only about indifferent
matters. This put her in despair, for she had seen the doctor on the
previous day, and he had unbosomed himself to her, chagrined at not
having yet received a decisive answer, and eager now to obtain at least
Clotildeâs promise. Things could not go on in this way, the young girl
must be compelled to engage herself to him.
âHe has too much delicacy,â she cried. âI have told him so. I knew very
well that this morning, even, he would not venture to demand a positive
answer. And I have come to interfere in the matter. We shall see if I
cannot oblige her to come to a decision.â
Then, more calmly:
âMy son is on his feet now; he does not need her.â
Martine, who was again stooping over the bed, planting her leeks,
straightened herself quickly.
âAh, that for sure!â
And a flush passed over her face, worn by thirty years of service. For a
wound bled within her; for some time past the master scarcely tolerated
her about him. During the whole time of his illness he had kept her at
a distance, accepting her services less and less every day, and finally
closing altogether to her the door of his room and of the workroom.
She had a vague consciousness of what was taking place, an instinctive
jealousy tortured her, in her adoration of the master, whose chattel she
had been satisfied to be for so many years.
âFor sure, we have no need of mademoiselle. I am quite able to take care
of monsieur.â
Then she, who was so discreet, spoke of her labors in the garden, saying
that she made time to cultivate the vegetables, so as to save a few
daysâ wages of a man. True, the house was large, but when one was not
afraid of work, one could manage to do all there was to be done. And
then, when mademoiselle should have left them, that would be always one
less to wait upon. And her eyes brightened unconsciously at the thought
of the great solitude, of the happy peace in which they should live
after this departure.
âIt would give me pain,â she said, lowering her voice, âfor it would
certainly give monsieur a great deal. I would never have believed that
I could be brought to wish for such a separation. Only, madame, I agree
with you that it is necessary, for I am greatly afraid that mademoiselle
will end by going to ruin here, and that there will be another soul
lost to the good God. Ah, it is very sad; my heart is so heavy about it
sometimes that it is ready to burst.â
âThey are both upstairs, are they not?â said Felicite. âI will go up and
see them, and I will undertake to oblige them to end the matter.â
An hour later, when she came down again, she found Martine still on
her knees on the soft earth, finishing her planting. Upstairs, from her
first words, when she said that she had been talking with Dr. Ramond,
and that he had shown himself anxious to know his fate quickly, she saw
that Dr. Pascal approved--he looked grave, he nodded his head as if
to say that this wish seemed to him very natural. Clotilde, herself,
ceasing to smile, seemed to listen to him with deference. But she
manifested some surprise. Why did they press her? Master had fixed the
marriage for the second week in June; she had, then, two full months
before her. Very soon she would speak about it with Ramond. Marriage was
so serious a matter that they might very well give her time to reflect,
and let her wait until the last moment to engage herself. And she said
all this with her air of good sense, like a person resolved on coming to
a decision. And Felicite was obliged to content herself with the evident
desire that both had that matters should have the most reasonable
conclusion.
âIndeed I believe that it is settled,â ended Felicite. âHe seems to
place no obstacle in the way, and she seems only to wish not to act
hastily, like a girl who desires to examine her heart closely, before
engaging herself for life. I will give her a week more for reflection.â
Martine, sitting on her heels, was looking fixedly on the ground with a
clouded face.
âYes, yes,â she murmured, in a low voice, âmademoiselle has been
reflecting a great deal of late. I am always meeting her in some corner.
You speak to her, and she does not answer you. That is the way people
are when they are breeding a disease, or when they have a secret on
their mind. There is something going on; she is no longer the same, no
longer the same.â
And she took the dibble again and planted a leek, in her rage for work;
while old Mme. Rougon went away, somewhat tranquillized; certain, she
said, that the marriage would take place.
Pascal, in effect, seemed to accept Clotildeâs marriage as a thing
settled, inevitable. He had not spoken with her about it again, the
rare allusions which they made to it between themselves, in their hourly
conversations, left them undisturbed; and it was simply as if the two
months which they still had to live together were to be without end, an
eternity stretching beyond their view.
She, especially, would look at him smiling, putting off to a future
day troubles and decisions with a pretty vague gesture, as if to leave
everything to beneficent life. He, now well and gaining strength daily,
grew melancholy only when he returned to the solitude of his chamber
at night, after she had retired. He shuddered and turned cold at the
thought that a time would come when he would be always alone. Was it the
beginning of old age that made him shiver in this way? He seemed to
see it stretching before him, like a shadowy region in which he already
began to feel all his energy melting away. And then the regret of having
neither wife nor child filled him with rebelliousness, and wrung his
heart with intolerable anguish.
Ah, why had he not lived! There were times when he cursed science,
accusing it of having taken from him the best part of his manhood.
He had let himself be devoured by work; work had consumed his brain,
consumed his heart, consumed his flesh. All this solitary, passionate
labor had produced only books, blackened paper, that would be scattered
to the winds, whose cold leaves chilled his hands as he turned them
over. And no living womanâs breast to lean upon, no childâs warm locks
to kiss! He had lived the cold, solitary life of a selfish scientist,
and he would die in cold solitude. Was he indeed going to die thus?
Would he never taste the happiness enjoyed by even the common porters,
by the carters who cracked their whips, passing by under his windows?
But he must hasten, if he would; soon, no doubt, it would be too late.
All his unemployed youth, all his pent-up desires, surged tumultuously
through his veins. He swore that he would yet love, that he would live
a new life, that he would drain the cup of every passion that he had not
yet tasted, before he should be an old man. He would knock at the doors,
he would stop the passers-by, he would scour the fields and town.
On the following day, when he had taken his shower bath and left his
room, all his fever was calmed, the burning pictures had faded away,
and he fell back into his natural timidity. Then, on the next night, the
fear of solitude drove sleep away as before, his blood kindled again,
and the same despair, the same rebelliousness, the same longing not to
die without having known family joys returned. He suffered a great deal
in this crisis.
During these feverish nights, with eyes wide open in the darkness, he
dreamed always, over and over again the same dream. A girl would come
along the road, a girl of twenty, marvelously beautiful; and she would
enter and kneel down before him in an attitude of submissive adoration,
and he would marry her. She was one of those pilgrims of love such as
we find in ancient story, who have followed a star to come and restore
health and strength to some aged king, powerful and covered with glory.
He was the aged king, and she adored him, she wrought the miracle, with
her twenty years, of bestowing on him a part of her youth. In her love
he recovered his courage and his faith in life.
Ah, youth! he hungered fiercely for it. In his declining days this
passionate longing for youth was like a revolt against approaching age,
a desperate desire to turn back, to be young again, to begin life over
again. And in this longing to begin life over again, there was not only
regret for the vanished joys of youth, the inestimable treasure of dead
hours, to which memory lent its charm; there was also the determined
will to enjoy, now, his health and strength, to lose nothing of the joy
of loving! Ah, youth! how eagerly he would taste of its every pleasure,
how eagerly he would drain every cup, before his teeth should fall out,
before his limbs should grow feeble, before the blood should be chilled
in his veins. A pang pierced his heart when he remembered himself, a
slender youth of twenty, running and leaping agilely, vigorous and hardy
as a young oak, his teeth glistening, his hair black and luxuriant. How
he would cherish them, these gifts scorned before, if a miracle could
restore them to him!
And youthful womanhood, a young girl who might chance to pass by,
disturbed him, causing him profound emotion. This was often even
altogether apart from the individual: the image, merely, of youth, the
perfume and the dazzling freshness which emanated from it, bright eyes,
healthy lips, blooming cheeks, a delicate neck, above all, rounded
and satin-smooth, shaded on the back with down; and youthful womanhood
always presented itself to him tall and slight, divinely slender in its
chaste nudeness. His eyes, gazing into vacancy, followed the vision,
his heart was steeped in infinite longing. There was nothing good or
desirable but youth; it was the flower of the world, the only beauty,
the only joy, the only true good, with health, which nature could bestow
on man. Ah, to begin life over again, to be young again, to clasp in his
embrace youthful womanhood!
Pascal and Clotilde, now that the fine April days had come, covering the
fruit trees with blossoms, resumed their morning walks in La Souleiade.
It was the first time that he had gone out since his illness, and she
led him to the threshing yard, along the paths in the pine wood, and
back again to the terrace crossed by the two bars of shadows thrown by
the secular cypresses. The sun had already warmed the old flagstones
there, and the wide horizon stretched out under a dazzling sky.
One morning when Clotilde had been running, she returned to the house in
such exuberant spirits and so full of pleasant excitement that she went
up to the workroom without taking off either her garden hat or the lace
scarf which she had tied around her neck.
âOh,â she said, âI am so warm! And how stupid I am, not to have taken
off my things downstairs. I will go down again at once.â
She had thrown the scarf on a chair on entering.
But her feverish fingers became impatient when she tried to untie the
strings of her large straw hat.
âThere, now! I have fastened the knot. I cannot undo it, and you must
come to my assistance.â
Pascal, happy and excited too by the pleasure of the walk, rejoiced to
see her so beautiful and so merry. He went over and stood in front of
her.
âWait; hold up your chin. Oh, if you keep moving like that, how do you
suppose I can do it?â
She laughed aloud. He could see the laughter swelling her throat, like
a wave of sound. His fingers became entangled under her chin, that
delicious part of the throat whose warm satin he involuntarily touched.
She had on a gown cut sloping in the neck, and through the opening he
inhaled all the living perfume of the woman, the pure fragrance of her
youth, warmed by the sunshine. All at once a vertigo seized him and he
thought he was going to faint.
âNo, no! I cannot do it,â he said, âunless you keep still!â
The blood throbbed in his temples, and his fingers trembled, while she
leaned further back, unconsciously offering the temptation of her fresh
girlish beauty. It was the vision of royal youth, the bright eyes,
the healthy lips, the blooming cheeks, above all, the delicate neck,
satin-smooth and round, shaded on the back by down. And she seemed
to him so delicately graceful, with her slender throat, in her divine
bloom!
âThere, it is done!â she cried.
Without knowing how, he had untied the strings. The room whirled round,
and then he saw her again, bareheaded now, with her starlike face,
shaking back her golden curls laughingly. Then he was seized with a fear
that he would catch her in his arms and press mad kisses on her bare
neck, and arms, and throat. And he fled from the room, taking with him
the hat, which he had kept in his hand, saying:
âI will hang it in the hall. Wait for me; I want to speak to Martine.â
Once downstairs, he hurried to the abandoned room and locked himself
into it, trembling lest she should become uneasy and come down here
to seek him. He looked wild and haggard, as if he had just committed
a crime. He spoke aloud, and he trembled as he gave utterance for the
first time to the cry that he had always loved her madly, passionately.
Yes, ever since she had grown into womanhood he had adored her. And
he saw her clearly before him, as if a curtain had been suddenly torn
aside, as she was when, from an awkward girl, she became a charming and
lovely creature, with her long tapering limbs, her strong slender body,
with its round throat, round neck, and round and supple arms. And it was
monstrous, but it was true--he hungered for all this with a devouring
hunger, for this youth, this fresh, blooming, fragrant flesh.
Then Pascal, dropping into a rickety chair, hid his face in his hands,
as if to shut out the light of day, and burst into great sobs. Good God!
what was to become of him? A girl whom his brother had confided to
him, whom he had brought up like a good father, and who was now--this
temptress of twenty-five--a woman in her supreme omnipotence! He felt
himself more defenseless, weaker than a child.
And above this physical desire, he loved her also with an immense
tenderness, enamored of her moral and intellectual being, of her
right-mindedness, of her fine intelligence, so fearless and so clear.
Even their discord, the disquietude about spiritual things by which she
was tortured, made her only all the more precious to him, as if she
were a being different from himself, in whom he found a little of the
infinity of things. She pleased him in her rebellions, when she held her
ground against him,--she was his companion and pupil; he saw her such
as he had made her, with her great heart, her passionate frankness,
her triumphant reason. And she was always present with him; he did
not believe that he could exist where she was not; he had need of her
breath; of the flutter of her skirts near him; of her thoughtfulness and
affection, by which he felt himself constantly surrounded; of her looks;
of her smile; of her whole daily womanâs life, which she had given him,
which she would not have the cruelty to take back from him again. At the
thought that she was going away, that she would not be always here, it
seemed to him as if the heavens were about to fall and crush him; as if
the end of all things had come; as if he were about to be plunged in
icy darkness. She alone existed in the world, she alone was lofty and
virtuous, intelligent and beautiful, with a miraculous beauty. Why,
then, since he adored her and since he was her master, did he not go
upstairs and take her in his arms and kiss her like an idol? They were
both free, she was ignorant of nothing, she was a woman in age. This
would be happiness.
Pascal, who had ceased to weep, rose, and would have walked to the door.
But suddenly he dropped again into his chair, bursting into a fresh
passion of sobs. No, no, it was abominable, it could not be! He felt on
his head the frost of his white hair; and he had a horror of his age,
of his fifty-nine years, when he thought of her twenty-five years. His
former chill fear again took possession of him, the certainty that
she had subjugated him, that he would be powerless against the daily
temptation. And he saw her giving him the strings of her hat to untie;
compelling him to lean over her to make some correction in her work; and
he saw himself, too, blind, mad, devouring her neck with ardent kisses.
His indignation against himself at this was so great that he arose,
now courageously, and had the strength to go upstairs to the workroom,
determined to conquer himself.
Upstairs Clotilde had tranquilly resumed her drawing. She did not even
look around at his entrance, but contented herself with saying:
âHow long you have been! I was beginning to think that Martine must have
made a mistake of at least ten sous in her accounts.â
This customary jest about the servantâs miserliness made him laugh.
And he went and sat down quietly at his table. They did not speak again
until breakfast time. A great sweetness bathed him and calmed him, now
that he was near her. He ventured to look at her, and he was touched by
her delicate profile, by her serious, womanly air of application. Had
he been the prey of a nightmare, downstairs, then? Would he be able to
conquer himself so easily?
âAh!â he cried, when Martine called them, âhow hungry I am! You shall
see how I am going to make new muscle!â
She went over to him, and took him by the arm, saying:
âThatâs right, master; you must be gay and strong!â
But that night, when he was in his own room, the agony began again. At
the thought of losing her he was obliged to bury his face in the pillow
to stifle his cries. He pictured her to himself in the arms of another,
and all the tortures of jealousy racked his soul. Never could he find
the courage to consent to such a sacrifice. All sorts of plans clasped
together in his seething brain; he would turn her from the marriage, and
keep her with him, without ever allowing her to suspect his passion;
he would take her away, and they would go from city to city,
occupying their minds with endless studies, in order to keep up their
companionship as master and pupil; or even, if it should be necessary,
he would send her to her brother to nurse him, he would lose her forever
rather than give her to a husband. And at each of these resolutions he
felt his heart, torn asunder, cry out with anguish in the imperious
need of possessing her entirely. He was no longer satisfied with her
presence, he wished to keep her for himself, with himself, as she
appeared to him in her radiant beauty, in the darkness of his chamber,
with her unbound hair falling around her.
His arms clasped the empty air, and he sprang out of bed, staggering
like a drunken man; and it was only in the darkness and silence of the
workroom that he awoke from this sudden fit of madness. Where, then,
was he going, great God? To knock at the door of this sleeping child?
to break it in, perhaps, with a blow of his shoulder? The soft, pure
respiration, which he fancied he heard like a sacred wind in the midst
of the profound silence, struck him on the face and turned him back. And
he returned to his room and threw himself on his bed, in a passion of
shame and wild despair.
On the following day when he arose, Pascal, worn out by want of sleep,
had come to a decision. He took his daily shower bath, and he felt
himself stronger and saner. The resolution to which he had come was to
compel Clotilde to give her word. When she should have formally promised
to marry Ramond, it seemed to him that this final solution would calm
him, would forbid his indulging in any false hopes. This would be a
barrier the more, an insurmountable barrier between her and him. He
would be from that moment armed against his desire, and if he still
suffered, it would be suffering only, without the horrible fear of
becoming a dishonorable man.
On this morning, when he told the young girl that she ought to delay
no longer, that she owed a decisive answer to the worthy fellow who had
been awaiting it so long, she seemed at first astonished. She looked
straight into his eyes, but he had sufficient command over himself not
to show confusion; he insisted merely, with a slightly grieved air, as
if it distressed him to have to say these things to her. Finally, she
smiled faintly and turned her head aside, saying:
âThen, master, you wish me to leave you?â
âMy dear,â he answered evasively, âI assure you that this is becoming
ridiculous. Ramond will have the right to be angry.â
She went over to her desk, to arrange some papers which were on it.
Then, after a momentâs silence, she said:
âIt is odd; now you are siding with grandmother and Martine. They, too,
are persecuting me to end this matter. I thought I had a few days more.
But, in truth, if you all three urge me--â
She did not finish, and he did not press her to explain herself more
clearly.
âWhen do you wish me to tell Ramond to come, then?â
âWhy, he may come whenever he wishes; it does not displease me to see
him. But donât trouble yourself. I will let him know that we will expect
him one of these afternoons.â
On the following day the same scene began over again. Clotilde had taken
no step yet, and Pascal was now angry. He suffered martyrdom; he had
crises of anguish and rebelliousness when she was not present to calm
him by her smiling freshness. And he insisted, in emphatic language,
that she should behave seriously and not trifle any longer with an
honorable man who loved her.
âThe devil! Since the thing is decided, let us be done with it. I warn
you that I will send word to Ramond, and that he will be here to-morrow
at three oâclock.â
She listened in silence, her eyes fixed on the ground. Neither seemed
to wish to touch upon the question as to whether the marriage had really
been decided on or not, and they took the standpoint that there had been
a previous decision, which was irrevocable. When she looked up again he
trembled, for he felt a breath pass by; he thought she was on the point
of saying that she had questioned herself, and that she refused this
marriage. What would he have done, what would have become of him, good
God! Already he was filled with an immense joy and a wild terror. But
she looked at him with the discreet and affectionate smile which never
now left her lips, and she answered with a submissive air:
âAs you please, master. Send him word to be here to-morrow at three
oâclock.â
Pascal spent so dreadful a night that he rose late, saying, as an
excuse, that he had one of his old headaches. He found relief only under
the icy deluge of the shower bath. At ten oâclock he left the house,
saying he would go himself to see Ramond; but he had another object
in going out--he had seen at a show in Plassans a corsage of old point
dâAlencon; a marvel of beauty which lay there awaiting some loverâs
generous folly, and the thought had come to him in the midst of the
tortures of the night, to make a present of it to Clotilde, to adorn her
wedding gown. This bitter idea of himself adorning her, of making her
beautiful and fair for the gift of herself, touched his heart, exhausted
by sacrifice. She knew the corsage, she had admired it with him one day
wonderingly, wishing for it only to place it on the shoulders of the
Virgin at St. Saturnin, an antique Virgin adored by the faithful. The
shopkeeper gave it to him in a little box which he could conceal,
and which he hid, on his return to the house, in the bottom of his
writing-desk.
At three oâclock Dr. Ramond presented himself, and he found Pascal and
Clotilde in the parlor, where they had been awaiting him with secret
excitement and a somewhat forced gaiety, avoiding any further allusion
to his visit. They received him smilingly with exaggerated cordiality.
âWhy, you are perfectly well again, master!â said the young man. âYou
never looked so strong.â
Pascal shook his head.
âOh, oh, strong, perhaps! only the heart is no longer here.â
This involuntary avowal made Clotilde start, and she looked from one to
the other, as if, by the force of circumstances, she compared them with
each other--Ramond, with his smiling and superb face--the face of the
handsome physician adored by the women--his luxuriant black hair and
beard, in all the splendor of his young manhood; and Pascal, with his
white hair and his white beard. This fleece of snow, still so abundant,
retained the tragic beauty of the six months of torture that he had
just passed through. His sorrowful face had aged a little, only his eyes
remained still youthful; brown eyes, brilliant and limpid. But at this
moment all his features expressed so much gentleness, such exalted
goodness, that Clotilde ended by letting her gaze rest upon him with
profound tenderness. There was silence for a moment and each heart
thrilled.
âWell, my children,â resumed Pascal heroically, âI think you have
something to say to each other. I have something to do, too, downstairs.
I will come up again presently.â
And he left the room, smiling back at them.
And soon as they were alone, Clotilde went frankly straight over to
Ramond, with both hands outstretched. Taking his hands in hers, she held
them as she spoke.
âListen, my dear friend; I am going to give you a great grief. You must
not be too angry with me, for I assure you that I have a very profound
friendship for you.â
He understood at once, and he turned very pale.
âClotilde give me no answer now, I beg of you; take more time, if you
wish to reflect further.â
âIt is useless, my dear friend, my decision is made.â
She looked at him with her fine, loyal look. She had not released his
hands, in order that he might know that she was not excited, and that
she was his friend. And it was he who resumed, in a low voice:
âThen you say no?â
âI say no, and I assure you that it pains me greatly to say it. Ask me
nothing; you will no doubt know later on.â
He sat down, crushed by the emotion which he repressed like a strong and
self-contained man, whose mental balance the greatest sufferings cannot
disturb. Never before had any grief agitated him like this. He remained
mute, while she, standing, continued:
âAnd above all, my friend, do not believe that I have played the
coquette with you. If I have allowed you to hope, if I have made you
wait so long for my answer, it was because I did not in very truth see
clearly myself. You cannot imagine through what a crisis I have just
passed--a veritable tempest of emotions, surrounded by darkness from out
of which I have but just found my way.â
He spoke at last.
âSince it is your wish, I will ask you nothing. Besides, it is
sufficient for you to answer one question. You do not love me,
Clotilde?â
She did not hesitate, but said gravely, with an emotion which softened
the frankness of her answer:
âIt is true, I do not love you; I have only a very sincere affection for
you.â
He rose, and stopped by a gesture the kind words which she would have
added.
âIt is ended; let us never speak of it again. I wished you to be happy.
Do not grieve for me. At this moment I feel as if the house had just
fallen about me in ruins. But I must only extricate myself as best I
can.â
A wave of color passed over his pale face, he gasped for air, he crossed
over to the window, then he walked back with a heavy step, seeking
to recover his self-possession. He drew a long breath. In the painful
silence which had fallen they heard Pascal coming upstairs noisily, to
announce his return.
âI entreat you,â murmured Clotilde hurriedly, âto say nothing to master.
He does not know my decision, and I wish to break it to him myself, for
he was bent upon this marriage.â
Pascal stood still in the doorway. He was trembling and breathless, as
if he had come upstairs too quickly. He still found strength to smile at
them, saying:
âWell, children, have you come to an understanding?â
âYes, undoubtedly,â responded Ramond, as agitated as himself.
âThen it is all settled?â
âQuite,â said Clotilde, who had been seized by a faintness.
Pascal walked over to his work-table, supporting himself by the
furniture, and dropped into the chair beside it.
âAh, ah! you see the legs are not so strong after all. It is this old
carcass of a body. But the heart is strong. And I am very happy, my
children, your happiness will make me well again.â
But when Ramond, after a few minutesâ further conversation, had gone
away, he seemed troubled at finding himself alone with the young girl,
and he again asked her:
âIt is settled, quite settled; you swear it to me?â
âEntirely settled.â
After this he did not speak again. He nodded his head, as if to repeat
that he was delighted; that nothing could be better; that at last they
were all going to live in peace. He closed his eyes, feigning to
drop asleep, as he sometimes did in the afternoon. But his heart beat
violently, and his closely shut eyelids held back the tears.
That evening, at about ten oâclock, when Clotilde went downstairs for a
moment to give an order to Martine before she should have gone to bed,
Pascal profited by the opportunity of being left alone, to go and lay
the little box containing the lace corsage on the young girlâs bed. She
came upstairs again, wished him the accustomed good-night, and he had
been for at least twenty minutes in his own room, and was already in his
shirt sleeves, when a burst of gaiety sounded outside his door. A little
hand tapped, and a fresh voice cried, laughing:
âCome, come and look!â
He opened the door, unable to resist this appeal of youth, conquered by
his joy.
âOh, come, come and see what a beautiful little bird has put on my bed!â
And she drew him to her room, taking no refusal. She had lighted the two
candles in it, and the antique, pleasant chamber, with its hangings of
faded rose color, seemed transformed into a chapel; and on the bed, like
a sacred cloth offered to the adoration of the faithful, she had spread
the corsage of old point dâAlencon.
âYou would not believe it! Imagine, I did not see the box at first. I
set things in order a little, as I do every evening. I undressed, and
it was only when I was getting into bed that I noticed your present. Ah,
what a surprise! I was overwhelmed by it! I felt that I could never wait
for the morning, and I put on a skirt and ran to look for you.â
It was not until then that he perceived that she was only half dressed,
as on the night of the storm, when he had surprised her stealing his
papers. And she seemed divine, with her tall, girlish form, her tapering
limbs, her supple arms, her slender body, with its small, firm throat.
She took his hands and pressed them caressingly in her little ones.
âHow good you are; how I thank you! Such a marvel of beauty, so lovely
a present for me, who am nobody! And you remember that I had admired
it, this antique relic of art. I said to you that only the Virgin of St.
Saturnin was worthy of wearing it on her shoulders. I am so happy!
oh, so happy! For it is true, I love beautiful things; I love them so
passionately that at times I wish for impossibilities, gowns woven of
sunbeams, impalpable veils made of the blue of heaven. How beautiful I
am going to look! how beautiful I am going to look!â
Radiant in her ecstatic gratitude, she drew close to him, still looking
at the corsage, and compelling him to admire it with her. Then a sudden
curiosity seized her.
âBut why did you make me this royal present?â
Ever since she had come to seek him in her joyful excitement, Pascal
had been walking in a dream. He was moved to tears by this affectionate
gratitude; he stood there, not feeling the terror which he had dreaded,
but seeming, on the contrary, to be filled with joy, as at the approach
of a great and miraculous happiness. This chamber, which he never
entered, had the religious sweetness of holy places that satisfy all
longings for the unattainable.
His countenance, however, expressed surprise. And he answered:
âWhy, this present, my dear, is for your wedding gown.â
She, in her turn, looked for a moment surprised as if she had not
understood him. Then, with the sweet and singular smile which she had
worn of late she said gayly:
âAh, true, my marriage!â
Then she grew serious again, and said:
âThen you want to get rid of me? It was in order to have me here no
longer that you were so bent upon marrying me. Do you still think me
your enemy, then?â
He felt his tortures return, and he looked away from her, wishing to
retain his courage.
âMy enemy, yes. Are you not so? We have suffered so much through each
other these last days. It is better in truth that we should separate.
And then I do not know what your thoughts are; you have never given me
the answer I have been waiting for.â
She tried in vain to catch his glance, which he still kept turned away.
She began to talk of the terrible night on which they had gone together
through the papers. It was true, in the shock which her whole being had
suffered, she had not yet told him whether she was with him or against
him. He had a right to demand an answer.
She again took his hands in hers, and forced him to look at her.
âAnd it is because I am your enemy that you are sending me away? I am
not your enemy. I am your servant, your chattel, your property. Do you
hear? I am with you and for you, for you alone!â
His face grew radiant; an intense joy shone within his eyes.
âYes, I will wear this lace. It is for my wedding day, for I wish to be
beautiful, very beautiful for you. But do you not understand me, then?
You are my master; it is you I love.â
âNo, no! be silent; you will make me mad! You are betrothed to another.
You have given your word. All this madness is happily impossible.â
âThe other! I have compared him with you, and I have chosen you. I have
dismissed him. He has gone away, and he will never return. There are
only we two now, and it is you I love, and you love me. I know it, and I
give myself to you.â
He trembled violently. He had ceased to struggle, vanquished by the
longing of eternal love.
The spacious chamber, with its antique furniture, warmed by youth, was
as if filled with light. There was no longer either fear or suffering;
they were free. She gave herself to him knowingly, willingly, and he
accepted the supreme gift like a priceless treasure which the strength
of his love had won. Suddenly she murmured in his ear, in a caressing
voice, lingering tenderly on the words:
âMaster, oh, master, master!â
And this word, which she used formerly as a matter of habit, at this
hour acquired a profound significance, lengthening out and prolonging
itself, as if it expressed the gift of her whole being. She uttered
it with grateful fervor, like a woman who accepts, and who surrenders
herself. Was not the mystic vanquished, the real acknowledged, life
glorified with love at last confessed and shared.
âMaster, master, this comes from far back. I must tell you; I must make
my confession. It is true that I went to church in order to be happy.
But I could not believe. I wished to understand too much; my reason
rebelled against their dogmas; their paradise appeared to me an
incredible puerility. But I believed that the world does not stop at
sensation; that there is a whole unknown world, which must be taken
into account; and this, master, I believe still. It is the idea of the
Beyond, which not even happiness, found at last upon your neck, will
efface. But this longing for happiness, this longing to be happy at
once, to have some certainty--how I have suffered from it. If I went to
church, it was because I missed something, and I went there to seek it.
My anguish consisted in this irresistible need to satisfy my longing.
You remember what you used to call my eternal thirst for illusion and
falsehood. One night, in the threshing yard, under the great starry
sky, do you remember? I burst out against your science, I was indignant
because of the ruins with which it strews the earth, I turned my eyes
away from the dreadful wounds which it exposes. And I wished, master,
to take you to a solitude where we might both live in God, far from the
world, forgotten by it. Ah, what torture, to long, to struggle, and not
to be satisfied!â
Softly, without speaking, he kissed her on both eyes.
âThen, master, do you remember again, there was the great moral shock on
the night of the storm, when you gave me that terrible lesson of life,
emptying out your envelopes before me. You had said to me already: âKnow
life, love it, live it as it ought to be lived.â But what a vast, what
a frightful flood, rolling ever onward toward a human sea, swelling it
unceasingly for the unknown future! And, master, the silent work within
me began then. There was born, in my heart and in my flesh, the bitter
strength of the real. At first I was as if crushed, the blow was so
rude. I could not recover myself. I kept silent, because I did not know
clearly what to say. Then, gradually, the evolution was effected. I
still had struggles, I still rebelled against confessing my defeat. But
every day after this the truth grew clearer within me, I knew well that
you were my master, and that there was no happiness for me outside of
you, of your science and your goodness. You were life itself, broad and
tolerant life; saying all, accepting all, solely through the love of
energy and effort, believing in the work of the world, placing the
meaning of destiny in the labor which we all accomplish with love, in
our desperate eagerness to live, to love, to live anew, to live always,
in spite of all the abominations and miseries of life. Oh, to live, to
live! This is the great task, the work that always goes on, and that
will doubtless one day be completed!â
Silent still, he smiled radiantly, and kissed her on the mouth.
âAnd, master, though I have always loved you, even from my earliest
youth, it was, I believe, on that terrible night that you marked me for,
and made me your own. You remember how you crushed me in your grasp. It
left a bruise, and a few drops of blood on my shoulder. Then your being
entered, as it were into mine. We struggled; you were the stronger, and
from that time I have felt the need of a support. At first I thought
myself humiliated; then I saw that it was but an infinitely sweet
submission. I always felt your power within me. A gesture of your hand
in the distance thrilled me as though it had touched me. I would have
wished that you had seized me again in your grasp, that you had crushed
me in it, until my being had mingled with yours forever. And I was
not blind; I knew well that your wish was the same as mine, that the
violence which had made me yours had made you mine; that you struggled
with yourself not to seize me and hold me as I passed by you. To nurse
you when you were ill was some slight satisfaction. From that time,
light began to break upon me, and I at last understood. I went no more
to church, I began to be happy near you, you had become certainty and
happiness. Do you remember that I cried to you, in the threshing yard,
that something was wanting in our affection. There was a void in it
which I longed to fill. What could be wanting to us unless it were God?
And it was God--love, and life.â
VIII.
Then came a period of idyllic happiness. Clotilde was the spring, the
tardy rejuvenation that came to Pascal in his declining years. She came,
bringing to him, with her love, sunshine and flowers. Their rapture
lifted them above the earth; and all this youth she bestowed on him
after his thirty years of toil, when he was already weary and worn
probing the frightful wounds of humanity. He revived in the light of her
great shining eyes, in the fragrance of her pure breath. He had faith
again in life, in health, in strength, in the eternal renewal of nature.
On the morning after her avowal it was ten oâclock before Clotilde left
her room. In the middle of the workroom she suddenly came upon Martine
and, in her radiant happiness, with a burst of joy that carried
everything before it, she rushed toward her, crying:
âMartine, I am not going away! Master and I--we love each other.â
The old servant staggered under the blow. Her poor worn face, nunlike
under its white cap and with its look of renunciation, grew white in the
keenness of her anguish. Without a word, she turned and fled for refuge
to her kitchen, where, leaning her elbows on her chopping-table, and
burying her face in her clasped hands, she burst into a passion of sobs.
Clotilde, grieved and uneasy, followed her. And she tried to comprehend
and to console her.
âCome, come, how foolish you are! What possesses you? Master and I will
love you all the same; we will always keep you with us. You are not
going to be unhappy because we love each other. On the contrary, the
house is going to be gay now from morning till night.â
But Martine only sobbed all the more desperately.
âAnswer me, at least. Tell me why you are angry and why you cry. Does
it not please you then to know that master is so happy, so happy! See, I
will call master and he will make you answer.â
At this threat the old servant suddenly rose and rushed into her own
room, which opened out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind her. In
vain the young girl called and knocked until she was tired; she
could obtain no answer. At last Pascal, attracted by the noise, came
downstairs, saying:
âWhy, what is the matter?â
âOh, it is that obstinate Martine! Only fancy, she began to cry when she
knew that we loved each other. And she has barricaded herself in there,
and she will not stir.â
She did not stir, in fact. Pascal, in his turn, called and knocked. He
scolded; he entreated. Then, one after the other, they began all over
again. Still there was no answer. A deathlike silence reigned in
the little room. And he pictured it to himself, this little room,
religiously clean, with its walnut bureau, and its monastic bed
furnished with white hangings. No doubt the servant had thrown herself
across this bed, in which she had slept alone all her womanâs life, and
was burying her face in the bolster to stifle her sobs.
âAh, so much the worse for her?â said Clotilde at last, in the egotism
of her joy, âlet her sulk!â
Then throwing her arms around Pascal, and raising to his her charming
face, still glowing with the ardor of self-surrender, she said:
âMaster, I will be your servant to-day.â
He kissed her on the eyes with grateful emotion; and she at once set
about preparing the breakfast, turning the kitchen upside down. She
had put on an enormous white apron, and she looked charming, with her
sleeves rolled up, showing her delicate arms, as if for some great
undertaking. There chanced to be some cutlets in the kitchen which she
cooked to a turn. She added some scrambled eggs, and she even succeeded
in frying some potatoes. And they had a delicious breakfast, twenty
times interrupted by her getting up in her eager zeal, to run for the
bread, the water, a forgotten fork. If he had allowed her, she would
have waited upon him on her knees. Ah! to be alone, to be only they two
in this large friendly house, and to be free to laugh and to love each
other in peace.
They spent the whole afternoon in sweeping and putting things in order.
He insisted upon helping her. It was a play; they amused themselves like
two merry children. From time to time, however, they went back to knock
at Martineâs door to remonstrate with her. Come, this was foolish, she
was not going to let herself starve! Was there ever seen such a mule,
when no one had said or done anything to her! But only the echo of their
knocks came back mournfully from the silent room. Not the slightest
sound, not a breath responded. Night fell, and they were obliged to make
the dinner also, which they ate, sitting beside each other, from the
same plate. Before going to bed, they made a last attempt, threatening
to break open the door, but their ears, glued to the wood, could not
catch the slightest sound. And on the following day, when they went
downstairs and found the door still hermetically closed, they began to
be seriously uneasy. For twenty-four hours the servant had given no sign
of life.
Then, on returning to the kitchen after a momentâs absence, Clotilde and
Pascal were stupefied to see Martine sitting at her table, picking some
sorrel for the breakfast. She had silently resumed her place as servant.
âBut what was the matter with you?â cried Clotilde. âWill you speak
now?â
She lifted up her sad face, stained by tears. It was very calm, however,
and it expressed now only the resigned melancholy of old age. She looked
at the young girl with an air of infinite reproach; then she bent her
head again without speaking.
âAre you angry with us, then?â
And as she still remained silent, Pascal interposed:
âAre you angry with us, my good Martine?â
Then the old servant looked up at him with her former look of adoration,
as if she loved him sufficiently to endure all and to remain in spite of
all. At last she spoke.
âNo, I am angry with no one. The master is free. It is all right, if he
is satisfied.â
A new life began from this time. Clotilde, who in spite of her
twenty-five years had still remained childlike, now, under the influence
of love, suddenly bloomed into exquisite womanhood. Since her heart had
awakened, the serious and intelligent boy that she had looked like,
with her round head covered with its short curls, had given place to an
adorable woman, altogether womanly, submissive and tender, loving to be
loved. Her great charm, notwithstanding her learning picked up at random
from her reading and her work, was her virginal _naivete_, as if her
unconscious awaiting of love had made her reserve the gift of her whole
being to be utterly absorbed in the man whom she should love. No doubt
she had given her love as much through gratitude and admiration as
through tenderness; happy to make him happy; experiencing a profound joy
in being no longer only a little girl to be petted, but something of his
very own which he adored, a precious possession, a thing of grace and
joy, which he worshiped on bended knees. She still had the religious
submissiveness of the former devotee, in the hands of a master mature
and strong, from whom she derived consolation and support, retaining,
above and beyond affection, the sacred awe of the believer in the
spiritual which she still was. But more than all, this woman, so
intoxicated with love, was a delightful personification of health and
gaiety; eating with a hearty appetite; having something of the valor
of her grandfather the soldier; filling the house with her swift and
graceful movements, with the bloom of her satin skin, the slender grace
of her neck, of all her young form, divinely fresh.
And Pascal, too, had grown handsome again under the influence of
love, with the serene beauty of a man who had retained his vigor,
notwithstanding his white hairs. His countenance had no longer the
sorrowful expression which it had worn during the months of grief and
suffering through which he had lately passed; his eyes, youthful still,
had recovered their brightness, his features their smiling grace; while
his white hair and beard grew thicker, in a leonine abundance which
lent him a youthful air. He had kept himself, in his solitary life as a
passionate worker, so free from vice and dissipation that he found now
within him a reserve of life and vigor eager to expend itself at last.
There awoke within him new energy, a youthful impetuosity that broke
forth in gestures and exclamations, in a continual need of expansion, of
living. Everything wore a new and enchanting aspect to him; the smallest
glimpse of sky moved him to wonder; the perfume of a simple flower threw
him into an ecstasy; an everyday expression of affection, worn by use,
touched him to tears, as if it had sprung fresh from the heart and had
not been hackneyed by millions of lips. Clotildeâs âI love you,â was
an infinite caress, whose celestial sweetness no human being had ever
before known. And with health and beauty he recovered also his gaiety,
that tranquil gaiety which had formerly been inspired by his love of
life, and which now threw sunshine over his love, over everything that
made life worth living.
They two, blooming youth and vigorous maturity, so healthy, so gay,
so happy, made a radiant couple. For a whole month they remained in
seclusion, not once leaving La Souleiade. The place where both now liked
to be was the spacious workroom, so intimately associated with their
habits and their past affection. They would spend whole days there,
scarcely working at all, however. The large carved oak press remained
with closed doors; so, too, did the bookcases. Books and papers lay
undisturbed upon the tables. Like a young married couple they were
absorbed in their one passion, oblivious of their former occupations,
oblivious of life. The hours seemed all too short to enjoy the charm of
being together, often seated in the same large antique easy-chair, happy
in the depths of this solitude in which they secluded themselves, in
the tranquillity of this lofty room, in this domain which was altogether
theirs, without luxury and without order, full of familiar objects,
brightened from morning till night by the returning gaiety of the April
sunshine. When, seized with remorse, he would talk about working, she
would link her supple arms through his and laughingly hold him prisoner,
so that he should not make himself ill again with overwork. And
downstairs, they loved, too, the dining-room, so gay with its light
panels relieved by blue bands, its antique mahogany furniture, its large
flower pastels, its brass hanging lamp, always shining. They ate in it
with a hearty appetite and they left it, after each meal, only to go
upstairs again to their dear solitude.
Then when the house seemed too small, they had the garden, all La
Souleiade. Spring advanced with the advancing sun, and at the end of
April the roses were beginning to bloom. And what a joy was this domain,
walled around, where nothing from the outside world could trouble
them! Hours flew by unnoted, as they sat on the terrace facing the
vast horizon and the shady banks of the Viorne, and the slopes of
Sainte-Marthe, from the rocky bars of the Seille to the valley of
Plassans in the dusty distance. There was no shade on the terrace but
that of the two secular cypresses planted at its two extremities, like
two enormous green tapers, which could be seen three leagues away. At
times they descended the slope for the pleasure of ascending the giant
steps, and climbing the low walls of uncemented stones which supported
the plantations, to see if the stunted olive trees and the puny almonds
were budding. More often there were delightful walks under the delicate
needles of the pine wood, steeped in sunshine and exhaling a strong odor
of resin; endless walks along the wall of inclosure, from behind which
the only sound they could hear was, at rare intervals, the grating noise
of some cart jolting along the narrow road to Les Fenouilleres; and they
spent delightful hours in the old threshing yard, where they could see
the whole horizon, and where they loved to stretch themselves, tenderly
remembering their former tears, when, loving each other unconsciously
to themselves, they had quarreled under the stars. But their favorite
retreat, where they always ended by losing themselves, was the quincunx
of tall plane trees, whose branches, now of a tender green, looked like
lacework. Below, the enormous box trees, the old borders of the French
garden, of which now scarcely a trace remained, formed a sort of
labyrinth of which they could never find the end. And the slender stream
of the fountain, with its eternal crystalline murmur, seemed to sing
within their hearts. They would sit hand in hand beside the mossy basin,
while the twilight fell around them, their forms gradually fading into
the shadow of the trees, while the water which they could no longer see,
sang its flutelike song.
Up to the middle of May Pascal and Clotilde secluded themselves in this
way, without even crossing the threshold of their retreat. One morning
he disappeared and returned an hour later, bringing her a pair of
diamond earrings which he had hurried out to buy, remembering this was
her birthday. She adored jewels, and the gift astonished and delighted
her. From this time not a week passed in which he did not go out once or
twice in this way to bring her back some present. The slightest excuse
was sufficient for him--a _fete_, a wish, a simple pleasure. He brought
her rings, bracelets, a necklace, a slender diadem. He would take out
the other jewels and please himself by putting them all upon her in
the midst of their laughter. She was like an idol, seated on her chair,
covered with gold,--a band of gold on her hair, gold on her bare arms
and on her bare throat, all shining with gold and precious stones. Her
womanâs vanity was delightfully gratified by this. She allowed herself
to be adored thus, to be adored on bended knees, like a divinity,
knowing well that this was only an exalted form of love. She began at
last to scold a little, however; to make prudent remonstrances; for, in
truth, it was an absurdity to bring her all these gifts which she must
afterward shut up in a drawer, without ever wearing them, as she went
nowhere.
They were forgotten after the hour of joy and gratitude which they gave
her in their novelty was over. But he would not listen to her, carried
away by a veritable mania for giving; unable, from the moment the idea
of giving her an article took possession of him, to resist the desire
of buying it. It was a munificence of the heart; an imperious desire to
prove to her that he thought of her always; a pride in seeing her the
most magnificent, the happiest, the most envied of women; a generosity
more profound even, which impelled him to despoil himself of everything,
of his money, of his life. And then, what a delight, when he saw he had
given her a real pleasure, and she threw herself on his neck, blushing,
thanking him with kisses. After the jewels, it was gowns, articles of
dress, toilet articles. Her room was littered, the drawers were filled
to overflowing.
One morning she could not help getting angry. He had brought her another
ring.
âWhy, I never wear them! And if I did, my fingers would be covered to
the tips. Be reasonable, I beg of you.â
âThen I have not given you pleasure?â he said with confusion.
She threw her arms about his neck, and assured him with tears in her
eyes that she was very happy. He was so good to her! He was so unwearied
in his devotion to her! And when, later in the morning, he ventured to
speak of making some changes in her room, of covering the walls with
tapestry, of putting down a carpet, she again remonstrated.
âOh! no, no! I beg of you. Do not touch my old room, so full of
memories, where I have grown up, where I told you I loved you. I should
no longer feel myself at home in it.â
Downstairs, Martineâs obstinate silence condemned still more strongly
these excessive and useless expenses. She had adopted a less familiar
attitude, as if, in the new situation, she had fallen from her role
of housekeeper and friend to her former station of servant. Toward
Clotilde, especially, she changed, treating her like a young lady, like
a mistress to whom she was less affectionate but more obedient than
formerly. Two or three times, however, she had appeared in the morning
with her face discolored and her eyes sunken with weeping, answering
evasively when questioned, saying that nothing was the matter, that she
had taken cold. And she never made any remark about the gifts with which
the drawers were filled. She did not even seem to see them, arranging
them without a word either of praise or dispraise. But her whole nature
rebelled against this extravagant generosity, of which she could never
have conceived the possibility. She protested in her own fashion;
exaggerating her economy and reducing still further the expenses of
the housekeeping, which she now conducted on so narrow a scale that she
retrenched even in the smallest expenses. For instance, she took only
two-thirds of the milk which she had been in the habit of taking, and
she served sweet dishes only on Sundays. Pascal and Clotilde, without
venturing to complain, laughed between themselves at this parsimony,
repeating the jests which had amused them for ten years past, saying
that after dressing the vegetables she strained them in the colander, in
order to save the butter for future use.
But this quarter she insisted upon rendering an account. She was in the
habit of going every three months to Master Grandguillot, the notary,
to receive the fifteen hundred francs income, of which she disposed
afterward according to her judgment, entering the expenses in a book
which the doctor had years ago ceased to verify. She brought it to him
now and insisted upon his looking over it. He excused himself, saying
that it was all right.
âThe thing is, monsieur,â she said, âthat this time I have been able to
put some money aside. Yes, three hundred francs. Here they are.â
He looked at her in amazement. Generally she just made both ends meet.
By what miracle of stinginess had she been able to save such a sum?
âAh! my poor Martine,â he said at last, laughing, âthat is the reason,
then, that we have been eating so many potatoes of late. You are a pearl
of economy, but indeed you must treat us a little better in the future.â
This discreet reproach wounded her so profoundly that she allowed
herself at last to say:
âWell, monsieur, when there is so much extravagance on the one hand, it
is well to be prudent on the other.â
He understood the allusion, but instead of being angry, he was amused by
the lesson.
âAh, ah! it is you who are examining my accounts! But you know very
well, Martine, that I, too, have my savings laid by.â
He alluded to the money which he still received occasionally from his
patients, and which he threw into a drawer of his writing-desk. For more
than sixteen years past he had put into this drawer every year about
four thousand francs, which would have amounted to a little fortune
if he had not taken from it, from day to day, without counting them,
considerable sums for his experiments and his whims. All the money for
the presents came out of this drawer, which he now opened continually.
He thought that it would never be empty; he had been so accustomed to
take from it whatever he required that it had never occurred to him to
fear that he would ever come to the bottom of it.
âOne may very well have a little enjoyment out of oneâs savings,â he
said gayly. âSince it is you who go to the notaryâs, Martine, you are
not ignorant that I have my income apart.â
Then she said, with the colorless voice of the miser who is haunted by
the dread of an impending disaster:
âAnd what would you do if you hadnât it?â
Pascal looked at her in astonishment, and contented himself with
answering with a shrug, for the possibility of such a misfortune had
never even entered his mind. He fancied that avarice was turning her
brain, and he laughed over the incident that evening with Clotilde.
In Plassans, too, the presents were the cause of endless gossip. The
rumor of what was going on at La Souleiade, this strange and sudden
passion, had spread, no one could tell how, by that force of expansion
which sustains curiosity, always on the alert in small towns. The
servant certainly had not spoken, but her air was perhaps sufficient;
words perhaps had dropped from her involuntarily; the lovers might have
been watched over the walls. And then came the buying of the presents,
confirming the reports and exaggerating them. When the doctor, in the
early morning, scoured the streets and visited the jewelerâs and the
dressmakerâs, eyes spied him from the windows, his smallest purchases
were watched, all the town knew in the evening that he had given her a
silk bonnet, a bracelet set with sapphires. And all this was turned into
a scandal. This uncle in love with his niece, committing a young manâs
follies for her, adorning her like a holy Virgin. The most extraordinary
stories began to circulate, and people pointed to La Souleiade as they
passed by.
But old Mme. Rougon was, of all persons, the most bitterly indignant.
She had ceased going to her sonâs house when she learned that Clotildeâs
marriage with Dr. Ramond had been broken off. They had made sport of
her. They did nothing to please her, and she wished to show how deep her
displeasure was. Then a full month after the rupture, during which she
had understood nothing of the pitying looks, the discreet condolences,
the vague smiles which met her everywhere, she learned everything with a
suddenness that stunned her. She, who, at the time of Pascalâs illness,
in her mortification at the idea of again becoming the talk of the town
through that ugly story, had raised such a storm! It was far worse
this time; the height of scandal, a love affair for people to regale
themselves with. The Rougon legend was again in peril; her unhappy son
was decidedly doing his best to find some way to destroy the family
glory won with so much difficulty. So that in her anger she, who had
made herself the guardian of this glory, resolving to purify the legend
by every means in her power, put on her hat one morning and hurried to
La Souleiade with the youthful vivacity of her eighty years.
Pascal, whom the rupture with his mother enchanted, was fortunately
not at home, having gone out an hour before to look for a silver buckle
which he had thought of for a belt. And Felicite fell upon Clotilde
as the latter was finishing her toilet, her arms bare, her hair loose,
looking as fresh and smiling as a rose.
The first shock was rude. The old lady unburdened her mind, grew
indignant, spoke of the scandal they were giving. Suddenly her anger
vanished. She looked at the young girl, and she thought her adorable. In
her heart she was not surprised at what was going on. She laughed at it,
all she desired was that it should end in a correct fashion, so as to
silence evil tongues. And she cried with a conciliating air:
âGet married then! Why do you not get married?â
Clotilde remained silent for a moment, surprised. She had not thought of
marriage. Then she smiled again.
âNo doubt we will get married, grandmother. But later on, there is no
hurry.â
Old Mme. Rougon went away, obliged to be satisfied with this vague
promise.
It was at this time that Pascal and Clotilde ceased to seclude
themselves. Not through any spirit of bravado, not because they wished
to answer ugly rumors by making a display of their happiness, but as a
natural amplification of their joy; their love had slowly acquired the
need of expansion and of space, at first beyond the house, then beyond
the garden, into the town, as far as the whole vast horizon. It filled
everything; it took in the whole world.
The doctor then tranquilly resumed his visits, and he took the young
girl with him. They walked together along the promenades, along the
streets, she on his arm, in a light gown, with flowers in her hat, he
buttoned up in his coat with his broad-brimmed hat. He was all white;
she all blond. They walked with their heads high, erect and smiling,
radiating such happiness that they seemed to walk in a halo. At first
the excitement was extraordinary. The shopkeepers came and stood at
their doors, the women leaned out of the windows, the passers-by stopped
to look after them. People whispered and laughed and pointed to them.
Then they were so handsome; he superb and triumphant, she so youthful,
so submissive, and so proud, that an involuntary indulgence gradually
gained on every one. People could not help defending them and loving
them, and they ended by smiling on them in a delightful contagion of
tenderness. A charm emanated from them which brought back all hearts to
them. The new town, with its _bourgeois_ population of functionaries
and townspeople who had grown wealthy, was the last conquest. But the
Quartier St. Marc, in spite of its austerity, showed itself at once kind
and discreetly tolerant when they walked along its deserted grass-worn
sidewalks, beside the antique houses, now closed and silent, which
exhaled the evaporated perfume of the loves of other days. But it was
the old quarter, more especially, that promptly received them with
cordiality, this quarter of which the common people, instinctively
touched, felt the grace of the legend, the profound myth of the couple,
the beautiful young girl supporting the royal and rejuvenated master.
The doctor was adored here for his goodness, and his companion quickly
became popular, and was greeted with tokens of admiration and approval
as soon as she appeared. They, meantime, if they had seemed ignorant
of the former hostility, now divined easily the forgiveness and the
indulgent tenderness which surrounded them, and this made them more
beautiful; their happiness charmed the entire town.
One afternoon, as Pascal and Clotilde turned the corner of the Rue de la
Banne, they perceived Dr. Ramond on the opposite side of the street. It
had chanced that they had learned the day before that he had asked and
had obtained the hand of Mlle. Leveque, the advocateâs daughter. It was
certainly the most sensible course he could have taken, for his business
interests made it advisable that he should marry, and the young girl,
who was very pretty and very rich, loved him. He, too, would certainly
love her in time. Therefore Clotilde joyfully smiled her congratulations
to him as a sincere friend. Pascal saluted him with an affectionate
gesture. For a moment Ramond, a little moved by the meeting, stood
perplexed. His first impulse seemed to have been to cross over to them.
But a feeling of delicacy must have prevented him, the thought that it
would be brutal to interrupt their dream, to break in upon this solitude
_a deux_, in which they moved, even amid the elbowings of the street.
And he contented himself with a friendly salutation, a smile in which he
forgave them their happiness. This was very pleasant for all three.
At this time Clotilde amused herself for several days by painting
a large pastel representing the tender scene of old King David and
Abishag, the young Shunammite. It was a dream picture, one of those
fantastic compositions into which her other self, her romantic self, put
her love of the mysterious. Against a background of flowers thrown on
the canvas, flowers that looked like a shower of stars, of barbaric
richness, the old king stood facing the spectator, his hand resting on
the bare shoulder of Abishag. He was attired sumptuously in a robe heavy
with precious stones, that fell in straight folds, and he wore the royal
fillet on his snowy locks. But she was more sumptuous still, with only
the lilylike satin of her skin, her tall, slender figure, her round,
slender throat, her supple arms, divinely graceful. He reigned over, he
leaned, as a powerful and beloved master, on this subject, chosen from
among all others, so proud of having been chosen, so rejoiced to give to
her king the rejuvenating gift of her youth. All her pure and triumphant
beauty expressed the serenity of her submission, the tranquillity with
which she gave herself, before the assembled people, in the full light
of day. And he was very great and she was very fair, and there radiated
from both a starry radiance.
Up to the last moment Clotilde had left the faces of the two figures
vaguely outlined in a sort of mist. Pascal, standing behind her, jested
with her to hide his emotion, for he fancied he divined her intention.
And it was as he thought; she finished the faces with a few strokes of
the crayon--old King David was he, and she was Abishag, the Shunammite.
But they were enveloped in a dreamlike brightness, it was themselves
deified; the one with hair all white, the other with hair all blond,
covering them like an imperial mantle, with features lengthened by
ecstasy, exalted to the bliss of angels, with the glance and the smile
of immortal youth.
âAh, dear!â he cried, âyou have made us too beautiful; you have wandered
off again to dreamland--yes, as in the days, do you remember, when I
used to scold you for putting there all the fantastic flowers of the
Unknown?â
And he pointed to the walls, on which bloomed the fantastic _parterre_
of the old pastels, flowers not of the earth, grown in the soil of
paradise.
But she protested gayly.
âToo beautiful? We could not be too beautiful! I assure you it is thus
that I picture us to myself, thus that I see us; and thus it is that we
are. There! see if it is not the pure reality.â
She took the old fifteenth century Bible which was beside her, and
showed him the simple wood engraving.
âYou see it is exactly the same.â
He smiled gently at this tranquil and extraordinary affirmation.
âOh, you laugh, you look only at the details of the picture. It is
the spirit which it is necessary to penetrate. And look at the other
engravings, it is the same theme in all--Abraham and Hagar, Ruth and
Boaz. And you see they are all handsome and happy.â
Then they ceased to laugh, leaning over the old Bible whose pages she
turned with her white fingers, he standing behind her, his white beard
mingling with her blond, youthful tresses.
Suddenly he whispered to her softly:
âBut you, so young, do you never regret that you have chosen me--me, who
am so old, as old as the world?â
She gave a start of surprise, and turning round looked at him.
âYou old! No, you are young, younger than I!â
And she laughed so joyously that he, too, could not help smiling. But he
insisted a little tremulously:
âYou do not answer me. Do you not sometimes desire a younger lover, you
who are so youthful?â
She put up her lips and kissed him, saying in a low voice:
âI have but one desire, to be loved--loved as you love me, above and
beyond everything.â
The day on which Martine saw the pastel nailed to the wall, she looked
at it a moment in silence, then she made the sign of the cross, but
whether it was because she had seen God or the devil, no one could
say. A few days before Easter she had asked Clotilde if she would
not accompany her to church, and the latter having made a sign in the
negative, she departed for an instant from the deferential silence which
she now habitually maintained. Of all the new things which
astonished her in the house, what most astonished her was the sudden
irreligiousness of her young mistress. So she allowed herself to resume
her former tone of remonstrance, and to scold her as she used to do when
she was a little girl and refused to say her prayers. âHad she no longer
the fear of the Lord before her, then? Did she no longer tremble at the
idea of going to hell, to burn there forever?â
Clotilde could not suppress a smile.
âOh, hell! you know that it has never troubled me a great deal. But you
are mistaken if you think I am no longer religious. If I have left off
going to church it is because I perform my devotions elsewhere, that is
all.â
Martine looked at her, open-mouthed, not comprehending her. It was all
over; mademoiselle was indeed lost. And she never again asked her to
accompany her to St. Saturnin. But her own devotion increased until it
at last became a mania. She was no longer to be met, as before, with the
eternal stocking in her hand which she knitted even when walking, when
not occupied in her household duties. Whenever she had a moment to
spare, she ran to church and remained there, repeating endless prayers.
One day when old Mme. Rougon, always on the alert, found her behind a
pillar, an hour after she had seen her there before, Martine excused
herself, blushing like a servant who had been caught idling, saying:
âI was praying for monsieur.â
Meanwhile Pascal and Clotilde enlarged still more their domain, taking
longer and longer walks every day, extending them now outside the
town into the open country. One afternoon, as they were going to La
Seguiranne, they were deeply moved, passing by the melancholy fields
where the enchanted gardens of Le Paradou had formerly extended. The
vision of Albine rose before them. Pascal saw her again blooming like
the spring, in the rejuvenation which this living flower had brought
him too, feeling the pressure of this pure arm against his heart. Never
could he have believed, he who had already thought himself very old when
he used to enter this garden to give a smile to the little fairy within,
that she would have been dead for years when life, the good mother,
should bestow upon him the gift of so fresh a spring, sweetening his
declining years. And Clotilde, having felt the vision rise before them,
lifted up her face to his in a renewed longing for tenderness. She was
Albine, the eternal lover. He kissed her on the lips, and though no word
had been uttered, the level fields sown with corn and oats, where Le
Paradou had once rolled its billows of luxuriant verdure, thrilled in
sympathy.
Pascal and Clotilde were now walking along the dusty road, through the
bare and arid country. They loved this sun-scorched land, these fields
thinly planted with puny almond trees and dwarf olives, these stretches
of bare hills dotted with country houses, that showed on them like pale
patches accentuated by the dark bars of the secular cypresses. It was
like an antique landscape, one of those classic landscapes represented
in the paintings of the old schools, with harsh coloring and well
balanced and majestic lines. All the ardent sunshine of successive
summers that had parched this land flowed through their veins, and lent
them a new beauty and animation, as they walked under the sky forever
blue, glowing with the clear flame of eternal love. She, protected from
the sun by her straw hat, bloomed and luxuriated in this bath of light
like a tropical flower, while he, in his renewed youth, felt the burning
sap of the soil ascend into his veins in a flood of virile joy.
This walk to La Seguiranne had been an idea of the doctorâs, who had
learned through Aunt Dieudonne of the approaching marriage of Sophie to
a young miller of the neighborhood; and he desired to see if every
one was well and happy in this retired corner. All at once they were
refreshed by a delightful coolness as they entered the avenue of tall
green oaks. On either side the springs, the mothers of these giant shade
trees, flowed on in their eternal course. And when they reached the
house of the shrew they came, as chance would have it, upon the two
lovers, Sophie and her miller, kissing each other beside the well; for
the girlâs aunt had just gone down to the lavatory behind the willows
of the Viorne. Confused, the couple stood in blushing silence. But the
doctor and his companion laughed indulgently, and the lovers, reassured,
told them that the marriage was set for St. Johnâs Day, which was a long
way off, to be sure, but which would come all the same. Sophie, saved
from the hereditary malady, had improved in health and beauty, and was
growing as strong as one of the trees that stood with their feet in the
moist grass beside the springs, and their heads bare to the sunshine.
Ah, the vast, glowing sky, what life it breathed into all created
things! She had but one grief, and tears came to her eyes when she spoke
of her brother Valentin, who perhaps would not live through the week.
She had had news of him the day before; he was past hope. And the doctor
was obliged to prevaricate a little to console her, for he himself
expected hourly the inevitable termination. When he and his companion
left La Seguiranne they returned slowly to Plassans, touched by this
happy, healthy love saddened by the chill of death.
In the old quarter a woman whom Pascal was attending informed him that
Valentin had just died. Two of the neighbors were obliged to take away
La Guiraude, who, half-crazed, clung, shrieking, to her sonâs body. The
doctor entered the house, leaving Clotilde outside. At last, they again
took their way to La Souleiade in silence. Since Pascal had resumed
his visits he seemed to make them only through professional duty; he no
longer became enthusiastic about the miracles wrought by his treatment.
But as far as Valentinâs death was concerned, he was surprised that
it had not occurred before; he was convinced that he had prolonged
the patientâs life for at least a year. In spite of the extraordinary
results which he had obtained at first, he knew well that death was the
inevitable end. That he had held it in check for months ought then to
have consoled him and soothed his remorse, still unassuaged, for having
involuntarily caused the death of Lafouasse, a few weeks sooner than it
would otherwise have occurred. But this did not seem to be the case,
and his brow was knitted in a frown as they returned to their beloved
solitude. But there a new emotion awaited him; sitting under the plane
trees, whither Martine had sent him, he saw Sarteur, the hatter,
the inmate of the Tulettes whom he had been so long treating by his
hypodermic injections, and the experiment so zealously continued seemed
to have succeeded. The injections of nerve substance had evidently given
strength to his will, since the madman was here, having left the asylum
that morning, declaring that he no longer had any attacks, that he was
entirely cured of the homicidal mania that impelled him to throw himself
upon any passer-by to strangle him. The doctor looked at him as he
spoke. He was a small dark man, with a retreating forehead and aquiline
features, with one cheek perceptibly larger than the other. He was
perfectly quiet and rational, and filled with so lively a gratitude that
he kissed his saviourâs hands. The doctor could not help being greatly
affected by all this, and he dismissed the man kindly, advising him to
return to his life of labor, which was the best hygiene, physical and
moral. Then he recovered his calmness and sat down to table, talking
gaily of other matters.
Clotilde looked at him with astonishment and even with a little
indignation.
âWhat is the matter, master?â she said. âYou are no longer satisfied
with yourself.â
âOh, with myself I am never satisfied!â he answered jestingly. âAnd with
medicine, you know--it is according to the day.â
It was on this night that they had their first quarrel. She was angry
with him because he no longer had any pride in his profession. She
returned to her complaint of the afternoon, reproaching him for not
taking more credit to himself for the cure of Sarteur, and even for the
prolongation of Valentinâs life. It was she who now had a passion for
his fame. She reminded him of his cures; had he not cured himself? Could
he deny the efficacy of his treatment? A thrill ran through him as
he recalled the great dream which he had once cherished--to combat
debility, the sole cause of disease; to cure suffering humanity; to make
a higher, and healthy humanity; to hasten the coming of happiness, the
future kingdom of perfection and felicity, by intervening and giving
health to all! And he possessed the liquor of life, the universal
panacea which opened up this immense hope!
Pascal was silent for a moment. Then he murmured:
âIt is true. I cured myself, I have cured others, and I still think that
my injections are efficacious in many cases. I do not deny medicine.
Remorse for a deplorable accident, like that of Lafouasse, does not
render me unjust. Besides, work has been my passion, it is in work that
I have up to this time spent my energies; it was in wishing to prove to
myself the possibility of making decrepit humanity one day strong and
intelligent that I came near dying lately. Yes, a dream, a beautiful
dream!â
âNo, no! a reality, the reality of your genius, master.â
Then, lowering his voice almost to a whisper, he breathed this
confession:
âListen, I am going to say to you what I would say to no one else in
the world, what I would not say to myself aloud. To correct nature, to
interfere, in order to modify it and thwart it in its purpose, is this
a laudable task? To cure the individual, to retard his death, for his
personal pleasure, to prolong his existence, doubtless to the injury of
the species, is not this to defeat the aims of nature? And have we the
right to desire a stronger, a healthier humanity, modeled after our idea
of health and strength? What have we to do in the matter? Why should we
interfere in this work of life, neither the means nor the end of which
are known to us? Perhaps everything is as it ought to be. Perhaps we
should risk killing love, genius, life itself. Remember, I make the
confession to you alone; but doubt has taken possession of me, I tremble
at the thought of my twentieth century alchemy. I have come to believe
that it is greater and wiser to allow evolution to take its course.â
He paused; then he added so softly that she could scarcely hear him:
âDo you know that instead of nerve-substance I often use only water with
my patients. You no longer hear me grinding for days at a time. I told
you that I had some of the liquor in reserve. Water soothes them,
this is no doubt simply a mechanical effect. Ah! to soothe, to prevent
suffering--that indeed I still desire! It is perhaps my greatest
weakness, but I cannot bear to see any one suffer. Suffering puts me
beside myself, it seems a monstrous and useless cruelty of nature. I
practise now only to prevent suffering.â
âThen, master,â she asked, in the same indistinct murmur, âif you no
longer desire to cure, do you still think everything must be told? For
the frightful necessity of displaying the wounds of humanity had no
other excuse than the hope of curing them.â
âYes, yes, it is necessary to know, in every case, and to conceal
nothing; to tell everything regarding things and individuals. Happiness
is no longer possible in ignorance; certainty alone makes life tranquil.
When people know more they will doubtless accept everything. Do you not
comprehend that to desire to cure everything, to regenerate everything
is a false ambition inspired by our egotism, a revolt against life,
which we declare to be bad, because we judge it from the point of view
of self-interest? I know that I am more tranquil, that my intellect has
broadened and deepened ever since I have held evolution in respect. It
is my love of life which triumphs, even to the extent of not questioning
its purpose, to the extent of confiding absolutely in it, of losing
myself in it, without wishing to remake it according to my own
conception of good and evil. Life alone is sovereign, life alone knows
its aim and its end. I can only try to know it in order to live it as it
should be lived. And this I have understood only since I have possessed
your love. Before I possessed it I sought the truth elsewhere, I
struggled with the fixed idea of saving the world. You have come, and
life is full; the world is saved every hour by love, by the immense and
incessant labor of all that live and love throughout space. Impeccable
life, omnipotent life, immortal life!â
They continued to talk together in low tones for some time longer,
planning an idyllic life, a calm and healthful existence in the country.
It was in this simple prescription of an invigorating environment that
the experiments of the physician ended. He exclaimed against cities.
People could be well and happy only in the country, in the sunshine, on
the condition of renouncing money, ambition, even the proud excesses of
intellectual labor. They should do nothing but live and love, cultivate
the soil, and bring up their children.
IX.
Dr. Pascal then resumed his professional visits in the town and the
surrounding country. And he was generally accompanied by Clotilde,
who went with him into the houses of the poor, where she, too, brought
health and cheerfulness.
But, as he had one night confessed to her in secret, his visits were now
only visits of relief and consolation. If he had before practised with
repugnance it was because he had felt how vain was medical science.
Empiricism disheartened him. From the moment that medicine ceased to be
an experimental science and became an art, he was filled with disquiet
at the thought of the infinite variety of diseases and of their
remedies, according to the constitution of the patient. Treatment
changed with every new hypothesis; how many people, then, must the
methods now abandoned have killed! The perspicacity of the physician
became everything, the healer was only a happily endowed diviner,
himself groping in the dark and effecting cures through his fortunate
endowment. And this explained why he had given up his patients almost
altogether, after a dozen years of practise, to devote himself entirely
to study. Then, when his great labors on heredity had restored to him
for a time the hope of intervening and curing disease by his hypodermic
injections, he had become again enthusiastic, until the day when his
faith in life, after having impelled him, to aid its action in this way,
by restoring the vital forces, became still broader and gave him the
higher conviction that life was self-sufficing, that it was the only
giver of health and strength, in spite of everything. And he continued
to visit, with his tranquil smile, only those of his patients who
clamored for him loudly, and who found themselves miraculously relieved
when he injected into them only pure water.
Clotilde now sometimes allowed herself to jest about these hypodermic
injections. She was still at heart, however, a fervent worshiper of his
skill; and she said jestingly that if he performed miracles as he did it
was because he had in himself the godlike power to do so. Then he would
reply jestingly, attributing to her the efficacy of their common visits,
saying that he cured no one now when she was absent, that it was she
who brought the breath of life, the unknown and necessary force from the
Beyond. So that the rich people, the _bourgeois_, whose houses she did
not enter, continued to groan without his being able to relieve them.
And this affectionate dispute diverted them; they set out each time as
if for new discoveries, they exchanged glances of kindly intelligence
with the sick. Ah, this wretched suffering which revolted them, and
which was now all they went to combat; how happy they were when they
thought it vanquished! They were divinely recompensed when they saw the
cold sweats disappear, the moaning lips become stilled, the deathlike
faces recover animation. It was assuredly the love which they brought to
this humble, suffering humanity that produced the alleviation.
âTo die is nothing; that is in the natural order of things,â Pascal
would often say. âBut why suffer? It is cruel and unnecessary!â
One afternoon the doctor was going with the young girl to the little
village of Sainte-Marthe to see a patient, and at the station, for they
were going by train, so as to spare Bonhomme, they had a reencounter.
The train which they were waiting for was from the Tulettes.
Sainte-Marthe was the first station in the opposite direction, going to
Marseilles. When the train arrived, they hurried on board and, opening
the door of a compartment which they thought empty, they saw old Mme.
Rougon about to leave it. She did not speak to them, but passing them
by, sprang down quickly in spite of her age, and walked away with a
stiff and haughty air.
âIt is the 1st of July,â said Clotilde when the train had started.
âGrandmother is returning from the Tulettes, after making her monthly
visit to Aunt Dide. Did you see the glance she cast at me?â
Pascal was at heart glad of the quarrel with his mother, which freed him
from the continual annoyance of her visits.
âBah!â he said simply, âwhen people cannot agree it is better for them
not to see each other.â
But the young girl remained troubled and thoughtful. After a few moments
she said in an undertone:
âI thought her changed--looking paler. And did you notice? she who is
usually so carefully dressed had only one glove on--a yellow glove, on
the right hand. I donât know why it was, but she made me feel sick at
heart.â
Pascal, who was also disturbed, made a vague gesture. His mother would
no doubt grow old at last, like everybody else. But she was very active,
very full of fire still. She was thinking, he said, of bequeathing
her fortune to the town of Plassans, to build a house of refuge, which
should bear the name of Rougon. Both had recovered their gaiety when he
cried suddenly:
âWhy, it is to-morrow that you and I are to go to the Tulettes to see
our patients. And you know that I promised to take Charles to Uncle
Macquartâs.â
Felicite was in fact returning from the Tulettes, where she went
regularly on the first of every month to inquire after Aunt Dide. For
many years past she had taken a keen interest in the madwomanâs health,
amazed to see her lasting so long, and furious with her for persisting
in living so far beyond the common term of life, until she had become a
very prodigy of longevity. What a relief, the fine morning on which
they should put under ground this troublesome witness of the past, this
specter of expiation and of waiting, who brought living before her the
abominations of the family! When so many others had been taken she, who
was demented and who had only a spark of life left in her eyes, seemed
forgotten. On this day she had found her as usual, skeleton-like, stiff
and erect in her armchair. As the keeper said, there was now no reason
why she should ever die. She was a hundred and five years old.
When she left the asylum Felicite was furious. She thought of Uncle
Macquart. Another who troubled her, who persisted in living with
exasperating obstinacy! Although he was only eighty-four years old,
three years older than herself, she thought him ridiculously aged, past
the allotted term of life. And a man who led so dissipated a life, who
had gone to bed dead drunk every night for the last sixty years!
The good and the sober were taken away; he flourished in spite of
everything, blooming with health and gaiety. In days past, just after
he had settled at the Tulettes, she had made him presents of wines,
liqueurs and brandy, in the unavowed hope of ridding the family of a
fellow who was really disreputable, and from whom they had nothing to
expect but annoyance and shame. But she had soon perceived that all this
liquor served, on the contrary, to keep up his health and spirits and
his sarcastic humor, and she had left off making him presents, seeing
that he throve on what she had hoped would prove a poison to him. She
had cherished a deadly hatred toward him since then. She would have
killed him if she had dared, every time she saw him, standing firmly on
his drunken legs, and laughing at her to her face, knowing well that she
was watching for his death, and triumphant because he did not give her
the pleasure of burying with him all the old dirty linen of the family,
the blood and mud of the two conquests of Plassans.
âYou see, Felicite,â he would often say to her with his air of wicked
mockery, âI am here to take care of the old mother, and the day on
which we both make up our minds to die it would be through compliment
to you--yes, simply to spare you the trouble of running to see us so
good-naturedly, in this way, every month.â
Generally she did not now give herself the disappointment of going to
Macquartâs, but inquired for him at the asylum. But on this occasion,
having learned there that he was passing through an extraordinary attack
of drunkenness, not having drawn a sober breath for a fortnight, and
so intoxicated that he was probably unable to leave the house, she was
seized with the curiosity to learn for herself what his condition really
was. And as she was going back to the station, she went out of her way
in order to stop at Macquartâs house.
The day was superb--a warm and brilliant summer day. On either side of
the path which she had taken, she saw the fields that she had given him
in former days--all this fertile land, the price of his secrecy and his
good behavior. Before her appeared the house, with its pink tiles and
its bright yellow walls, looking gay in the sunshine. Under the ancient
mulberry trees on the terrace she enjoyed the delightful coolness and
the beautiful view. What a pleasant and safe retreat, what a happy
solitude was this for an old man to end in joy and peace a long and
well-spent life!
But she did not see him, she did not hear him. The silence was profound.
The only sound to be heard was the humming of the bees circling around
the tall marshmallows. And on the terrace there was nothing to be seen
but a little yellow dog, stretched at full length on the bare ground,
seeking the coolness of the shade. He raised his head growling, about to
bark, but, recognizing the visitor, he lay down again quietly.
Then, in this peaceful and sunny solitude she was seized with a strange
chill, and she called:
âMacquart! Macquart!â
The door of the house under the mulberry trees stood wide open. But she
did not dare to go in; this empty house with its wide open door gave her
a vague uneasiness. And she called again:
âMacquart! Macquart!â
Not a sound, not a breath. Profound silence reigned again, but the
humming of the bees circling around the tall marshmallows sounded louder
than before.
At last Felicite, ashamed of her fears, summoned courage to enter. The
door on the left of the hall, opening into the kitchen, where Uncle
Macquart generally sat, was closed. She pushed it open, but she could
distinguish nothing at first, as the blinds had been closed, probably
in order to shut out the heat. Her first sensation was one of choking,
caused by an overpowering odor of alcohol which filled the room; every
article of furniture seemed to exude this odor, the whole house was
impregnated with it. At last, when her eyes had become accustomed to the
semi-obscurity, she perceived Macquart. He was seated at the table,
on which were a glass and a bottle of spirits of thirty-six degrees,
completely empty. Settled in his chair, he was sleeping profoundly, dead
drunk. This spectacle revived her anger and contempt.
âCome, Macquart,â she cried, âis it not vile and senseless to put oneâs
self in such a state! Wake up, I say, this is shameful!â
His sleep was so profound that she could not even hear him breathing. In
vain she raised her voice, and slapped him smartly on the hands.
âMacquart! Macquart! Macquart! Ah, faugh! You are disgusting, my dear!â
Then she left him, troubling herself no further about him, and walked
around the room, evidently seeking something. Coming down the dusky road
from the asylum she had been seized with a consuming thirst, and she
wished to get a glass of water. Her gloves embarrassed her, and she took
them off and put them on a corner of the table. Then she succeeded in
finding the jug, and she washed a glass and filled it to the brim, and
was about to empty it when she saw an extraordinary sight--a sight which
agitated her so greatly that she set the glass down again beside her
gloves, without drinking.
By degrees she had begun to see objects more clearly in the room, which
was lighted dimly by a few stray sunbeams that filtered through the
cracks of the old shutters. She now saw Uncle Macquart distinctly,
neatly dressed in a blue cloth suit, as usual, and on his head the
eternal fur cap which he wore from one yearâs end to the other. He had
grown stout during the last five or six years, and he looked like a
veritable mountain of flesh overlaid with rolls of fat. And she noticed
that he must have fallen asleep while smoking, for his pipe--a short
black pipe--had fallen into his lap. Then she stood still, stupefied
with amazement--the burning tobacco had been scattered in the fall, and
the cloth of the trousers had caught fire, and through a hole in the
stuff, as large already as a hundred-sous piece, she saw the bare thigh,
whence issued a little blue flame.
At first Felicite had thought that it was linen--the drawers or the
shirt--that was burning. But soon doubt was no longer possible, she saw
distinctly the bare flesh and the little blue flame issuing from it,
lightly dancing, like a flame wandering over the surface of a vessel of
lighted alcohol. It was as yet scarcely higher than the flame of a night
light, pale and soft, and so unstable that the slightest breath of air
caused it to change its place. But it increased and spread rapidly, and
the skin cracked and the fat began to melt.
An involuntary cry escaped from Feliciteâs throat.
âMacquart! Macquart!â
But still he did not stir. His insensibility must have been complete;
intoxication must have produced a sort of coma, in which there was an
absolute paralysis of sensation, for he was living, his breast could be
seen rising and falling, in slow and even respiration.
âMacquart! Macquart!â
Now the fat was running through the cracks of the skin, feeding the
flame, which was invading the abdomen. And Felicite comprehended vaguely
that Uncle Macquart was burning before her like a sponge soaked with
brandy. He had, indeed, been saturated with it for years past, and
of the strongest and most inflammable kind. He would no doubt soon be
blazing from head to foot, like a bowl of punch.
Then she ceased to try to awaken him, since he was sleeping so soundly.
For a full minute she had the courage to look at him, awe-stricken,
but gradually coming to a determination. Her hands, however, began
to tremble, with a little shiver which she could not control. She was
choking, and taking up the glass of water again with both hands, she
emptied it at a draught. And she was going away on tiptoe, when she
remembered her gloves. She went back, groped for them anxiously on the
table and, as she thought, picked them both up. Then she left the room,
closing the door behind her carefully, and as gently as if she were
afraid of disturbing some one.
When she found herself once more on the terrace, in the cheerful
sunshine and the pure air, in face of the vast horizon bathed in light,
she heaved a sigh of relief. The country was deserted; no one could have
seen her entering or leaving the house. Only the yellow dog was still
stretched there, and he did not even deign to look up. And she went
away with her quick, short step, her youthful figure lightly swaying. A
hundred steps away, an irresistible impulse compelled her to turn round
to give a last look at the house, so tranquil and so cheerful on the
hillside, in the declining light of the beautiful day.
Only when she was in the train and went to put on her gloves did she
perceive that one of them was missing. But she supposed that it had
fallen on the platform at the station as she was getting into the car.
She believed herself to be quite calm, but she remained with one hand
gloved and one hand bare, which, with her, could only be the result of
great agitation.
On the following day Pascal and Clotilde took the three oâclock train to
go to the Tulettes. The mother of Charles, the harness-makerâs wife,
had brought the boy to them, as they had offered to take him to Uncle
Macquartâs, where he was to remain for the rest of the week. Fresh
quarrels had disturbed the peace of the household, the husband having
resolved to tolerate no longer in his house another manâs child, that
do-nothing, imbecile princeâs son. As it was Grandmother Rougon who had
dressed him, he was, indeed, dressed on this day, again, in black velvet
trimmed with gold braid, like a young lord, a page of former times going
to court. And during the quarter of an hour which the journey lasted,
Clotilde amused herself in the compartment, in which they were alone,
by taking off his cap and smoothing his beautiful blond locks, his
royal hair that fell in curls over his shoulders. She had a ring on her
finger, and as she passed her hand over his neck she was startled to
perceive that her caress had left behind it a trace of blood. One
could not touch the boyâs skin without the red dew exuding from it;
the tissues had become so lax through extreme degeneration that the
slightest scratch brought on a hemorrhage. The doctor became at once
uneasy, and asked him if he still bled at the nose as frequently as
formerly. Charles hardly knew what to answer; first saying no, then,
recollecting himself, he said that he had bled a great deal the other
day. He seemed, indeed, weaker; he grew more childish as he grew older;
his intelligence, which had never developed, had become clouded. This
tall boy of fifteen, so beautiful, so girlish-looking, with the color of
a flower that had grown in the shade, did not look ten.
At the Tulettes Pascal decided that they would first take the boy to
Uncle Macquartâs. They ascended the steep road. In the distance the
little house looked gay in the sunshine, as it had looked on the day
before, with its yellow walls and its green mulberry trees extending
their twisted branches and covering the terrace with a thick, leafy
roof. A delightful sense of peace pervaded this solitary spot, this
sageâs retreat, where the only sound to be heard was the humming of the
bees, circling round the tall marshmallows.
âAh, that rascal of an uncle!â said Pascal, smiling, âhow I envy him!â
But he was surprised not to have already seen him standing at the edge
of the terrace. And as Charles had run off dragging Clotilde with him to
see the rabbits, as he said, the doctor continued the ascent alone, and
was astonished when he reached the top to see no one. The blinds were
closed, the hill door yawned wide open. Only the yellow dog was at the
threshold, his legs stiff, his hair bristling, howling with a low and
continuous moan. When he saw the visitor, whom he no doubt recognized,
approaching, he stopped howling for an instant and went and stood
further off, then he began again to whine softly.
Pascal, filled with apprehension, could not keep back the uneasy cry
that rose to his lips:
âMacquart! Macquart!â
No one answered; a deathlike silence reigned over the house, with its
door yawning wide open, like the mouth of a cavern. The dog continued to
howl.
Then Pascal grew impatient, and cried more loudly.
âMacquart! Macquart!â
There was not a stir; the bees hummed, the sky looked down serenely on
the peaceful scene. Then he hesitated no longer. Perhaps Macquart was
asleep. But the instant he pushed open the door of the kitchen on the
left of the hall, a horrible odor escaped from it, an odor of burned
flesh and bones. When he entered the room he could hardly breathe, so
filled was it by a thick vapor, a stagnant and nauseous cloud, which
choked and blinded him. The sunbeams that filtered through the cracks
made only a dim light. He hurried to the fireplace, thinking that
perhaps there had been a fire, but the fireplace was empty, and the
articles of furniture around appeared to be uninjured. Bewildered, and
feeling himself growing faint in the poisoned atmosphere, he ran to the
window and threw the shutters wide open. A flood of light entered.
Then the scene presented to the doctorâs view filled him with amazement.
Everything was in its place; the glass and the empty bottle of spirits
were on the table; only the chair in which Uncle Macquart must have been
sitting bore traces of fire, the front legs were blackened and the straw
was partially consumed. What had become of Macquart? Where could he
have disappeared? In front of the chair, on the brick floor, which was
saturated with grease, there was a little heap of ashes, beside which
lay the pipe--a black pipe, which had not even broken in falling. All of
Uncle Macquart was there, in this handful of fine ashes; and he was in
the red cloud, also, which floated through the open window; in the layer
of soot which carpeted the entire kitchen; the horrible grease of burnt
flesh, enveloping everything, sticky and foul to the touch.
It was the finest case of spontaneous combustion physician had ever
seen. The doctor had, indeed, read in medical papers of surprising
cases, among others that of a shoemakerâs wife, a drunken woman who had
fallen asleep over her foot warmer, and of whom they had found only
a hand and foot. He had, until now, put little faith in these cases,
unwilling to admit, like the ancients, that a body impregnated
with alcohol could disengage an unknown gas, capable of taking fire
spontaneously and consuming the flesh and the bones. But he denied the
truth of them no longer; besides, everything became clear to him as
he reconstructed the scene--the coma of drunkenness producing absolute
insensibility; the pipe falling on the clothes, which had taken fire;
the flesh, saturated with liquor, burning and cracking; the fat melting,
part of it running over the ground and part of it aiding the combustion,
and all, at last--muscles, organs, and bones--consumed in a general
blaze. Uncle Macquart was all there, with his blue cloth suit, and his
fur cap, which he wore from one yearâs end to the other. Doubtless, as
soon as he had begun to burn like a bonfire he had fallen forward, which
would account for the chair being only blackened; and nothing of him was
left, not a bone, not a tooth, not a nail, nothing but this little heap
of gray dust which the draught of air from the door threatened at every
moment to sweep away.
Clotilde had meanwhile entered, Charles remaining outside, his attention
attracted by the continued howling of the dog.
âGood Heavens, what a smell!â she cried. âWhat is the matter?â
When Pascal explained to her the extraordinary catastrophe that had
taken place, she shuddered. She took up the bottle to examine it, but
she put it down again with horror, feeling it moist and sticky with
Uncle Macquartâs flesh. Nothing could be touched, the smallest objects
were coated, as it were, with this yellowish grease which stuck to the
hands.
A shudder of mingled awe and disgust passed through her, and she burst
into tears, faltering:
âWhat a sad death! What a horrible death!â
Pascal had recovered from his first shock, and he was almost smiling.
âWhy horrible? He was eighty-four years old; he did not suffer. As for
me, I think it a superb death for that old rascal of an uncle, who, it
may be now said, did not lead a very exemplary life. You remember his
envelope; he had some very terrible and vile things upon his conscience,
which did not prevent him, however, from settling down later and growing
old, surrounded by every comfort, like an old humbug, receiving the
recompense of virtues which he did not possess. And here he lies like
the prince of drunkards, burning up of himself, consumed on the burning
funeral pile of his own body!â
And the doctor waved his hand in admiration.
âJust think of it. To be drunk to the point of not feeling that one is
on fire; to set oneâs self aflame, like a bonfire on St. Johnâs day; to
disappear in smoke to the last bone. Think of Uncle Macquart starting
on his journey through space; first diffused through the four corners of
the room, dissolved in air and floating about, bathing all that belonged
to him; then escaping in a cloud of dust through the window, when I
opened it for him, soaring up into the sky, filling the horizon. Why,
that is an admirable death! To disappear, to leave nothing of himself
behind but a little heap of ashes and a pipe beside it!â
And he picked up the pipe to keep it, as he said, as a relic of Uncle
Macquart; while Clotilde, who thought she perceived a touch of bitter
mockery in his eulogistic rhapsody, shuddered anew with horror and
disgust. But suddenly she perceived something under the table--part of
the remains, perhaps.
âLook at that fragment there.â
He stooped down and picked up with surprise a womanâs glove, a yellow
glove.
âWhy!â she cried, âit is grandmotherâs glove; the glove that was missing
last evening.â
They looked at each other; by a common impulse the same explanation
rose to their lips, Felicite was certainly there yesterday; and a sudden
conviction forced itself on the doctorâs mind--the conviction that his
mother had seen Uncle Macquart burning and that she had not quenched
him. Various indications pointed to this--the state of complete coolness
in which he found the room, the number of hours which he calculated to
have been necessary for the combustion of the body. He saw clearly the
same thought dawning in the terrified eyes of his companion. But as it
seemed impossible that they should ever know the truth, he fabricated
aloud the simplest explanation:
âNo doubt your grandmother came in yesterday on her way back from
the asylum, to say good day to Uncle Macquart, before he had begun
drinking.â
âLet us go away! let us go away!â cried Clotilde. âI am stifling here; I
cannot remain here!â
Pascal, too, wished to go and give information of the death. He went out
after her, shut up the house, and put the key in his pocket. Outside,
they heard the little yellow dog still howling. He had taken refuge
between Charlesâ legs, and the boy amused himself pushing him with his
foot and listening to him whining, without comprehending.
The doctor went at once to the house of M. Maurin, the notary at the
Tulettes, who was also mayor of the commune. A widower for ten years
past, and living with his daughter, who was a childless widow, he had
maintained neighborly relations with old Macquart, and had occasionally
kept little Charles with him for several days at a time, his daughter
having become interested in the boy who was so handsome and so much
to be pitied. M. Maurin, horrified at the news, went at once with the
doctor to draw up a statement of the accident, and promised to make out
the death certificate in due form. As for religious ceremonies, funeral
obsequies, they seemed scarcely possible. When they entered the kitchen
the draught from the door scattered the ashes about, and when they
piously attempted to collect them again they succeeded only in gathering
together the scrapings of the flags, a collection of accumulated dirt,
in which there could be but little of Uncle Macquart. What, then,
could they bury? It was better to give up the idea. So they gave it
up. Besides, Uncle Macquart had been hardly a devout Catholic, and the
family contented themselves with causing masses to be said later on for
the repose of his soul.
The notary, meantime, had immediately declared that there existed a
will, which had been deposited with him, and he asked Pascal to meet him
at his house on the next day but one for the reading; for he thought he
might tell the doctor at once that Uncle Macquart had chosen him as
his executor. And he ended by offering, like a kindhearted man, to keep
Charles with him until then, comprehending how greatly the boy, who was
so unwelcome at his motherâs, would be in the way in the midst of all
these occurrences. Charles seemed enchanted, and he remained at the
Tulettes.
It was not until very late, until seven oâclock, that Clotilde and
Pascal were able to take the train to return to Plassans, after the
doctor had at last visited the two patients whom he had to see. But
when they returned together to the notaryâs on the day appointed for the
meeting, they had the disagreeable surprise of finding old Mme. Rougon
installed there. She had naturally learned of Macquartâs death, and had
hurried there on the following day, full of excitement, and making a
great show of grief; and she had just made her appearance again to-day,
having heard the famous testament spoken of. The reading of the will,
however, was a simple matter, unmarked by any incident. Macquart
had left all the fortune that he could dispose of for the purpose of
erecting a superb marble monument to himself, with two angels with
folded wings, weeping. It was his own idea, a reminiscence of a similar
tomb which he had seen abroad--in Germany, perhaps--when he was a
soldier. And he had charged his nephew Pascal to superintend the
erection of the monument, as he was the only one of the family, he said,
who had any taste.
During the reading of the will Clotilde had remained in the notaryâs
garden, sitting on a bench under the shade of an ancient chestnut tree.
When Pascal and Felicite again appeared, there was a moment of great
embarrassment, for they had not spoken to one another for some months
past. The old lady, however, affected to be perfectly at her ease,
making no allusion whatever to the new situation, and giving it to be
understood that they might very well meet and appear united before the
world, without for that reason entering into an explanation or becoming
reconciled. But she committed the mistake of laying too much stress
on the great grief which Macquartâs death had caused her. Pascal, who
suspected the overflowing joy, the unbounded delight which it gave her
to think that this family ulcer was to be at last healed, that this
abominable uncle was at last out of the way, became gradually possessed
by an impatience, an indignation, which he could not control. His eyes
fastened themselves involuntarily on his motherâs gloves, which were
black.
Just then she was expressing her grief in lowered tones:
âBut how imprudent it was, at his age, to persist in living alone--like
a wolf in his lair! If he had only had a servant in the house with him!â
Then the doctor, hardly conscious of what he was saying, terrified at
hearing himself say the words, but impelled by an irresistible force,
said:
âBut, mother, since you were there, why did you not quench him?â
Old Mme. Rougon turned frightfully pale. How could her son have known?
She looked at him for an instant in open-mouthed amazement; while
Clotilde grew as pale as she, in the certainty of the crime, which was
now evident. It was an avowal, this terrified silence which had fallen
between the mother, the son, and the granddaughter--the shuddering
silence in which families bury their domestic tragedies. The doctor, in
despair at having spoken, he who avoided so carefully all disagreeable
and useless explanations, was trying desperately to retract his words,
when a new catastrophe extricated him from his terrible embarrassment.
Felicite desired to take Charles away with her, in order not to trespass
on the notaryâs kind hospitality; and as the latter had sent the boy
after breakfast to spend an hour or two with Aunt Dide, he had sent the
maid servant to the asylum with orders to bring him back immediately. It
was at this juncture that the servant, whom they were waiting for in the
garden, made her appearance, covered with perspiration, out of breath,
and greatly excited, crying from a distance:
âMy God! My God! come quickly. Master Charles is bathed in blood.â
Filled with consternation, all three set off for the asylum. This day
chanced to be one of Aunt Dideâs good days; very calm and gentle she sat
erect in the armchair in which she had spent the hours, the long hours
for twenty-two years past, looking straight before her into vacancy. She
seemed to have grown still thinner, all the flesh had disappeared, her
limbs were now only bones covered with parchment-like skin; and her
keeper, the stout fair-haired girl, carried her, fed her, took her
up and laid her down as if she had been a bundle. The ancestress, the
forgotten one, tall, bony, ghastly, remained motionless, her eyes, only
seeming to have life, her eyes shining clear as spring water in her thin
withered face. But on this morning, again a sudden rush of tears had
streamed down her cheeks, and she had begun to stammer words without
any connection; which seemed to prove that in the midst of her senile
exhaustion and the incurable torpor of madness, the slow induration of
the brain and the limbs was not yet complete; there still were memories
stored away, gleams of intelligence still were possible. Then her face
had resumed its vacant expression. She seemed indifferent to every one
and everything, laughing, sometimes, at an accident, at a fall, but most
often seeing nothing and hearing nothing, gazing fixedly into vacancy.
When Charles had been brought to her the keeper had immediately
installed him before the little table, in front of his
great-great-grandmother. The girl kept a package of pictures for
him--soldiers, captains, kings clad in purple and gold, and she gave
them to him with a pair of scissors, saying:
âThere, amuse yourself quietly, and behave well. You see that to-day
grandmother is very good. You must be good, too.â
The boy raised his eyes to the madwomanâs face, and both looked at each
other. At this moment the resemblance between them was extraordinary.
Their eyes, especially, their vacant and limpid eyes, seemed to lose
themselves in one another, to be identical. Then it was the physiognomy,
the whole face, the worn features of the centenarian, that passed over
three generations to this delicate childâs face, it, too, worn already,
as it were, and aged by the wear of the race. Neither smiled, they
regarded each other intently, with an air of grave imbecility.
âWell!â continued the keeper, who had acquired the habit of talking to
herself to cheer herself when with her mad charge, âyou cannot deny each
other. The same hand made you both. You are the very spit-down of
each other. Come, laugh a bit, amuse yourselves, since you like to be
together.â
But to fix his attention for any length of time fatigued Charles, and
he was the first to lower his eyes; he seemed to be interested in his
pictures, while Aunt Dide, who had an astonishing power of fixing her
attention, as if she had been turned into stone, continued to look at
him fixedly, without even winking an eyelid.
The keeper busied herself for a few moments in the little sunny room,
made gay by its light, blue-flowered paper. She made the bed which she
had been airing, she arranged the linen on the shelves of the press.
But she generally profited by the presence of the boy to take a little
relaxation. She had orders never to leave her charge alone, and now that
he was here she ventured to trust her with him.
âListen to me well,â she went on, âI have to go out for a little, and if
she stirs, if she should need me, ring for me, call me at once; do you
hear? You understand, you are a big enough boy to be able to call one.â
He had looked up again, and made a sign that he had understood and that
he would call her. And when he found himself alone with Aunt Dide he
returned to his pictures quietly. This lasted for a quarter of an hour
amid the profound silence of the asylum, broken only at intervals by
some prison sound--a stealthy step, the jingling of a bunch of keys,
and occasionally a loud cry, immediately silenced. But the boy must have
been tired by the excessive heat of the day, for sleep gradually stole
over him. Soon his head, fair as a lily, drooped, and as if weighed down
by the too heavy casque of his royal locks, he let it sink gently on the
pictures and fell asleep, with his cheek resting on the gold and purple
kings. The lashes of his closed eyelids cast a shadow on his delicate
skin, with its small blue veins, through which life pulsed feebly. He
was beautiful as an angel, but with the indefinable corruption of a
whole race spread over his countenance. And Aunt Dide looked at him with
her vacant stare in which there was neither pleasure nor pain, the stare
of eternity contemplating things earthly.
At the end of a few moments, however, an expression of interest seemed
to dawn in the clear eyes. Something had just happened, a drop of blood
was forming on the edge of the left nostril of the boy. This drop fell
and another formed and followed it. It was the blood, the dew of blood,
exuding this time, without a scratch, without a bruise, which issued
and flowed of itself in the laxity of the degenerate tissues. The drops
became a slender thread which flowed over the gold of the pictures. A
little pool covered them, and made its way to a corner of the table;
then the drops began again, splashing dully one by one upon the floor.
And he still slept, with the divinely calm look of a cherub, not even
conscious of the life that was escaping from him; and the madwoman
continued to look at him, with an air of increasing interest, but
without terror, amused, rather, her attention engaged by this, as by the
flight of the big flies, which her gaze often followed for hours.
Several minutes more passed, the slender thread had grown larger, the
drops followed one another more rapidly, falling on the floor with a
monotonous and persistent drip. And Charles, at one moment, stirred,
opened his eyes, and perceived that he was covered with blood. But
he was not frightened; he was accustomed to this bloody spring, which
issued from him at the slightest cause. He merely gave a sigh of
weariness. Instinct, however, must have warned him, for he moaned more
loudly than before, and called confusedly in stammering accents:
âMamma! mamma!â
His weakness was no doubt already excessive, for an irresistible stupor
once more took possession of him, his head dropped, his eyes closed, and
he seemed to fall asleep again, continuing his plaint, as if in a dream,
moaning in fainter and fainter accents:
âMamma! mamma!â
Now the pictures were inundated; the black velvet jacket and trousers,
braided with gold, were stained with long streaks of blood, and the
little red stream began again to flow persistently from his left
nostril, without stopping, crossed the red pool on the table and fell
upon the ground, where it at last formed a veritable lake. A loud cry
from the madwoman, a terrified call would have sufficed. But she did
not cry, she did not call; motionless, rigid, emaciated, sitting there
forgotten of the world, she gazed with the fixed look of the ancestress
who sees the destinies of her race being accomplished. She sat there as
if dried up, bound; her limbs and her tongue tied by her hundred years,
her brain ossified by madness, incapable of willing or of acting. And
yet the sight of the little red stream began to stir some feeling in
her. A tremor passed over her deathlike countenance, a flush mounted to
her cheeks. Finally, a last plaint roused her completely:
âMamma! mamma!â
Then it was evident that a terrible struggle was taking place in Aunt
Dide. She carried her skeleton-like hand to her forehead as if she felt
her brain bursting. Her mouth was wide open, but no sound issued
from it; the dreadful tumult that had arisen within her had no doubt
paralyzed her tongue. She tried to rise, to run, but she had no longer
any muscles; she remained fastened to her seat. All her poor body
trembled in the superhuman effort which she was making to cry for help,
without being able to break the bonds of old age and madness which
held her prisoner. Her face was distorted with terror; memory gradually
awakening, she must have comprehended everything.
And it was a slow and gentle agony, of which the spectacle lasted for
several minutes more. Charles, silent now, as if he had again fallen
asleep, was losing the last drops of blood that had remained in his
veins, which were emptying themselves softly. His lily-like whiteness
increased until it became a deathlike pallor. His lips lost their rosy
color, became a pale pink, then white. And, as he was about to expire,
he opened his large eyes and fixed them on his great-great-grandmother,
who watched the light dying in them. All the waxen face was already
dead, the eyes only were still living. They still kept their limpidity,
their brightness. All at once they became vacant, the light in them was
extinguished. This was the end--the death of the eyes, and Charles had
died, without a struggle, exhausted, like a fountain from which all
the water has run out. Life no longer pulsed through the veins of his
delicate skin, there was now only the shadow of its wings on his white
face. But he remained divinely beautiful, his face lying in blood,
surrounded by his royal blond locks, like one of those little bloodless
dauphins who, unable to bear the execrable heritage of their race, die
of decrepitude and imbecility at sixteen.
The boy exhaled his latest breath as Dr. Pascal entered the room,
followed by Felicite and Clotilde. And when he saw the quantity of blood
that inundated the floor, he cried:
âAh, my God! it is as I feared, a hemorrhage from the nose! The poor
darling, no one was with him, and it is all over!â
But all three were struck with terror at the extraordinary spectacle
that now met their gaze. Aunt Dide, who seemed to have grown taller, in
the superhuman effort she was making, had almost succeeded in raising
herself up, and her eyes, fixed on the dead boy, so fair and so gentle,
and on the red sea of blood, beginning to congeal, that was lying around
him, kindled with a thought, after a long sleep of twenty-two years.
This final lesion of madness, this irremediable darkness of the mind,
was evidently not so complete but that some memory of the past, lying
hidden there, might awaken suddenly under the terrible blow which had
struck her. And the ancestress, the forgotten one, lived again, emerged
from her oblivion, rigid and wasted, like a specter of terror and grief.
For an instant she remained panting. Then with a shudder, which made her
teeth chatter, she stammered a single phrase:
âThe _gendarme_! the _gendarme_!â
Pascal and Felicite and Clotilde understood. They looked at one another
involuntarily, turning very pale. The whole dreadful history of the old
mother--of the mother of them all--rose before them, the ardent love
of her youth, the long suffering of her mature age. Already two moral
shocks had shaken her terribly--the first, when she was in her ardent
prime, when a _gendarme_ shot down her lover Macquart, the smuggler,
like a dog; the second, years ago, when another _gendarme_ shattered
with a pistol shot the skull of her grandson Silvere, the insurgent, the
victim of the hatred and the sanguinary strife of the family. Blood
had always bespattered her. And a third moral shock finished her; blood
bespattered her again, the impoverished blood of her race, which she
had just beheld flowing slowly, and which lay upon the ground, while the
fair royal child, his veins and his heart empty, slept.
Three times--face to face with her past life, her life red with passion
and suffering, haunted by the image of expiation--she stammered:
âThe _gendarme_! the _gendarme_! the _gendarme_!â
Then she sank back into her armchair. They thought she was dead, killed
by the shock.
But the keeper at this moment at last appeared, endeavoring to excuse
herself, fearing that she would be dismissed. When, aided by her, Dr.
Pascal had placed Aunt Dide on the bed, he found that the old mother was
still alive. She was not to die until the following day, at the age of
one hundred and five years, three months, and seven days, of congestion
of the brain, caused by the last shock she had received.
Pascal, turning to his mother, said:
âShe will not live twenty-four hours; to-morrow she will be dead. Ah!
Uncle Macquart, then she, and this poor boy, one after another. How much
misery and grief!â
He paused and added in a lower tone:
âThe family is thinning out; the old trees fall and the young die
standing.â
Felicite must have thought this another allusion. She was sincerely
shocked by the tragic death of little Charles. But, notwithstanding,
above the horror which she felt there arose a sense of immense relief.
Next week, when they should have ceased to weep, what a rest to be able
to say to herself that all this abomination of the Tulettes was at an
end, that the family might at last rise, and shine in history!
Then she remembered that she had not answered the involuntary accusation
made against her by her son at the notaryâs; and she spoke again of
Macquart, through bravado:
âYou see now that servants are of no use. There was one here, and yet
she prevented nothing; it would have been useless for Uncle Macquart
to have had one to take care of him; he would be in ashes now, all the
same.â
She sighed, and then continued in a broken voice:
âWell, well, neither our own fate nor that of others is in our hands;
things happen as they will. These are great blows that have fallen upon
us. We must only trust to God for the preservation and the prosperity of
our family.â
Dr. Pascal bowed with his habitual air of deference and said:
âYou are right, mother.â
Clotilde knelt down. Her former fervent Catholic faith had revived in
this chamber of blood, of madness, and of death. Tears streamed down her
cheeks, and with clasped hands she was praying fervently for the dear
ones who were no more. She prayed that God would grant that their
sufferings might indeed be ended, their faults pardoned, and that they
might live again in another life, a life of unending happiness. And she
prayed with the utmost fervor, in her terror of a hell, which after this
miserable life would make suffering eternal.
From this day Pascal and Clotilde went to visit their sick side by side,
filled with greater pity than ever. Perhaps, with Pascal, the feeling
of his powerlessness against inevitable disease was even stronger than
before. The only wisdom was to let nature take its course, to eliminate
dangerous elements, and to labor only in the supreme work of giving
health and strength. But the suffering and the death of those who are
dear to us awaken in us a hatred of disease, an irresistible desire to
combat and to vanquish it. And the doctor never tasted so great a joy
as when he succeeded, with his hypodermic injections, in soothing a
paroxysm of pain, in seeing the groaning patient grow tranquil and fall
asleep. Clotilde, in return, adored him, proud of their love, as if it
were a consolation which they carried, like the viaticum, to the poor.
X.
Martine one morning obtained from Dr. Pascal, as she did every three
months, his receipt for fifteen hundred francs, to take it to the notary
Grandguillot, to get from him what she called their âincome.â The doctor
seemed surprised that the payment should have fallen due again so soon;
he had never been so indifferent as he was now about money matters,
leaving to Martine the care of settling everything. And he and Clotilde
were under the plane trees, absorbed in the joy that filled their life,
lulled by the ceaseless song of the fountain, when the servant returned
with a frightened face, and in a state of extraordinary agitation. She
was so breathless with excitement that for a moment she could not speak.
âOh, my God! Oh, my God!â she cried at last. âM. Grandguillot has gone
away!â
Pascal did not at first comprehend.
âWell, my girl, there is no hurry,â he said; âyou can go back another
day.â
âNo, no! He has gone away; donât you hear? He has gone away forever--â
And as the waters rush forth in the bursting of a dam, her emotion
vented itself in a torrent of words.
âI reached the street, and I saw from a distance a crowd gathered
before the door. A chill ran through me; I felt that some misfortune
had happened. The door closed, and not a blind open, as if there was
somebody dead in the house. They told me when I got there that he had
run away; that he had not left a sou behind him; that many families
would be ruined.â
She laid the receipt on the stone table.
âThere! There is your paper! It is all over with us, we have not a sou
left, we are going to die of starvation!â And she sobbed aloud in the
anguish of her miserly heart, distracted by this loss of a fortune, and
trembling at the prospect of impending want.
Clotilde sat stunned and speechless, her eyes fixed on Pascal, whose
predominating feeling at first seemed to be one of incredulity. He
endeavored to calm Martine. Why! why! it would not do to give up in
this way. If all she knew of the affair was what she had heard from the
people in the street, it might be only gossip, after all, which always
exaggerates everything. M. Grandguillot a fugitive; M. Grandguillot a
thief; that was monstrous, impossible! A man of such probity, a house
liked and respected by all Plassans for more than a century past. Why
people thought money safer there than in the Bank of France.
âConsider, Martine, this would not have come all of a sudden, like a
thunderclap; there would have been some rumors of it beforehand. The
deuce! an old reputation does not fall to pieces in that way, in a
night.â
At this she made a gesture of despair.
âAh, monsieur, that is what most afflicts me, because, you see, it
throws some of the responsibility on me. For weeks past I have been
hearing stories on all sides. As for you two, naturally you hear
nothing; you donât even know whether you are alive or dead.â
Neither Pascal nor Clotilde could refrain from smiling; for it was
indeed true that their love lifted them so far above the earth that none
of the common sounds of existence reached them.
âBut the stories I heard were so ugly that I didnât like to worry you
with them. I thought they were lies.â
She was silent for a moment, and then added that while some people
merely accused M. Grandguillot of having speculated on the Bourse, there
were others who accused him of still worse practises. And she burst into
fresh sobs.
âMy God! My God! what is going to become of us? We are all going to die
of starvation!â
Shaken, then, moved by seeing Clotildeâs eyes, too, filled with tears,
Pascal made an effort to remember, to see clearly into the past. Years
ago, when he had been practising in Plassans, he had deposited at
different times, with M. Grandguillot, the twenty thousand francs on the
interest of which he had lived comfortably for the past sixteen years,
and on each occasion the notary had given him a receipt for the sum
deposited. This would no doubt enable him to establish his position as
a personal creditor. Then a vague recollection awoke in his memory; he
remembered, without being able to fix the date, that at the request of
the notary, and in consequence of certain representations made by him,
which Pascal had forgotten, he had given the lawyer a power of attorney
for the purpose of investing the whole or a part of his money, in
mortgages, and he was even certain that in this power the name of the
attorney had been left in blank. But he was ignorant as to whether this
document had ever been used or not; he had never taken the trouble to
inquire how his money had been invested. A fresh pang of miserly anguish
made Martine cry out:
âAh, monsieur, you are well punished for your sin. Was that a way to
abandon oneâs money? For my part, I know almost to a sou how my account
stands every quarter; I have every figure and every document at my
fingersâ ends.â
In the midst of her distress an unconscious smile broke over her face,
lighting it all up. Her long cherished passion had been gratified; her
four hundred francs wages, saved almost intact, put out at interest for
thirty years, at last amounted to the enormous sum of twenty thousand
francs. And this treasure was put away in a safe place which no one
knew. She beamed with delight at the recollection, and she said no more.
âBut who says that our money is lost?â cried Pascal.
âM. Grandguillot had a private fortune; he has not taken away with him
his house and his lands, I suppose. They will look into the affair; they
will make an investigation. I cannot make up my mind to believe him a
common thief. The only trouble is the delay: a liquidation drags on so
long.â
He spoke in this way in order to reassure Clotilde, whose growing
anxiety he observed. She looked at him, and she looked around her at La
Souleiade; her only care his happiness; her most ardent desire to live
here always, as she had lived in the past, to love him always in this
beloved solitude. And he, wishing to tranquilize her, recovered his fine
indifference; never having lived for money, he did not imagine that one
could suffer from the want of it.
âBut I have some money!â he cried, at last. âWhat does Martine mean
by saying that we have not a sou left, and that we are going to die of
starvation!â
And he rose gaily, and made them both follow him saying:
âCome, come, I am going to show you some money. And I will give some of
it to Martine that she may make us a good dinner this evening.â
Upstairs in his room he triumphantly opened his desk before them. It
was in a drawer of this desk that for years past he had thrown the money
which his later patients had brought him of their own accord, for he had
never sent them an account. Nor had he ever known the exact amount of
his little treasure, of the gold and bank bills mingled together in
confusion, from which he took the sums he required for his pocket money,
his experiments, his presents, and his alms. During the last few months
he had made frequent visits to his desk, making deep inroads into
its contents. But he had been so accustomed to find there the sums he
required, after years of economy during which he had spent scarcely
anything, that he had come to believe his savings inexhaustible.
He gave a satisfied laugh, then, as he opened the drawer, crying:
âNow you shall see! Now you shall see!â
And he was confounded, when, after searching among the heap of notes and
bills, he succeeded in collecting only a sum of 615 francs--two notes of
100 francs each, 400 francs in gold, and 15 francs in change. He shook
out the papers, he felt in every corner of the drawer, crying:
âBut it cannot be! There was always money here before, there was a heap
of money here a few days ago. It must have been all those old bills that
misled me. I assure you that last week I saw a great deal of money. I
had it in my hand.â
He spoke with such amusing good faith, his childlike surprise was so
sincere, that Clotilde could not keep from smiling. Ah, the poor master,
what a wretched business man he was! Then, as she observed Martineâs
look of anguish, her utter despair at sight of this insignificant sum,
which was now all there was for the maintenance of all three, she was
seized with a feeling of despair; her eyes filled with tears, and she
murmured:
âMy God, it is for me that you have spent everything; if we have nothing
now, if we are ruined, it is I who am the cause of it!â
Pascal had already forgotten the money he had taken for the presents.
Evidently that was where it had gone. The explanation tranquilized him.
And as she began to speak in her grief of returning everything to the
dealers, he grew angry.
âGive back what I have given you! You would give a piece of my heart
with it, then! No, I would rather die of hunger, I tell you!â
Then his confidence already restored, seeing a future of unlimited
possibilities opening out before him, he said:
âBesides, we are not going to die of hunger to-night, are we, Martine?
There is enough here to keep us for a long time.â
Martine shook her head. She would undertake to manage with it for
two months, for two and a half, perhaps, if people had sense, but not
longer. Formerly the drawer was replenished; there was always some money
coming in; but now that monsieur had given up his patients, they had
absolutely no income. They must not count on any help from outside,
then. And she ended by saying:
âGive me the two one-hundred-franc bills. Iâll try and make them last
for a month. Then we shall see. But be very prudent; donât touch the
four hundred francs in gold; lock the drawer and donât open it again.â
âOh, as to that,â cried the doctor, âyou may make your mind easy. I
would rather cut off my right hand.â
And thus it was settled. Martine was to have entire control of this
last purse; and they might trust to her economy, they were sure that she
would save the centimes. As for Clotilde, who had never had a private
purse, she would not even feel the want of money. Pascal only would
suffer from no longer having his inexhaustible treasure to draw upon,
but he had given his promise to allow the servant to buy everything.
âThere! That is a good piece of work!â he said, relieved, as happy as
if he had just settled some important affair which would assure them a
living for a long time to come.
A week passed during which nothing seemed to have changed at La
Souleiade. In the midst of their tender raptures neither Pascal nor
Clotilde thought any more of the want which was impending. And one
morning during the absence of the latter, who had gone with Martine to
market, the doctor received a visit which filled him at first with a
sort of terror. It was from the woman who had sold him the beautiful
corsage of old point dâAlencon, his first present to Clotilde. He felt
himself so weak against a possible temptation that he trembled. Even
before the woman had uttered a word he had already begun to defend
himself--no, no, he neither could nor would buy anything. And with
outstretched hands he prevented her from taking anything out of her
little bag, declaring to himself that he would look at nothing. The
dealer, however, a fat, amiable woman, smiled, certain of victory. In an
insinuating voice she began to tell him a long story of how a lady, whom
she was not at liberty to name, one of the most distinguished ladies
in Plassans, who had suddenly met with a reverse of fortune, had been
obliged to part with one of her jewels; and she then enlarged on the
splendid chance--a piece of jewelry that had cost twelve hundred francs,
and she was willing to let it go for five hundred. She opened her bag
slowly, in spite of the terrified and ever-louder protestations of the
doctor, and took from it a slender gold necklace set simply with seven
pearls in front; but the pearls were of wonderful brilliancy--flawless,
and perfect in shape. The ornament was simple, chaste, and of exquisite
delicacy. And instantly he saw in fancy the necklace on Clotildeâs
beautiful neck, as its natural adornment. Any other jewel would have
been a useless ornament, these pearls would be the fitting symbol of her
youth. And he took the necklace in his trembling fingers, experiencing
a mortal anguish at the idea of returning it. He defended himself still,
however; he declared that he had not five hundred francs, while the
dealer continued, in her smooth voice, to push the advantage she had
gained. After another quarter an hour, when she thought she had him
secure, she suddenly offered him the necklace for three hundred francs,
and he yielded; his mania for giving, his desire to please his idol, to
adorn her, conquered. When he went to the desk to take the fifteen
gold pieces to count them out to the dealer, he felt convinced that the
notaryâs affairs would be arranged, and that they would soon have plenty
of money.
When Pascal found himself once more alone, with the ornament in his
pocket, he was seized with a childish delight, and he planned his little
surprise, while waiting, excited and impatient, for Clotildeâs return.
The moment she made her appearance his heart began to beat violently.
She was very warm, for an August sun was blazing in the sky, and she
laid aside her things quickly, pleased with her walk, telling him,
laughing, of the good bargain Martine had made--two pigeons for eighteen
sous. While she was speaking he pretended to notice something on her
neck.
âWhy, what have you on your neck? Let me see.â
He had the necklace in his hand, and he succeeded in putting it around
her neck, while feigning to pass his fingers over it, to assure himself
that there was nothing there. But she resisted, saying gaily:
âDonât! There is nothing on my neck. Here, what are you doing? What have
you in your hand that is tickling me?â
He caught hold of her, and drew her before the long mirror, in which she
had a full view of herself. On her neck the slender chain showed like a
thread of gold, and the seven pearls, like seven milky stars, shone with
soft luster against her satin skin. She looked charmingly childlike.
Suddenly she gave a delighted laugh, like the cooing of a dove swelling
out its throat proudly.
âOh, master, master, how good you are! Do you think of nothing but me,
then? How happy you make me!â
And the joy which shone in her eyes, the joy of the woman and the lover,
happy to be beautiful and to be adored, recompensed him divinely for his
folly.
She drew back her head, radiant, and held up her mouth to him. He bent
over and kissed her.
âAre you happy?â
âOh, yes, master, happy, happy! Pearls are so sweet, so pure! And these
are so becoming to me!â
For an instant longer she admired herself in the glass, innocently vain
of her fair flower-like skin, under the nacre drops of the pearls. Then,
yielding to a desire to show herself, hearing the servant moving about
outside, she ran out, crying:
âMartine, Martine! See what master has just given me! Say, am I not
beautiful!â
But all at once, seeing the old maidâs severe face, that had suddenly
turned an ashen hue, she became confused, and all her pleasure was
spoiled. Perhaps she had a consciousness of the jealous pang which
her brilliant youth caused this poor creature, worn out in the dumb
resignation of her servitude, in adoration of her master. This, however,
was only a momentary feeling, unconscious in the one, hardly suspected
by the other, and what remained was the evident disapprobation of the
economical servant, condemning the present with her sidelong glance.
Clotilde was seized with a little chill.
âOnly,â she murmured, âmaster has rummaged his desk again. Pearls are
very dear, are they not?â
Pascal, embarrassed, too, protested volubly, telling them of the
splendid opportunity presented by the dealerâs visit. An incredibly good
stroke of business--it was impossible to avoid buying the necklace.
âHow much?â asked the young girl with real anxiety.
âThree hundred francs.â
Martine, who had not yet opened her lips, but who looked terrible in her
silence, could not restrain a cry.
âGood God! enough to live upon for six weeks, and we have not bread!â
Large tears welled from Clotildeâs eyes. She would have torn the
necklace from her neck if Pascal had not prevented her. She wished to
give it to him on the instant, and she faltered in heart-broken tones:
âIt is true, Martine is right. Master is mad, and I am mad, too, to keep
this for an instant, in the situation in which we are. It would burn my
flesh. Let me take it back, I beg of you.â
Never would he consent to this, he said. Now his eyes, too, were moist,
he joined in their grief, crying that he was incorrigible, that they
ought to have taken all the money away from him. And running to the desk
he took the hundred francs that were left, and forced Martine to take
them, saying:
âI tell you that I will not keep another sou. I should spend this, too.
Take it, Martine; you are the only one of us who has any sense. You will
make the money last, I am very certain, until our affairs are settled.
And you, dear, keep that; do not grieve me.â
Nothing more was said about this incident. But Clotilde kept the
necklace, wearing it under her gown; and there was a sort of delightful
mystery in feeling on her neck, unknown to every one, this simple,
pretty ornament. Sometimes, when they were alone, she would smile at
Pascal and draw the pearls from her dress quickly, and show them to him
without a word; and as quickly she would replace them again on her warm
neck, filled with delightful emotion. It was their fond folly which she
thus recalled to him, with a confused gratitude, a vivid and radiant
joy--a joy which nevermore left her.
A straitened existence, sweet in spite of everything, now began for
them. Martine made an exact inventory of the resources of the house, and
it was not reassuring. The provision of potatoes only promised to be
of any importance. As ill luck would have it, the jar of oil was almost
out, and the last cask of wine was also nearly empty. La Souleiade,
having neither vines nor olive trees, produced only a few vegetables and
some fruits--pears, not yet ripe, and trellis grapes, which were to be
their only delicacies. And meat and bread had to be bought every day. So
that from the first day the servant put Pascal and Clotilde on rations,
suppressing the former sweets, creams, and pastry, and reducing the food
to the quantity barely necessary to sustain life. She resumed all
her former authority, treating them like children who were not to be
consulted, even with regard to their wishes or their tastes. It was
she who arranged the menus, who knew better than themselves what they
wanted; but all this like a mother, surrounding them with unceasing
care, performing the miracle of enabling them to live still with comfort
on their scanty resources; occasionally severe with them, for their own
good, as one is severe with a child when it refuses to eat its food. And
it seemed as if this maternal care, this last immolation, the illusory
peace with which she surrounded their love, gave her, too, a little
happiness, and drew her out of the dumb despair into which she had
fallen. Since she had thus watched over them she had begun to look like
her old self, with her little white face, the face of a nun vowed to
chastity; her calm ash-colored eyes, which expressed the resignation of
her thirty years of servitude. When, after the eternal potatoes and the
little cutlet at four sous, undistinguishable among the vegetables, she
was able, on certain days, without compromising her budget, to give them
pancakes, she was triumphant, she laughed to see them laugh.
Pascal and Clotilde thought everything she did was right, which did not
prevent them, however, from jesting about her when she was not present.
The old jests about her avarice were repeated over and over again. They
said that she counted the grains of pepper, so many grains for each
dish, in her passion for economy. When the potatoes had too little oil,
when the cutlets were reduced to a mouthful, they would exchange a quick
glance, stifling their laughter in their napkins, until she had left
the room. Everything was a source of amusement to them, and they laughed
innocently at their misery.
At the end of the first month Pascal thought of Martineâs wages. Usually
she took her forty francs herself from the common purse which she kept.
âMy poor girl,â he said to her one evening, âwhat are you going to do
for your wages, now that we have no more money?â
She remained for a moment with her eyes fixed on the ground, with an air
of consternation, then she said:
âWell, monsieur, I must only wait.â
But he saw that she had not said all that was in her mind, that she had
thought of some arrangement which she did not know how to propose to
him, so he encouraged her.
âWell, then, if monsieur would consent to it, I should like monsieur to
sign me a paper.â
âHow, a paper?â
âYes, a paper, in which monsieur should say, every month, that he owes
me forty francs.â
Pascal at once made out the paper for her, and this made her quite
happy. She put it away as carefully as if it had been real money.
This evidently tranquilized her. But the paper became a new subject of
wondering amusement to the doctor and his companion. In what did the
extraordinary power consist which money has on certain natures? This
old maid, who would serve him on bended knees, who adored him above
everything, to the extent of having devoted to him her whole life, to
ask for this silly guarantee, this scrap of paper which was of no value,
if he should be unable to pay her.
So far neither Pascal nor Clotilde had any great merit in preserving
their serenity in misfortune, for they did not feel it. They lived high
above it, in the rich and happy realm of their love. At table they did
not know what they were eating; they might fancy they were partaking of
a princely banquet, served on silver dishes. They were unconscious of
the increasing destitution around them, of the hunger of the servant
who lived upon the crumbs from their table; and they walked through the
empty house as through a palace hung with silk and filled with riches.
This was undoubtedly the happiest period of their love. The workroom had
pleasant memories of the past, and they spent whole days there, wrapped
luxuriously in the joy of having lived so long in it together. Then, out
of doors, in every corner of La Souleiade, royal summer had set up his
blue tent, dazzling with gold. In the morning, in the embalsamed walks
on the pine grove; at noon under the dark shadow of the plane trees,
lulled by the murmur of the fountain; in the evening on the cool
terrace, or in the still warm threshing yard bathed in the faint blue
radiance of the first stars, they lived with rapture their straitened
life, their only ambition to live always together, indifferent to all
else. The earth was theirs, with all its riches, its pomps, and its
dominions, since they loved each other.
Toward the end of August however, matters grew bad again. At times they
had rude awakenings, in the midst of this life without ties, without
duties, without work; this life which was so sweet, but which it would
be impossible, hurtful, they knew, to lead always. One evening Martine
told them that she had only fifty francs left, and that they would have
difficulty in managing for two weeks longer, even giving up wine. In
addition to this the news was very serious; the notary Grandguillot was
beyond a doubt insolvent, so that not even the personal creditors would
receive anything. In the beginning they had relied on the house and the
two farms which the fugitive notary had left perforce behind him, but it
was now certain that this property was in his wifeâs name and, while
he was enjoying in Switzerland, as it was said, the beauty of the
mountains, she lived on one of the farms, which she cultivated
quietly, away from the annoyances of the liquidation. In short, it was
infamous--a hundred families ruined; left without bread. An assignee had
indeed been appointed, but he had served only to confirm the disaster,
since not a centime of assets had been discovered. And Pascal, with his
usual indifference, neglected even to go and see him to speak to him
about his own case, thinking that he already knew all that there was
to be known about it, and that it was useless to stir up this ugly
business, since there was neither honor nor profit to be derived from
it.
Then, indeed, the future looked threatening at La Souleiade. Black want
stared them in the face. And Clotilde, who, in reality, had a great
deal of good sense, was the first to take alarm. She maintained her
cheerfulness while Pascal was present, but, more prescient than he, in
her womanly tenderness, she fell into a state of absolute terror if he
left her for an instant, asking herself what was to become of him at
his age with so heavy a burden upon his shoulders. For several days she
cherished in secret a project--to work and earn money, a great deal of
money, with her pastels. People had so often praised her extraordinary
and original talent that, taking Martine into her confidence, she sent
her one fine morning to offer some of her fantastic bouquets to the
color dealer of the Cours Sauvaire, who was a relation, it was said, of
a Parisian artist. It was with the express condition that nothing was to
be exhibited in Plassans, that everything was to be sent to a distance.
But the result was disastrous; the merchant was frightened by the
strangeness of the design, and by the fantastic boldness of the
execution, and he declared that they would never sell. This threw her
into despair; great tears welled her eyes. Of what use was she? It was
a grief and a humiliation to be good for nothing. And the servant was
obliged to console her, saying that no doubt all women were not born for
work; that some grew like the flowers in the gardens, for the sake
of their fragrance; while others were the wheat of the fields that is
ground up and used for food.
Martine, meantime, cherished another project; it was to urge the doctor
to resume his practise. At last she mentioned it to Clotilde, who at
once pointed out to her the difficulty, the impossibility almost, of
such an attempt. She and Pascal had been talking about his doing so only
the day before. He, too, was anxious, and had thought of work as the
only chance of salvation. The idea of opening an office again was
naturally the first that had presented itself to him. But he had been
for so long a time the physician of the poor! How could he venture now
to ask payment when it was so many years since he had left off doing so?
Besides, was it not too late, at his age, to recommence a career? not to
speak of the absurd rumors that had been circulating about him, the name
which they had given him of a crack-brained genius. He would not find a
single patient now, it would be a useless cruelty to force him to make
an attempt which would assuredly result only in a lacerated heart and
empty hands. Clotilde, on the contrary, had used all her influence to
turn him from the idea. Martine comprehended the reasonableness of these
objections, and she too declared that he must be prevented from running
the risk of so great a chagrin. But while she was speaking a new idea
occurred to her, as she suddenly remembered an old register, which she
had met with in a press, and in which she had in former times entered
the doctorâs visits. For a long time it was she who had kept the
accounts. There were so many patients who had never paid that a list
of them filled three of the large pages of the register. Why, then, now
that they had fallen into misfortune, should they not ask from these
people the money which they justly owed? It might be done without saying
anything to monsieur, who had never been willing to appeal to the
law. And this time Clotilde approved of her idea. It was a perfect
conspiracy. Clotilde consulted the register, and made out the bills, and
the servant presented them. But nowhere did she receive a sou; they told
her at every door that they would look over the account; that they would
stop in and see the doctor himself. Ten days passed, no one came, and
there were now only six francs in the house, barely enough to live upon
for two or three days longer.
Martine, when she returned with empty hands on the following day from a
new application to an old patient, took Clotilde aside and told her that
she had just been talking with Mme. Felicite at the corner of the Rue de
la Banne. The latter had undoubtedly been watching for her. She had
not again set foot in La Souleiade. Not even the misfortune which had
befallen her son--the sudden loss of his money, of which the whole
town was talking--had brought her to him; she still continued stern and
indignant. But she waited in trembling excitement, she maintained her
attitude as an offended mother only in the certainty that she would at
last have Pascal at her feet, shrewdly calculating that he would sooner
or later be compelled to appeal to her for assistance. When he had not a
sou left, when he knocked at her door, then she would dictate her
terms; he should marry Clotilde, or, better still, she would demand the
departure of the latter. But the days passed, and he did not come. And
this was why she had stopped Martine, assuming a pitying air, asking
what news there was, and seeming to be surprised that they had not had
recourse to her purse, while giving it to be understood that her dignity
forbade her to take the first step.
âYou should speak to monsieur, and persuade him,â ended the servant. And
indeed, why should he not appeal to his mother? That would be entirely
natural.
âOh! never would I undertake such a commission,â cried Clotilde.
âMaster would be angry, and with reason. I truly believe he would die of
starvation before he would eat grandmotherâs bread.â
But on the evening of the second day after this, at dinner, as Martine
was putting on the table a piece of boiled beef left over from the day
before, she gave them notice.
âI have no more money, monsieur, and to-morrow there will be only
potatoes, without oil or butter. It is three weeks now that you have had
only water to drink; now you will have to do without meat.â
They were still cheerful, they could still jest.
âHave you salt, my good girl?â
âOh, that; yes, monsieur, there is still a little left.â
âWell, potatoes and salt are very good when one is hungry.â
That night, however, Pascal noticed that Clotilde was feverish; this was
the hour in which they exchanged confidences, and she ventured to tell
him of her anxiety on his account, on her own, on that of the whole
house. What was going to become of them when all their resources should
be exhausted? For a moment she thought of speaking to him of his mother.
But she was afraid, and she contented herself with confessing to him
what she and Martine had done--the old register examined, the bills made
out and sent, the money asked everywhere in vain. In other circumstances
he would have been greatly annoyed and very angry at this confession;
offended that they should have acted without his knowledge, and contrary
to the attitude he had maintained during his whole professional life. He
remained for a long tine silent, strongly agitated, and this would have
sufficed to prove how great must be his secret anguish at times, under
his apparent indifference to poverty. Then he forgave Clotilde, clasping
her wildly to his breast, and finally he said that she had done right,
that they could not continue to live much longer as they were living,
in a destitution which increased every day. Then they fell into silence,
each trying to think of a means of procuring the money necessary for
their daily wants, each suffering keenly; she, desperate at the thought
of the tortures that awaited him; he unable to accustom himself to the
idea of seeing her wanting bread. Was their happiness forever ended,
then? Was poverty going to blight their spring with its chill breath?
At breakfast, on the following day, they ate only fruit. The doctor was
very silent during the morning, a prey to a visible struggle. And it was
not until three oâclock that he took a resolution.
âCome, we must stir ourselves,â he said to his companion. âI do not
wish you to fast this evening again; so put on your hat, we will go out
together.â
She looked at him, waiting for an explanation.
âYes, since they owe us money, and have refused to give it to you, I
will see whether they will also refuse to give it to me.â
His hands trembled; the thought of demanding payment in this way, after
so many years, evidently made him suffer terribly; but he forced
a smile, he affected to be very brave. And she, who knew from the
trembling of his voice the extent of his sacrifice, had tears in her
eyes.
âNo, no, master; donât go if it makes you suffer so much. Martine can go
again.â
But the servant, who was present, approved highly of monsieurâs
intention.
âAnd why should not monsieur go? Thereâs no shame in asking what is owed
to one, is there? Every one should have his own; for my part, I think it
quite right that monsieur should show at last that he is a man.â
Then, as before, in their hours of happiness, old King David, as Pascal
jestingly called himself, left the house, leaning on Abishagâs arm.
Neither of them was yet in rags; he still wore his tightly buttoned
overcoat; she had on her pretty linen gown with red spots, but doubtless
the consciousness of their poverty lowered them in their own estimation,
making them feel that they were now only two poor people who occupied
a very insignificant place in the world, for they walked along by the
houses, shunning observation. The sunny streets were almost deserted. A
few curious glances embarrassed them. They did not hasten their steps,
however; only their hearts were oppressed at the thought of the visits
they were about to make.
Pascal resolved to begin with an old magistrate whom he had treated
for an affection of the liver. He entered the house, leaving Clotilde
sitting on the bench in the Cours Sauvaire. But he was greatly relieved
when the magistrate, anticipating his demand, told him that he did not
receive his rents until October, and that he would pay him then. At
the house of an old lady of seventy, a paralytic, the rebuff was of a
different kind. She was offended because her account had been sent to
her through a servant who had been impolite; so that he hastened to
offer her his excuses, giving her all the time she desired. Then he
climbed up three flights of stairs to the apartment of a clerk in the
tax collectorâs office, whom he found still ill, and so poor that he did
not even venture to make his demand. Then followed a mercer, a lawyerâs
wife, an oil merchant, a baker--all well-to-do people; and all turned
him away, some with excuses, others by denying him admittance; a few
even pretended not to know what he meant. There remained the Marquise
de Valqueyras, the sole representative of a very ancient family, a widow
with a girl of ten, who was very rich, and whose avarice was notorious.
He had left her for the last, for he was greatly afraid of her. Finally
he knocked at the door of her ancient mansion, at the foot of the Cours
Sauvaire, a massive structure of the time of Mazarin. He remained so
long in the house that Clotilde, who was walking under the trees, at
last became uneasy.
When he finally made his appearance, at the end of a full half hour, she
said jestingly, greatly relieved:
âWhy, what was the matter? Had she no money?â
But here, too, he had been unsuccessful; she complained that her tenants
did not pay her.
âImagine,â he continued, in explanation of his long absence, âthe little
girl is ill. I am afraid that it is the beginning of a gastric fever. So
she wished me to see the child, and I examined her.â
A smile which she could not suppress came to Clotildeâs lips.
âAnd you prescribed for her?â
âOf course; could I do otherwise?â
She took his arm again, deeply affected, and he felt her press it
against her heart. For a time they walked on aimlessly. It was all over;
they had knocked at every debtorâs door, and nothing now remained for
them to do but to return home with empty hands. But this Pascal refused
to do, determined that Clotilde should have something more than the
potatoes and water which awaited them. When they ascended the Cours
Sauvaire, they turned to the left, to the new town; drifting now whither
cruel fate led them.
âListen,â said Pascal at last; âI have an idea. If I were to speak to
Ramond he would willingly lend us a thousand francs, which we could
return to him when our affairs are arranged.â
She did not answer at once. Ramond, whom she had rejected, who was now
married and settled in a house in the new town, in a fair way to become
the fashionable physician of the place, and to make a fortune! She knew,
indeed, that he had a magnanimous soul and a kind heart. If he had not
visited them again it had been undoubtedly through delicacy. Whenever
they chanced to meet, he saluted them with so admiring an air, he seemed
so pleased to see their happiness.
âWould that be disagreeable to you?â asked Pascal ingenuously. For his
part, he would have thrown open to the young physician his house, his
purse, and his heart.
âNo, no,â she answered quickly. âThere has never been anything between
us but affection and frankness. I think I gave him a great deal of pain,
but he has forgiven me. You are right; we have no other friend. It is to
Ramond that we must apply.â
Ill luck pursued them, however. Ramond was absent from home, attending a
consultation at Marseilles, and he would not be back until the following
evening. And it young Mme. Ramond, an old friend of Clotildeâs,
some three years her junior, who received them. She seemed a little
embarrassed, but she was very amiable, notwithstanding. But the doctor,
naturally, did not prefer his request, and contented himself with
saying, in explanation of his visit, that he had missed Ramond. When
they were in the street again, Pascal and Clotilde felt themselves once
more abandoned and alone. Where now should they turn? What new effort
should they make? And they walked on again aimlessly.
âI did not tell you, master,â Clotilde at last ventured to murmur, âbut
it seems that Martine met grandmother the other day. Yes, grandmother
has been uneasy about us. She asked Martine why we did not go to her, if
we were in want. And see, here is her house.â
They were in fact, in the Rue de la Banne. They could see the corner of
the Place de la Sous-Prefecture. But he at once silenced her.
âNever, do you hear! Nor shall you go either. You say that because it
grieves you to see me in this poverty. My heart, too, is heavy, to think
that you also are in want, that you also suffer. But it is better to
suffer than to do a thing that would leave one an eternal remorse. I
will not. I cannot.â
They emerged from the Rue de la Banne, and entered the old quarter.
âI would a thousand times rather apply to a stranger. Perhaps we still
have friends, even if they are only among the poor.â
And resolved to beg, David continued his walk, leaning on the arm of
Abishag; the old mendicant king went from door to door, leaning on the
shoulder of the loving subject whose youth was now his only support.
It was almost six oâclock; the heat had abated; the narrow streets were
filling with people; and in this populous quarter where they were loved,
they were everywhere greeted with smiles. Something of pity was mingled
with the admiration they awakened, for every one knew of their ruin. But
they seemed of a nobler beauty than before, he all white, she all blond,
pressing close to each other in their misfortune. They seemed more
united, more one with each other than ever; holding their heads erect,
proud of their glorious love, though touched by misfortune; he shaken,
while she, with a courageous heart, sustained him. And in spite of the
poverty that had so suddenly overtaken them they walked without shame,
very poor and very great, with the sorrowful smile under which they
concealed the desolation of their souls. Workmen in dirty blouses passed
them by, who had more money in their pockets than they. No one ventured
to offer them the sou which is not refused to those who are hungry. At
the Rue Canoquin they stopped at the house of Gulraude. She had died
the week before. Two other attempts which they made failed. They were
reduced now to consider where they could borrow ten francs. They had
been walking about the town for three hours, but they could not resolve
to go home empty-handed.
Ah, this Plassans, with its Cours Sauvaire, its Rue de Rome, and its Rue
de la Banne, dividing it into three quarters; this Plassans; with its
windows always closed, this sun-baked town, dead in appearance, but
which concealed under this sleeping surface a whole nocturnal life of
the clubhouse and the gaming table. They walked through it three times
more with slackened pace, on this clear, calm close of a glowing August
day. In the yard of the coach office a few old stage-coaches, which
still plied between the town and the mountain villages, were standing
unharnessed; and under the thick shade of the plane trees at the doors
of the cafes, the customers, who were to be seen from seven oâclock
in the morning, looked after them smiling. In the new town, too, the
servants came and stood at the doors of the wealthy houses; they met
with less sympathy here than in the deserted streets of the Quartier St.
Marc, whose antique houses maintained a friendly silence. They returned
to the heart of the old quarter where they were most liked; they went as
far as St. Saturnin, the cathedral, whose apse was shaded by the garden
of the chapter, a sweet and peaceful solitude, from which a beggar drove
them by himself asking an alms from them. They were building rapidly in
the neighborhood of the railway station; a new quarter was growing up
there, and they bent their steps in that direction. Then they returned a
last time to the Place de la Sous-Prefecture, with a sudden reawakening
of hope, thinking that they might meet some one who would offer them
money. But they were followed only by the indulgent smile of the town,
at seeing them so united and so beautiful. Only one woman had tears in
her eyes, foreseeing, perhaps, the sufferings that awaited them. The
stones of the Viorne, the little sharp paving stones, wounded their
feet. And they had at last to return to La Souleiade, without having
succeeded in obtaining anything, the old mendicant king and his
submissive subject; Abishag, in the flower of her youth, leading back
David, old and despoiled of his wealth, and weary from having walked the
streets in vain.
It was eight oâclock, and Martine, who was waiting for them,
comprehended that she would have no cooking to do this evening. She
pretended that she had dined, and as she looked ill Pascal sent her at
once to bed.
âWe do not need you,â said Clotilde. âAs the potatoes are on the fire we
can take them up very well ourselves.â
The servant, who was feverish and out of humor, yielded. She muttered
some indistinct words--when people had eaten up everything what was the
use of sitting down to table? Then, before shutting herself into her
room, she added:
âMonsieur, there is no more hay for Bonhomme. I thought he was looking
badly a little while ago; monsieur ought to go and see him.â
Pascal and Clotilde, filled with uneasiness, went to the stable. The old
horse was, in fact, lying on the straw in the somnolence of expiring old
age. They had not taken him out for six months past, for his legs, stiff
with rheumatism, refused to support him, and he had become completely
blind. No one could understand why the doctor kept the old beast.
Even Martine had at last said that he ought to be slaughtered, if only
through pity. But Pascal and Clotilde cried out at this, as much excited
as if it had been proposed to them to put an end to some aged relative
who was not dying fast enough. No, no, he had served them for more than
a quarter of a century; he should die comfortably with them, like the
worthy fellow he had always been. And to-night the doctor did not scorn
to examine him, as if he had never attended any other patients than
animals. He lifted up his hoofs, looked at his gums, and listened to the
beating of his heart.
âNo, there is nothing the matter with him,â he said at last. âIt is
simply old age. Ah, my poor old fellow, I think, indeed, we shall never
again travel the roads together.â
The idea that there was no more hay distressed Clotilde. But Pascal
reassured her--an animal of that age, that no longer moved about, needed
so little. She stooped down and took a few handfuls of grass from a heap
which the servant had left there, and both were rejoiced when Bonhomme
deigned, solely and simply through friendship, as it seemed, to eat the
grass out of her hand.
âOh,â she said, laughing, âso you still have an appetite! You cannot be
very sick, then; you must not try to work upon our feelings. Good night,
and sleep well.â
And they left him to his slumbers after having each given him, as usual,
a hearty kiss on either side of his nose.
Night fell, and an idea occurred to them, in order not to remain
downstairs in the empty house--to close up everything and eat their
dinner upstairs. Clotilde quickly took up the dish of potatoes, the
salt-cellar, and a fine decanter of water; while Pascal took charge of
a basket of grapes, the first which they had yet gathered from an early
vine at the foot of the terrace. They closed the door, and laid the
cloth on a little table, putting the potatoes in the middle between the
salt-cellar and the decanter, and the basket of grapes on a chair beside
them. And it was a wonderful feast, which reminded them of the delicious
breakfast they had made on the morning on which Martine had obstinately
shut herself up in her room, and refused to answer them. They
experienced the same delight as then at being alone, at waiting upon
themselves, at eating from the same plate, sitting close beside each
other. This evening, which they had anticipated with so much dread, had
in store for them the most delightful hours of their existence. As soon
as they found themselves at home in the large friendly room, as far
removed from the town which they had just been scouring as if they had
been a hundred leagues away from it, all uneasiness and all sadness
vanished--even to the recollection of the wretched afternoon wasted in
useless wanderings. They were once more indifferent to all that was
not their affection; they no longer remembered that they had lost their
fortune; that they might have to hunt up a friend on the morrow in order
to be able to dine in the evening. Why torture themselves with fears
of coming want, when all they required to enjoy the greatest possible
happiness was to be together?
But Pascal felt a sudden terror.
âMy God! and we dreaded this evening so greatly! Is it wise to be happy
in this way? Who knows what to-morrow may have in store for us?â
But she put her little hand over his mouth; she desired that he should
have one more evening of perfect happiness.
âNo, no; to-morrow we shall love each other as we love each other
to-day. Love me with all your strength, as I love you.â
And never had they eaten with more relish. She displayed the appetite of
a healthy young girl with a good digestion; she ate the potatoes with a
hearty appetite, laughing, thinking them delicious, better than the
most vaunted delicacies. He, too, recovered the appetite of his youthful
days. They drank with delight deep draughts of pure water. Then the
grapes for dessert filled them with admiration; these grapes so fresh,
this blood of the earth which the sun had touched with gold. They ate
to excess; they became drunk on water and fruit, and more than all on
gaiety. They did not remember ever before to have enjoyed such a feast
together; even the famous breakfast they had made, with its luxuries of
cutlets and bread and wine, had not given them this intoxication, this
joy in living, when to be together was happiness enough, changing the
china to dishes of gold, and the miserable food to celestial fare such
as not even the gods enjoyed.
It was now quite dark, but they did not light the lamp. Through the
wide open windows they could see the vast summer sky. The night breeze
entered, still warm and laden with a faint odor of lavender. The moon
had just risen above the horizon, large and round, flooding the room
with a silvery light, in which they saw each other as in a dream light
infinitely bright and sweet.
XI.
But on the following day their disquietude all returned. They were now
obliged to go in debt. Martine obtained on credit bread, wine, and
a little meat, much to her shame, be it said, forced as she was to
maneuver and tell lies, for no one was ignorant of the ruin that had
overtaken the house. The doctor had indeed thought of mortgaging La
Souleiade, but only as a last resource. All he now possessed was this
property, which was worth twenty thousand francs, but for which he would
perhaps not get fifteen thousand, if he should sell it; and when these
should be spent black want would be before them, the street, without
even a stone of their own on which to lay their heads. Clotilde
therefore begged Pascal to wait and not to take any irrevocable step so
long as things were not utterly desperate.
Three or four days passed. It was the beginning of September, and
the weather unfortunately changed; terrible storms ravaged the entire
country; a part of the garden wall was blown down, and as Pascal was
unable to rebuild it, the yawning breach remained. Already they were
beginning to be rude at the bakerâs. And one morning the old servant
came home with the meat from the butcherâs in tears, saying that he had
given her the refuse. A few days more and they would be unable to obtain
anything on credit. It had become absolutely necessary to consider how
they should find the money for their small daily expenses.
One Monday morning, the beginning of another week of torture, Clotilde
was very restless. A struggle seemed to be going on within her, and it
was only when she saw Pascal refuse at breakfast his share of a piece of
beef which had been left over from the day before that she at last came
to a decision. Then with a calm and resolute air, she went out after
breakfast with Martine, after quietly putting into the basket of the
latter a little package--some articles of dress which she was giving
her, she said.
When she returned two hours later she was very pale. But her large eyes,
so clear and frank, were shining. She went up to the doctor at once and
made her confession.
âI must ask your forgiveness, master, for I have just been disobeying
you, and I know that I am going to pain you greatly.â
âWhy, what have you been doing?â he asked uneasily, not understanding
what she meant.
Slowly, without removing her eyes from him, she drew from her pocket
an envelope, from which she took some bank-notes. A sudden intuition
enlightened him, and he cried:
âAh, my God! the jewels, the presents I gave you!â
And he, who was usually so good-tempered and gentle, was convulsed with
grief and anger. He seized her hands in his, crushing with almost brutal
force the fingers which held the notes.
âMy God! what have you done, unhappy girl? It is my heart that you have
sold, both our hearts, that had entered into those jewels, which
you have given with them for money! The jewels which I gave you, the
souvenirs of our divinest hours, your property, yours only, how can
you wish me to take them back, to turn them to my profit? Can it be
possible--have you thought of the anguish that this would give me?â
âAnd you, master,â she answered gently, âdo you think that I could
consent to our remaining in the unhappy situation in which we are, in
want of everything, while I had these rings and necklaces and earrings
laid away in the bottom of a drawer? Why, my whole being would rise in
protest. I should think myself a miser, a selfish wretch, if I had
kept them any longer. And, although it was a grief for me to part with
them--ah, yes, I confess it, so great a grief that I could hardly find
the courage to do it--I am certain that I have only done what I ought to
have done as an obedient and loving woman.â
And as he still grasped her hands, tears came to her eyes, and she added
in the same gentle voice and with a faint smile:
âDonât press so hard; you hurt me.â
Then repentant and deeply moved, Pascal, too, wept.
âI am a brute to get angry in this way. You acted rightly; you could
not do otherwise. But forgive me; it was hard for me to see you despoil
yourself. Give me your hands, your poor hands, and let me kiss away the
marks of my stupid violence.â
He took her hands again in his tenderly; he covered them with kisses; he
thought them inestimably precious, so delicate and bare, thus
stripped of their rings. Consoled now, and joyous, she told him of her
escapade--how she had taken Martine into her confidence, and how both
had gone to the dealer who had sold him the corsage of point dâAlencon,
and how after interminable examining and bargaining the woman had given
six thousand francs for all the jewels. Again he repressed a gesture
of despair--six thousand francs! when the jewels had cost him more than
three times that amount--twenty thousand francs at the very least.
âListen,â he said to her at last; âI will take this money, since, in
the goodness of your heart, you have brought it to me. But it is clearly
understood that it is yours. I swear to you that I will, for the future,
be more miserly than Martine herself. I will give her only the few sous
that are absolutely necessary for our maintenance, and you will find in
the desk all that may be left of this sum, if I should never be able to
complete it and give it back to you entire.â
He clasped her in an embrace that still trembled with emotion.
Presently, lowering his voice to a whisper, he said:
âAnd did you sell everything, absolutely everything?â
Without speaking, she disengaged herself a little from his embrace,
and put her fingers to her throat, with her pretty gesture, smiling and
blushing. Finally, she drew out the slender chain on which shone the
seven pearls, like milky stars. Then she put it back again out of sight.
He, too, blushed, and a great joy filled his heart. He embraced her
passionately.
âAh!â he cried, âhow good you are, and how I love you!â
But from this time forth the recollection of the jewels which had been
sold rested like a weight upon his heart; and he could not look at
the money in his desk without pain. He was haunted by the thought
of approaching want, inevitable want, and by a still more bitter
thought--the thought of his age, of his sixty years which rendered him
useless, incapable of earning a comfortable living for a wife; he had
been suddenly and rudely awakened from his illusory dream of eternal
love to the disquieting reality. He had fallen unexpectedly into
poverty, and he felt himself very old--this terrified him and filled him
with a sort of remorse, of desperate rage against himself, as if he had
been guilty of a crime. And this embittered his every hour; if through
momentary forgetfulness he permitted himself to indulge in a little
gaiety his distress soon returned with greater poignancy than ever,
bringing with it a sudden and inexplicable sadness. He did not dare to
question himself, and his dissatisfaction with himself and his suffering
increased every day.
Then a frightful revelation came to him. One morning, when he was alone,
he received a letter bearing the Plassans postmark, the superscription
on which he examined with surprise, not recognizing the writing. This
letter was not signed; and after reading a few lines he made an
angry movement as if to tear it up and throw it away; but he sat down
trembling instead, and read it to the end. The style was perfectly
courteous; the long phrases rolled on, measured and carefully worded,
like diplomatic phrases, whose only aim is to convince. It was
demonstrated to him with a superabundance of arguments that the scandal
of La Souleiade had lasted too long already. If passion, up to a certain
point, explained the fault, yet a man of his age and in his situation
was rendering himself contemptible by persisting in wrecking the
happiness of the young relative whose trustfulness he abused. No one
was ignorant of the ascendency which he had acquired over her; it was
admitted that she gloried in sacrificing herself for him; but ought he
not, on his side, to comprehend that it was impossible that she should
love an old man, that what she felt was merely pity and gratitude, and
that it was high time to deliver her from this senile love, which would
finally leave her with a dishonored name! Since he could not even assure
her a small fortune, the writer hoped he would act like an honorable
man, and have the strength to separate from her, through consideration
for her happiness, if it were not yet too late. And the letter concluded
with the reflection that evil conduct was always punished in the end.
From the first sentence Pascal felt that this anonymous letter came from
his mother. Old Mme. Rougon must have dictated it; he could hear in it
the very inflections of her voice. But after having begun the letter
angry and indignant, he finished it pale and trembling, seized by the
shiver which now passed through him continually and without apparent
cause. The letter was right, it enlightened him cruelly regarding the
source of his mental distress, showing him that it was remorse for
keeping Clotilde with him, old and poor as he was. He got up and walked
over to a mirror, before which he stood for a long time, his eyes
gradually filling with tears of despair at sight of his wrinkles and his
white beard. The feeling of terror which arose within him, the mortal
chill which invaded his heart, was caused by the thought that separation
had become necessary, inevitable. He repelled the thought, he felt
that he would never have the strength for a separation, but it still
returned; he would never now pass a single day without being assailed by
it, without being torn by the struggle between his love and his reason
until the terrible day when he should become resigned, his strength and
his tears exhausted. In his present weakness, he trembled merely at the
thought of one day having this courage. And all was indeed over, the
irrevocable had begun; he was filled with fear for Clotilde, so young
and so beautiful, and all there was left him now was the duty of saving
her from himself.
Then, haunted by every word, by every phrase of the letter, he tortured
himself at first by trying to persuade himself that she did not love
him, that all she felt for him was pity and gratitude. It would make the
rupture more easy to him, he thought, if he were once convinced that she
sacrificed herself, and that in keeping her with him longer he was only
gratifying his monstrous selfishness. But it was in vain that he studied
her, that he subjected her to proofs, she remained as tender and devoted
as ever, making the dreaded decision still more difficult. Then he
pondered over all the causes that vaguely, but ceaselessly urged their
separation. The life which they had been leading for months past, this
life without ties or duties, without work of any sort, was not good. He
thought no longer of himself, he considered himself good for nothing now
but to go away and bury himself out of sight in some remote corner; but
for her was it not an injurious life, a life which would deteriorate
her character and weaken her will? And suddenly he saw himself in fancy
dying, leaving her alone to perish of hunger in the streets. No, no!
this would be a crime; he could not, for the sake of the happiness
of his few remaining days, bequeath to her this heritage of shame and
misery.
One morning Clotilde went for a walk in the neighborhood, from which she
returned greatly agitated, pale and trembling, and as soon as she
was upstairs in the workroom, she almost fainted in Pascalâs arms,
faltering:
âOh, my God! oh, my God! those women!â
Terrified, he pressed her with questions.
âCome, tell me! What has happened?â
A flush mounted to her face. She flung her arms around his neck and hid
her head on his shoulder.
âIt was those women! Reaching a shady spot, I was closing my parasol,
and I had the misfortune to throw down a child. And they all rose
against me, crying out such things, oh, such things--things that I
cannot repeat, that I could not understand!â
She burst into sobs. He was livid; he could find nothing to say to her;
he kissed her wildly, weeping like herself. He pictured to himself
the whole scene; he saw her pursued, hooted at, reviled. Presently he
faltered:
âIt is my fault, it is through me you suffer. Listen, we will go away
from here, far, far away, where we shall not be known, where you will be
honored, where you will be happy.â
But seeing him weep, she recovered her calmness by a violent effort. And
drying her tears, she said:
âAh! I have behaved like a coward in telling you all this. After
promising myself that I would say nothing of it to you. But when I found
myself at home again, my anguish was so great that it all came out. But
you see now it is all over, donât grieve about it. I love you.â
She smiled, and putting her arms about him she kissed him in her turn,
trying to soothe his despair.
âI love you. I love you so dearly that it will console me for
everything. There is only you in the world, what matters anything that
is not you? You are so good; you make me so happy!â
But he continued to weep, and she, too, began to weep again, and there
was a moment of infinite sadness, of anguish, in which they mingled
their kisses and their tears.
Pascal, when she left him alone for an instant, thought himself a
wretch. He could no longer be the cause of misfortune to this child,
whom he adored. And on the evening of the same day an event took place
which brought about the solution hitherto sought in vain, with the fear
of finding it. After dinner Martine beckoned him aside, and gave him a
letter, with all sorts of precautions, saying:
âI met Mme. Felicite, and she charged me to give you this letter,
monsieur, and she told me to tell you that she would have brought it
to you herself, only that regard for her reputation prevented her
from returning here. She begs you to send her back M. Maximeâs letter,
letting her know mademoiselleâs answer.â
It was, in fact, a letter from Maxime, and Mme. Felicite, glad to have
received it, used it as a new means of conquering her son, after having
waited in vain for misery to deliver him up to her, repentant and
imploring. As neither Pascal nor Clotilde had come to demand aid or
succor from her, she had once more changed her plan, returning to her
old idea of separating them; and, this time, the opportunity seemed
to her decisive. Maximeâs letter was a pressing one; he urged his
grandmother to plead his cause with his sister. Ataxia had declared
itself; he was able to walk now only leaning on his servantâs arm. His
solitude terrified him, and he urgently entreated his sister to come to
him. He wished to have her with him as a rampart against his fatherâs
abominable designs; as a sweet and upright woman after all, who would
take care of him. The letter gave it to be understood that if she
conducted herself well toward him she would have no reason to repent it;
and ended by reminding the young girl of the promise she had made him,
at the time of his visit to Plassans, to come to him, if the day ever
arrived when he really needed her.
Pascal turned cold. He read the four pages over again. Here an
opportunity to separate presented itself, acceptable to him and
advantageous for Clotilde, so easy and so natural that they ought to
accept it at once; yet, in spite of all his reasoning he felt so weak,
so irresolute still that his limbs trembled under him, and he was
obliged to sit down for a moment. But he wished to be heroic, and
controlling himself, he called to his companion.
âHere!â he said, âread this letter which your grandmother has sent me.â
Clotilde read the letter attentively to the end without a word, without
a sign. Then she said simply:
âWell, you are going to answer it, are you not? I refuse.â
He was obliged to exercise a strong effort of self-control to avoid
uttering a great cry of joy, as he pressed her to his heart. As if it
were another person who spoke, he heard himself saying quietly:
âYou refuse--impossible! You must reflect. Let us wait till to-morrow to
give an answer; and let us talk it over, shall we?â
Surprised, she cried excitedly:
âPart from each other! and why? And would you really consent to it? What
folly! we love each other, and you would have me leave you and go away
where no one cares for me! How could you think of such a thing? It would
be stupid.â
He avoided touching on this side of the question, and hastened to speak
of promises made--of duty.
âRemember, my dear, how greatly affected you were when I told you that
Maxime was in danger. And think of him now, struck down by disease,
helpless and alone, calling you to his side. Can you abandon him in that
situation? You have a duty to fulfil toward him.â
âA duty?â she cried. âHave I any duties toward a brother who has never
occupied himself with me? My only duty is where my heart is.â
âBut you have promised. I have promised for you. I have said that you
were rational, and you are not going to belie my words.â
âRational? It is you who are not rational. It is not rational to
separate when to do so would make us both die of grief.â
And with an angry gesture she closed the discussion, saying:
âBesides, what is the use of talking about it? There is nothing simpler;
it is only necessary to say a single word. Answer me. Are you tired of
me? Do you wish to send me away?â
He uttered a cry.
âSend you away! I! Great God!â
âThen it is all settled. If you do not send me away I shall remain.â
She laughed now, and, running to her desk, wrote in red pencil across
her brotherâs letter two words--âI refuse;â then she called Martine and
insisted upon her taking the letter back at once. Pascal was radiant;
a wave of happiness so intense inundated his being that he let her have
her way. The joy of keeping her with him deprived him even of his power
of reasoning.
But that very night, what remorse did he not feel for having been so
cowardly! He had again yielded to his longing for happiness. A deathlike
sweat broke out upon him when he saw her in imagination far away;
himself alone, without her, without that caressing and subtle essence
that pervaded the atmosphere when she was near; her breath, her
brightness, her courageous rectitude, and the dear presence, physical
and mental, which had now become as necessary to his life as the light
of day itself. She must leave him, and he must find the strength to
die of it. He despised himself for his want of courage, he judged the
situation with terrible clear-sightedness. All was ended. An honorable
existence and a fortune awaited her with her brother; he could not carry
his senile selfishness so far as to keep her any longer in the misery in
which he was, to be scorned and despised. And fainting at the thought of
all he was losing, he swore to himself that he would be strong, that he
would not accept the sacrifice of this child, that he would restore her
to happiness and to life, in her own despite.
And now the struggle of self-abnegation began. Some days passed; he
had demonstrated to her so clearly the rudeness of her âI refuse,â on
Maximeâs letter, that she had written a long letter to her grandmother,
explaining to her the reasons for her refusal. But still she would not
leave La Souleiade. As Pascal had grown extremely parsimonious, in his
desire to trench as little as possible on the money obtained by the sale
of the jewels, she surpassed herself, eating her dry bread with merry
laughter. One morning he surprised her giving lessons of economy to
Martine. Twenty times a day she would look at him intently and then
throw herself on his neck and cover his face with kisses, to combat the
dreadful idea of a separation, which she saw always in his eyes. Then
she had another argument. One evening after dinner he was seized with a
palpitation of the heart, and almost fainted. This surprised him; he had
never suffered from the heart, and he believed it to be simply a return
of his old nervous trouble. Since his great happiness he had felt less
strong, with an odd sensation, as if some delicate hidden spring had
snapped within him. Greatly alarmed, she hurried to his assistance.
Well! now he would no doubt never speak again of her going away. When
one loved people, and they were ill, one stayed with them to take care
of them.
The struggle thus became a daily, an hourly one. It was a continual
assault made by affection, by devotion, by self-abnegation, in the one
desire for anotherâs happiness. But while her kindness and tenderness
made the thought of her departure only the more cruel for Pascal,
he felt every day more and more strongly the necessity for it. His
resolution was now taken. But he remained at bay, trembling and
hesitating as to the means of persuading her. He pictured to himself her
despair, her tears; what should he do? how should he tell her? how could
they bring themselves to give each other a last embrace, never to see
each other again? And the days passed, and he could think of nothing,
and he began once more to accuse himself of cowardice.
Sometimes she would say jestingly, with a touch of affectionate malice:
âMaster, you are too kind-hearted not to keep me.â
But this vexed him; he grew excited, and with gloomy despair answered:
âNo, no! donât talk of my kindness. If I were really kind you would have
been long ago with your brother, leading an easy and honorable life,
with a bright and tranquil future before you, instead of obstinately
remaining here, despised, poor, and without any prospect, to be the sad
companion of an old fool like me! No, I am nothing but a coward and a
dishonorable man!â
She hastily stopped him. And it was in truth his kindness of heart,
above all, that bled, that immense kindness of heart which sprang from
his love of life, which he diffused over persons and things, in his
continual care for the happiness of every one and everything. To be
kind, was not this to love her, to make her happy, at the price of his
own happiness? This was the kindness which it was necessary for him to
exercise, and which he felt that he would one day exercise, heroic and
decisive. But like the wretch who has resolved upon suicide, he waited
for the opportunity, the hour, and the means, to carry out his design.
Early one morning, on going into the workroom, Clotilde was surprised
to see Dr. Pascal seated at his table. It was many weeks since he had
either opened a book or touched a pen.
âWhy! you are working?â she said.
Without raising his head he answered absently:
âYes; this is the genealogical tree that I had not even brought up to
date.â
She stood behind him for a few moments, looking at him writing. He was
completing the notices of Aunt Dide, of Uncle Macquart, and of little
Charles, writing the dates of their death. Then, as he did not stir,
seeming not to know that she was there, waiting for the kisses and the
smiles of other mornings, she walked idly over to the window and back
again.
âSo you are in earnest,â she said, âyou are really working?â
âCertainly; you see I ought to have noted down these deaths last month.
And I have a heap of work waiting there for me.â
She looked at him fixedly, with that steady inquiring gaze with which
she sought to read his thoughts.
âVery well, let us work. If you have papers to examine, or notes to
copy, give them to me.â
And from this day forth he affected to give himself up entirely to work.
Besides, it was one of his theories that absolute rest was unprofitable,
that it should never be prescribed, even to the overworked. As the fish
lives in the water, so a man lives only in the external medium which
surrounds him, the sensations which he receives from it transforming
themselves in him into impulses, thoughts, and acts; so that if there
were absolute rest, if he continued to receive sensations without giving
them out again, digested and transformed, an engorgement would result, a
_malaise_, an inevitable loss of equilibrium. For himself he had always
found work to be the best regulator of his existence. Even on the
mornings when he felt ill, if he set to work he recovered his equipoise.
He never felt better than when he was engaged on some long work,
methodically planned out beforehand, so many pages to so many hours
every morning, and he compared this work to a balancing-pole, which
enabled him to maintain his equilibrium in the midst of daily miseries,
weaknesses, and mistakes. So that he attributed entirely to the idleness
in which he had been living for some weeks past, the palpitation which
at times made him feel as if he were going to suffocate. If he wished to
recover his health he had only to take up again his great work.
And Pascal spent hours developing and explaining these theories to
Clotilde, with a feverish and exaggerated enthusiasm. He seemed to be
once more possessed by the love of knowledge and study in which, up
to the time of his sudden passion for her, he had spent his life
exclusively. He repeated to her that he could not leave his work
unfinished, that he had still a great deal to do, if he desired to leave
a lasting monument behind him. His anxiety about the envelopes seemed
to have taken possession of him again; he opened the large press twenty
times a day, taking them down from the upper shelf and enriching them
by new notes. His ideas on heredity were already undergoing a
transformation; he would have liked to review the whole, to recast the
whole, to deduce from the family history, natural and social, a vast
synthesis, a resume, in broad strokes, of all humanity. Then, besides,
he reviewed his method of treatment by hypodermic injections, with the
purpose of amplifying it--a confused vision of a new therapeutics;
a vague and remote theory based on his convictions and his personal
experience of the beneficent dynamic influence of work.
Now every morning, when he seated himself at his table, he would lament:
âI shall not live long enough; life is too short.â
He seemed to feel that he must not lose another hour. And one morning
he looked up abruptly and said to his companion, who was copying a
manuscript at his side:
âListen well, Clotilde. If I should die--â
âWhat an idea!â she protested, terrified.
âIf I should die,â he resumed, âlisten to me well--close all the doors
immediately. You are to keep the envelopes, you, you only. And when you
have collected all my other manuscripts, send them to Ramond. These are
my last wishes, do you hear?â
But she refused to listen to him.
âNo, no!â she cried hastily, âyou talk nonsense!â
âClotilde, swear to me that you will keep the envelopes, and that you
will send all my other papers to Ramond.â
At last, now very serious, and her eyes filled with tears, she gave
him the promise he desired. He caught her in his arms, he, too, deeply
moved, and lavished caresses upon her, as if his heart had all at once
reopened to her. Presently he recovered his calmness, and spoke of his
fears. Since he had been trying to work they seemed to have returned. He
kept constant watch upon the press, pretending to have observed Martine
prowling about it. Might they not work upon the fanaticism of this girl,
and urge her to a bad action, persuading her that she was securing her
masterâs eternal welfare? He had suffered so much from suspicion! In the
dread of approaching solitude his former tortures returned--the tortures
of the scientist, who is menaced and persecuted by his own, at his own
fireside, in his very flesh, in the work of his brain.
One evening, when he was again discussing this subject with Clotilde, he
said unthinkingly:
âYou know that when you are no longer here--â
She turned very pale and, as he stopped with a start, she cried:
âOh, master, master, you have not given up that dreadful idea, then?
I can see in your eyes that you are hiding something from me, that you
have a thought which you no longer share with me. But if I go away and
you should die, who will be here then to protect your work?â
Thinking that she had become reconciled, to the idea of her departure,
he had the strength to answer gaily:
âDo you suppose that I would allow myself to die without seeing you once
more. I will write to you, of course. You must come back to close my
eyes.â
Now she burst out sobbing, and sank into a chair.
âMy God! Can it be! You wish that to-morrow we should be together no
longer, we who have never been separated!â
From this day forth Pascal seemed more engrossed than ever in his
work. He would sit for four or five hours at a time, whole mornings and
afternoons, without once raising his head. He overacted his zeal.
He would allow no one to disturb him, by so much as a word. And when
Clotilde would leave the room on tiptoe to give an order downstairs or
to go on some errand, he would assure himself by a furtive glance that
she was gone, and then let his head drop on the table, with an air
of profound dejection. It was a painful relief from the extraordinary
effort which he compelled himself to make when she was present; to
remain at his table, instead of going over and taking her in his arms
and covering her face with sweet kisses. Ah, work! how ardently he
called on it as his only refuge from torturing thoughts. But for the
most part he was unable to work; he was obliged to feign attention,
keeping his eyes fixed upon the page, his sorrowful eyes that grew dim
with tears, while his mind, confused, distracted, filled always with one
image, suffered the pangs of death. Was he then doomed to see work fail
now its effect, he who had always considered it of sovereign power,
the creator and ruler of the world? Must he then throw away his pen,
renounce action, and do nothing in future but exist? And tears would
flow down his white beard; and if he heard Clotilde coming upstairs
again he would seize his pen quickly, in order that she might find him
as she had left him, buried seemingly in profound meditation, when his
mind was now only an aching void.
It was now the middle of September; two weeks that had seemed
interminable had passed in this distressing condition of things, without
bringing any solution, when one morning Clotilde was greatly surprised
by seeing her grandmother, Felicite, enter. Pascal had met his mother
the day before in the Rue de la Banne, and, impatient to consummate the
sacrifice, and not finding in himself the strength to make the rupture,
he had confided in her, in spite of his repugnance, and begged her to
come on the following day. As it happened, she had just received another
letter from Maxime, a despairing and imploring letter.
She began by explaining her presence.
âYes, it is I, my dear, and you can understand that only very weighty
reasons could have induced me to set my foot here again. But, indeed,
you are getting crazy; I cannot allow you to ruin your life in this way,
without making a last effort to open your eyes.â
She then read Maximeâs letter in a tearful voice. He was nailed to an
armchair. It seemed he was suffering from a form of ataxia, rapid in its
progress and very painful. Therefore he requested a decided answer
from his sister, hoping still that she would come, and trembling at the
thought of being compelled to seek another nurse. This was what he would
be obliged to do, however, if they abandoned him in his sad condition.
And when she had finished reading the letter she hinted that it would be
a great pity to let Maximeâs fortune pass into the hands of strangers;
but, above all, she spoke of duty; of the assistance one owed to a
relation, she, too, affecting to believe that a formal promise had been
given.
âCome, my dear, call upon your memory. You told him that if he should
ever need you, you would go to him; I can hear you saying it now. Was it
not so, my son?â
Pascal, his face pale, his head slightly bent, had kept silence since
his motherâs entrance, leaving her to act. He answered only by an
affirmative nod.
Then Felicite went over all the arguments that he himself had employed
to persuade Clotilde--the dreadful scandal, to which insult was now
added; impending want, so hard for them both; the impossibility of
continuing the life they were leading. What future could they hope for,
now that they had been overtaken by poverty? It was stupid and cruel to
persist longer in her obstinate refusal.
Clotilde, standing erect and with an impenetrable countenance, remained
silent, refusing even to discuss the question. But as her grandmother
tormented her to give an answer, she said at last:
âOnce more, I have no duty whatever toward my brother; my duty is here.
He can dispose of his fortune as he chooses; I want none of it. When
we are too poor, master shall send away Martine and keep me as his
servant.â
Old Mme. Rougon wagged her chin.
âBefore being his servant it would be better if you had begun by being
his wife. Why have you not got married? It would have been simpler and
more proper.â
And Felicite reminded her how she had come one day to urge this
marriage, in order to put an end to gossip, and how the young girl had
seemed greatly surprised, saying that neither she nor the doctor had
thought of it, but that, notwithstanding, they would get married later
on, if necessary, for there was no hurry.
âGet married; I am quite willing!â cried Clotilde. âYou are right,
grandmother.â
And turning to Pascal:
âYou have told me a hundred times that you would do whatever I wished.
Marry me; do you hear? I will be your wife, and I will stay here. A wife
does not leave her husband.â
But he answered only by a gesture, as if he feared that his voice
would betray him, and that he should accept, in a cry of gratitude, the
eternal bond which she had proposed to him. His gesture might signify a
hesitation, a refusal. What was the good of this marriage _in extremis_,
when everything was falling to pieces?
âThose are very fine sentiments, no doubt,â returned Felicite. âYou have
settled it all in your own little head. But marriage will not give you
an income; and, meantime, you are a great expense to him; you are the
heaviest of his burdens.â
The effect which these words had upon Clotilde was extraordinary. She
turned violently to Pascal, her cheeks crimson, her eyes filled with
tears.
âMaster, master! is what grandmother has just said true? Has it come to
this, that you regret the money I cost you here?â
Pascal grew still paler; he remained motionless, in an attitude of utter
dejection. But in a far-away voice, as if he were talking to himself, he
murmured:
âI have so much work to do! I should like to go over my envelopes, my
manuscripts, my notes, and complete the work of my life. If I were
alone perhaps I might be able to arrange everything. I would sell La
Souleiade, oh! for a crust of bread, for it is not worth much. I should
shut myself and my papers in a little room. I should work from morning
till night, and I should try not to be too unhappy.â
But he avoided her glance; and, agitated as she was, these painful and
stammering utterances were not calculated to satisfy her. She grew every
moment more and more terrified, for she felt that the irrevocable word
was about to be spoken.
âLook at me, master, look me in the face. And I conjure you, be brave,
choose between your work and me, since you say, it seems, that you send
me away that you may work the better.â
The moment for the heroic falsehood had come. He lifted his head and
looked her bravely in the face, and with the smile of a dying man who
desires death, recovering his voice of divine goodness, he said:
âHow excited you get! Can you not do your duty quietly, like everybody
else? I have a great deal of work to do, and I need to be alone; and
you, dear, you ought to go to your brother. Go then, everything is
ended.â
There was a terrible silence for the space of a few seconds. She looked
at him earnestly, hoping that he would change his mind. Was he really
speaking the truth? was he not sacrificing himself in order that she
might be happy? For a moment she had an intuition that this was the
case, as if some subtle breath, emanating from him, had warned her of
it.
âAnd you are sending me away forever? You will not permit me to come
back to-morrow?â
But he held out bravely; with another smile he seemed to answer that
when one went away like this it was not to come back again on the
following day. She was now completely bewildered; she knew not what to
think. It might be possible that he had chosen work sincerely; that the
man of science had gained the victory over the lover. She grew still
paler, and she waited a little longer, in the terrible silence; then,
slowly, with her air of tender and absolute submission, she said:
âVery well, master, I will go away whenever you wish, and I will not
return until you send for me.â
The die was cast. The irrevocable was accomplished. Each felt that
neither would attempt to recall the decision that had been made; and,
from this instant, every minute that passed would bring nearer the
separation.
Felicite, surprised at not being obliged to say more, at once desired
to fix the time for Clotildeâs departure. She applauded herself for her
tenacity; she thought she had gained the victory by main force. It
was now Friday, and it was settled that Clotilde should leave on the
following Sunday. A despatch was even sent to Maxime.
For the past three days the mistral had been blowing. But on this
evening its fury was redoubled, and Martine declared, in accordance with
the popular belief, that it would last for three days longer. The winds
at the end of September, in the valley of the Viorne, are terrible. So
that the servant took care to go into every room in the house to assure
herself that the shutters were securely fastened. When the mistral blew
it caught La Souleiade slantingly, above the roofs of the houses of
Plassans, on the little plateau on which the house was built. And now it
raged and beat against the house, shaking it from garret to cellar, day
and night, without a momentâs cessation. The tiles were blown off, the
fastenings of the windows were torn away, while the wind, entering the
crevices, moaned and sobbed wildly through the house; and the doors, if
they were left open for a moment, through forgetfulness, slammed to with
a noise like the report of a cannon. They might have fancied they were
sustaining a siege, so great were the noise and the discomfort.
It was in this melancholy house shaken by the storm that Pascal, on
the following day, helped Clotilde to make her preparations for her
departure. Old Mme. Rougon was not to return until Sunday, to say
good-by. When Martine was informed of the approaching separation,
she stood still in dumb amazement, and a flash, quickly extinguished,
lighted her eyes; and as they sent her out of the room, saying that they
would not require her assistance in packing the trunks, she returned
to the kitchen and busied herself in her usual occupations, seeming to
ignore the catastrophe which was about to revolutionize their household
of three. But at Pascalâs slightest call she would run so promptly and
with such alacrity, her face so bright and so cheerful, in her zeal
to serve him, that she seemed like a young girl. Pascal did not leave
Clotilde for a moment, helping her, desiring to assure himself that she
was taking with her everything she could need. Two large trunks stood
open in the middle of the disordered room; bundles and articles of
clothing lay about everywhere; twenty times the drawers and the presses
had been visited. And in this work, this anxiety to forget nothing, the
painful sinking of the heart which they both felt was in some measure
lessened. They forgot for an instant--he watching carefully to see that
no space was lost, utilizing the hat-case for the smaller articles of
clothing, slipping boxes in between the folds of the linen; while she,
taking down the gowns, folded them on the bed, waiting to put them
last in the top tray. Then, when a little tired they stood up and found
themselves again face to face, they would smile at each other at first;
then choke back the sudden tears that started at the recollection of the
impending and inevitable misfortune. But though their hearts bled they
remained firm. Good God! was it then true that they were to be no
longer together? And then they heard the wind, the terrible wind, which
threatened to blow down the house.
How many times during this last day did they not go over to the window,
attracted by the storm, wishing that it would sweep away the world.
During these squalls the sun did not cease to shine, the sky remained
constantly blue, but a livid blue, windswept and dusty, and the sun was
a yellow sun, pale and cold. They saw in the distance the vast white
clouds rising from the roads, the trees bending before the blast,
looking as if they were flying all in the same direction, at the same
rate of speed; the whole country parched and exhausted by the unvarying
violence of the wind that blew ceaselessly, with a roar like thunder.
Branches were snapped and whirled out of sight; roofs were lifted up and
carried so far away that they were never afterward found. Why could not
the mistral take them all up together and carry them off to some unknown
land, where they might be happy? The trunks were almost packed when
Pascal went to open one of the shutters that the wind had blown to, but
so fierce a gust swept in through the half open window that Clotilde had
to go to his assistance. Leaning with all their weight, they were able
at last to turn the catch. The articles of clothing in the room were
blown about, and they gathered up in fragments a little hand mirror
which had fallen from a chair. Was this a sign of approaching death, as
the women of the faubourg said?
In the evening, after a mournful dinner in the bright dining-room,
with its great bouquets of flowers, Pascal said he would retire early.
Clotilde was to leave on the following morning by the ten oâclock
train, and he feared for her the long journey--twenty hours of railway
traveling. But when he had retired he was unable to sleep. At first he
thought it was the wind that kept him awake. The sleeping house was
full of cries, voices of entreaty and voices of anger, mingled together,
accompanied by endless sobbing. Twice he got up and went to listen at
Clotildeâs door, but he heard nothing. He went downstairs to close a
door that banged persistently, like misfortune knocking at the walls.
Gusts blew through the dark rooms, and he went to bed again, shivering
and haunted by lugubrious visions.
At six oâclock Martine, fancying she heard her master knocking for her
on the floor of his room, went upstairs. She entered the room with the
alert and excited expression which she had worn for the past two days;
but she stood still, astonished and uneasy, when she saw him lying,
half-dressed, across his bed, haggard, biting the pillow to stifle his
sobs. He got out of bed and tried to finish dressing himself, but a
fresh attack seized him, and, his head giddy and his heart palpitating
to suffocation, recovering from a momentary faintness, he faltered in
agonized tones:
âNo, no, I cannot; I suffer too much. I would rather die, die now--â
He recognized Martine, and abandoning himself to his grief, his strength
totally gone, he made his confession to her:
âMy poor girl, I suffer too much, my heart is breaking. She is taking
away my heart with her, she is taking away my whole being. I cannot live
without her. I almost died last night. I would be glad to die before her
departure, not to have the anguish of seeing her go away. Oh, my God!
she is going away, and I shall have her no longer, and I shall be left
alone, alone, alone!â
The servant, who had gone upstairs so gaily, turned as pale as wax, and
a hard and bitter look came into her face. For a moment she watched him
clutching the bedclothes convulsively, uttering hoarse cries of despair,
his face pressed against the coverlet. Then, by a violent effort, she
seemed to make up her mind.
âBut, monsieur, there is no sense in making trouble for yourself in
this way. It is ridiculous. Since that is how it is, and you cannot do
without mademoiselle, I shall go and tell her what a state you have let
yourself get into.â
At these words he got up hastily, staggering still, and, leaning for
support on the back of a chair, he cried:
âI positively forbid you to do so, Martine!â
âA likely thing that I should listen to you, seeing you like that! To
find you some other time half dead, crying your eyes out! No, no! I
shall go to mademoiselle and tell her the truth, and compel her to
remain with us.â
But he caught her angrily by the arm and held her fast.
âI command you to keep quiet, do you hear? Or you shall go with her!
Why did you come in? It was this wind that made me ill. That concerns no
one.â
Then, yielding to a good-natured impulse, with his usual kindness of
heart, he smiled.
âMy poor girl, see how you vex me? Let me act as I ought, for the
happiness of others. And not another word; you would pain me greatly.â
Martineâs eyes, too, filled with tears. It was just in time that they
made peace, for Clotilde entered almost immediately. She had risen
early, eager to see Pascal, hoping doubtless, up to the last moment,
that he would keep her. Her own eyelids were heavy from want of sleep,
and she looked at him steadily as she entered, with her inquiring air.
But he was still so discomposed that she began to grow uneasy.
âNo, indeed, I assure you, I would even have slept well but for the
mistral. I was just telling you so, Martine, was I not?â
The servant confirmed his words by an affirmative nod. And Clotilde,
too, submitted, saying nothing of the night of anguish and mental
conflict she had spent while he, on his side, had been suffering the
pangs of death. Both of the women now docilely obeyed and aided him, in
his heroic self-abnegation.
âWhat,â he continued, opening his desk, âI have something here for you.
There! there are seven hundred francs in that envelope.â
And in spite of her exclamations and protestations he persisted in
rendering her an account. Of the six thousand francs obtained by the
sale of the jewels two hundred only had been spent, and he had kept one
hundred to last till the end of the month, with the strict economy, the
penuriousness, which he now displayed. Afterward he would no doubt sell
La Souleiade, he would work, he would be able to extricate himself from
his difficulties. But he would not touch the five thousand francs which
remained, for they were her property, her own, and she would find them
again in the drawer.
âMaster, master, you are giving me a great deal of pain--â
âI wish it,â he interrupted, âand it is you who are trying to break my
heart. Come, it is half-past seven, I will go and cord your trunks since
they are locked.â
When Martine and Clotilde were alone and face to face they looked at
each other for a moment in silence. Ever since the commencement of the
new situation, they had been fully conscious of their secret antagonism,
the open triumph of the young mistress, the half concealed jealousy of
the old servant about her adored master. Now it seemed that the victory
remained with the servant. But in this final moment their common emotion
drew them together.
âMartine, you must not let him eat like a poor man. You promise me that
he shall have wine and meat every day?â
âHave no fear, mademoiselle.â
âAnd the five thousand francs lying there, you know belong to him. You
are not going to let yourselves starve to death, I suppose, with those
there. I want you to treat him very well.â
âI tell you that I will make it my business to do so, mademoiselle, and
that monsieur shall want for nothing.â
There was a momentâs silence. They were still regarding each other.
âAnd watch him, to see that he does not overwork himself. I am going
away very uneasy; he has not been well for some time past. Take good
care of him.â
âMake your mind easy, mademoiselle, I will take care of him.â
âWell, I give him into your charge. He will have only you now; and it is
some consolation to me to know that you love him dearly. Love him with
all your strength. Love him for us both.â
âYes, mademoiselle, as much as I can.â
Tears came into their eyes; Clotilde spoke again.
âWill you embrace me, Martine?â
âOh, mademoiselle, very gladly.â
They were in each otherâs arms when Pascal reentered the room. He
pretended not to see them, doubtless afraid of giving way to his
emotion. In an unnaturally loud voice he spoke of the final preparations
for Clotildeâs departure, like a man who had a great deal on his hands
and was afraid that the train might be missed. He had corded the trunks,
a man had taken them away in a little wagon, and they would find them at
the station. But it was only eight oâclock, and they had still two long
hours before them. Two hours of mortal anguish, spent in unoccupied
and weary waiting, during which they tasted a hundred times over the
bitterness of parting. The breakfast took hardly a quarter of an hour.
Then they got up, to sit down again. Their eyes never left the clock.
The minutes seemed long as those of a death watch, throughout the
mournful house.
âHow the wind blows!â said Clotilde, as a sudden gust made all the doors
creak.
Pascal went over to the window and watched the wild flight of the
storm-blown trees.
âIt has increased since morning,â he said. âPresently I must see to the
roof, for some of the tiles have been blown away.â
Already they had ceased to be one household. They listened in silence to
the furious wind, sweeping everything before it, carrying with it their
life.
Finally Pascal looked for a last time at the clock, and said simply:
âIt is time, Clotilde.â
She rose from the chair on which she had been sitting. She had for an
instant forgotten that she was going away, and all at once the dreadful
reality came back to her. Once more she looked at him, but he did not
open his arms to keep her. It was over; her hope was dead. And from this
moment her face was like that of one struck with death.
At first they exchanged the usual commonplaces.
âYou will write to me, will you not?â
âCertainly, and you must let me hear from you as often as possible.â
âAbove all, if you should fall ill, send for me at once.â
âI promise you that I will do so. But there is no danger. I am very
strong.â
Then, when the moment came in which she was to leave this dear house,
Clotilde looked around with unsteady gaze; then she threw herself on
Pascalâs breast, she held him for an instant in her arms, faltering:
âI wish to embrace you here, I wish to thank you. Master, it is you who
have made me what I am. As you have often told me, you have corrected
my heredity. What should I have become amid the surroundings in which
Maxime has grown up? Yes, if I am worth anything, it is to you alone
I owe it, you, who transplanted me into this abode of kindness and
affection, where you have brought me up worthy of you. Now, after having
taken me and overwhelmed me with benefits, you send me away. Be it as
you will, you are my master, and I will obey you. I love you, in spite
of all, and I shall always love you.â
He pressed her to his heart, answering:
âI desire only your good, I am completing my work.â
When they reached the station, Clotilde vowed to herself that she would
one day come back. Old Mme. Rougon was there, very gay and very brisk,
in spite of her eighty-and-odd years. She was triumphant now; she
thought she would have her son Pascal at her mercy. When she saw them
both stupefied with grief she took charge of everything; got the ticket,
registered the baggage, and installed the traveler in a compartment
in which there were only ladies. Then she spoke for a long time
about Maxime, giving instructions and asking to be kept informed of
everything. But the train did not start; there were still five cruel
minutes during which they remained face to face, without speaking to
each other. Then came the end, there were embraces, a great noise of
wheels, and waving of handkerchiefs.
Suddenly Pascal became aware that he was standing alone upon the
platform, while the train was disappearing around a bend in the road.
Then, without listening to his mother, he ran furiously up the slope,
sprang up the stone steps like a young man, and found himself in three
minutes on the terrace of La Souleiade. The mistral was raging there--a
fierce squall which bent the secular cypresses like straws. In the
colorless sky the sun seemed weary of the violence of the wind, which
for six days had been sweeping over its face. And like the wind-blown
trees Pascal stood firm, his garments flapping like banners, his beard
and hair blown about and lashed by the storm. His breath caught by the
wind, his hands pressed upon his heart to quiet its throbbing, he saw
the train flying in the distance across the bare plain, a little train
which the mistral seemed to sweep before it like a dry branch.
XII.
From the day following Clotildeâs departure, Pascal shut himself up in
the great empty house. He did not leave it again, ceasing entirely the
rare professional visits which he had still continued to make, living
there with doors and windows closed, in absolute silence and solitude.
Martine had received formal orders to admit no one under any pretext
whatever.
âBut your mother, monsieur, Mme. Felicite?â
âMy mother, less than any one else; I have my reasons. Tell her that
I am working, that I require to concentrate my thoughts, and that I
request her to excuse me.â
Three times in succession old Mme. Rougon had presented herself. She
would storm at the hall door. He would hear her voice rising in anger as
she tried in vain to force her way in. Then the noise would be stilled,
and there would be only a whisper of complaint and plotting between her
and the servant. But not once did he yield, not once did he lean over
the banisters and call to her to come up.
One day Martine ventured to say to him:
âIt is very hard, all the same, monsieur, to refuse admittance to oneâs
mother. The more so, as Mme. Felicite comes with good intentions, for
she knows the straits that monsieur is in, and she insists only in order
to offer her services.â
âMoney!â he cried, exasperated. âI want no money, do you hear? And
from her less than anybody. I will work, I will earn my own living; why
should I not?â
The question of money, however, began to grow pressing. He obstinately
refused to take another sou from the five thousand francs locked up
in the desk. Now that he was alone, he was completely indifferent to
material things; he would have been satisfied to live on bread and
water; and every time the servant asked him for money to buy wine, meat,
or sweets, he shrugged his shoulders--what was the use? there remained a
crust from the day before, was not that sufficient? But in her affection
for her master, whom she felt to be suffering, the old servant was
heart-broken at this miserliness which exceeded her own; this utter
destitution to which he abandoned himself and the whole house. The
workmen of the faubourgs lived better. Thus it was that for a whole day
a terrible conflict went on within her. Her doglike love struggled with
her love for her money, amassed sou by sou, hidden away, âmaking more,â
as she said. She would rather have parted with a piece of her flesh.
So long as her master had not suffered alone the idea of touching her
treasure had not even occurred to her. And she displayed extraordinary
heroism the morning when, driven to extremity, seeing her stove cold
and the larder empty, she disappeared for an hour and then returned with
provisions and the change of a hundred-franc note.
Pascal, who just then chanced to come downstairs, asked her in
astonishment where the money had come from, furious already, and
prepared to throw it all into the street, imagining she had applied to
his mother.
âWhy, no; why, no, monsieur!â she stammered, âit is not that at all.â
And she told him the story that she had prepared.
âImagine, M. Grandguillotâs affairs are going to be settled--or at least
I think so. It occurred to me this morning to go to the assigneeâs to
inquire, and he told me that you would undoubtedly recover something,
and that I might have a hundred francs now. Yes, he was even satisfied
with a receipt from me. He knows me, and you can make it all right
afterward.â
Pascal seemed scarcely surprised. She had calculated correctly that he
would not go out to verify her account. She was relieved, however, to
see with what easy indifference he accepted her story.
âAh, so much the better!â he said. âYou see now that one must never
despair. That will give me time to settle my affairs.â
His âaffairsâ was the sale of La Souleiade, about which he had been
thinking vaguely. But what a grief to leave this house in which Clotilde
had grown up, where they had lived together for nearly eighteen years!
He had taken two or three weeks already to reflect over the matter. Now
that he had the hope of getting back a little of the money he had lost
through the notaryâs failure, he ceased to think any more about it. He
relapsed into his former indifference, eating whatever Martine served
him, not even noticing the comforts with which she once more surrounded
him, in humble adoration, heart-broken at giving her money, but very
happy to support him now, without his suspecting that his sustenance
came from her.
But Pascal rewarded her very ill. Afterward he would be sorry, and
regret his outbursts. But in the state of feverish desperation in which
he lived this did not prevent him from again flying into a passion with
her, at the slightest cause of dissatisfaction. One evening, after he
had been listening to his mother talking for an interminable time with
her in the kitchen, he cried in sudden fury:
âMartine, I do not wish her to enter La Souleiade again, do you hear? If
you ever let her into the house again I will turn you out!â
She listened to him in surprise. Never, during the thirty-two years in
which she had been in his service, had he threatened to dismiss her in
this way. Big tears came to her eyes.
âOh, monsieur! you would not have the courage to do it! And I would not
go. I would lie down across the threshold first.â
He already regretted his anger, and he said more gently:
âThe thing is that I know perfectly well what is going on. She comes
to indoctrinate you, to put you against me, is it not so? Yes, she is
watching my papers; she wishes to steal and destroy everything up there
in the press. I know her; when she wants anything, she never gives up
until she gets it. Well, you can tell her that I am on my guard; that
while I am alive she shall never even come near the press. And the key
is here in my pocket.â
In effect, all his former terror--the terror of the scientist who feels
himself surrounded by secret enemies, had returned. Ever since he
had been living alone in the deserted house he had had a feeling of
returning danger, of being constantly watched in secret. The circle had
narrowed, and if he showed such anger at these attempts at invasion,
if he repulsed his motherâs assaults, it was because he did not deceive
himself as to her real plans, and he was afraid that he might yield. If
she were there she would gradually take possession of him, until she had
subjugated him completely. Therefore his former tortures returned,
and he passed the days watching; he shut up the house himself in the
evening, and he would often rise during the night, to assure himself
that the locks were not being forced. What he feared was that the
servant, won over by his mother, and believing she was securing his
eternal welfare, would open the door to Mme. Felicite. In fancy he saw
the papers blazing in the fireplace; he kept constant guard over them,
seized again by a morbid love, a torturing affection for this icy heap
of papers, these cold pages of manuscript, to which he had sacrificed
the love of woman, and which he tried to love sufficiently to be able to
forget everything else for them.
Pascal, now that Clotilde was no longer there, threw himself eagerly
into work, trying to submerge himself in it, to lose himself in it. If
he secluded himself, if he did not set foot even in the garden, if
he had had the strength, one day when Martine came up to announce Dr.
Ramond, to answer that he would not receive him, he had, in this bitter
desire for solitude, no other aim than to kill thought by incessant
labor. That poor Ramond, how gladly he would have embraced him! for
he divined clearly the delicacy of feeling that had made him hasten
to console his old master. But why lose an hour? Why risk emotions and
tears which would leave him so weak? From daylight he was at his table,
he spent at it his mornings and his afternoons, extended often into the
evening after the lamp was lighted, and far into the night. He wished
to put his old project into execution--to revise his whole theory
of heredity, employing the documents furnished by his own family to
establish the laws according to which, in a certain group of human
beings, life is distributed and conducted with mathematical precision
from one to another, taking into account the environment--a vast bible,
the genesis of families, of societies, of all humanity. He hoped that
the vastness of such a plan, the effort necessary to develop so colossal
an idea, would take complete possession of him, restoring to him his
health, his faith, his pride in the supreme joy of the accomplished
work. But it was in vain that he threw himself passionately,
persistently, without reserve, into his work; he succeeded only in
fatiguing his body and his mind, without even being able to fix his
thoughts or to put his heart into his work, every day sicker and more
despairing. Had work, then, finally lost its power? He whose life
had been spent in work, who had regarded it as the sole motor, the
benefactor, and the consoler, must he then conclude that to love and
to be loved is beyond all else in the world? Occasionally he would
have great thoughts, he continued to sketch out his new theory of the
equilibrium of forces, demonstrating that what man receives in sensation
he should return in action. How natural, full, and happy would life
be if it could be lived entire, performing its functions like a
well-ordered machine, giving back in power what was consumed in fuel,
maintaining itself in vigor and in beauty by the simultaneous and
logical play of all its organs. He believed physical and intellectual
labor, feeling and reasoning should be in equal proportions, and
never excessive, for excess meant disturbance of the equilibrium and,
consequently, disease. Yes, yes, to begin life over again and to know
how to live it, to dig the earth, to study man, to love woman, to attain
to human perfection, the future city of universal happiness, through the
harmonious working of the entire being, what a beautiful legacy for
a philosophical physician to leave behind him would this be! And this
dream of the future, this theory, confusedly perceived, filled him with
bitterness at the thought that now his life was a force wasted and lost.
At the very bottom of his grief Pascal had the dominating feeling that
for him life was ended. Regret for Clotilde, sorrow at having her no
longer beside him, the certainty that he would never see her again,
filled him with overwhelming grief. Work had lost its power, and he
would sometimes let his head drop on the page he was writing, and weep
for hours together, unable to summon courage to take up the pen again.
His passion for work, his days of voluntary fatigue, led to terrible
nights, nights of feverish sleeplessness, in which he would stuff the
bedclothes into his mouth to keep from crying out Clotildeâs name. She
was everywhere in this mournful house in which he secluded himself.
He saw her again, walking through the rooms, sitting on the chairs,
standing behind the doors. Downstairs, in the dining-room, he could not
sit at table, without seeing her opposite him. In the workroom upstairs
she was still his constant companion, for she, too, had lived so long
secluded in it that her image seemed reflected from everything; he felt
her constantly beside him, he could fancy he saw her standing before her
desk, straight and slender--her delicate face bent over a pastel. And if
he did not leave the house to escape from the dear and torturing memory
it was because he had the certainty that he should find her everywhere
in the garden, too: dreaming on the terrace; walking with slow steps
through the alleys in the pine grove; sitting under the shade of the
plane trees; lulled by the eternal song of the fountain; lying in the
threshing yard at twilight, her gaze fixed on space, waiting for
the stars to come out. But above all, there existed for him a sacred
sanctuary which he could not enter without trembling--the chamber where
she had confessed her love. He kept the key of it; he had not moved
a single object from its place since the sorrowful morning of her
departure; and a skirt which she had forgotten lay still upon her
armchair. He opened his arms wildly to clasp her shade floating in the
soft half light of the room, with its closed shutters and its walls hung
with the old faded pink calico, of a dawnlike tint.
In the midst of his unremitting toil Pascal had another melancholy
pleasure--Clotildeâs letters. She wrote to him regularly twice a week,
long letters of eight or ten pages, in which she described to him all
her daily life. She did not seem to lead a very happy life in Paris.
Maxime, who did not now leave his sick chair, evidently tortured her
with the exactions of a spoiled child and an invalid. She spoke as if
she lived in complete retirement, always waiting on him, so that she
could not even go over to the window to look out on the avenue, along
which rolled the fashionable stream of the promenaders of the Bois; and
from certain of her expressions it could be divined that her brother,
after having entreated her so urgently to go to him, suspected her
already, and had begun to regard her with hatred and distrust, as he did
every one who approached him, in his continual fear of being made use of
and robbed. He did not give her the keys, treating her like a servant to
whom he found it difficult to accustom himself. Twice she had seen her
father, who was, as always, very gay, and overwhelmed with business; he
had been converted to the Republic, and was at the height of political
and financial success. Saccard had even taken her aside, to sympathize
with her, saying that poor Maxime was really insupportable, and that she
would be truly courageous if she consented to be made his victim. As she
could not do everything, he had even had the kindness to send her,
on the following day, the niece of his hairdresser, a fair-haired,
innocent-looking girl of eighteen, named Rose, who was assisting her
now to take care of the invalid. But Clotilde made no complaint; she
affected, on the contrary, to be perfectly tranquil, contented, and
resigned to everything. Her letters were full of courage, showing
neither anger nor sorrow at the cruel separation, making no desperate
appeal to Pascalâs affection to recall her. But between the lines, he
could perceive that she trembled with rebellious anger, that her
whole being yearned for him, that she was ready to commit the folly of
returning to him immediately, at his lightest word.
And this was the one word that Pascal would not write. Everything would
be arranged in time. Maxime would become accustomed to his sister; the
sacrifice must be completed now that it had been begun. A single line
written by him in a moment of weakness, and all the advantage of the
effort he had made would be lost, and their misery would begin again.
Never had Pascal had greater need of courage than when he was answering
Clotildeâs letters. At night, burning with fever, he would toss about,
calling on her wildly; then he would get up and write to her to come
back at once. But when day came, and he had exhausted himself with
weeping, his fever abated, and his answer was always very short, almost
cold. He studied every sentence, beginning the letter over again when
he thought he had forgotten himself. But what a torture, these dreadful
letters, so short, so icy, in which he went against his heart, solely
in order to wean her from him gradually, to take upon himself all the
blame, and to make her believe that she could forget him, since he
forgot her. They left him covered with perspiration, and as exhausted as
if he had just performed some great act of heroism.
One morning toward the end of October, a month after Clotildeâs
departure, Pascal had a sudden attack of suffocation. He had had,
several times already, slight attacks, which he attributed to overwork.
But this time the symptoms were so plain that he could not mistake
them--a sharp pain in the region of the heart, extending over the whole
chest and along the left arm, and a dreadful sensation of oppression and
distress, while cold perspiration broke out upon him. It was an attack
of angina pectoris. It lasted hardly more than a minute, and he was
at first more surprised than frightened. With that blindness which
physicians often show where their own health is concerned, he never
suspected that his heart might be affected.
As he was recovering his breath Martine came up to say that Dr. Ramond
was downstairs, and again begged the doctor to see him. And Pascal,
yielding perhaps to an unconscious desire to know the truth, cried:
âWell, let him come up, since he insists upon it. I will be glad to see
him.â
The two men embraced each other, and no other allusion was made to the
absent one, to her whose departure had left the house empty, than an
energetic and sad hand clasp.
âYou donât know why I have come?â cried Ramond immediately. âIt is about
a question of money. Yes, my father-in-law, M. Leveque, the advocate,
whom you know, spoke to me yesterday again about the funds which you had
with the notary Grandguillot. And he advises you strongly to take some
action in the matter, for some persons have succeeded, he says, in
recovering something.â
âYes, I know that that business is being settled,â said Pascal. âMartine
has already got two hundred francs out of it, I believe.â
âMartine?â said Ramond, looking greatly surprised, âhow could she
do that without your intervention? However, will you authorize my
father-in-law to undertake your case? He will see the assignee, and sift
the whole affair, since you have neither the time nor the inclination to
attend to it.â
âCertainly, I authorize M. Leveque to do so, and tell him that I thank
him a thousand times.â
Then this matter being settled, the young man, remarking the doctorâs
pallor, and questioning him as to its cause, Pascal answered with a
smile:
âImagine, my friend, I have just had an attack of angina pectoris. Oh,
it is not imagination, all the symptoms were there. And stay! since you
are here you shall sound me.â
At first Ramond refused, affecting to turn the consultation into a
jest. Could a raw recruit like him venture to pronounce judgment on
his general? But he examined him, notwithstanding, seeing that his face
looked drawn and pained, with a singular look of fright in the eyes. He
ended by auscultating him carefully, keeping his ear pressed closely to
his chest for a considerable time. Several minutes passed in profound
silence.
âWell?â asked Pascal, when the young physician stood up.
The latter did not answer at once. He felt the doctorâs eyes looking
straight into his; and as the question had been put to him with quiet
courage, he answered in the same way:
âWell, it is true, I think there is some sclerosis.â
âAh! it was kind of you not to attempt to deceive me,â returned the
doctor, smiling. âI feared for an instant that you would tell me an
untruth, and that would have hurt me.â
Ramond, listening again, said in an undertone:
âYes, the beat is strong, the first sound is dull, while the second, on
the contrary, is sharp. It is evident that the apex has descended and is
turned toward the armpit. There is some sclerosis, at least it is very
probable. One may live twenty years with that,â he ended, straightening
himself.
âNo doubt, sometimes,â said Pascal. âAt least, unless one chances to die
of a sudden attack.â
They talked for some time longer, discussed a remarkable case of
sclerosis of the heart, which they had seen at the hospital at Plassans.
And when the young physician went away, he said that he would return as
soon as he should have news of the Grandguillot liquidation.
But when he was alone Pascal felt that he was lost. Everything was now
explained: his palpitations for some weeks past, his attacks of vertigo
and suffocation; above all that weakness of the organ, of his poor
heart, overtasked by feeling and by work, that sense of intense fatigue
and impending death, regarding which he could no longer deceive himself.
It was not as yet fear that he experienced, however. His first thought
was that he, too, would have to pay for his heredity, that sclerosis
was the species of degeneration which was to be his share of the
physiological misery, the inevitable inheritance bequeathed him by his
terrible ancestry. In others the neurosis, the original lesion, had
turned to vice or virtue, genius, crime, drunkenness, sanctity; others
again had died of consumption, of epilepsy, of ataxia; he had lived
in his feelings and he would die of an affection of the heart. And
he trembled no longer, he rebelled no longer against this manifest
heredity, fated and inevitable, no doubt. On the contrary, a feeling
of humility took possession of him; the idea that all revolt against
natural laws is bad, that wisdom does not consist in holding oneâs self
apart, but in resigning oneâs self to be only a member of the whole
great body. Why, then, was he so unwilling to belong to his family
that it filled him with triumph, that his heart beat with joy, when he
believed himself different from them, without any community with them?
Nothing could be less philosophical. Only monsters grew apart. And to
belong to his family seemed to him in the end as good and as fine as
to belong to any other family, for did not all families, in the main,
resemble one another, was not humanity everywhere identical with the
same amount of good and evil? He came at last, humbly and gently, even
in the face of impending suffering and death, to accept everything life
had to give him.
From this time Pascal lived with the thought that he might die at any
moment. And this helped to perfect his character, to elevate him to a
complete forgetfulness of self. He did not cease to work, but he had
never understood so well how much effort must seek its reward in itself,
the work being always transitory, and remaining of necessity incomplete.
One evening at dinner Martine informed him that Sarteur, the journeyman
hatter, the former inmate of the asylum at the Tulettes, had just hanged
himself. All the evening he thought of this strange case, of this man
whom he had believed he had cured of homicidal mania by his treatment of
hypodermic injections, and who, seized by a fresh attack, had evidently
had sufficient lucidity to hang himself, instead of springing at the
throat of some passer-by. He again saw him, so gentle, so reasonable,
kissing his hands, while he was advising him to return to his life of
healthful labor. What then was this destructive and transforming force,
the desire to murder, changing to suicide, death performing its task
in spite of everything? With the death of this man his last vestige of
pride as a healer disappeared; and each day when he returned to his work
he felt as if he were only a learner, spelling out his task, constantly
seeking the truth, which as constantly receded from him, assuming ever
more formidable proportions.
But in the midst of his resignation one thought still troubled him--what
would become of Bonhomme, his old horse, if he himself should die before
him? The poor brute, completely blind and his limbs paralyzed, did
not now leave his litter. When his master went to see him, however, he
turned his head, he could feel the two hearty kisses which were pressed
on his nose. All the neighbors shrugged their shoulders and joked about
this old relation whom the doctor would not allow to be slaughtered. Was
he then to be the first to go, with the thought that the knacker would
be called in on the following day. But one morning, when he entered the
stable, Bonhomme did not hear him, did not raise his head. He was dead;
he lay there, with a peaceful expression, as if relieved that death had
come to him so gently. His master knelt beside him and kissed him again
and bade him farewell, while two big tears rolled down his cheeks.
It was on this day that Pascal saw his neighbor, M. Bellombre, for the
last time. Going over to the window he perceived him in his garden, in
the pale sunshine of early November, taking his accustomed walk; and the
sight of the old professor, living so completely happy in his solitude,
filled him at first with astonishment. He could never have imagined such
a thing possible, as that a man of sixty-nine should live thus, without
wife or child, or even a dog, deriving his selfish happiness from
the joy of living outside of life. Then he recalled his fits of anger
against this man, his sarcasms about his fear of life, the catastrophes
which he had wished might happen to him, the hope that punishment would
come to him, in the shape of some housekeeper, or some female relation
dropping down on him unexpectedly. But no, he was still as fresh as
ever, and Pascal was sure that for a long time to come he would continue
to grow old like this, hard, avaricious, useless, and happy. And yet
he no longer execrated him; he could even have found it in his heart
to pity him, so ridiculous and miserable did he think him for not being
loved. Pascal, who suffered the pangs of death because he was alone!
He whose heart was breaking because he was too full of others. Rather
suffering, suffering only, than this selfishness, this death of all
there is in us of living and human!
In the night which followed Pascal had another attack of angina
pectoris. It lasted for five minutes, and he thought that he would
suffocate without having the strength to call Martine. Then when he
recovered his breath, he did not disturb himself, preferring to speak to
no one of this aggravation of his malady; but he had the certainty that
it was all over with him, that he might not perhaps live a month longer.
His first thought was Clotilde. Should he then never see her again? and
so sharp a pang seized him that he believed another attack was coming
on. Why should he not write to her to come to him? He had received a
letter from her the day before; he would answer it this morning. Then
the thought of the envelopes occurred to him. If he should die suddenly,
his mother would be the mistress and she would destroy them; and not
only the envelopes, but his manuscripts, all his papers, thirty years of
his intelligence and his labor. Thus the crime which he had so greatly
dreaded would be consummated, the crime of which the fear alone, during
his nights of fever, had made him get up out of bed trembling, his ear
on the stretch, listening to hear if they were forcing open the press.
The perspiration broke out upon him, he saw himself dispossessed,
outraged, the ashes of his work thrown to the four winds. And when his
thoughts reverted to Clotilde, he told himself that everything would be
satisfactorily arranged, that he had only to call her back--she would be
here, she would close his eyes, she would defend his memory. And he sat
down to write at once to her, so that the letter might go by the morning
mail.
But when Pascal was seated before the white paper, with the pen between
his fingers, a growing doubt, a feeling of dissatisfaction with himself,
took possession of him. Was not this idea of his papers, this fine
project of providing a guardian for them and saving them, a suggestion
of his weakness, an excuse which he gave himself to bring back Clotilde,
and see her again? Selfishness was at the bottom of it. He was thinking
of himself, not of her. He saw her returning to this poor house,
condemned to nurse a sick old man; and he saw her, above all, in her
grief, in her awful agony, when he should terrify her some day by
dropping down dead at her side. No, no! this was the dreadful moment
which he must spare her, those days of cruel adieus and want afterward,
a sad legacy which he could not leave her without thinking himself a
criminal. Her tranquillity, her happiness only, were of any consequence,
the rest did not matter. He would die in his hole, then, abandoned,
happy to think her happy, to spare her the cruel blow of his death. As
for saving his manuscripts he would perhaps find a means of doing so,
he would try to have the strength to part from them and give them to
Ramond. But even if all his papers were to perish, this was less of a
sacrifice than to resign himself not to see her again, and he accepted
it, and he was willing that nothing of him should survive, not even his
thoughts, provided only that nothing of him should henceforth trouble
her dear existence.
Pascal accordingly proceeded to write one of his usual answers,
which, by a great effort, he purposely made colorless and almost cold.
Clotilde, in her last letter, without complaining of Maxime, had given
it to be understood that her brother had lost his interest in her,
preferring the society of Rose, the niece of Saccardâs hairdresser, the
fair-haired young girl with the innocent look. And he suspected strongly
some maneuver of the father: a cunning plan to obtain possession of the
inheritance of the sick man, whose vices, so precocious formerly, gained
new force as his last hour approached. But in spite of his uneasiness he
gave Clotilde very good advice, telling her that she must make allowance
for Maximeâs sufferings, that he had undoubtedly a great deal of
affection and gratitude for her, in short that it was her duty to devote
herself to him to the end. When he signed the letter tears dimmed
his sight. It was his death warrant--a death like that of an old and
solitary brute, a death without a kiss, without the touch of a friendly
hand--that he was signing. Never again would he embrace her. Then
doubts assailed him; was he doing right in leaving her amid such evil
surroundings, where he felt that she was in continual contact with every
species of wickedness?
The postman brought the letters and newspapers to La Souleiade every
morning at about nine oâclock; and Pascal, when he wrote to Clotilde,
was accustomed to watch for him, to give him his letter, so as to
be certain that his correspondence was not intercepted. But on this
morning, when he went downstairs to give him the letter he had just
written, he was surprised to receive one from him from Clotilde,
although it was not the usual day for her letters. He allowed his own to
go, however. Then he went upstairs, resumed his seat at his table, and
tore open the envelope.
The letter was short, but its contents filled Pascal with a great joy.
* * * * *
But the sound of footsteps made him control himself. He turned round and
saw Martine, who was saying:
âDr. Ramond is downstairs.â
âAh! let him come up, let him come up,â he said.
It was another piece of good fortune that had come to him. Ramond cried
gaily from the door:
âVictory, master! I have brought you your money--not all, but a good
sum.â
And he told the story--an unexpected piece of good luck which his
father-in-law, M. Leveque, had brought to light. The receipts for
the hundred and twenty thousand francs, which constituted Pascal the
personal creditor of Grandguillot, were valueless, since the latter was
insolvent. Salvation was to come from the power of attorney which the
doctor had sent him years before, at his request, that he might invest
all or part of his money in mortgages. As the name of the proxy was in
blank in the document, the notary, as is sometimes done, had made use
of the name of one of his clerks, and eighty thousand francs, which had
been invested in good mortgages, had thus been recovered through the
agency of a worthy man who was not in the secrets of his employer. If
Pascal had taken action in the matter, if he had gone to the public
prosecutorâs office and the chamber of notaries, he would have
disentangled the matter long before. However, he had recovered a sure
income of four thousand francs.
He seized the young manâs hands and pressed them, smiling, his eyes
still moist with tears.
âAh! my friend, if you knew how happy I am! This letter of Clotildeâs
has brought me a great happiness. Yes, I was going to send for her; but
the thought of my poverty, of the privations she would have to endure
here, spoiled for me the joy of her return. And now fortune has come
back, at least enough to set up my little establishment again!â
In the expansion of his feelings he held out the letter to Ramond, and
forced him to read it. Then when the young man gave it back to him,
smiling, comprehending the doctorâs emotion, and profoundly touched by
it, yielding to an overpowering need of affection, he caught him in
his arms, like a comrade, a brother. The two men kissed each other
vigorously on either cheek.
âCome, since good fortune has sent you, I am going to ask another
service from you. You know I distrust every one around me, even my old
housekeeper. Will you take my despatch to the telegraph office!â
He sat down again at the table, and wrote simply, âI await you; start
to-night.â
âLet me see,â he said, âto-day is the 6th of November, is it not? It is
now near ten oâclock; she will have my despatch at noon. That will give
her time enough to pack her trunks and to take the eight oâclock express
this evening, which will bring her to Marseilles in time for breakfast.
But as there is no train which connects with it, she cannot be here
until to-morrow, the 7th, at five oâclock.â
After folding the despatch he rose:
âMy God, at five oâclock to-morrow! How long to wait still! What shall I
do with myself until then?â
Then a sudden recollection filled him with anxiety, and he became grave.
âRamond, my comrade, will you give me a great proof of your friendship
by being perfectly frank with me?â
âHow so, master?â
âAh, you understand me very well. The other day you examined me. Do you
think I can live another year?â
He fixed his eyes on the young man as he spoke, compelling him to look
at him. Ramond evaded a direct answer, however, with a jest--was it
really a physician who put such a question?
âLet us be serious, Ramond, I beg of you.â
Then Ramond answered in all sincerity that, in his opinion, the doctor
might very justly entertain the hope of living another year. He gave his
reasons--the comparatively slight progress which the sclerosis had made,
and the absolute soundness of the other organs. Of course they must
make allowance for what they did not and could not know, for a sudden
accident was always possible. And the two men discussed the case as if
they been in consultation at the bedside of a patient, weighing the
pros and cons, each stating his views and prognosticating a fatal
termination, in accordance with the symptoms as defined by the best
authorities.
Pascal, as if it were some one else who was in question, had recovered
all his composure and his heroic self-forgetfulness.
âYes,â he murmured at last, âyou are right; a year of life is still
possible. Ah, my friend, how I wish I might live two years; a mad wish,
no doubt, an eternity of joy. And yet, two years, that would not
be impossible. I had a very curious case once, a wheelwright of
the faubourg, who lived for four years, giving the lie to all my
prognostications. Two years, two years, I will live two years! I must
live two years!â
Ramond sat with bent head, without answering. He was beginning to
be uneasy, fearing that he had shown himself too optimistic; and the
doctorâs joy disquieted and grieved him, as if this very exaltation,
this disturbance of a once strong brain, warned him of a secret and
imminent danger.
âDid you not wish to send that despatch at once?â he said.
âYes, yes, go quickly, my good Ramond, and come back again to see us the
day after to-morrow. She will be here then, and I want you to come and
embrace us.â
The day was long, and the following morning, at about four oâclock,
shortly after Pascal had fallen asleep, after a happy vigil filled with
hopes and dreams, he was wakened by a dreadful attack. He felt as if an
enormous weight, as if the whole house, had fallen down upon his chest,
so that the thorax, flattened down, touched the back. He could not
breathe; the pain reached the shoulders, then the neck, and paralyzed
the left arm. But he was perfectly conscious; he had the feeling that
his heart was about to stop, that life was about to leave him, in the
dreadful oppression, like that of a vise, which was suffocating him.
Before the attack reached its height he had the strength to rise and to
knock on the floor with a stick for Martine. Then he fell back on his
bed, unable to speak or to move, and covered with a cold sweat.
Martine, fortunately, in the profound silence of the empty house, heard
the knock. She dressed herself, wrapped a shawl about her, and went
upstairs, carrying her candle. The darkness was still profound; dawn
was about to break. And when she perceived her master, whose eyes alone
seemed living, looking at her with locked jaws, speechless, his face
distorted by pain, she was awed and terrified, and she could only rush
toward the bed crying:
âMy God! My God! what is the matter, monsieur? Answer me, monsieur, you
frighten me!â
For a full minute Pascal struggled in vain to recover his breath. Then,
the viselike pressure on his chest relaxing slowly, he murmured in a
faint voice:
âThe five thousand francs in the desk are Clotildeâs. Tell her that the
affair of the notary is settled, that she will recover from it enough to
live upon.â
Then Martine, who had listened to him in open-mouthed wonder, confessed
the falsehood she had told him, ignorant of the good news that had been
brought by Ramond.
âMonsieur, you must forgive me; I told you an untruth. But it would be
wrong to deceive you longer. When I saw you alone and so unhappy, I took
some of my own money.â
âMy poor girl, you did that!â
âOh, I had some hope that monsieur would return it to me one day.â
By this time the attack had passed off, and he was able to turn his head
and look at her. He was amazed and moved. What was passing in the heart
of this avaricious old maid, who for thirty years had been saving up
her treasure painfully, who had never taken a sou from it, either for
herself or for any one else? He did not yet comprehend, but he wished to
show himself kind and grateful.
âYou are a good woman, Martine. All that will be returned to you. I
truly think I am going to die--â
She did not allow him to finish, her whole being rose up in rebellious
protest.
âDie; you, monsieur! Die before me! I do not wish it. I will not let you
die!â
She threw herself on her knees beside the bed; she caught him wildly
in her arms, feeling him, to see if he suffered, holding him as if she
thought that death would not dare to take him from her.
âYou must tell me what is the matter with you. I will take care of you.
I will save you. If it were necessary to give my life for you, I would
give it, monsieur. I will sit up day and night with you. I am strong
still; I will be stronger than the disease, you shall see. To die!
to die! oh, no, it cannot be! The good God cannot wish so great an
injustice. I have prayed so much in my life that he ought to listen to
me a little now, and he will grant my prayer, monsieur; he will save
you.â
Pascal looked at her, listened to her, and a sudden light broke in upon
his mind. She loved him, this miserable woman; she had always loved him.
He thought of her thirty years of blind devotion, her mute adoration,
when she had waited upon him, on her knees, as it were, when she
was young; her secret jealousy of Clotilde later; what she must have
secretly suffered all that time! And she was here on her knees now
again, beside his deathbed; her hair gray; her eyes the color of ashes
in her pale nun-like face, dulled by her solitary life. And he felt that
she was unconscious of it all; that she did not even know with what sort
of love she loved him, loving him only for the happiness of loving him:
of being with him, and of waiting on him.
Tears rose to Pascalâs eyes; a dolorous pity and an infinite human
tenderness flowed from his poor, half-broken heart.
âMy poor girl,â he said, âyou are the best of girls. Come, embrace me,
as you love me, with all your strength.â
She, too, sobbed. She let her gray head, her face worn by her long
servitude, fall on her masterâs breast. Wildly she kissed him, putting
all her life into the kiss.
âThere, let us not give way to emotion, for you see we can do nothing;
this will be the end, just the same. If you wish me to love you, obey
me. Now that I am better, that I can breathe easier, do me the favor to
run to Dr. Ramondâs. Waken him and bring him back with you.â
She was leaving the room when he called to her, seized by a sudden fear.
âAnd remember, I forbid you to go to inform my mother.â
She turned back, embarrassed, and in a voice of entreaty, said:
âOh, monsieur, Mme. Felicite has made me promise so often--â
But he was inflexible. All his life he had treated his mother with
deference, and he thought he had acquired the right to defend himself
against her in the hour of his death. He would not let the servant go
until she had promised him that she would be silent. Then he smiled once
more.
âGo quickly. Oh, you will see me again; it will not be yet.â
Day broke at last, the melancholy dawn of the pale November day. Pascal
had had the shutters opened, and when he was left alone he watched the
brightening dawn, doubtless that of his last day of life. It had rained
the night before, and the mild sun was still veiled by clouds. From the
plane trees came the morning carols of the birds, while far away in the
sleeping country a locomotive whistled with a prolonged moan. And he
was alone; alone in the great melancholy house, whose emptiness he felt
around him, whose silence he heard. The light slowly increased, and
he watched the patches it made on the window-panes broadening and
brightening. Then the candle paled in the growing light, and the whole
room became visible. And with the dawn, as he had anticipated, came
relief. The sight of the familiar objects around him brought him
consolation.
But Pascal, although the attack had passed away, still suffered
horribly. A sharp pain remained in the hollow of his chest, and his left
arm, benumbed, hung from his shoulder like lead. In his long waiting
for the help that Martine had gone to bring, he had reflected on
the suffering which made the flesh cry out. And he found that he was
resigned; he no longer felt the rebelliousness which the mere sight of
physical pain had formerly awakened in him. It had exasperated him, as
if it had been a monstrous and useless cruelty of nature. In his doubts
as a physician, he had attended his patients only to combat it, and to
relieve it. If he ended by accepting it, now that he himself suffered
its horrible torture, was it that he had risen one degree higher in his
faith of life, to that serene height whence life appeared altogether
good, even with the fatal condition of suffering attached to it;
suffering which is perhaps its spring? Yes, to live all of life, to live
it and to suffer it all without rebellion, without believing that it is
made better by being made painless, this presented itself clearly to
his dying eyes, as the greatest courage and the greatest wisdom. And to
cheat pain while he waited, he reviewed his latest theories; he dreamed
of a means of utilizing suffering by transforming it into action, into
work. If it be true that man feels pain more acutely according as he
rises in the scale of civilization, it is also certain that he becomes
stronger through it, better armed against it, more capable of resisting
it. The organ, the brain which works, develops and grows stronger,
provided the equilibrium between the sensations which it receives and
the work which it gives back be not broken. Might not one hope, then,
for a humanity in which the amount of work accomplished would so exactly
equal the sum of sensations received, that suffering would be utilized
and, as it were, abolished?
The sun had risen, and Pascal was confusedly revolving these distant
hopes in his mind, in the drowsiness produced by his disease, when he
felt a new attack coming on. He had a moment of cruel anxiety--was
this the end? Was he going to die alone? But at this instant hurried
footsteps mounted the stairs, and a moment later Ramond entered,
followed by Martine. And the patient had time to say before the attack
began:
âQuick! quick! a hypodermic injection of pure water.â
Unfortunately the doctor had to look for the little syringe and then
to prepare everything. This occupied some minutes, and the attack was
terrible. He followed its progress with anxiety--the face becoming
distorted, the lips growing livid. Then when he had given the injection,
he observed that the phenomena, for a moment stationary, slowly
diminished in intensity. Once more the catastrophe was averted.
As soon as he recovered his breath Pascal, glancing at the clock, said
in his calm, faint voice:
âMy friend, it is seven oâclock--in twelve hours, at seven oâclock
to-night, I shall be dead.â
And as the young man was about to protest, to argue the question, âNo,â
he resumed, âdo not try to deceive me. You have witnessed the attack.
You know what it means as well as I do. Everything will now proceed with
mathematical exactness; and, hour by hour, I could describe to you the
phases of the disease.â
He stopped, gasped for breath, and then added:
âAnd then, all is well; I am content. Clotilde will be here at five; all
I ask is to see her and to die in her arms.â
A few moments later, however, he experienced a sensible improvement. The
effect of the injection seemed truly miraculous; and he was able to sit
up in bed, his back resting against the pillows. He spoke clearly, and
with more ease, and never had the lucidity of his mind appeared greater.
âYou know, master,â said, Ramond, âthat I will not leave you. I have
told my wife, and we will spend the day together; and, whatever you may
say to the contrary, I am very confident that it will not be the last.
You will let me make myself at home, here, will you not?â
Pascal smiled, and gave orders to Martine to go and prepare breakfast
for Ramond, saying that if they needed her they would call her. And the
two men remained alone, conversing with friendly intimacy; the one with
his white hair and long white beard, lying down, discoursing like a
sage, the other sitting at his bedside, listening with the respect of a
disciple.
âIn truth,â murmured the master, as if he were speaking to himself, âthe
effect of those injections is extraordinary.â
Then in a stronger voice, he said almost gaily:
âMy friend Ramond, it may not be a very great present that I am giving
you, but I am going to leave you my manuscripts. Yes, Clotilde has
orders to send them to you when I shall be no more. Look through them,
and you will perhaps find among them things that are not so very bad. If
you get a good idea from them some day--well, that will be so much the
better for the world.â
And then he made his scientific testament. He was clearly conscious
that he had been himself only a solitary pioneer, a precursor, planning
theories which he tried to put in practise, but which failed because
of the imperfection of his method. He recalled his enthusiasm when he
believed he had discovered, in his injections of nerve substance, the
universal panacea, then his disappointments, his fits of despair, the
shocking death of Lafouasse, consumption carrying off Valentin in spite
of all his efforts, madness again conquering Sarteur and causing him to
hang himself. So that he would depart full of doubt, having no longer
the confidence necessary to the physician, and so enamored of life that
he had ended by putting all his faith in it, certain that it must draw
from itself alone its health and strength. But he did not wish to close
up the future; he was glad, on the contrary, to bequeath his hypotheses
to the younger generation. Every twenty years theories changed;
established truths only, on which science continued to build, remained
unshaken. Even if he had only the merit of giving to science a momentary
hypothesis, his work would not be lost, for progress consisted assuredly
in the effort, in the onward march of the intellect.
And then who could say that he had died in vain, troubled and weary, his
hopes concerning the injections unrealized--other workers would come,
young, ardent, confident, who would take up the idea, elucidate it,
expand it. And perhaps a new epoch, a new world would date from this.
âAh, my dear Ramond,â he continued, âif one could only live life over
again. Yes, I would take up my idea again, for I have been struck lately
by the singular efficacy of injections even of pure water. It is not the
liquid, then, that matters, but simply the mechanical action. During the
last month I have written a great deal on that subject. You will
find some curious notes and observations there. In short, I should be
inclined to put all my faith in work, to place health in the harmonious
working of all the organs, a sort of dynamic therapeutics, if I may
venture to use the expression.â
He had gradually grown excited, forgetting his approaching death in his
ardent curiosity about life. And he sketched, with broad strokes, his
last theory. Man was surrounded by a medium--nature--which irritated
by perpetual contact the sensitive extremities of the nerves. Hence the
action, not only of the senses, but of the entire surface of the body,
external and internal. For it was these sensations which, reverberating
in the brain, in the marrow, and in the nervous centers, were there
converted into tonicity, movements, and thoughts; and he was convinced
that health consisted in the natural progress of this work, in receiving
sensations, and in giving them back in thoughts and in actions, the
human machine being thus fed by the regular play of the organs. Work
thus became the great law, the regulator of the living universe. Hence
it became necessary if the equilibrium were broken, if the external
excitations ceased to be sufficient, for therapeutics to create
artificial excitations, in order to reestablish the tonicity which is
the state of perfect health. And he dreamed of a whole new system of
treatment--suggestion, the all-powerful authority of the physician,
for the senses; electricity, friction, massage for the skin and for the
tendons; diet for the stomach; air cures on high plateaus for the
lungs, and, finally, transfusion, injections of distilled water, for the
circulatory system. It was the undeniable and purely mechanical action
of these latter that had put him on the track; all he did now was to
extend the hypothesis, impelled by his generalizing spirit; he saw the
world saved anew in this perfect equilibrium, as much work given as
sensation received, the balance of the world restored by unceasing
labor.
Here he burst into a frank laugh.
âThere! I have started off again. I, who was firmly convinced that the
only wisdom was not to interfere, to let nature take its course. Ah,
what an incorrigible old fool I am!â
Ramond caught his hands in an outburst of admiration and affection.
âMaster, master! it is of enthusiasm, of folly like yours that genius is
made. Have no fear, I have listened to you, I will endeavor to be worthy
of the heritage you leave; and I think, with you, that perhaps the great
future lies entirely there.â
In the sad and quiet room Pascal began to speak again, with the
courageous tranquillity of a dying philosopher giving his last lesson.
He now reviewed his personal observations; he said that he had often
cured himself by work, regular and methodical work, not carried to
excess. Eleven oâclock struck; he urged Ramond to take his breakfast,
and he continued the conversation, soaring to lofty and distant heights,
while Martine served the meal. The sun had at last burst through the
morning mists, a sun still half-veiled in clouds, and mild, whose golden
light warmed the room. Presently, after taking a few sips of milk,
Pascal remained silent.
At this moment the young physician was eating a pear.
âAre you in pain again?â he asked.
âNo, no; finish.â
But he could not deceive Ramond. It was an attack, and a terrible one.
The suffocation came with the swiftness of a thunderbolt, and he fell
back on the pillow, his face already blue. He clutched at the bedclothes
to support himself, to raise the dreadful weight which oppressed his
chest. Terrified, livid, he kept his wide open eyes fixed upon the
clock, with a dreadful expression of despair and grief; and for ten
minutes it seemed as if every moment must be his last.
Ramond had immediately given him a hypodermic injection. The relief was
slow to come, the efficacy less than before.
When Pascal revived, large tears stood in his eyes. He did not speak
now, he wept. Presently, looking at the clock with his darkening vision,
he said:
âMy friend, I shall die at four oâclock; I shall not see her.â
And as his young colleague, in order to divert his thoughts, declared,
in spite of appearances, that the end was not so near, Pascal, again
becoming enthusiastic, wished to give him a last lesson, based on direct
observation. He had, as it happened, attended several cases similar to
his own, and he remembered especially to have dissected at the hospital
the heart of a poor old man affected with sclerosis.
âI can see it--my heart. It is the color of a dead leaf; its fibers are
brittle, wasted, one would say, although it has augmented slightly in
volume. The inflammatory process has hardened it; it would be difficult
to cut--â
He continued in a lower voice. A little before, he had felt his heart
growing weaker, its contractions becoming feebler and slower. Instead
of the normal jet of blood there now issued from the aorta only a red
froth. Back of it all the veins were engorged with black blood; the
suffocation increased, according as the lift and force pump, the
regulator of the whole machine, moved more slowly. And after the
injection he had been able to follow in spite of his suffering the
gradual reviving of the organ as the stimulus set it beating again,
removing the black venous blood, and sending life into it anew, with
the red arterial blood. But the attack would return as soon as the
mechanical effect of the injection should cease. He could predict it
almost within a few minutes. Thanks to the injections he would have
three attacks more. The third would carry him off; he would die at four
oâclock.
Then, while his voice grew gradually weaker, in a last outburst of
enthusiasm, he apostrophized the courage of the heart, that persistent
life maker, working ceaselessly, even during sleep, when the other
organs rested.
âAh, brave heart! how heroically you struggle! What faithful, what
generous muscles, never wearied! You have loved too much, you have beat
too fast in the past months, and that is why you are breaking now,
brave heart, who do not wish to die, and who strive rebelliously to beat
still!â
But now the first of the attacks which had been announced came on.
Pascal came out of this panting, haggard, his speech sibilant and
painful. Low moans escaped him, in spite of his courage. Good God! would
this torture never end? And yet his most ardent desire was to prolong
his agony, to live long enough to embrace Clotilde a last time. If he
might only be deceiving himself, as Ramond persisted in declaring. If he
might only live until five oâclock. His eyes again turned to the clock,
they never now left the hands, every minute seeming an eternity. They
marked three oâclock. Then half-past three. Ah, God! only two hours of
life, two hours more of life. The sun was already sinking toward the
horizon; a great calm descended from the pale winter sky, and he heard
at intervals the whistles of the distant locomotives crossing the bare
plain. The train that was passing now was the one going to the Tulettes;
the other, the one coming from Marseilles, would it never arrive, then!
At twenty minutes to four Pascal signed to Ramond to approach. He could
no longer speak loud enough to be heard.
âYou see, in order that I might live until six oâclock, the pulse should
be stronger. I have still some hope, however, but the second movement is
almost imperceptible, the heart will soon cease to beat.â
And in faint, despairing accents he called on Clotilde again and again.
The immeasurable grief which he felt at not being able to see her again
broke forth in this faltering and agonized appeal. Then his anxiety
about his manuscripts returned, an ardent entreaty shone in his eyes,
until at last he found the strength to falter again:
âDo not leave me; the key is under my pillow; tell Clotilde to take it;
she has my directions.â
At ten minutes to four another hypodermic injection was given, but
without effect. And just as four oâclock was striking, the second attack
declared itself. Suddenly, after a fit of suffocation, he threw himself
out of bed; he desired to rise, to walk, in a last revival of his
strength. A need of space, of light, of air, urged him toward the skies.
Then there came to him an irresistible appeal from life, his whole life,
from the adjoining workroom, where he had spent his days. And he went
there, staggering, suffocating, bending to the left side, supporting
himself by the furniture.
Dr. Ramond precipitated himself quickly toward him to stop him, crying:
âMaster, master! lie down again, I entreat you!â
But Pascal paid no heed to him, obstinately determined to die on his
feet. The desire to live, the heroic idea of work, alone survived in
him, carrying him onward bodily. He faltered hoarsely:
âNo, no--out there, out there--â
His friend was obliged to support him, and he walked thus, stumbling and
haggard, to the end of the workroom, and dropped into his chair beside
his table, on which an unfinished page still lay among a confusion of
papers and books.
Here he gasped for breath and his eyes closed. After a moment he opened
them again, while his hands groped about, seeking his work, no doubt.
They encountered the genealogical tree in the midst of other papers
scattered about. Only two days before he had corrected some dates in it.
He recognized it, and drawing it toward him, spread it out.
âMaster, master! you will kill yourself!â cried Ramond, overcome with
pity and admiration at this extraordinary spectacle.
Pascal did not listen, did not hear. He felt a pencil under his fingers.
He took it and bent over the tree, as if his dying eyes no longer saw.
The name of Maxime arrested his attention, and he wrote: âDied of ataxia
in 1873,â in the certainty that his nephew would not live through the
year. Then Clotildeâs name, beside it, struck him and he completed the
note thus: âHas a son, by her Uncle Pascal, in 1874.â But it was his own
name that he sought wearily and confusedly. When he at last found it
his hand grew firmer, and he finished his note, in upright and bold
characters: âDied of heart disease, November 7, 1873.â This was the
supreme effort, the rattle in his throat increased, everything was
fading into nothingness, when he perceived the blank leaf above
Clotildeâs name. His vision grew dark, his fingers could no longer hold
the pencil, but he was still able to add, in unsteady letters, into
which passed the tortured tenderness, the wild disorder of his poor
heart: âThe unknown child, to be born in 1874. What will it be?â Then he
swooned, and Martine and Ramond with difficulty carried him back to bed.
The third attack came on about four oâclock. In this last access of
suffocation Pascalâs countenance expressed excruciating suffering. Death
was to be very painful; he must endure to the end his martyrdom, as a
man and a scientist. His wandering gaze still seemed to seek the clock,
to ascertain the hour. And Ramond, seeing his lips move, bent down and
placed his ear to the mouth of the dying man. The latter, in effect, was
stammering some vague words, so faint that they scarcely rose above a
breath:
âFour oâclock--the heart is stopping; no more red blood in the
aorta--the valve relaxes and bursts.â
A dreadful spasm shook him; his breathing grew fainter.
âIts progress is too rapid. Do not leave me; the key is under the
pillow--Clotilde, Clotilde--â
At the foot of the bed Martine was kneeling, choked with sobs. She
saw well that monsieur was dying. She had not dared to go for a priest
notwithstanding her great desire to do so; and she was herself reciting
the prayers for the dying; she prayed ardently that God would pardon
monsieur, and that monsieur might go straight to Paradise.
Pascal was dying. His face was quite blue. After a few seconds of
immobility, he tried to breathe: he put out his lips, opened his poor
mouth, like a little bird opening its beak to get a last mouthful of
air. And he was dead.
XIII.
It was not until after breakfast, at about one oâclock, that Clotilde
received the despatch. On this day it had chanced that she had quarreled
with her brother Maxime, who, taking advantage of his privileges as an
invalid, had tormented her more and more every day by his unreasonable
caprices and his outbursts of ill temper. In short, her visit to him had
not proved a success. He found that she was too simple and too serious
to cheer him; and he had preferred, of late, the society of Rose, the
fair-haired young girl, with the innocent look, who amused him. So that
when his sister told him that their uncle had sent for her, and that she
was going away, he gave his approval at once, and although he asked her
to return as soon as she should have settled her affairs at home, he did
so only with the desire of showing himself amiable, and he did not press
the invitation.
Clotilde spent the afternoon in packing her trunks. In the feverish
excitement of so sudden a decision she had thought of nothing but the
joy of her return. But after the hurry of dinner was over, after she had
said good-by to her brother, after the interminable drive in a hackney
coach along the avenue of the Bois de Boulogne to the Lyons railway
station, when she found herself in the ladiesâ compartment, starting
on the long journey on a cold and rainy November night, already rolling
away from Paris, her excitement began to abate, and reflections forced
their way into her mind and began to trouble her. Why this brief and
urgent despatch: âI await you; start this evening.â Doubtless it was the
answer to her letter; but she knew how greatly Pascal had desired that
she should remain in Paris, where he thought she was happy, and she was
astonished at his hasty summons. She had not expected a despatch, but
a letter, arranging for her return a few weeks later. There must be
something else, then; perhaps he was ill and felt a desire, a longing to
see her again at once. And from this time forward this fear seized her
with the force of a presentiment, and grew stronger and stronger, until
it soon took complete possession of her.
All night long the rain beat furiously against the windows of the train
while they were crossing the plains of Burgundy, and did not cease until
they reached Macon. When they had passed Lyons the day broke. Clotilde
had Pascalâs letters with her, and she had waited impatiently for the
daylight that she might read again carefully these letters, the
writing of which had seemed changed to her. And noticing the unsteady
characters, the breaks in the words, she felt a chill at her heart. He
was ill, very ill--she had become certain of this now, by a divination
in which there was less of reasoning than of subtle prescience. And the
rest of the journey seemed terribly long, for her anguish increased
in proportion as she approached its termination. And worse than all,
arriving at Marseilles at half-past twelve, there was no train for
Plassans until twenty minutes past three. Three long hours of waiting!
She breakfasted at the buffet in the railway station, eating hurriedly,
as if she was afraid of missing this train; then she dragged herself
into the dusty garden, going from bench to bench in the pale, mild
sunshine, among omnibuses and hackney coaches. At last she was once more
in the train, which stopped at every little way station. When they were
approaching Plassans she put her head out of the window eagerly, longing
to see the town again after her short absence of two months. It seemed
to her as if she had been away for twenty years, and that everything
must be changed. When the train was leaving the little station of
Sainte-Marthe her emotion reached its height when, leaning out, she
saw in the distance La Souleiade with the two secular cypresses on the
terrace, which could be seen three leagues off.
It was five oâclock, and twilight was already falling. The train
stopped, and Clotilde descended. But it was a surprise and a keen grief
to her not to see Pascal waiting for her on the platform. She had been
saying to herself since they had left Lyons: âIf I do not see him at
once, on the arrival of the train, it will be because he is ill.â He
might be in the waiting-room, however, or with a carriage outside. She
hurried forward, but she saw no one but Father Durieu, a driver whom the
doctor was in the habit of employing. She questioned him eagerly. The
old man, a taciturn Provencal, was in no haste to answer. His wagon was
there, and he asked her for the checks for her luggage, wishing to see
about the trunks before anything else. In a trembling voice she repeated
her question:
âIs everybody well, Father Durieu?â
âYes, mademoiselle.â
And she was obliged to put question after question to him before she
succeeded in eliciting the information that it was Martine who had told
him, at about six oâclock the day before, to be at the station with his
wagon, in time to meet the train. He had not seen the doctor, no one had
seen him, for two months past. It might very well be since he was not
here that he had been obliged to take to his bed, for there was a report
in the town that he was not very well.
âWait until I get the luggage, mademoiselle,â he ended, âthere is room
for you on the seat.â
âNo, Father Durieu, it would be too long to wait. I will walk.â
She ascended the slope rapidly. Her heart was so tightened that
she could scarcely breathe. The sun had sunk behind the hills of
Sainte-Marthe, and a fine mist was falling from the chill gray November
sky, and as she took the road to Les Fenouilleres she caught another
glimpse of La Souleiade, which struck a chill to her heart--the front
of the house, with all its shutters closed, and wearing a look of
abandonment and desolation in the melancholy twilight.
But Clotilde received the final and terrible blow when she saw Ramond
standing at the hall door, apparently waiting for her. He had indeed
been watching for her, and had come downstairs to break the dreadful
news gently to her. She arrived out of breath; she had crossed the
quincunx of plane trees near the fountain to shorten the way, and on
seeing the young man there instead of Pascal, whom she had in spite of
everything expected to see, she had a presentiment of overwhelming ruin,
of irreparable misfortune. Ramond was pale and agitated, notwithstanding
the effort he made to control his feelings. At the first moment he could
not find a word to say, but waited to be questioned. Clotilde, who was
herself suffocating, said nothing. And they entered the house thus; he
led her to the dining-room, where they remained for a few seconds, face
to face, in mute anguish.
âHe is ill, is he not?â she at last faltered.
âYes,â he said, âhe is ill.â
âI knew it at once when I saw you,â she replied. âI knew when he was not
here that he must be ill. He is very ill, is he not?â she persisted.
As he did not answer but grew still paler, she looked at him fixedly.
And on the instant she saw the shadow of death upon him; on his hands
that still trembled, that had assisted the dying man; on his sad face;
in his troubled eyes, which still retained the reflection of the death
agony; in the neglected and disordered appearance of the physician who,
for twelve hours, had maintained an unavailing struggle against death.
She gave a loud cry:
âHe is dead!â
She tottered, and fell fainting into the arms of Ramond, who with a
great sob pressed her in a brotherly embrace. And thus they wept on each
otherâs neck.
When he had seated her in a chair, and she was able to speak, he said:
âIt was I who took the despatch you received to the telegraph office
yesterday, at half-past ten oâclock. He was so happy, so full of hope!
He was forming plans for the future--a year, two years of life. And this
morning, at four oâclock, he had the first attack, and he sent for me.
He saw at once that he was doomed, but he expected to last until
six oâclock, to live long enough to see you again. But the disease
progressed too rapidly. He described its progress to me, minute by
minute, like a professor in the dissecting room. He died with your name
upon his lips, calm, but full of anguish, like a hero.â
Clotilde listened, her eyes drowned in tears which flowed endlessly.
Every word of the relation of this piteous and stoical death penetrated
her heart and stamped itself there. She reconstructed every hour of the
dreadful day. She followed to its close its grand and mournful drama.
She would live it over in her thoughts forever.
But her despairing grief overflowed when Martine, who had entered the
room a moment before, said in a harsh voice:
âAh, mademoiselle has good reason to cry! for if monsieur is dead,
mademoiselle is to blame for it.â
The old servant stood apart, near the door of her kitchen, in such a
passion of angry grief, because they had taken her master from her,
because they had killed him, that she did not even try to find a word
of welcome or consolation for this child whom she had brought up. And
without calculating the consequences of her indiscretion, the grief or
the joy which she might cause, she relieved herself by telling all she
knew.
âYes, if monsieur has died, it is because mademoiselle went away.â
From the depths of her overpowering grief Clotilde protested. She had
expected to see Martine weeping with her, like Ramond, and she was
surprised to feel that she was an enemy.
âWhy, it was he who would not let me stay, who insisted upon my going
away,â she said.
âOh, well! mademoiselle must have been willing to go or she would
have been more clear-sighted. The night before your departure I found
monsieur half-suffocated with grief; and when I wished to inform
mademoiselle, he himself prevented me; he had such courage. Then I could
see it all, after mademoiselle had gone. Every night it was the same
thing over again, and he could hardly keep from writing to you to come
back. In short, he died of it, that is the pure truth.â
A great light broke in on Clotildeâs mind, making her at the same time
very happy and very wretched. Good God! what she had suspected for a
moment, was then true. Afterward she had been convinced, seeing Pascalâs
angry persistence, that he was speaking the truth; that between her and
work he had chosen work sincerely, like a man of science with whom love
of work has gained the victory over the love of woman. And yet he
had not spoken the truth; he had carried his devotion, his
self-forgetfulness to the point of immolating himself to what he
believed to be her happiness. And the misery of things willed that he
should have been mistaken, that he should have thus consummated the
unhappiness of both.
Clotilde again protested wildly:
âBut how could I have known? I obeyed; I put all my love in my
obedience.â
âAh,â cried Martine again, âit seems to me that I should have guessed.â
Ramond interposed gently. He took Clotildeâs hands once more in his, and
explained to her that grief might indeed have hastened the fatal issue,
but that the master had unhappily been doomed for some time past. The
affection of the heart from which he had suffered must have been of long
standing--a great deal of overwork, a certain part of heredity, and,
finally, his late absorbing love, and the poor heart had broken.
âLet us go upstairs,â said Clotilde simply. âI wish to see him.â
Upstairs in the death-chamber the blinds were closed, shutting out even
the melancholy twilight. On a little table at the foot of the bed burned
two tapers in two candlesticks. And they cast a pale yellow light on
Pascalâs form extended on the bed, the feet close together, the hands
folded on the breast. The eyes had been piously closed. The face, of a
bluish hue still, but already looking calm and peaceful, framed by the
flowing white hair and beard, seemed asleep. He had been dead scarcely
an hour and a half, yet already infinite serenity, eternal silence,
eternal repose, had begun.
Seeing him thus, at the thought that he no longer heard her, that he no
longer saw her, that she was alone now, that she was to kiss him for the
last time, and then lose him forever, Clotilde, in an outburst of
grief, threw herself upon the bed, and in broken accents of passionate
tenderness cried:
âOh, master, master, master--â
She pressed her lips to the dead manâs forehead, and, feeling it still
warm with life, she had a momentary illusion: she fancied that he
felt this last caress, so cruelly awaited. Did he not smile in his
immobility, happy at last, and able to die, now that he felt her here
beside him? Then, overcome by the dreadful reality, she burst again into
wild sobs.
Martine entered, bringing a lamp, which she placed on a corner of
the chimney-piece, and she heard Ramond, who was watching Clotilde,
disquieted at seeing her passionate grief, say:
âI shall take you away from the room if you give way like this. Consider
that you have some one else to think of now.â
The servant had been surprised at certain words which she had overheard
by chance during the day. Suddenly she understood, and she turned paler
even than before, and on her way out of the room, she stopped at the
door to hear more.
âThe key of the press is under his pillow,â said Ramond, lowering his
voice; âhe told me repeatedly to tell you so. You know what you have to
do?â
Clotilde made an effort to remember and to answer.
âWhat I have to do? About the papers, is it not? Yes, yes, I remember; I
am to keep the envelopes and to give you the other manuscripts. Have no
fear, I am quite calm, I will be very reasonable. But I will not leave
him; I will spend the night here very quietly, I promise you.â
She was so unhappy, she seemed so resolved to watch by him, to remain
with him, until he should be taken away, that the young physician
allowed her to have her way.
âWell, I will leave you now. They will be expecting me at home. Then
there are all sorts of formalities to be gone through--to give notice
at the mayorâs office, the funeral, of which I wish to spare you the
details. Trouble yourself about nothing. Everything will be arranged
to-morrow when I return.â
He embraced her once more and then went away. And it was only then that
Martine left the room, behind him, and locking the hall door she ran out
into the darkness.
Clotilde was now alone in the chamber; and all around and about her, in
the unbroken silence, she felt the emptiness of the house. Clotilde was
alone with the dead Pascal. She placed a chair at the head of the bed
and sat there motionless, alone. On arriving, she had merely removed her
hat: now, perceiving that she still had on her gloves, she took them
off also. But she kept on her traveling dress, crumpled and dusty, after
twenty hours of railway travel. No doubt Father Durieu had brought the
trunks long ago, and left them downstairs. But it did not occur to her,
nor had she the strength to wash herself and change her clothes, but
remained sitting, overwhelmed with grief, on the chair into which she
had dropped. One regret, a great remorse, filled her to the exclusion of
all else. Why had she obeyed him? Why had she consented to leave him?
If she had remained she had the ardent conviction that he would not have
died. She would have lavished so much love, so many caresses upon him,
that she would have cured him. If one was anxious to keep a beloved
being from dying one should remain with him and, if necessary, give
oneâs heartâs blood to keep him alive. It was her own fault if she had
lost him, if she could not now with a caress awaken him from his
eternal sleep. And she thought herself imbecile not to have understood;
cowardly, not to have devoted herself to him; culpable, and to be
forever punished for having gone away when plain common sense, in
default of feeling, ought to have kept her here, bound, as a submissive
and affectionate subject, to the task of watching over her king.
The silence had become so complete, so profound, that Clotilde lifted
her eyes for a moment from Pascalâs face to look around the room. She
saw only vague shadows--the two tapers threw two yellow patches on the
high ceiling. At this moment she remembered the letters he had written
to her, so short, so cold; and she comprehended his heroic sacrifice,
the torture it had been to him to silence his heart, desiring to
immolate himself to the end. What strength must he not have required
for the accomplishment of the plan of happiness, sublime and disastrous,
which he had formed for her. He had resolved to pass out of her life in
order to save her from his old age and his poverty; he wished her to be
rich and free, to enjoy her youth, far away from him; this indeed was
utter self-effacement, complete absorption in the love of another. And
she felt a profound gratitude, a sweet solace in the thought, mingled
with a sort of angry bitterness against evil fortune. Then, suddenly,
the happy years of her childhood and her long youth spent beside him who
had always been so kind and so good-humored, rose before her--how he had
gradually won her affection, how she had felt that she was his, after
the quarrels which had separated them for a time, and with what a
transport of joy she had at last given herself to him.
Seven oâclock struck. Clotilde started as the clear tones broke the
profound silence. Who was it that had spoken? Then she remembered, and
she looked at the clock. And when the last sound of the seven strokes,
each of which had fallen like a knell upon her heart, had died away, she
turned her eyes again on the motionless face of Pascal, and once more
she abandoned herself to her grief.
It was in the midst of this ever-increasing prostration that Clotilde, a
few minutes later, heard a sudden sound of sobbing. Some one had rushed
into the room; she looked round and saw her Grandmother Felicite. But
she did not stir, she did not speak, so benumbed was she with grief.
Martine, anticipating the orders which Clotilde would undoubtedly have
given her, had hurried to old Mme. Rougonâs, to give her the dreadful
news; and the latter, dazed at first by the suddenness of the
catastrophe, and afterward greatly agitated, had hurried to the house,
overflowing with noisy grief. She burst into tears at sight of her son,
and then embraced Clotilde, who returned her kiss, as in a dream. And
from this instant the latter, without emerging from the overwhelming
grief in which she isolated herself, felt that she was no longer alone,
hearing a continual stir and bustle going on around her. It was Felicite
crying, coming in and going out on tiptoe, setting things in order,
spying about, whispering, dropping into a chair, to get up again a
moment afterward, after saying that she was going to die in it. At nine
oâclock she made a last effort to persuade her granddaughter to eat
something. Twice already she had lectured her in a low voice; she came
now again to whisper to her:
âClotilde, my dear, I assure you you are wrong. You must keep up your
strength or you will never be able to hold out.â
But the young woman, with a shake of her head, again refused.
âCome, you breakfasted at the buffet at Marseilles, I suppose, but you
have eaten nothing since. Is that reasonable? I do not wish you to fall
ill also. Martine has some broth. I have told her to make a light soup
and to roast a chicken. Go down and eat a mouthful, only a mouthful, and
I will remain here.â
With the same patient gesture Clotilde again refused. At last she
faltered:
âDo not ask me, grandmother, I entreat you. I could not; it would choke
me.â
She did not speak again, falling back into her former state of apathy.
She did not sleep, however, her wide open eyes were fixed persistently
on Pascalâs face. For hours she sat there, motionless, erect, rigid, as
if her spirit were far away with the dead. At ten oâclock she heard a
noise; it was Martine bringing up the lamp. Toward eleven Felicite, who
was sitting watching in an armchair, seemed to grow restless, got up and
went out of the room, and came back again. From this forth there was a
continual coming and going as of impatient footsteps prowling around
the young woman, who was still awake, her large eyes fixed motionless on
Pascal. Twelve oâclock struck, and one persistent thought alone pierced
her weary brain, like a nail, and prevented sleep--why had she obeyed
him? If she had remained she would have revived him with her youth, and
he would not have died. And it was not until a little before one
that she felt this thought, too, grow confused and lose itself in a
nightmare. And she fell into a heavy sleep, worn out with grief and
fatigue.
When Martine had announced to Mme. Rougon the unexpected death of her
son Pascal, in the shock which she received there was as much of anger
as of grief. What! her dying son had not wished to see her; he had made
this servant swear not to inform her of his illness! This thought sent
the blood coursing swiftly through her veins, as if the struggle between
them, which had lasted during his whole life, was to be continued beyond
the grave. Then, when after hastily dressing herself she had hurried
to La Souleiade, the thought of the terrible envelopes, of all the
manuscripts piled up in the press, had filled her with trembling rage.
Now that Uncle Macquart and Aunt Dide were dead, she no longer feared
what she called the abomination of the Tulettes; and even poor little
Charles, in dying, had carried with him one of the most humiliating
of the blots on the family. There remained only the envelopes, the
abominable envelopes, to menace the glorious Rougon legend which she had
spent her whole life in creating, which was the sole thought of her old
age, the work to the triumph of which she had persistently devoted
the last efforts of her wily and active brain. For long years she had
watched these envelopes, never wearying, beginning the struggle over
again, when he had thought her beaten, always alert and persistent. Ah!
if she could only succeed in obtaining possession of them and destroying
them! It would be the execrable past destroyed, effaced; it would be the
glory of her family, so hardly won, at last freed from all fear, at last
shining untarnished, imposing its lie upon history. And she saw herself
traversing the three quarters of Plassans, saluted by every one, bearing
herself as proudly as a queen, mourning nobly for the fallen Empire. So
that when Martine informed her that Clotilde had come, she quickened her
steps as she approached La Souleiade, spurred by the fear of arriving
too late.
But as soon as she was installed in the house, Felicite at once regained
her composure. There was no hurry, they had the whole night before them.
She wished, however, to win over Martine without delay, and she knew
well how to influence this simple creature, bound up in the doctrines of
a narrow religion. Going down to the kitchen, then, to see the chicken
roasting, she began by affecting to be heartbroken at the thought of her
son dying without having made his peace with the Church. She questioned
the servant, pressing her for particulars. But the latter shook her head
disconsolately--no, no priest had come, monsieur had not even made the
sign of the cross. She, only, had knelt down to say the prayers for the
dying, which certainly could not be enough for the salvation of a soul.
And yet with what fervor she had prayed to the good God that monsieur
might go straight to Paradise!
With her eyes fixed on the chicken turning on the spit, before a bright
fire, Felicite resumed in a lower voice, with an absorbed air:
âAh, my poor girl, what will most prevent him from going to Paradise are
the abominable papers which the unhappy man has left behind him up there
in the press. I cannot understand why it is that lightning from heaven
has not struck those papers before this and reduced them to ashes. If
they are allowed to leave this house it will be ruin and disgrace and
eternal perdition!â
Martine listened, very pale.
âThen madame thinks it would be a good work to destroy them, a work that
would assure the repose of monsieurâs soul?â
âGreat God! Do I believe it! Why, if I had those dreadful papers in my
hands, I would throw every one of them into the fire. Oh, you would not
need then to put on any more sticks; with the manuscripts upstairs alone
you would have fuel enough to roast three chickens like that.â
The servant took a long spoon and began to baste the fowl. She, too,
seemed now to reflect.
âOnly we havenât got them. I even overheard some words on the subject,
which I may repeat to madame. It was when mademoiselle went upstairs.
Dr. Raymond spoke to her about the papers, asking her if she remembered
some orders which she had received, before she went away, no doubt; and
she answered that she remembered, that she was to keep the envelopes and
to give him all the other manuscripts.â
Felicite trembled; she could not restrain a terrified movement. Already
she saw the papers slipping out of her reach; and it was not the
envelopes only which she desired, but all the manuscripts, all that
unknown, suspicious, and secret work, from which nothing but scandal
could come, according to the obtuse and excitable mind of the proud old
_bourgeoise_.
âBut we must act!â she cried, âact immediately, this very night!
To-morrow it may be too late.â
âI know where the key of the press is,â answered Martine in a low voice.
âThe doctor told mademoiselle.â
Felicite immediately pricked up her ears.
âThe key; where is it?â
âUnder the pillow, under monsieurâs head.â
In spite of the bright blaze of the fire of vine branches the air seemed
to grow suddenly chill, and the two old women were silent. The only
sound to be heard was the drip of the chicken juice falling into the
pan.
But after Mme. Rougon had eaten a hasty and solitary dinner she went
upstairs again with Martine. Without another word being spoken they
understood each other, it was decided that they would use all possible
means to obtain possession of the papers before daybreak. The simplest
was to take the key from under the pillow. Clotilde would no doubt at
last fall asleep--she seemed too exhausted not to succumb to fatigue.
All they had to do was to wait. They set themselves to watch, then,
going back and forth on tiptoe between the study and the bedroom,
waiting for the moment when the young womanâs large motionless eyes
should close in sleep. One of them would go to see, while the other
waited impatiently in the study, where a lamp burned dully on the table.
This was repeated every fifteen minutes until midnight. The fathomless
eyes, full of gloom and of an immense despair, did not close. A little
before midnight Felicite installed herself in an armchair at the foot of
the bed, resolved not to leave the spot until her granddaughter should
have fallen asleep. From this forth she did not take her eyes off
Clotilde, and it filled her with a sort of fear to remark that the girl
scarcely moved her eyelids, looking with that inconsolable fixity which
defies sleep. Then she herself began to feel sleep stealing over her.
Exasperated, trembling with nervous impatience, she could remain where
she was no longer. And she went to rejoin the servant, who was watching
in the study.
âIt is useless; she will not sleep,â she said in a stifled and trembling
voice. âWe must find some other way.â
It had indeed occurred to her to break open the press.
But the old oaken boards were strong, the old iron held firmly. How
could they break the lock--not to speak of the noise they would make and
which would certainly be heard in the adjoining room?
She stood before the thick doors, however, and felt them with her
fingers, seeking some weak spot.
âIf I only had an instrument,â she said.
Martine, less eager, interrupted her, objecting: âOh, no, no, madame!
We might be surprised! Wait, I will go again and see if mademoiselle is
asleep now.â
She went to the bedroom on tiptoe and returned immediately, saying:
âYes, she is asleep. Her eyes are closed, and she does not stir.â
Then both went to look at her, holding their breath and walking with the
utmost caution, so that the boards might not creak. Clotilde had indeed
just fallen asleep: and her stupor seemed so profound that the two old
women grew bold. They feared, however, that they might touch and waken
her, for her chair stood close beside the bed. And then, to put
oneâs hand under a dead manâs pillow to rob him was a terrible and
sacrilegious act, the thought of which filled them with terror. Might it
not disturb his repose? Might he not move at the shock? The thought made
them turn pale.
Felicite had advanced with outstretched hand, but she drew back,
stammering:
âI am too short. You try, Martine.â
The servant in her turn approached the bed. But she was seized with such
a fit of trembling that she was obliged to retreat lest she should fall.
âNo, no, I cannot!â she said. âIt seems to me that monsieur is going to
open his eyes.â
And trembling and awe-struck they remained an instant longer in the
lugubrious chamber full of the silence and the majesty of death, facing
Pascal, motionless forever, and Clotilde, overwhelmed by the grief of
her widowhood. Perhaps they saw, glorifying that mute head, guarding
its work with all its weight, the nobility of a life spent in honorable
labor. The flame of the tapers burned palely. A sacred awe filled the
air, driving them from the chamber.
Felicite, who was so brave, who had never in her life flinched from
anything, not even from bloodshed, fled as if she was pursued, saying:
âCome, come, Martine, we will find some other way; we will go look for
an instrument.â
In the study they drew a breath of relief. Felicite looked in vain among
the papers on Pascalâs work-table for the genealogical tree, which
she knew was usually there. She would so gladly have begun her work of
destruction with this. It was there, but in her feverish excitement she
did not perceive it.
Her desire drew her back again to the press, and she stood before it,
measuring it and examining it with eager and covetous look. In spite of
her short stature, in spite of her eighty-odd years, she displayed an
activity and an energy that were truly extraordinary.
âAh!â she repeated, âif I only had an instrument!â
And she again sought the crevice in the colossus, the crack into which
she might introduce her fingers, to break it open. She imagined plans
of assault, she thought of using force, and then she fell back on
stratagem, on some piece of treachery which would open to her the doors,
merely by breathing upon them.
Suddenly her glance kindled; she had discovered the means.
âTell me, Martine; there is a hook fastening one of the doors, is there
not?â
âYes, madame; it catches in a ring above the middle shelf. See, it is
about the height of this molding.â
Felicite made a triumphant gesture.
âHave you a gimlet--a large gimlet? Give me a gimlet!â
Martine went down into her kitchen and brought back the tool that had
been asked.
âIn that way, you see, we shall make no noise,â resumed the old woman,
setting herself to her task.
With a strength which one would not have suspected in her little hands,
withered by age, she inserted the gimlet, and made a hole at the height
indicated by the servant. But it was too low; she felt the point, after
a time, entering the shelf. A second attempt brought the instrument in
direct contact with the iron hook. This time the hole was too near. And
she multiplied the holes to right and left, until finally she succeeded
in pushing the hook out of the ring. The bolt of the lock slipped, and
both doors opened.
âAt last!â cried Felicite, beside herself.
Then she remained motionless for a moment, her ear turned uneasily
toward the bedroom, fearing that she had wakened Clotilde. But silence
reigned throughout the dark and sleeping house. There came from the
bedroom only the august peace of death; she heard nothing but the clear
vibration of the clock; Clotilde fell asleep near one. And the press
yawned wide open, displaying the papers with which it overflowed, heaped
up on its three shelves. Then she threw herself upon it, and the work of
destruction began, in the midst of the sacred obscurity of the infinite
repose of this funereal vigil.
âAt last!â she repeated, in a low voice, âafter thirty years of waiting.
Let us hurry--let us hurry. Martine, help me!â
She had already drawn forward the high chair of the desk, and mounted on
it at a bound, to take down, first of all, the papers on the top shelf,
for she remembered that the envelopes were there. But she was surprised
not to see the thick blue paper wrappers; there was nothing there but
bulky manuscripts, the doctorâs completed but unpublished works, works
of inestimable value, all his researches, all his discoveries, the
monument of his future fame, which he had left in Ramondâs charge.
Doubtless, some days before his death, thinking that only the envelopes
were in danger, and that no one in the world would be so daring as to
destroy his other works, he had begun to classify and arrange the papers
anew, and removed the envelopes out of sight.
âAh, so much the worse!â murmured Felicite; âlet us begin anywhere;
there are so many of them that if we wish to get through we must
hurry. While I am up here, let us clear these away forever. Here, catch
Martine!â
And she emptied the shelf, throwing the manuscripts, one by one, into
the arms of the servant, who laid them on the table with as little noise
as possible. Soon the whole heap was on it, and Felicite sprang down
from the chair.
âTo the fire! to the fire! We shall lay our hands on the others,
and too, by and by, on those I am looking for. These can go into it,
meantime. It will be a good riddance, at any rate, a fine clearance,
yes, indeed! To the fire, to the fire with them all, even to the
smallest scrap of paper, even to the most illegible scrawl, if we wish
to be certain of destroying the contamination of evil.â
She herself, fanatical and fierce, in her hatred of the truth, in her
eagerness to destroy the testimony of science, tore off the first page
of one of the manuscripts, lighted it at the lamp, and then threw this
burning brand into the great fireplace, in which there had not been a
fire for perhaps twenty years, and she fed the fire, continuing to
throw on it the rest of the manuscript, piece by piece. The servant, as
determined as herself, came to her assistance, taking another enormous
notebook, which she tore up leaf by leaf. From this forth the fire did
not cease to burn, filling the wide fireplace with a bright blaze, with
tongues of flame that seemed to die away from time to time, only to
burn up more brightly than ever when fresh fuel fed them. The fire
grew larger, the heap of ashes rose higher and higher--a thick bed of
blackened leaves among which ran millions of sparks. But it was a long,
a never-ending task; for when several pages were thrown on at a time,
they would not burn; it was necessary to move them and turn them over
with the tongs; the best way was to stir them up and then wait until
they were in a blaze, before adding more. The women soon grew skilful at
their task, and the work progressed at a rapid rate.
In her haste to get a fresh armful of papers Felicite stumbled against a
chair.
âOh, madame, take care,â said Martine. âSome one might come!â
âCome? who should come? Clotilde? She is too sound asleep, poor girl.
And even if any one should come, once it is finished, I donât care;
I wonât hide myself, you may be sure; I shall leave the empty press
standing wide open; I shall say aloud that it is I who have purified
the house. When there is not a line of writing left, ah, good heavens! I
shall laugh at everything else!â
For almost two hours the fireplace blazed. They went back to the press
and emptied the two other shelves, and now there remained only the
bottom, which was heaped with a confusion of papers. Little by little,
intoxicated by the heat of the bonfire, out of breath and perspiring,
they gave themselves up to the savage joy of destruction. They stooped
down, they blackened their hands, pushing in the partially consumed
fragments, with gestures so violent, so feverishly excited, that their
gray locks fell in disorder over their shoulders. It was like a dance of
witches, feeding a hellish fire for some abominable act--the martyrdom
of a saint, the burning of written thought in the public square; a whole
world of truth and hope destroyed. And the blaze of this fire, which
at moments made the flame of the lamp grow pale, lighted up the vast
apartment, and made the gigantic shadows of the two women dance upon the
ceiling.
But as she was emptying the bottom of the press, after having burned,
handful by handful, the papers with which it had been filled, Felicite
uttered a stifled cry of triumph.
âAh, here they are! To the fire! to the fire!â
She had at last come upon the envelopes. Far back, behind the rampart
formed by the notes, the doctor had hidden the blue paper wrappers. And
then began a mad work of havoc, a fury of destruction; the envelopes
were gathered up in handfuls and thrown into the flames, filling the
fireplace with a roar like that of a conflagration.
âThey are burning, they are burning! They are burning at last! Here
is another, Martine, here is another. Ah, what a fire, what a glorious
fire!â
But the servant was becoming uneasy.
âTake care, madame, you are going to set the house on fire. Donât you
hear that roar?â
âAh! what does that matter? Let it all burn. They are burning, they are
burning; what a fine sight! Three more, two more, and, see, now the last
is burning!â
She laughed with delight, beside herself, terrible to see, when some
fragment of lighted soot fell down. The roar was becoming more and more
fierce; the chimney, which was never swept, had caught fire. This seemed
to excite her still more, while the servant, losing her head, began to
scream and run about the room.
Clotilde slept beside the dead Pascal, in the supreme calm of the
bedroom, unbroken save by the light vibration of the clock striking
the hours. The tapers burned with a tall, still flame, the air was
motionless. And yet, in the midst of her heavy, dreamless sleep, she
heard, as in a nightmare, a tumult, an ever-increasing rush and roar.
And when she opened her eyes she could not at first understand. Where
was she? Why this enormous weight that crushed her heart? She came back
to reality with a start of terror--she saw Pascal, she heard Martineâs
cries in the adjoining room, and she rushed out, in alarm, to learn
their cause.
But at the threshold Clotilde took in the whole scene with cruel
distinctness--the press wide open and completely empty; Martine maddened
by her fear of fire; Felicite radiant, pushing into the flames with her
foot the last fragments of the envelopes. Smoke and flying soot filled
the study, where the roaring of the fire sounded like the hoarse gasping
of a murdered man--the fierce roar which she had just heard in her
sleep.
And the cry which sprang from her lips was the same cry that Pascal
himself had uttered on the night of the storm, when he surprised her in
the act of stealing his papers.
âThieves! assassins!â
She precipitated herself toward the fireplace, and, in spite of the
dreadful roaring of the flames, in spite of the falling pieces of soot,
at the risk of setting her hair on fire, and of burning her hands,
she gathered up the leaves which remained yet unconsumed and bravely
extinguished them, pressing them against her. But all this was very
little, only some _debris_; not a complete page remained, not even a
few fragments of the colossal labor, of the vast and patient work of
a lifetime, which the fire had destroyed there in two hours. And with
growing anger, in a burst of furious indignation, she cried:
âYou are thieves, assassins! It is a wicked murder which you have just
committed. You have profaned death, you have slain the mind, you have
slain genius.â
Old Mme. Rougon did not quail. She advanced, on the contrary, feeling
no remorse, her head erect, defending the sentence of destruction
pronounced and executed by her.
âIt is to me you are speaking, to your grandmother. Is there nothing,
then, that you respect? I have done what I ought to have done, what you
yourself wished to do with us before.â
âBefore, you had made me mad; but since then I have lived, I have loved,
I have understood, and it is life that I defend. Even if it be terrible
and cruel, the truth ought to be respected. Besides, it was a sacred
legacy bequeathed to my protection, the last thoughts of a dead man, all
that remained of a great mind, and which I should have obliged every one
to respect. Yes, you are my grandmother; I am well aware of it, and it
is as if you had just burned your son!â
âBurn Pascal because I have burned his papers!â cried Felicite. âDo
you not know that I would have burned the town to save the honor of our
family!â
She continued to advance, belligerent and victorious; and Clotilde, who
had laid on the table the blackened fragments rescued by her from
the burning flames, protected them with her body, fearing that her
grandmother would throw them back again into the fire. She regarded the
two women scornfully; she did not even trouble herself about the fire
in the fireplace, which fortunately went out of itself, while Martine
extinguished with the shovel the burning soot and the last flames of the
smoldering ashes.
âYou know very well, however,â continued the old woman, whose little
figure seemed to grow taller, âthat I have had only one ambition, one
passion in life--to see our family rich and powerful. I have fought, I
have watched all my life, I have lived as long as I have done, only to
put down ugly stories and to leave our name a glorious one. Yes, I have
never despaired; I have never laid down my arms; I have been continually
on the alert, ready to profit by the slightest circumstance. And all I
desired to do I have done, because I have known how to wait.â
And she waved her hand toward the empty press and the fireplace, where
the last sparks were dying out.
âNow it is ended, our honor is safe; those abominable papers will no
longer accuse us, and I shall leave behind me nothing to be feared. The
Rougons have triumphed.â
Clotilde, in a frenzy of grief, raised her arm, as if to drive her out
of the room. But she left it of her own accord, and went down to the
kitchen to wash her blackened hands and to fasten up her hair. The
servant was about to follow her when, turning her head, she saw her
young mistressâ gesture, and she returned.
âOh! as for me, mademoiselle, I will go away the day after to-morrow,
when monsieur shall be in the cemetery.â
There was a momentâs silence.
âBut I am not sending you away, Martine. I know well that it is not you
who are most to blame. You have lived in this house for thirty years.
Remain, remain with me.â
The old maid shook her gray head, looking very pale and tired.
âNo, I have served monsieur; I will serve no one after monsieur.â
âBut I!â
âYou, no!â
Clotilde looked embarrassed, hesitated a moment, and remained silent.
But Martine understood; she too seemed to reflect for an instant, and
then she said distinctly:
âI know what you would say, but--no!â
And she went on to settle her account, arranging the affair like a
practical woman who knew the value of money.
âSince I have the means, I will go and live quietly on my income
somewhere. As for you, mademoiselle, I can leave you, for you are not
poor. M. Ramond will explain to you to-morrow how an income of four
thousand francs was saved for you out of the money at the notaryâs.
Meantime, here is the key of the desk, where you will find the five
thousand francs which monsieur left there. Oh? I know that there will
be no trouble between us. Monsieur did not pay me for the last three
months; I have papers from him which prove it. In addition, I advanced
lately almost two hundred francs out of my own pocket, without his
knowing where the money came from. It is all written down; I am not at
all uneasy; mademoiselle will not wrong me by a centime. The day after
to-morrow, when monsieur is no longer here, I will go away.â
Then she went down to the kitchen, and Clotilde, in spite of the
fanaticism of this woman, which had made her take part in a crime,
felt inexpressibly sad at this desertion. When she was gathering up the
fragments of the papers, however, before returning to the bedroom, she
had a thrill of joy, on suddenly seeing the genealogical tree, which
the two women had not perceived, lying unharmed on the table. It was the
only entire document saved from the wreck. She took it and locked it,
with the half-consumed fragments, in the bureau in the bedroom.
But when she found herself again in this august chamber a great emotion
took possession of her. What supreme calm, what immortal peace, reigned
here, beside the savage destruction that had filled the adjoining room
with smoke and ashes. A sacred serenity pervaded the obscurity; the two
tapers burned with a pure, still, unwavering flame. Then she saw that
Pascalâs face, framed in his flowing white hair and beard, had become
very white. He slept with the light falling upon him, surrounded by a
halo, supremely beautiful. She bent down, kissed him again, felt on her
lips the cold of the marble face, with its closed eyelids, dreaming its
dream of eternity. Her grief at not being able to save the work which he
had left to her care was so overpowering that she fell on her knees and
burst into a passion of sobs. Genius had been violated; it seemed to her
as if the world was about to be destroyed in this savage destruction of
a whole life of labor.
XIV.
In the study Clotilde was buttoning her dress, holding her child, whom
she had been nursing, still in her lap. It was after lunch, about
three oâclock on a hot sunny day at the end of August, and through the
crevices of the carefully closed shutters only a few scattered sunbeams
entered, piercing the drowsy and warm obscurity of the vast apartment.
The rest and peace of the Sunday seemed to enter and diffuse itself
in the room with the last sounds of the distant vesper bell. Profound
silence reigned in the empty house in which the mother and child were to
remain alone until dinner time, the servant having asked permission to
go see a cousin in the faubourg.
For an instant Clotilde looked at her child, now a big boy of three
months. She had been wearing mourning for Pascal for almost ten
months--a long and simple black gown, in which she looked divinely
beautiful, with her tall, slender figure and her sad, youthful face
surrounded by its aureole of fair hair. And although she could not
smile, it filled her with sweet emotion to see the beautiful child, so
plump and rosy, with his mouth still wet with milk, whose gaze had
been arrested by the sunbeam full of dancing motes. His eyes were fixed
wonderingly on the golden brightness, the dazzling miracle of light.
Then sleep came over him, and he let his little, round, bare head,
covered thinly with fair hair, fall back on his motherâs arm.
Clotilde rose softly and laid him in the cradle, which stood beside the
table. She remained leaning over him for an instant to assure herself
that he was asleep; then she let down the curtain in the already
darkened room. Then she busied herself with supple and noiseless
movements, walking with so light a step that she scarcely touched the
floor, in putting away some linen which was on the table. Twice she
crossed the room in search of a little missing sock. She was very
silent, very gentle, and very active. And now, in the solitude of the
house, she fell into a reverie and all the past year arose before her.
First, after the dreadful shock of the funeral, came the departure of
Martine, who had obstinately kept to her determination of going away at
once, not even remaining for the customary week, bringing to replace her
the young cousin of a baker in the neighborhood--a stout brunette, who
fortunately proved very neat and faithful. Martine herself lived at
Sainte-Marthe, in a retired corner, so penuriously that she must be
still saving even out of her small income. She was not known to have any
heir. Who, then, would profit by this miserliness? In ten months she had
not once set foot in La Souleiade--monsieur was not there, and she had
not even the desire to see monsieurâs son.
Then in Clotildeâs reverie rose the figure of her grandmother Felicite.
The latter came to see her from time to time with the condescension of a
powerful relation who is liberal-minded enough to pardon all faults when
they have been cruelly expiated. She would come unexpectedly, kiss
the child, moralize, and give advice, and the young mother had adopted
toward her the respectful attitude which Pascal had always maintained.
Felicite was now wholly absorbed in her triumph. She was at last about
to realize a plan that she had long cherished and maturely deliberated,
which would perpetuate by an imperishable monument the untarnished glory
of the family. The plan was to devote her fortune, which had become
considerable, to the construction and endowment of an asylum for the
aged, to be called Rougon Asylum. She had already bought the ground,
a part of the old mall outside the town, near the railway station; and
precisely on this Sunday, at five oâclock, when the heat should have
abated a little, the first stone was to be laid, a really solemn
ceremony, to be honored by the presence of all the authorities, and of
which she was to be the acknowledged queen, before a vast concourse of
people.
Clotilde felt, besides, some gratitude toward her grandmother, who
had shown perfect disinterestedness on the occasion of the opening
of Pascalâs will. The latter had constituted the young woman his
sole legatee; and the mother, who had a right to a fourth part,
after declaring her intention to respect her sonâs wishes, had simply
renounced her right to the succession. She wished, indeed, to disinherit
all her family, bequeathing to them glory only, by employing her large
fortune in the erection of this asylum, which was to carry down to
future ages the revered and glorious name of the Rougons; and after
having, for more than half a century, so eagerly striven to acquire
money, she now disdained it, moved by a higher and purer ambition. And
Clotilde, thanks to this liberality, had no uneasiness regarding the
future--the four thousand francs income would be sufficient for her and
her child. She would bring him up to be a man. She had sunk the five
thousand francs that she had found in the desk in an annuity for him;
and she owned, besides, La Souleiade, which everybody advised her
to sell. True, it cost but little to keep it up, but what a sad and
solitary life she would lead in that great deserted house, much too
large for her, where she would be lost. Thus far, however, she had not
been able to make up her mind to leave it. Perhaps she would never be
able to do so.
Ah, this La Souleiade! all her love, all her life, all her memories were
centered in it. It seemed to her at times as if Pascal were living here
still, for she had changed nothing of their former manner of living.
The furniture remained in the same places, the hours were the same, the
habits the same. The only change she had made was to lock his room,
into which only she went, as into a sanctuary, to weep when she felt her
heart too heavy. And although indeed she felt very lonely, very lost, at
each meal in the bright dining-room downstairs, in fancy she heard there
the echoes of their laughter, she recalled the healthy appetite of her
youth; when they two had eaten and drank so gaily, rejoicing in their
existence. And the garden, too, the whole place was bound up with the
most intimate fibers of her being, for she could not take a step in it
that their united images did not appear before her--on the terrace; in
the slender shadow of the great secular cypresses, where they had so
often contemplated the valley of the Viorne, closed in by the ridges of
the Seille and the parched hills of Sainte-Marthe; the stone steps among
the puny olive and almond trees, which they had so often challenged
each other to run up in a trial of speed, like boys just let loose from
school; and there was the pine grove, too, the warm, embalsamed shade,
where the needles crackled under their feet; the vast threshing yard,
carpeted with soft grass, where they could see the whole sky at night,
when the stars were coming out; and above all there were the giant plane
trees, whose delightful shade they had enjoyed every day in summer,
listening to the soothing song of the fountain, the crystal clear song
which it had sung for centuries. Even to the old stones of the house,
even to the earth of the grounds, there was not an atom at La Souleiade
in which she did not feel a little of their blood warmly throbbing, with
which she did not feel a little of their life diffused and mingled.
But she preferred to spend her days in the workroom, and here it was
that she lived over again her best hours. There was nothing new in it
but the cradle. The doctorâs table was in its place before the window to
the left--she could fancy him coming in and sitting down at it, for his
chair had not even been moved. On the long table in the center, among
the old heap of books and papers, there was nothing new but the cheerful
note of the little baby linen, which she was looking over. The bookcases
displayed the same rows of volumes; the large oaken press seemed to
guard within its sides the same treasure, securely shut in. Under the
smoky ceiling the room was still redolent of work, with its confusion of
chairs, the pleasant disorder of this common workroom, filled with the
caprices of the girl and the researches of the scientist. But what most
moved her to-day was the sight of her old pastels hanging against the
wall, the copies which she had made of living flowers, scrupulously
exact copies, and of dream flowers of an imaginary world, whither her
wild fancy sometimes carried her.
Clotilde had just finished arranging the little garments on the table
when, lifting her eyes, she perceived before her the pastel of old
King David, with his hand resting on the shoulder of Abishag the young
Shunammite. And she, who now never smiled, felt her face flush with a
thrill of tender and pleasing emotion. How they had loved each other,
how they had dreamed of an eternity of love the day on which she had
amused herself painting this proud and loving allegory! The old king,
sumptuously clad in a robe hanging in straight folds, heavy with
precious stones, wore the royal bandeau on his snowy locks; but she was
more sumptuous still, with only her tall slender figure, her delicate
round throat, and her supple arms, divinely graceful. Now he was gone,
he was sleeping under the ground, while she, her pure and triumphant
beauty concealed by her black robes, had only her child to express the
love she had given him before the assembled people, in the full light of
day.
Then Clotilde sat down beside the cradle. The slender sunbeams
lengthened, crossing the room from end to end, the heat of the warm
afternoon grew oppressive in the drowsy obscurity made by the closed
shutters, and the silence of the house seemed more profound than
before. She set apart some little waists, she sewed on some tapes with
slow-moving needle, and gradually she fell into a reverie in the warm
deep peacefulness of the room, in the midst of the glowing heat outside.
Her thoughts first turned to her pastels, the exact copies and the
fantastic dream flowers; she said to herself now that all her dual
nature was to be found in that passion for truth, which had at times
kept her a whole day before a flower in order to copy it with exactness,
and in her need of the spiritual, which at other times took her outside
the real, and carried her in wild dreams to the paradise of flowers such
as had never grown on earth. She had always been thus. She felt that she
was in reality the same to-day as she had been yesterday, in the midst
of the flow of new life which ceaselessly transformed her. And then she
thought of Pascal, full of gratitude that he had made her what she was.
In days past when, a little girl, he had removed her from her execrable
surroundings and taken her home with him, he had undoubtedly followed
the impulses of his good heart, but he had also undoubtedly desired
to try an experiment with her, to see how she would grow up in the
different environment, in an atmosphere of truthfulness and affection.
This had always been an idea of his. It was an old theory of his
which he would have liked to test on a large scale: culture through
environment, complete regeneration even, the improvement, the salvation
of the individual, physically as well as morally. She owed to him
undoubtedly the best part of her nature; she guessed how fanciful and
violent she might have become, while he had made her only enthusiastic
and courageous.
In this retrospection she was clearly conscious of the gradual change
that had taken place within her. Pascal had corrected her heredity,
and she lived over again the slow evolution, the struggle between the
fantastic and the real in her. It had begun with her outbursts of anger
as a child, a ferment of rebellion, a want of mental balance that had
caused her to indulge in most hurtful reveries. Then came her fits
of extreme devotion, the need of illusion and falsehood, of immediate
happiness in the thought that the inequalities and injustices of this
wicked world would he compensated by the eternal joys of a future
paradise. This was the epoch of her struggles with Pascal, of the
torture which she had caused him, planning to destroy the work of his
genius. And at this point her nature had changed; she had acknowledged
him for her master. He had conquered her by the terrible lesson of life
which he had given her on the night of the storm. Then, environment had
acted upon her, evolution had proceeded rapidly, and she had ended by
becoming a well-balanced and rational woman, willing to live life as it
ought to be lived, satisfied with doing her work in the hope that the
sum of the common labor would one day free the world from evil and pain.
She had loved, she was a mother now, and she understood.
Suddenly she remembered the night which they had spent in the threshing
yard. She could still hear her lamentation under the stars--the cruelty
of nature, the inefficacy of science, the wickedness of humanity, and
the need she felt of losing herself in God, in the Unknown. Happiness
consisted in self-renunciation. Then she heard him repeat his creed--the
progress of reason through science, truths acquired slowly and forever
the only possible good, the belief that the sum of these truths, always
augmenting, would finally confer upon man incalculable power and peace,
if not happiness. All was summed up in his ardent faith in life. As he
expressed it, it was necessary to march with life, which marched always.
No halt was to be expected, no peace in immobility and renunciation, no
consolation in turning back. One must keep a steadfast soul, the only
ambition to perform oneâs work, modestly looking for no other reward
of life than to have lived it bravely, accomplishing the task which it
imposes. Evil was only an accident not yet explained, humanity appearing
from a great height like an immense wheel in action, working ceaselessly
for the future. Why should the workman who disappeared, having finished
his dayâs work, abuse the work because he could neither see nor know its
end? Even if it were to have no end why should he not enjoy the delight
of action, the exhilarating air of the march, the sweetness of sleep
after the fatigue of a long and busy day? The children would carry on
the task of the parents; they were born and cherished only for this, for
the task of life which is transmitted to them, which they in their turn
will transmit to others. All that remained, then, was to be courageously
resigned to the grand common labor, without the rebellion of the ego,
which demands personal happiness, perfect and complete.
She questioned herself, and she found that she did not experience that
anguish which had filled her formerly at the thought of what was to
follow death. This anxiety about the Beyond no longer haunted her until
it became a torture. Formerly she would have liked to wrest by force
from heaven the secrets of destiny. It had been a source of infinite
grief to her not to know why she existed. Why are we born? What do we
come on earth to do? What is the meaning of this execrable existence,
without equality, without justice, which seemed to her like a fevered
dream? Now her terror was calmed; she could think of these things
courageously. Perhaps it was her child, the continuation of herself,
which now concealed from her the horror of her end. But her regular life
contributed also to this, the thought that it was necessary to live for
the effort of living, and that the only peace possible in this world was
in the joy of the accomplishment of this effort. She repeated to herself
a remark of the doctor, who would often say when he saw a peasant
returning home with a contented look after his dayâs work: âThere is a
man whom anxiety about the Beyond will not prevent from sleeping.â He
meant to say that this anxiety troubles and perverts only excitable
and idle brains. If all performed their healthful task, all would sleep
peacefully at night. She herself had felt the beneficent power of work
in the midst of her sufferings and her grief. Since he had taught her to
employ every one of her hours; since she had been a mother, especially,
occupied constantly with her child, she no longer felt a chill of
horror when she thought of the Unknown. She put aside without an effort
disquieting reveries; and if she still felt an occasional fear, if
some of her daily griefs made her sick at heart, she found comfort and
unfailing strength in the thought that her child was this day a day
older, that he would be another day older on the morrow, that day
by day, page by page, his work of life was being accomplished. This
consoled her delightfully for all her miseries. She had a duty, an
object, and she felt in her happy serenity that she was doing surely
what she had been sent here to do.
Yet, even at this very moment she knew that the mystic was not entirely
dead within her. In the midst of the profound silence she heard a slight
noise, and she raised her head. Who was the divine mediator that
had passed? Perhaps the beloved dead for whom she mourned, and whose
presence near her she fancied she could divine. There must always be
in her something of the childlike believer she had always been, curious
about the Unknown, having an instinctive longing for the mysterious.
She accounted to herself for this longing, she even explained it
scientifically. However far science may extend the limits of human
knowledge, there is undoubtedly a point which it cannot pass; and it
was here precisely that Pascal placed the only interest in life--in
the effort which we ceaselessly make to know more--there was only one
reasonable meaning in life, this continual conquest of the unknown.
Therefore, she admitted the existence of undiscovered forces surrounding
the world, an immense and obscure domain, ten times larger than the
domain already won, an infinite and unexplored realm through which
future humanity would endlessly ascend. Here, indeed, was a field vast
enough for the imagination to lose itself in. In her hours of reverie
she satisfied in it the imperious need which man seems to have for the
spiritual, a need of escaping from the visible world, of interrogating
the Unknown, of satisfying in it the dream of absolute justice and of
future happiness. All that remained of her former torture, her last
mystic transports, were there appeased. She satisfied there that hunger
for consoling illusions which suffering humanity must satisfy in order
to live. But in her all was happily balanced. At this crisis, in an
epoch overburdened with science, disquieted at the ruins it has made,
and seized with fright in the face of the new century, wildly desiring
to stop and to return to the past, Clotilde kept the happy mean; in her
the passion for truth was broadened by her eagerness to penetrate the
Unknown. If sectarian scientists shut out the horizon to keep strictly
to the phenomenon, it was permitted to her, a good, simple creature, to
reserve the part that she did not know, that she would never know. And
if Pascalâs creed was the logical deduction from the whole work, the
eternal question of the Beyond, which she still continued to put to
heaven, reopened the door of the infinite to humanity marching ever
onward. Since we must always learn, while resigning ourselves never
to know all, was it not to will action, life itself, to reserve the
Unknown--an eternal doubt and an eternal hope?
Another sound, as of a wing passing, the light touch of a kiss upon her
hair, this time made her smile. He was surely here; and her whole being
went out toward him, in the great flood of tenderness with which her
heart overflowed. How kind and cheerful he was, and what a love for
others underlay his passionate love of life! Perhaps he, too, had been
only a dreamer, for he had dreamed the most beautiful of dreams, the
final belief in a better world, when science should have bestowed
incalculable power upon man--to accept everything, to turn everything
to our happiness, to know everything and to foresee everything, to
make nature our servant, to live in the tranquillity of intelligence
satisfied. Meantime faith in life, voluntary and regular labor, would
suffice for health. Evil was only the unexplained side of things;
suffering would one day be assuredly utilized. And regarding from above
the enormous labor of the world, seeing the sum total of humanity, good
and bad--admirable, in spite of everything, for their courage and
their industry--she now regarded all mankind as united in a common
brotherhood, she now felt only boundless indulgence, an infinite
pity, and an ardent charity. Love, like the sun, bathes the earth, and
goodness is the great river at which all hearts drink.
Clotilde had been plying her needle for two hours, with the same regular
movement, while her thoughts wandered away in the profound silence. But
the tapes were sewed on the little waists, she had even marked some new
wrappers, which she had bought the day before. And, her sewing finished,
she rose to put the linen away. Outside the sun was declining, and
only slender and oblique sunbeams entered through the crevices of the
shutters. She could not see clearly, and she opened one of the shutters,
then she forgot herself for a moment, at the sight of the vast horizon
suddenly unrolled before her. The intense heat had abated, a delicious
breeze was blowing, and the sky was of a cloudless blue. To the left
could be distinguished even the smallest clumps of pines, among the
blood-colored ravines of the rocks of the Seille, while to the right,
beyond the hills of Sainte-Marthe, the valley of the Viorne stretched
away in the golden dust of the setting sun. She looked for a moment at
the tower of St. Saturnin, all golden also, dominating the rose-colored
town; and she was about to leave the window when she saw a sight that
drew her back and kept her there, leaning on her elbow for a long time
still.
Beyond the railroad a multitude of people were crowded together on the
old mall. Clotilde at once remembered the ceremony. She knew that her
Grandmother Felicite was going to lay the first stone of the Rougon
Asylum, the triumphant monument destined to carry down to future ages
the glory of the family. Vast preparations had been going on for a week
past. There was talk of a silver hod and trowel, which the old lady was
to use herself, determined to figure to triumph, with her eighty-two
years. What swelled her heart with regal pride was that on this occasion
she made the conquest of Plassans for the third time, for she compelled
the whole town, all the three quarters, to range themselves around her,
to form an escort for her, and to applaud her as a benefactress. For, of
course, there had to be present lady patronesses, chosen from among the
noblest ladies of the Quartier St. Marc; a delegation from the
societies of working-women of the old quarter, and, finally, the
most distinguished residents of the new town, advocates, notaries,
physicians, without counting the common people, a stream of people
dressed in their Sunday clothes, crowding there eagerly, as to a
festival. And in the midst of this supreme triumph she was perhaps
most proud--she, one of the queens of the Second Empire, the widow who
mourned with so much dignity the fallen government--in having
conquered the young republic itself, obliging it, in the person of the
sub-prefect, to come and salute her and thank her. At first there had
been question only of a discourse of the mayor; but it was known with
certainty, since the previous day, that the sub-prefect also would
speak. From so great a distance Clotilde could distinguish only a moving
crowd of black coats and light dresses, under the scorching sun. Then
there was a distant sound of music, the music of the amateur band of the
town, the sonorous strains of whose brass instruments were borne to her
at intervals on the breeze.
She left the window and went and opened the large oaken press to put
away in it the linen that had remained on the table. It was in this
press, formerly so full of the doctorâs manuscripts, and now empty,
that she kept the babyâs wardrobe. It yawned open, vast, seemingly
bottomless, and on the large bare shelves there was nothing but the baby
linen, the little waists, the little caps, the little socks, all the
fine clothing, the down of the bird still in the nest. Where so many
thoughts had been stored up, where a manâs unremitting labor for thirty
years had accumulated in an overflowing heap of papers, there was now
only a babyâs clothing, only the first garments which would protect it
for an hour, as it were, and which very soon it could no longer use.
The vastness of the antique press seemed brightened and all refreshed by
them.
When Clotilde had arranged the wrappers and the waists upon a shelf,
she perceived a large envelope containing the fragments of the documents
which she had placed there after she had rescued them from the fire. And
she remembered a request which Dr. Ramond had come only the day before
to make her--that she would see if there remained among this _debris_
any fragment of importance having a scientific interest. He was
inconsolable for the loss of the precious manuscripts which the master
had bequeathed to him. Immediately after the doctorâs death he had made
an attempt to write from memory his last talk, that summary of vast
theories expounded by the dying man with so heroic a serenity; but he
could recall only parts of it. He would have needed complete notes,
observations made from day to day, the results obtained, and the laws
formulated. The loss was irreparable, the task was to be begun over
again, and he lamented having only indications; he said that it would be
at least twenty years before science could make up the loss, and take up
and utilize the ideas of the solitary pioneer whose labors a wicked and
imbecile catastrophe had destroyed.
The genealogical tree, the only document that had remained intact, was
attached to the envelope, and Clotilde carried the whole to the table
beside the cradle. After she had taken out the fragments, one by one,
she found, what she had been already almost certain of, that not a
single entire page of manuscript remained, not a single complete note
having any meaning. There were only fragments of documents, scraps of
half-burned and blackened paper, without sequence or connection. But as
she examined them, these incomplete phrases, these words half consumed
by fire, assumed for her an interest which no one else could have
understood. She remembered the night of the storm, and the phrases
completed themselves, the beginning of a word evoked before her persons
and histories. Thus her eye fell on Maximeâs name, and she reviewed
the life of this brother who had remained a stranger to her, and whose
death, two months before, had left her almost indifferent. Then, a
half-burned scrap containing her fatherâs name gave her an uneasy
feeling, for she believed that her father had obtained possession of the
fortune and the house on the avenue of Bois de Boulogne through the good
offices of his hairdresserâs niece, the innocent Rose, repaid, no doubt,
by a generous percentage. Then she met with other names, that of
her uncle Eugene, the former vice emperor, now dead, the cure
of Saint-Eutrope, who, she had been told yesterday, was dying of
consumption. And each fragment became animated in this way; the
execrable family lived again in these scraps, these black ashes, where
were now only disconnected words.
Then Clotilde had the curiosity to unfold the genealogical tree and
spread it out upon the table. A strong emotion gained on her; she was
deeply affected by these relics; and when she read once more the notes
added in pencil by Pascal, a few moments before his death, tears rose to
her eyes. With what courage he had written down the date of his death!
And what despairing regret for life one divined in the trembling words
announcing the birth of the child! The tree ascended, spread out
its branches, unfolded its leaves, and she remained for a long time
contemplating it, saying to herself that all the work of the master
was to be found here in the classified records of this family tree.
She could still hear certain of his words commenting on each hereditary
case, she recalled his lessons. But the children, above all, interested
her; she read again and again the notes on the leaves which bore their
names. The doctorâs colleague in Noumea, to whom he had written for
information about the child born of the marriage of the convict Etienne,
had at last made up his mind to answer; but the only information he gave
was in regard to the sex--it was a girl, he said, and she seemed to be
healthy. Octave Mouret had come near losing his daughter, who had always
been very frail, while his little boy continued to enjoy superb health.
But the chosen abode of vigorous health and of extraordinary fecundity
was still the house of Jean, at Valqueyras, whose wife had had two
children in three years and was about to have a third. The nestlings
throve in the sunshine, in the heart of a fertile country, while the
father sang as he guided his plow, and the mother at home cleverly made
the soup and kept the children in order. There was enough new vitality
and industry there to make another family, a whole race. Clotilde
fancied at this moment that she could hear Pascalâs cry: âAh, our
family! what is it going to be, in what kind of being will it end?â And
she fell again into a reverie, looking at the tree sending its latest
branches into the future. Who could tell whence the healthy branch would
spring? Perhaps the great and good man so long awaited was germinating
there.
A slight cry drew Clotilde from her reflections. The muslin curtain of
the cradle seemed to become animate. It was the child who had wakened up
and was moving about and calling to her. She at once took him out of the
cradle and held him up gaily, that he might bathe in the golden light of
the setting sun. But he was insensible to the beauty of the closing day;
his little vacant eyes, still full of sleep, turned away from the vast
sky, while he opened wide his rosy and ever hungry mouth, like a bird
opening its beak. And he cried so loud, he had wakened up so ravenous,
that she decided to nurse him again. Besides, it was his hour; it would
soon be three hours since she had last nursed him.
Clotilde sat down again beside the table. She took him on her lap, but
he was not very good, crying louder and louder, growing more and more
impatient; and she looked at him with a smile while she unfastened her
dress, showing her round, slender throat. Already the child knew, and
raising himself he felt with his lips for the breast. When she placed
it in his mouth he gave a little grunt of satisfaction; he threw himself
upon her with the fine, voracious appetite of a young gentleman who was
determined to live. At first he had clutched the breast with his little
free hand, as if to show that it was his, to defend it and to guard it.
Then, in the joy of the warm stream that filled his throat he raised his
little arm straight up, like a flag. And Clotilde kept her unconscious
smile, seeing him so healthy, so rosy, and so plump, thriving so well
on the nourishment he drew from her. During the first few weeks she had
suffered from a fissure, and even now her breast was sensitive; but she
smiled, notwithstanding, with that peaceful look which mothers wear,
happy in giving their milk as they would give their blood.
When she had unfastened her dress, showing her bare throat and breast,
in the solitude and silence of the study, another of her mysteries,
one of her sweetest and most hidden secrets, was revealed at the same
time--the slender necklace with the seven pearls, the seven fine, milky
stars which the master had put around her neck on a day of misery, in
his mania for giving. Since it had been there no one else had seen it.
It seemed as if she guarded it with as much modesty as if it were a part
of her flesh, so simple, so pure, so childlike. And all the time the
child was nursing she alone looked at it in a dreamy reverie, moved by
the tender memory of the kisses whose warm perfume it still seemed to
keep.
A burst of distant music seemed to surprise Clotilde. She turned her
head and looked across the fields gilded by the oblique rays of the sun.
Ah, yes! the ceremony, the laying of the corner stone yonder! Then
she turned her eyes again on the child, and she gave herself up to the
delight of seeing him with so fine an appetite. She had drawn forward a
little bench, to raise one of her knees, resting her foot upon it,
and she leaned one shoulder against the table, beside the tree and the
blackened fragments of the envelopes. Her thoughts wandered away in an
infinitely sweet reverie, while she felt the best part of herself, the
pure milk, flowing softly, making more and more her own the dear being
she had borne. The child had come, the redeemer, perhaps. The bells
rang, the three wise men had set out, followed by the people, by
rejoicing nature, smiling on the infant in its swaddling clothes. She,
the mother, while he drank life in long draughts, was dreaming already
of his future. What would he be when she should have made him tall and
strong, giving herself to him entirely? A scientist, perhaps, who would
reveal to the world something of the eternal truth; or a great captain,
who would confer glory on his country; or, still better, one of those
shepherds of the people who appease the passions and bring about the
reign of justice. She saw him, in fancy, beautiful, good and powerful.
Hers was the dream of every mother--the conviction that she had brought
the expected Messiah into the world; and there was in this hope, in this
obstinate belief, which every mother has in the certain triumph of her
child, the hope which itself makes life, the belief which gives humanity
the ever renewed strength to live still.
What would the child be? She looked at him, trying to discover whom
he resembled. He had certainly his fatherâs brow and eyes, there
was something noble and strong in the breadth of the head. She saw a
resemblance to herself, too, in his fine mouth and his delicate chin.
Then, with secret uneasiness, she sought a resemblance to the others,
the terrible ancestors, all those whose names were there inscribed on
the tree, unfolding its growth of hereditary leaves. Was it this one, or
this, or yet this other, whom he would resemble? She grew calm, however,
she could not but hope, her heart swelled with eternal hope. The
faith in life which the master had implanted in her kept her brave and
steadfast. What did misery, suffering and wickedness matter! Health was
in universal labor, in the effort made, in the power which fecundates
and which produces. The work was good when the child blessed love. Then
hope bloomed anew, in spite of the open wounds, the dark picture of
human shame. It was life perpetuated, tried anew, life which we can
never weary of believing good, since we live it so eagerly, with all its
injustice and suffering.
Clotilde had glanced involuntarily at the ancestral tree spread out
beside her. Yes, the menace was there--so many crimes, so much filth,
side by side with so many tears, and so much patient goodness; so
extraordinary a mixture of the best and the most vile, a humanity in
little, with all its defects and all its struggles. It was a question
whether it would not be better that a thunderbolt should come and
destroy all this corrupt and miserable ant-hill. And after so many
terrible Rougons, so many vile Macquarts, still another had been born.
Life did not fear to create another of them, in the brave defiance of
its eternity. It continued its work, propagated itself according to its
laws, indifferent to theories, marching on in its endless labor. Even
at the risk of making monsters, it must of necessity create, since, in
spite of all it creates, it never wearies of creating in the hope, no
doubt, that the healthy and the good will one day come. Life, life,
which flows like a torrent, which continues its work, beginning it over
and over again, without pause, to the unknown end! life in which we
bathe, life with its infinity of contrary currents, always in motion,
and vast as a boundless sea!
A transport of maternal fervor thrilled Clotildeâs heart, and she
smiled, seeing the little voracious mouth drinking her life. It was a
prayer, an invocation, to the unknown child, as to the unknown God! To
the child of the future, to the genius, perhaps, that was to be, to the
Messiah that the coming century awaited, who would deliver the people
from their doubt and their suffering! Since the nation was to be
regenerated, had he not come for this work? He would make the experiment
anew, he would raise up walls, give certainty to those who were in
doubt, he would build the city of justice, where the sole law of
labor would insure happiness. In troublous times prophets were to be
expected--at least let him not be the Antichrist, the destroyer, the
beast foretold in the Apocalypse--who would purge the earth of its
wickedness, when this should become too great. And life would go on
in spite of everything, only it would be necessary to wait for other
myriads of years before the other unknown child, the benefactor, should
appear.
But the child had drained her right breast, and, as he was growing
angry, Clotilde turned him round and gave him the left. Then she began
to smile, feeling the caress of his greedy little lips. At all events
she herself was hope. A mother nursing, was she not the image of the
world continued and saved? She bent over, she looked into his limpid
eyes, which opened joyously, eager for the light. What did the child say
to her that she felt her heart beat more quickly under the breast which
he was draining? To what cause would he give his blood when he should
be a man, strong with all the milk which he would have drunk? Perhaps he
said nothing to her, perhaps he already deceived her, and yet she was so
happy, so full of perfect confidence in him.
Again there was a distant burst of music. This must be the apotheosis,
the moment when Grandmother Felicite, with her silver trowel, laid the
first stone of the monument to the glory of the Rougons. The vast blue
sky, gladdened by the Sunday festivities, rejoiced. And in the warm
silence, in the solitary peace of the workroom, Clotilde smiled at the
child, who was still nursing, his little arm held straight up in the
air, like a signal flag of life.
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Question: What country does Clotilde go to?
Answer: Paris
|
{
"task_name": "narrativeqa"
}
|
package org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5;
import java.io.IOException;
import java.util.Arrays;
import java.util.HashMap;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.Map;
import javax.ws.rs.Consumes;
import javax.ws.rs.GET;
import javax.ws.rs.HeaderParam;
import javax.ws.rs.POST;
import javax.ws.rs.Path;
import javax.ws.rs.Produces;
import javax.ws.rs.QueryParam;
import javax.ws.rs.core.MediaType;
import org.knowm.xchange.currency.Currency;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.OkexException;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.OkexResponse;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.account.OkexAssetBalance;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.account.OkexDepositAddress;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.account.OkexTradeFee;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.account.OkexWalletBalance;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.account.PiggyBalance;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.marketdata.OkexCurrency;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.subaccount.OkexSubAccountDetails;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.trade.OkexAmendOrderRequest;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.trade.OkexCancelOrderRequest;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.trade.OkexOrderDetails;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.trade.OkexOrderRequest;
import org.knowm.xchange.okex.v5.dto.trade.OkexOrderResponse;
import si.mazi.rescu.ParamsDigest;
@Path("/api/v5")
@Produces(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
public interface OkexAuthenticated extends Okex {
String balancePath = "/account/balance"; // Stated as 10 req/2 sec
String tradeFeePath = "/account/trade-fee"; // Stated as 5 req/2 sec
String currenciesPath = "/asset/currencies"; // Stated as 6 req/sec
String assetBalancesPath = "/asset/balances"; // Stated as 6 req/sec
String pendingOrdersPath = "/trade/orders-pending"; // Stated as 20 req/2 sec
String orderDetailsPath = "/trade/order";
String placeOrderPath = "/trade/order"; // Stated as 60 req/2 sec
String placeBatchOrderPath = "/trade/batch-orders"; // Stated as 300 req/2 sec
String cancelOrderPath = "/trade/cancel-order"; // Stated as 60 req/2 sec
String cancelBatchOrderPath = "/trade/cancel-batch-orders"; // Stated as 300 req/2 sec
String amendOrderPath = "/trade/amend-order"; // Stated as 60 req/2 sec
String amendBatchOrderPath = "trade/amend-batch-orders"; // Stated as 300 req/2 sec
String depositAddressPath = "/asset/deposit-address"; // Stated as 6 req/sec
String ordersHistoryPath = "/trade/orders-history"; // Stated as 40 req/2 sec
String subAccountList = "/users/subaccount/list"; // Stated as 2 req/2 sec
String subAccountBalance = "/account/subaccount/balances"; // Stated as 2 req/2 sec
String piggyBalance = "/asset/piggy-balance"; // Stated as 6 req/1 sec
// To avoid 429s, actual req/second may need to be lowered!
Map<String, List<Integer>> privatePathRateLimits =
new HashMap<String, List<Integer>>() {
{
put(balancePath, Arrays.asList(5, 1));
put(currenciesPath, Arrays.asList(6, 1));
put(assetBalancesPath, Arrays.asList(6, 1));
put(pendingOrdersPath, Arrays.asList(20, 2));
put(orderDetailsPath, Arrays.asList(60, 2));
put(placeOrderPath, Arrays.asList(60, 2));
put(placeBatchOrderPath, Arrays.asList(300, 2));
put(cancelOrderPath, Arrays.asList(60, 2));
put(cancelBatchOrderPath, Arrays.asList(300, 2));
put(amendOrderPath, Arrays.asList(60, 2));
put(amendBatchOrderPath, Arrays.asList(300, 2));
put(depositAddressPath, Arrays.asList(6, 1));
put(ordersHistoryPath, Arrays.asList(40, 2));
put(tradeFeePath, Arrays.asList(5, 2));
put(subAccountList, Arrays.asList(2, 2));
put(subAccountBalance, Arrays.asList(2, 2));
put(piggyBalance, Arrays.asList(6, 1));
}
};
@GET
@Path(tradeFeePath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexTradeFee>> getTradeFee(
@QueryParam("instType") String instrumentType,
@QueryParam("instId") String instrumentId,
@QueryParam("uly") String underlying,
@QueryParam("category") String category,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading);
@GET
@Path(ordersHistoryPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderDetails>> getOrderHistory(
@QueryParam("instType") String instType,
@QueryParam("instId") String instrumentId,
@QueryParam("ordType") String orderType,
@QueryParam("state") String state,
@QueryParam("after") String after,
@QueryParam("before") String before,
@QueryParam("limit") String limit,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading);
@GET
@Path(depositAddressPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexDepositAddress>> getDepositAddress(
@QueryParam("ccy") String currency,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading)
throws IOException, OkexException;
@GET
@Path(balancePath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexWalletBalance>> getWalletBalances(
@QueryParam("ccy") List<Currency> currencies,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading)
throws IOException, OkexException;
@GET
@Path(currenciesPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexCurrency>> getCurrencies(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(assetBalancesPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexAssetBalance>> getAssetBalances(
@QueryParam("ccy") List<Currency> currencies,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(pendingOrdersPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderDetails>> getPendingOrders(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
@QueryParam("instType") String instrumentType,
@QueryParam("uly") String underlying,
@QueryParam("instId") String instrumentId,
@QueryParam("ordType") String orderType,
@QueryParam("state") String state,
@QueryParam("after") String after,
@QueryParam("before") String before,
@QueryParam("limit") String limit)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(orderDetailsPath)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderDetails>> getOrderDetails(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
@QueryParam("instId") String instrumentId,
@QueryParam("ordId") String orderId,
@QueryParam("clOrdId") String clientOrderId)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(subAccountList)
OkexResponse<List<OkexSubAccountDetails>> getSubAccountList(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
@QueryParam("enable") String enable,
@QueryParam("subAcct") String subAcct)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(subAccountBalance)
OkexResponse<List<OkexWalletBalance>> getSubAccountBalance(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
@QueryParam("subAcct") String subAcct)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@GET
@Path(piggyBalance)
OkexResponse<List<PiggyBalance>> getPiggyBalance(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
@QueryParam("ccy") String ccy)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(placeOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> placeOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
OkexOrderRequest requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(placeBatchOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> placeBatchOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
List<OkexOrderRequest> requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(cancelOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> cancelOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
OkexCancelOrderRequest requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(cancelBatchOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> cancelBatchOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
List<OkexCancelOrderRequest> requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(amendOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> amendOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
OkexAmendOrderRequest requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
@POST
@Path(amendBatchOrderPath)
@Consumes(MediaType.APPLICATION_JSON)
OkexResponse<List<OkexOrderResponse>> amendBatchOrder(
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-KEY") String apiKey,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-SIGN") ParamsDigest signature,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-TIMESTAMP") String timestamp,
@HeaderParam("OK-ACCESS-PASSPHRASE") String passphrase,
@HeaderParam("X-SIMULATED-TRADING") String simulatedTrading,
List<OkexAmendOrderRequest> requestPayload)
throws OkexException, IOException;
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
package com.github.ppamorim.bound;
import android.content.Context;
import android.content.res.TypedArray;
import android.graphics.Canvas;
import android.graphics.Color;
import android.graphics.ColorFilter;
import android.graphics.Matrix;
import android.graphics.Paint;
import android.graphics.Path;
import android.graphics.Path.Direction;
import android.graphics.PixelFormat;
import android.graphics.PointF;
import android.graphics.RadialGradient;
import android.graphics.Rect;
import android.graphics.RectF;
import android.graphics.Shader;
import android.graphics.drawable.Animatable;
import android.graphics.drawable.Drawable;
import android.os.SystemClock;
import android.util.AttributeSet;
import android.util.TypedValue;
import android.view.MotionEvent;
import android.view.View;
import android.view.View.OnTouchListener;
import android.view.animation.AccelerateInterpolator;
import android.view.animation.AnimationUtils;
import android.view.animation.DecelerateInterpolator;
import android.view.animation.Interpolator;
import com.github.ppamorim.bound.utils.ColorUtil;
import com.github.ppamorim.bound.utils.ViewUtil;
public class RippleDrawable extends Drawable implements Animatable, OnTouchListener {
private boolean mRunning = false;
private Paint mShaderPaint;
private Paint mFillPaint;
private Mask mMask;
private RadialGradient mInShader;
private RadialGradient mOutShader;
private Matrix mMatrix;
private int mAlpha = 255;
private Drawable mBackgroundDrawable;
private RectF mBackgroundBounds;
private Path mBackground;
private int mBackgroundAnimDuration;
private int mBackgroundColor;
private float mBackgroundAlphaPercent;
private PointF mRipplePoint;
private float mRippleRadius;
private int mRippleType;
private int mMaxRippleRadius;
private int mRippleAnimDuration;
private int mRippleColor;
private float mRippleAlphaPercent;
private int mDelayClickType;
private Interpolator mInInterpolator;
private Interpolator mOutInterpolator;
private long mStartTime;
private int mState = STATE_OUT;
public static final int DELAY_CLICK_NONE = 0;
public static final int DELAY_CLICK_UNTIL_RELEASE = 1;
public static final int DELAY_CLICK_AFTER_RELEASE = 2;
private static final int STATE_OUT = 0;
private static final int STATE_PRESS = 1;
private static final int STATE_HOVER = 2;
private static final int STATE_RELEASE_ON_HOLD = 3;
private static final int STATE_RELEASE = 4;
private static final int TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW = -1;
private static final int TYPE_TOUCH = 0;
private static final int TYPE_WAVE = 1;
private static final float[] GRADIENT_STOPS = new float[]{0f, 0.99f, 1f};
private static final float GRADIENT_RADIUS = 16;
private RippleDrawable(Drawable backgroundDrawable, int backgroundAnimDuration, int backgroundColor, int rippleType, int delayClickType, int maxRippleRadius, int rippleAnimDuration, int rippleColor, Interpolator inInterpolator, Interpolator outInterpolator, int type, int topLeftCornerRadius, int topRightCornerRadius, int bottomRightCornerRadius, int bottomLeftCornerRadius, int left, int top, int right, int bottom){
setBackgroundDrawable(backgroundDrawable);
mBackgroundAnimDuration = backgroundAnimDuration;
mBackgroundColor = backgroundColor;
mRippleType = rippleType;
setDelayClickType(delayClickType);
mMaxRippleRadius = maxRippleRadius;
mRippleAnimDuration = rippleAnimDuration;
mRippleColor = rippleColor;
if(mRippleType == TYPE_TOUCH && mMaxRippleRadius <= 0)
mRippleType = TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW;
mInInterpolator = inInterpolator;
mOutInterpolator = outInterpolator;
setMask(type, topLeftCornerRadius, topRightCornerRadius, bottomRightCornerRadius, bottomLeftCornerRadius, left, top, right, bottom);
mFillPaint = new Paint(Paint.ANTI_ALIAS_FLAG);
mFillPaint.setStyle(Paint.Style.FILL);
mShaderPaint = new Paint(Paint.ANTI_ALIAS_FLAG);
mShaderPaint.setStyle(Paint.Style.FILL);
mBackground = new Path();
mBackgroundBounds = new RectF();
mRipplePoint = new PointF();
mMatrix = new Matrix();
mInShader = new RadialGradient(0, 0, GRADIENT_RADIUS, new int[]{
mRippleColor, mRippleColor, 0}, GRADIENT_STOPS, Shader.TileMode.CLAMP);
if(mRippleType == TYPE_WAVE)
mOutShader = new RadialGradient(0, 0, GRADIENT_RADIUS, new int[]{0, ColorUtil.getColor(
mRippleColor, 0f), mRippleColor}, GRADIENT_STOPS, Shader.TileMode.CLAMP);
}
public void setBackgroundDrawable(Drawable backgroundDrawable){
mBackgroundDrawable = backgroundDrawable;
if(mBackgroundDrawable != null)
mBackgroundDrawable.setBounds(getBounds());
}
public int getDelayClickType(){
return mDelayClickType;
}
public void setDelayClickType(int type){
mDelayClickType = type;
}
public void setMask(int type, int topLeftCornerRadius, int topRightCornerRadius, int bottomRightCornerRadius, int bottomLeftCornerRadius, int left, int top, int right, int bottom){
mMask = new Mask(type, topLeftCornerRadius, topRightCornerRadius, bottomRightCornerRadius, bottomLeftCornerRadius, left, top, right, bottom);
}
@Override
public void setAlpha(int alpha) {
mAlpha = alpha;
}
@Override
public void setColorFilter(ColorFilter filter) {
mFillPaint.setColorFilter(filter);
mShaderPaint.setColorFilter(filter);
}
@Override
public int getOpacity() {
return PixelFormat.TRANSLUCENT;
}
public long getClickDelayTime(){
switch (mDelayClickType){
case DELAY_CLICK_NONE:
return -1;
case DELAY_CLICK_UNTIL_RELEASE:
if(mState == STATE_RELEASE_ON_HOLD)
return Math.max(mBackgroundAnimDuration, mRippleAnimDuration) - (SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime);
break;
case DELAY_CLICK_AFTER_RELEASE:
if(mState == STATE_RELEASE_ON_HOLD)
return 2 * Math.max(mBackgroundAnimDuration, mRippleAnimDuration) - (SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime);
else if(mState == STATE_RELEASE)
return Math.max(mBackgroundAnimDuration, mRippleAnimDuration) - (SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime);
break;
}
return -1;
}
private void setRippleState(int state){
if(mState != state){
mState = state;
if(mState != STATE_OUT){
if(mState != STATE_HOVER)
start();
else
stop();
}
else
stop();
}
}
private boolean setRippleEffect(float x, float y, float radius){
if(mRipplePoint.x != x || mRipplePoint.y != y || mRippleRadius != radius){
mRipplePoint.set(x, y);
mRippleRadius = radius;
radius = mRippleRadius / GRADIENT_RADIUS;
mMatrix.reset();
mMatrix.postTranslate(x, y);
mMatrix.postScale(radius, radius, x, y);
mInShader.setLocalMatrix(mMatrix);
if(mOutShader != null)
mOutShader.setLocalMatrix(mMatrix);
return true;
}
return false;
}
@Override
protected void onBoundsChange(Rect bounds) {
if(mBackgroundDrawable != null)
mBackgroundDrawable.setBounds(bounds);
mBackgroundBounds.set(bounds.left + mMask.left, bounds.top + mMask.top, bounds.right - mMask.right, bounds.bottom - mMask.bottom);
mBackground.reset();
switch (mMask.type) {
case Mask.TYPE_OVAL:
mBackground.addOval(mBackgroundBounds, Direction.CW);
break;
case Mask.TYPE_RECTANGLE:
mBackground.addRoundRect(mBackgroundBounds, mMask.cornerRadius, Direction.CW);
break;
}
}
@Override
public boolean isStateful() {
return mBackgroundDrawable != null && mBackgroundDrawable.isStateful();
}
@Override
protected boolean onStateChange(int[] state) {
return mBackgroundDrawable != null && mBackgroundDrawable.setState(state);
}
@Override
public void draw(Canvas canvas) {
if(mBackgroundDrawable != null)
mBackgroundDrawable.draw(canvas);
switch (mRippleType) {
case TYPE_TOUCH:
case TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW:
drawTouch(canvas);
break;
case TYPE_WAVE:
drawWave(canvas);
break;
}
}
private void drawTouch(Canvas canvas){
if(mState != STATE_OUT){
if(mBackgroundAlphaPercent > 0){
mFillPaint.setColor(mBackgroundColor);
mFillPaint.setAlpha(Math.round(mAlpha * mBackgroundAlphaPercent));
canvas.drawPath(mBackground, mFillPaint);
}
if(mRippleRadius > 0 && mRippleAlphaPercent > 0){
mShaderPaint.setAlpha(Math.round(mAlpha * mRippleAlphaPercent));
mShaderPaint.setShader(mInShader);
canvas.drawPath(mBackground, mShaderPaint);
}
}
}
private void drawWave(Canvas canvas){
if(mState != STATE_OUT){
if(mState == STATE_RELEASE){
if(mRippleRadius == 0){
mFillPaint.setColor(mRippleColor);
canvas.drawPath(mBackground, mFillPaint);
}
else{
mShaderPaint.setShader(mOutShader);
canvas.drawPath(mBackground, mShaderPaint);
}
}
else if(mRippleRadius > 0){
mShaderPaint.setShader(mInShader);
canvas.drawPath(mBackground, mShaderPaint);
}
}
}
private int getMaxRippleRadius(float x, float y){
float x1 = x < mBackgroundBounds.centerX() ? mBackgroundBounds.right : mBackgroundBounds.left;
float y1 = y < mBackgroundBounds.centerY() ? mBackgroundBounds.bottom : mBackgroundBounds.top;
return (int)Math.round(Math.sqrt(Math.pow(x1 - x, 2) + Math.pow(y1 - y, 2)));
}
@Override
public boolean onTouch(View v, MotionEvent event) {
switch (event.getAction()) {
case MotionEvent.ACTION_DOWN:
case MotionEvent.ACTION_MOVE:
if(mState == STATE_OUT || mState == STATE_RELEASE){
if(mRippleType == TYPE_WAVE || mRippleType == TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW)
mMaxRippleRadius = getMaxRippleRadius(event.getX(), event.getY());
setRippleEffect(event.getX(), event.getY(), 0);
setRippleState(STATE_PRESS);
}
else if(mRippleType == TYPE_TOUCH){
if(setRippleEffect(event.getX(), event.getY(), mRippleRadius))
invalidateSelf();
}
break;
case MotionEvent.ACTION_UP:
case MotionEvent.ACTION_CANCEL:
if(mState != STATE_OUT){
if(mState == STATE_HOVER){
if(mRippleType == TYPE_WAVE || mRippleType == TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW)
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, 0);
setRippleState(STATE_RELEASE);
}
else
setRippleState(STATE_RELEASE_ON_HOLD);
}
break;
}
return true;
}
//Animation: based on http://cyrilmottier.com/2012/11/27/actionbar-on-the-move/
public void cancel(){
setRippleState(STATE_OUT);
}
private void resetAnimation(){
mStartTime = SystemClock.uptimeMillis();
}
@Override
public void start() {
if(isRunning())
return;
resetAnimation();
scheduleSelf(mUpdater, SystemClock.uptimeMillis() + ViewUtil.FRAME_DURATION);
invalidateSelf();
}
@Override
public void stop() {
if(!isRunning())
return;
mRunning = false;
unscheduleSelf(mUpdater);
invalidateSelf();
}
@Override
public boolean isRunning() {
return mRunning;
}
@Override
public void scheduleSelf(Runnable what, long when) {
mRunning = true;
super.scheduleSelf(what, when);
}
private final Runnable mUpdater = new Runnable() {
@Override
public void run() {
switch (mRippleType) {
case TYPE_TOUCH:
case TYPE_TOUCH_MATCH_VIEW:
updateTouch();
break;
case TYPE_WAVE:
updateWave();
break;
}
}
};
private void updateTouch(){
if(mState != STATE_RELEASE){
float backgroundProgress = Math.min(1f, (float)(SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime) / mBackgroundAnimDuration);
mBackgroundAlphaPercent = mInInterpolator.getInterpolation(backgroundProgress) * Color.alpha(mBackgroundColor) / 255f;
float touchProgress = Math.min(1f, (float)(SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime) / mRippleAnimDuration);
mRippleAlphaPercent = mInInterpolator.getInterpolation(touchProgress);
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, mMaxRippleRadius * mInInterpolator.getInterpolation(touchProgress));
if(backgroundProgress == 1f && touchProgress == 1f){
mStartTime = SystemClock.uptimeMillis();
setRippleState(mState == STATE_PRESS ? STATE_HOVER : STATE_RELEASE);
}
}
else{
float backgroundProgress = Math.min(1f, (float)(SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime) / mBackgroundAnimDuration);
mBackgroundAlphaPercent = (1f - mOutInterpolator.getInterpolation(backgroundProgress)) * Color.alpha(mBackgroundColor) / 255f;
float touchProgress = Math.min(1f, (float)(SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime) / mRippleAnimDuration);
mRippleAlphaPercent = 1f - mOutInterpolator.getInterpolation(touchProgress);
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, mMaxRippleRadius * (1f + 0.5f * mOutInterpolator.getInterpolation(touchProgress)));
if(backgroundProgress == 1f && touchProgress == 1f)
setRippleState(STATE_OUT);
}
if(isRunning())
scheduleSelf(mUpdater, SystemClock.uptimeMillis() + ViewUtil.FRAME_DURATION);
invalidateSelf();
}
private void updateWave(){
float progress = Math.min(1f, (float)(SystemClock.uptimeMillis() - mStartTime) / mRippleAnimDuration);
if(mState != STATE_RELEASE){
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, mMaxRippleRadius * mInInterpolator.getInterpolation(progress));
if(progress == 1f){
mStartTime = SystemClock.uptimeMillis();
if(mState == STATE_PRESS)
setRippleState(STATE_HOVER);
else{
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, 0);
setRippleState(STATE_RELEASE);
}
}
}
else{
setRippleEffect(mRipplePoint.x, mRipplePoint.y, mMaxRippleRadius * mOutInterpolator.getInterpolation(progress));
if(progress == 1f)
setRippleState(STATE_OUT);
}
if(isRunning())
scheduleSelf(mUpdater, SystemClock.uptimeMillis() + ViewUtil.FRAME_DURATION);
invalidateSelf();
}
public static class Mask{
public static final int TYPE_RECTANGLE = 0;
public static final int TYPE_OVAL = 1;
final int type;
final float[] cornerRadius = new float[8];
final int left;
final int top;
final int right;
final int bottom;
public Mask(int type, int topLeftCornerRadius, int topRightCornerRadius, int bottomRightCornerRadius, int bottomLeftCornerRadius, int left, int top, int right, int bottom){
this.type = type;
cornerRadius[0] = topLeftCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[1] = topLeftCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[2] = topRightCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[3] = topRightCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[4] = bottomRightCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[5] = bottomRightCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[6] = bottomLeftCornerRadius;
cornerRadius[7] = bottomLeftCornerRadius;
this.left = left;
this.top = top;
this.right = right;
this.bottom = bottom;
}
}
public static class Builder{
private Drawable mBackgroundDrawable;
private int mBackgroundAnimDuration = 200;
private int mBackgroundColor;
private int mRippleType;
private int mMaxRippleRadius;
private int mRippleAnimDuration = 400;
private int mRippleColor;
private int mDelayClickType;
private Interpolator mInInterpolator;
private Interpolator mOutInterpolator;
private int mMaskType;
private int mMaskTopLeftCornerRadius;
private int mMaskTopRightCornerRadius;
private int mMaskBottomLeftCornerRadius;
private int mMaskBottomRightCornerRadius;
private int mMaskLeft;
private int mMaskTop;
private int mMaskRight;
private int mMaskBottom;
public Builder(){}
public Builder(Context context, int defStyleRes){
this(context, null, 0, defStyleRes);
}
public Builder(Context context, AttributeSet attrs, int defStyleAttr, int defStyleRes){
TypedArray a = context.obtainStyledAttributes(attrs, R.styleable.RippleDrawable, defStyleAttr, defStyleRes);
int type, resId;
backgroundColor(a.getColor(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_backgroundColor, 0));
backgroundAnimDuration(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_backgroundAnimDuration, context.getResources().getInteger(android.R.integer.config_mediumAnimTime)));
rippleType(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_rippleType, RippleDrawable.TYPE_TOUCH));
delayClickType(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_delayClick, RippleDrawable.DELAY_CLICK_NONE));
type = ViewUtil.getType(a, R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_maxRippleRadius);
if(type >= TypedValue.TYPE_FIRST_INT && type <= TypedValue.TYPE_LAST_INT)
maxRippleRadius(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_maxRippleRadius, -1));
else
maxRippleRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_maxRippleRadius, ViewUtil.dpToPx(context, 48)));
rippleColor(a.getColor(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_rippleColor, ViewUtil.colorControlHighlight(context, 0)));
rippleAnimDuration(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_rippleAnimDuration, context.getResources().getInteger(android.R.integer.config_mediumAnimTime)));
if((resId = a.getResourceId(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_inInterpolator, 0)) != 0)
inInterpolator(AnimationUtils.loadInterpolator(context, resId));
if((resId = a.getResourceId(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_outInterpolator, 0)) != 0)
outInterpolator(AnimationUtils.loadInterpolator(context, resId));
maskType(a.getInteger(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_maskType, Mask.TYPE_RECTANGLE));
cornerRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_cornerRadius, 0));
topLeftCornerRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_topLeftCornerRadius, mMaskTopLeftCornerRadius));
topRightCornerRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_topRightCornerRadius, mMaskTopRightCornerRadius));
bottomRightCornerRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_bottomRightCornerRadius, mMaskBottomRightCornerRadius));
bottomLeftCornerRadius(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_bottomLeftCornerRadius, mMaskBottomLeftCornerRadius));
padding(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_padding, 0));
left(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_leftPadding, mMaskLeft));
right(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_rightPadding, mMaskRight));
top(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_topPadding, mMaskTop));
bottom(a.getDimensionPixelSize(R.styleable.RippleDrawable_rd_bottomPadding, mMaskBottom));
a.recycle();
}
public RippleDrawable build(){
if(mInInterpolator == null)
mInInterpolator = new AccelerateInterpolator();
if(mOutInterpolator == null)
mOutInterpolator = new DecelerateInterpolator();
return new RippleDrawable(mBackgroundDrawable, mBackgroundAnimDuration, mBackgroundColor, mRippleType, mDelayClickType, mMaxRippleRadius, mRippleAnimDuration, mRippleColor, mInInterpolator, mOutInterpolator, mMaskType, mMaskTopLeftCornerRadius, mMaskTopRightCornerRadius, mMaskBottomRightCornerRadius, mMaskBottomLeftCornerRadius, mMaskLeft, mMaskTop, mMaskRight, mMaskBottom);
}
public Builder backgroundDrawable(Drawable drawable){
mBackgroundDrawable = drawable;
return this;
}
public Builder backgroundAnimDuration(int duration){
mBackgroundAnimDuration = duration;
return this;
}
public Builder backgroundColor(int color){
mBackgroundColor = color;
return this;
}
public Builder rippleType(int type){
mRippleType = type;
return this;
}
public Builder delayClickType(int type){
mDelayClickType = type;
return this;
}
public Builder maxRippleRadius(int radius){
mMaxRippleRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder rippleAnimDuration(int duration){
mRippleAnimDuration = duration;
return this;
}
public Builder rippleColor(int color){
mRippleColor = color;
return this;
}
public Builder inInterpolator(Interpolator interpolator){
mInInterpolator = interpolator;
return this;
}
public Builder outInterpolator(Interpolator interpolator){
mOutInterpolator = interpolator;
return this;
}
public Builder maskType(int type){
mMaskType = type;
return this;
}
public Builder cornerRadius(int radius){
mMaskTopLeftCornerRadius = radius;
mMaskTopRightCornerRadius = radius;
mMaskBottomLeftCornerRadius = radius;
mMaskBottomRightCornerRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder topLeftCornerRadius(int radius){
mMaskTopLeftCornerRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder topRightCornerRadius(int radius){
mMaskTopRightCornerRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder bottomLeftCornerRadius(int radius){
mMaskBottomLeftCornerRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder bottomRightCornerRadius(int radius){
mMaskBottomRightCornerRadius = radius;
return this;
}
public Builder padding(int padding){
mMaskLeft = padding;
mMaskTop = padding;
mMaskRight = padding;
mMaskBottom = padding;
return this;
}
public Builder left(int padding){
mMaskLeft = padding;
return this;
}
public Builder top(int padding){
mMaskTop = padding;
return this;
}
public Builder right(int padding){
mMaskRight = padding;
return this;
}
public Builder bottom(int padding){
mMaskBottom = padding;
return this;
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: A passenger onboard the same Northwest Airlines flight that was attacked on Christmas Day was taken into custody in Detroit on Sunday after becoming verbally disruptive upon landing, officials said.
A law enforcement official said the man was Nigerian and had locked himself in the airliner's bathroom. The official spoke on condition of anonymity because the investigation was ongoing.
Delta Air Lines spokeswoman Susan Elliott said crew members requested that security remove the man from Flight 253 after he became disruptive. The remaining 255 passengers got off safely, she said.
Airport spokesman Scott Wintner said it was the same flight on which a man tried to set off an explosive on Christmas Day.
"The pilot requested emergency assistance upon arrival," he said.
Security and airline personnel are on edge since the attempted terror attack on Christmas Day, and the law enforcement official said that lesser incidents had been reported on other flights arriving in Detroit, but the incident with the Nigerian man had sparked the most concern.
____
Associated Press writers Devlin Barrett and Nyia Hawkins in Washington contributed to this report. ||||| (CNN) -- President Obama has ordered a review of security screening processes after Friday's botched terror attack on a U.S. airliner, White House press secretary Robert Gibbs said Sunday.
Appearing on the ABC program "This Week" and the NBC program "Meet the Press," Gibbs said Obama is receiving regular briefings by his national security staff on the incident in which a suspect allegedly tried to detonate an explosive device on a Northwest Airlines flight from Amsterdam, The Netherlands, making its final approach to Detroit, Michigan.
The suspect, 23-year-old Nigerian Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, was on a broad watch list of 550,000 names since last month, Gibbs said.
That list does not automatically bring tighter screening of individuals, Gibbs said, and Obama has ordered a review of the procedures for determining which people on the list undergo more stringent checking.
Obama also called for "a review to ... figure out why an individual with the chemical explosive he had on him could get on a plane in Amsterdam and fly into the United States," Gibbs said on NBC.
"The president is very confident that this government is taking the steps that are necessary to take our fight to those who seek to do us harm," Gibbs said on the ABC program.
Authorities on Sunday focused their investigation on how a lone traveler smuggled explosives aboard the Northwest Airlines flight and who might have helped him.
Abdulmutallab, who had a multiple entry visa to the United States, was charged Saturday in a federal criminal complaint.
Q&A: Why did security checks fail to spot explosives
People on the flight described a chaotic scene that began with a popping sound followed by flames erupting at Abdulmutallab's seat. Jasper Schuringa, a Dutch passenger on the flight from Amsterdam, leaped across the aisle to grab the suspect, who according to authorities suffered burns on his legs.
Schuringa told CNN he saw that Abdulmutallab was holding a burning object between his legs.
"I pulled the object from him and tried to extinguish the fire with my hands and threw it away," Schuringa said. He said he heard fire extinguishers as he pulled Abdulmutallab out of his seat and dragged him to the front of the plane.
In Nigeria, Abdulmutallab checked no baggage on his trip that originated in Lagos on a KLM flight to Amsterdam, where he changed planes to the Northwest flight, according to Harold Demuren, director-general of Nigeria's Civil Aviation Authority.
The suspect had a shoulder bag and went through the normal check-in process with his passport and U.S. visa scanned, Demuren said Sunday. The multiple-entry U.S. visa was issued in London, England, in June 2008 with an expiration date of June 2010, Demuren said.
Abdulmutallab then passed through a walk-through metal detector and put his shoulder bag through an X-ray screening machine, Demuren said. He also said the suspect underwent secondary screening at the boarding gate for the KLM flight, according to officials of the Dutch airline.
The father of the suspect recently contacted the U.S. Embassy in Nigeria with concerns his son was planning something, a senior U.S. administration official said Saturday.
The father -- identified by a family source as Umaru Abdulmutallab -- contacted the embassy "a few weeks ago" saying his son, Umar Farouk Abdulmutallab, had "become radicalized," the senior administration official, who is familiar with the case, told CNN.
A family source told CNN that the elder Abdulmutallab -- who recently retired as chairman of First Bank PLC, one of Nigeria's premier banks -- had contacted the embassy in Nigeria's capital, Abuja, and various other security agencies earlier than the timeline provided by the administration official. The family source said Abdulmutallab went to those agencies about three months ago after receiving a text message from his son.
The source, who lives at the family home in Kaduna in northern Nigeria, said the son informed his family in the text message that he was leaving school in Dubai to move to Yemen. He implied that he was leaving "for the course of Islam."
The family member said Abdulmutallab "had no family consent or support," adding he "absconded to Yemen."
Abdulmutallab's information about his son was forwarded to the National Counter-Terrorism Center, and Abdulmutallab was added to a general watch list, a senior administration official said. But the official said "the info on him was not deemed specific enough to pull his visa or put him on a no-fly list."
In addition, the official said there was "no derogatory information that would have prevented him from getting a visa" back in June 2008.
A law enforcement official familiar with the investigation into Abdulmutallab said investigators are still trying to trace his past travels.
"Investigators are looking into any al Qaeda connections and whether he had help and training from Yemen," the law enforcement official said.
A preliminary FBI analysis found that the device on the plane contained PETN, also known as Pentaerythritol Tetranitrate, a highly explosive chemical compound. In addition, FBI agents recovered what appear to be remnants of a syringe near Abdulmutallab's seat, believed to have been part of the device.
The family source said Abdulmutallab received a college degree at the University College London, where spokesman Dave Weston said a man named Umar Farouk Abdul Mutallab was enrolled in the mechanical engineering department between September 2005 and June 2008.
When Abdulmutallab returned to Nigeria from London, he told his family he wanted to get a second college degree in Cairo, Egypt, or Saudi Arabia, the family source said. The family refused because they were worried that he may have developed ties to some dubious people. He went to Dubai instead, the source said, where he sent a text message saying he had gone to Yemen to start a new life and that it would be difficult for anyone to reach him because he had thrown away his SIM card.
Abdulmutallab's father notified the U.S. Embassy with information on his son, saying the family feared he went to Yemen to participate in "some kind of jihad."
A federal security bulletin obtained by CNN said Abdulmutallab claimed the explosive device used Friday "was acquired in Yemen along with instructions as to when it should be used."
Yemeni authorities have yet to receive official information on the terror attempt, according to a Yemeni official who asked not to be named because he is not authorized to speak to the media. But, the source said the country's government will take immediate action once the attempted bombing suspect's alleged link to the country is officially identified.
Earlier Saturday, the Netherlands' national coordinator for counterterrorism told CNN that Abdulmutallab had gone through "normal security procedures" in Amsterdam before boarding the flight and those were "well-performed."
The initial impression is that the suspect was acting alone and did not have any formal connections to organized terrorist groups, a U.S. administration official said.
Rep. Bennie Thompson, D-Mississippi, who chairs the House Committee on Homeland Security, said the attempted act of terrorism would be the focus of an oversight hearing next month. Sen. Jay Rockefeller, D-West Virginia, also said his Senate Commerce Committee would hold a hearing on the incident.
In Nigeria, the government said Saturday that it "received with dismay the news of attempted terrorist attack on a U.S. airline" and has ordered its security agencies to investigate the incident.
Officials from the Nigerian Embassy in Washington have flown to Michigan "to gain Consular access" to Abdulmutallab, the embassy said in a statement Saturday. The embassy said it plans to cooperate with U.S. authorities.
An official with the Transportation Security Administration told CNN there will be increased security measures taken on international flights to the United States. The official advised travelers to allow for extra time before the flight. There will be no change in the number of carry-on bags allowed.
CNN's Elise Labott, Jeanne Meserve, Carol Cratty, Richard Quest and Nic Robertson contributed to this report.
Summary: – Police met a Northwest flight from Amsterdam to Detroit today after the crew reported a "verbally disruptive" passenger, CNN reports. The flight was on the same route that saw a Nigerian passenger set himself on fire in an attempted terrorist attack Friday. The unruly passenger on today's flight, who was arrested shortly after the plane landed, is also Nigerian, the AP reports. "The pilot requested emergency assistance upon arrival," said an airport spokesman. The other 255 passengers and the crew deplaned, according to a rep for Delta, Northwest's parent company. The aircraft is still on airport property but was moved far from the terminals, and it has been swarmed by security personnel, who are searching it for evidence.
|
{
"task_name": "multi_news"
}
|
Passage 1:
Dana Blankstein
Dana Blankstein- Cohen( born March 3, 1981) is the director of the Israeli Academy of Film and Television. She is a film director, and an Israeli culture entrepreneur.
Passage 2:
Saippuaprinssi
Saippuaprinssi ("Soap Prince") is a 2006 Finnish romantic comedy film directed by Janne Kuusi starring Mikko Leppilampi and Pamela Tola. Aleksi Bardy wrote the script.
Passage 3:
Brian Kennedy (gallery director)
Brian Patrick Kennedy( born 5 November 1961) is an Irish- born art museum director who has worked in Ireland and Australia, and now lives and works in the United States. He is currently the director of the Peabody Essex Museum. He was the director of the Toledo Museum of Art in Ohio from 2010 to 2019. He was the director of the Hood Museum of Art from 2005 to 2010, and the National Gallery of Australia( Canberra) from 1997- 2004.
Passage 4:
S. N. Mathur
S.N. Mathur was the Director of the Indian Intelligence Bureau between September 1975 and February 1980. He was also the Director General of Police in Punjab.
Passage 5:
Ian Barry (director)
Ian Barry is an Australian director of film and TV.
Passage 6:
Jason Moore (director)
Jason Moore( born October 22, 1970) is an American director of film, theatre and television.
Passage 7:
Olav Aaraas
Olav Aaraas( born 10 July 1950) is a Norwegian historian and museum director. He was born in Fredrikstad. From 1982 to 1993 he was the director of Sogn Folk Museum, from 1993 to 2010 he was the director of Maihaugen and from 2001 he has been the director of the Norwegian Museum of Cultural History. In 2010 he was decorated with the Royal Norwegian Order of St. Olav.
Passage 8:
Janne Kuusi
Janne Tapio Kuusi (born 29 April 1954 in Helsinki, Finland) is a Finnish television and film director, screenwriter, producer and occasional actor.
Passage 9:
Jesse E. Hobson
Jesse Edward Hobson( May 2, 1911 – November 5, 1970) was the director of SRI International from 1947 to 1955. Prior to SRI, he was the director of the Armour Research Foundation.
Passage 10:
Peter Levin
Peter Levin is an American director of film, television and theatre.
Question: What is the place of birth of the director of film Saippuaprinssi?
Answer: Helsinki
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Passage 1:
Reclaiming History
Reclaiming History: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy is a book by attorney Vincent Bugliosi (Norton, 2007; 1,632 pages; ISBN ) that analyzes the events surrounding the assassination of John F. Kennedy, focusing on the lives of Lee Harvey Oswald and Jack Ruby. The book is drawn from many sources, including the Warren Report. Bugliosi's 1,632-page, 1,535,791-word book (with a CD-ROM containing an additional 1,000+ pages of footnotes) analyzes all aspects of the assassination and the rise of the conspiracy theories about Kennedy's assassination in the years subsequent to the event. Bugliosi argues that the Warren Commission's conclusion that Lee Oswald acted alone in shooting Kennedy is correct. The book won the 2008 Edgar Award for the Best Fact Crime category.
Passage 2:
Parkland (film)
Parkland is a 2013 American historical drama film that recounts the chaotic events that occurred following John F. Kennedy's assassination. The film is written and directed by Peter Landesman, produced by Playtone's Tom Hanks and Gary Goetzman, and Bill Paxton with Exclusive Media's Nigel and Matt Sinclair. The film is based on Vincent Bugliosi's 2008 book "Four Days in November: The Assassination of President John F. Kennedy".
Passage 3:
Warren Commission
The President's Commission on the Assassination of President Kennedy, known unofficially as the Warren Commission, was established by President Lyndon B. Johnson through Executive Order on November 29, 1963 to investigate the assassination of United States President John F. Kennedy that had taken place on November 22, 1963. The U.S. Congress passed Senate Joint Resolution 137 authorizing the Presidential appointed Commission to report on the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, mandating the attendance and testimony of witnesses and the production of evidence. Its 888-page final report was presented to President Johnson on September 24, 1964 and made public three days later. It concluded that President Kennedy was assassinated by Lee Harvey Oswald and that Oswald acted entirely alone. It also concluded that Jack Ruby also acted alone when he killed Oswald two days later. The Commission's findings have proven controversial and have been both challenged and supported by later studies.
Passage 4:
Derry (Stephen King)
Derry is a fictional town and a part of Stephen King's fictional Maine topography. Derry has served as the setting for a number of his novels, novellas, and short stories. Derry first appeared in King's 1981 short story "The Bird and the Album" and has reappeared as late as his 2011 novel "11/22/63" (see list below). Derry is said to be near Bangor, but King has acknowledged that Derry is actually his portrayal of Bangor. A map on King's official website, though, places Derry in the vicinity of the town of Etna.
Passage 5:
King Kennedy
King Kennedy is an upcoming drama thriller film set in the 1960s made entirely from archive material. The film stars some of the most prominent characters from 1960s America, including US President John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy, the civil rights movement leader Martin Luther King, convicted assassins Lee Harvey Oswald and Sirhan Sirhan and the film world's brightest icons of that time Marilyn Monroe and Frank Sinatra. The plot line revolves around the concepts of truth and freedom, but pursues further towards deception, intrigue, conspiracy and murder, and features some of the most memorable moments in 1960s America, including Marilyn Monroe's world-famous "Happy Birthday, Mr. President" at Madison Square Garden and Martin Luther King's "I Have A Dream" speech on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in which he called for racial equality and an end to discrimination. The film is designed primarily to remind, focusing on the characters and events that build up to the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert F. Kennedy and Martin Luther King as their apparent determination to shy away from war, discrimination and hatred became ever more publicized.
Passage 6:
11/22/63
11/22/63 is a novel by Stephen King about a time traveler who attempts to prevent the assassination of President John F. Kennedy, which occurred on November 22, 1963 (the novel's titular date). It's the 60th book published by Stephen King, it is his 49th novel and the 42nd under his own name. The novel was announced on King's official site on March 2, 2011. A short excerpt was released online on June 1, 2011, and another excerpt was published in the October 28, 2011, issue of "Entertainment Weekly". The novel was published on November 8, 2011 and quickly became a number-one bestseller. It stayed on The New York Times Best Seller list for 16 weeks. "11/22/63" won the 2011 Los Angeles Times Book Prize for Best Mystery/Thriller and the 2012 International Thriller Writers Award for Best Novel, and was nominated for the 2012 British Fantasy Award for Best Novel and the 2012 Locus Award for Best Science Fiction Novel.
Passage 7:
John F. Kennedy Eternal Flame
The John F. Kennedy Eternal Flame is a presidential memorial at the gravesite of U.S. President John F. Kennedy, in Arlington National Cemetery. The permanent site replaced a temporary grave and eternal flame used during President Kennedy's funeral on November 25, 1963. The site was designed by architect John Carl Warnecke, a long-time friend of the President. The permanent John F. Kennedy Eternal Flame grave site was consecrated and opened to the public on March 15, 1967.
Passage 8:
Babushka Lady
The Babushka Lady is an unknown woman present during the 1963 assassination of President John F. Kennedy who might have photographed the events that occurred in Dallas' Dealey Plaza at the time President John F. Kennedy was shot. Her nickname arose from the headscarf she wore, which was similar to scarves worn by elderly Russian women (бабушка – "babushka" – literally means "grandmother" or "old woman" in Russian).
Passage 9:
John-F.-Kennedy-Platz
John-F.-Kennedy-Platz (John F. Kennedy Square), formerly Rudolph-Wilde-Platz, in Berlin-Schöneberg is the square in front of the former city hall of West Berlin (Rathaus Schöneberg). It was here that US President John F. Kennedy gave his famous speech to the Berliners, in which he stated: ""Ich bin ein Berliner"". The square was renamed John-F.-Kennedy-Platz on 25 November 1963, three days after Kennedy's assassination, and a large plaque dedicated to Kennedy was mounted on a column at the entrance to the city hall.
Passage 10:
Rush to Judgment
Rush to Judgment: A Critique of the Warren Commission's Inquiry into the Murders of President John F. Kennedy, Officer J.D. Tippit and Lee Harvey Oswald is a 1966 book by American lawyer Mark Lane. It is about the assassination of U.S. President John F. Kennedy and takes issue with the investigatory methods and conclusions of the Warren Commission. The book's introduction is by Hugh Trevor-Roper, Regius Professor of History at the University of Oxford. Although it was preceded by a few self-published or small press books, "Rush to Judgment" was the first mass-marketed hardcover book to confront the findings of the Warren Commission.
Question: A novel by who is about a time traveler who attempts to prevent the assassination of President John F. Kennedy that has a a fictional town reappeared as late as his novel?
Answer: Stephen King
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
// CodeContracts
//
// Copyright (c) Microsoft Corporation
//
// All rights reserved.
//
// MIT License
//
// Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
//
// The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all copies or substantial portions of the Software.
//
// THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED *AS IS*, WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY, FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM, OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE SOFTWARE.
using System;
using System.Diagnostics.Contracts;
using Microsoft.Research.ClousotRegression;
[assembly: RegressionOutcome("Detected call to method 'System.Object.Equals(System.Object)' without [Pure] in contracts of method 'OldTests.GenericWithOld`1.Set(type parameter.T)'.")]
namespace OldTests
{
class FibonacciHeapCell
{
FibonacciHeapCell mParent;
internal FibonacciHeapLinkedList Children { get; set; }
internal FibonacciHeapCell Parent
{
get
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<FibonacciHeapCell>() == null || Contract.Result<FibonacciHeapCell>().Children != null); //Commented out because nowhere picks up this contract
return mParent;
}
set
{
mParent = value;
}
}
internal FibonacciHeapCell Next { get; set; }
internal FibonacciHeapCell Previous { get; set; }
internal int Count { get; set; }
}
class FibonacciHeapLinkedList
{
internal void AddLast(FibonacciHeapCell Node)
{
Contract.Requires(Node.Previous == null);
Contract.Requires(Node.Count <= 0); // Add this to test old in numerical domains
}
internal void Remove(FibonacciHeapCell Node)
{
Contract.Requires<ArgumentNullException>(Node != null);
Contract.Ensures(Node.Next == null);
Contract.Ensures(Node.Previous == null);
Contract.Ensures(Node.Count <= 0);
Node.Next = null;
Node.Previous = null;
}
}
class Roy
{
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 41, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 52, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 59, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 82, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 89, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "requires is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 8, MethodILOffset = 52)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "assert is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 67, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "requires is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 10, MethodILOffset = 82)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "requires is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 28, MethodILOffset = 82)]
private static void BadTest(FibonacciHeapCell Node, FibonacciHeapLinkedList children, FibonacciHeapLinkedList others)
{
Contract.Requires<ArgumentNullException>(Node != null);
Contract.Requires<ArgumentNullException>(children != null);
Contract.Requires<ArgumentNullException>(others != null);
var parentNode = Node.Parent;
while (parentNode != null)
{
children.Remove(parentNode);
Contract.Assert(parentNode.Previous == null);
UpdateNodesDegree(parentNode);
others.AddLast(parentNode);
parentNode = parentNode.Parent;
}
}
private static void UpdateNodesDegree(FibonacciHeapCell parentNode)
{
Contract.Ensures(parentNode.Previous == Contract.OldValue(parentNode.Previous));
Contract.Ensures(parentNode.Next == Contract.OldValue(parentNode.Next));
Contract.Ensures(parentNode.Count == Contract.OldValue(parentNode.Count));
}
}
public class NestedOldTest
{
public struct A
{
public B b;
}
public struct B
{
public C c;
}
public struct C
{
public int x;
}
[Pure]
static int GetX(A a)
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<int>() == Contract.OldValue(a.b.c.x));
int x = a.b.c.x;
return x;
}
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 24, MethodILOffset = 45)]
static int Test(ref A a)
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<int>() == Contract.OldValue(GetX(a)));
return GetX(a);
}
}
public class CallOnStructWithinOldTest {
public struct T
{
public int Y { get; set; }
}
public struct S
{
public int X { get; set; }
private T t;
public T T
{
get { return this.t; }
set { this.t = value; }
}
}
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 48, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 56, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 64, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 27, MethodILOffset = 73)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.Top, Message = @"ensures unproven: s.X > 0", PrimaryILOffset = 11, MethodILOffset = 73)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 39, MethodILOffset = 73)]
static int Test(S s)
{
Contract.Ensures(s.X > 0); // wrong and useless, but should work and not crash
Contract.Ensures(s.T.Y == Contract.Result<int>());
s.X = 5;
return s.T.Y;
}
}
class AccountExample
{
public int Balance { get; private set; }
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 40, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 47, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"valid non-null reference (as receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 12, MethodILOffset = 53)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = @"ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 32, MethodILOffset = 53)]
public void Deposit(int amount)
{
Contract.Requires(amount > 0);
Contract.Ensures(Balance == Contract.OldValue(Balance) + amount);
Balance = Balance + amount;
}
}
class GenericWithOld<T>
{
public T Field;
// TODO: support Equals in contracts
public void Set(T value)
{
Contract.Ensures(this.Field.Equals(value));
Field = value;
}
}
class TestGenericInstanceWithOld
{
// TODO, once we support equals, this should work
public static void Test1()
{
var v = new GenericWithOld<string>();
var x = "foo";
v.Set(x);
Contract.Assert(v.Field == x);
}
struct S
{
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as field receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 43, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as field receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 50, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 15, MethodILOffset = 55)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 35, MethodILOffset = 55)]
public S(int a, int b)
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.ValueAtReturn(out this.x) == a);
Contract.Ensures(Contract.ValueAtReturn(out this.y) == b);
this.x = a;
this.y = b;
}
public int x;
public int y;
}
// TODO, once we support Equals, this should pass
public static void Test2()
{
var v = new GenericWithOld<S>();
var s = new S(5,6);
Contract.Assert(s.x == 5);
v.Set(s);
Contract.Assert(v.Field.y == 6);
}
}
}
namespace OldScopeInference
{
struct S
{
public int X;
}
class OldWithoutEnd
{
/// <summary>
/// Tests an issue with oldscope inference in ensures with ldarga. In this example, there is no actual memory
/// access happening in the old state. Still, we need to end the old scope. We now do so at any instructions
/// other than nop and ldflda.
/// </summary>
/// <param name="s"></param>
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 16, MethodILOffset = 22)]
unsafe public static void Test(S s)
{
Contract.Ensures(&s.X != null);
}
[Pure]
[ClousotRegressionTest]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 23, MethodILOffset = 42)]
public static bool Predicate1(int data, ref S s)
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<bool>() || data != s.X);
return data == s.X;
}
[Pure]
[ClousotRegressionTest]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 42, MethodILOffset = 61)]
public static bool Predicate2(ref S s, int data)
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<bool>() && data == s.X || !Contract.Result<bool>() && data != s.X);
return data == s.X;
}
/// <summary>
/// This is a weird case, where we want to refer to the pre state of s, in the post condition.
/// However, s is only dereferenced in WeirdMethod, and we cannot wrap old around that.
/// What happens is that WeirdMethod gets evaluated in the new state because, and thus we effectively
/// read the post state of s. Thus the ensures fails, even though it should succeed.
/// </summary>
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as field receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 38, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "ensures is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 29, MethodILOffset = 48)]
unsafe public static int WeirdPost1(S s)
{
Contract.Requires(s.X == 0);
Contract.Ensures(Predicate1(Contract.Result<int>(), ref s)); // should be valid
s.X = 5;
return 0;
}
/// <summary>
/// Like WeirdPost1, showing that indeed we evaluate s.X in the post state.
/// The parameter order of Predicate2 should not matter
/// </summary>
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "valid non-null reference (as field receiver)", PrimaryILOffset = 22, MethodILOffset = 0)]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.Top, Message = @"ensures unproven: Predicate2(ref s, Contract.Result<int>())", PrimaryILOffset = 13, MethodILOffset = 32)]
unsafe public static int WeirdPost2(S s)
{
Contract.Ensures(Predicate2(ref s, Contract.Result<int>())); // should not be valid!
s.X = 0;
return 0;
}
[ClousotRegressionTest("regular")]
[RegressionOutcome(Outcome = ProofOutcome.True, Message = "assert is valid", PrimaryILOffset = 18, MethodILOffset = 0)]
public static void Caller1(S s)
{
int result = WeirdPost2(s);
Contract.Assert(result == s.X); // can't prove it due to our handling of struct copies and the weird by-ref predicate
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
David Louis Band
David Louis Band or David L. Band (9 January 1957 – 16 March 2009) was an astronomer who studied the theory of gamma-ray bursts.
Passage 2:
Roman Smishko
Roman Smishko is a retired Ukrainian professional footballer who played as a goalkeeper. He is a younger brother of Ukrainian defender Bohdan Smishko.
Passage 3:
Miloš Zličić
Miloš Zličić( born 29 December 1999) is a Serbian football forward. He is a younger brother of Lazar Zličić.
Passage 4:
David ben Naphtali Fränkel
David ben Naphtali Fränkel or David Hirschel Fränkel( 1704 – 4 April 1762), was a German rabbi.
Passage 5:
Dave Bonawits
Dave Bonawits( or David Bonawits) is an American actor, cinematographer, editor, and television host of" FishCenter Live".
Passage 6:
Alexander Savinov
Alexander Ivanovich Savinov( July 17, 1881 – February 25, 1942) was a Russian and Soviet painter and art educator who lived and worked in Saint Petersburg( Leningrad). He was a member of the Leningrad Union of Artists, regarded as one of the founders of the Leningrad School of painting.
Passage 7:
David Beecroft
David Beecroft (born April 26, 1955 in Warwick, Rhode Island) is an American actor noted for his television appearances, having played both regular and recurring roles in series such as "Falcon Crest" (as Nick Agretti), "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" and "Melrose Place". In 1992, he starred on the short-lived series "Hearts are Wild". He has also been a regular on the daytime soap operas "One Life to Live" as Trent Chapin (1985–1986) and "All My Children" in 1999-2001. He played the serial killer in 1990's "The Rain Killer", and a gigolo in 1987's "Creepshow 2". He is a 1974 graduate of W. T. White High School in Dallas, Texas. He graduated from Trinity University in San Antonio, Texas before heading to Hollywood in 1979. David has a wife, Greer, and a son. His older brother is former actor Gregory Beecroft, famous for three popular soap opera roles: Tony Reardon on "Guiding Light" (1981-1985); Brock Lombard on "As the World Turns" (1988-1989); and the short-lived recast of Duke Lavery on "General Hospital" (1989–1990). He also played small role of Mickey D in episode "The Royale".
Passage 8:
Dafydd Nicolas
Dafydd Nicolas, or David Nicholas( c.1705 – 8 February 1774) was a Welsh poet.
Passage 9:
Dmitri Varfolomeyev (footballer, born 1978)
Dmitri Nikolayevich Varfolomeyev( born 15 March 1978 in Leningrad) is a former Russian football player. He is a younger brother of Sergei Varfolomeyev.
Passage 10:
Vadim Vlasov
Vadim Nikolayevich Vlasov( born 19 December 1980) is a former Russian football player. He is a younger brother of Dmitri Vlasov.
Question: Who is younger, Alexander Savinov or David Beecroft?
Answer: David Beecroft
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
Others argue that reason was generally held in high regard during the Middle Ages. Science historian Edward Grant writes, "If revolutionary rational thoughts were expressed [in the 18th century], they were only made possible because of the long medieval tradition that established the use of reason as one of the most important of human activities". Also, contrary to common belief, David Lindberg writes, "the late medieval scholar rarely experienced the coercive power of the church and would have regarded himself as free (particularly in the natural sciences) to follow reason and observation wherever they led".
Question: What is Edward Grant a historian of?
Answer: Science
Question: Who argued that scholars in the Middle Ages were rarely coerced by the Church?
Answer: David Lindberg
Question: According to Grant, the medieval use of reason was the forerunner the revolutionary rationalism of what century?
Answer: 18th
|
{
"task_name": "squadv2"
}
|
package com.crm.kernel.io;
import java.io.*;
import com.crm.util.StringUtil;
/**
* <p>
* Title: FileUtil
* </p>
* <p>
* Description: Utility for file processing
* </p>
* <p>
* Copyright: Copyright (c) 2002
* </p>
* <p>
* Company:
* </p>
*
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
* @version 1.0
*/
public class FileUtil
{
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
// Constant
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static final int BUFFER_SIZE = 65536; // 64K
public static final int MAX_SMALL_FILE_SIZE = 16777216; // 16M
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
*
* @param strCurrenDir
* String
* @param strFileName
* String
* @return String
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static String getAbsolutePath(String strCurrenDir, String strFileName)
{
if (!strFileName.startsWith("/") && !strFileName.startsWith("\\"))
{
if (!strCurrenDir.endsWith("/") && !strCurrenDir.endsWith("\\"))
{
return strCurrenDir + "/" + strFileName;
}
return strCurrenDir + strFileName;
}
return strFileName;
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Create folder if it's not exist
*
* @param folder
* folder to create if it does not exist
* @throws IOException
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static void forceFolderExist(String folder) throws IOException
{
File flTemp = new File(folder);
if (!flTemp.exists())
{
if (!flTemp.mkdirs())
{
throw new IOException("Could not create folder " + folder);
}
}
else if (!flTemp.isDirectory())
{
throw new IOException("A file with name" + folder + " already exist");
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Rename file from source to destination
*
* @param strSrc
* String
* @param strDest
* String
* @param deleteIfExist
* boolean
* @return boolean
* @throws IOException
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static boolean renameFile(String strSrc, String strDest, boolean deleteIfExist) throws IOException
{
File flSrc = new File(strSrc);
File flDest = new File(strDest);
if (flSrc.getAbsolutePath().equals(flDest.getAbsolutePath()))
{
return false;
}
if (flDest.exists())
{
if (deleteIfExist)
{
flDest.delete();
}
else
{
throw new IOException("File '" + strDest + "' already exist");
}
}
return flSrc.renameTo(flDest);
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Rename file from src to des, override if des exist
*
* @param strSrc
* source file
* @param strDest
* destination file
* @return true if succees, otherswise false
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static boolean renameFile(String strSrc, String strDest)
{
File flSrc = new File(strSrc);
File flDest = new File(strDest);
if (flSrc.getAbsolutePath().equals(flDest.getAbsolutePath()))
{
return true;
}
if (flDest.exists())
{
flDest.delete();
}
return flSrc.renameTo(flDest);
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Copy file from src to des, override if des exist
*
* @param strSrc
* source file
* @param strDest
* destination file
* @return true if succees, otherswise false
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static boolean copyFile(String strSrc, String strDest)
{
FileInputStream isSrc = null;
FileOutputStream osDest = null;
try
{
File flDest = new File(strDest);
if (flDest.exists())
{
flDest.delete();
}
File flSrc = new File(strSrc);
if (!flSrc.exists())
{
return false;
}
isSrc = new FileInputStream(flSrc);
osDest = new FileOutputStream(flDest);
byte btData[] = new byte[BUFFER_SIZE];
int iLength;
while ((iLength = isSrc.read(btData)) != -1)
{
osDest.write(btData, 0, iLength);
}
return true;
}
catch (Exception e)
{
e.printStackTrace();
return false;
}
finally
{
safeClose(isSrc);
safeClose(osDest);
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Delete file
*
* @param strSrc
* file to delete
* @return true if succees, otherswise false
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static boolean deleteFile(String strSrc)
{
File flSrc = new File(strSrc);
return flSrc.delete();
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Copy resource to file
*
* @param cls
* Class with valid priviledge
* @param strResSource
* resource path
* @param strFile
* file to copy to
* @return true if succees, otherswise false
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static boolean copyResource(Class<?> cls, String strResSource, String strFile)
{
InputStream isSrc = null;
FileOutputStream osDest = null;
try
{
isSrc = cls.getResourceAsStream(strResSource);
if (isSrc == null)
{
throw new IOException("Resource " + strResSource + " not found");
}
osDest = new FileOutputStream(strFile);
byte btData[] = new byte[BUFFER_SIZE];
int iLength;
while ((iLength = isSrc.read(btData)) != -1)
{
osDest.write(btData, 0, iLength);
}
}
catch (IOException e)
{
e.printStackTrace();
return false;
}
finally
{
safeClose(isSrc);
safeClose(osDest);
}
return true;
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Delete unused file
*
* @param strPath
* Path to scan
* @param strWildcard
* scan wildcard
* @param iOffset
* miliseconds to determinate old file
* @author Thai Hoang Hiep
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static void deleteOldFile(String strPath, String strWildcard, int iOffset)
{
if (!strPath.endsWith("/"))
{
strPath += "/";
}
File flFolder = new File(strPath);
if (!flFolder.exists())
{
return;
}
String strFileList[] = flFolder.list(new WildcardFilter(strWildcard));
if (strFileList != null && strFileList.length > 0)
{
long lCurrentTime = (new java.util.Date()).getTime();
for (int iFileIndex = 0; iFileIndex < strFileList.length; iFileIndex++)
{
File fl = new File(strPath + strFileList[iFileIndex]);
if (lCurrentTime - fl.lastModified() >= iOffset)
{
fl.delete();
}
}
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* @param strFileName
* String File to check
* @param iMaxSize
* max size
* @param iRemainSize
* remain size
* @throws Exception
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static void backup(String strFileName, int iMaxSize, int iRemainSize) throws Exception
{
final java.text.SimpleDateFormat fmt = new java.text.SimpleDateFormat("yyyyMMddHHmmss");
if (iMaxSize <= iRemainSize)
{
throw new IllegalArgumentException();
}
File flSource = new File(strFileName);
if (flSource.length() > iMaxSize)
{
String strNewName = strFileName + "." + fmt.format(new java.util.Date());
renameFile(strFileName, strNewName);
RandomAccessFile fl = null;
FileOutputStream os = null;
try
{
os = new FileOutputStream(strFileName);
fl = new RandomAccessFile(strNewName, "rw");
fl.seek(fl.length() - iRemainSize);
byte bt[] = new byte[iRemainSize];
int iByteRead = fl.read(bt);
if (iByteRead != iRemainSize)
throw new IOException();
os.write(bt, 0, iByteRead);
fl.setLength(fl.length() - iRemainSize);
}
finally
{
FileUtil.safeClose(fl);
FileUtil.safeClose(os);
}
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static void backup(String strFileName, int iMaxSize)
{
final java.text.SimpleDateFormat fmt = new java.text.SimpleDateFormat("yyyyMMddHHmmss");
File flSource = new File(strFileName);
if (flSource.length() > iMaxSize)
{
String strNewName = "";
if (strFileName.indexOf(".") >= 0)
{
strNewName = strFileName.substring(0, strFileName.lastIndexOf(".")) +
fmt.format(new java.util.Date()) +
strFileName.substring(strFileName.lastIndexOf("."));
}
else
{
strNewName = strFileName + fmt.format(new java.util.Date());
}
renameFile(strFileName, strNewName);
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Backup used for file relation thread
*
* @param strSourcePath
* String (Must have '/' at last string)
* @param strBackupPath
* String (Must have '/' at last string)
* @param strSourceFile
* String
* @param strBackupFile
* String
* @param strBackupStyle
* String
* @throws Exception
* @return String
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static String backup(
String strSourcePath, String strBackupPath, String strSourceFile, String strBackupFile, String strBackupStyle)
throws Exception
{
return backup(strSourcePath, strBackupPath, strSourceFile, strBackupFile, strBackupStyle, true);
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static String backup(
String strSourcePath, String strBackupPath, String strSourceFile, String strBackupFile, String strBackupStyle, boolean bReplace)
throws Exception
{
return backup(strSourcePath, strBackupPath, strSourceFile, strBackupFile, strBackupStyle, "", bReplace);
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static String backup(
String strSourcePath, String strBackupPath, String strSourceFile
, String strBackupFile, String strBackupStyle, String strAdditionPath) throws Exception
{
return backup(strSourcePath, strBackupPath, strSourceFile, strBackupFile, strBackupStyle, strAdditionPath, true);
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static String backup(
String strSourcePath, String strBackupPath, String strSourceFile
, String strBackupFile, String strBackupStyle, String strAdditionPath, boolean bReplace) throws Exception
{
// Backup file
if (strBackupStyle.equals("Delete file"))
{
if (!FileUtil.deleteFile(strSourcePath + strSourceFile))
throw new Exception("Cannot delete file " + strSourcePath + strSourceFile);
}
else if (strBackupPath.length() > 0)
{
// Backup source file
String strCurrentDate = "";
if (strBackupStyle.equals("Daily"))
strCurrentDate = StringUtil.format(new java.util.Date(), "yyyyMMdd") + "/";
else if (strBackupStyle.equals("Monthly"))
strCurrentDate = StringUtil.format(new java.util.Date(), "yyyyMM") + "/";
else if (strBackupStyle.equals("Yearly"))
strCurrentDate = StringUtil.format(new java.util.Date(), "yyyy") + "/";
FileUtil.forceFolderExist(strBackupPath + strCurrentDate + strAdditionPath);
if (!FileUtil.renameFile(strSourcePath + strSourceFile, strBackupPath + strCurrentDate + strAdditionPath
+ strBackupFile, bReplace))
throw new Exception("Cannot rename file " + strSourcePath + strSourceFile + " to " + strBackupPath
+ strCurrentDate + strBackupFile);
return strBackupPath + strCurrentDate + strBackupFile;
}
return "";
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Close object safely
*
* @param is
* InputStream
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static void safeClose(Object object)
{
if (object == null)
{
return;
}
try
{
if (object instanceof InputStream)
{
((InputStream)object).close();
}
else if (object instanceof OutputStream)
{
((OutputStream)object).close();
}
else if (object instanceof BufferedReader)
{
((BufferedReader)object).close();
}
else if (object instanceof BufferedWriter)
{
((BufferedWriter)object).close();
}
else if (object instanceof RandomAccessFile)
{
((RandomAccessFile)object).close();
}
else if (object instanceof FileReader)
{
((FileReader)object).close();
}
}
catch (Exception e)
{
e.printStackTrace();
}
}
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
/**
* Return resource from local file, if false then search from classpath
*
* @param strName
* String
* @return InputStream
* @throws Exception
*/
// //////////////////////////////////////////////////////
public static java.net.URL getResource(String strName)
{
try
{
File fl = new File(strName);
if (fl.exists() && fl.isFile())
return fl.toURI().toURL();
}
catch (Exception e)
{
}
if (!strName.startsWith("/"))
return FileUtil.class.getResource("/" + strName);
else
return FileUtil.class.getResource(strName);
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Passage 1:
Radisson Blu Al Mahary Hotel Tripoli
The Radisson Blu Al Mahary Hotel Tripoli is a modern tourist hotel in Tripoli, Libya, near Grand Hotel Tripoli. It was built in 1989 and completely remodeled in 2009 to international standards as part of Radisson Hotels. It is located on the site of the earlier Hotel del Mehari , built in 1935, at the same time as the nearby Hotel Casinò Uaddan.Like the Uaddan, it was designed by Italian architect Florestano Di Fausto, with the collaboration of Stefano Gatti-Casazza.According to Brian McLaren in his book "Architecture and tourism in Italian colonial Libya", the destroyed Mehari hotel "provided a fusion of the indigenous architecture of Tripoli with a modern aesthetic that responded to the demand for a metropolitan standard of comfort, typical to colonial tourism.
Passage 2:
Radisson Blu Hotel, Yerevan
Radisson Blu Hotel (Armenian: Ռեդիսոն Բլու Հոթել Երևան ), is a 5-star superior luxury hotel in Yerevan, Armenia. It is operated by Radisson Hotels under the Radisson Blu brand. The hotel was originally opened in 2005 as the Golden Palace Yerevan. However, the hotel had been entirely renovated and expanded between 2014 and 2016. It was eventually reopened in July 2016 as the Radisson Blu Hotel, Yerevan.
Passage 3:
Radisson Blu
Radisson Blu (formerly Radisson SAS) is an upscale international chain of full service hotels and resorts brand for Radisson Hotels mostly outside the United States, including those in Europe, Africa, and Asia. These are operated by Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group. As of December 2014, Radisson Blu has 287 hotels operating throughout the world with 68,270 rooms, and 102 hotels under development with an additional 23,489 rooms.
Passage 4:
Radisson Red
Radisson Red (stylized as Radisson RED) is an international chain of full service hotels for Radisson Hotels marketed at millennials. These are operated by Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group. As of December 2016, Radisson Red was operating two hotels, one in Brussels and another in Minneapolis. A third hotel officially opened in Campinas, Brazil in August 2017. A fourth is scheduled to open in Cape Town, South Africa in September 2017. As of Q4 2016, Radisson had 16 Radisson Red hotels in development with a total of 2,835 rooms.
Passage 5:
Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group
Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group is one of the world’s largest hotel companies and includes 1,440 hotels in operation and under development with more than 230,000 rooms and a footprint spanning 115 countries and territories. The Carlson Rezidor portfolio includes many global brands: Quorvus Collection, Radisson Blu, Radisson, Radisson RED, Park Plaza, Park Inn by Radisson and Country Inns & Suites By CarlsonSM. The company offers a loyalty scheme called Club CarlsonSM, which offers various rewards at their hotels. Over 95,000 people are employed in Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group hotel systems and the company is headquartered in Minneapolis, Singapore, and Brussels.
Passage 6:
Radisson Hotels
Radisson Hotels is an international hotel company and a subsidiary of the Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group. It operates the brands "Radisson", "Radisson blu", "Radisson RED" and "Park Inn by Radisson" with more than 990 locations in 73 countries.
Passage 7:
Radisson Blu Hotel Hamburg
Radisson Blu Hotel Hamburg is a 4-star superior hotel in Hamburg, Germany. It is operated by Radisson Hotels & Resorts under the Radisson Blu brand. At 108 meters height, it is the tallest hotel in Hamburg and the second tallest building in the city. It has 32 floors and 556 rooms. The hotel is surrounded by the park Planten un Blomen and situated directly next to the Congress Center Hamburg (CCH). Hamburg Dammtor station is also located nearby.
Passage 8:
InnSuites Hotels
InnSuites Hotels and Suites is an entirely owned subsidiary of the InnSuites Hospitality. Inn Suites Hotels and Suites, is a group of hotels, and has the IHT as its holding company. It looks after the management of 8 hotels, out of which 6 are owned by the IHT. With an average number of 843 hotel suites, they function mostly as moderate and full service hotels. For 51 unrelated hotel properties, the InnSuites Hotels also gives hotel reservation services. The InnDependent Boutique Collection (IBC) and InnSuites trademarks are owned by the InnSuites Hotels.
Passage 9:
Radisson SAS HC Andersen Hotel
Radisson Blu H.C. Andersen Hotel is a hotel in Odense, Denmark. Run by Radisson Hotels, it is named after Hans Christian Andersen, the most famous figure of the city. Built from red brick, the hotel contains 145 rooms and is served by a French restaurant. The rooms of the hotel are designed in the "1960s Nordic-style". "Frommer's" stated that "it may lack the nostalgic charm of the [Clarion Hotel] Plaza , but commercial travelers find this first-class hotel more convenient and livelier." The hotel contains the Casino Odense, with blackjack and slot machine facilities.
Passage 10:
Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel, Tbilisi
The Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel is a hotel in the city center of Tbilisi located on Rose Revolution Square. The hotel was built in 1967 by the Soviet government as the premier luxury hotel of the Georgian Soviet Socialist Republic and was named Hotel Iveria after the ancient kingdom of Iveria. As a result of the war in Abkhazia in 1992, the hotel became a refugee camp housing more than 800 refugees. In 2004 the refugees were removed from the hotel and offered $7000 per room. The dilapidated hotel was stripped down to its steel structural frame and completely rebuilt as a modern luxury business hotel, managed by the Radisson Hotels group. It reopened in 2009 as the Radisson Blu Iveria Hotel.
Question: Radisson Red (stylized as Radisson RED) is an international chain of full service hotels, marketed at millennials, for Radisson Hotels, an international hotel company and a subsidiary of which organization?
Answer: Carlson Rezidor Hotel Group
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
import torch
from torch.nn.parameter import Parameter
from torch.autograd import Variable, Function
import torch.nn as nn
import numpy as np
def _norm(x, dim, p=2):
"""Computes the norm over all dimensions except dim"""
if p == -1:
func = lambda x, dim: x.max(dim=dim)[0] - x.min(dim=dim)[0]
elif p == float('inf'):
func = lambda x, dim: x.max(dim=dim)[0]
else:
func = lambda x, dim: torch.norm(x, dim=dim, p=p)
if dim is None:
return x.norm(p=p)
elif dim == 0:
output_size = (x.size(0),) + (1,) * (x.dim() - 1)
return func(x.contiguous().view(x.size(0), -1), 1).view(*output_size)
elif dim == x.dim() - 1:
output_size = (1,) * (x.dim() - 1) + (x.size(-1),)
return func(x.contiguous().view(-1, x.size(-1)), 0).view(*output_size)
else:
return _norm(x.transpose(0, dim), 0).transpose(0, dim)
def _mean(p, dim):
"""Computes the mean over all dimensions except dim"""
if dim is None:
return p.mean()
elif dim == 0:
output_size = (p.size(0),) + (1,) * (p.dim() - 1)
return p.contiguous().view(p.size(0), -1).mean(dim=1).view(*output_size)
elif dim == p.dim() - 1:
output_size = (1,) * (p.dim() - 1) + (p.size(-1),)
return p.contiguous().view(-1, p.size(-1)).mean(dim=0).view(*output_size)
else:
return _mean(p.transpose(0, dim), 0).transpose(0, dim)
def _std(p, dim):
"""Computes the mean over all dimensions except dim"""
if dim is None:
return p.std()
elif dim == 0:
output_size = (p.size(0),) + (1,) * (p.dim() - 1)
return p.contiguous().view(p.size(0), -1).std(dim=1).view(*output_size)
elif dim == p.dim() - 1:
output_size = (1,) * (p.dim() - 1) + (p.size(-1),)
return p.contiguous().view(-1, p.size(-1)).std(dim=0).view(*output_size)
else:
return _std(p.transpose(0, dim), 0).transpose(0, dim)
# L2
class LpBatchNorm2d(nn.Module):
# This is L2 Baseline
def __init__(self, num_features, dim=1, p=2, momentum=0.1, bias=True, eps=1e-5, noise=False):
super(LpBatchNorm2d, self).__init__()
self.register_buffer('running_mean', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.register_buffer('running_var', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.momentum = momentum
self.dim = dim
self.noise = noise
self.p = p
self.eps = eps
self.bias = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
self.weight = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
def forward(self, x):
p = self.p
if self.training:
mean = x.view(x.size(0), x.size(self.dim), -1).mean(-1).mean(0)
y = x.transpose(0, 1)
z = y.contiguous()
t = z.view(z.size(0), -1)
Var = (torch.abs((t.transpose(1, 0) - mean))**p).mean(0)
scale = (Var + self.eps)**(-1 / p)
self.running_mean.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
mean.data * (1 - self.momentum))
self.running_var.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
scale.data * (1 - self.momentum))
else:
mean = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_mean)
scale = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_var)
out = (x - mean.view(1, mean.size(0), 1, 1)) * \
scale.view(1, scale.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.noise and self.training:
std = 0.1 * _std(x, self.dim).data
ones = torch.ones_like(x.data)
std_noise = Variable(torch.normal(ones, ones) * std)
out = out * std_noise
if self.weight is not None:
out = out * self.weight.view(1, self.weight.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.bias is not None:
out = out + self.bias.view(1, self.bias.size(0), 1, 1)
return out
class TopkBatchNorm2d(nn.Module):
# this is normalized L_inf
def __init__(self, num_features, k=10, dim=1, momentum=0.1, bias=True, eps=1e-5, noise=False):
super(TopkBatchNorm2d, self).__init__()
self.register_buffer('running_mean', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.register_buffer('running_var', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.momentum = momentum
self.dim = dim
self.noise = noise
self.k = k
self.eps = eps
self.bias = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
self.weight = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
def forward(self, x):
if self.training:
mean = x.view(x.size(0), x.size(self.dim), -1).mean(-1).mean(0)
y = x.transpose(0, 1)
z = y.contiguous()
t = z.view(z.size(0), -1)
A = torch.abs(t.transpose(1, 0) - mean)
const = 0.5 * (1 + (np.pi * np.log(4)) ** 0.5) / \
((2 * np.log(A.size(0))) ** 0.5)
MeanTOPK = (torch.topk(A, self.k, dim=0)[0].mean(0)) * const
scale = 1 / (MeanTOPK + self.eps)
self.running_mean.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
mean.data * (1 - self.momentum))
self.running_var.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
scale.data * (1 - self.momentum))
else:
mean = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_mean)
scale = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_var)
out = (x - mean.view(1, mean.size(0), 1, 1)) * \
scale.view(1, scale.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.noise and self.training:
std = 0.1 * _std(x, self.dim).data
ones = torch.ones_like(x.data)
std_noise = Variable(torch.normal(ones, ones) * std)
out = out * std_noise
if self.weight is not None:
out = out * self.weight.view(1, self.weight.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.bias is not None:
out = out + self.bias.view(1, self.bias.size(0), 1, 1)
return out
# Top10
class GhostTopkBatchNorm2d(nn.Module):
# This is normalized Top10 batch norm
def __init__(self, num_features, k=10, dim=1, momentum=0.1, bias=True, eps=1e-5, beta=0.75, noise=False):
super(GhostTopkBatchNorm2d, self).__init__()
self.register_buffer('running_mean', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.register_buffer('running_var', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.momentum = momentum
self.dim = dim
self.register_buffer('meanTOPK', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.noise = noise
self.k = k
self.beta = 0.75
self.eps = eps
self.bias = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
self.weight = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
def forward(self, x):
# p=5
if self.training:
mean = x.view(x.size(0), x.size(self.dim), -1).mean(-1).mean(0)
y = x.transpose(0, 1)
z = y.contiguous()
t = z.view(z.size(0), -1)
A = torch.abs(t.transpose(1, 0) - mean)
beta = 0.75
MeanTOPK = torch.topk(A, self.k, dim=0)[0].mean(0)
meanTOPK = beta * \
torch.autograd.variable.Variable(
self.biasTOPK) + (1 - beta) * MeanTOPK
const = 0.5 * (1 + (np.pi * np.log(4)) ** 0.5) / \
((2 * np.log(A.size(0))) ** 0.5)
meanTOPK = meanTOPK * const
# print(self.biasTOPK)
self.biasTOPK.copy_(meanTOPK.data)
# self.biasTOPK = MeanTOPK.data
scale = 1 / (meanTOPK + self.eps)
self.running_mean.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
mean.data * (1 - self.momentum))
self.running_var.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
scale.data * (1 - self.momentum))
else:
mean = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_mean)
scale = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_var)
out = (x - mean.view(1, mean.size(0), 1, 1)) * \
scale.view(1, scale.size(0), 1, 1)
# out = (x - mean.view(1, mean.size(0), 1, 1)) * final_scale.view(1, scale.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.noise and self.training:
std = 0.1 * _std(x, self.dim).data
ones = torch.ones_like(x.data)
std_noise = Variable(torch.normal(ones, ones) * std)
out = out * std_noise
if self.weight is not None:
out = out * self.weight.view(1, self.weight.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.bias is not None:
out = out + self.bias.view(1, self.bias.size(0), 1, 1)
return out
# L1
class L1BatchNorm2d(nn.Module):
# This is normalized L1 Batch norm; note the normalization term (np.pi / 2) ** 0.5) when multiplying by Var:
# scale = ((Var * (np.pi / 2) ** 0.5) + self.eps) ** (-1)
"""docstring for L1BatchNorm2d."""
def __init__(self, num_features, dim=1, momentum=0.1, bias=True, normalized=True, eps=1e-5, noise=False):
super(L1BatchNorm2d, self).__init__()
self.register_buffer('running_mean', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.register_buffer('running_var', torch.zeros(num_features))
self.momentum = momentum
self.dim = dim
self.noise = noise
self.bias = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
self.weight = Parameter(torch.Tensor(num_features))
self.eps = eps
if normalized:
self.weight_fix = (np.pi / 2) ** 0.5
else:
self.weight_fix = 1
def forward(self, x):
p = 1
if self.training:
mean = x.view(x.size(0), x.size(self.dim), -1).mean(-1).mean(0)
y = x.transpose(0, 1)
z = y.contiguous()
t = z.view(z.size(0), -1)
Var = (torch.abs((t.transpose(1, 0) - mean))).mean(0)
scale = (Var * self.weight_fix + self.eps) ** (-1)
self.running_mean.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
mean.data * (1 - self.momentum))
self.running_var.mul_(self.momentum).add_(
scale.data * (1 - self.momentum))
else:
mean = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_mean)
scale = torch.autograd.Variable(self.running_var)
out = (x - mean.view(1, mean.size(0), 1, 1)) * \
scale.view(1, scale.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.noise and self.training:
std = 0.1 * _std(x, self.dim).data
ones = torch.ones_like(x.data)
std_noise = Variable(torch.normal(ones, ones) * std)
out = out * std_noise
if self.weight is not None:
out = out * self.weight.view(1, self.weight.size(0), 1, 1)
if self.bias is not None:
out = out + self.bias.view(1, self.bias.size(0), 1, 1)
return out
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: Image caption Minister Izabella Teixeira says she will tackle the problem with local authorities
Brazil says the rate of deforestation in the Amazon increased by 28% between August 2012 and last July, after years of decline.
The government is working to reverse this "crime", Environment Minister Izabella Teixeira said.
Activists have blamed the increase in destruction on a controversial reform to Brazil's forest protection law.
Last year Brazil reported the lowest rate of deforestation in the Amazon since monitoring began.
The provisional statistics from August 2012 to last July suggest that the area suffering deforestation was 5,843 sq km (2,255 sq miles), compared to 4,571 sq km (1,765 sq miles) in the previous 12 months.
The 28% rise interrupts a period of declining deforestation which began in 2009. However, it still remains the second lowest annual figure for forest loss in absolute terms.
The worst year on record was 2004, when 27,000 sq km of forest was destroyed.
Monthly data from several scientific institutions had suggested the deforestation rate might be on the rise.
Image caption Huge swathes of rainforest in the Brazilian Amazon have been cleared by loggers
'Unacceptable'
Environmentalists say the controversial reform of the forest protection law in 2012 is to blame for the upwards trend in Brazil.
The changes reduced protected areas in farms and declared an amnesty for areas destroyed before 2008.
Global forest loss Image caption The map shows forest change from 2000-12. Green areas are forested; red suffered forest loss; blue showed forest gain; pink experienced both loss and gain The Earth lost 2.3m sq km of tree cover in 2000-12, because of logging, fire, disease or storms
But the planet also gained 800,000 sq km of new forest, meaning a net loss of 1.5m sq km
Brazil showed the best improvement of any country, cutting annual forest loss in half between 2003-04 and 2010-11 Forest change mapped by Google Earth
The reform, a long-standing demand of the country's farmers' lobby, known as the ruralists, was passed after several vetoes by President Dilma Rousseff.
Agriculture accounts for more than 5% of the Brazilian GDP.
"If you sleep with the ruralist lobby, you wake up with deforestation," Amazon expert Paulo Adario from Greenpeace wrote on Twitter.
Ms Teixeira said the destruction rate was "unacceptable" but denied President Dilma Rousseff's administration were to blame.
"This swing is not related to any federal government fund cuts for law enforcement," she told reporters, adding that around 4,000 criminal actions have been taken against deforesters in the past year.
As soon as she returns from Poland, where she is representing Brazil at the United Nations summit on climate change, Ms Teixeira said she would set up a meeting with local governors and mayors of the worst hit areas to discuss strategies to revert the trend.
The majority of Brazil's greenhouse gas emissions, believed to be one of the main causes of global warming, stem from deforestation.
The Brazilian government made a commitment in 2009 to reduce deforestation in the Amazon by 80% by the year 2020, in relation to the average between 1996 and 2005.
A new interactive online map, created by the University of Maryland, shows areas of global forest loss and gain from 2000 to 2012.
Brazil showed the best improvement of any country, cutting its deforestation rate in half in the period 2000-2012, from approximately 40,000 sq km per year to approximately 20,000 sq km per year.
But overall the planet saw a net loss of of 1.5 million sq km of forest - an area the size of Mongolia. ||||| Brazil's government reported Thursday that annual destruction of its Amazon rainforest jumped by 28 percent after four straight years of declines, an increase activists said was linked to recent loosening of the nation's environmental law meant to protect the jungle.
Brazil's Environment Minister Izabella Teixeira gives a press conference on deforestation in the Amazon in Brasilia, Brazil, Thursday, Nov. 14, 2013. Brazil's government says destruction of its Amazon... (Associated Press)
FILE - This Sept. 15, 2009 file photo shows a deforested area near Novo Progresso in Brazil's northern state of Para. Brazil's government says destruction of its Amazon rainforest has jumped by 28 percent.... (Associated Press)
However, the destruction was still the second-lowest amount of jungle destroyed since Brazil began tracking deforestation in 1988.
The increase in deforestation came in the August 2012 through July 2013 period, the time when Brazil annually measures the destruction of the forest by studying satellite images. The country registered its lowest level of Amazon felling the year before.
The Amazon rainforest is considered one of the world's most important natural defenses against global warming because of its capacity to absorb huge amounts of carbon dioxide. About 75 percent of Brazil's emissions come from rainforest clearing, as vegetation burns and felled trees rot.
That releases an estimated 400 million tons of carbon dioxide into the atmosphere every year, making Brazil at least the sixth-biggest emitter of the gas.
Environment Minister Izabella Teixeira said Thursday that the most recent figures show 2,256 square miles (5,843 square kilometers) of rainforest were felled. That's compared to the 1,765 square miles (1,571 square kilometers) cleared the previous year.
Environmentalists blame the increase on a loosening of Brazil's environmental laws. They also say that the government's push for big infrastructure projects like dams, roads and railways is pushing deforestation.
A bill revising the Forest Code law passed Congress last year after more than a decade of efforts by Brazil's powerful agricultural lobby to make changes to what has been one of the world's toughest environmental laws, at least on paper.
The changes mostly eased restrictions for landowners with smaller properties, allowing them to clear land closer to riverbanks and other measures. Perhaps the most controversial portion of the new law was what activists say was an amnesty, allowing those who illegally felled land to not face penalties if they signed an agreement to replant trees, which many environmentalists question could be enforced.
Paulo Adario, coordinator of Greenpeace's Amazon campaign, said that it was scandalous that there was such a spike in the destruction.
"The government can't be surprised by this increase in deforestation, given that their own action is what's pushing it," he said. "The change in the Forest Code and the resulting amnesty for those who illegally felled the forest sent the message that such crimes have no consequences."
Adario also said the Rousseff government's strong push for infrastructure projects in the Amazon region was leading to increased deforestation, and Thursday's government report showed that much of the destruction was centered along a government-improved roadway running through the states of Para and Mato Grosso.
Better roads make it easier to illegally extract timber from the jungle and push more soy farmers and ranchers, who clear trees so they can work land and plant pasture, into previously untouched areas.
___
Associated Press writer Brad Brooks contributed to this report from Rio de Janeiro. ||||| Take a look: This is deforestation’s footprint from 2000 to 2012, according to a new study of 650,000 high-resolution satellite images.
The world lost the trees on some 2.3 million square kilometers (0.9 million square miles) of land, while trees grew back or were planted on roughly 0.8 million square kilometers. Here’s what those total land areas would look like in both the U.S. and Europe:
Deforestation at this scale is having a tremendous ecological impact on both species and climate. From 2000 to 2011, deforestation effectively added 16 billion tons of carbon to the atmosphere, about 13% of the world’s total contribution to climate change.
But good data on worldwide forest loss are hard to come by. Many countries report deforestation on their own soil, but define it in differing ways. In Canada, if a stand of trees is cut down, but the stumps aren’t removed, government scientists do not consider it a loss, because the forest will eventually grow back. A similar definition holds in Indonesia, but not in other countries. This makes it impossible to stitch together a consistent global picture from national figures.
The new deforestation study, led by scientists at the University of Maryland and published online Thursday in the journal Science, uses satellite images to look at the wholesale loss and growth of trees around the world, including clear-cutting to make way for agriculture, logging and losses from forest fires. And it does it with extreme granularity. The images have a resolution of 30 meters, which means the entire world is divided up into pixels about one-eighth the size of a soccer pitch.
Indonesia Is Catching Up With Brazil
The analysis confirms that Brazil, the global capital of deforestation, has had some success in reducing it. From 2004 to 2012, its annual rate of deforestation fell nearly by half, from roughly 40,000 sq km a year to slightly more than 25,000. (For this reason, Brazil has the weirdest carbon footprint in the world.)
Meanwhile, Indonesia has been catching up. By 2012, it was cutting down 20,000 sq km of forest a year, nearly the same rate as Brazil, even though Indonesia’s total land mass is less than a quarter of Brazil’s. Here’s an animated gif of forest loss in Indonesia, courtesy of the researchers:
Image: Niels Mickers
This article originally published at Quartz here
Summary: – A year after reporting the lowest rates of Amazon deforestation since monitoring began, Brazil has noted a big change this time around: a 28% surge in deforestation from August 2012 to this July. During that period, 2,255 square miles were destroyed, compared with 1,765 square miles during the same period a year before, the BBC reports. It's still the second-lowest figure since 1988, but after four years of decline, Brazil's environment minister has called it "unacceptable" and a "crime," and many are pointing a finger at the loosening of the country's forest protection laws. After demands from farmers, Brazil changed those laws last year, reducing protected areas in farms and extending an amnesty to those who felled areas before 2008. "The change in the Forest Code and the resulting amnesty for those who illegally felled the forest sent the message that such crimes have no consequences," coordinator of Greenpeace's Amazon campaign told the AP. "The government can't be surprised by this increase in deforestation, given that their own action is what's pushing it." (Meanwhile, check out some staggering new maps that show deforestation around the world between 2000 and 2012 here.)
|
{
"task_name": "multi_news"
}
|
// CodeContracts
//
// Copyright (c) Microsoft Corporation
//
// All rights reserved.
//
// MIT License
//
// Permission is hereby granted, free of charge, to any person obtaining a copy of this software and associated documentation files (the "Software"), to deal in the Software without restriction, including without limitation the rights to use, copy, modify, merge, publish, distribute, sublicense, and/or sell copies of the Software, and to permit persons to whom the Software is furnished to do so, subject to the following conditions:
//
// The above copyright notice and this permission notice shall be included in all copies or substantial portions of the Software.
//
// THE SOFTWARE IS PROVIDED *AS IS*, WITHOUT WARRANTY OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO THE WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY, FITNESS FOR A PARTICULAR PURPOSE AND NONINFRINGEMENT. IN NO EVENT SHALL THE AUTHORS OR COPYRIGHT HOLDERS BE LIABLE FOR ANY CLAIM, DAMAGES OR OTHER LIABILITY, WHETHER IN AN ACTION OF CONTRACT, TORT OR OTHERWISE, ARISING FROM, OUT OF OR IN CONNECTION WITH THE SOFTWARE OR THE USE OR OTHER DEALINGS IN THE SOFTWARE.
using System;
using System.Collections.Generic;
using System.IO;
using System.Diagnostics.Contracts;
/*
Follows "Introduction to Operations Research",Hillier Liberman, eight edition,
chapter "Quadratic Programming"
*/
namespace Microsoft.Glee.Optimization
{
/// <summary>
/// Solves: maximize c*x-0.5xt*Q*x; where xt is transpose of x
/// and Q is a symmetric matrix, Q is also positive semidefinite: that is xt*Qx*x>=0 for any x>=0.
/// Unknown x is not-negative and is a subject to linear constraints added by AddConstraint method.
/// </summary>
public class QP : IQuadraticProgram
{
#region Object Invariant
[ContractInvariantMethod]
void ObjectInvariant()
{
Contract.Invariant(Q != null);
Contract.Invariant(lp != null);
Contract.Invariant(n >= 0);
Contract.Invariant(m >= 0);
Contract.Invariant(A.Count == b.Count);
}
#endregion
readonly List<double[]> A = new List<double[]>();
readonly List<double> b = new List<double>();
readonly Dictionary<IntPair, double> Q = new Dictionary<IntPair, double>();
double[] c;
double[] solution;
int m; //dimensions
int n;
Status status = Status.Infeasible;
readonly LinearProgramInterface lp = LpFactory.CreateLP();
/// <summary>
/// add a linear constraint in the form coeffs*x relation rightSide
/// </summary>
/// <param name="coeffs"></param>
/// <param name="relation">relation can be only "less or equal" or
/// "greater or equal"</param>
/// <param name="rightSide"></param>
public void AddConstraint(double[] coeffs, Relation relation, double rightSide)
{
if (coeffs == null || relation == Relation.Equal)
throw new InvalidDataException();
coeffs = (double[])coeffs.Clone();
//we need to bring every relation to "less or equal"
if (relation == Relation.GreaterOrEqual)
{
for (int i = 0; i < coeffs.Length; i++)
coeffs[i] *= -1;
rightSide = -rightSide;
}
A.Add(coeffs);
b.Add(rightSide);
}
/// <summary>
/// sets i,j element of Q
/// </summary>
/// <param name="i"></param>
/// <param name="j"></param>
/// <param name="qij"></param>
public void SetQMember(int i, int j, double qij)
{
//use here the fact that the matrix is symmetric
if (i <= j)
Q[new IntPair(i, j)] = qij;
else
Q[new IntPair(j, i)] = qij;
if (i + 1 > n)
n = i + 1;
if (j + 1 > n)
n = j + 1;
}
/// <summary>
/// adds d to i,j element of Q
/// </summary>
/// <param name="i"></param>
/// <param name="j"></param>
/// <param name="qij"></param>
public void AddToQMember(int i, int j, double d)
{
IntPair pair = (i <= j) ? new IntPair(i, j) : new IntPair(j, i);
double val = 0;
if (Q.TryGetValue(pair, out val))
{
Q[pair] = val + d;
}
else
Q[pair] = d;
if (i + 1 > n)
n = i + 1;
if (j + 1 > n)
n = j + 1;
}
public void SetLinearCosts(double[] costs)
{
if (costs == null)
throw new InvalidDataException();
this.c = (double[])costs.Clone();
}
[System.Diagnostics.CodeAnalysis.SuppressMessage("Microsoft.Performance", "CA1819:PropertiesShouldNotReturnArrays")]
public double[] Solution
{
get
{
if (solution != null)
return solution;
double[] sol = CalculateSolution();
if (sol == null)
{
return null;
}
solution = new double[n];
for (int i = 0; i < n; i++)
{
solution[i] = sol[i];
}
this.status = Status.Optimal;
return solution;
}
}
public Status Status
{
get { return this.status; }
}
double[] CalculateSolution()
{
Contract.Ensures(Contract.Result<double[]>() == null || Contract.Result<double[]>().Length == this.n);
//we need to create an LP system which is KKT condtitions
//of the quadratic problem.
//The conditions look like
//Qx+Atu-y=ct
//Ax+v=b
//So, we have a vector of variables (x,y,u,v).
//Q is an n by n matrix, x has length n.
//Matrix A is a m by n: u's length is m
//y has dimension n, v has length m
//xy+uv=0
m = A.Count;
double t;
var totalVars = 2 * (n + m);
//we put variables in the order x,y,u,v
//make Qx+Au-y=c. There are n equalities here
//coefficients before x
for (var i = 0; i < n; i++)
{//creating the i-th equality
var cf = new double[totalVars];
for (var j = 0; j < n; j++)
{
if (TryGetQMember(i, j, out t))
cf[j] = t;
}
//coefficients before y are all -1, and start from the index n
cf[i + n] = -1;
//coefficients before u start from 2*n
for (var j = 0; j < m; j++)
{
cf[2 * n + j] = A[j][i];
}
if (c != null)
{
Contract.Assume(i < c.Length);
lp.AddConstraint(cf, Relation.Equal, this.c[i]);
}
else
{
lp.AddConstraint(cf, Relation.Equal, 0);
}
}
for (int i = 0; i < totalVars; i++)
lp.LimitVariableFromBelow(i, 0);
//creating Ax+v=b
for (int i = 0; i < m; i++)
{
//creating the i-th equality
var cf = new double[totalVars];
var AI = A[i];
//coefficients before x
for (int j = 0; j < n; j++)
{
Contract.Assume(j < AI.Length);
cf[j] = AI[j];
}
//coefficients before v are all 1
// they start from 2*n+m
cf[i + 2 * n + m] = 1;
lp.AddConstraint(cf, Relation.Equal, this.b[i]);
}
//the pairs forbidden for complimentary slackness
var forbiddenPairs = new int[totalVars];
for (int i = 0; i < n; i++)
{
forbiddenPairs[i] = n + i; //taking care that x[i]y[i]=0
forbiddenPairs[n + i] = i;
}
for (int i = 0; i < m; i++)
{
forbiddenPairs[2 * n + i] = 2 * n + m + i;
forbiddenPairs[2 * n + m + i] = 2 * n + i;
}
lp.ForbiddenPairs = forbiddenPairs;
lp.EpsilonForArtificials = Double.MaxValue;//don't care
lp.EpsilonForReducedCosts = 0.0001;
double[] ret = lp.FeasibleSolution();
if (lp.Status == Status.Feasible)
return ret;
return null;
}
[Pure]
bool TryGetQMember(int i, int j, out double t)
{
if (i <= j)
return Q.TryGetValue(new IntPair(i, j), out t);
return Q.TryGetValue(new IntPair(j, i), out t);
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: Tiny and slightly stooped, Mrs. Madoff arrived at the interview, held at her sister’s home in Boca Raton , Fla., dressed in cropped white canvas pants and a gray knit top. She spoke in a soft throaty voice, frequently on the edge of tears, about the devastation of her family — and thousands more around the world.
“It’s so sad,” she said. “Everything that I think about the victims — it’s hard to face, because there’s nothing I can do about any of it.”
Like so many of those victims, she now has just a thin slice of the life she once had. Turned down by several Manhattan landlords, she lives in a borrowed town house in a gated community in southeast Florida . She is facing litigation and is “afraid to spend a penny.” The damage her husband inflicted on his victims still shocks her, she said — “it was beyond anything imaginable.”
Photo
But she has slowly rebuilt a life. She worked with children who needed extra emotional support, and now spends up to four days a week as a volunteer for Meals on Wheels, where she has a small network of new friends.
A few things have not changed. Some Madoff victims still accuse her of complicity in the crime — which she denies — and attack her on the Internet or in the media whenever she is mentioned in the news. It has been that way since the day her husband, a respected Wall Street statesman, was arrested for stealing at least $17 billion in cash and $64.8 billion in paper wealth from victims around the world, including many in his extended family.
Advertisement Continue reading the main story
The billions taken from investors largely covered payments to other investors. But some uncounted millions helped support the lavish Madoff lifestyle — yachts, a town house in the south of France , a designer wardrobe, a 10.5-carat diamond, a private jet. Those are all gone, seized to help compensate victims.
Those treasures don’t figure in Mrs. Madoff’s best memories from “before,” she said. Instead, she spoke about being the mother of two bright, busy boys in suburban Roslyn, N.Y., and spending summers on a small boat with the boys doing chores around the docks. She added, “Those were the years that I cherish more than any others.”
Mrs. Madoff struggled to explain why she had stood by her husband, a decision that seemed to catalyze the public hostility toward her that persists to this day. Indeed, she and her husband felt so hopeless and embattled in the weeks after his arrest that they tried to commit suicide by swallowing large handfuls of Ambien, she said.
In an e-mail from prison, Mr. Madoff confirmed that he and his wife “made a feeble attempt” at suicide “while in a severe state of depression . Fortunately, we woke the next morning very sick but alive.” He concluded, “Please understand this is very difficult to admit.”
She stayed with her husband, she said, because “I come from a generation where marriage meant staying put, for better or for worse. This was agonizing, but I couldn’t abandon the man with whom I spent essentially my entire life.”
So she visited him a handful of times at a federal prison in Butner, N.C. One visit in 2009 came after the publication of a memoir in which a former Hadassah executive claimed to have had an affair with Mr. Madoff.
Gathering the doubts of decades — “he was always a flirt,” she said — she confronted her husband in the prison visiting room.
“I said, ‘Tell me what happened. I can’t stand the thought of you lying to me.’ He said it was totally not true, but I didn’t believe him.”
Advertisement Continue reading the main story
When she finally cut her ties to her husband, it was too late for her son Mark. After his suicide attempt in October 2009, Mark Madoff had begged her to walk away from his father. But she didn’t act quickly enough, she said. On Dec. 10, 2010, the second anniversary of his father’s arrest, Mark Madoff hanged himself.
One more time, Mrs. Madoff called the prison — to tell her husband that their firstborn was dead. She spoke first to a chaplain, she recalled, near tears. “He got Bernie — he told him before I spoke to him. I could barely get it out.”
Mrs. Madoff said she was “haunted” by her failure to act soon on her older son’s appeals. “I had no idea it affected Mark so brutally,” she said, tears spilling over.
That memory determined her response when, early this year, her surviving son, Andrew, asked her to help promote the new book. Despite her lawyer’s opposition and her own fears, she barely hesitated.
“I wanted to do what he wanted me to do,” she said. “I hadn’t done it in Mark’s case, and I will regret that until my dying day.”
Photo
Unlike his mother, Andrew Madoff did walk out when his father confessed. But that did not exempt him from the suspicion his mother still faces.
Like many brothers, Andrew and Mark Madoff were always rivals — Mark was the better athlete, Andrew made better grades. Their first marriages, and subsequent divorces, introduced new tensions into their relationship. At work in their father’s firm, they vied fretfully for his approval.
But when their father told them on Dec. 10, 2008, that his glittering success was actually an immense Ponzi scheme, the brothers were instantly united.
Newsletter Sign Up Continue reading the main story Please verify you're not a robot by clicking the box. Invalid email address. Please re-enter. You must select a newsletter to subscribe to. Sign Up You agree to receive occasional updates and special offers for The New York Times's products and services. Thank you for subscribing. An error has occurred. Please try again later. View all New York Times newsletters.
“Every bit of rivalry or anger or anything simply got parked outside,” Andrew Madoff said in a recent interview in the sunny Midtown Manhattan offices of Black Umbrella, an emergency preparedness consulting business founded by his fiancée, Catherine Hooper.
Advertisement Continue reading the main story
“We knew we had to turn him in, but we had no idea how.”
What they did next made worldwide headlines: they reported their father’s confession to law enforcement officials and he was arrested early the next morning. Bernie Madoff pleaded guilty and was sentenced to 150 years in prison.
Their father’s crime sent them careening toward grievously different destinations.
When Mark Madoff tried to kill himself in October 2009, his younger brother was furious at what he saw as his brother’s abandonment of his family. During one hospital visit, Andrew angrily told Mark he would no longer be listed as the legal guardian for Andrew’s children.
He acknowledged his reaction might seem harsh. He explained: “I was very angry at him. I wanted to help him. He wouldn’t really let me, and that was very painful.”
Until his brother’s suicide, he had not been in regular contact with his mother since before the arrest. “I didn’t really think about my mother or the impact on her.” He and Mark discussed which of them could take her in, he recalled, but never posed the offer to her.
Before they could, he said, she asked him to sign for his father’s bail. “I was devastated. There was no chance that I was going to sign, and I couldn’t believe that she would ask me to.”
Like their mother, both Madoff sons were the targets of public accusations that they had been involved in the scheme.
Ruth and Andrew Madoff deny that, and neither they nor Mark were ever the focus of a criminal investigation. “I would have no way of knowing” about the elaborately concealed fraud, and neither did her sons, Mrs. Madoff said.
Andrew Madoff, casually dressed for his interview in jeans and a dark sweater, was even more emphatic. “From the beginning, when this whole thing started, I’ve wanted to talk and tell my story.” When Ms. Hooper, his fiancée, suggested he work with Ms. Sandell on an authorized biography, he immediately agreed.
Advertisement Continue reading the main story
Why? “I’m hoping that when people have heard my story, they will judge me a little bit less harshly,” he said.
Mr. Madoff first learned about his parents’ suicide attempt early this year. “It gave me a little better insight into where she was emotionally when all this came unfolding,” he said.
He added, “I had hardened myself a little to her within that period.”
He says he thinks his mother should file for divorce, but she sees that as a meaningless gesture. He also says that working on the book has helped his mother deal with her anger over his father’s betrayals and will make a hostile public more sympathetic.
Mrs. Madoff doubts that, she said. But she said she would like to emerge with two precious things: She hopes to have sewn together at least some pieces of her tattered family life. And she hopes to feel “that I can walk down the street and hold my head up a little bit.” ||||| Crime, punishment, and the shame of being a Madoff
In their first interview about the crimes of Bernard Madoff, the son and the wife of the man who scammed billions of dollars provide the first inside account from the immediate family. Ruth Madoff and son Andrew tell Morley Safer how Madoff confessed his crimes to them, their reaction and the subsequent family strife of the past three years.
When news broke that Bernard Madoff had swindled thousands of people out of billions of dollars, many assumed that his family must have known all along. But Madoff's wife Ruth and son Andrew tell Morley Safer they were blindsided when Madoff finally confessed that he'd been running a giant Ponzi scheme. In their first television interviews, they describe how their once-happy family was completely destroyed.
The following script is from "Madoff" which aired on Oct. 30, 2011
Madoff...It is a name that will live in infamy...It's been nearly three years since Bernard Madoff confessed to running a $65 billion Ponzi scheme - the largest financial fraud in history. Thousands of trusting clients who felt safe investing with a financial genius were swindled. He hadn't invested a penny.
While Madoff is serving 150 years in prison, his family has had to deal with the consequences of his crimes. His wife Ruth, divested of most of her great wealth - and derided by a suspicious world. Their son Mark - dead. Driven to suicide by shame and accusations of guilt. Their other son Andrew isolated - trying to live with the disgrace.
60 Minutes Overtime: Ruth Madoff: Why she's telling her story
60 Minutes Overtime: Sons called in FBI to arrest Bernie Madoff
Are they innocent or were they willing partners? For the first time since Bernie Madoff's arrest, his son Andrew and wife Ruth speak out about crime, punishment and the shame of being a Madoff.
Morley Safer: It's a tough name to live with.
Ruth Madoff: It sure is.
Ruth Madoff...
Safer: Do you feel the shame?
Ruth: Of course I feel the shame. I can barely walk down the street without worrying about people recognizing me.
And Andrew Madoff...
Andrew Madoff: From the very beginning of this whole episode-- I've had absolutely nothing to hide. And I've been eager, I would say almost desperate to speak out publicly and tell people that I'm absolutely not involved.
Andrew and Ruth Madoff speak out in the book "Truth and Consequences"- a more or less tell-all arranged by Andrew's fiancee Catherine Hooper. An attempt to separate the family from the father's crimes.
Safer: Is it dismaying for you that no matter what you say people aren't going to believe you?
Catherine Hooper: I think in many ways it is dismaying, but public opinion has to be something that doesn't matter to us. What matters to us is the truth.
Safer: It's really hard for people to believe that you didn't know, that you must have known.
Ruth: I can't explain it. I mean I trusted him. Why would it ever occur to me that it wasn't legal? The business was--his reputation was almost legendary. Why would I ever think that there was something sinister going on?
It was 1954 when Ruth Alpern met Bernie Madoff in Queens, N.Y.
Ruth: I just saw him and I was sort of swept away, I think.
She married him at age 18. They had two sons - Mark, then Andrew. Bernie was building up his money management business - a typical middle class family living on Long Island.
Ruth: We were both solid parents and valued our family and so proud of our boys. It was a dream, really.
Andrew: My father was certainly present as a dad.
Safer: Did he emphasize moral values at all?
Andrew: I wouldn't say that we sort of explicitly discussed values. But we certainly lived what I felt was a moral life, where there was a clear sense of right and wrong.
Summary: – Almost three years ago, Bernie Madoff turned to his wife and said, “I have a confession to make: I’ve been running a Ponzi scheme,” Ruth Madoff recalled on 60 Minutes last night. Son Andrew remembers his mother’s response: “What’s a Ponzi scheme?” Once she realized what was going on, however, Ruth says she was “paralyzed” and remembers little more of what her husband said. Brother Mark, who later committed suicide, “stormed out of the room,” Andrew says; even so, Bernie then went back to his office and, later that night, brought his wife to a company holiday party. The next morning, the FBI took him away. Prior to Bernie’s confession, the family had no idea. “Why would I ever think that there was something sinister going on?” Ruth says. “I mean, I trusted him.” She has not spoken to her husband since Mark’s suicide, and Andrew says he will never forgive his father. In a separate New York Times interview, also timed to coincide with today’s release of the authorized family biography, Ruth recalls another hurt: her husband’s rumored affair. She confronted him about it in prison. “He said it was totally not true,” she says, “but I didn’t believe him.” Click for the book's biggest revelations.
|
{
"task_name": "multi_news"
}
|
package org.broadinstitute.hellbender.tools.spark.sv.evidence;
import biz.k11i.xgboost.Predictor;
import biz.k11i.xgboost.learner.ObjFunction;
import com.google.common.annotations.VisibleForTesting;
import htsjdk.samtools.CigarElement;
import htsjdk.samtools.CigarOperator;
import htsjdk.samtools.TextCigarCodec;
import htsjdk.samtools.util.IOUtil;
import htsjdk.tribble.bed.BEDFeature;
import org.apache.commons.lang3.tuple.ImmutablePair;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.engine.FeatureDataSource;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.exceptions.GATKException;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.tools.spark.sv.StructuralVariationDiscoveryArgumentCollection;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.tools.spark.sv.utils.*;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.tools.spark.utils.IntHistogram;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.utils.SimpleInterval;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.utils.gcs.BucketUtils;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.utils.io.IOUtils;
import org.broadinstitute.hellbender.tools.spark.sv.evidence.BreakpointEvidence.*;
import java.io.*;
import java.util.*;
/**
* A class that acts as a filter for BreakpointEvidence.
* Features are calculated according to evidence type, overlap information, mapping quality, etc.
* A trained classifier scores the probability the evidence overlaps a breakpoint interval, and passes evidence above
* the specified threshold.
*/
public final class XGBoostEvidenceFilter implements Iterator<BreakpointEvidence> {
// use fast math exp for logistic function in XGBoost?
private static final boolean USE_FAST_MATH_EXP = true;
private static final List<Class<?>> DEFAULT_EVIDENCE_TYPE_ORDER = Arrays.asList(
TemplateSizeAnomaly.class, MateUnmapped.class, InterContigPair.class,
SplitRead.class, LargeIndel.class, WeirdTemplateSize.class, SameStrandPair.class, OutiesPair.class
);
private static final Map<Class<?>, Integer> evidenceTypeMap = evidenceTypeOrderToImmutableMap(DEFAULT_EVIDENCE_TYPE_ORDER);
private static final String DEFAULT_PREDICTOR_RESOURCE_PATH = "/large/sv_evidence_classifier.bin";
private static final double DEFAULT_GOOD_GAP_OVERLAP = 0.0;
private static final double DEFAULT_GOOD_MAPPABILITY = 1.0;
private static final int DEFAULT_GOOD_MAPPING_QUALITY = 60;
private static final double NON_READ_MAPPING_QUALITY = DEFAULT_GOOD_MAPPING_QUALITY; // alternatively could be Double.NaN
private static final double NON_READ_CIGAR_LENGTHS = 0.0; // alternatively could be Double.NaN
private final PartitionCrossingChecker partitionCrossingChecker;
private final Predictor predictor;
private final double thresholdProbability;
private final ReadMetadata readMetadata;
private final EvidenceOverlapChecker evidenceOverlapChecker;
private final Map<BreakpointEvidence, UnscaledOverlapInfo> rawFeatureCache;
private Iterator<SVIntervalTree.Entry<List<BreakpointEvidence>>> treeItr;
private Iterator<BreakpointEvidence> listItr;
private final FeatureDataSource<BEDFeature> genomeGaps;
private final FeatureDataSource<BEDFeature> umapS100Mappability;
XGBoostEvidenceFilter(
final Iterator<BreakpointEvidence> evidenceItr,
final ReadMetadata readMetadata,
final StructuralVariationDiscoveryArgumentCollection.FindBreakpointEvidenceSparkArgumentCollection params,
final PartitionCrossingChecker partitionCrossingChecker
) {
if(params.svGenomeGapsFile == null && params.runWithoutGapsAnnotation) {
genomeGaps = null;
} else if(params.svGenomeGapsFile != null && !params.runWithoutGapsAnnotation) {
genomeGaps = new FeatureDataSource<>(params.svGenomeGapsFile);
} else {
throw new IllegalArgumentException(
"XGBoostEvidenceFilter requires specifying --sv-genome-gaps-file or passing --run-without-gaps-annotation (but not both)"
);
}
if(params.svGenomeUmapS100File == null && params.runWithoutUmapS100Annotation) {
umapS100Mappability = null;
} else if(params.svGenomeUmapS100File != null && !params.runWithoutUmapS100Annotation) {
umapS100Mappability = new FeatureDataSource<>(params.svGenomeUmapS100File);
} else {
throw new IllegalArgumentException(
"XGBoostEvidenceFilter requires specifying --sv-genome-umap-s100-file or passing --run-without-umap-s100-annotation (but not both)"
);
}
predictor = loadPredictor(params.svEvidenceFilterModelFile);
this.partitionCrossingChecker = partitionCrossingChecker;
thresholdProbability = params.svEvidenceFilterThresholdProbability;
this.readMetadata = readMetadata;
evidenceOverlapChecker = new EvidenceOverlapChecker(evidenceItr, readMetadata, params.minEvidenceMapQ);
rawFeatureCache = new HashMap<>();
listItr = null;
treeItr = evidenceOverlapChecker.getTreeIterator();
}
private static Map<Class<?>, Integer> evidenceTypeOrderToImmutableMap(final List<Class<?>> evidenceTypeOrder) {
final HashMap<Class<?>, Integer> evidenceTypeMap = new HashMap<>();
for(int index = 0; index < evidenceTypeOrder.size(); ++index) {
evidenceTypeMap.put(evidenceTypeOrder.get(index), index);
}
return Collections.unmodifiableMap(evidenceTypeMap);
}
public static Predictor loadPredictor(final String modelFileLocation) {
ObjFunction.useFastMathExp(USE_FAST_MATH_EXP);
try(final InputStream inputStream = modelFileLocation == null ?
resourcePathToInputStream(DEFAULT_PREDICTOR_RESOURCE_PATH) : BucketUtils.openFile(modelFileLocation)) {
return new Predictor(inputStream);
} catch(Exception e) {
throw new GATKException(
"Unable to load predictor from classifier file "
+ (modelFileLocation == null ? DEFAULT_PREDICTOR_RESOURCE_PATH : modelFileLocation)
+ ": " + e.getMessage()
);
}
}
private static InputStream resourcePathToInputStream(final String resourcePath) throws IOException {
final InputStream inputStream = XGBoostEvidenceFilter.class.getResourceAsStream(resourcePath);
return IOUtil.hasBlockCompressedExtension(resourcePath) ?
IOUtils.makeZippedInputStream(new BufferedInputStream(inputStream))
: inputStream;
}
@Override
public boolean hasNext() {
if ( listItr != null && listItr.hasNext() ) {
return true;
}
listItr = null;
boolean result = false;
while ( !result && treeItr.hasNext() ) {
final SVIntervalTree.Entry<List<BreakpointEvidence>> entry = treeItr.next();
final SVInterval curInterval = entry.getInterval();
final List<BreakpointEvidence> evidenceList = entry.getValue();
if( isValidated(entry.getValue()) || partitionCrossingChecker.onBoundary(curInterval) ) {
// already validated (no need to mark validated again) or on partition boundary (punt for now)
result = true;
} else if( anyPassesFilter(evidenceList) ) {
evidenceList.forEach(ev -> ev.setValidated(true));
result = true;
}
if ( result ) {
listItr = entry.getValue().iterator();
}
}
return result;
}
@Override
public BreakpointEvidence next() {
if ( !hasNext() ) {
throw new NoSuchElementException("No next element.");
}
return listItr.next();
}
private boolean isValidated( final List<BreakpointEvidence> evList ) {
for ( final BreakpointEvidence ev : evList ) {
if ( ev.isValidated() ) return true;
}
return false;
}
private boolean anyPassesFilter(final List<BreakpointEvidence> evidenceList) {
for(final BreakpointEvidence evidence : evidenceList) {
if(predictProbability(evidence) > thresholdProbability) {
return true;
}
}
return false;
}
@VisibleForTesting
double predictProbability(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
return predictor.predictSingle(getFeatures(evidence));
}
/**
* Compute features vector for a piece of BreakpointEvidence
*/
@VisibleForTesting
EvidenceFeatures getFeatures(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
// create new struct for these two, use CigarOperator to update if it's ReadEvidence
final CigarQualityInfo cigarQualityInfo = new CigarQualityInfo(evidence);
final double evidenceType = evidenceTypeMap.get(evidence.getClass());
final double mappingQuality = getMappingQuality(evidence);
// calculate these similar to BreakpointDensityFilter, but always calculate full totals, never end early.
final CoverageScaledOverlapInfo individualOverlapInfo = getIndividualOverlapInfo(evidence);
final CoverageScaledOverlapInfo clusterOverlapInfo = getClusterOverlapInfo(evidence);
// calculate properties related to overlap of intervals on the reference genome
final double referenceGapOverlap = genomeGaps == null ?
DEFAULT_GOOD_GAP_OVERLAP
: getGenomeIntervalsOverlap(evidence, genomeGaps, readMetadata);
final double umapS100 = umapS100Mappability == null ?
DEFAULT_GOOD_MAPPABILITY
: getGenomeIntervalsOverlap(evidence, umapS100Mappability, readMetadata);
// either templateSize is defined (for ReadEvidence) or readCount (for TemplateSizeAnomaly).
final double templateSizeOrReadCount = getTemplateSizeOrReadCount(evidence);
return new EvidenceFeatures(
new double[]{
cigarQualityInfo.basesMatched, cigarQualityInfo.referenceLength, evidenceType, mappingQuality, templateSizeOrReadCount,
individualOverlapInfo.numOverlap, individualOverlapInfo.totalOverlapMappingQuality,
individualOverlapInfo.meanOverlapMappingQuality, individualOverlapInfo.numCoherent,
individualOverlapInfo.totalCoherentMappingQuality,
clusterOverlapInfo.numOverlap, clusterOverlapInfo.totalOverlapMappingQuality,
clusterOverlapInfo.meanOverlapMappingQuality, clusterOverlapInfo.numCoherent,
clusterOverlapInfo.totalCoherentMappingQuality,
referenceGapOverlap, umapS100
}
);
}
/**
* Return mapping quality for BreakpointEvidence for the purpose of only describing this evidence (no combination
* with overlappers).
* For non-ReadEvidence, depending on feature-selection strategy, return NaN or "max" mapping quality (Non-ReadEvidence
* isn't *bad* per se, so give it a good score).
*/
private double getMappingQuality(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
// Note: return "max" mapping quality for non-ReadEvidence. Reasoning: some features depend on sum or average of
// read qualities. Non-ReadEvidence isn't *bad* per se, so give it a good score.
return evidence instanceof ReadEvidence ? ((ReadEvidence) evidence).getMappingQuality() : NON_READ_MAPPING_QUALITY;
}
/**
* Return mapping quality for BreakpointEvidence for the purposes of calculating sum over overlappers.
* return "max" mapping quality for non-ReadEvidence. Reasoning: returning NaN will corrupt sums. Non-ReadEvidence
* isn't *bad* per se, so give it a good score.
*/
private int getMappingQualityForOverlap(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
// Note: return "max" mapping quality for non-ReadEvidence. Reasoning: features using this function depend on
// sum or average of read qualities. Non-ReadEvidence isn't *bad* per se, so give it a good score.
return evidence instanceof ReadEvidence ? ((ReadEvidence) evidence).getMappingQuality() : DEFAULT_GOOD_MAPPING_QUALITY;
}
private double getTemplateSizeOrReadCount(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
if(evidence instanceof ReadEvidence) {
return getTemplateSize((ReadEvidence) evidence);
} else if(evidence instanceof TemplateSizeAnomaly) {
return getReadCounts((TemplateSizeAnomaly) evidence);
} else {
throw new IllegalStateException("templateSizeOrReadCount feature is only defined for ReadEvidence and TemplateSizeAnomaly, not "
+ evidence.getClass().getName());
}
}
/** For ReadEvidence, return templateSize as percentile of library's cumulative density function */
private double getTemplateSize(final ReadEvidence readEvidence) {
final int templateSize = readEvidence.getTemplateSize();
final String readGroup = readEvidence.getReadGroup();
final String library = readMetadata.getReadGroupToLibraryMap().get(readGroup);
final LibraryStatistics libraryStatistics = readMetadata.getLibraryStatistics(library);
final IntHistogram.CDF templateSizeCDF = libraryStatistics.getCDF();
final int cdfBin = Integer.min(Math.abs(templateSize), templateSizeCDF.size() - 1);
return templateSizeCDF.getFraction(cdfBin);
}
/** for TemplateSizeAnomaly, return readCounts scaled by average genome coverage */
private double getReadCounts(final TemplateSizeAnomaly templateSizeAnomaly) {
final Integer readCounts = templateSizeAnomaly.getReadCount();
return (double)(readCounts) / readMetadata.getCoverage();
}
private CoverageScaledOverlapInfo getIndividualOverlapInfo(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
// Since overlap info will be needed for the same evidence in different contexts, it's fastest to calculate it
// once, cache it, and then just retrieve the info each time it's needed.
if(!rawFeatureCache.containsKey(evidence)) {
cacheOverlapInfo(evidence);
}
final UnscaledOverlapInfo evidenceFeatureCache = rawFeatureCache.get(evidence);
// Calculate the coverage scaled overlap info
return new CoverageScaledOverlapInfo(
evidenceFeatureCache.numOverlap, evidenceFeatureCache.numCoherent,
evidenceFeatureCache.totalOverlapMappingQuality, evidenceFeatureCache.totalCoherentMappingQuality,
evidenceFeatureCache.meanOverlapMappingQuality, readMetadata.getCoverage()
);
}
private CoverageScaledOverlapInfo getClusterOverlapInfo(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
int clusterNumOverlap = 0;
int clusterNumCoherent = 0;
int clusterOverlapMappingQuality = 0;
int clusterCoherentMappingQuality = 0;
double clusterMeanOverlapMappingQuality = 0.0;
for (final Iterator<BreakpointEvidence> overlapperItr = evidenceOverlapChecker.overlappers(evidence); overlapperItr.hasNext(); ) {
final BreakpointEvidence overlapper = overlapperItr.next();
if (overlapper.equals(evidence)) {
continue; // don't count self-overlap in cluster features
}
if(!rawFeatureCache.containsKey(overlapper)) {
cacheOverlapInfo(overlapper);
}
final UnscaledOverlapInfo overlapperFeatureCache = rawFeatureCache.get(overlapper);
clusterNumOverlap = Math.max(clusterNumOverlap, overlapperFeatureCache.numOverlap);
clusterNumCoherent = Math.max(clusterNumCoherent, overlapperFeatureCache.numCoherent);
clusterOverlapMappingQuality = Math.max(clusterOverlapMappingQuality, overlapperFeatureCache.totalOverlapMappingQuality);
clusterCoherentMappingQuality = Math.max(clusterCoherentMappingQuality, overlapperFeatureCache.totalCoherentMappingQuality);
clusterMeanOverlapMappingQuality = Math.max(clusterMeanOverlapMappingQuality, overlapperFeatureCache.meanOverlapMappingQuality);
}
return new CoverageScaledOverlapInfo(clusterNumOverlap, clusterNumCoherent, clusterOverlapMappingQuality,
clusterCoherentMappingQuality, clusterMeanOverlapMappingQuality, readMetadata.getCoverage());
}
/**
* For given BreakpointEvidence, calculate number of overlappers, coherent pieces of BreakpointEvidence, and
* the sums of their mapping qualities. Cache this information so that it can be looked up when computing max or
* average of these values over the set of overlapping evidence (as in getClusterOverlapInfo).
*/
private void cacheOverlapInfo(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
int numOverlap = 0;
int totalOverlapMappingQuality = 0;
int numCoherent = 0;
int totalCoherentMappingQuality = 0;
for(final EvidenceOverlapChecker.OverlapAndCoherenceIterator overlapperItr
= evidenceOverlapChecker.overlappersWithCoherence(evidence);
overlapperItr.hasNext();) {
final ImmutablePair<BreakpointEvidence, Boolean> itrResults = overlapperItr.next();
final BreakpointEvidence overlapper = itrResults.left;
if(overlapper.equals(evidence)) {
continue; // don't count self-overlap
}
++numOverlap;
final int mappingQuality = getMappingQualityForOverlap(overlapper);
totalOverlapMappingQuality += mappingQuality;
final boolean isCoherent = itrResults.right;
if(isCoherent) {
++numCoherent;
totalCoherentMappingQuality += mappingQuality;
}
}
rawFeatureCache.put(evidence,
new UnscaledOverlapInfo(numOverlap, numCoherent, totalOverlapMappingQuality, totalCoherentMappingQuality));
}
private static class UnscaledOverlapInfo {
final int numOverlap;
final int numCoherent;
final int totalOverlapMappingQuality;
final int totalCoherentMappingQuality;
final double meanOverlapMappingQuality;
UnscaledOverlapInfo(final int numOverlap, final int numCoherent, final int totalOverlapMappingQuality,
final int totalCoherentMappingQuality) {
this.numOverlap = numOverlap;
this.numCoherent = numCoherent;
this.totalOverlapMappingQuality = totalOverlapMappingQuality;
this.totalCoherentMappingQuality = totalCoherentMappingQuality;
this.meanOverlapMappingQuality = ((double)this.totalOverlapMappingQuality) / numOverlap;
}
}
/**
* Class that takes raw overlap info and automatically scales it to meanGenomeCoverage, storing the result for later retrieval
*/
private static class CoverageScaledOverlapInfo {
final double numOverlap;
final double totalOverlapMappingQuality;
final double meanOverlapMappingQuality;
final double numCoherent;
final double totalCoherentMappingQuality;
CoverageScaledOverlapInfo(final int numOverlap, final int numCoherent, final int totalOverlapMappingQuality,
final int totalCoherentMappingQuality, final double meanOverlapMappingQuality,
final double coverage) {
this.numOverlap = ((double)numOverlap) / coverage;
this.totalOverlapMappingQuality = ((double) totalOverlapMappingQuality) / coverage;
this.numCoherent = ((double)numCoherent) / coverage;
this.totalCoherentMappingQuality = ((double) totalCoherentMappingQuality) / coverage;
this.meanOverlapMappingQuality = meanOverlapMappingQuality;
}
}
private static class CigarQualityInfo {
final double basesMatched;
final double referenceLength;
CigarQualityInfo(final BreakpointEvidence evidence) {
if(evidence instanceof ReadEvidence) {
int numMatched = 0;
int refLength = 0;
final String cigarString = ((ReadEvidence) evidence).getCigarString();
for (final CigarElement element : TextCigarCodec.decode(cigarString).getCigarElements()) {
final CigarOperator op = element.getOperator();
if (op.consumesReferenceBases()) {
refLength += element.getLength();
if (op.consumesReadBases()) {
numMatched += element.getLength();
}
}
}
basesMatched = numMatched;
referenceLength = refLength;
}
else {
basesMatched = NON_READ_CIGAR_LENGTHS;
referenceLength = NON_READ_CIGAR_LENGTHS;
}
}
}
/**
* Calculate fractional overlap of BreakpointEvidence with genome tract data.
* Separately sum the number of base pairs in genomeIntervals that overlap evidence (allowing base pairs to
* count multiple times if there is overlap in genomeIntervals) then divide by length of evidence. returned
* value will be double >= 0, but may be larger than 1 if any genomeIntervals overlap each other.
*/
private static double getGenomeIntervalsOverlap(final BreakpointEvidence evidence,
final FeatureDataSource<BEDFeature> genomeIntervals,
final ReadMetadata readMetadata) {
final SimpleInterval simpleInterval = evidence.getLocation().toSimpleInterval(readMetadata);
int overlap = 0;
for(final Iterator<BEDFeature> overlapperItr = genomeIntervals.query(simpleInterval); overlapperItr.hasNext();) {
final BEDFeature overlapper = overlapperItr.next();
// " + 1" because genome tract data is semi-closed, but BEDFeature is fully closed
final int overlapLength = Math.min(simpleInterval.getEnd(), overlapper.getEnd()) + 1
- Math.max(simpleInterval.getStart(), overlapper.getStart());
overlap += overlapLength;
}
return overlap / (double)simpleInterval.size();
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
package org.bouncycastle.math.ec.custom.sec;
import java.math.BigInteger;
import org.bouncycastle.math.raw.Interleave;
import org.bouncycastle.math.raw.Nat256;
public class SecT193Field
{
private static final long M01 = 1L;
private static final long M49 = -1L >>> 15;
public static void add(long[] x, long[] y, long[] z)
{
z[0] = x[0] ^ y[0];
z[1] = x[1] ^ y[1];
z[2] = x[2] ^ y[2];
z[3] = x[3] ^ y[3];
}
public static void addExt(long[] xx, long[] yy, long[] zz)
{
zz[0] = xx[0] ^ yy[0];
zz[1] = xx[1] ^ yy[1];
zz[2] = xx[2] ^ yy[2];
zz[3] = xx[3] ^ yy[3];
zz[4] = xx[4] ^ yy[4];
zz[5] = xx[5] ^ yy[5];
zz[6] = xx[6] ^ yy[6];
}
public static void addOne(long[] x, long[] z)
{
z[0] = x[0] ^ 1L;
z[1] = x[1];
z[2] = x[2];
z[3] = x[3];
}
public static long[] fromBigInteger(BigInteger x)
{
long[] z = Nat256.fromBigInteger64(x);
reduce63(z, 0);
return z;
}
public static void multiply(long[] x, long[] y, long[] z)
{
long[] tt = Nat256.createExt64();
implMultiply(x, y, tt);
reduce(tt, z);
}
public static void multiplyAddToExt(long[] x, long[] y, long[] zz)
{
long[] tt = Nat256.createExt64();
implMultiply(x, y, tt);
addExt(zz, tt, zz);
}
public static void reduce(long[] xx, long[] z)
{
long x0 = xx[0], x1 = xx[1], x2 = xx[2], x3 = xx[3], x4 = xx[4], x5 = xx[5], x6 = xx[6];
x2 ^= (x6 << 63);
x3 ^= (x6 >>> 1) ^ (x6 << 14);
x4 ^= (x6 >>> 50);
x1 ^= (x5 << 63);
x2 ^= (x5 >>> 1) ^ (x5 << 14);
x3 ^= (x5 >>> 50);
x0 ^= (x4 << 63);
x1 ^= (x4 >>> 1) ^ (x4 << 14);
x2 ^= (x4 >>> 50);
long t = x3 >>> 1;
z[0] = x0 ^ t ^ (t << 15);
z[1] = x1 ^ (t >>> 49);
z[2] = x2;
z[3] = x3 & M01;
}
public static void reduce63(long[] z, int zOff)
{
long z3 = z[zOff + 3], t = z3 >>> 1;
z[zOff ] ^= t ^ (t << 15);
z[zOff + 1] ^= (t >>> 49);
z[zOff + 3] = z3 & M01;
}
public static void square(long[] x, long[] z)
{
long[] tt = Nat256.createExt64();
implSquare(x, tt);
reduce(tt, z);
}
public static void squareAddToExt(long[] x, long[] zz)
{
long[] tt = Nat256.createExt64();
implSquare(x, tt);
addExt(zz, tt, zz);
}
public static void squareN(long[] x, int n, long[] z)
{
// assert n > 0;
long[] tt = Nat256.createExt64();
implSquare(x, tt);
reduce(tt, z);
while (--n > 0)
{
implSquare(z, tt);
reduce(tt, z);
}
}
protected static void implCompactExt(long[] zz)
{
long z0 = zz[0], z1 = zz[1], z2 = zz[2], z3 = zz[3], z4 = zz[4], z5 = zz[5], z6 = zz[6], z7 = zz[7];
zz[0] = z0 ^ (z1 << 49);
zz[1] = (z1 >>> 15) ^ (z2 << 34);
zz[2] = (z2 >>> 30) ^ (z3 << 19);
zz[3] = (z3 >>> 45) ^ (z4 << 4)
^ (z5 << 53);
zz[4] = (z4 >>> 60) ^ (z6 << 38)
^ (z5 >>> 11);
zz[5] = (z6 >>> 26) ^ (z7 << 23);
zz[6] = (z7 >>> 41);
zz[7] = 0;
}
protected static void implExpand(long[] x, long[] z)
{
long x0 = x[0], x1 = x[1], x2 = x[2], x3 = x[3];
z[0] = x0 & M49;
z[1] = ((x0 >>> 49) ^ (x1 << 15)) & M49;
z[2] = ((x1 >>> 34) ^ (x2 << 30)) & M49;
z[3] = ((x2 >>> 19) ^ (x3 << 45));
}
protected static void implMultiply(long[] x, long[] y, long[] zz)
{
/*
* "Two-level seven-way recursion" as described in "Batch binary Edwards", Daniel J. Bernstein.
*/
long[] f = new long[4], g = new long[4];
implExpand(x, f);
implExpand(y, g);
implMulwAcc(f[0], g[0], zz, 0);
implMulwAcc(f[1], g[1], zz, 1);
implMulwAcc(f[2], g[2], zz, 2);
implMulwAcc(f[3], g[3], zz, 3);
// U *= (1 - t^n)
for (int i = 5; i > 0; --i)
{
zz[i] ^= zz[i - 1];
}
implMulwAcc(f[0] ^ f[1], g[0] ^ g[1], zz, 1);
implMulwAcc(f[2] ^ f[3], g[2] ^ g[3], zz, 3);
// V *= (1 - t^2n)
for (int i = 7; i > 1; --i)
{
zz[i] ^= zz[i - 2];
}
// Double-length recursion
{
long c0 = f[0] ^ f[2], c1 = f[1] ^ f[3];
long d0 = g[0] ^ g[2], d1 = g[1] ^ g[3];
implMulwAcc(c0 ^ c1, d0 ^ d1, zz, 3);
long[] t = new long[3];
implMulwAcc(c0, d0, t, 0);
implMulwAcc(c1, d1, t, 1);
long t0 = t[0], t1 = t[1], t2 = t[2];
zz[2] ^= t0;
zz[3] ^= t0 ^ t1;
zz[4] ^= t2 ^ t1;
zz[5] ^= t2;
}
implCompactExt(zz);
}
protected static void implMulwAcc(long x, long y, long[] z, int zOff)
{
// assert x >>> 49 == 0;
// assert y >>> 49 == 0;
long[] u = new long[8];
// u[0] = 0;
u[1] = y;
u[2] = u[1] << 1;
u[3] = u[2] ^ y;
u[4] = u[2] << 1;
u[5] = u[4] ^ y;
u[6] = u[3] << 1;
u[7] = u[6] ^ y;
int j = (int)x;
long g, h = 0, l = u[j & 7]
^ (u[(j >>> 3) & 7] << 3);
int k = 36;
do
{
j = (int)(x >>> k);
g = u[j & 7]
^ u[(j >>> 3) & 7] << 3
^ u[(j >>> 6) & 7] << 6
^ u[(j >>> 9) & 7] << 9
^ u[(j >>> 12) & 7] << 12;
l ^= (g << k);
h ^= (g >>> -k);
}
while ((k -= 15) > 0);
// assert h >>> 33 == 0;
z[zOff ] ^= l & M49;
z[zOff + 1] ^= (l >>> 49) ^ (h << 15);
}
protected static void implSquare(long[] x, long[] zz)
{
Interleave.expand64To128(x[0], zz, 0);
Interleave.expand64To128(x[1], zz, 2);
Interleave.expand64To128(x[2], zz, 4);
zz[6] = (x[3] & M01);
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
Document: LeBron James is being dropped off a building. And his jerseys, at least the ones not on fire, are almost being given away. Workers began dismantling the 10-story-tall iconic image of James on a mural in downtown Cleveland on Saturday.
Workmen remove a large mural of NBA basketball star LeBron James from a building in downtown Cleveland on Saturday, July 10, 2010. James, who played seven years for the Cleveland Cavaliers, signed with... (Associated Press)
A driver in downtown Cleveland,OH, shows his feelings about LeBron James leaving the Cleveland Cavaliers to play for the Miami Heat, Friday, July 9, 2010. The iconic image of James with his arms extended... (Associated Press)
Leonard Ramsey photographs workmen removing the large mural of NBA basketball player LeBron James rom a building in downtown Cleveland Saturday, July 10, 2010. James, who played seven years for the Cleveland... (Associated Press)
Passersby stop to take photos of workmen removing a large mural of NBA basketball star LeBron James in downtown Cleveland Saturday, July 10, 2010. James, who played seven years for the Cleveland Cavaliers,... (Associated Press)
The billboard has dominated the city's skyline for years but is being removed after the superstar announced he was leaving the Cavaliers for the Miami Heat.
As strips of the image of James, his arms outstretched and head thrown back after doing his pregame powder toss, began coming off, pedestrians stopped on Ontario Street to take photos and cars pulled to the side for one last look at No. 23, who has gone from being a hometown hero to villain.
"We are removing the LeBron James Witness mural in downtown Cleveland and expect the process to be completed within a few days," Nike spokesman KeJuan Wilkins said in an e-mail to The Associated Press.
Wilkins said he does not yet know what the company's plans are with the gigantic sign, which includes the phrase: "We Are All Witnesses" over James' image.
On Friday, several fans gathered on the sidewalk outside the Landmark Office Tower as workers prepared to remove the billboard.
"My mom wanted us to get a picture of it before they brought it down," said Kayla Mack of Norwalk, Ohio. "It's very bittersweet."
After James announced his decision to leave Cleveland as a free agent Thursday night, some irate Cavs fans feeling betrayed by the Akron native they've cheered for since he was a teenager, burned the two-time MVP's jersey. Others hurled rocks at the mural, which towers over the corners of Ontario and Prospect avenues _ a long 3-pointer from Quicken Loans Arena, home of the Cavaliers.
Elsewhere, James jerseys, so fashionable during his seven-year stay, can be found at discounted rates as merchants look to get rid of their inventories of Cleveland's career scoring leader and arguably the most celebrated pro athlete in the city's history.
At Dick's Sporting Goods in Westlake, James jerseys have been reduced to $29.99 with the store offering a further 75 percent reduction. T-shirts and other merchandise with James' face or number on it are also at bargain prices.
Businesses are also offering perks in exchange for James' jersey. At McNulty's Bier Market in Ohio City, anyone turning in a James jersey or T-shirt got a free beer. Anyone with a T-shirt, hat or tattoo featuring another Cleveland sports star got a free second round.
In addition, Fathead.com, an online retailer owned by Cavs owner Dan Gilbert dropped the price of its LeBron Fathead wall decals from $99.99 to $17.41, which happens to be the same year Revolutionary War traitor Benedict Arnold was born.
Following James' announcement to join fellow free-agent stars Dwyane Wade and Chris Bosh in Miami, Gilbert posted letter to Cleveland fans, ripping James for "a several-day narcissistic, self-promotional buildup culminating with a national TV special of the decision unlike anything ever 'witnessed' in the history of sports and probably the history of entertainment."
Later, in an interview with the AP, Gilbert accused James of quitting in the playoffs the past two seasons.
"LeBron James needs to go to another team with two superstars already so he can win a championship," Gilbert said. "We will win a championship before (the Heat) do. ... It's not about him leaving. It's the disrespect. It's time for people to hold these athletes accountable for their actions. Is this the way you raise your children? I've been holding this all in for a long time." ||||| Print Share + Ohio Workers Take Down LeBron James' Nike Ad
MIAMI (CBS4) ―
While South Floridians are still riding high on the news that LeBron James will play for the Miami Heat, the mood was less than upbeat in Cleveland where workers began dismantling a 10-story-tall iconic image of James on a Nike ad.The ad, which has appeared in various forms over the past three years, appeared in downtown Cleveland and had been part of the city's skyline and has always featured LeBron James.But his move to Miami means he's no longer a Cavaliers player and workers stripped down slices from images that depicted him with his arms stretched out and head thrown back in his signature pregame powder toss.Many pulled over to take one last snapshot of the former Cavaliers player who sported No. 23. Many have also vilified him for leaving his hometown.Workers are expected to work through much of the day Saturday removing his image from the Landmark Office Tower.
(© 2010 CBS Broadcasting Inc. All Rights Reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten, or redistributed. The Associated Press contributed to this report.)
Summary: – Cleveland is moving on with life: Workers today began removing an enormous mural of LeBron James from a downtown building, reports CBS4. The Nike ad is 10 stories tall and has been a fixture of the Cleveland skyline for a few years. It's so big that workers will spend all of today on the job and may not finish. "We are removing the LeBron James Witness mural in downtown Cleveland and expect the process to be completed within a few days," a Nike spokesman tells AP.
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Passage 1:
Eddie Money
Edward Joseph Mahoney( March 21, 1949 – September 13, 2019), known professionally as Eddie Money, was an American rock singer and songwriter who had success in the 1970s and 1980s with 11 Top 40 songs including" Baby Hold OnTwo Tickets to ParadiseThink I'm in LoveShakin' Take Me Home Tonight I Wanna Go BackWalk on Water", and" The Love in Your Eyes". Money was known as a working- class rocker with a husky voice. In 1987, he was nominated for a Grammy Award for Best Male Rock Vocal Performance for" Take Me Home Tonight".
Passage 2:
Take Me Home, Country Roads
" Take Me Home, Country Roads", also known as" Take Me Home" or" Country Roads", is a song written by Bill Danoff, Taffy Nivert, and John Denver about West Virginia. It was released as a single performed by Denver on April 12, 1971, peaking at number 2 on" Billboard" s US Hot 100 singles for the week ending August 28, 1971. The song was a success on its initial release and was certified Gold by the RIAA on August 18, 1971, and Platinum on April 10, 2017. The song became one of John Denver's most popular and beloved songs. It has continued to sell, with over 1.5 million digital copies sold in the United States. It is considered to be Denver's signature song. The song has a prominent status as an iconic symbol of West Virginia, which it describes as" almost Heaven". In March 2014, it became one of the four official state anthems of West Virginia.
Passage 3:
Bernie Bonvoisin
Bernard Bonvoisin, known as Bernie Bonvoisin( born 9 July 1956 in Nanterre, Hauts- de- Seine), is a French hard rock singer and film director. He is best known for having been the singer of Trust. He was one of the best friends of Bon Scott the singer of AC/ DC and together they recorded the song" Ride On" which was one of the last songs by Bon Scott.
Passage 4:
Billy Milano
Billy Milano is a Bronx- born heavy metal musician now based in Austin, Texas. He is the singer and- occasionally- guitarist and bassist of crossover thrash band M.O.D., and he was also the singer of its predecessor, Stormtroopers of Death. He was also the singer of United Forces, which also featured his Stormtroopers of Death bandmate Dan Lilker.
Passage 5:
Take Me Home (Cher song)
" Take Me Home" is a song recorded by American singer and actress Cher for her 1979 fifteenth studio album of the same name. A disco song, it was conceived after Cher was recommended to venture into said genre, after the commercial failure of her previous albums. The lyrics center around the request of a woman to be taken home by her lover. It was released as the lead single from the" Take Me Home" album in January 1979 through Casablanca Records, pressed as a 12- inch single. Music critics gave positive reviews of" Take Me Home", who highlighted its sound and melody. The single fared well in the United States charts, peaking at number eight on the" Billboard" Hot 100 and entering three of its component charts. In Oceania, it entered the singles chart of New Zealand at number 49. It was also a hit in Canada, reaching the top- ten of the singles chart. In 2001, English singer Sophie Ellis- Bextor covered the song for her debut studio album" Read My Lips". It served as her debut solo single after being signed by Polydor Records. Her version contains new lyrics and a disco-tinged instrumental, and elicited a mostly positive response from critics; it also enjoyed commercial success. However, Cher was reportedly critical of this version, finding its lyrics too overtly sexual.
Passage 6:
Christine Evans
Christine Evans( born May 25, 1990) is a Canadian singer- songwriter from Victoria, British Columbia. Her debut single," Take Me HomeTime for Me" was released in 2004 and her debut album," Take Me Home" followed on January 25, 2005 by Warner Music Canada.
Passage 7:
Find Me a Home
" Find Me a Home" is a song by British singer and songwriter Natalie Duncan released from her debut album" Devil In Me". The single was released on 14 September 2012 as a digital download. The song was also included in Duncan's" Find Me a Home" EP.
Passage 8:
Celebrate Me Home (song)
" Celebrate Me Home" is a song written by Bob James and Kenny Loggins, and recorded by Loggins as the title track of his 1977 debut solo album" Celebrate Me Home".
Passage 9:
George Jones
George Glenn Jones (September 12, 1931 – April 26, 2013) was an American musician, singer and songwriter. He achieved international fame for his long list of hit records, including his best-known song " He Stopped Loving Her Today", as well as his distinctive voice and phrasing. For the last twenty years of his life, Jones was frequently referred to as the greatest living country singer. Country music scholar Bill Malone writes, "For the two or three minutes consumed by a song, Jones immerses himself so completely in its lyrics, and in the mood it conveys, that the listener can scarcely avoid becoming similarly involved." Waylon Jennings expressed a similar opinion in his song " It's AlrightIf we all could sound like we wanted to, we'd all sound like George Jones. " The shape of his nose and facial features earned Jones the nickname "The Possum". Born in Texas, Jones first heard country music when he was seven and was given a guitar at the age of nine. He married his first wife, Dorothy Bonvillion, in 1950, and was divorced in 1951. He served in the United States Marine Corps and was discharged in 1953. He married Shirley Ann Corley in 1954. In 1959, Jones recorded "White Lightning", written by J. P. Richardson, which launched his career as a singer. His second marriage ended in divorce in 1968; he married fellow country music singer Tammy Wynette a year later. Years of alcoholism compromised his health and led to his missing many performances, earning him the nickname "No Show Jones". After his divorce from Wynette in 1975, Jones married his fourth wife, Nancy Sepulvado, in 1983 and became sober for good in 1999. Jones died in 2013, aged 81, from hypoxic respiratory failure. During his career, Jones had more than 150 hits, both as a solo artist and in duets with other artists. Robert Christgau has called him "honky-tonk's greatest honky".
Passage 10:
Mama Take Me Home
"Mama Take Me Home" is a song by Country Music Singer George Jones, released in the early 1970s. Country singer Charlie Rich covered the song in 1973.
Question: Why did the performer of song Mama Take Me Home die?
Answer: Respiratory Failure
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Passage 1:
Valentino (fashion designer)
Valentino Clemente Ludovico Garavani (born 11 May 1932), best known as Valentino, is an Italian fashion designer and founder of the Valentino SpA brand and company. His main lines include Valentino, Valentino Garavani, Valentino Roma, and R.E.D. Valentino.
Passage 2:
Valentino SpA
Valentino SpA is a clothing company founded in 1960 by Valentino Garavani. It is a part of Valentino Fashion Group, which in turn is owned by the State of Qatar through Mayhoola for Investments S.P.C. Since October 2008, the creative director is Pier Paolo Piccioli. Alessandra Facchinetti was Valentino's creative designer from 2007 to 2008. Valentino is headquartered in Milan,while the creative direction is in Rome.
Passage 3:
Carmen Kass
Carmen Kass (born 14 September 1978) is an Estonian model and former political candidate. Considered a supermodel within the fashion industry, she has worked as the face of Versace, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci, Valentino, Chanel, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren, Dior, Narciso Rodriguez, Givenchy, and, for ten consecutive years, Michael Kors. In the year 2002, she was estimated to have been the second-highest-paid model in the world.
Passage 4:
Amber Valletta
Amber Evangeline Valletta (born February 9, 1974) is an American fashion model and actress. She began her career as a fashion model, landing her first of sixteen American "Vogue" covers at age eighteen. During the 1990s, Valletta reached the status of supermodel, working as the face of Giorgio Armani, Chanel, Louis Vuitton, Prada, Valentino, Gucci and Versace, and signing multimillion-dollar cosmetics contracts with Calvin Klein and Elizabeth Arden. From 1995 to 1996, Valletta and her friend and fellow model Shalom Harlow hosted the MTV show, "House of Style".
Passage 5:
Angela Lindvall
Angela Lindvall (born January 14, 1979) is an American supermodel and actress. Lindvall was discovered by an IMG scout when she was 14 years old, and immediately signed with IMG New York. But she took a break from modeling and returned when she was 17 years old. She featured on the cover of Italian Vogue in 1997, photographed by Steven Meisel. She has been featured on so many top magazine covers in the late 1990s and the early 2000s, such as Vogue, Elle, Harper's Bazaar, Maria Claire, Numero, W, i-D, V and so on. And during the peak of her long career, she is always the world's top designers' favourite, such as Karl Lagerfeld, Miuccia Prada, Stella McCartney. She was Prada Girl and Chanel Girl. She has worked as the face of Chanel, Gucci, Valentino, Prada, Calvin Klein, Miu Miu, Dior, Louis Vuitton, Hermes, Versace, DKNY, Roberto Cavalli, Fendi, Chole, Missoni, Jil Sander, Jimmy Choo. As an actress, she has appeared in several films, including "CQ" in 2001 and "Kiss Kiss Bang Bang" in 2005 and "Small Apartments" in 2010. She was the host of the fashion reality series "Project Runway: All Stars", an extension of the popular series "Project Runway".
Passage 6:
Tim Clemente
Timothy G. Clemente (born October 18, 1960) is an American counter-terrorism expert who has worked as an FBI Special Agent and SWAT team member in Europe, the Middle East, and Africa. He also ran a cover joint operation with the Department of Energy's National Emergency Support Team, which was tasked with protecting the U.S. from attack by rogue nuclear weapons or other weapons of mass destruction. Clemente went undercover as a drug smuggler and took down members of the Cali Cartel working in narcotics and organized crime investigations in the U.S. and South America.
Passage 7:
Valentino: The Last Emperor
Valentino: The Last Emperor is a 2008 documentary film about the life of Valentino Garavani. It was produced and directed by Matt Tyrnauer, Special Correspondent for "Vanity Fair" magazine. The film is an exploration of the singular world of one of Italy's most famous men, Valentino Garavani. The film documents the dramatic closing act of Valentino's career, tells the story of his life, and explores the larger themes affecting the fashion business. At the heart of the film is the relationship between Valentino and his business partner and companion of 50 years, Giancarlo Giammetti.
Passage 8:
Ruby Aldridge
Ruby Rose Aldridge (born August 26, 1991) is an American fashion model and singer. Over the years of 2008-2012, Ruby Aldridge was the "face" of the brands Coach, Marc by Marc Jacobs, Valentino, and of ck one [Calvin Klein] cosmetics. During the 2011 fall fashion week, Aldridge opened four fashion shows, which placed her, at that time, 7th in terms of the number of these appearances in a given fashion week. As of this date, she has walked in nearly 200 fashion shows, including for such top designers as Alberta Ferretti, Missoni, Sonia Rykiel, Valentino, Dolce & Gabbana, Marc Jacobs, and others, and has appeared on the covers of "Harper's Bazaar", "L'Express Styles", and "L'Officiel", and in major magazine spreads in "The New York Times", "Vanity Fair", and in the "Vogue" editions of several countries (e.g., Italy, the U.S., China, Russia, and Latin America). Ruby Aldridge is the daughter of former Playboy playmate Laura Lyons and artist and graphic designer Alan Aldridge, and younger sister of fashion model Lily Aldridge.
Passage 9:
Oriol Elcacho
Oriol Elcacho is a Spanish male model from Barcelona. He is perhaps best known for being the face of BVLGARI's AQVA. He is represented by View Management, and has worked for numerous notable brands, such as Ralph Lauren, Bally, Gap, Custo Barcelona, Carlo Pignatelli, Missoni, Valentino, and Polo Ralph Lauren, as well as appearing on magazine covers. He is referred to as the "Spanish Adonis". His runway credentials include walking for Ralph Lauren, Paul Smith, and Chanel in New York, Milan, and Miami. Currently he ranks No. 12 on MODELS.COM's Top 25 list, ""The Money Guys"" with fellow Spanish models Jon Kortajarena (No. 7) and Andres Velencoso (No. 16).
Passage 10:
Josh Beech
Josh Beech (born 26 December 1986) is an English indie folk singer, songwriter, musician, and model. As a model, he is signed to major agencies across the world and has appeared in campaigns and shows for brands such as Givenchy, Burberry, Moschino, Valentino, John Galliano, Tommy Hilfiger, and more. He has also been featured on the cover of Vogue Hommes International, as well as in editorials for i-D Magazine, GQ Italy, Vogue Italia, and Dazed & Confused Magazine.
Question: What magazine had a model on the cover who worked as the face of a company founded by Valentino Clemente Ludovico Garavani?
Answer: Vogue
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Document: Under A-76, commercial activities may be converted to or from contractor performance either by direct conversion or by cost comparison. Under direct conversion, specific conditions allow commercial activities to be moved from government or contract performance without a cost comparison study (for example, for activities involving 10 or fewer civilians). Generally, however, commercial functions are to be converted to or from contract performance by cost comparison, whereby the estimated cost of government performance of a commercial activity is compared to the cost of contractor performance in accordance with the principles and procedures set forth in Circular A-76 and the revised supplemental handbook. As part of this process, the government identifies the work to be performed (described in the performance work statement), prepares an in-house cost estimate based on its most efficient organization, and compares it with the winning offer from the private sector. According to A-76 guidance, an activity currently performed in-house is converted to performance by the private sector if the private sector offer is either 10 percent lower than the direct personnel costs of the in-house cost estimate or is $10 million less (over the performance period) than the in-house cost estimate. OMB established this minimum cost differential to ensure that the government would not convert performance for marginal savings. The handbook also provides an administrative appeals process. An eligible appellant must submit an appeal to the agency in writing within 20 days of the date that all supporting documentation is made publicly available. Appeals are supposed to be adjudicated within 30 days after they are received. Private sector offerors who believe that the agency has not complied with applicable procedures have additional avenues of appeal. They may file a bid protest with the General Accounting Office or file an action in a court of competent jurisdiction. Circular A-76 requires agencies to maintain annual inventories of commercial activities performed in-house. A similar requirement was included in the 1998 FAIR Act, which directs agencies to develop annual inventories of their positions that are not inherently governmental. The fiscal year 2000 inventory identified approximately 850,000 full-time equivalent commercial-type positions, of which approximately 450,000 were in DOD. OMB has not yet released DOD’s inventory for 2001. DOD has been the leader among federal agencies in recent years in its use of OMB Circular A-76, with very limited use occurring in other agencies. However, in 2001, OMB signaled its intention to direct greater use of the circular on a government-wide basis. In a March 9, 2001, memorandum to the heads and acting heads of departments and agencies, the OMB Deputy Director directed agencies to take action in fiscal year 2002 to directly convert or complete public-private competitions of not less than 5 percent of the full-time equivalent positions listed in their FAIR Act inventories. Subsequent guidance expanded the requirement by 10 percent in 2003, with the ultimate goal of competing at least 50 percent. In 1999, DOD began to augment its A-76 program with what it terms strategic sourcing. Strategic sourcing may encompass consolidation, restructuring, or reengineering activities; privatization; joint ventures with the private sector; or the termination of obsolete services. Strategic sourcing can involve functions or activities regardless of whether they are considered inherently governmental, military essential, or commercial. I should add that these actions are recognized in the introduction to the A-76 handbook as being part of a larger body of options, in addition to A-76, that agencies must consider as they contemplate reinventing government operations. Strategic sourcing initially does not involve A-76 competitions between the public and the private sector, and the Office of the Secretary of Defense and service officials have stressed that strategic sourcing may provide smarter decisions because it determines whether an activity should be performed before deciding who should perform it. However, these officials also emphasized that strategic sourcing is not intended to take the place of A-76 studies and that positions examined under the broader umbrella of strategic sourcing may be subsequently considered for study under A-76. After several years of limited use of Circular A-76, the deputy secretary of defense gave renewed emphasis to the A-76 program in August 1995 when he directed the services to make outsourcing of support activities a priority in an effort to reduce operating costs and free up funds to meet other priority needs. The effort was subsequently incorporated as a major initiative under the then secretary’s Defense Reform Initiative, and the program became known as competitive sourcing—in recognition of the fact that either the public or the private sector could win competitions. A-76 goals for the number of positions to be studied have changed over time, and out-year study targets are fewer than in previous years. However, future study targets could be impacted by the current administration’s emphasis on reliance on the private sector for commercial activities. The number of positions planned for study and the timeframes for accomplishing those studies have changed over time in response to difficulties in identifying activities to be studied. In 1997, DOD’s plans called for about 171,000 positions to be studied by the end of fiscal year 2003. In February 1999, we reported that DOD had increased this number to 229,000 but had reduced the number of positions to be studied in the initial years of the program. In August 2000, DOD decreased the number of positions to be studied under A-76 to about 203,000, added about 42,000 Navy positions for consideration under strategic sourcing, and extended the program to fiscal year 2005. Last year we noted that DOD had reduced the planned number to study to approximately 160,000 positions under an expanded time frame extending from 1997 to 2007. It also planned to study about 120,000 positions under strategic sourcing during that timeframe. More recently, DOD officials told us that the A-76 study goal for fiscal years 1997-2007 is now approximately 183,000 positions—135,000 between fiscal years 1997-2001, and 48,000 between fiscal years 2002-2007. It projects that it will study approximately 144,000 positions under strategic sourcing. To what extent the A-76 study goals are likely to change in the future could be a function of changes in inventories of commercial activities and continuing management emphasis on competitive sourcing. Although DOD’s fiscal year 2001 inventory of commercial activities has not been publicly released, we have noted some reductions between previous inventories as the department has gained experience in completing them. In reporting on our analysis of DOD’s initial FAIR Act inventory, we cited the need for more consistency in identifying commercial activities. We found that the military services and defense agencies did not always consistently categorize similar activities. We have not had an opportunity to analyze more recent inventories to determine to what extent improved guidance may have helped to increase consistency in categorizing activities. At the same time, we also previously reported that a number of factors could reduce the number of additional functions studied under A-76. For example, we noted that factors such as geographic dispersion of positions and the inability to separate commercial activities from inherently governmental activities could limit the number of inventory positions studied. Likewise, the inventory already makes provision for reducing the number of positions eligible for competition such as where performance by federal employees was needed because of national security or operational risk concerns. On the other hand, The President’s Management Agenda, Fiscal Year 2002, notes “Agencies are developing specific performance plans to meet the 2002 goal of completing public-private or direct conversion competition on not less than five percent of the full-time equivalent employees listed on the FAIR Act inventories. The performance target will increase by 10 percent in 2003.” Additionally, DOD’s Quadrennial Defense Review Report, September 30, 2001, states that the department should “Focus DOD ‘owned’ resources on excellence in those areas that contribute directly to warfighting. Only those functions that must be performed by DOD should be kept by DOD. Any function that can be provided by the private sector is not a core government function. Traditionally, ‘core’ has been very loosely and imprecisely defined and too often used as a way of protecting existing arrangements.” We have not assessed to what extent efforts in this area are likely to strengthen emphasis on A-76. As we tracked DOD’s progress in implementing its A-76 program since the mid-to late-1990s, we identified a number of challenges and concerns that have surrounded the program—issues that other agencies may encounter as they seek to respond to the administration’s emphasis on competitive sourcing. They include (1) the time required to complete the studies, (2) cost and resources to conduct and implement the studies, (3) selecting and grouping positions to compete, and (4) developing and maintaining reliable estimates of projected savings expected from the competitions. These need not be reasons to avoid A-76 studies but are factors that need to be taken into consideration in planning for the studies. Individual A-76 studies in DOD have taken longer than initially projected. In launching its A-76 program, some DOD components made overly optimistic assumptions about the amount of time needed to complete the competitions. For example, the Army initially projected that it would take 13 to 21 months to complete studies, depending on their size. The Navy initially projected completing its studies in 12 months. The numbers were subsequently adjusted upward, and the most recent available data indicate that the studies take on average about 22 months for single-function and 31 months for multifunction studies. Agencies need to keep these timeframes in mind when projecting resources required to support the studies and timeframes for when savings are expected to be realized—and may need to revisit these projections as they gain experience under the program. Once DOD components found that the studies were taking longer than initially projected, they realized that a greater investment of resources would be needed than originally planned to conduct the studies. For example, the 2001 president’s budget showed a wide range of projected study costs, from about $1,300 per position studied in the Army to about $3,700 in the Navy. Yet, various officials expressed concern that these figures underestimated the costs of performing the studies. While the costs they cited varied, some ranged up to several thousand dollars per position. One factor raising costs was the extent to which the services used contractors to facilitate completion of the studies. Given differences in experience levels between DOD and other agencies in conducting A-76 studies, these other agencies may need to devote greater resources to training or otherwise obtaining outside assistance in completing their studies. In addition to study costs, significant costs can be incurred in implementing the results of the competitions. Transition costs include the separation costs for civilian employees who lose their jobs as a result of competitions won by the private sector or when in-house organizations require a smaller civilian workforce. Such separation costs include the costs of voluntary early retirement, voluntary separation incentives, and involuntary separations through reduction-in-force procedures. Initially, we found that DOD budget documents had not fully accounted for such costs in estimating savings that were likely to result from their A-76 studies. More recently, we found that the Department had improved its inclusion of study and transition costs in its budget documents. Selecting and grouping functions and positions to compete can be difficult. Because most services faced growing difficulties in or resistance to finding enough study candidates to meet their A-76 study goals, the goals and time frames for completing studies changed over time; and DOD ultimately approved strategic sourcing as a way to complement its A-76 program and help achieve its savings goals. Guidelines implementing the FAIR Act permit agencies to exclude certain commercial activities from being deemed eligible for competition such as patient care in government hospitals. Additionally, as experienced by DOD, factors such as geographic dispersion of positions and the inability to separate commercial activities from inherently governmental activities could limit the number of inventory positions studied. It becomes important to consider such factors in determining what portions of the FAIR inventories are expected to be subject to competition. Considerable questions have been raised concerning to what extent DOD has realized savings from its A-76 studies. In part, these concerns were exacerbated by the lack of a reliable system for capturing initial net savings estimates and updating them as needed and by other difficulties associated with the lack of precision often associated with savings estimates. Our work has shown that while significant savings are being achieved by DOD’s A-76 program, it has been difficult to determine precisely the magnitude of those savings. Savings may be limited in the short-term because up-front investment costs associated with conducting and implementing the studies must be absorbed before long-term savings begin to accrue. Several of our reports in recent years have highlighted these issues. For example, we reported in March 2001 that A-76 competitions had reduced estimated costs of Defense activities primarily by reducing the number of positions needed to perform those activities under study. This is true regardless of whether the government’s in-house organization or the private sector wins the competition. Both government and private sector officials with experience in such studies have stated that, in order to be successful in an A-76 competition, they must seek to reduce the number of positions required to perform the function being studied. Related actions may include restructuring and reclassifying positions and using multiskill and multirole employees to complete required tasks. In December 2000, we reported on DOD’s savings estimates from a number of completed A-76 studies. We noted that DOD had reported cost reductions of about 39 percent, yielding an estimated $290 million savings in fiscal year 1999. We also agreed that individual A-76 studies were producing savings but stressed difficulty in quantifying the savings precisely for a number of reasons: Because of an initial lack of DOD guidance on calculating costs, baseline costs were sometimes calculated on the basis of average salaries and authorized personnel levels rather than on actual numbers. DOD’s savings estimates did not take into consideration the costs of conducting the studies and implementing the results, which of course must be offset before net savings begin to accrue. There were significant limitations in the database DOD used to calculate savings. Savings become more difficult to assess over time as workload requirements or missions change, affecting program costs and the baseline from which savings were initially calculated. Our August 2000 report assessed the extent to which there were cost savings from nine A-76 studies conducted by DOD activities. The data showed that DOD realized savings from seven of the cases, but overall less than Defense components had initially projected. Each of the cases presented unique circumstances that limited our ability to precisely calculate savings. Some suggested lower savings. Others suggested higher savings than initially identified. In two cases, DOD components had included cost reductions unrelated to the A-76 studies as part of their projected savings. Additionally, baseline cost estimates used to project savings were usually calculated using an average cost of salary and benefits for the number of authorized positions, rather than the actual costs of the positions. The latter calculation would have been more precise. In four of the nine cases, actual personnel levels were less than authorized. While most baseline costs estimates were based largely on personnel costs, up to 15 percent of the costs associated with the government’s most efficient organizations’ plans or the contractors’ offers were not personnel costs. Because these types of costs were not included in the baseline, a comparison of the baseline with the government’s most efficient organization or contractor costs may have resulted in understating cost savings. On the other hand, savings estimates did not reflect study and implementation costs, which reduced savings in the short term. DOD has revised its information systems to better track the estimated and actual costs of activities studied but not to revise previous savings estimates. DOD is also emphasizing the development of standardized baseline cost data to determine initial savings estimates. In practice, however, many of the cost elements that are used in A-76 studies will continue to be estimated because DOD lacks a cost accounting system to measure actual costs. Further, reported savings from A-76 studies will continue to have some element of uncertainty and imprecision and will be difficult to track in the out-years because workload requirements and missions change, affecting program costs and the baseline from which savings are calculated. Although comprising a relatively small portion of the government’s overall service contracting activity, competitive sourcing under Circular A-76 has been the subject of much controversy because of concerns about the process raised both by the public and private sectors. Federal managers and others have been concerned about organizational turbulence that typically follows the announcement of A-76 studies. Government workers have been concerned about the impact of competition on their jobs, their opportunity for input into the competitive process, and the lack of parity with industry offerors to protest A-76 decisions. Industry representatives have complained about the fairness of the process and the lack of a “level playing field” between the government and the private sector in accounting for costs. Concerns also have been registered about the adequacy of oversight of the competition winners’ subsequent performance, whether won by the public or private sector. Amid these concerns over the A-76 process, the Congress enacted section 832 of the National Defense Authorization Act for Fiscal Year 2001. The legislation required the comptroller general to convene a panel of experts to study the policies and procedures governing the transfer of commercial activities for the federal government from government to contractor personnel. The panel, which Comptroller General David M. Walker chairs, includes senior officials from DOD, OMB, the Office of Personnel Management, private industry, federal labor organizations, and academia. The Commercial Activities Panel, as it is known, is required to report its findings and recommendations to the Congress by May 1, 2002. The panel had its first meeting on May 8, 2001, at which time it adopted a mission statement calling for improving the current framework and processes so that they reflect a balance among taxpayer interests, government needs, employee rights, and contractor concerns. Subsequently, the panel held three public hearings. At the first hearing on June 11, in Washington, D.C., over 40 individuals representing a wide spectrum of perspectives presented their views. The panel subsequently held two additional hearings, on August 8 in Indianapolis, Indiana, and on August 15 in San Antonio, Texas. The hearing in San Antonio specifically addressed OMB Circular A-76, focusing on what works and what does not in the use of that process. The hearing in Indianapolis explored various alternatives to the use of A-76 in making sourcing decisions at the federal, and local levels. Since completion of the field hearings, the panel members have met in executive session several times, augmented between meetings by work of staff to help them (1) gather background information on sourcing trends and challenges, (2) identify sourcing principles and criteria, (3) consider A-76 and other sourcing processes to assess what’s working and what’s not, and (4) assess alternatives to the current sourcing processes. Panel deliberations continue with the goal of meeting the May 1 date for a report to the Congress. This concludes my statement. I would be pleased to answer any questions you or other members of the committee may have at this time. Contacts and Acknowledgment For further contacts regarding this statement, please contact Barry W. Holman at (202) 512-8412 or Marilyn Wasleski at (202) 512-8436. Other individuals making key contributions to this statement include Debra McKinney, Donald Bumgardner, Jane Hunt, Nancy Lively, Stephanie May, and Judith Williams. DOD Competitive Sourcing: A-76 Program Has Been Augmented by Broader Reinvention Options. GAO-01-907T. Washington, D.C.: June 28, 2001. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Effects of A-76 Studies on Federal Employees’ Employment, Pay, and Benefits Vary. GAO-01-388. Washington, D.C.: March 16, 2001. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Results of A-76 Studies Over the Past 5 Years. GAO-01-20. Washington, D.C.: December 7, 2000. DOD Competitive Sourcing: More Consistency Needed in Identifying Commercial Activities. GAO/NSIAD-00-198. Washington, D.C.: August 11, 2000. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Savings Are Occurring, but Actions Are Needed to Improve Accuracy of Savings Estimates. GAO/NSIAD-00-107. Washington, D.C.: August 8, 2000. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Some Progress, but Continuing Challenges Remain in Meeting Program Goals. GAO/NSIAD-00-106. Washington, D.C.: August 8, 2000. Competitive Contracting: The Understandability of FAIR Act Inventories Was Limited. GAO/GGD-00-68. Washington, D.C.: April 14, 2000. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Potential Impact on Emergency Response Operations at Chemical Storage Facilities Is Minimal. GAO/NSIAD-00-88. Washington, D.C.: March 28, 2000. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Plan Needed to Mitigate Risks in Army Logistics Modernization Program. GAO/NSIAD-00-19. Washington, D.C.: October 4, 1999. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Air Force Reserve Command A-76 Competitions. GAO/NSIAD-99-235R. Washington, D.C.: September 13, 1999. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Lessons Learned System Could Enhance A-76 Study Process. GAO/NSIAD-99-152. Washington, D.C.: July 21, 1999. Defense Reform Initiative: Organization, Status, and Challenges. GAO/NSIAD-99-87. Washington, D.C.: April 21, 1999. Quadrennial Defense Review: Status of Efforts to Implement Personnel Reductions in the Army Materiel Command. GAO/NSIAD-99-123. Washington, D.C.: March 31, 1999. Defense Reform Initiative: Progress, Opportunities, and Challenges. GAO/T-NSIAD-99-95. Washington, D.C.: March 2, 1999. Force Structure: A-76 Not Applicable to Air Force 38th Engineering Installation Wing Plan. GAO/NSIAD-99-73. Washington, D.C.: February 26, 1999. Future Years Defense Program: How Savings From Reform Initiatives Affect DOD’s 1999-2003 Program. GAO/NSIAD-99-66. Washington, D.C.: February 25, 1999. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Results of Recent Competitions. GAO/NSIAD-99-44. Washington, D.C.: February 23, 1999. DOD Competitive Sourcing: Questions About Goals, Pace, and Risks of Key Reform Initiative. GAO/NSIAD-99-46. Washington, D.C.: February 22, 1999. OMB Circular A-76: Oversight and Implementation Issues. GAO/T-GGD-98-146. Washington, D.C.: June 4, 1998. Quadrennial Defense Review: Some Personnel Cuts and Associated Savings May Not Be Achieved. GAO/NSIAD-98-100. Washington, D.C.: April 30, 1998. Competitive Contracting: Information Related to the Redrafts of the Freedom From Government Competition Act. GAO/GGD/NSIAD-98-167R. Washington, D.C.: April 27, 1998. Defense Outsourcing: Impact on Navy Sea-Shore Rotations. GAO/NSIAD-98-107. Washington, D.C.: April 21, 1998. Defense Infrastructure: Challenges Facing DOD in Implementing Defense Reform Initiatives. GAO/T-NSIAD-98-115. Washington, D.C.: March 18, 1998. Defense Management: Challenges Facing DOD in Implementing Defense Reform Initiatives. GAO/T-NSIAD/AIMD-98-122. Washington, D.C.: March 13, 1998.
Summary: The Department of Defense (DOD) has been at the forefront of federal agencies in using the OMB Circular A-76 process. In 1995, DOD made it a priority to reduce operating costs and free funds for other needs. DOD has also augmented the A-76 program with what it terms strategic sourcing--a broader array of reinvention and reengineering options that may not necessarily involve A-76 competitions. The number of positions--at one point 229,000--that DOD planned to study and the time frames for the studies have varied. Current plans are to study about 183,000 positions between fiscal years 1997 and 2007. Changes in the inventory of commercial activities and the current administration's sourcing initiatives could change the number of positions studied in the future. However, GAO has not evaluated the extent to which these changes might occur. DOD's A-76 program has faced several challenges that may provide valuable lessons learned for other federal agencies. These lessons include the following: (1) studies took longer than initially projected, (2) costs and resources required for the studies were underestimated, (3) selecting and grouping functions to compete can be difficult, and (4) determining and maintaining reliable estimates of savings were difficult. The Commercial Activities Panel is studying and has held public hearings about the policies and procedures, including the A-76 process, and the transfer of commercial activities from government personnel to contractors. The panel, comprised of federal and private sector experts, is required to report its findings and recommendations to Congress by May 2002.
|
{
"task_name": "govreport_summarization"
}
|
Passage 1:
Sonia Greene
Sonia Haft Greene Lovecraft Davis (16 March 1883 - 26 December 1972) was a one-time pulp fiction writer and amateur publisher, a single mother, business woman and successful milliner who bankrolled several fanzines in the early twentieth century. She is best known for her two-year marriage to American weird fiction writer H. P. Lovecraft. She was a president of the United Amateur Press Association.
Passage 2:
The Celestial Plot
The Celestial Plot (Spanish: "La trama celeste" ) is a book by Adolfo Bioy Casares. It is a collection of short stories and includes a work with the same name.
Passage 3:
Octavia E. Butler
Octavia Estelle Butler (June 22, 1947February 24, 2006) was an American science fiction writer. A multiple recipient of both the Hugo and Nebula awards, in 1995 she became the first science fiction writer to receive the MacArthur Fellowship.
Passage 4:
Adolfo Bioy Casares
Adolfo Bioy Casares (] ; September 15, 1914 – March 8, 1999) was an Argentine fiction writer, journalist, and translator. He was a friend and frequent collaborator with his fellow countryman Jorge Luis Borges, and is the author of the fantastic fiction novel "The Invention of Morel".
Passage 5:
Taku Mayumura
Taku Mayumura (眉村 卓 "Mayumura Taku", 20 October 1934 - ) is a Japanese science fiction writer who won the Seiun Award for Novel twice. In 2004 his Shiseikan (司政官, one story of the Shiseikan series), written in 1974, was translated into English.. Mayumura is also a young adult fiction writer whose works have been adapted into TV drama, film, and anime.
Passage 6:
Arrowhead (science fiction venue)
Arrowhead is the name that science fiction writer James Blish and his wife, literary agent and science fiction writer Virginia Kidd, gave to their home in Milford, Pennsylvania. The Virginia Kidd Literary Agency has been operating continuously at Arrowhead since 1965.
Passage 7:
Donald Wandrei
Donald Albert Wandrei (April 20, 1908 – October 15, 1987) was an American science fiction, fantasy and weird fiction writer, poet and editor. He was the older brother of science fiction writer and artist Howard Wandrei. He had fourteen stories in "Weird Tales", another sixteen in "Astounding Stories", plus a few in other magazines including "Esquire". He was the co-founder (with August Derleth) of the prestigious fantasy/horror publishing house Arkham House.
Passage 8:
Megan Staffel
Megan Staffel (born 1952, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, USA) is an American fiction writer and essayist. She is the author of two novels, "The Notebook of Lost Things" and "She Wanted Something Else", and three story collections, "A Length of Wire and Other Stories", "Lessons In Another Language" and "The Exit Coach". Her story collection, "Lessons in Another Language," was awarded the 2011 IPPY AWARD for Bronze Medal Winner in the Short Story and the 2011 Foreword Review's "Book of the Year Award" for Silver Medal Winner in the Short Story. Her stories have appeared in numerous journals, including Ploughshares and New England Review. Her essays on the craft of fiction appear in "A Kite in the Wind," edited by Andrea Barrett and Peter Turchi, and "Letters to a Fiction Writer," edited by Frederick Busch. She teaches in the MFA Program for Writers at Warren Wilson College.
Passage 9:
Brian Plante
Brian Plante (born 1956) is an American science fiction writer. As of 2007, he had published 49 short stories. "Analog" magazine has published 16 of his stories and most of the recent ones. Plante has written several sarcastic essays on writing, including the "Chronicles of the Garden Valley Writers," an account of dynamics in a fiction writer criticism group. His non-fiction has appeared in "Manifest Destiny", "Fantastic Collectibles", and from 1995 to 1998 as a monthly column in "The New Jersey Graveline".
Passage 10:
Jim Aikin
James Douglas Aikin (born 1948) is an American science fiction writer based in Livermore, California. He is also a music technology writer, an interactive fiction writer, freelance editor and writer, cellist, and teacher. He frequently writes articles for various music industry magazines, including "Electronic Musician", "Keyboard Magazine", and "Mix".
Question: The Celestial Plot is a book by which the fiction writer of what nationality?
Answer: Argentine
|
{
"task_name": "hotpotqa"
}
|
__all__ = [
'schema_cp2k_general_settings', 'schema_derivative_couplings', 'schema_single_points',
'schema_distribute_absorption_spectrum',
'schema_distribute_derivative_couplings',
'schema_distribute_single_points',
'schema_absorption_spectrum']
from numbers import Real
from schema import (And, Optional, Or, Schema, Use)
import os
import pkg_resources as pkg
def merge(d1, d2):
"""
merge two dictionaries using without modifying the original
"""
x = d1.copy()
x.update(d2)
return x
schema_cp2k_general_settings = Schema({
# "Basis set to carry out the quantum chemistry simulation"
"basis": str,
# "Pseudo-potential to carry out the quantum chemistry simulation"
"potential": str,
# Charge of the system
Optional("charge", default=0): int,
# Multiplicity
Optional("multiplicity", default=1): int,
# Specify the Cartesian components for the cell vector
"cell_parameters": Or(
Real,
lambda xs: len(xs) == 3 and isinstance(xs, list),
lambda xs: len(xs) == 3 and all(len(r) == 3 for r in xs)),
# Type of periodicity
"periodic": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s in (
"none", "x", "y", "z", "xy", "xy", "yz", "xyz")),
# Specify the angles between the vectors defining the unit cell
Optional("cell_angles"): list,
# Path to the folder containing the basis set specifications
Optional("path_basis", default=pkg.resource_filename("nac", "basis")): os.path.isdir,
# Settings describing the input of the quantum package
"cp2k_settings_main": object,
# Settings describing the input of the quantum package
# to compute the guess wavefunction"
"cp2k_settings_guess": object,
# Restart File Name
Optional("wfn_restart_file_name", default=None): Or(str, None),
# File containing the Parameters of the cell if those
# parameters change during the MD simulation.
Optional("file_cell_parameters", default=None): Or(str, None),
# Quality of the auxiliar basis cFIT
Optional("aux_fit", default="verygood"): And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s in
("low", "medium", "good", "verygood", "excellent"))
})
dict_general_options = {
# Number of occupied/virtual orbitals to use
'active_space': And(list, lambda xs: len(xs) == 2),
# Index of the HOMO
Optional("nHOMO"): int,
# Index of the orbitals to compute the couplings
Optional("mo_index_range"): tuple,
# "default quantum package used"
Optional("package_name", default="cp2k"): str,
# project
Optional("project_name", default="namd"): str,
# Working directory
Optional("scratch_path", default=None): str,
# path to the HDF5 to store the results
Optional("path_hdf5", default="quantum.hdf5"): str,
# path to xyz trajectory of the Molecular dynamics
"path_traj_xyz": os.path.exists,
# Real from where to start enumerating the folders create for each point in the MD
Optional("enumerate_from", default=0): int,
# Ignore the warning issues by the quantum package and keep computing
Optional("ignore_warnings", default=False): bool,
# Calculate the guess wave function in either the first point of the trajectory or in all
Optional("calculate_guesses", default="first"):
And(str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s in ("first", "all")),
# Units of the molecular geometry on the MD file
Optional("geometry_units", default="angstrom"):
And(str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s in (
"angstrom", "au")),
# Integration time step used for the MD (femtoseconds)
Optional("dt", default=1): Real,
# General settings
"cp2k_general_settings": schema_cp2k_general_settings
}
dict_derivative_couplings = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "derivative_couplings"),
# Algorithm used to compute the derivative couplings
Optional("algorithm", default="levine"):
And(str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: ("levine", "3points")),
# Use MPI to compute the couplings
Optional("mpi", default=False): bool,
# Track the crossing between states
Optional("tracking", default=True): bool,
# Write the overlaps in ascii
Optional("write_overlaps", default=False): bool,
# Compute the overlap between molecular geometries using a dephase"
Optional("overlaps_deph", default=False): bool
}
dict_merged_derivative_couplings = merge(
dict_general_options, dict_derivative_couplings)
schema_derivative_couplings = Schema(
dict_merged_derivative_couplings)
schema_job_scheduler = Schema({
Optional("scheduler", default="SLURM"):
And(str, Use(str.upper), lambda s: ("SLURM", "PBS")),
Optional("nodes", default=1): int,
Optional("tasks", default=1): int,
Optional("wall_time", default="01:00:00"): str,
Optional("job_name", default="namd"): str,
Optional("queue_name", default="short"): str,
Optional("load_modules", default=""): str
})
dict_distribute = {
Optional("workdir", default=os.getcwd()): str,
# Number of chunks to split the trajectory
"blocks": int,
# Resource manager configuration
"job_scheduler": schema_job_scheduler,
# General settings
"cp2k_general_settings": schema_cp2k_general_settings,
}
dict_distribute_derivative_couplings = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "distribute_derivative_couplings")
}
schema_distribute_derivative_couplings = Schema(
merge(dict_distribute, merge(
dict_merged_derivative_couplings, dict_distribute_derivative_couplings)))
dict_absorption_spectrum = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "absorption_spectrum"),
# Type of TDDFT calculations. Available: sing_orb, stda, stddft
Optional("tddft", default="stda"): And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s in ("sing_orb", "stda", "stdft")),
# Interval between MD points where the oscillators are computed"
Optional("stride", default=1): int,
# description: Exchange-correlation functional used in the DFT calculations,
Optional("xc_dft", default="pbe"): str
}
dict_merged_absorption_spectrum = merge(
dict_general_options, dict_absorption_spectrum)
schema_absorption_spectrum = Schema(dict_merged_absorption_spectrum)
dict_distribute_absorption_spectrum = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "distribute_absorption_spectrum")
}
schema_distribute_absorption_spectrum = Schema(
merge(dict_distribute, merge(
dict_merged_absorption_spectrum, dict_distribute_absorption_spectrum)))
dict_single_points = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "single_points"),
# General settings
"cp2k_general_settings": schema_cp2k_general_settings
}
dict_distribute_single_points = {
# Name of the workflow to run
"workflow": And(
str, Use(str.lower), lambda s: s == "distribute_single_points")
}
dict_merged_single_points = merge(dict_general_options, dict_single_points)
schema_single_points = Schema(dict_merged_single_points)
schema_distribute_single_points = Schema(
merge(dict_distribute, merge(
dict_merged_single_points, dict_distribute_single_points)))
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
<html>
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<tr>
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<br>
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<tr align="center">
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</table>
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<a href="https://www.imsdb.com/all%20scripts">ALL SCRIPTS</a><br><br>
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<pre>
<b> POINT BREAK
</b>
by
James Cameron
<b> &
</b>
Kathryn Bigelow
From the Screenplay by
W. Peter Iliff
<b>FADE IN:
</b>
We are in the belly of a wave.
Light refracts in a constant collision of water.
SLOW MOTION, the hallucinatory prisms, like liquid
diamonds taking flight, dreamlike...
<b>EXT. OCEAN - DUSK
</b>
Backlit against a flaming sun a solitary SURFER glides
across the green glassy peak. TIME IS STRETCHED until his
movements gain a grace and fluidity not of this world.
Total Zen concentration. Body weight centered, eyes
forward and on the next section.
<b>EXT. URBAN STREET - DUSK
</b>
SLOW MOTION ON a black sedan.
Creeping along store fronts. Past a Winchell's.
PEOPLE splash steps down rain-washed sidewalks in DREAM
MOTION. The sedan turns past the FIRST VIRGINIA BANK and
into an alley.
<b>INT. BLACK SEDAN
</b>
TWO MEN and ONE WOMAN in SUSPENDED TIME put on overcoats
and hats. Under their hats strips of Scotch tape stretch
taut from the base of their nose to their forehead,
hideously distorting their features. Makes them look like
human PIGS.
<b>EXT. OCEAN
</b>
SILVERY in this light, almost metallic, as if from some
future-scape. The lone surfer SHREDS a long, endless
right wall.
ACCELERATING INTO REAL TIME -- as he stares into the pit,
digs in, drops into the sweet spot on the wave, hunkers
down.
His moves becoming aggressive, frenzied--
<b>INT. BLACK SEDAN
</b>
An M-16 clip is SMACKED into place and cocked with a
CACHACK! Ammo clips are SNICK-SNICKED into handgun butts
and a long clip is SSSNICKED into an UZI.
Watches are checked. The PIG NOSE people nod to each
other.
<b>EXT. BANK
</b>
Pig Nose #1, steals into position near the glass doors,
slams his back to the wall, weapon to cheek, breath fast.
<b>EXT. OCEAN
</b>
FAST NOW -- the surfboard rips a brutal gash in the face
of the wave. The surfer TRIMS down the line, pivoting the
board and going straight down, CARVING the bottom. He
slashes viciously back toward the lip and--
In a radical INVERTED AIR ATTACK sails SIX feet above the
wave in an explosion of water--
<b>INT. BANK
</b>
<b>--BAAAAAAMMM!
</b>Glass doors explode OPEN and Pig Nose #1 SPINS inside. He
fires a burst into the ceiling. BRRAAMM!!
<b> PIG NOSE #1
</b> EVERYBODY on the floor!
PEOPLE drop.
<b>VERY FAST HERE--
</b>Two bandits handle BANK EMPLOYEES and customers--
Another PIG NOSE watches the door--
Pig Nose #1 moves behind counter, Uzi and canvas sack in
hand.
<b>INT. SURVEILLANCE VAN
</b>
Dark. Monitors SHOW SLOW SCANS of the bank INTERIOR.
Two MEN wear headphones and black windbreakers with FBI
stenciled on the back. One watches with binoculars.
<b> BINOCULARS
</b> Bingo. We're on. Let's go.
Where's the big college
quarterback?! Are you with us,
Utah?
<b>EXT. BANK WALL
</b>
A MAN in his twenties. His head spins revealing rain-
slicked hair and face, eyes wide, bright. An edgy
handsomeness to him.
He pops a stick of Wrigley's in his mouth, rests a shotgun
on one leg and leans against the wall. He wears a
headset... through which we hear the FBI guy yelling for
him.
This is JOHNNY UTAH.
<b> BINOCULARS (FILTERED)
</b> Utah, where the hell are ya!?
Utah takes his headset off...
<b>INT. BANK
</b>
Pig Nose #1 LEAPS over the counter, holds a canvas sack
filled with booty from tellers' drawers.
<b> PIG NOSE #1
</b> Fuckin' shake it!
Pig Nose #2 nods with his snubby nose, hurries toward the
exit.
<b>EXT. FIRST VIRGINIA BANK
</b>
The bandits burst through the doors and sprint to the
alley where they jump into the SEDAN. THE DRIVER, the
WOMAN PIG NOSE, punches it and the TIRES WHIRRR on the
slick pavement.
The sedan launches down the alley.
Utah running. Like a freight train. Splashing through a
cross-alley. He doesn't break stride as he slams his
shoulder into a large, steel GARBAGE DUMPSTER.
DRIVING it like a football training sled into the ALLEY
where--
THE SEDAN LOCKS 'EM UP seconds too late as it SKIDS and
SLAMS into it, CRUNCHING into the brick wall and--
Still alive -- GRINDS into reverse back down the alley,
HEADLIGHTS SMASHED, it guns it backward as--
UTAH leaps over the dumpster and sprints after the car.
He has a brick in his right hand. He cocks it back.
Johnny HEAVES the brick thirty yards and--
SMASH! The brick EXPLODES into the windshield,
SPIDERWEBBING the glass.
Lady Pignose flinches from the glass fragments thrown into
her face.
<b> LADY PIGNOSE
</b> Son of a bitch!
The car slews backward onto the street, slamming a parked
car. Lady Pignose slams the thing into DRIVE, cuts the
wheel hard, and punches it, skidding on wet pavement.
UTAH hurtles from the alley. He leaps, somehow TACKLES
the DRIVER'S door handle and is dragged along the street.
He pulls himself up, reaches inside the window, and whips
the steering wheel hard right.
The SEDAN fishtails into a parked Toyota. Utah bounces
forward, slamming into the asphalt. Glass shards and
crushed steel are strewn everywhere, as radiator steam
whistles hot.
Pig Nose #2, riding shotgun, is trapped. Can't get his
crushed door open. The DRIVER pushes open her door.
Gropes for her pistol. Utah springs -- no respect for a
lady. He slams the door, pins her arm and slams again and
again until the gun drops. Utah kicks it away as the
woman collapses in pain.
Pig Nose #1 bails out and runs across parking lot. Utah
leaps up onto the crushed hood and draws down with the
shotgun.
<b> UTAH
</b> Halt. FBI!
Pig Nose #1 spins. We sense reckless anger. He raises
the UZI. Utah squeezes the trigger.
No death. No blood.
Just buzzers and flashing bulbs.
Pig Nose's flak vest lights up like a pinball machine.
Utah's laser weapon hit the "kill zone". Pig Nose rips
the tape off his face and the FBI CADET shakes his head in
disgust.
OBSERVERS step forward. Bank customers. Bank tellers.
All FBI personnel. MEDICAL STAFF offer the woman driver
assistance. Pig Nose #1 heads for Johnny, but is subdued
by other agents.
<b> PIG NOSE #1 (FBI CADET)
</b> I wanna say just two words to you,
asshole, SIMU-LATION!!! Johnny-
fuckin' Utah. Guys like you will do
anything to win!
Utah stares back in defiance.
The SURVEILLANCE van pulls up nearby.
BINOCULARS runs out and pinches two fingers together,
right in Johnny's face.
<b> BINOCULARS
</b> This far, Utah! You're this far
from being the most overqualified
guy Burger King ever had. Get me?!
<b> UTAH
</b> Yes sir. Sir?
<b> BINOCULARS
</b> What?
Johnny gestures to the car.
<b> UTAH
</b> I did stop the perpetrators.
Utah turns to go. As he passes he casually raises his
laser-shotgun and re-triggers Pig Nose's flak vest.
<b>LIGHTS AND BUZZERS.
</b>Pig Nose explodes. More agents restrain him.
Screams and shoving matches and pissed off guys.
Utah walks off, down the simulated street, past a sign
which bears the FBI SEAL and reads "Combat Village,
Quantico, Virginia."
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. PACIFIC OCEAN - DAY
</b>
Red sky. A luminous Pacific. Five foot faces. Nice
curl. A lineup of SURFERS wait outside the break.
Silhouetted, bobbing like a pack of sea mammals.
<b>INT./ EXT. TAXI
</b>
A flood of orange through the windshield as the cab crawls
down Ocean Park to the sea. CAMERA HANDHELD from the back
seat.
The driver turns to us.
<b> DRIVER
</b> Anywhere? You don't care?
<b> UTAH (V.O.)
</b> Anywhere. I've just never seen the
ocean before.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. VENICE BEACH
</b>
JOHNNY UTAH trudging across the sand, holding his shoes.
Garment bag and a big duffel over his shoulder.
He looks silly in his dark suit, tie loosened, wearing a
turned around baseball cap.
He wiggles his toes in the sand, looks around like a kid.
A pack of BOUNCING BEAUTIES jog through frame.
Utah grins, reaches up and turns his cap around.
It reads "I Love L.A."
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. FEDERAL BUILDING
</b>
Looking down the face of the concrete monolith at Wilshire
and Veteran. Ant-like, Johnny Utah's tiny figure moves
toward the entrance.
<b> VOICE (OVER)
</b> Day One in LA, special agent Utah.
You may have been top two percent of
your class at Quantico but you have
exactly zero hours in the field
here. You know nothing...
<b>INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - FBI BULLPEN
</b>
Supervising Agent BEN HARP leads Utah across the bullpen.
Rows of desks. Agents sitting at computer terminals.
Data hell. Looks like he got a job at Xerox.
<b> HARP
</b> You know less than nothing. If you
even knew that you knew nothing, at
least that would be something, but
you don't.
<b> UTAH
</b> Yes, sir.
Utah is wearing a suit, carrying a briefcase. Harp is
mid-thirties, confident of stride, tanned of skin, perfect
of hair. GQ. Aggressive.
<b> HARP
</b> Eating solid breakfasts, Utah?
<b> UTAH
</b> Sir?
<b> HARP
</b> All the food groups? Avoiding
sugar? Caffeine? I see to it that
my people maintain cardiovascular
fitness. We stay off hard liquor,
cigarettes...
<b> UTAH
</b> (poker face)
I take the skin off chicken.
Harp glances at him, eyes narrowing. They reach a
glassed-in compound of small offices. Harp swings the
door open and the other agents look up as Utah enters.
<b> HARP
</b> This is us. Bank Robbery. And
you're in the bank-robbery capital
of the world--
<b> UTAH
</b> 1322 last year in LA county. Up 26
percent from the year before.
<b> HARP
</b> That's right. And we nailed over a
thousand of them. We did it by
crunching data. Good crime-scene
work, good lab work, good data-base
analysis. Nobody had to tackle a
car once. You getting the signal,
special agent?
<b> UTAH
</b> Zero distortion, sir.
He picks up a donut from someone's desk, a succulent
glazed jelly.
<b> UTAH
</b> I love these things.
He looks right at Harp. Takes a big fuck-you bite.
<b> HARP
</b> You're a real blue-flame special,
aren't you, Utah? I don't know why
they sent you to LA. Must be an
asshole shortage.
<b> UTAH
</b> Not so far.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>UNDERWATER
</b>
A blue field with a pulsing network of rippling lines.
VOOM! A figure rockets down INTO FRAME in a curtain of
bubbles. A gawky AGENT, in less than stylish FBI trunks,
flails around blindfolded looking for bricks at the bottom
of a pool.
<b>INT. GYMNASIUM POOL - DAY
</b>
The pool casts wavy distortions upon TWO DOZEN MEN, all
grumbling as they stand in line, wearing T-shirts with FBI
logos, sweats and sneakers. We hear a splash, and the men
shuffle forward.
<b> PAPPAS (V.O.)
</b> The dolls love this baby. It brings
them luck when they rub it -- right
between their buttons.
CLOSE ON tape measure wrapped around a generous belly.
PULL BACK to reveal VETERAN AGENT COREY measuring the
ample waist of ANGELO PAPPAS. This 54 year old silver
haired Greek stands rubbing his belly like a Zulu chief.
<b> COREY
</b> Angelo, we need a bigger tape.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Just read the goddamn number.
<b> COREY
</b> Still a 46. Maybe we can cinch it
down, wear a girdle--
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Screw you and this holistic fitness
crap! At least my arms don't flap
in the wind.
Corey secretly squeezes his bicep as...
A whistle blows. A broad shouldered MAN wearing an FBI
cap barks at the Greek.
<b> BIG SHOULDERS
</b> Okay, Pappas, let's put on the
blindfold. Wanna see you retrieve
at least two bricks from the bottom.
JOHNNY UTAH enters the pool area in the distance. Says
something to one of the agents. Is pointed toward us as--
Corey ties the blindfold and guides Pappas to the edge of
the pool.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> I've been in the field 33 years,
fired my piece 23 times in the line
of duty, and I got no idea what a
blind man fetching bricks has gotta
do with being a Special Agent!
Johnny has walked up. Pappas, blindfolded, turns directly
to Utah as he continues, thinking it's Corey.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Added to which indignity, I got
three months left to retirement and
they saddle me with some blue-flamer
fresh out of Quantico for a partner.
Some quarterback punk, Johnny Unitas
or something.
<b> UTAH
</b> The shit they pull, huh?
Pappas snorts agreement and cannonballs into the pool.
Huge backblast of water. The other agents hoot and
holler.
Corey swears and wipes off his clipboard.
Johnny steps to the edge, looks down.
We see the blindfolded Pappas groveling along the bottom.
The other agents cheer as Pappas heads for the surface.
<b> COREY
</b> Here he comes. Hold up a fish,
he'll take it right outta your hand.
Pappas surfaces in an explosion of spray as he sputters
for breath. He grabs the edge and angrily slaps two
bricks on the tiles. He rips off the blindfold looks up
and frowns.
A HAND ENTERS FRAME to help him up. Pappas takes it and
Johnny hauls him on deck.
<b> COREY
</b> Hey Shamu, this is your guy.
Pappas eyes the new agent warily. Extends his hand.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Pappas. Angelo Pappas.
<b> UTAH
</b> Punk. Quarterback Punk.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> (grinning)
Welcome to Sea World, kid.
<b>INT. SEDAN - DAY
</b>
<b>SERIES OF TIGHT SHOTS
</b>ECU sweep hand of a dive watch clicks through the
seconds.
Magnum shells are fed into a pump shotgun.
Velcro straps of Second Chance body armor are fastened.
White gloves are pulled snug over strong hands.
A silk tie is straightened. A shotgun slide is cocked.
The sweep hand approaches the twelve.
A LATEX MASK is pulled over the back of a man's head.
<b> VOICE
</b> The little hand says...
The mask turns into FULL CLOSE-UP. It is RONALD REAGAN.
<b> REAGAN
</b> ... let's rock and roll.
<b>INT. BANK OF AMERICA
</b>
Business as usual. The scene so normal you know something
is about to happen. An exiting MAN stuffs bucks into his
wallet, reaching for the door which--
SLAMS INWARD. He is hit by a wall of EX-PRESIDENTS.
REAGAN charges in with his buddies RICHARD M. NIXON,
LYNDON BAINES JOHNSON and JOHN F. KENNEDY.
Reagan throws the poor guy skidding across the floor.
Nixon buttstrokes a guard, hard in the nuts, with his 12
gauge.
The other guard goes for his holster -- finds himself
facing three shotguns and one very large handgun.
Reagan sights down the pistol.
<b> REAGAN
</b> Use a gun, go to heaven.
The guard freezes. White and sweaty.
Tricky Dick slips up to him and collects the pistol.
Kennedy covers the stunned customers.
Johnson backs up against the door jam, watching the
street, and the sedan idling at the curb.
<b> REAGAN
</b> EVERYBODY FREEZE!! That's right.
ALL TELLERS step back from the
counter! Hands on heads! MOVE!!
Nixon and Reagan move quickly to the counter as the
tellers comply.
<b> REAGAN
</b> Everybody else on the floor! Do it!
On the floor, let's go.
<b> NIXON
</b> SUCK LINOLEUM, BITCH!! You got
earwax?!
Nixon grabs a stunned woman by the arm and hurls her to
the floor.
She lands hard. Everyone is on the deck by now.
The Presidents move fast.
Reagan leaps onto the counter. Stands up where he can see
all.
Nixon hurdles to tellers' side and they start moving down
the line together. Reagan controlling the room as Nixon
quickly empties the tellers' cash drawers into the sack.
His hands move like lightning.
<b> REAGAN
</b> Just stay cool. Everybody stay
cool. Heads down. Eyes down. The
money's insured--
TIGHT ON -- MONEY flying into the sack.
<b> REAGAN
</b> -- it's not worth dying for.
Another 45 seconds of your time.
That's all. Then -- Whoa, Tricky
Dick!
Nixon pulls a pack of twenties back out of the bag and
tosses it to the BANK MANAGER. Who reflexively catches
it.
Then drops it like a hot-potato just before--
It EXPLODES into a cloud of blue ink. The manager is dyed
blue.
Burnt money showers on the terrified customers.
LBJ looks at his watch and WHISTLES.
The bandits sprint for the front doors.
Kennedy exits first, followed by Reagan.
LBJ pauses under the surveillance camera, drops his
trousers and MOONS. Thank you is written across his white
butt.
<b>BLACK AND WHITE VIDEO MONITOR--
</b>
High angle, distorted wide shot. LBJ hoists his pants and
splits, followed out by Nixon, who exits backward with the
famous double peace-sign held high overhead.
IMAGE FREEZES. Victorious Nixon, grainy... something from
a time warp. The image SUDDENLY GOES INTO HIGH-SPEED
REVERSE. The bank robbery sequence zips backward.
<b> PAPPAS (V.O.)
</b> Twenty-seven banks in three years.
In and out in 90 seconds. Nobody
ever gets shot. We're talking solid
professionals.
<b>WE ARE IN--
</b>
<b>INT. BANK CRIME SCENE - LATER
</b>
UTAH & PAPPAS are watching a monitor in the glassed-in
office. The robbery REPLAYS on grainy BLACK & WHITE
videotape.
The bandits barge in, raise shotguns and order everybody
to the floor.
<b> UTAH
</b> Good move.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Yeah, they control the room well.
Stick strictly to the cash drawers.
VIDEO TAPE -- Utah is reverse-scanning. The bandits walk
BACKWARD into the bank. The explosion of blue ink is
sucked back into the pack of money, then leaps back into
President Nixon's hand.
<b> UTAH
</b> They don't go for the vault?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Never go for the vault. They never
get greedy.
<b> UTAH
</b> Smart. You burn time in the vault.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Reagan usually drives. Stolen
switch car, they leave it running at
the curb, looks parked from a
distance. When they run, they dump
the vehicle and vanish. And I mean
vanish.
Utah stops the video, now FAST-FORWARDING it, stopping
where President Nixon separates the exploding "dye pack"
planted with the money, before he tosses it aside.
<b> UTAH
</b> Surgical. Look at them separate the
dye packs. Dick and Ronny know
their jobs.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> The Ex-Presidents are the best I've
seen, kid.
Outside the windowed partition POLICE OFFICERS interview
frightened customers.
Hotshot agents MUNOZ and COLE enter from the main floor of
the bank. Think they're very slick.
<b> MUNOZ
</b> Anytime you two are finished jerking
off watching MTV I need to get a
look at that tape.
<b> COLE
</b> (sloppy grin)
Hey, Pappas, you tell the kid your
theory on the Presidents?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Just take the tape, Cole.
Now Munoz starts to smile.
<b> MUNOZ
</b> Hang ten, Pappas, like totally
rad...
(to Utah)
I gotta tell ya, the department
loves it.
<b> UTAH
</b> What's he talking about, Angelo?
Harp raps glass. Cole and Munoz look sharp.
Harp enters addressing Pappas and Utah.
<b> HARP
</b> They found the drop car up on
Mulholland. I want you two to go
work it.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> What? Now I'm working the drop car?
Who's handling the scene here?
<b> HARP
</b> Cole and Munoz. I'm uh... letting
them run with the ball for a while.
Cole and Munoz gloat.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Cole and Munoz? I been on this case
for two years.
<b> HARP
</b> (zeroing in on
Pappas)
That's the point, isn't it?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Yeah, I get it. Time to play let's
dick the old guys, huh, Harp?
<b> HARP
</b> Supervising Special Agent, Harp.
Now I want you to go work the drop
car, okay, Angelo? Okay?
The Greek rises like a proud bull.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Sure. No problem. How about your
office? Your office need vacuuming?
We could do that too.
Pappas and Utah move toward the door. It's a tight
squeeze as they pass Cole and Munoz. Especially Pappas.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Excuse me.
Read as fuck you.
<b>EXT. MULHOLLAND SCENIC TURNOUT - NIGHT
</b>
The diamond field of LA glitters below. The small parking
area off Mulholland is filled with squad cars. Red and
blue disco.
A flock of UNIFORMS milling about a non-descript CHEVY.
<b>INT. SEDAN FRONT SEAT
</b>
FLASHLIGHT BEAM prowls the interior, stopping on a small
printed card, folded like a pup tent, left upon the bench
seat. It reads "Sanitized For Your Protection."
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Cute huh? They love to fuck with
us.
UTAH & PAPPAS pull their heads out of the sedan. Forensic
expert, HALSEY, stands behind them.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Don't tell me, let me guess. The
switch-car was stolen this morning...
(Halsey is nodding
his head)
They vacuumed and 409'd the
interior, did the windows, emptied
the ashtrays...
<b> HALSEY
</b> Yeah, the usual drill.
Utah pulls on a rubber glove and lifts the card off the
seat. Studies it. Talks to Halsey like Halsey's the one
that just out of Quantico, not Utah.
<b> UTAH
</b> Could've taken their gloves off
before setting that card. Laser it
for prints. Maybe held it to his
teeth -- check the edges for saliva.
(a beat)
Today was a scorcher. This Chevy
doesn't have air conditioning...
<b> HALSEY
</b> Sweat secretions in the seatbacks?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> You through, Mr. Wizard? Let me
know if you find Jimmy Hoffa under
the seat while you're at it.
(looks at his watch)
Hell, it's only 7:30. The night's
still young... you can solve this
case and start on another one.
<b> UTAH
</b> Well, what're your ideas on these
guys?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Forget about it, kid. They're
ghosts. Let the goddamn yuppie
Mormon affirmative action assholes
handle it. See I'm almost 55... so
I must be senile, right? They
better get me out before I start
pissing myself in public. Drooling.
It would look bad for the Bureau,
right?
<b> UTAH
</b> So you're gonna coast to retirement,
when you could nail these guys and
go out with come dignity.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> You watch your fucking mouth!
(pounds his chest)
Mr. Hoover himself pinned the Seal
of Honor right here!
The two men glare at each other. Utah looks away.
<b> UTAH
</b> Sorry.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Yeah. That was thirty years ago
anyway.
(stares out at the
bright horizon)
L.A.'s changed a lot since then.
The air got dirty and the sex got
clean.
(after a beat)
So you want to nail the Ex-
Presidents? Be a big hero?
<b> UTAH
</b> Yeah. What's your theory?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> The fucking punks are surfers.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>GRAINY BLACK & WHITE VIDEO WITH TIME CODE
</b>
Ex-Presidents charge into bank, raise shotguns.
Image STOPS, then FAST-FORWARDS to the end.
<b>WE ARE IN--
</b>
<b>INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - BULLPEN - NIGHT
</b>
Dark, lit by the TV at the far end of the bullpen. PAPPAS
and UTAH sit in front of the flickering Sony in the big
empty room. Angelo punches a button on the VCR.
<b>ON THE SCREEN--
</b>
LBJ turns his back to the fish-eye lens, drops trousers
and moons the camera. Thank you.
Angelo FREEZES on LBJ'S butt.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> I'm tellin' ya, kid, it's in our
face. Lookit the tan on this guy.
The young agent looks forward.
Stares at the white inscribed butt bracketed by deep
bronze tan lines.
<b> UTAH
</b> Oh well he must be a surfer.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Shutup, you might learn somethin'
you're not careful... So last year
Nixon scuffs a counter going over.
There was a soil sample. Non-
specific mud traces of asphalt,
oils, blah, blah... sand and...
carnuba wax. So I became a wax
expert. There's 80 some uses for
this stuff, something like five
hundred products.
He tosses Utah a ream of computer printout. Utah scans
lists of brand names.
<b> UTAH
</b> Candle wax. Car wax. Mustache wax?
Could be anything. Guy's waxing his
mustache at the beach. Gets sand in
it. Wipes it off with a shoe. Shoe
scuffs the counter.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> The lab made three possible matches,
this was one of 'em.
Pappas opens his desk drawer, takes something out and
throws it to Johnny. A pastel blue hockey puck wrapped in
cellophane.
A block of "Mr. Zog's Sex Wax".
<b> UTAH
</b> (reading)
Sex wax? You're not into kinky
shit, are you Angelo?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Surfers use it on their boards.
They rub sand into it for traction.
<b> UTAH
</b> Thanks for the tip. I needed this
knowledge.
Pappas shoves a thick file folder toward Utah.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Now lookit the dates on the
robberies. This is strictly a
summer job for these guys.
Johnny leafs through it.
<b> UTAH
</b> ... Four months. June to October.
Mmmm...same the year before.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Another month and we don't see 'em
again 'til next summer.
Utah stares at Angelo as it dawns. Grins suddenly.
<b> UTAH
</b> They're traveling the rest of the
year on the money, going where the
waves are...
Pappas starts to smile. Suddenly, he jumps up onto his
desk, gets down in a speed-crouch, arms extended.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> (to one and all)
The Ex-Presidents rip off banks to
finance their endless summer!
Johnny watches, grinning. The night security GUARD walks
in. Utah turns to the guard, shrugs.
<b> UTAH
</b> I think he needs a vacation.
The guard nods understanding.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. SURFSHOP - MALIBU PIER - DAY
</b>
Long stack-up rack of gleaming SURFBOARDS.
A HAND reaches in, pulling out a board from the middle of
the deck.
JOHNNY UTAH hefts it. Sights along it. Trying to look
familiar with alien equipment. Behind him is a whip-thin
15 YEAR OLD SALESMAN. Nut-brown with platinum hair,
jammed day-glo shorts, sleeveless T-shirt, unlaced Ug-
boots.
<b> 15
</b> Highest performance, very kind. If
you want to get aggro, man, this
stick can handle your best rage.
Where you surf?
<b> UTAH
</b> I don't.
<b> 15
</b> Whoa!! Back up! This's a 5'6" tri-
fin squash-tail thruster. You'd eat
major shit on this, dude.
ACROSS THE ROOM we see Pappas trying on purple wraparound
sunglasses.
The salespunk pulls down a wide board with a garish
firebird paint scheme. Like a lowrider flame-job. The
logo reads "Dance with the Universe."
<b> 15
</b> Here, you need a rhino chaser like
this one to learn on. Good board.
I mean for a pig board.
Utah hefts the board. Scowls. Hates anything he's not
great at.
PAPPAS sets his purchases on a counter: the glasses, some
plutonium-pink shorts, T-shirts, sun-block. The GIRL
behind the counter is sixteen, barely contained in a
macrame bikini-top and "Dolphin" shorts. Angelo picks up
a package of Sex Wax from a rack. Sniffs it.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> (reading the label)
"Best for your stick", huh? This
might not be enough. I better get
two.
The girl stifles a grin. Thinks he's cute. At the other
end of the counter, 15 is ringing up Utah's board.
<b> 15
</b> Hey, man, guys your age learning to
surf, it's cool, there's nothing
wrong with it.
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm twenty-five.
<b> 15
</b> See that's what I'm saying, it's
never too late.
Utah picks up the board and moves to leave.
<b> 15
</b> Hope you stay with it. Surfin's
the source. It'll change your life.
Swear to God.
<b>EXT. MALIBU PIER - DAY
</b>
Utah and Pappas walking back to the car.
Two FBI agents in suits and ties walking with a day-glo
orange surfboard. Surreal image. The ocean shimmers in
<b>B.G.
</b>
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Johnny, it's the only way.
<b> UTAH
</b> Why can't I just walk around with
this thing under my arm and act
stoned? Ask a few questions.
Angelo stops at the railing, points toward the ocean.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Look. Look at them out there.
LONG LENS on packs of surfers sitting outside. Bobbing
slowly. Hunched like sea birds. Waiting for an unseen
sign. Disappearing and reappearing beyond the break.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> They're like some kind of tribe.
Got their own language. You can't
just walk up to these guys. You've
got to get out there. Learn some
moves. Get into their head. Pick
up the speech.
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo, this stuff is for little
rubber people who don't shave yet.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> It's all balance, right? And
coordination. How hard can it be?
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. SURFRIDER BEACH - DAY
</b>
WHAAAAAM! Johnny is CLOBBERED by a wave.
He's flipped off his board and hits the water face-first
as the wave crashes over him. Other surfers steer clear.
PAPPAS lounges in a beach chair in his plutonium pink
shorts, purple Vuarnet's and a T-shirt emblazoned with
"Surf This" across the chest. A picnic basket sits close
at hand. He winces at Utah's wipeout. Shouts from his
beach chair.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> I think you gotta hit them straight
on!
<b> UTAH
</b> (out of breath)
Got it...
UTAH holds the tip steady, gouges the face of a wave and
squirts out the other side. Another wave rises and Utah
glides up over the hump. He clears the swell and the
ocean suddenly smooths out like a giant lake. Triumphant
over having made the lineup, he sits up on the board, and
falls over.
PAPPAS slices a green apple, some feta cheese and eats off
the knife.
UTAH climbs back on his board. WHISTLES and HOOTS sound
as SURFERS spot a new swell. Utah watches as the regulars
start catching rides. Suddenly he feels like a lost dog
on a busy freeway.
A young LOCAL in a neon wetsuit slashes past him, inches
away.
<b> LOCAL
</b> Outta the way, you dick!
Another, shredding viciously, is blasting toward him.
<b> LOCAL 2
</b> Move it, kook!
Johnny paddles rapidly, ducks under.
Sees another, bigger wave coming.
Pissed off... at himself, at the downy-cheeked hotshots,
at the frustration, he turns his board around and starts
paddling hard.
He somehow gets the soles of his feet in contact with the
top of the board, then struggles up. He's standing --
sort of.
Arms pinwheeling, he topples in a nasty crash...
Right in front of a SHAVED-HEAD SURFER on full
afterburner.
Johnny vanishes in an explosion of spray. His board
<b>SHOOTS OUT.
</b>It SMASHES SIDEWAYS INTO RAZORHEAD.
The guy does an ugly endo.
Utah comes up GASPING for air, arms flailing.
His board, floating a few feet away, tugging at his ankle.
He drapes his torso across the board and pants for breath.
Razorhead, already back on his board, paddles over.
Points to a small dent in the fiberglass.
<b> RAZORHEAD
</b> You dinged my board, kook!!
Utah looks up in apology as--
<b>A CRUSHING RIGHT HOOK SMACKS HIS FACE!
</b>Knocks him under.
Razorhead pulls a KNIFE from a sheath held by a thong
around his neck. As Johnny surfaces, Razorhead slashes in
a vicious arc--
Severing Utah's leash, close to the board.
His flame-job surfboard bobs away.
<b> RAZORHEAD
</b> Politeness counts, ASSHOLE!
The surf punk plunges under a wave, disappearing.
<b> UTAH
</b> Goddamn son-of-a--
Before Utah can finish, another wave engulfs him and he
tumbles to shore, Razorhead nowhere to be seen.
ON PAPPAS as Johnny's flame-job board washes in at his
feet. He calmly picks it up as Utah staggers INTO FRAME
out of the knee-deep whitewash. Johnny rubs his jaw.
Spits blood.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Kid, maybe this ain't your sport.
Utah grabs the board out of Pappas' hands and stalks off
across the beach.
<b>INT. UTAH'S BEDROOM - NIGHT
</b>
Johnny dead asleep. Silence. Then BRRRRR!!
He jacknifes up like he just took 20,000 volts. His eyes
read panic. He rolls up, legs scissor against tangled
sheets and he collapses over empty boxes. He stumbles
like a blind man through the mess until he finds--
A tiny Indianapolis Colts FOOTBALL HELMET with a digital
clock for eyes. 5:00 a.m. Johnny emits a drawn out
groan.
<b>EXT. OCEAN - DAWN
</b>
Deafening BOOM as a monster wave CRASHES below a sky the
color of slate. A distant Pacific storm has brought the
swell. 10 foot faces. Glassy, green walls the size of
houses beckoning from beyond the soup.
A lone FIGURE bobbing out beyond the break.
The surfer disappears behind the swell.
Then REAPPEARS, grinning across the smooth offshore
barrel.
UTAH wearing a wetsuit stands beside his surfboard,
craning forward to get a better look.
The surfer is a WOMAN.
She moves with liquid grace, in perfect harmony with the
sea, long hair flying out behind her. She undulates like
a dancer.
Dipping, carving, slicing, making it look sooooo easy.
Johnny shakes his head. Oh man, if she can do it...
<b> UTAH
</b> Fuck it.
He stands, grabs his board and heads out into the icy
foam.
<b>OCEAN BREAK
</b>A horizon of whitecaps churn behind him.
He lies on his board, rising and dropping with the swell.
So far so good. He spots a wave. A fluid gray-green
house rising, forever rising. Utah turns. Paddles. The
house catching him, lifting him high upon its roof.
Utah is committed. He gets to his feet as his board
slices along the lip. He peers over the falls, down the
face -- holy shit! -- it looks like Niagara. He loses
balance and spirals airborne, falling bullseye into the
IMPACT ZONE. The entire force of the wave crashing upon
him, plunging him down into the--
<b>WASHING MACHINE (UNDERWATER)
</b>
where he SPINS like a whirling dervish, LASHED to a
slamdancing surfboard at the mercy of God.
He is held prisoner in a grey-green churning nightmare,
like a six-ton pit bull has him by the neck, shaking him.
He looks around. Can't tell up from down.
WHAM! His head slams into the bottom -- rocks and sand.
Stunned, he struggles toward the light, finally bursting
to the--
SURFACE. Gasping for breath.
The good news is he's breathing, the bad news is he's
surfaced in the impact zone. Another wave crashes down,
stuffing him back into the washing machine. Leaving no
sign of life in the white froth. The orangeade surfboard
launches high into the sky, spinning like a misfiring
Trident missile, trailing its broken leash like a kite
tail.
IN THE WASHING MACHINE, Utah tumbles in a cold green hell.
His chest is convulsing, needing air now.
Suddenly a FIGURE lunges down INTO FRAME.
A hand snatches a fistful of his hair and yanks him
toward--
THE SURFACE. The WOMAN SURFER bursts through the foam.
Grabs her board for leverage. Hauls Utah's head above the
water with one strong arm.
He is choking, coughing, slapping fatigued arms against
the surf, panic registering in his movements.
<b> WOMAN SURFER
</b> (yelling above the
roar)
Swim, goddammit! Come on! Move
it!
The woman gets her board under one of his arms for support
and sidekicks fiercely into the wave, holding him in a
painful grip.
With powerful strokes, she helps Utah make it to calmer
water outside the break. The big waves, just forming up,
lift them and drop them as they pass. Muted thunder when
the waves hit the beach. She drags him half onto her
surfboard.
Practically slamming his face into the board.
He's coughing out saltwater.
ON THE WOMAN, our first good look at her.
She is EXQUISITE. Hair slicked tight to her high-
cheekboned face, she looks sleek and feral, with eyes that
burn bright.
Especially when she's pissed.
<b> WOMAN
</b> Look crazy son of a bitch! You
wanna commit suicide, you do it
someplace else!
She undoes her leash and swims rapidly off, returning in a
few seconds with Johnny's board. He takes it from her and
flops over it, still coughing.
Wipes at the salt-snot running out of his nose.
There is a cut over his eye from when he re-arranged the
rocks on the bottom.
<b> WOMAN
</b> Look at this pig-board piece-a-shit.
It's still got the price tag on it,
for Chrissakes. What'd you do, buy
it yesterday? You've got no
business out here whatsoever.
Still gagging and gasping, Johnny manages a goofy grin.
<b> UTAH
</b> Well, I saw you and--
<b> WOMAN
</b> Yeah, you saw me and you figured
that if a mere girl can do it, a big
strong stud like you shouldn't have
any problem. Right?! Well you
figured wrong, dork!
She yanks her board around and strokes powerfully away
from him.
<b> UTAH
</b> Hey! Uh, how do I get back in?
<b> WOMAN
</b> (without turning)
Carefully, tough guy. Very
carefully.
<b> UTAH
</b> (yelling now)
My name's Johnny Utah!
<b> WOMAN
</b> Who cares!
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm telling you so when you look
back on this moment, you can
think... there was this guy named
Utah and he was pretty much a dork
but maybe not such a bad person and
I let him drown in conditions he had
no business being in whatsoever...
when I could have easily helped him.
Johnny calmly starts paddling toward shore.
Thundering white water pounding the rocks ahead of him.
He's stoic in the face of certain death.
<b> UTAH
</b> (over his shoulder,
gamely)
Bye.
<b> WOMAN
</b> Wait! Jesus Christ!
(swimming back to
him)
You're fucking crazy, you know that?
You go in there you're gonna eat it
on the rocks. Here, follow me.
The woman paddles parallel to the shore and Utah pumps
along behind her. She gets him away from the rocks, then
starts watching the incoming swell, timing it to the lull
between sets...
<b> WOMAN
</b> Go when I say. But stay down. Just
lie on the board. Alright, let's
go!
Utah paddles rapidly, following her, watching what she
does.
He is borne up by a low glassy wall.
He bellyboards all the way into the mushy shorebreak.
Tumbles. Stands unsteadily, grabbing his board. Runs
clumsily out of the retreating foam as another wave comes,
sucking water out.
On terra firma he looks back to see the woman kick-out
gracefully and disappear beyond the wave.
He flops on the sand. Shivering. Miserable.
<b>EXT. COAST HIGHWAY - LATER
</b>
LONG LENS... the woman is peeling off her wetsuit next to
a BATHTUB PORSCHE that needs a paint job. Her board is
propped in the passenger seat. Stereo is pumping.
UTAH WATCHES THROUGH BINOCULARS from 50 yards up the road.
THE WOMAN, in a bikini, towels off briskly.
Swimmer's shoulders. Long muscular legs. Lean and mean.
She jumps into the car without bothering to open the door.
Looks at her watch -- her manner is late, in a hurry.
Through the tiny windshield we watch her shimmy and shake
as she pulls her bottoms off and struggles into something
else, not too concerned about the morning traffic right
next to her.
She pulls on a T-shirt and them performs a Houdini act to
extract the bikini top out of one sleeve hole.
UTAH WATCHES IMPASSIVELY. He starts his car and pulls out
onto PCH to follow as the bathtub Porsche zooms past.
<b>EXT. NEPTUNE'S NET
</b>
Utah cruises up slowly, pulls off the road.
Up ahead the Porsche turns into the parking lot of
NEPTUNE'S NET, a Coast Highway hangout that serves high-
grade steamed sea-critters and beer to low-grade road
trash, bikers and surfers.
Lean-and-Mean, wearing jeans and T-shirt, jumps out of the
Porsche. She hurries to the door of the Net, unlocking it
for a couple of Mexican cooks -- helpers wearing
expressions like they wait like this for her every day.
UTAH puts down his binoculars and jots the Porsche's
license number down on a Tastee-Freeze bag. 867CDH.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. COMPUTER ROOM - DAY
</b>
Green glow washes the intent faces of Utah and Pappas as
MISS DEER data specialist, enters 867 CDH into her
computer.
She is purebred American Indian, strong featured and
beautiful.
The screen freezes and the hard disk churns.
The DMV rap sheet scrolls down the screen.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> This is your surfer contact?
Female. Blond hair. Green eyes.
5'6". 119 lbs?
<b> MISS DEER
</b> Hmm, not bad, Utah.
<b> UTAH
</b> Tyler Ann Endicott. Born 11-27-64.
The rap sheet scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. There is
something frightening about the length of this file.
<b> UTAH
</b> (reading from the
screen)
... Exhibition of speed. Indecent
exposure inside moving vehicle...
<b> MISS DEER
</b> Hot, very hot.
<b> UTAH
</b> Felony arrest! "See adjoining
file"...
(he types quickly)
Kidnapping?!
Pappas crowds over Johnny's shoulder, reading.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> This is great. She ties some guy
up. Nude. Leaves the scene and
fails to return for 24 hours. No
convection.
<b> MISS DEER
</b> Gotta avoid the rope tricks, Johnny.
Utah gives her a "very funny" look. More data scrolls
forth.
<b> UTAH
</b> What else they got on her? I still
haven't found anything I can really
use. I gotta find an approach, a
way in -- here we go...
(he reads)
Both parents deceased. Plane crash.
San Diego, '84. Mmmm. Yeah,
definitely.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. NEPTUNE'S NET - DAY
</b>
A fat biker pulls out on a loud Harley (like there's any
other kind). The place is almost empty in the weekend
lull between lunch and dinner.
Utah's car pulls in off PCH.
<b>INT. NEPTUNE'S NET
</b>
Tyler Endicott is working the counter. She jams an order
on the wheel and turns TO US.
<b> TYLER
</b> Next! Oh, no.
REVERSE ON Johnny standing there. Her only customer.
<b> TYLER
</b> What do you want?
<b> UTAH
</b> Shrimp and fries.
<b> TYLER
</b> I mean, what do you want? What are
you doing hanging around here.
<b> UTAH
</b> (very serious)
I need you to teach me.
<b> TYLER
</b> Gimme a break.
(to cook)
One shrimp and fries to go!
(to Johnny)
Anything to drink?
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm serious.
<b> TYLER
</b> I can see that. But forget it.
Stick to tennis, or whatever you're
good at. Miniature golf. Here,
your number's 37.
<b> UTAH
</b> Well, I'm just gonna go back out
there till I catch on to it or break
my neck.
She's looking at him. This guy's nuts. She laughs.
<b> TYLER
</b> What is it? You all of a sudden got
this bug you had to go surfing?
This is a line, right?
<b> UTAH
</b> No, no. See, all my life I've done
things for other people. In high
school I played football because my
old man expected me to. Then my
parents always figured I'd go to law
school, so I did. Football
scholarship. Graduated Phi Beta
Kappa--
<b> TYLER
</b> This gonna take long?
<b> UTAH
</b> Wait, so I'm a big hero to my folks,
right?
(he leans forward, a
little awkward)
But two years ago they got killed in
a car wreck and I just suddenly
realized all my goals had been their
goals. And I hadn't been living my
own life. So I wanted something for
myself. Something that maybe didn't
make any sense. You know what I
mean?
Tyler's smile has faded during this. He's managed to
touch her, break through the tough-waitress act. Now
she's looking him right in the eye.
<b> UTAH
</b> I came out here from Ohio a month
ago. Never saw the ocean before. I
didn't think it would effect me so
much. Like I'm drawn to it, or
something. I want to do what you
do. It's the truth.
<b> TYLER
</b> Tomorrow, 6 AM. Here. If you're a
minute late I'm gone.
(he's grinning)
And Stud... I didn't take you to
raise. I can show you a few things
but after that you're on your own.
That'll be four fifty.
He plunks down a ten and backs out the door, grinning.
<b> UTAH
</b> Keep the change, Teach.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BEACH - DAWN
</b>
UTAH & TYLER walk across the sand.
Tyler drops her board.
<b> TYLER
</b> Stop here.
(she turns to him)
Do you agree to do exactly what I
say when I say it?
<b> UTAH
</b> Sure.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
UTAH pops INTO FRAME, arms extended, one leg in front of
the other, torso bent at the waist: classic surfing
stance.
Suddenly, he drops OUT OF FRAME.
WE PULL BACK -- Revealing Utah on his board, on the sand.
<b> TYLER
</b> Do it again.
Tyler is making him "pop" up to his feet. Again and
again. GAWKERS stop to watch. Utah fights humiliation.
He pops again. And again. Quick cuts.
On the next pop we--
PULL BACK to reveal Utah on his board, in a wave. He is
surfing.
For about three seconds. He flies off the deck, ass over
teakettle.
On the SPLASH we start--
<b>A SEQUENCE OF TIME CUTS
</b>
Tyler and Utah straddle their boards outside the break.
She nods as the set comes, mellow right tubes. Utah digs
in, arms pumping.
He feels the bite as the wave picks up his board and
starts down the wall.
And endos.
<b>CLOUDY PLATINUM DAWN...
</b>Tyler shouting at Utah as he fights for balance.
He flies off again.
BLINDING BRIGHT SUNRISE. TYLER NEXT TO UTAH in the
lineup, straddling boards. She moves her hands like a
fighter pilot explaining a dogfight maneuver. Utah
watches intently.
Utah, backlit in glorious slow motion, tries a little turn
and feels his feet slip out. He slams down butt-first on
the board, flips over, feet sticking straight up out of a
blast of diamond spray.
Tyler cringes, giving a look like it's hopeless.
TYLER AND UTAH, at their cars, skinning out of their
wetsuits. Utah looks exhausted, downcast. She snaps her
wet towel at his ass, cheering him up.
MALIBU PIER. RAIN. Tyler jumps out of her Porsche and
sees Utah sitting in his car. She goes to him, opens the
door and starts pulling him out. Come on you pussy.
UTAH and TYLER wait their turn in the lineup. Rain pelts
their faces. The waves are depressing inside mushers
under a gray sky.
Utah starts to paddle. Tyler shakes her head no. Utah is
committed to the I'face. Tyler stifles a laugh.
<b> TYLER
</b> (to the other
surfers)
I'm not with him.
Johnny gouges the lip, pops and begins the drop.
Suddenly, miraculously, he catches an edge and, still
standing, is carried along the tiny wall.
The wall begins to sag. Utah shoots along the mush
hooting and continues hooting madly as he thrashes all the
way to shore.
He turns and grins foolishly out to sea.
Tyler bursts out laughing.
<b>EXT. MALIBU PIER - DUSK
</b>
Big surf. Rough conditions. Closeout set.
UTAH, board in arm, follows Tyler out of the whitewater
onto the beach.
<b> TYLER
</b> It's closing out completely. Let's
call it.
Utah nods. His eyes track the unruly break.
<b> UTAH
</b> Who's that?
A LONE SURFER slashing through the pilings of the pier. A
real kamikaze run as the whitewater walls thunder behind
him.
SILHOUETTED against a crimson sky and backlit spray the
figure pumps among the pier pilings in a frenzy of motion
that is somehow balletic.
Laying out bottom turns, torquing his body and blasting
the lip a few times, moving so fast his long dark hair
stands straight back as if he were leaning out a car
window on the freeway.
<b> TYLER (V.O.)
</b> That's Bodhi. They call his the
Bodhisattva.
Utah watches as THE BODHISATTVA gets vertical with a snap,
trims down the volcanic wall, carves the bottom, pivots,
pumps to the top, gouging the lip, getting six feet of
air.
Gawkers HOWL and shout praise at the manic surfer.
<b> TYLER
</b> The modern savage. Guy's even
crazier than you, Johnny Utah.
C'mon.
They start to walk. The sky darkens as the sea finally
closes out completely. The Bodhisattva seems to levitate
through the shapeless mush to shore.
<b> ROACH (O.S.)
</b> Brah!
Suddenly a football whistles through the air above Utah's
head.
He watches as--
The Bodhisattva, board under arm, walking out of the
whitewater, makes a one-handed chest catch.
A few yards away two teams of SURFERS play football.
Utah gazes down the beach at the Bodhisattva.
Almost 30 years old, his body lean and hard as a tree
trunk. Hardness in the face accented by long Comanche
hair.
<b> BODHI
</b> Hey Tyler!
She whirls. Bodhi pumps his arm. Tyler jogs back for the
catch. Bullseye. She shoots Bodhi a look. Something
crosses her face.
Bodhi smiles. Tyler doesn't. Then it passes.
She chucks the ball to Utah.
Who drops his board and makes the catch in one move.
He SPINS the football on his fingertip, drops it on his
foot, kicks it up into his hands. Razzle dazzle. He
grins evilly.
<b>EXT. BEACH - NIGHT
</b>
Rimmed by a dozen car HEADLIGHTS at the edge of the sand.
Utah crouches, waiting for the snap from NATHANIEL,
ponytailed and powerfully built. Facing them on defense
are Bodhi, Tyler and three others: ROACH, gonzo and
spiked-haired. GROMMET... 17 and thin as a stick, and
ROSIE, a biker with piggy eyes and arms blue with tattoos.
MONTAGE STYLE -- Utah tosses a flurry of mindboggling
passes. Every one picture perfect. Nathaniel scrambles
z-out left, turns and the ball is practically waiting for
him. Touchdowns galore. Endzone dancing. Bodhi stares
at him curiously.
Tyler rushes. Utah enjoys scrambling, ducking left and
right, twisting her into a pretzel. Play after play.
Utah tosses another touchdown, but Tyler keeps coming.
Sacking him.
They lie together in a heap, laughing.
Bodhi quarterbacks. Utah rushes. Bodhi fakes a pass then
runs, ball tucked in his arm. Utah tears after him. Flat
out speed run.
Roach attempts a block. Utah hits him like a freight
train.
Roach hits the sand face first.
Grommet and Rosie the biker in a squeeze play.
Utah, fierce now, blasts between them. No mercy.
Utah can't play for fun. We see his expression.
Something scary there. What we will call "juggernaut
mode".
Tyler just steps aside.
Bodhi running along wet sand as a wave sweeps up the
beach. Looks back. Sees a demon shooting up roostertails
of spray behind him, gaining. Pours it on. Both of them
pistoning through curtains of water. Not a game anymore.
Closing on the endzone. 5 yards. Utah is airborne.
SLAMS BODHI LIKE A SAM MISSILE. They crash and burn
together in the surf.
The other surfers run up. Who's this newcomer that just
centerpunched their main man? Industrial strength
tension.
<b> ROACH
</b> The fuck you doin' man?! You
fuckin' crazy?
Bodhi flashes a million dollar smile.
<b> BODHI
</b> Chill, brah. You know who this is?
Johnny Utah. Ohio State, all-
conference.
(to Utah)
Rose Bowl three years ago. Right?
Johnny nods. Tyler looks at him -- no shit?
<b> ROACH
</b> Johnny fuckin' Utah! Fuckin'-A!
Yeah, I remember that game, man.
You were on-fire. They could not
stop your ass.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Radical! Head-butt, dude!!
Johnny gestures "Please no".
Enthused by the concept, Grommet turns to Nathaniel.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Head-butt!!!
They do. Their foreheads CRACK together. They stumble
backwards in giddy euphoria. Nathaniel laughs like Pee
Wee Herman.
<b> BODHI
</b> Something happened. You got nuked
in the last quarter.
<b> UTAH
</b> Yeah, my knee got folded about 90
degrees the wrong way.
<b> BODHI
</b> And that's why you never went pro?
<b> UTAH
</b> Two years of surgery. I missed my
window. Limped through law school
instead.
<b> BODHI
</b> Mmm. A lawyer, huh?
(like it's a disease)
Too bad. But at least you're
surfing now. So your life's not
over yet, right?
<b> UTAH
</b> Not yet.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. FEDERAL BUILDING - 16TH FLOOR - DAY
</b>
Utah, in shorts and T-shirt, carries his flame-job
surfboard past surveillance cameras and portraits of Bush,
Hoover and Webster. Special Agent Cole walks by. Eyes
the board. Speaks deadpan.
<b> COLE
</b> Like totally rad stick, dude.
<b>INT. BULLPEN
</b>
Utah tries to act casual as he carries the board to his
desk on the other side of the room. He has to walk past
the entire gauntlet to get there.
<b> SEVERAL AGENTS
</b> Gnarly, man... hang ten...
cowabunga... surf patrol... rip it
up!
Harp comes straight for him like a homing missile.
<b> HARP
</b> How was the beach?
<b> UTAH
</b> Fine.
<b> HARP
</b> Surf conditions okay?
<b> UTAH
</b> A little mushy.
<b> HARP
</b> A little mushy! You think the
taxpayers would like it, Utah, if
they knew they were paying a federal
agent to surf and pick up girls?
<b> UTAH
</b> Babes.
<b> HARP
</b> What?
<b> UTAH
</b> The correct term is babes, sir. Uh,
this type of undercover operation is
entirely dependent on picking up the
idiom of the speech. Otherwise
penetration is not possible, sir.
Of the social infrastructure, I
mean.
Harp inhales through his nose. A bad sign.
<b> HARP
</b> Where is Pappas?
Utah points across the room. Harp turns.
PAPPAS, sitting behind his desk in his "Surf This" T-shirt
and pink shorts, lifts the purple Vuarnets like Tom Cruise
in Risky Business.
Looks directly at Harp. Smiles innocently.
<b>INT. HARP'S OFFICE
</b>
Harp paces. Type-A suppressed rage.
Utah and Pappas endure Harp's wrath.
<b> HARP
</b> Special Agent Utah, this is not some
job flippin' burgers at the drive-in.
Yes, the surfboard bothers me. Yes,
your approach to this case bothers
me. And yes, you bother me. You
two have produced squat in the last
two weeks, during which time the Ex-
Presidents have robbed two more
banks!! Do you have anything even
remotely interesting to tell me?
<b> UTAH
</b> Caught my first tube this morning.
Pappas signals, unseen by Harp, for Utah to shut the fuck
up.
<b>INT. CORRIDOR TO COMPUTER ROOM
</b>
Johnny and Angelo walking.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> What, you couldn't have just left
the thing in your car?
<b> UTAH
</b> It sticks out, so I can't lock it.
Look, Angelo, you think I joined the
FBI to learn to surf? This was your
lame-o idea in the first place. You
gotta back me up on this.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Johnny, all I can say is we better
come up with something real soon.
Johnny cocks an eyebrow and opens the door to the computer
room ceremonially, like a doorman at the Ritz-Carlton.
Miss Deer looks up as they enter.
<b>INT. COMPUTER ROOM
</b>
TIGHT ON CRT as a lab report scrolls up the screen. Gas
chromatography and spectroanalysis. Columns of elements
and compounds, listed as percentage-of-sample.
<b> MISS DEER (V.O.)
</b> Encino Savings & Loan guard grabbed
LBJ's ponytail. We recovered one
hair.
WIDER, showing Utah and Pappas over her shoulder at the
terminal.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Yeah, yeah, I remember, last year.
Guy got his jaw broken for it.
<b> MISS DEER
</b> One four centimeter strand. Color
brown. Oily. Slight wave.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Hell, what're we waiting for, let's
go pick the guy up.
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo, pay attention. There's
gonna be a test afterward. Lab is
showing traces of toxins. PCBs.
Heavy elements... selenium, titanium
and arsenic.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Guy's the Toxic Avenger.
Utah is excited as he fits the pieces together for his
partner.
<b> UTAH
</b> The beaches are always being closed
because of waste spills, right? And
surfers are territorial. They stick
mostly to certain breaks. If we can
get some hair samples, and get a
match to a certain beach, we'd know
which break the Ex-Presidents surf.
You buyin' this?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> No. But let's do it, anyway. It's
gonna bug the shit out of Harp.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. LATIGO - DAY
</b>
Department of Health sign reads, "Beach Temporarily
Closed." Beyond it crashes a wasted northwest swell.
Two frustrated teenage SURFERS huddle underneath a towel.
Marijuana smoke seeps upward.
A sandaled FOOT enters frame and taps their leg. Angry
heads poke up from beneath the towel, nostrils and mouths
billowing smoke.
The two wear T-shirts which read "Passion for Slashin" and
"Psycho Stick".
PAPPAS smiles, standing there in his beach wear, trying to
blend in. He doesn't.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> When you two are done makin' out, I
need to talk to you.
<b> "PSYCHO-STICK" T-SHIRT
</b> Hey, I ain't no butt-bouncer, dude.
We're from the valley. Mall babes
'n shit.
The kids proudly high-five.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> I just want to know if you surf here
a lot.
<b> "PASSION FOR SLASHIN'" T-SHIRT
</b> Shit yeah, like totally everyday
when it's jammin'. What is this,
fucking narco entrapment or what,
dude?
Pappas flashes his FBI star. He whips out a pair of
scissors.
Brandishes them like some over-the-hill "Jason".
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Not exactly, dudes.
<b>EXT. COUNTY LINE - DAY
</b>
Row of SURFMOBILES parked along a cliff, facing the ocean,
doors open, stereos blasting, SURFERS hanging, sitting on
hoods.
Utah moves along the cars, looking surfed-out.
He's tanned, relaxed. Hair starting to bleach out. One
of the tribe.
<b> UTAH
</b> Whoa, brah, easy now... Don't move!
(Utah bends close,
reaching for Surf-
Rat's ear)
Got some huge sucker crawling into
your--
(he plucks at a tuft
of hair)
Got it! Uuuughhh.
<b> SURF-RAT
</b> Leave some fuckin' hair, man!
Utah squashes, then inspects the mysterious creepy-crawler
hidden in his palm. He wipes his hand on his towel, which
he keeps balled up in his other hand.
<b> SURF-RAT
</b> What was it?
<b> UTAH
</b> Saved your butt, bro. Close one.
Utah shivers in disgust, then coyly turns and walks away.
The surf-rat desperately pats his ear for traces.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. FORENSICS LAB - NIGHT
</b>
A long series of ENVELOPES are displayed on a desk. Each
has the name of a Southern California beach and is
attached to a forensic printout.
HALSEY inspects each envelope.
<b> HALSEY
</b> Naw, this isn't it.
UTAH holds up an envelope with a skinny woven ponytail
sticking out.
PAPPAS shrugs.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> He moved.
Halsey picks up an envelope marked "Latigo Beach".
<b> HALSEY
</b> PCBs, selenium, titanium, arsenic.
The percentages look right. Here's
a match.
<b> UTAH
</b> Latigo Beach.
Pappas grabs the envelope, studies it, crooks his head.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Surf's up, ace.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. LATIGO BEACH - DAY
</b>
EXTREME LONG LENS scans the beach from a height. A gray,
miserable day. Beach crowd thin except for diehards.
The image drifts across faces, BODIES. Surfers walking
with boards.
Talking, sitting with pubescent girls.
The image settles on Johnny, astride his board, bobbing
beyond the break.
ON PAPPAS, scanning with powerful binoculars from his car.
CLOSE ON UTAH, out among the flock of hardcore surfers.
Ostensibly waiting for a wave, his eyes search the others
around him, clicking methodically from face to face.
Finally he swings his board around and awkwardly catches a
ride.
The modest wave carries him toward the beach as he
balances, tense and style-less.
He passes someone we've seen before. The RAZORHEAD from
the first day. In concentration, Johnny doesn't see the
guy.
But Razorhead definitely sees him.
JOHNNY reaches the beach and jogs up the sand. He picks
up a towel and talks into it as he dries his hair. A
glimpse of the walkie-talkie hidden beneath.
<b> UTAH
</b> Big zippo so far. How about you?
<b> PAPPAS (RADIO)
</b> Patience hotshot. Patience. It'll
be subtle, if it's here at all.
PAPPAS WATCHES as Johnny crosses toward the outside shower
next to the public restroom.
LONG LENS view of Utah passing OUT OF SIGHT behind the
building.
AT THE SHOWER Johnny sets down his gear and opens his
wetsuit to the warm, salt-free jet of water. TRACKING
SLOWLY IN on him as he lets it pour over his face.
A HAND ENTERS FRAME, shutting off the water suddenly.
TIGHT ON UTAH, his eyes opening.
REVERSE, revealing RAZORHEAD and THREE OTHERS.
They are powerfully built SURF-NAZIS.
Scalps shaved on the sides. Hair military short on top,
lengthening into pigtails in the back. Tattoos. Wrist
chains.
TONE, ARCHBOLD and WARCHILD. The one who socked Utah
before is BUNKER. They spread out flanking him.
<b> WARCHILD
</b> This the guy?
<b> BUNKER
</b> Yeah.
<b> UTAH
</b> (good natured)
Okay, so this is where you tell me
all about how locals rule and yuppie
insects like me shouldn't be surfing
your break and all that, right?
<b> BUNKER
</b> No.
<b> TONE
</b> Waste of time.
<b> WARCHILD
</b> We're just going to fuck you up.
<b> UTAH
</b> Oh.
As they lunge, Utah grabs his board and swings it in a
whistling roundhouse. Its edge slams Warchild in the gut
and folds him double. The bad news is... Warchild gets an
arm around it and brings a pile-driver hammer-punch down.
The board splits into two pieces.
Utah drops his end as the others close. A flurry of
punches and kicks, most of which he blocks. But he's lost
the offensive.
Bunker takes him to his knees with a vicious karate-style
side-kick.
TIGHT ON Utah's towel, talking with Pappas' voice.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Johnny? You there?
ANGELO gets out of the car fast. He jogs twenty feet and
raises the binoculars. Catches a glimpse of the carnage
around the edge of the building. Breaks into a run,
massive legs pistoning.
JOHNNY HITS THE GROUND hard. He rolls and comes up fast.
The razorhead brothers are a little surprised.
<b> ARCHBOLD
</b> The dude can fight!
Warchild grabs Utah from behind. Gets him in a headlock.
Archbold and Tone pin his arms. Bunker starts working him
like a practice bag. At this moment, Johnny is getting
the proverbial shit beat out of him.
SUDDENLY, a new figure blurs INTO FRAME.
BODHI seizes Bunker and flings him aside. He spins with
remarkable agility and drives his heel into Warchild's
face.
Utah breaks free, staggering back on the sand. The fight
is still there in his eyes.
Bodhi is at his side -- holding the others at bay with a
raised hand and an evil look.
<b> BODHI
</b> Back off! Now!! Just let it go!
<b> BUNKER
</b> Stay outta this, Bodhi!
<b> BODHI
</b> He's with me. Now back off.
Seriously.Just do it!
(they relax slightly)
You alright Warchild?
<b> WARCHILD
</b> (holding his bleeding
nose)
Fuck you.
Everybody has backed off a bit, panting.
Utah steps toward Bunker. Like he's maybe going to shake
hands.
<b> UTAH
</b> What's your name?
<b> BUNKER
</b> Bunker.
<b> UTAH
</b> Well, listen, Bunker... I'm actually
kinda glad you found me.
<b> BUNKER
</b> Yeah? Why?
Johnny answers with a LIGHTNING ROUNDHOUSE that hits with
a CRACK! They can hear it in Pomona.
BUNKER HITS THE GROUND. Flat out. Lights out.
Tone, Archbold and Warchild lunge like dogs.
Bodhi yanks Utah out of the line of fire.
<b> BODHI
</b> Whoa! Whoa! Hold it, ladies. Give
it a rest.
(to Utah)
Let's go.
He literally turns Utah around.
They begin to walk, stepping over the pieces of Johnny's
board.
<b> BODHI
</b> (under his breath)
Do me a favor, Johnny, just keep
walking.
Tone starts to go after them. Archbold grabs his arm.
They help Bunker up. Warchild holds he bleeding nose.
Utah and Bodhi start up the stairs, turn a corner and run
HEAD-ON into a huffing PAPPAS.
The big man clocks a battered but intact Utah.
We see him shift gears in his head in 2 tenths of a
second.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> (out of breath)
Uh, you guys seen a kid, maybe 10,
12, running with a car stereo?
Stole the fucking CD too, you
believe it?
Utah is grateful for the cover.
<b> UTAH
</b> No, but there are four guys back
there you might check out.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Thanks, buddy.
He shoves on.
<b>EXT. PARKING LOT
</b>
Bodhi and Utah weave among the cars and motorcycles,
beach-types coming and going.
<b> UTAH
</b> Friends of yours, huh?
<b> BODHI
</b> The one you decked is Bunker Wiess.
The big one is his brother,
Warchild. The other two always
hang. They think they're some kinda
death squad around here.
<b> UTAH
</b> What's their program?
<b> BODHI
</b> They're punks. Nazis. Their brains
are wired wrong. They hurt surfing
because they give nothing back, and
they have no respect for the sea.
They just want to get radical. It's
mindless aggression. They'll never
get it, the spiritual side of it.
<b> UTAH
</b> You always talk like this? You're
not gonna start chanting or anything
are you?
<b> BODHI
</b> (laughing)
No.
(beat)
So I was up the beach. I saw it
going down. you didn't hesitate...
they never backed you up an inch.
That's rare in this world.
<b> UTAH
</b> Thanks for stepping in.
<b> BODHI
</b> De nada.
Bodhi keeps on walking as Utah reaches his car and stops.
Five paces on, he stops and turns back. A moment of
decision...
<b> UTAH
</b> Gonna be some people at my house
tonight. Maybe you can make it.
<b> UTAH
</b> Where?
<b> BODHI
</b> Come with Tyler. She knows.
Bodhi turns and saunters away. Utah considers his last
words, wondering how well Tyler and Bodhi know each other.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT./ EXT. CAR - PCH - SANTA MONICA - DAY
</b>
Utah is struggling into a T-shirt as Pappas drives,
intently following a beat-to-shit JEEP. Paramilitary
olive-drab and full of surfboards. And razorhead.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Ten seconds you're out of sight.
Unbelievable.
Johnny is equipment-juggling now... cradling a cellular
phone at his ear while steadying Pappas' binoculars in
front of his eyes.
<b> UTAH
</b> You're losin' them.
(into phone)
That's right. Two-denver-four-sam-
niner-five-niner. Late seventies
Jeep.
LONG LENS, JOHNNY'S POV through binoculars. Bunker's jeep
weaves aggressively through traffic ahead. Horns honk.
Tone flips off the driver of a Toyota.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Look, if you're gonna go leavin'
your piece and your shield in the
car, you can damn well stay in
sight. Okay?
<b> UTAH
</b> Okay, Dad.
<b>EXT. VENICE STREET - DAY
</b>
Low rent street off Washington.
EXTREME LONG LENS on Jeep as it pulls onto the dead front
lawn of a brown stucco house with bars on the windows.
The razorheads get out, pulling boards and wetsuits from
the Jeep. They are dressed now in ripped jeans, GI boots,
sleeveless Megadeth T-shirts, etc.
Watching, we become aware that two of them have brown hair
in a radical style... shaved sides and a short ponytail.
<b> UTAH (V.O.)
</b> The jeep is registered to a Bradley
Wiess. My buddy. Guy's got quite a
sheet.
(into phone)
Yeah, yeah... skip all that. Gimme
the greatest hits. Misdemeanor
possession of cocaine. That's
good...
<b>INT./ EXT. CAR
</b>
Utah on the cellular, Pappas behind the wheel as they
slide to a stop half a block from the stucco house.
<b> UTAH
</b> ... Felony B and E, three months in
juvey. Better. Felony assault.
Postgraduate work at Chino.
Excellent. I'm lovin' it. What
about the brother?
(Utah is grinning)
Great! Another model citizen.
These guys really fit the profile.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Remember, all bank robbers are
losers, but not all losers are bank
robbers.
LONG LENS POV of Razorheads house. Through the windows we
see the four moving inside. Tone throws Archbold and
Bunker a Coors from the fridge. Archbold shakes his and
opens it in Warchild's face. Warchild, in no mood, slams
him against the wall. We feel the revved-up, chaotic
energy of the group in silent pantomime.
Bunker is met by a GIRL coming from the back of the house.
She is wearing only panties and a black leather vest.
Short black hair and tattoos stark on her white skin.
Bunker puts one arm around her neck in a head lock embrace
and slides his other hand under her vest. Tone pulls the
curtains.
<b> UTAH
</b> These are the guys. I can feel it.
I say we lay it on Harp.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. STREET NEAR HOUSE - NIGHT
</b>
TELEPHOTO VIEW of house.
Bunker and Archbold have partially disassembled the engine
of a Kawasaki 1100 parked in the living room. They are
drinking beer and arguing about the carburetors, lit by
the blue glow of the TV. Warchild is watching a living-
dead movie on tape.
He replays the gory parts. Not a happening night at the
Razorheads.
REVERSE, as binoculars are lowered, revealing Cole.
WIDER, to show the dynamic team of Cole and Munoz
glowering in a plain sedan, Utah leaning in the side
window.
<b> MUNOZ
</b> This is bullshit. This is a
bullshit lead. This is totally
bullshit. Harp must be fucking
desperate if he's listening to you
two flakes.
<b> UTAH
</b> See you bright and early, guys.
Pappas walks up with a grease-stained box. Jams it
through the window.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Cold pizza? It's great for
breakfast.
<b>INT./ EXT. PAPPAS' CAR - NIGHT
</b>
Pappas pulls away from the curb, roaring past the other
agents sedan. Utah and Cole flip each other off
perfunctorily as they pass.
<b> UTAH
</b> When did Harp say they'd have the
warrant?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> He's pushing it through first thing.
You better get some sleep tonight,
it could be an interesting morning.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BODHI'S HOUSE - NIGHT
</b>
A bunker-like structure built of stone and glass on a
cliff overlooking the Pacific. Surfmobiles and
motorcycles parked in front. A strong backbeat thumps
through the open front doors.
Tyler's Porsche pulls into the driveway. She and Johnny
get out and head for the entrance.
<b> UTAH
</b> Nice place.
<b> TYLER
</b> He rents it for the summer. Bodhi
always gets some slick place and
throws it open to every surf burnout
around. Most a these guys can't
keep a job. When the swell comes,
they're gone, they have to ride.
<b>INT./ EXT. BODHI'S HOUSE
</b>
Tyler leads Utah through the steady flow of SURF-RATS and
other PCH NOMADS toward a large outdoor deck where a
barbecue is in progress. Moonlit waves pound the shore
eighty feet below.
They are immediately distracted by the small crowd
gathering around GROMMET who has his nose pressed flat
against the center of a dart board.
His eyes swivels back to ROACH, standing fifteen feet
away, dart in hand, getting ready to throw.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Do your worst, man!
Roach drains a beer in one gulp, spies the sharp needle
point of the dart, then squints at the target.
ROSIE moves through the small crowd collecting bets.
Suddenly Roaches arm snaps back. A collective hush...
In a blur of tattoos the small feathered missile is
airborne.
TWAAAPPPPPP! Bulls-eye. Centimeters from flesh. Grommet
secretly exhales. Roach howls as Rosie rains money on his
head.
The crowd goes wild.
BODHI stands nearby with his arm around a BEAUTIFUL WOMAN.
Pleased to see Utah, he motions him over.
<b> UTAH
</b> Don't you gamble?
<b> BODHI
</b> Only make bets I can't afford to
lose. Only way to be 100%
committed.
With that, Bodhi smiles, then he and the woman vanish into
the crowd. Utah watches them go, turns to Tyler.
<b> UTAH
</b> Who's the girl?
<b> TYLER
</b> Catch of the day.
<b> UTAH
</b> Oh, oh. That sounds personal.
<b> TYLER
</b> People are expendable to Bodhi.
<b> UTAH
</b> Meaning you were expendable.
<b> TYLER
</b> (shrugs)
We went out for about five
minutes... which is four minutes
longer than most of them. But you
can't hold it against him, he's...
different.
<b> UTAH
</b> Sure, he's "the Bodhisattva".
<b> TYLER
</b> (she chuckles)
Yeah, he thinks he's evolved to a
higher plane of existence, or
something.
(thoughtful)
Maybe he has. You've seen him
surf... that frenzy. It seems like
anger. It's not. It's the energy
of lovemaking. The sea is the woman
in his life. She's his only true
lover.
Utah studies her a moment. He's caught the faintest hint
of regret in her voice. But also the straight-ahead
pragmatism. He looks down at the waves pounding
mercilessly against the rocks.
<b> UTAH
</b> All she does is beat the shit out of
me.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>PARTY - LATER
</b>
Lingering surf-rats stoned and drunk.
Nathaniel stands on the railing of the deck, Corona in
hand, gazing out at the black water. He grins sloppily,
body wavering dangerously as he hunkers down into a
surfing stance.
<b> NATHANIEL
</b> (beer soaked speech)
... Okay, so you're in the face,
it's twenty-five feet straight down,
your balls are about this big.
(like he's holding up
two BB's)
And the whole thing's moving, right,
roaring like you're stuck to the
front of a freight train. There
ain't nothin' like it, man. The
ultimate rush. Forget about sex, it
doesn't even come close.
<b> ROACH
</b> You lose it right then, you're
history. The fish'll be pickin' you
outta the coral.
Nathaniel cackles that absurd Pee-Wee Herman laugh. He
starts to flail, arms pinwheeling.
Utah catches him by the back of the shorts and pulls him
back. Nathaniel spins and drops clumsily onto the deck.
<b> NATHANIEL
</b> (matter of factly)
Thanks, brah.
Tyler sits next to Johnny, sipping a beer. Bodhi is not
in sight.
<b> ROACH
</b> See, it's all dynamic, it's all in
motion. You can't just stop and
walk on in to the beach if you don't
like the way things are going, y'
know what I mean? You gotta ride it
out man, all the way.
<b> GROMMET
</b> You ride the monsters, you gotta
know you're ridin' a line between
life and death. There ain't no
forgiveness.
<b> UTAH
</b> So what's the biggest? Waimea?
<b> BODHI (V.O.)
</b> No, Bells Beach, Australia.
Bodhi glides into the group and sits, his expression dark
and enigmatic. The beautiful girl kneels behind him,
massaging his neck. He seems not to notice.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Shit, yeah! I remember that day...
gnarly fuckin' ass! Was your
birthday--
<b> ROACH
</b> The set was northwest. Jacking up
like a fucking mountain of gray
glass--
<b> BODHI
</b> I made that one mistake you pray
you'll never make--
<b> NATHANIEL
</b> You shoulda fuckin' seen it... it
was like he fell for-ever. Then the
curl crashes down and he's gooone--
<b> GROMMET
</b> -- held down in the washing machine,
man... it was severe, we couldn't
see nothin' thought it was all over
for sure--
Nathaniel HOWLS.
Tyler watches Utah watching Bodhi. Notices how he is
mesmerized by these war stories. Bodhi smiles,
unexpectedly.
<b> BODHI
</b> Not tragic to die doing what you
love. You want the ultimate thrill,
you gotta be willing to pay the
ultimate price.
<b> NATHANIEL
</b> Fuckin' A.
<b> GROMMET
</b> (draining a Corona)
Hell, I ain't gonna see 30.
He and Nathaniel slap a warm, brotherly handshake.
Utah notices that Tyler is giving him a dark look.
She gets up suddenly and walks away from the group.
<b> UTAH
</b> (to the surfers,
covering)
Uh. I need another beer.
He heads out after Tyler.
<b>INT. HALLWAY - DEN
</b>
Johnny moves through the house, looking for her. As he
passes the den, he sees Tyler standing inside, and goes
into the dark room.
It is the only personalized space we have seen in the
house.
A kind of shrine to the Bodhisattva.
Shelves filled with books and artifacts from his travels.
Maori masks, a blowgun, a skeletal shark mouth two feet
across, a huge fossil ammonite... an unbelievable variety
of tribal artifacts and marine specimens.
The books include political literature, eastern religion,
philosophy. A strange hodgepodge of titles and authors:
Nietzsche, Marx, the Tao, "Steal this Book", "The Book of
Five Rings", Frederick Forsyth thrillers.
Tyler is looking at a wall of photographs and Johnny walks
up behind her. Shots of Bodhi surfing a monster wave,
mountain-biking, skydiving, flying an ultralight airplane,
bungee-cord jumping, cliff diving.
Every kamikaze activity in the book.
<b> TYLER
</b> Bunch of goddamn adrenaline junkies.
I hope you're not buying into this
banzai-bullshit like the rest of
Bodhi's moonies.
<b> UTAH
</b> What are you talking about?
<b> TYLER
</b> I've seen that kamikaze look,
Johnny. You've got it. And Bodhi
can smell it a mile away. He'll
take you to the edge... and past it.
(she looks past
Johnny, sees
something)
Hey, Bodhi.
Utah turns. Bodhi is in the doorway.
<b> BODHI
</b> Johnny has his own demons, don't
you, Johnny?
Bodhi seems to stare into him.
Utah breaks the look. Turns back to the photo gallery.
Bodhi's eyes swivel. He ponders something. Looks at
Tyler.
<b> BODHI
</b> Feel it?
Roach and some of the other surfers appear in the hallway,
wondering what happened to their leader. He turns to
them.
<b> BODHI
</b> Gentlemen, it's time.
HOOT AND CHEERS. Everyone bursts into motion. Yelling
and running through the house.
<b> UTAH
</b> What's goin' on?
<b> TYLER
</b> Swell's here, Johnny. Bodhi always
knows.
Bodhi returns from another room with... AN ALL-BLACK
SURFBOARD. It gleams like obsidian. Near the tip, in
small gray letters it says "Stealth Fighter". Bodhi
thrusts it into Johnny's hands.
The others WHOOP maniacally.
Johnny feels the challenge. The pull of the tribe.
<b> BODHI
</b> Let's go, Utah. Time for a little
stealth mission.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. LATIGO BEACH - NIGHT
</b>
SIX DARK FIGURES walk toward us out of shafts of light...
the headlights of Bodhi's CHEVY 4WD and Tyler's Porsche.
The figures are Bodhi, Johnny, Tyler and the other
surfers.
ROSIE hangs back with the idling vehicles, tattooed arms
crossed. He puffs on a cigarette.
A WIDE SHOT (MATTE) of the beach shows a pool of light
from the headlights, beyond it a vast silver ocean under a
black sky. The full moon casts the world in cold
monochrome. The little figures reach the sea.
<b> ROACH
</b> (a voice in the
distance)
Gaping barrels! Way overhead, man!
CLOSER, as moonlit figures run into the water.
Utah stands on the beach, hoping his eyes will adjust.
<b> UTAH
</b> I can barely do this in broad
daylight.
<b> TYLER
</b> Come on. At least no one's gonna
see how bad you are.
Johnny clenches his jaw and charges past her into the
water.
He strokes powerfully out through the black swell.
UTAH'S EBONY BOARD pierces the wave and he slides down the
backside to where the others are waiting. Roach and
Nathaniel, silhouettes nearby, see one they like and take
off yelling.
Johnny turns as a figure glides up next to him.
<b> UTAH
</b> I gotta be fucking crazy.
<b> BODHI
</b> Yeah, but are you crazy enough?
Grommet gets a ride, slicing across in front of them.
A ghost moving off into the silvery distance.
Tyler waves jauntily and takes the next one. It's
Johnny's turn.
<b> BODHI
</b> Football's a man-made game. You
keep score with numbers. But in
this, there's no field, no rules, no
opponent. Just you and the wave.
<b> UTAH
</b> I know that part. Tell me something
I can use, here.
<b> BODHI
</b> I've watched you once or twice. You
surf like it's some kind of street
fight. You jerk along from moment
to moment, fighting everything that
comes at you. Always trying to win.
<b> UTAH
</b> A flaw I'm working on.
<b> BODHI
</b> The only way to win out here is to
surrender. You have to feel what
the wave is doing, accept its
energy, get in sync. Just feel it
all moving in the blackness... you
don't need to see.
<b> UTAH
</b> Yeah, right, vision is highly over-
rated.
Bodhi is looking at the lights along the shoreline.
Without looking back, he senses the incoming swell.
<b> BODHI
</b> This one's got your name on it,
Johnny.
Utah looks. Huge glassy face, perfectly formed. Black
and terrifying.
<b> BODHI
</b> Let's go.
Bodhi digs in with both hands, driving himself forward.
Johnny starts grabbing water right behind him. The wave
picks them up.
<b> UTAH
</b> Shit, I'm gonna die. I'm gonna die
now.
Johnny uses the patented Tyler-pop and makes it to his
feet. Suddenly he's going like a shot.
He moves back on the board, trims out, slowing down.
Maintains a fragile control.
On pure adrenalized instinct, heart pounding, he falls in
behind Bodhi, taking the same line along the roaring black
face.
Bodhi is like the Silver Surfer, ahead of him in the
moonlight.
Not wanting to drop too far behind, Johnny walks a little
forward on the board. The nose dips, picking up speed.
Johnny starts letting the speed work for him, learning
that he can make long floating turns up and down the
glassy face.
Feeling the water under his feet, the tons of water piling
up behind him... feeling its awesome power and borrowing a
little of it.
The Silver Surfer and the quarterback rocket through the
night.
Utah has a big feral grin plastered on his face.
Bodhi looks back. Gives him a thumbs up.
Then he cuts left and drops giddily down to the bottom,
slashing back and climbing.
Utah tries it, feels the drop like freefall... feels the
speed.
He makes his bottom turn, nearly falling.
The grin dropping off his face.
He falls in behind Bodhi again as the wave wraps over them
like a great black wing.
TYLER, paddling back out, watches them shoot past her.
Utah raises his arms above his head and HOWLS like a gonzo
wolf as they go by.
She grins to herself, watching him.
Knows he's gotten the ride that will make him a surfer for
life.
<b>EXT. BEACH PARKING LOT
</b>
Rosie sits on the sand next to a blazing fire in a cement
firepit.
ANGLE THROUGH THE HEAT HAZE above the flames. Tyler
punches through, a few feet away. She paddles toward him,
coming alongside.
<b> TYLER
</b> You had enough?
<b> UTAH
</b> Yeah. I just want to sit out here
for a minute.
He watches the lights along the shoreline as the gentle
swell between sets lifts and drops them. His face is
somehow childlike.
A slow grin spreads itself across his face.
<b> TYLER
</b> Look at you.
<b> UTAH
</b> What?
<b> TYLER
</b> Well, usually you have this sort of
intense scowl of concentration, like
you're doing this for a school
project or something... I don't
know, like something's driving you.
(she puts her
fingertip to his
forehead)
See, it's gone. If I didn't know
better I'd say you looked almost
happy.
<b> UTAH
</b> I... I don't know. I can't describe
what I'm feeling.
<b> TYLER
</b> (smiling)
You don't have to.
Her face seems luminous in the moonlight. The ocean
silver. The shore a shimmering line of gold. The sky
black velvet.
Utah turns to Tyler, eyes exploring her, as in a dream.
Water beads on her dark skin like crawling diamonds.
He glides closer, holding her board like an uneasy horse
alongside his.
He runs his fingertips down her arm.
<b> UTAH
</b> Goosebumps. Come here.
She leans closer and he rubs his hands up and down her
arms, warming her. His hands stop on her shoulders.
He pulls her to his mouth. Her tongue meets his.
She wants this.
He is surprised by the fierceness of her kiss, which
overwhelms his.
TIGHT ON THE ZIPPER of her shorty wetsuit as Johnny's
fingers draw it down. Slowly down, to where it ends
between her legs.
He spreads the front and slips his hands inside, along her
ribs.
<b> TYLER
</b> Those are cold.
<b> UTAH
</b> Warm them up.
She moves his strong hand onto her breast.
His fingers massage her cold-stiffened nipple.
She moans and grabs his wet hair in her other hand,
pulling him into another intense kiss.
<b>EXT. OCEAN - UNDERWATER
</b>
Looking up from the bottom, we see the silhouettes of two
boards surrounded by pulsing shafts of moonlight.
CAMERA TILTS DOWN to show the bottom.
The dreamlike blue light shimmering on the sand and rocks.
A big shark browses gracefully, ignoring the lovers.
Their moment of harmony with the sea will be honored.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BEACH - NIGHT
</b>
Tyler's Porsche stands alone in an empty lot.
Her surfboard sticks up in back, next to Utah's "stealth
fighter".
Rosie's fire is burning low.
Tyler, half-wrapped in a blanket from the car, straddles
Johnny on the sand like she straddles her board. The
blanket slips down.
Naked silhouettes in the firelight.
She arches her back as they move together in prefect sync.
Grips his shoulders and stares into his face, her teeth
bared in a grimace of pleasure that looks like pain.
She makes love like she does everything... with honesty
and intensity.
Utah, surprisingly, is gentle and slow.
He strokes her hair after she collapses onto him.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BEACH - DAWN
</b>
ECU JOHNNY as he cracks one eye open, registering the dawn
light.
He bolts up, looking around. Tyler is asleep beside him,
with the quilt from the car pulled up tight to her chin.
She looks radiant in sleep.
He grabs his watch out of the sand and looks at it.
<b> UTAH
</b> Holy shit.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. ALLEY BEHIND RAZORHEAD HOUSE
</b>
LONG LENS on UTAH'S SEDAN fishtailing through the alley,
narrowly missing dumpsters and parked cars.
He pulls up next to several unmarked FBI sedans. No one
in sight.
UTAH jumps out tucking in yesterday's shirt, stuffing his
Beretta into his waistband. He also shoves a small
leather case into his belt.
Utah pulls open the door to one of the unmarked cars and
rips a walkie-talkie out of the charging rack on the front
seat.
Running, he passes a gate. Goes back. Looks.
HIS POV -- FOUR MEN huddled behind a garage. COLE, MUNOZ,
AND TWO OTHER AGENTS. All with guns and walkie-talkies.
<b> UTAH
</b> (whispering)
You guys need any help?
<b> COLE
</b> (not amused)
You're late.
We hear Pappas' voice over the radio.
<b> PAPPAS (V.O.)
</b> Did that worthless punk partner of
mine ever show up?
<b> UTAH
</b> (grinning)
Right here, partner.
<b>EXT. STREET - NEARBY
</b>
Pappas has his shirt hiked up as another agent, BABBIT,
tapes a microphone transmitter to his stomach. Pappas
talks into his top button.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Good of you to join us, hotshot.
(to Babbit)
Watch it. I told you, not on the
hairs, goddammit.
Babbit moves the transmitter, putting the tape on
differently.
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm ready to rock, Angelo. Where
you want me?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Cole and Munoz are going in the back
door. Babbit is backing me. So I
want you at the side window by the
hedge. You're strictly backup, got
it?
<b> UTAH
</b> Got it.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Awright. Get into position. I'm
rolling.
Pappas pulls the loose Hawaiian shirt down over the radio-
mike gear and his stalwart .38 snub.
He steps out from behind a fence and walks along the
sidewalk toward Bunker's house, two doors down. He is
wearing polyester shorts and sandals, and carrying a DOG
<b>LEASH.
</b>
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Here Scooby! Where are you boy?
Here Scooby!! You furball piece of
shit.
COLE AND MUNOZ snap around the corner of the garage and
sprint low toward the rear of the brown stucco house.
UTAH circles back out through the alley. TRACKING WITH
HIM as he makes it to the neighbor's back hedge and crab-
walks toward Bunker's house. BABBIT and ANOTHER AGENT
make it to the front corner of the stucco house, staying
out of sight of the windows.
ANGELO is walking up to the falling-down porch of this
low-rent roach-hotel.
JOHNNY is elbow-crawling between the house and a tall
hedge.
He slides quietly in below a bedroom window.
He pulls out the little leather kit he tucked in his
waistband. Removes something from it. A DENTAL MIRROR.
Moving slowly, he raises it above the window sill, angling
it where he can see inside.
TIGHT ON DENTAL MIRROR, Johnny's POV.
We see a bedroom through a gap in the venetian blind.
Tone is lying on the bed, wearing headphones. Cranked up
speedmetal.
His eyes are screwed shut, and his fists pump to the beat
like karate on 40,000 volts.
The door to a bathroom is open, and the black-haired girl
can be made out behind rippled shower glass.
TIGHT ON DOORBELL as Pappas rings it.
UTAH JUMPS at an explosion of sound. He spins in a
microsecond, pistol aimed at... A LAWN MOWER.
Through the hedge we can just see THE NEIGHBOR, sixtyish
and polyester clad, as he adjusts the choke on the roaring
machine about two feet from Johnny's face. Utah exhales
and lowers the gun. Wipes sweat from his eyes.
TIGHT ON PAPPAS, smiling open-faced and goofily charming
as...
THE DOOR opens, revealing a GIRL we haven't seen before.
She has hair like bleached fiberglass, black eye-makeup
and nails. Ramones-style wardrobe. She looks tense, and
won't open the door very far.
<b> FIBERGLASS
</b> Yeah? What?
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Have you seen a little dog? Kind of
a cockapoo lookin' thing. About
this big.
<b> FIBERGLASS
</b> No.
UTAH blinks at what he sees.
HIS POV, in the little mirror.
Like a silent pantomime under the ROAR OF THE MOWER, he
sees Bunker and Warchild come flying into the room.
They are hyper and manic. Eyes wild.
Bunker leaps clear over the bed.
Grabs a COMBAT SHOTGUN from the closet. Throws it to
Warchild. Tone is oblivious.
Bunker thumps him in the chest and Tone leaps up like an
overwound toy, gaping "What the fuck?!" we read his lips
saying.
Bunker grabs a STEYR ASSAULT RIFLE, white knuckled, while
Tone fumbles around and comes up with a .45 COLT AUTO.
<b> UTAH
</b> (into his headset)
Babbit. Get Angelo out of there.
They're pulling out a fucking
arsenal! Babbit, you copy? Cole?
Don't let him pull his badge!
<b>EXT. BACK YARD
</b>
Cole and Munoz push their earpieces in deeper. Scowl.
<b> MUNOZ
</b> Utah, say again. What?
(to Cole)
I can't hear jack shit over this
lawnmower. Christ.
<b>INT. RAZORHEAD'S HOUSE
</b>
In the bedroom, Bunker looks through a slit of door at
Fiberglass. We hear Pappas just outside.
<b> PAPPAS (V.O.)
</b> ... and the guy next door said he
saw it go into your backyard. My
wife'll kill me if I lose the little
bastard. Me, I could care less.
Whole house smells from it's liftin'
its leg all the time...
Bunker looks like he's on paranoia overdrive.
<b> BUNKER
</b> Something's goin' down, man. This
ain't right.
<b> TONE
</b> (freaked)
No, man, it's nothin'. It's
nothin'.
<b> BUNKER
</b> Will you shut the fuck up! Check
the windows. Do it!!
<b>EXT. RAZORHEAD'S HOUSE
</b>
Utah sucks up against the wall as Warchild looks furtively
out the window. We see them both, but Warchild doesn't
see Johnny, plastered right below him.
Johnny closes his eyes and grits his teeth. Shiiiiittt!
PAPPAS, AT THE FRONT DOOR, is bobbing his head, trying to
look inside.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> You sure he isn't out back? You
mind if I go take a look?
<b> FIBERGLASS
</b> Look, I don't know anything about
your dog, okay--
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Well is there anyone else here that
might have seen him?
<b> FIBERGLASS
</b> There's nobody else here...
<b>INT. HOUSE
</b>
Warchild slams into the wall next to Bunker.
<b> WARCHILD
</b> There's two guys by the back door.
Ducked down.
<b> TONE
</b> Oh, shit. Shit!! We're fucked,
man.
<b> BUNKER
</b> That fat fuck comes through the door
I'm gonna pump him up. Swear to
Christ, man, I'm gonna blow the dude
up!
Scared and vicious, like a cornered dog. We believe him.
Bunker jacks the bolt on the Steyr. Warchild cocks the
shotgun.
<b>EXT. HOUSE
</b>
JOHNNY is pissing himself. He can see it all going down.
So fast he doesn't have time to think.
He goes into motion -- slipping rapidly along the wall to
the next window.
The bathroom window.
PAPPAS, AT THE FRONT DOOR, makes his move.
He pushes the door open, breaking the security chain, and
jams his FBI shield in the girl's face as he grabs her
arm.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> FBI, gorgeous. Now let's take a
look around--
<b>INT. HOUSE
</b>
Bunker's eyes bug out as he sees Pappas coming through the
door. He snaps the assault rifle to his shoulder.
Suddenly Johnny is behind him -- half-in the bathroom
window, pistol gripped double-handed like they taught him
in Quantico.
<b> UTAH
</b><b> FBI!! DROP IT!
</b>
Bunker whips around. Squeezing off a wild burst! B-B-B-
<b>BLAM!
</b>It rips the plaster next to Johnny's shoulder.
Shatters the shower door behind him. The BLACK-HAIRED
GIRL screams.
Johnny flinches, FIRING RAPIDLY. Wild.
Bunker drops, hit.
Warchild lets go with the 12 gauge. KABOOM!
Takes a chunk like a shark bite out of the doorframe by
Johnny's head.
Deafening in the confined space.
Johnny flattens himself behind the doorframe.
Tone just splits. Down the hall like a greyhound.
PAPPAS is on one knee, his piece drawn fast, holding
Fiberglass in a neck-lock with one massive arm.
Bunker, wild-eyed and bleeding, is on his knees in the
bathroom doorway.
He raises the Steyr. Mistake.
Angelo FIRES. 30 years in the field tends to show.
Three rounds. Chest. Chest. Head.
Bunker is off the planet.
MUNOZ KICKS THE BACKDOOR IN like they do in the movies.
He and Cole charge into the rancid kitchen. Badass FBI
agents.
JOHNNY, hotwired and hyperventilating, pops out for a shot
around the doorframe. He gets a glimpse of Warchild's
back disappearing into the hallway. FIRES. His shot is
wasted, punching plaster.
Suddenly a pink freight-train hits him.
He forgot about the girl in the shower.
Naked except for her tattoos, she bodyslams him face-first
into the wall.
As he tries to turn she grabs his hair in both hands and
hammers his head into the medicine-cabinet -- CRASH --
shattering the mirror.
Then she knees him in the balls as he ricochets off the
wall into her.
She drives her elbow into his back as he drops.
"FREIGHT TRAIN" lands knee-first on his gun hand, and
viciously kicks the pistol away with one bloody foot. It
skitters under the bed.
She's cut up from flying glass. Demon-eyed and wired, her
body lithe and muscular under white skin. She sprints
across the bedroom, leaving Utah slumped, heaving for
breath.
IN THE HALLWAY, Tone is hidden behind a doorway.
White-knuckling the forty-five. A wild-eyed kid with a
big gun and not the slightest idea how to use it.
He hears footsteps POUNDING behind him and spins.
It's Warchild, running with the shot-gun.
<b> WARCHILD
</b> Move it, man. Let's get the fuck
out of here!
Off-guard, Tone is SLAMMED BY THE DOOR as Munoz drives
into it with his shoulder.
Pounded between the door and wall, Tone is wired so tight
he pulls the trigger and blows a hole through his own
right foot.
He screams and drops to the floor.
Munoz sandwiches him with the door and draws down on
Warchild, who dives into a doorway.
Cole drives past Munoz, who has Tone pinned, and pounds
down the corridor.
Cole reaches the doorway and goes for the shot on
Warchild.
"Freight-train" appears behind him from another door.
She raises a pair of scissors and drives them into his
back up to the hilt.
Pulls them out, going for another stab, when--
Pappas spins her around and slams her face-first into the
wall.
UTAH, in the bedroom, sees Warchild blur across his field
of vision.
On pure instinct, he kicks into overdrive. Johnny leaps
the bed and goes ballistic. His flying tackle catches
Warchild at the window.
<b>EXT. HOUSE
</b>
The window EXPLODES OUTWARD in a spray of sunlit glass.
Utah and Warchild crash to the ground.
The razorhead, with 50 pounds on Johnny, rises like a
bull.
Bleeding from superficial lacerations, Warchild plows
through the hedge.
Johnny dives after him.
The Polyester Neighbor stands paralyzed as the two crazed
figures careen toward him. He is knocked flying, and the
ROARING LAWNMOWER is flipped onto its side.
Utah and Warchild are locked together.
The shotgun lies nearby, out of play.
Warchild jerks a 6 INCH KNIFE free from its sheath,
hanging from a thong around his neck. He trusts straight
at Johnny's throat.
Johnny deflects the thrust -- INTO THE WHIRLING LAWNMOWER.
KA-WHANGGG!!! The knife is hammered out of Warchild's
hand.
Whistles away, spinning.
Warchild grabs Johnny as they scramble, and heaves him
bodily toward the spinning blade. Utah catches the rim of
the mower with both hands, stopping himself inches from
the rotor.
Warchild puts all his weight on Johnny.
Pushing him face-first toward the blades.
Johnny feels the wind on his face.
The engine is roaring, full throttle.
<b>PAPPAS APPEARS BEHIND THEM.
</b>He aims the .38. FIRES TWICE.
The little Briggs & Stratton dies young, its casing
shattered.
The rotor spins to a stop.
Warchild looks up into the black eye of Pappas' gun.
Two inched from his face.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Speak into the microphone.
The razorhead sags, the fight going out of him.
Babbit kicks him off Johnny, face down onto the lawn.
Cuffs him.
<b>INT. BATHROOM - BEDROOM - LATER
</b>
UTAH dry heaves over the sink. Turns the faucet on full
blast and hoses his head. He lifts a dripping face, wipes
water out of his eyes, stops on the reflection in the
mirror. Pappas is there.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> It's always been lasers and paper
targets until today, right?
Utah looks up at him and nods. He glances through the
doorway at Bunker, dead in a pool of blood. Tone is
wailing as paramedics work on his foot. Cole is being
taken out on a stretcher.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> No difference, Utah. Just a little
more to clean up.
(squeezes the
rookie's shoulder)
It's alright. You did good today.
Across the bedroom AGENT BABBIT rips the back off a big
speaker unit. Behind it, taped to the woofer, are two
large packets of a white substance.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Oh shit.
Utah stares at the dope.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. POLICE HQ - OUTSIDE INTERROGATION ROOM - NIGHT
</b>
TIGHT ON WARCHILD manacled to the chair screaming his head
off. We cannot hear him through the glass. It looks like
pantomime.
UTAH and PAPPAS watch through the one way observation
window.
THWAAAAAP!! The two taped packets slam the wall inches
from Utah's right ear. Johnny snaps his head around.
Stares into the face of DIETZ who looks like Warchild's
meaner brother.
And he's pissed as hell...
<b> DIETZ
</b> You know what this is?! Two keys
uncut crystal meth!
<b> UTAH
</b> What the hell's your problem?
Dietz manically grabs a clump of his stringy hair.
<b> DIETZ
</b> You think I like this haircut? My
wife wants me to stay at Ramada -- I
been working on these guys for THREE
MONTHS! Finally -- finally--
(nodding to Warchild)
-- I get dickwad in there wantin' to
play wheel of fortune so I can find
out their supplier!
HARP emerges from the interrogation room, we hear a sliver
of Warchild's battle cry. He spies Utah.
<b> HARP
</b> This is agent Dietz, DEA. He's got
a record of your suspect's movements
every day for the last three months.
<b> DIETZ
</b> (stabbing the air
with the packets)
All I wanna know is how are these
guys supposed to be holding up
Tarzana City National on August 2nd,
when they are in Fort-fucking-
Lauderdale August 2ND!!!
<b> HARP
</b> Not an easy thing to do, is it,
Utah?
<b> UTAH
</b> Aw shit.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Nice tattoo, Dietz.
We hear a faint BUZZ, growing louder as we...
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. BEDROOM - UTAH'S APARTMENT - DAWN
</b>
The doorbell BUZZ shrieks through the room. It stops.
Starts again. A ghostly dawn finds UTAH and TYLER
sleeping peacefully, limbs entwined like vines.
Johnny's eyes snap open. Spies the clock. 4:00 a.m.
Tyler stirs beside him, coming out of sleep.
Johnny wraps a blanket around his waist and staggers to
the door.
BODHI stands outside the door wearing a lunatic grin.
Behind him NATHANIEL, ROACH and GROMMET hoot from the
pickup.
<b> BODHI
</b> C'mon brah, there's a righteous
swell. Let's go! Let's go!
Tyler comes into the room, wrapped in a sheet.
Utah sees her knowing smile.
<b> TYLER
</b> He does this.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BEACH - PREDAWN
</b>
Vampire morning. A misty predawn, bled of all color.
Steel gray tones. The ocean vanishes in the fog a few
feet from shore.
Tyler and Johnny, carrying their boards, walk toward the
water.
<b> TYLER
</b> Come on, Utah. Everybody's out
there catchin' all the good rides.
She realizes he has stopped ten feet behind her, like a
great weight has dragged him to a halt.
<b> TYLER
</b> What's wrong Johnny?
(goes back to him)
You're like a different person.
He stares at her. His expression dark... wrestling with
something.
<b> UTAH
</b> I am a different person, Tyler.
He lets out a long breath and looks away, out to sea.
JOHNNY'S POV... the water receding into a backlit wall of
mist.
FIGURES APPEAR, faint silhouettes in the fog.
Shades of gray in the gray.
IN SLOW MOTION they weave hypnotically across the screen,
their shapes merging and unmerging as they cross each
other.
STACKED UP BY THE EXTREME LONG LENS, Bodhi, Roach, Grommet
and Nathaniel crave and slash toward us with mystical
grace.
In SUSPENDED TIME we see them hooting and grinning at each
other as they cut aggressive moves close to each other.
Dolphins playing.
Challenging each other in mock combat.
So good, their boards slash past each other with inches to
spare.
There is an incredible sense of freedom and exhilaration.
Bonding forged through mastery of this arcane art.
For the first time we see the core group of Bodhi's tribe,
by themselves. It dawns on us...
There are four of them.
And at that moment Nathaniel drops in front of Bodhi,
laughing at the near miss, and drops his pants in a nasty
wig-wagging moon.
TRACKING SLOWLY IN ON JOHNNY staring, mouth open.
Watching the four horsemen of the Apocalypse ride toward
him.
IN SLOW MOTION, BODHI grins as he slashes past Nathaniel's
shining white butt.
ON JOHNNY, as he reacts to the dawning certainty.
He feels weak, dizzy... like the ground is moving under
him.
<b> TYLER
</b> Hey. You okay? You look like you
saw a ghost.
SHOCK CUT -- ANGELO TURNING TOWARD HIM, at the drop car
scene. Eons ago. The sound of his voice ringing...
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Forget about it, kid, They're
ghosts...
BACK TO JOHNNY, as he backs away from Tyler. Still in
shock, recoiling from the situation.
<b> UTAH
</b> I... I gotta go.
<b> TYLER
</b> Johnny... what's going on? I don't
get it... did I do something?
<b> UTAH
</b> No. I'm sorry. I have to go.
I'll, uh... I'll call you later.
I'm sorry.
He sets off running up the beach.
Tyler stares after him. Confused and hurt.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. PAPPAS' HOUSE - NIGHT
</b>
Early evening. Utah pulls into the driveway. When he
kills the engine we hear Greek music from inside the
house.
AT THE ENTRANCE Johnny finds the door ajar. He pushes it
open a little to reveal--
<b>INT. HOUSE
</b>
Pappas dancing alone in the living room with his shirt
off, holding a glass of ouzo. Facing away from the door
the ample Greek hears Utah's tentative knock. Without
breaking from his dance or turning he calls out--
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Hey, babe. Get on over here so the
big dog can teach ya how to bark.
Pappas howls like a bloodhound, then twirls around.
<b> UTAH
</b> Woof, woof.
We see the startled Pappas, at a loss for the first time.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Johnny! Uh, you, uh... should call
first, you know? Hey, where the
hell were you all day? You gotta at
least call in or something. You
okay?
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo, we gotta talk.
Pappas moves toward him, kind of subconsciously herding
Utah back out the door.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Listen, uh... if you're okay, can it
wait till tomorrow morning, kid,
<b> I...
</b>
Johnny hears footsteps and turns.
Miss Deer comes through the door like it's not the first
time, carrying a bag of groceries.
<b> MISS DEER
</b> Angie, they didn't have the kind of
wine you like but I got... oh, hi
Johnny!
Her icy office persona obviously got left there. Her hair
is unbound and flows around her shoulders, and in halter
top and jeans she looks delectably off-duty.
Angelo looks at Utah like don't you say a fucking word.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. HOUSE
</b>
A few minutes later. Utah and Pappas leaning on his car.
The younger agent seems to have regained his hunt-down
fever.
<b> UTAH
</b> ... so I started tailing him.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> This Zen master surfer.
<b> UTAH
</b> Bodhi, yeah. I'm on him all day,
right. He goes here, he goes there,
he goes to Tower Records and buys
come CDs, he has lunch at Patrick's
Road House...
(mock casual)
... he goes into the Assured Trust
Savings and Loan.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Did he rob it?
<b> UTAH
</b> Cute. He was inside for about 20
minutes. The other guy, Roach,
waited in the truck. They were
scoping it out, right?!
<b> UTAH
</b> Yeah, or cashing a check.
<b> UTAH
</b> Wait, wait. Then these guys go back
to their beach house and box up all
their shit. Load it in Bodhi's
truck and take it to a public
storage unit. You see? Summer's
almost over. They're splitting.
They're gonna pick up a little
traveling money tomorrow. The next
day at the outside latest. I got a
feeling.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Last time you got a feeling I had to
kill a man, which I always hate
because it looks bad on the report.
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo... I'm right this time. We
can still win this one.
Angelo looks at the conviction in the other agent's eyes.
Pappas sighs and puts a hand on Johnny's shoulder.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Alright, look... banks are closed.
Nothing's gonna go down tonight,
right? So we'll be on these guys
like white on rice... first thing
tomorrow morning. Okay? Tomorrow.
Okay?
Utah nods. Then grins. Pappas starts backing up, like a
long rubber band which was stretched taut is pulling him
back into the house.
<b> UTAH
</b> Woof, woof.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. STREET NEAR BODHI'S HOUSE - DAY
</b>
LONG LENS POV scanning Bodhi's house. There is a "FOR
RENT" sign out front. The driveway and carpet are
empty... no vehicles in sight.
<b> UTAH (V.O.)
</b> They're gone. Son of a bitch. We
missed them.
UTAH LOWERS HIS BINOCULARS. He's standing next to the car
while Pappas sits on the hood, sipping coffee from a
thermos.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> They're on their way to Maui.
<b> UTAH
</b> No way. Not yet. Come on.
Utah jumps in and starts the car. Pappas is screwing the
cap on the thermos. Johnny puts the car in gear, forcing
Angelo to scramble in as the car starts to roll.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Jesus Christ, kid! The banks don't
open 'till nine.
<b>EXT. CITY STREET - TRAFFIC - DAY
</b>
Johnny weaves the sedan among the creeping commuters.
Long glittering lines and heat waves.
<b> UTAH
</b> I say we call it in. Get some
backup. But you gotta do it. Harp
won't listen to me.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Sure. No problem. I'll just call
up and tell him his favorite agent
saw this one surfer moon another
surfer yesterday and it looked real
suspicious. Shit, he'll probably
call out the National Guard.
<b> UTAH
</b> I say we don't call it in. Under no
circumstance are we to call this in.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Look, we handle it ourselves, for
right now, okay? We cover the bank,
whatever. You and me. That way if
nothing happens, or more accurately,
when nothing happens... I don't get
my tits any further into the wringer
than they already are.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. ASSURED TRUST SAVING AND LOAN
</b>
SLOW PAN from the facade of the bank halfway up the block
to Utah's sedan in the TIGHT F.G. Head flopped back over
the seat, Angelo snoozes in the hot sun with a sports page
over his face. Johnny looks at his watch for the fiftieth
time. Whole lot of nothing going on.
Angelo slides the sports page down to his chin, without
otherwise moving.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Time for lunch.
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo, it's eleven thirty.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> That place up the street has
meatball sandwiches. Get me two.
Utah slides out of the car. Feeling a little exposed he
pulls his Dodgers cap down a little tighter, and adjusts
his sunglasses.
He trudges off through the sidewalk crowd toward the FAST-
FOOD STAND nearby.
Pappas pulls the sports page back up to block the sun.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. FAST FOOD PLACE
</b>
ON A LONG LENS, very stacked up, we see Johnny standing at
the grody pick-up window. He keeps looking at the bank,
visible B.G.
The pick-up window opens and food appears, sliding out.
Utah turns, pulling out his wallet.
<b> VOICE FROM INSIDE
</b> Two meatball, one tuna on wheat,
two lemonades. Total's seven eighty
four.
As Johnny is counting out the bills, a BURGUNDY
THUNDERBIRD pulls up in front of the bank. The doors fly
open.
The Ex-Presidents jump out.
They sprint for the entrance. All this OUT OF FOCUS, B.G.
Johnny misses it as he picks up the food order.
The Presidents disappear inside.
Johnny looks toward the bank again. There is no movement.
REVERSE, as Utah walks back toward his car. Pappas is
still under the paper. He slides it down when he smells
food.
<b> UTAH
</b> Here, yours is the one that looks
like a road kill. Enjoy.
Utah throws a big stack of napkins through the window into
Pappas' lap. Still standing next to the car.
<b> UTAH
</b> Here's your lemonade.
(he looks down the
street)
Did you see that T-Bird pull up?
Pappas pulls a disgusting mass from the bag, unwrapping
one end.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> (without looking)
Damn, I could eat the ass out of an
elephant. I shoulda had you get me
three a these. What T-Bird?
Pappas is about to take a huge bite when a meatball falls
out of the end of the sandwich. It lands on the seat next
to him.
He looks at it. Picks it up. Pops it into his mouth
and--
Freezes, mouth open. Eyes focused on...
The Ex-Presidents, in living color, flashing through the
doors of the bank 80 feet away.
Johnny is so astounded he doesn't do anything for about
two seconds. Pappas coughs out his meatball, eyes
bugging.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Jesus Christ!! It's them!
The Presidents are piling into the car.
Johnny reacts characteristically. He whips out the
Beretta and yells--
<b> UTAH
</b> FBI!! Freeze!! Right now!
NIXON spins, raising his shotgun.
But Reagan knocks the muzzle down with his hand. Shoves
him into the car. Then Reagan jumps behind the wheel.
The back wheels light up, smoking, as the T-Bird launches.
Utah FIRES.
<b>BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
</b>He puts two into the trunk and blows the back window into
junk jewelry. The T-Bird peels out into traffic, clipping
a Subaru which locks them up and spins.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Come on, kid, get in the car!
Jesus!
<b>INT./ EXT. SEDAN
</b>
Pappas reaches across, starting the engine as Johnny jumps
in the driver's side. Utah buries the throttle into the
firewall and charges aggressively through the medium
traffic.
Their sedan slews around the back of an eighteen wheeler,
fishtailing. It straightens out. No T-Bird in sight.
<b> UTAH
</b> The hell are they?!
<b> PAPPAS
</b> They took a left at the next light!
<b> UTAH
</b> You sure?!
Utah is totally wired. Totally concentrated. The
adrenalin is kicking in, flashing through his system. His
brain is on turbo boost, reacting a thousand times a
second as they hit sixty through the traffic, which seems
to be standing still.
<b> UTAH
</b> I got 'em. I see 'em. I'm on it,
I'm on it.
High-speed slalom through cars and trucks.
The world passes by in a hysterical blur.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> You even watching the road?
A car pulls out, straight ahead.
Utah swerves wildly, mostly gets around him. The guy's
bumper and front grille are removed. Utah does a smoking
skid-recovery. Doesn't even slow down.
The late model T-Bird is weaving manically. It makes a
sliding turn onto a cross street half a block ahead of the
FBI agents.
Utah cuts the wheel into a huge Ralph's parking lot.
Pedestrians scatter. Utah center-punches a week's supply
of groceries in a cart.
<b>INT./ EXT. T-BIRD
</b>
The Presidents hold on desperately as Reagan white-
knuckles it through civilian traffic. They're looking all
around, trying to see where Utah went.
<b> LBJ
</b> Where are they, man? I don't see
'em. We lose 'em?
Not exactly... THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD we see an airborne
Utah hurtling from a Ralph's entrance. The sedan lands on
the street, tearing chunks out of the asphalt with the
undercarriage.
An instant later it hammers into the side of the T-Bird.
The two cars spin out of control. Utah cuts the wheel,
slamming into them again. Side by side demolition derby.
WHAM!! Utah hits them again. The Presidents lose
control, jumping a curb, losing the right front tire in
the process.
Utah's car starts to swap ends. Hit the center island
broadside.
The sedan flips onto its back in an explosion of glass.
SCREECH of steel on concrete as it comes to rest.
Hanging upside down, Pappas is mightily pissed off.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Nice fuckin' work, hotshot.
Christ!
They can see the T-Bird still moving.
It slews drunkenly as the driver maintains speed on
flapping rubber.
Johnny shimmies out of the wreckage, sliding on his back
in broken glass. Pappas is packed in, upside down,
wriggling to get out through the side window. A tight
fit.
<b>INT./ EXT. T-BIRD
</b>
The Presidents are hammered up and down by the flailing
tire.
<b> REAGAN
</b> Emergency sanitization! Here we go!
<b>EXT. GAS STATION
</b>
The T-Bird vaults into the parking lot and slides to a
smoking stop at one of the pump islands. The Presidents
explode out of the car in a blur.
Reagan bodyslams a TEENAGER putting gas in his MUSTANG.
He flips his big pistol to LBJ as the other Presidents
charge past him. Nixon jumps behind the wheel of the
Mustang. LBJ and JFK pile in.
Reagan grabs the gas nozzle out of the car.
He pulls out a ZIPPO LIGHTER.
Reagan raises the gas nozzle like a gun and holds the
zippo below and slightly in front of it. He flicks the
flame.
Then pulls the trigger on the nozzle.
Like an impromptu flame thrower, the nozzle spews A TWENTY
FOOT JET OF FIRE which engulfs the T-Bird in an instant.
Any physical evidence in the car is rapidly incinerated.
Customers are running, screaming.
Nixon has the Mustang fired up.
<b> NIXON
</b> Let's go! Move it, Ronny!
Ronny's eyes sparkle behind his mask as he paints the
scene with the jet of fire. You can see it getting good
to him. In a second he's going to blow up the whole
block. But he's getting his rocks off. He sets two other
cars on fire.
<b>A FIGURE BLURS INTO FRAME.
</b>In a flying tackle, Utah catapults Reagan off his pins.
They roll, skidding across the oily concrete.
Spraying wild, the fire swirls around the pump island.
Out of the black smoke, PAPPAS charges like an angry bull,
his snubnose held high. NIXON sees him and floors it.
The Mustang smokes out of the gas station as Pappas' shots
blow out the back window.
Utah and Reagan roll away from the blaze. Johnny's pants
are burning. He gets to his knees in time for Reagan's
kick to take him square in the solar plexus. He folds in
half. Drops to the cement.
Reagan kicks him again and takes off running.
The President is burning.
His suit jacket is ablaze. He shucks out of it as he
runs.
Gasping, Johnny rapidly slaps his jeans. Puts himself
out. He comes up running, pulling his Beretta. Sees the
back of Reagan's head disappearing into an alley behind
the gas station.
<b>EXT. ALLEY
</b>
A non-descript L.A. alley... commercial buildings on one
side, walled suburb on the other. Two men running all
out.
A recent President and a wild-eyed cop trailing smoke like
a crashing jet fighter.
Beyond the buildings behind them A FIREBALL EXPLODES
SKYWARD. We hear sirens and shouting, which recede as the
two pelt along the alley. It gets quieter. Just the
machine-gun slap of the shoes on pavement, and the hard
breathing of the two men, each in overdrive, going all out
in long blurring strides.
REAGAN looks back. Sees the demon cop behind him,
gaining.
Utah has become an engine, a running machine... juggernaut
mode.
AHEAD OF THEM a BLACK AND WHITE swings into the alley.
Reagan hangs a hard left and blasts a wooden gate half off
its hinges. Utah whips through the gate a second later.
Diving into suburbia.
<b>INT./ EXT. NEIGHBORHOOD - FOOTCHASE SEQUENCE
</b>
It becomes a blur. Pure kinetic energy. Two meteors
rocketing through a low-rent suburb. And God help anyone
who gets in the way.
Reagan crosses a cluttered backyard.
Broken field run through toys, swing set, stacks of god-
knows-what.
He runs through a Mr. Turtle Pool in an explosion of
spray.
Crashes through a hedge.
Through the narrow gap between houses.
Utah powers into the tight space behind him.
Blurring along between stucco walls.
They emerge into the front yard.
A WOMAN watering her lawn is so surprised she yelps and
falls down.
Reagan and Utah both hurdle her.
AHEAD, KIDS ON BIKES, racing along the sidewalk.
Reagan dodges the first, Utah slams into the next two.
He crashes, rolling, tangled up in bikes and squawking
teenagers.
He comes out of a pile-up somehow still in high gear.
Reagan flashes across the sunlit street.
Dodges in front of a GARBAGE TRUCK which locks up the
brakes.
It stops so fast, one of the guys falls off the back.
The GUY is getting up as Utah whips around the back of the
truck.
Knocks him sprawling.
Utah doesn't stop. Doesn't look back.
Like he doesn't see anything in the real world but the
figure running ahead of him. Like it's some kind of
hyperkinetic video game.
Everything is a blur. Suburbia smeared into staccato
impressions.
The house across the street is blocked by fence on both
sides.
A MAN is picking up his mail.
Reagan pounds past him. Right through the front door of
the house.
Utah follows.
Panting as he sprints down a dark hallway.
A WOMAN with a basket of washing SCREAMS as Reagan blasts
past her, knocking her flying.
Utah leaps over her sprawled legs.
Cats blur underfoot. Utah crunches down on a tail. A CAT
EXPLOSION. Screeching merges with the woman's shrill
shouts as Utah slams the back screen door off its hinges.
Across the back yard. Fence. Over it. Running on.
REAGAN looks back.
Sees Utah still behind him like in a bad dream.
He enters the next house. Sliding glass door.
Utah sees Reagan pull it closed. Locking it.
Without breaking stride Johnny grabs a potted plant off a
patio wall.
Heaves it ahead of him.
The glass BURST INTO A WALL OF DIAMONDS.
Utah blasts through a microsecond later.
Topples the kitchen table. Furniture and crockery
crashing everywhere.
He sprints down a hallway after Reagan.
A FIERCE WOMAN in a housecoat shouting at them as they
pass, holding a vacuum cleaner like it's shot-gun.
<b> WOMAN
</b> Get the fuck out of this house!
What the fuck do you think you're
doing--
Around a corner. A VICIOUS SNARLING SOUND.
Utah sees something flying at him. Reflexively catches
it.
Reagan has thrown a PIT-BULL.
The Fierce Woman's fierce dog.
UTAH'S POV -- the snarling little demon right in his face.
He drop-kicks it like a goddamn field-goal right through a
doorway and runs on.
Another door. Another explosion of sunlight. Another
yard.
Sprinklers this time. Reagan and Utah running through
sunlit walls of rain. They crash through another hedge.
Emerging drenched.
The ground drops away. Slipping and sliding on iceplant,
they skid down a steep slope. Reagan reaches bottom.
A TEN FOOT RETAINING WALL, dropping off like a cliff to
pavement below.
Reagan falls, landing on his feet.
Panting now, feeling it, he stumbles up and runs on.
Utah rips down through the iceplant like a human
lawnmower.
Slides over the edge. Falls -- lands hard.
TIGHT ON HIS KNEE and SLOW MOTION.
Taking the impact.
We HEAR something go.
Utah crashes to the pavement, his face contorted with
pain.
He grabs his tortured knee with both hands.
<b> UTAH
</b> Not now. Not now!
Reagan runs on. They are in an enclosed storage yard of
some kind. Ten foot chainlink all around.
Utah struggles to get up and run.
He sprawls forward, biting back a howl of pain.
We see the incredible will driving him on.
He gets up and again, hobbling. Trying to run.
Reagan reaches the fence.
He is heaving for breath. Holding his side.
Utah stumbles, gets up, clutching his knee.
Hobbling forward. His eyes wild, the veins in his neck
bulging.
Reagan starts to climb. Utah collapses to his knees. He
can't go on.
Reagan reaches the top of the fence. He looks back.
<b>UTAH HAS THE BERETTA POINTED RIGHT AT HIM.
</b>Twenty feet away. The muzzle rock-steady. He can't miss.
They both are frozen, panting. Locked into the moment.
<b> REAGAN
</b> You want me, there's only one way.
PAPPAS reaches the top of the hill, 200 feet away, panting
like he's about to collapse. He sees the tableau.
ECU -- UTAH'S FINGER on the trigger. Tightening.
RACK TO his eyes. Blinking, water running into them.
God, he wants to.
ECU -- REAGAN'S EYES, through the mask. Locked with
Utah's.
UTAH suddenly snaps his hand up and FIRES VERTICALLY.
<b>HE HOWLS WITH RAGE, FRUSTRATION AND PAIN.
</b>FIRES AGAIN. And AGAIN.
Slumping back, his shoulders slam down onto the concrete.
Straight-arming the Beretta he FIRES RAPIDLY...
Bulleting the blue sky.
HIGH ANGLE, looking straight down on the tableau.
Reagan leaps off the fence and runs OUT OF FRAME, as Utah
empties the magazine straight at us, the shots merging
with his agonized howl, echoing as we--
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. FBI BUILDING - BULLPEN - NIGHT
</b>
UTAH sits next to the DISPATCHER waiting for news like a
sailor in a storm. His leg is popped up on a chair with
jeans split to the thigh and an ace bandage wrapped around
his knee.
His face is a nasty patchwork of scratches and bruises.
He drains his coffee and gazes out at the empty bullpen.
PAPPAS comes through the doors, wiping the remains of
dinner off his mouth.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Nothing?
<b> UTAH
</b> Nothing.
The Dispatcher talks into his headset, glances up at
Pappas, shakes his head.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Go home, kid. Get the hell outta
here. Get some sleep. You look
like shit. They get anything even
resembles your guy, I'm on your
beeper. Here. You like feta?
He smiles warmly, handing his younger partner a brown
paper sack.
<b> UTAH
</b> Feta. My favorite.
Managing a weary smile. Lifts his body out of the chair,
turns to go.
Angelo ponders something.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Johnny...
Utah stops. Looks back at the man.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> All I wanna know is one thing, why
didn't you just take the shot?
Johnny's gaze turns inward.
<b> UTAH
</b> I don't know.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. BATHROOM - UTAH'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
</b>
UTAH sits on the bathroom floor as Tyler dabs Betadyne
antiseptic over his wounds. Utah cringes.
<b> UTAH
</b> Ouch.
<b> TYLER
</b> Betadyne doesn't hurt.
<b> UTAH
</b> You're kneeling on my hand.
She laughs, shifts her weight and keeps tending him.
<b> TYLER
</b> So what'd the other guy look like?
<b> UTAH
</b> Never saw him, was your basic hit
and run.
<b> TYLER
</b> But you look like you been in a
train wreck, how'd he just drive
away?
Utah acts like he wants to say something but his mouth
won't quite form the words. Tyler dabs his face, touches
a finger to his forehead.
<b> TYLER
</b> Johnny, what is it with you? You
have that look again, it's like
you're about to tell me something
and then you don't... or you can't.
What's going on?
Johnny searches her eyes.
She stares at him, becoming fragile suddenly.
<b> TYLER
</b> What? What do you want to tell me?
Utah's brow unfurls. The thought has passed. He slowly
cups his hand over hers. Gently pulling her close.
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm glad you pulled me out of the
water that day...
He presses his lips to the smooth curve of her forehead.
A kiss to each downcast eye. Searching out her mouth with
his own as his hands glide down the small of her back.
Their reflection in the mirror as Utah slowly lowers Tyler
to the bathroom floor. She clings tightly in a breathless
kiss.
<b>EXT. CLIFF - NIGHT
</b>
A Buddha in the moonlight, BODHI sits crosslegged upon the
cliff, staring at the ocean.
CAMERA CIRCLES AROUND HIM, focusing in upon his eyes.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
<b>INT. BEDROOM - NIGHT
</b>
UTAH asleep, flopped in a spread-eagled X.
WE HEAR the bedroom door opening, see a slash of light
fall across the bed.
Johnny doesn't stir.
A shadow appears on the wall, moving toward him.
An outstretched arm holding a gun.
Utah snores softly, sleeping like a baby.
CAMERA TRACKS IN on his peaceful face.
A single eyelid flutters. Total silence, until...
KABOOOOMMM! The Pillow beside him EXPLODES into a
blizzard of goosedown. Johnny rears up, eyes wide, mouth
agape.
TYLER stands above him, recovering from the kick of the
smoking 9mm Beretta in her hand.
<b> TYLER
</b> A lawyer!? You lied to me!
She throws his FBI gold star at his face.
<b> TYLER
</b> Look, Tyler, I can--
BOOM! Tyler SQUEEZES off another round.
Cascading goosefeathers falling like snow.
Utah flinches sideways.
<b> TYLER
</b> Jesus Christ, Johnny -- you've been
using me! Your jacket's on the
floor in the bathroom -- this
goddamn thing's half out of the
pocket... Oh God, it's all part of
some case, isn't it?
<b> UTAH
</b> Tyler, put the gun down.
<b> TYLER
</b> You tell me the fucking truth
Johnny... did your parents really
die in a car crash? DID THEY?!
She waves the Beretta in his face.
<b> UTAH
</b> No. They live in Columbus Ohio.
Tyler lowers the pistol slowly, the strength leaving her.
Her face begins to flood with tears.
<b> UTAH
</b> I work bank robbery. Guys I'm after
are surfers. I needed you, at
first, but not--
<b> TYLER
</b> Fuck you, Johnny Utah. Fuck you!!
Don't you have a soul? Goddamn you
to hell!
She goes limp as the sobs rack her body. The gun flops
from her grip.
Utah sweeps it under the bed with his foot.
He moves to gently comfort her.
She bolts at his touch, running from the bedroom.
Utah is up and hopping into his pants to follow her. He
stumbles.
<b> UTAH
</b> Tyler! Wait!!
From the living room we hear a rattling of keys, the front
door opens and slams shut. He hobbles to the door,
favoring his knee. Opens it. We hear the Porsche
screeching away.
Utah sags, the breath coming out of him long and slow.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
UTAH on the bed staring up at the ceiling. Phone cradled,
listening to--
<b> TYLER (V.O.)
</b> Hi, it's me. Leave a message.
BEEP! He rests the telephone on his chest, letting the
tape roll a moment before he speaks.
<b> UTAH
</b> Tyler I... look, I fucked up, okay.
I know I fucked up. I wanted to
tell you, but I couldn't -- I was
afraid you'd leave... good guess,
huh?
(grimacing)
Fuck, why can't I ever say what I
really mean? I lied to you. I'm an
asshole... but I need you, Tyler. I
want you to know that I've never
known anyone like you before in my
life... and I... I hope you change
your mind...
He cradles the receiver, looks out the window. Black of
night. Dead still.
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
UTAH asleep, telephone still perched on his bare chest.
BUZZZZZZ! The rasp of the doorbell.
Johnny is airborne, phone flying across the floor.
Hunting for his pants, realizes they are already on, limps
in fast motion to the door.
<b> UTAH
</b> Tyler! Wait, I--
Whips it open.
BODHI standing in the doorway, smiling like an excited
child.
<b> BODHI
</b> Howdy brah.
NATHANIEL, ROACH, and GROMMET are there behind him.
They look like sentry dogs. Johnny freezes.
Bodhi walks past Utah, into the room.
<b> BODHI
</b> C'mon, get your gear on, we're
rollin'.
Cheerful, hardly able to contain his exuberance.
He moves through the room, grabbing Johnny's shirt from a
chair, a pair of sneakers on the floor.
Utah sees his FBI shield sitting on the dresser in plain
sight.
He palms it when Bodhi is turned away, and slips it into
his hip pocket to conceal it.
<b> UTAH
</b> What going on, Bodhi?
Bodhi plucks a couple socks off the couch, hands them to
Utah.
<b> BODHI
</b> Here.
(spying Johnny's cut
face)
Hey, what happened? Ya cut
yourself shaving?
Johnny meets Bodhi's cold stare.
<b> UTAH
</b> I don't think I wanna surf right
now.
Bodhi's face takes on a crazy glow.
<b> BODHI
</b> Naw, this is different, Johnny.
This is something totally
different... you're gonna love this.
He winds an arm around Johnny's shoulders, guides him
toward the door.
<b> BODHI
</b> C'mon, let's go, let's go. Time's
wastin', brah.
Bodhi claps Utah on the back, ushering him outside.
Nathaniel, Roach and Grommet fall into step beside them.
The door closes behind them.
CAMERA DRIFTS back through the apartment, coming to rest
on the 9mm Beretta, on the floor under the bed... useless.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BODHI'S PICKUP - PREDAWN
</b>
The pickup is a funnel of dust along the desert road.
Black mountains against a silver sky.
<b>INT. BODHI'S PICKUP
</b>
The tapedeck blasts. BODHI and UTAH sit inside the cab.
Through the rear window, we see NATHANIEL, ROACH and
GROMMET in the flatbed.
Bodhi swivels his eyes to Johnny, lowers the volume.
<b> BODHI
</b> Life's sure got a sick sense of
humor, don't you think so Johnny?
Face splitting into a shit-eating grin.
<b> UTAH
</b> How you figure?
<b> BODHI
</b> (slight laugh)
News, last night... those guys, the
Ex-Presidents... they robbed my bank
yesterday. And I was just there the
day before, cashing a check. See...
look. Assured Trust... same place.
He takes a beat up checkbook off the dash and flips it to
Johnny.
Utah opens the cover and looks.
Sure enough. Assured Trust Savings and Loan.
<b> BODHI
</b> I was picking up some bucks cause
we're leaving town. Bizarre, huh?
If I'd waited a day I'd been right
in the middle of it. Kinda sorry I
missed it. I'd liked to've seen
them.
A long pregnant pause. Utah breathes deeply, remaining
calm, his voice carrying a chilling bravado.
<b> UTAH
</b> Takes guts to rob a bank. All that
adrenalin pumping, waving loaded
guns, taking out the guards, getting
everybody on the floor, never
knowin' who's gonna burst in...
(looks right at
Bodhi)
... wondering what it's like to take
a bullet. Must be some ride.
Utah's smile is a personal challenge. Bodhi sits
perversely intrigued. The mental warfare escalates.
<b> BODHI
</b> Banks are insured, brah. Long as
nobody gets shot, it's really a
victimless crime. Just gotta scare
'em a little, would be my guess.
(ponders something)
Now if I was gonna rob a bank, with
all those guys wearin' body armor
these days, know what I'd carry?
Bodhi reaches his hand underneath the seat.
He pulls out a huge holstered handgun, rests it in his
lap, draws and holds the gun up against his cheek.
<b> BODHI
</b> .454 Casull. Most powerful handgun
on the planet. Muzzle velocity of
2000 feet per second. Twice the
kinetic energy of a .44 Magnum.
Bodhi stares at Utah, then flashes his signature smile.
Utah says coldly.
<b> UTAH
</b> One shot stopping.
<b> BODHI
</b> (laughs)
'One shot stopping'... good, very
good. I like you, Johnny. I like
you because you'll sacrifice
anything to win. I respect that.
It elevates you a little above the
drones who have learned compromise.
Here, hold it. Check out the
weight.
He twirls the gun, grabs the barrel and extends the handle
to Utah.
Johnny takes it slowly. Now it's aimed at Bodhi.
<b> BODHI
</b> (cheerfully)
Whoa. Careful. You got the muzzle
pointing right at me, brah.
He casually pushes the barrel away, looking back at the
highway.
Johnny swings a stiff arm out his window and pumps a ROUND
into open desert. KABOOOM!! The recoil blows Johnny's
arm back over the top of the truck. Practically breaks
his wrist.
Thunder rolls across the dark hills.
From the back of the pickup Nathaniel howls.
Grommet and Roach high five.
Johnny turns to Bodhi, breaking slowly into a feral grin.
<b> UTAH
</b> Nice.
He hands the smoking weapon back to him.
As if to say "two can play this game".
Bodhi stands challenged.
Each snared in the other's power...
Bodhi takes the weapon back, casually. Slips it under the
seat.
<b> BODHI
</b> It's a special day, Johnny U. A
very special day...
Utah's gaze travels beyond the windshield.
Where tentacles of brand new morning light vein the sky.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. DESERT AIRSTRIP
</b>
TIGHT ON A turbo-prop engine ROARING.
WIDER reveals a big Cessna twin. The PILOT, a weaselly
guy we haven't seen before, fires up the second engine.
The plane shudders eagerly in the metallic predawn light.
A desert airstrip near Palmdale. A couple of aluminum-
siding hangers and no tower. A few other planes around
but no activity besides Bodhi's rock-steady crew.
UTAH watches Grommet whip back a tarp in the bed of
Bodhi's truck and starts tossing out PARACHUTE PACKS.
Roach tosses one to Bodhi, who chucks it to Utah.
<b> BODHI
</b> Ever done this before?
<b> UTAH
</b> Once.
<b> BODHI
</b> Pure adrenalin, right?! The
ultimate rush. Other guys snort for
it, jab a vein for it -- all you
gotta do is jump.
<b> UTAH
</b> Sure, it's a blast, but listen, I
sorta screwed up my knee yesterday--
<b> BODHI
</b> Yeah, I noticed you limping.
(grins)
But don't worry about it, brah.
Don't worry at all. We're not gonna
land on land!
Bodhi grabs his sleeve, ushering him into the plane.
<b> UTAH
</b> Oh, well, that's fine then. I feel
so much better.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. CESSNA
</b>
Utah sits, wearing a day-glo jump suit, hugging the chute
in his lap. Next to him is the gaping door. Beyond... a
spectacular down sunburst at 10,000 feet. ROAR of wind
and engines.
Utah watches Bodhi, Nathaniel, Grommet and Roach wriggling
into their colorful freefall suits. Nathaniel pulls on a
pair of purple shorts over his suit. Looks real dorky.
Grommet has on duck feet. Bodhi, apparently, is going to
jump barefoot.
Nobody has their chutes on yet.
Johnny hefts his, as if weighing it, somehow judging the
contents. His brain is racing. Bodhi shouts over the
roar.
<b> BODHI
</b> It's a little ceremony we always
have at the end of summer. One last
speedstar.
<b> UTAH
</b> So, who... uh, who packed my chute?
<b> BODHI
</b> I did. What's the matter? Don't
trust me?
<b> UTAH
</b> You gotta earn trust.
<b> BODHI
</b> Then we'll earn it together. Here,
take mine.
Bodhi swaps chutes with Johnny.
Utah looks at the new chute uncertainly.
Is this a game? Poker moves?
Did Bodhi anticipate this step?
<b> ROACH
</b> Hey... you don't want Bodhi's, man.
His pack-jobs suck... they only open
half the time. Take Grommet's, man.
Roach's grin is evil as he grabs Grommet's chute out of
his hands and switches it with Johnny's. Keeps that one
and gives his to Grommet.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Whoa, unfair, dude!
Grommet grabs his chute back and hands Johnny the one he
had, which was Roach's. I think.
Johnny looks at the pack in his hands. Then at the
grinning faces.
Russian surfer freefall roulette. Shit.
Bodhi studying him. Some kind of test.
Fuck it. Utah starts putting the damn thing on.
<b> UTAH
</b> We gonna jump or jerk off?
<b> BODHI
</b> My man!
<b>EXT. 10,000 FEET - DAWN
</b>
Multi-colored figures explode from the plane. Leaping
into freefall. Tumbling end over end.
WEARING HEADSETS, they hurtle downward.
<b> BODHI (RADIO)
</b> Utah, you copy bruddah?
<b> UTAH (RADIO)
</b> Whoooaaah! Shhiiittt! Whoooaaah!
<b> BODHI
</b> I'll take that as a yes.
One by one they stabilize. Falling face down, knees bent,
they angle their hands and feet minutely to move
laterally. Utah flails, the last to trim out. But he's
holding his own.
Grommet, working his duckfeet, pitches himself into a wild
spin, rotating like a dervish in a head down dive. He
flares out and "flies" back to the others.
Rocketing through the void at 120 mph they seem to
paradoxically hang above the world, almost unmoving... on
a separate plane of existence.
A hurricane of wind. Wild HOOTING.
Despite his terror, Johnny has to grin at Nathaniel,
falling butt first like he's sitting on a big inner tube
in the pool.
<b> ROACH
</b> Whip it out dudes! Cheap sex with
the cosmos!
<b> BODHI
</b> Ten thousand feet. Let's do it.
The group stabilizes, moving together.
First Bodhi and Roach link arms, trimming constantly.
Concentrating. Nathaniel flips over onto his stomach and
maneuvers toward them. He grabs Roach's arm.
Grommet works his way next to Nathaniel. Locks in.
They need Utah to complete the ring.
Four faces beckoning to him, distorted by the hurricane
wind.
<b> BODHI
</b> Come on Johnny. Get in here!
Johnny moves his hands like flippers and glides clumsily
toward them. Bodhi and Grommet grab him. He's in.
A perfect five-man star.
<b> BODHI
</b> Relax, brah. I got you, I got you.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Righteous-ass speedstar, dudes!
<b> BODHI
</b> You diggin' this?
<b> UTAH
</b> Great! GREAT!
Johnny is exhilarated more than he could have thought.
Screaming down through the dawn sky at 130.
Locked into the ring. Part of something.
Connected to these guys far above the planet.
Less far every second... Bodhi's chest altimeter reads
6,000 feet.
<b> BODHI
</b> Purty-thirty and we're meat waffles,
folks. See ya downtown!
He releases Roach's arm and the star disintegrates,
drifting apart.
Bodhi stays with Utah, falling parallel to the horizon,
facing each other, holding hands. 4000 feet. Airspeed
<b>140.
</b>
Grommet pulls his ripcord. He seems to be jerked upward
by a great force. Suddenly he is far above, a brightly
colored disc of fabric.
Utah is suddenly aware of the earth rushing up at him.
Nathaniel pulls, then Roach. They shoot upward,
disappearing.
Bodhi and Utah fall on, alone.
<b> BODHI
</b> You gonna pull?
<b> UTAH
</b> After you, Alfonse. I insist!
Bodhi looks at Utah. A slow grin. The meter on his chest
harness reads 2000 ft. 150 mph. 12 seconds to Valhalla.
<b> BODHI
</b> Don't screw around man, pull it!
<b> UTAH
</b> You do it... you first!
<b> BODHI
</b> One thousand feet. Pull the goddamn
cord!
<b> UTAH
</b> You first!
<b> BODHI
</b> Okay!
Bodhi reaches out suddenly and pulls Utah's ripcord
handle.
He waves goodbye as Johnny's canopy deploys. Utah is
jerked upward. He feels his weight hanging brutally in
the harness.
Johnny looks down.
Impossibly close to the ground. Bodhi's canopy BURSTS
OUT, an explosion of color. Below him is the shimmering
mirror of a LARGE RESERVOIR. Two seconds later the bright
yellow canopy meets its reflection and goes slack. An
explosion of white water marks Bodhi's impact.
LOW ANGLE AT WATER LEVEL as Utah hits.
IN SLOW MOTION a glorious wall of backlit spray shouts
skyward.
Molten glass falling back in the bright desert dawn.
Utah surfaces, sputtering, and shucks out of the harness.
He floats like a jellyfish, gasping for breath.
<b> UTAH
</b> Jesus Christ. I gotta be losin' it.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. AIRFIELD - DAY
</b>
Bodhi walks toward us, dripping wet and grinning.
He wraps his arm around Utah's shoulders as the others
walk up.
They're all soaked and stoked.
<b> BODHI
</b> Ya see... I told you Johnny U was
gonna be just fine!
Roach and the others clap him on the back. A moment of
acceptance into the tribe. Utah isn't sure what it means
yet.
<b> BODHI
</b> C'mere. There's something you need
to see.
Bodhi leads him toward a PLAIN UTILITY VAN parked nearby.
It was there earlier but Utah had no reason to notice it.
Bodhi opens the rear doors and motions Johnny inside.
Utah, puzzled and suddenly alert, steps in. Bodhi
follows.
<b>INT. VAN - DAY
</b>
The interior is empty except for several canvas duffel
bags and a small portable VCR. It is one of the new sales
presentation models, with deck and monitor together in one
tiny unit.
<b> UTAH
</b> What's this?
<b> BODHI
</b> Insurance policy. Now this is going
to sting a bit, but it's for your
own growth, brah. Press play.
Utah hits the button and an image comes up on the tiny
screen.
TIGHT ON SCREEN. A night shot. Rosie the biker has Tyler
in a powerful grip. Her hands are cuffed behind her, and
her mouth is taped. He has his switchblade up to her
throat. Her eyes are wild, but with rage, not fear.
She's trying to struggle out of his grip, kicking at him
viciously.
He controls her efficiently.
Bodhi stops the tape.
<b> BODHI
</b> She's a wild one, isn't she...
Special Agent Utah?
Utah lunges, pinning Bodhi to the wall of the van... an
elbow across his throat.
<b> UTAH
</b> You're a fucking dead man--
<b> BODHI
</b> (gasping for breath)
Whoa, whoa!! Think it through! I'm
the only one knows where they are.
Just let me talk for a second.
Johnny pulls back. Barely in control.
<b> UTAH
</b> Talk.
<b> BODHI
</b> She'll be fine, Rosie won't do
anything. At least not as long as I
meet him at a certain place and time,
about... let's see...
(he looks at his
dive Rolex)
... six hours from now.
Utah's voice sounds kind of strangled.
<b> UTAH
</b> You call him... right now... and
tell him to let her go.
<b> BODHI
</b> Sorry, can't do it, brah. He's on
the road. And where they're going
there's no phones. Damn, I hate
this Johnny, I really do. I hate
violence. See, that's why I need
Rosie. I could never make this
thing work, myself. No way I could
hold a knife to Tyler's throat, man!
She was my woman, once. We shared
time in this world. But Rosie, he's
kind of a... mechanism. Once you
set him in motion, he won't stop.
That's his gift, a kind of...
blankness. Noon comes, straight up,
he'll gut her like a pig and try not
to get any on his shoes. Nothing I
can do, unless I get there.
Utah blanches as he takes this in. Knows Bodhi well
enough now to know he means business.
<b> BODHI
</b> So that makes us partners, doesn't
it? Because now we both have the
same goal... to get me where I need
to go. Right?
Utah's expression turns suddenly cold as an executioner's.
<b> UTAH
</b> We're wasting time.
<b> BODHI
</b> See! That's what I like about you,
man! You're just sharp as a razor
blade.
Bodhi jumps out of the van and approaches the others,
gathered nearby. He addresses the pilot first...
<b> BODHI
</b> Get the plane down to Santa Monica
and top up the tanks.
(to the others)
Let's go. Let's saddle up!
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. L.A. STREETS - DAY
</b>
A STYLIZED LONG LENS SHOT stacks the cars into a dreamlike
mirage. The van weaves slowly among them with predatory
stealth.
<b> BODHI (V.O.)
</b> Okay. All I'm askin' for is ninety
seconds of your life, Johnny.
That's all.
<b>INT. VAN
</b>
EXTREME CLOSEUP ON the velcro straps of Second Chance
armor. Tanned fingers cinch it tight. A SHELL slides
into the cylinder of the Casull. A SHOTGUN is cocked.
<b>KACHACK!
</b>
<b> BODHI
</b> It's basic dog psychology, brah. If
you scare them, get them pissing
down their leg, they submit... you
control them. If you project
weakness, you draw aggression...
that's how people get hurt.
WIDER, revealing that Bodhi is in the back with Utah and
Roach.
Nathaniel and Grommet sit up front.
The duffels contents are strewn around. Masks. Weapons.
They're all pulling on suit pants and jackets. Tying
ties. Slipping on white gloves. Snappy Oxfords.
Bodhi is pulling a suit jacket on over his BODY ARMOR.
Utah is fumbling with his armored vest. He works with
vicious, jerky moves. His jaw locked. Eyes down.
<b> BODHI
</b> Fear causes hesitation, and
hesitation will cause your worst
fears to come true. You project
strength to avoid conflict.
<b> ROACH
</b> Peace through superior firepower,
babe.
Bodhi conspicuously empties all the shells from a PUMP 12
<b>GAUGE.
</b>Pockets the shells. Tosses the weapon to Utah.
<b> BODHI
</b> Here, you need this. You can't be
comin' through that door with your
dick in your hands, right?
<b> UTAH
</b> I can't do this.
<b> BODHI
</b> Sure you can! You may even like
it... it's a killer rush. You'll
see. Hey, don't I show you things,
Johnny U?
<b> UTAH
</b> Bodhi, this is your wake up call,
man -- I... am... an... Eff...
Bee... Eye... Agent!!
<b> BODHI
</b> Wild, ain't it?! See, we exist on a
higher plane, you and I. We make
our own rules. Why be a servant of
the law Johnny U... when you can be
it's master?
<b> GROMMET
</b> Fuckin' A!
<b> BODHI
</b> Ninety seconds, man, door to door.
A small price to pay for someone who
loves you.
(he looks up)
She does you know. It's not her
style to fall so hard... I don't
think she did with me.
He pulls the Ronald Reagan mask over his head smoothly.
Roach pulls his on. NIXON. Nathaniel becomes KENNEDY.
Grommet transforms into LBJ.
Bodhi looks in the bag -- no more masks.
<b> BODHI
</b> Sorry, Johnny. Guess you don't get
to be president.
JOHNNY'S POV -- the back doors of the van. And the
promise of what is beyond. Bodhi enters FRAME. Looks
straight at us.
<b> BODHI
</b> Rock and roll!
BOOM -- THE DOORS bang open, REVEALING--
<b>EXT. STREET - BANK - DAY
</b>
STILL IN POV (HANDHELD) we hurl ourselves from the dark
van into blasting daylight. Bodhi is ahead of us in the
sprint for the bank doors. Dizzying forward momentum as
we hammer through the doors into--
<b>INT. BANK
</b>
THE HANDHELD POV CONTINUES as we follow Bodhi, a wolf
plunging among the sheep. A FAT GUARD inside the doors.
He turns to us just as Bodhi butt-strokes him hard in the
gut.
Someone screams.
<b> BODHI
</b> Everybody freeze!! Don't move!!
AHEAD of us GROMMET/LBJ covers the SECOND GUARD with his
12 gauge.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Don't fucking do it, man!
The guy has his hand on the grip of his pistol but it's
like the thing suddenly weighs eight tons, he can't seem
to lift it from the holster. ROACH/NIXON slips up next to
him and helps him with it. The guy is visibly trembling.
A YOUNG JOCK makes a move to run.
'OUR' SHOTGUN comes up like a reflex, right in his face.
Roach/Nixon throws the guy to the floor by his hair.
AHEAD OF US, Bodhi is in action. Moving to the counter,
shouting--
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> All Tellers back away from the
counter! Hands on your heads!
RIGHT NOW!! That's right. You know
the drill.
It's like a replay of the robbery Utah saw on video. But
he's right in the middle of it, like in some kind of
nightmare.
WE'RE STILL IN POV, the image WHIPPING wildly from side to
side as Utah scans the room. We whirl dervish among the
statuary of the customers and bank employees. Our gaze
drifts across THE FLOOR MANAGER, a short guy in a brown
suit standing with his hands clasped behind his back.
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> All customers on the floor. Let's
go! Move it! Get down! On the
floor! Right now! Let's go.
Roach and Grommet are pushing them down.
Utah stands stiffly with the shotgun. He seems dazed.
He catches the eye of a CUSTOMER. In a tenth of a second
we see Johnny see the customer see his uncertainty. Fear
has them both hyper-aware.
Johnny gestures fiercely with the shotgun.
<b> UTAH
</b> On the floor, asshole! What's your
problem?! I blow your fucking
kneecaps out, you'll be on the
floor!!
The guy hits the deck like a sack of cement.
BODHI/REAGAN floats beside Johnny, scanning with the
Casull. He speaks without turning his head.
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> Kick in the ass, ain't it? Gonna be
kinda hard to explain though... when
they play the tapes back down at the
bureau. Could look bad on your
monthly evaluation.
Johnny looks up at surveillance camera. He's quite
fucked.
<b> UTAH
</b> Can we just get the goddamn money
and get out of here?!
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> That's the spirit!!
(to the room)
Head's down! Eyes down! Just a
couple minutes of your life and
we're gone.
Bodhi leaps to the counter, commanding the room.
But at this point they diverge from their time-proven
plan.
Roach isn't going for the drawers... he's sprinting for
the VAULT.
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> You!
(reading a name-tag)
Miss Jennings... of New Accounts.
Be a dear and open the inner gate
for my associate. NOW!!
<b> MISS JENNINGS
</b> He -- he -- he has the keys. Mr.
Duggan.
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> Whatta say, Mr. Duggan? Wanna give
her the keys or do I pick through
the blood and chunks for them?
DUGGAN, the bank manager, is surprisingly calm as he takes
the keys from his pocket. Holds them out to the terrified
woman.
<b> DUGGAN
</b> Do whatever they say, Terry.
MISS JENNINGS hurries to comply.
She unlocks the STEEL CAGE inside the big vault door.
Roach/Nixon and Grommet/LBJ take her inside with them.
A CUSTOMER, lying on the floor near the fat guard catches
his eye.
The guard, face jammed against the linoleum, blanches as
he sees the customer lift a corner of his shirt to reveal
THE BUTT OF A PISTOL. The customer mouths the words "I'm
a cop".
The guard is hyperventilating.
AT THE FRONT DOORS A WOMAN comes in out of the bright
sunlight.
JFK pulls her in fast and throws her to the floor. Then
goes back to watching the street.
JOHNNY is next to Bodhi/Reagan.
<b> UTAH
</b> You're blowing it, man! You're
breaking your own rules... pulling
too much time!
<b> BODHI/REAGAN
</b> JFK, how we doin'?
<b> NATHANIEL/JFK
</b> All clear, man!
INSIDE THE VAULT Grommet and Roach are pillaging rapidly.
Their hands blur as nice fat STACKS OF 20s and 100s are
dumped into canvas sacks.
ON THE MAIN FLOOR the OFF DUTY COP slips his hands slowly
around the butt of his pistol, concealing the move with
his body.
He signals with his eyes to the fat guard, glancing at the
guard's ankle.
TIGHT ON THE GUARD'S ANKLE where we can see a sliver of
BACK-UP GUN, a tiny .25 auto in an ankle holster.
The guard's eyes are pleading with the hard-on cop.
"Don't make me do this".
The guy is sweating, shaking. A yellow liquid spreads
across the tiles next to his quivering hips. He's
actually pissing himself, he's so scared.
TIGHT ON the off-duty cop. Watching like a ferret. He
cocks his .38.
ECU GUARD'S EYES, wide with terror.
It happens like lightning. The cop pops to his knees,
straight-arming the .38. The guard goes for his ankle
holster.
REAGAN spins.
The cop FIRES. BLAM!
Reagan is catapulted backward off the counter by the
impact.
He crashes onto a desk on his back. Slides off,
scattering papers.
A teller screams. The cop spins toward Utah.
Johnny throws down the shotgun. Shows his palms. He's
holding out his gold star.
<b> UTAH
</b> Federal agent! Undercover!
The cop FIRES TWICE. Two in the chest. Utah is hurled
back. Slams into the tellers' counter.
NATHANIEL/LBJ lets go with the 12 gauge. BOOM!
The cop spins, hit by some 00 buck pellets.
The guard caps-off like a maniac. BLAM, BLAM, BLAM,
<b>BLAM!!!
</b>All of them wild, but serving to get Nathaniel pinned down
behind a check-writing island.
ROACH/NIXON LEAPS THE COUNTER and lands behind the guard.
The guard's shoulder explodes as Roach's 12 gauge
detonates. He pitches onto his face, screaming and
holding the wreckage of his upper arm.
Grommet/LBJ is coming over the counter behind Roach as the
off-duty cop spins and fires. BLAM! BLAM! Roach takes
it in the chest. Staggers back, firing into the floor.
Trips and drops his shotgun.
Grommet clutches his throat as blood streams over his
fingers.
IN SLOW MOTION Reagan's face rises above the counter.
The mask is askew. In order to see, Bodhi pulls it off.
The Casull comes up in a slow, deliberate arc as--
THE COP turns, terrified now, whipping his gun around,
nightmarishly slow as--
BODHI COCKS THE CASULL in dream-time and--
KABOOOOM!!! The world's most powerful handgun proves its
claim at 2000 feet per second.
A gout of hamburger explodes out of the cop's chest.
He is lifted off his feet. Hits and slides across the
floor leaving a two-foot wide red smear.
Echoes slap the walls. Then all is still. Plaintive
whimpering and moaning. The air is blue with smoke.
Johnny is trying to catch his breath. He rips his shirt
open to see two deep indentations in the Second Chance
vest. Flattened .38 slugs caught in the Kevlar mesh. But
no blood.
Bodhi drops over the counter near Utah.
The two men look at each other.
Bodhi's eyes seem lost. He stares around at the carnage
he has wrought, the bloody wreckage of his ego game.
His expression changes to something new -- truly crazed
now. We feel that the madness which has been held in
check so long has been let off its leash.
<b> BODHI
</b> Don't anybody fucking move!
Roach, clutching his side, moves to Grommet, who is on his
knees.
Beneath LBJ's stony countenance a river of blood flows
down Grommet's chest. Roach pulls off the mask.
Revealing a terrified kid.
Grommet pulls his blood-drenched hand away from his
throat, stares at it bug-eyed.
<b> GROMMET
</b> Oh no, oh my god, oh god... it's all
comin' out man, gotta stop it...
it's all gonna come out... do
something!!
He's trying to hold it in with his hands. This doesn't
work.
A paste-white frightened kid. Eighteen years old.
Suddenly realizing that this is not some video game. That
death is real.
He slumps back, losing the battle for consciousness.
<b>WE HEAR SIRENS APPROACHING.
</b>
<b> ROACH
</b> (freaking to Bodhi)
We gotta bug out, man! We're eatin'
it bad on this one. Let's go!
Bodhi reaches down and picks up Johnny's FBI shield off
the floor.
He considers it for a long time. Then looks up at Johnny.
His eyes seem to ask for forgiveness...
A moment before he smashes the Casull into Johnny's skull.
JOHNNY'S POV, as he drops to his knees. Everything going
dark as we see Bodhi's face distantly, his mouth moving
slowly...
<b> BODHI
</b> Goodbye, Johnny.
The floor rushes up and smashes us in the face.
A view of shoes, running away from us, leaving bloody
footprints. Then total darkness.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT./ EXT. FIRST SECURITY BANK - LATER
</b>
Ten minutes later the bank "crime scene" is in full swing.
UNIFORM COPS are everywhere, trying to get statements from
sobbing witnesses. HARP, MUNOZ, COLE AND PAPPAS represent
the FBI contingent. Cole has one arm strapped to his body
in a fairly elaborate sling, and he moves slowly.
Harp is barking orders to everyone in sight. Outside
(visible beyond the doors) it's total pandemonium, with
cops and ambulances, and of course a huge crowd of
rubberneckers. A MINICAM CREW shows up. Harp starts
shouting at them.
COLE, with evident pleasure, cinches down a pair of
handcuff's on Utah's wrists with his good hand. Johnny
has a deep cut on his forehead, and the blood is trickling
into his eyes, but he seems not to notice. Not to hear
MUNOZ speaking monotonously--
<b> MUNOZ
</b> -- if you so desire, an attorney
will be provided for you free of
cost. Do you understand these
rights I have explained to you?
Utah?
Pappas charges through the crowd, pushing Munoz aside.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> He knows his goddamn rights!
(looks at Utah)
Jesus, kid. I knew you were getting
too close to these guys.
(turns to the other
agents)
Gimme the goddamn key to these
things, Cole. Christ!
He gestures to the cuffs still cutting into Johnny's
wrists.
Cole hands him the key.
Harp storms toward them.
<b> HARP
</b> Don't take those off. Just leave
them on! Your partner's an
accessory to murder. You realize
that?
Harp spins Johnny by the shoulder to look at--
Paramedics carrying the covered body of the off-duty cop.
Beyond, still on the floor, is Grommet, his eyes staring
in death.
He was right about not making thirty.
<b> HARP
</b> Three men dead. One of them a cop.
How's that sit in your gut, Utah?
<b> UTAH
</b> (cold and scary)
Take your hand off my shoulder right
now.
Harp pulls back instinctively. Utah's eyes burn into him.
Looks like Johnny's not in the FBI anymore.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Look, Harp. Don't turn him over to
the uniforms like some punk. Let me
ride him in.
<b> HARP
</b> Yeah, sure. Why not? You two
screw-ups deserve each other.
That's why I put you together in the
first place. Christ Pappas, you're
as bad as he is... talk about the
blind leading the blind--
Pappas steps close to the Supervising Agent.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Harp, let me tell you something. I
was an agent in this bureau when
your mommy was still wiping your
shinny pink ass, and you know one
thing I learned in all those years
that you still haven't?
<b> HARP
</b> What that?
Angelo steps in with a roundhouse that has all of his 280
pounds behind it.
Harp's head snaps back, and he flops in a heap.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Respect your elders.
(he takes Utah by
the arm)
Let's go kid.
Harp struggles to sit up, rubbing his jaw, as Pappas
stuffs Utah into his car. Harp is so shocked he doesn't
say a word.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>INT. PAPPAS' CAR
</b>
They drive for a couple of blocks in silence, side by
side.
Utah in disgrace. Contrite. Stony. Finally...
<b> UTAH
</b> I know where they're going.
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Figured you did.
Angelo flips Johnny the key.
Johnny lets himself out of the cuffs. He sits rubbing his
wrists.
<b> UTAH
</b> Only problem is... we can't arrest
them or shoot them.
ON PAPPAS' "what the fuck?!" expression we--
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. SANTA MONICA AIRPORT
</b>
LONG LENS SHOT through a forest of small planes as Pappas'
sedan glides INTO FRAME. It moves sharklike among through
the Cessna forest. Slows to a stop.
Through the jungle of wings and fuselages we see Pappas
get out of the car and start working his way among the
aircraft.
Utah slides behind the wheel and drives on.
TIGHT ON TURBOPROP ENGINE roaring as it warms up.
The same aircraft as before.
Bodhi and Nathaniel are loading duffel bags into the open
back door as the pilot completes his pre-flight checks.
The Ex-President's suits have been removed, along with the
body armor, and no guns are in sight. Just a couple of
guys getting ready for a charter flight. Bodhi looks up
and stops his work as...
THE FBI SEDAN stops about 50 feet away.
Nathaniel pulls a shotgun out of one of the duffels.
Utah gets out. He holds his hands out from his body and
turns completely around. Without his jacket on, it is
evident that he is not carrying a gun.
He walks forward.
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm not armed.
<b> BODHI
</b> But you're not alone.
<b> UTAH
</b> Good guess. There's a gun on you
right now.
Bodhi feigns casual interest. Looks around. He can't
see...
PAPPAS nearby. Moving cat-like behind a row of service
vehicles. He gets his snubnose .38 propped on the bumper
of one, with a clear shot at Bodhi and Nathaniel.
<b> UTAH
</b> Where's Roach?
<b> BODHI
</b> Around somewhere. Listen, I'm in
kind of a hurry, Johnny U. What can
I do for you?
<b> UTAH
</b> You gotta tell me where she is.
<b> BODHI
</b> And let my policy expire? Sorry.
<b> UTAH
</b> Look, Bodhi man. People are dead.
The ride is over.
<b> BODHI
</b> I say when it's over!
<b> UTAH
</b> The guy you killed was an off duty
cop! If you get out of here they'll
nail you wherever you land. They
have a new thing called radar.
Maybe you've heard of it.
Though he can't hear what's going on. THE PILOT has
clocked the tension between the two men. And the shotgun
in Nathaniel's hands. He blanches, and starts to shut
down the plane's power.
By his reaction we see that he's obviously not in on it.
ROACH comes out of the hangar building nearby. Neither
Utah nor Pappas see him. But he sees Pappas drawn down on
Bodhi. He drops quickly to one knee and opens the duffel
he was carrying.
TIGHT ON DUFFEL BAG, as it opens. The pistol grip of a 12
gauge riot-gun sticks out of lots and lots of money.
Roach's hand slides the gun out slowly.
UTAH IS VERY CLOSE to Bodhi.
<b> UTAH
</b> I know you man, when they fall on
you, you won't back down. They'll
have to burn your ass to the ground.
And I can't stop them... I'm the
last person they're ready to listen
to right now. Thanks to you.
<b> UTAH
</b> Shit may or may not happen.
<b> UTAH
</b> Look, you got a death wish, you want
to ride to glory... fine! But don't
take her with you, man. I'm begging
you... tell me where she is. Then I
walk away. We've earned that much
trust, haven't we?
The pilot opens the door and is climbing out when
Nathaniel wheels on him. The pilot goes cross-eyed
staring down the muzzle of the 12 gauge, inches from his
face.
<b> BODHI
</b> (to the pilot)
Back in the hotseat, campadre.
<b> NOW!
</b>
BEHIND THE TRUCKS, Pappas senses something.
His head snaps around.
Roach is behind him with the 12 gauge. He FIRES.
Pappas hurls his weight sideways, as the buckshot punches
into the truck fender. Some of it catches Pappas in the
hip. He hits the ground hard and whips up the .38 BAM!
<b>BAM! BAM!
</b>Roach flips onto his back.
The shotgun blows a hole in the sky as he hits the deck.
Pappas is on the ground, totally exposed, 20 feet from the
others.
NATHANIEL fires once, wild. Terrified. His shot blows a
divot out of the asphalt next to Pappas.
He pumps the slide, chambering another round.
Then Pappas' fourth and fifth rounds drill into him.
He slams back against the Cessna's fuselage.
Slides down. Two red smears on the white aircraft.
Bodhi lunges for the fallen 12 gauge.
Pappas takes aim. One round left.
Utah sprints between them.
<b> UTAH
</b> Angelo! Don't fire!
<b> PAPPAS
</b> Kid, get outta the way!!
<b> UTAH
</b><b> NOOO!!
</b>
Utah is blocking Bodhi with his body.
Bodhi's fingers are poised, frozen, a few inches from the
shotgun.
Standoff.
<b> PAPPAS
</b><b> GODDAMMIT!!
</b>
He snaps the pistol up, aimed at the sky.
Pappas stands panting. Enraged and frustrated. Pain
searing his leg. Everything is tense and electrified.
BOOM!! Pappas' chest EXPLODES with a spray of blood!
BEHIND HIM, ROACH is lying on one elbow in a pool of
scarlet.
He cocks another round into the chamber and fires again.
<b>BOOM!
</b>
Angelo drops to his knees, holding his ruined body like
he's hugging himself. Johnny lunges toward him, his face
distorted with shock.
<b> UTAH
</b><b> NNNOOOOOO!!!
</b>
Angelo's eyes meet his for a moment.
In his dilated pupils is the great question.
Then he slumps forward and lies very still.
The breath leaves his body and doesn't go back in.
Johnny moves toward his friend in a daze. Drops to one
knee beside him.
Roach aims the shotgun at him, coughing blood.
Utah doesn't notice. Or is beyond caring.
Bodhi holds his hand up in a gesture like a benediction.
Roach's finger relaxes on the trigger.
Utah puts his hand on Angelo's white crewcut hair.
He hears the scraping of steel on asphalt behind him as
Bodhi picks up the other twelve gauge.
Roach is working himself to his knees. His breath is
sucking through a bloody hole in his chest as well as the
customary breathing orifices. Bodhi crosses to him and
helps him up. He covers Utah with the shot gun as he
half-carries Roach to the plane. The pilot is white with
shock. He'd run if he could remember how.
<b> PILOT
</b> I ain't flyin' you guys to San
Phillipe man, forget it. Not now--
<b> BODHI
</b> Thanks for telling the nice FBI
agent where we're going.
Roach works his way up into the plane. He waves the
shotgun at the pilot, his face a vicious, blood-flecked
mask.
<b> ROACH
</b> Get in the fucking plane.
Bodhi stands behind Johnny, the shotgun aimed at his head.
Their expressions are lethally cold.
We see that Utah hates this man who was his friend, his
teacher, more now than he dreamed it was possible to hate.
<b> BODHI
</b> We're gonna ride this out, all the
way, Johnny. You and me. Let's go.
Johnny nods slowly, as if accepting that this was all
somehow pre-ordained, and that they both knew the game
would take them this far and beyond. He stands and walks
to the plane.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. MEXICO - DAY
</b>
<b>THE SCREEN EXPLODES WITH A BLUR OF MOTION.
</b>POV of the ground racing below us at 180 mph.
REVERSE, preceding the plane as it rockets through barren
canyons.
As close to the earth as the terrified pilot will take it.
Under the radar.
<b>INT. PLANE
</b>
The aircraft bucks like a bull as the pilot jinks and
banks wildly.
Bodhi has the Casull aimed at the base of his skull from
the jump seat just behind him.
Roach holds the shotgun on Utah, seated across from him in
the rear seats.
Roach is a pale, sweaty mask. He is propped against a
bulkhead, seemingly collapsed in on himself like a
discarded coat.
His entire shirtfront and lap are slick with blood.
But his gaze is steady, and the shotgun is aimed into
Utah's guts.
No one talks or moves on this grim hell-ride.
<b>EXT. ARROYO
</b>
Near noon. The sun blisters a landscape out of time.
The white Cessna rockets above the saguaros, its shadow
pumping up and down over the broken terrain like some
manic alter ego below it. It WOOSHES over us, raising
dust devils.
<b>INT. PLANE
</b>
The pilot yells over his shoulder to Bodhi...
<b> PILOT
</b> Look, we been in Mexico the last
half hour... can I quit mowing the
lawn here or what? I'm getting more
brush in the wheels than I usually
like, you know what I'm saying?!
<b> BODHI
</b> Yeah, get some height. Take her up
to eight thousand on this heading.
The pilot pulls back on the yoke and the plane climbs.
Bodhi moves back next to Roach, who's fading.
<b> ROACH
</b> We're gonna pop up on their screens.
<b> BODHI
</b> Doesn't matter now. We're almost
there, man. Here, let me help you
get your gear on.
Bodhi drags a parachute pack up onto the seat next to
Roach and starts helping him into the harness. Roach
keeps the shot gun pointed at Johnny.
<b> ROACH
</b> I'm cold.
<b> BODHI
</b> You're gonna be fine. Just fine.
Johnny, toss me that money bag will
you. Easy does it.
Utah hefts the duffel. Weighs its contents, and their
price.
<b> UTAH
</b> You're cold because all the blood is
running out of your body, Roach.
You're going to be dead soon.
(he tosses the bag)
I hope it was worth it.
Roach clutches the canvas sack to his chest like a Teddy
bear. Glares at Utah. He hooks the strap of the duffel
over one shoulder.
<b> BODHI
</b> Hey, Johnny's just trying to psych
you man, forget it. Just keep
thinking about all those senoritas
nursin' you back to health. Come
on, amigo, let's get you set for the
jump.
Bodhi props Roach next to the open door and takes a
walkie-talkie from the seat, keying it.
<b> BODHI
</b> Rosie, Rosie, this is Air Force One,
do you copy, over?
A burst of static is followed by a surprisingly clear
voice.
<b> ROSIE (V.O.)
</b> Copy you, Air Force One. We have a
visual on you. Lookin' fine.
<b> UTAH
</b> Tell him to release Tyler.
<b> BODHI
</b> Why should I?
<b> UTAH
</b> What if your chute fails, Bodhi?
Rescind the order. Let her off the
hook, she's served her purpose. Do
it, man, you owe me that much. Let
me hear it before you check out.
Bodhi meets his eyes and considers for a couple of
seconds, then keys the walkie.
<b> BODHI
</b> Rosie, listen carefully. Surgery
is canceled, is that clear? Repeat
it back to me.
<b> ROSIE (V.O.)
</b> Copy you. Surgery is canceled.
I'm lettin' the bitch go.
Bodhi looks out the doorway. Gauging distance, airspeed,
the geography below. He looks at Utah, aiming the Casull
at him.
Johnny stares back at him like a pit viper.
<b> BODHI
</b> I know it's hard for you Johnny.
You want me so bad it's like acid in
your mouth. But not his time.
(he braces Roach at
the door)
Let's go.
Bodhi signals the pilot and Utah feels the plane drop as
the engines are cut back to an idle. Bodhi slaps Roach on
the shoulder and Roach slumps backward out of the plane.
Bodhi braces to jump, looking at Johnny for a last split-
second.
<b> BODHI
</b> You lose, campadre.
He chucks the Casull onto the seat beside the door and
bails.
Bodhi tumbles out into space. It's over.
Utah's knuckles are white, gripping the seat. There's a
dynamo, spinning out of control in his head. He leaps up
in an explosion of rage and drives his fists into a
bulkhead. Looks around like a rabid animal. TWO SECONDS.
THREE SECONDS. Then...
<b> UTAH
</b><b> FUCK IT!!!
</b>
Utah grabs the Casull off the seat and dives out of the
plane.
<b>EXT. PLANE
</b>
UTAH, WITHOUT A PARACHUTE, but carrying a very large gun,
rockets downward. He presses his arms to his sides and
falls head-down, building speed.
Three hundred feet below him is Bodhi, freefalling in a
spread-eagle position. Utah moves his feet and hands,
angling toward him.
Bodhi doesn't see him. Falling flat, he tops out at
terminal velocity for that position. 130 mph.
Utah slashes downward at 160 mph. The gap between them
closes.
Utah is almost blinded by the windstream. His eyes burn.
His lips are peeled back by the blasting air.
Bodhi is eighty feet below him... 4000 feet to terra
firma.
Utah focuses all his incredible will and concentration.
He's only going to have one shot at this.
Bodhi is right below him.
Utah is closing like a SAM missile.
He trims a little, and...
WHAM! Slams into Bodhi in a mid-air tackle.
Bodhi's eyes are wide with amazement as they tumble
together.
Utah has made the grab and locked his arms around Bodhi in
an iron grip.
He pulls the Casull's muzzle up to Bodhi's head and
screams in his face.
<b> UTAH
</b> Pull the parachute!!
Bodhi looks at the gun. Looks at Utah. Grins wildly.
<b> BODHI
</b> Pretty radical, Johnny. Even for
you. Why don't you pull it?
<b> UTAH
</b> No games, Bodhi. Pull the cord!
Now!!
<b> BODHI
</b> Naw, you pull it!
Utah looks down. The earth is rushing at them. 2500
feet.
<b> BODHI
</b> Go on, Johnny. Pull it. But you
gotta drop the gun, first! Right?!
You use your other hand what you
gonna hold on with?
<b> UTAH
</b> Pull it right now or I'll blow your
fucking head off and pull it myself!
<b> BODHI
</b> Well that's the only way it's gonna
happen, man. Do it! Come on, you
want to do it. You're gonna die,
Johnny. Five more seconds. Four...
1000 feet. The ground is close enough to see details.
Cactus, sagebrush. They rocket past the bright yellow
canopy of Roach's chute a hundred feet away.
<b> UTAH
</b> You fucking crazy!? Pull it!!
They're right in each other's faces. Taking it way beyond
the edge.
Bodhi's eyes are wild. A gleeful, adrenalized madness...
his pupils are the entrance to Hell.
<b> BODHI
</b> Three seconds... two... one...
<b> UTAH
</b><b> SHIT!!
</b>
Utah flings the Casull away and pulls the rip-cord so hard
he almost loses his grip anyway. POOM! The canopy cracks
out.
Full and round and bright red.
The ground roars at us.
WHAP! Utah and Bodhi hit. Hard.
They slide and tumble down the slope of an arroyo in a
cloud of dust.
Rocks and debris clatter into silence.
NEARBY Roach hits the ground limp as a rag doll.
He moves listlessly as his chute lines tug at him but his
eyes stare without blinking right at the sun. Next to him
the money satchel's contents are spilled right into the
sand. Roach's lifeless hands lie limp among the bills
that caper in the desert wind.
UTAH AND BODHI are both completely still as the dust
clears. Finally they groan and stir. Necks move, hands
move, legs move. Bodhi rolls to his knees. He is cut and
scraped, the blood running bright down his dust-covered
skin.
Utah looks around, blinking.
Surreal that he should be plopped down here in the red-hot
Mexican desert.
Bodhi staggers to his feet and grins at him.
<b> BODHI
</b> Wild ride, huh?
<b> UTAH
</b> (gasping)
Jesus Christ, Bodhi!
Utah tries to rise and -- grabs his knee in agony. We see
by his mask of pain that it's totaled inside.
<b> BODHI
</b> That pesky knee, huh? Too bad.
He looks up at the sound of an engine.
BODHI'S POV of his big four-by roaring toward us with a
meteor tail of dust. It slides to a stop next to them.
Rosie gets out of the driver's side and stands calmly with
a sawed-off over his shoulder.
Utah blinks through his sweat and pain at--
TYLER running toward him out of the dust. She kneels next
to him and puts her arms around him. Bodhi limps to the
truck. Through the swirling dust we see him look back.
<b> BODHI
</b> You had me worried there, for a
second, Johnny U.
He swings up into the four-by and guns the engine. Rosie
hops into the shotgun seat and the truck hurls up
roostertails as it tears out across the desert toward
Roach's billowing gravemarker.
Johnny touches Tyler's face tenderly, leaving a smear of
blood.
He gives her a wan version of the Johnny Utah grin.
HOLD ON the truck moving off in a heat-shimmered cloud of
dust, becoming a mirage, then a memory as we--
<b> DISSOLVE TO:
</b>
AN ENORMOUS WAVE which FILLS FRAME, seeming to rise
endlessly before thundering down in a holocaust of spray.
<b>EXT. BEACH DAY - DAY
</b>
An unfamiliar beach laid waste by monster waves under a
storm sky.
Wind whips sand across the narrow beach-road, throwing it
against the front doors of the LIGHTHOUSE PUB.
<b>TITLE OVER: ONE YEAR LATER...
</b>
<b>INT. LIGHTHOUSE PUB - DAY
</b>
Dark. Almost empty. A snarling crocodile head is mounted
above a tapper of Guinness Stout. A Koala bear with
plastic eyes holds a Foster's. A BARTENDER with leathered
skin washes glasses.
At the bar, a single disheveled customer... human
driftwood.
GUST OF WIND blows open a shuttered window.
The bartender moves to close it.
<b> BARTENDER
</b> Gonna close early today, mate, 'fore
the bloody storm hits.
JOHNNY UTAH swivels toward CAMERA. His tanned face is
barely recognizable, jaws hidden underneath a slight
beard, long bleach-out hair swept behind an ear. His
muscular shoulders pop from a sleeveless football jersey.
The man seems deadly focused.
<b> UTAH
</b> Storm's already here... It's
bringing me the swell.
Johnny stares into his drink.
ANOTHER BLAST OF COLD as the front door opens.
Johnny turns at the sound.
TYLER takes a step inside. Her hair is different, more
bleached out, frazzled from the sun. Her eyes adjust to
the dark room.
<b> TYLER
</b> John, they're here.
Utah downs the drink and slides off his stool. He has a
pronounced limps as he crosses to Tyler at the door.
They exit into daylight under an old wooden sign which
reads: LIGHTHOUSE PUB - BELL'S BEACH, AUSTRALIA
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. LIGHTHOUSE PUB - DAY
</b>
UTAH and TYLER walk out onto the roadway as several
Australian Police cars converge on them. A dozen
uniformed OFFICERS step out. The ranking officer, a
fortyish LIEUTENANT, walks up to Utah.
<b> LIEUTENANT
</b> D'you see him, Mr. Utah?
<b> UTAH
</b> No. But he's here.
<b> LIEUTENANT
</b> Now, look, I know you used to be a
federal agent up in the states and
all that, but you're a citizen now,
so just find him and we'll handle it
from there.
<b> UTAH
</b> No problem. Just give me a couple
minutes with him first.
Johnny limps out across the huge expanse of sand alone.
<b> CUT TO:
</b>
<b>EXT. BELL'S BEACH - AUSTRALIA - DAY
</b>
WALL OF SOLID WATER FIVE STORIES HIGH CRASHES straight
down in a holocaust of spray...
Rising up from the ocean to meet a tormented sky, roll the
most terrifying waves any surfer has ever seen. They
close out, pummeling the ocean floor, casting a shockwave
up the shore.
SURFERS gather on the sand, gaze out to sea.
<b> 1ST SURFER
</b> Jesus Almighty, the bloody sand's
shakin'.
The beach sounds like a MORTAR RANGE.
JOHNNY passes among the brahs.
<b> 2ND SURFER
</b> Totally closed-out. It's fuckin'
death on a stick.
ON BODHI, sitting crosslegged in the sand, arms folded
around his knees. He stares pensively out at the waves.
His hand reaches out and absently strokes a surfboard
lying next to him.
<b> UTAH (V.O.)
</b> I knew you wouldn't miss the fifty
year storm, Bodhi.
Bodhi smiles, the odd smile of a sportsman who appreciates
the cunning of his opponent. Utah sits beside his prey
and stares at the ocean. Bodhi stares with glittering
eyes at the heaving ocean before him, face splitting into
that feral, death's head grin.
<b> BODHI
</b> And I always knew I could count on
you, Agent Utah.
<b> UTAH
</b> I'm not FBI anymore.
<b> BODHI
</b> You never were...
<b> UTAH
</b> I asked them to give me a couple
minutes...
Utah calmly glances over his shoulder.
Bodhi follows Johnny's gaze to the cops watching from the
road.
<b> BODHI
</b> It went bad, brah. Real bad.
(smiles inwardly)
I just felt it was time...
A BOOMING ROAR sounds from the ocean.
Bodhi just stares at the waves, with awe and perhaps fear.
<b> BODHI
</b> Time to dance with the universe.
(he turns to Utah)
I could never handle a jail cell.
You'll do this for me, won't you
Johnny? Haven't I earned this
much?
Utah doesn't move to stop him as he stands, hefting the
longboard.
He half smiles, then turns toward the water, and starts
walking.
He stops. Turns around.
<b> BODHI
</b> Thanks, brah.
Bodhi doesn't wait for a reply. He walks to the water's
edge, and never looks back. He throws his board into the
foam and paddles, the riptide pulling him out. The
monsters dwarf his body as they quickly suck him into the
trough of the holocaust.
UTAH stands and solemnly waits for the universe to deliver
final justice. The cops are running clumsily across the
sand, too late to stop Bodhi. Tyler steps up behind
Johnny, and puts her hands on his shoulders.
BODHI is nothing more than a SPECK as he shoots across the
lip of the colossal wave, carving the board downward -- AN
UNTHINKABLE FOREHAND BLAST sends him into a 180 degree
slide straight down the enormous face, eyes wild, his
mouth opens in a soundless howl -- Bodhi and the outer-
limits wave are locked for one impossible yet glorious
moment in perfect harmony, perfect symmetry, perfect
union... There is no fear in his face, only awe as the
mountain of water closes out, burying the Bodhisattva in a
whitewater grave... Pieces of broken surfboard explode
upward, only to fall back into the raging whiteness and
vanish.
UTAH remains pensive, eyes fixed on the riderless surf.
Tyler lowers her head. A fragment of surfboard washes up
onto wet sand. The wind gathers force.
Johnny finally turns to his woman, curls an arm around her
shoulder, gathering her close. Tears are streaming down
her face as she stares at the sea.
<b> UTAH
</b> He rode it all the way.
CAMERA PULLS BACK AND UP, rising high above their heads as
the liquid vertical walls continue to hammer the
Australian shore...
<b>FADE TO BLACK
</b>
</pre><br>
<table width="85%" border="0" align="center" cellpadding="5" cellspacing="0" class="body" style="BORDER-TOP: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-RIGHT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-LEFT: #000000 1px solid; BORDER-BOTTOM: #000000 1px solid;">
<tr>
<td align=center>
<td><h1>Point Break</h1><br><br>
<b>Writers</b> : <a href="/writer.php?w=W. Peter Iliff" title="Scripts by W. Peter Iliff">W. Peter Iliff</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Rick King" title="Scripts by Rick King">Rick King</a> <a href="/writer.php?w=Kathryn Bigelow" title="Scripts by Kathryn Bigelow">Kathryn Bigelow</a><br>
<b>Genres</b> : <a href="/genre/Action" title="Action Scripts">Action</a> <a href="/genre/Crime" title="Crime Scripts">Crime</a> <a href="/genre/Adventure" title="Adventure Scripts">Adventure</a> <a href="/genre/Thriller" title="Thriller Scripts">Thriller</a> <a href="/genre/Drama" title="Drama Scripts">Drama</a><br><br><br>
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</td>
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Question: When does Bodhi tell Utah that he knows he is an FBI agent?
Answer: When they are skydiving
|
{
"task_name": "narrativeqa"
}
|
Passage 1:
Ben-Hur (2016 film)
Ben- Hur is a 2016 American epic historical drama film directed by Timur Bekmambetov and written by Keith Clarke and John Ridley. It is the fifth film adaptation of the 1880 novel by Lew Wallace following the 1907 silent short film, the, the Academy Award- winning 1959 film and the 2003 animated film of the same name. It is the third version of" Ben- Hur" released by Metro- Goldwyn- Mayer. It has been termed a" re-adaptationreimagining", and" new interpretation" of the novel. The film stars Jack Huston, Morgan Freeman, Toby Kebbell, Nazanin Boniadi, Haluk Bilginer, and Rodrigo Santoro. Principal photography began on February 2, 2015 in Matera, Italy and lasted about five months, finishing in June 2015. " Ben- Hur" premiered on August 9, 2016 in Mexico City and was theatrically released by Paramount Pictures and Metro- Goldwyn- Mayer on August 19, 2016 in the United States in 2D, 3D, RealD 3D, Digital 3D, and IMAX 3D. The film received generally negative reviews and was a box office bomb, grossing$ 94.1 million worldwide against its$ 87–100 million production budget plus a large amount spent on marketing and distribution.
Passage 2:
Toby Kebbell
Tobias Alistair Patrick Kebbell( born July 9, 1982) is an English stage and film actor. He is known for his roles in films such as" Dead Man's Shoes"( 2004)," RocknRolla"( 2008),( 2010)," War Horse"( 2011)," Wrath of the Titans"( 2012)," Dawn of the Planet of the Apes"( 2014)," Fantastic Four"( 2015)," Warcraft"( 2016)," A Monster Calls"( 2016)," Ben- Hur"( 2016), and" Gold"( 2016). He is also known for his work in the" Black Mirror" episode" The Entire History of You". He also starred in the second film of the MonsterVerse film series,, which was released in March 2017, and the Apple TV+ series" Servant" in 2019.
Passage 3:
Ben-Hur Moreira Peres
Ben- Hur Moreira Peres( born May 12, 1977 in Bagé), or simply Ben- Hur, is a Brazilian football midfielder, who plays for Trindade Atlético Clube. < br>
Passage 4:
Day of the Painter
Day of the Painter is a 1960 American short film directed by Robert P. Davis. It was filmed at Mamaroneck Harbor in Mamaroneck, NY.
Passage 5:
Autohead
Autohead is a 2016 film directed by Rohit Mittal.
Passage 6:
The North Star (2016 film)
The North Star is a 2016 film about slavery and the underground railroad.
Passage 7:
Claude Weisz
Claude Weisz is a French film director born in Paris.
Passage 8:
Robert P. Davis
Robert P. Davis( October 8, 1929 – November 7, 2005) was an American author, screenwriter, and film director whose works are primarily centered on aviation. His 1960 short film," Day of the Painter", won an Academy Award in 1961 for Best Short Subject. Davis's 1976 novel" The Pilot," about an alcohol- abusing airline captain, served as the source material for his screenplay for the motion picture of the same title, released in 1980, in which Cliff Robertson acted out the lead role and which Robertson also directed.
Passage 9:
Timur Bekmambetov
Timur Nuruakhitovich Bekmambetov( born June 25, 1961) is a Russian- Kazakh director, producer and screenwriter who has worked on films, music videos and commercials. He is best known for the film" Night Watch"( 2004) and its sequel" Day Watch"( 2006), and the American films" Wanted"( 2008) and( 2012).
Passage 10:
Sepideh Farsi
Sepideh Farsi is an Iranian film director, born in Tehran in 1965.
Question: Which film has the director born earlier, Ben-Hur (2016 Film) or Day Of The Painter?
Answer: Day Of The Painter
|
{
"task_name": "2WikiMultihopQA"
}
|
/*
* Licensed to Elasticsearch under one or more contributor
* license agreements. See the NOTICE file distributed with
* this work for additional information regarding copyright
* ownership. Elasticsearch licenses this file to you under
* the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License"); you may
* not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing,
* software distributed under the License is distributed on an
* "AS IS" BASIS, WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY
* KIND, either express or implied. See the License for the
* specific language governing permissions and limitations
* under the License.
*/
package org.elasticsearch.action.search;
import org.elasticsearch.action.ActionListener;
import org.elasticsearch.action.OriginalIndices;
import org.elasticsearch.action.support.IndicesOptions;
import org.elasticsearch.cluster.ClusterState;
import org.elasticsearch.cluster.routing.GroupShardsIterator;
import org.elasticsearch.common.UUIDs;
import org.elasticsearch.common.collect.Tuple;
import org.elasticsearch.index.Index;
import org.elasticsearch.index.query.MatchAllQueryBuilder;
import org.elasticsearch.index.shard.ShardId;
import org.elasticsearch.search.SearchPhaseResult;
import org.elasticsearch.search.SearchShardTarget;
import org.elasticsearch.search.internal.AliasFilter;
import org.elasticsearch.search.internal.InternalSearchResponse;
import org.elasticsearch.search.internal.ShardSearchContextId;
import org.elasticsearch.search.internal.ShardSearchRequest;
import org.elasticsearch.test.ESTestCase;
import org.elasticsearch.transport.Transport;
import java.util.ArrayList;
import java.util.Collections;
import java.util.HashSet;
import java.util.List;
import java.util.Set;
import java.util.concurrent.CopyOnWriteArraySet;
import java.util.concurrent.TimeUnit;
import java.util.concurrent.atomic.AtomicLong;
import java.util.concurrent.atomic.AtomicReference;
import java.util.function.BiFunction;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.equalTo;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.greaterThanOrEqualTo;
import static org.hamcrest.Matchers.instanceOf;
public class AbstractSearchAsyncActionTests extends ESTestCase {
private final List<Tuple<String, String>> resolvedNodes = new ArrayList<>();
private final Set<ShardSearchContextId> releasedContexts = new CopyOnWriteArraySet<>();
private AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> createAction(SearchRequest request,
ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> results,
ActionListener<SearchResponse> listener,
final boolean controlled,
final AtomicLong expected) {
final Runnable runnable;
final TransportSearchAction.SearchTimeProvider timeProvider;
if (controlled) {
runnable = () -> expected.set(randomNonNegativeLong());
timeProvider = new TransportSearchAction.SearchTimeProvider(0, 0, expected::get);
} else {
runnable = () -> {
long elapsed = spinForAtLeastNMilliseconds(randomIntBetween(1, 10));
expected.set(elapsed);
};
timeProvider = new TransportSearchAction.SearchTimeProvider(
0,
System.nanoTime(),
System::nanoTime);
}
BiFunction<String, String, Transport.Connection> nodeIdToConnection = (cluster, node) -> {
resolvedNodes.add(Tuple.tuple(cluster, node));
return null;
};
return new AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult>("test", logger, null, nodeIdToConnection,
Collections.singletonMap("foo", new AliasFilter(new MatchAllQueryBuilder())), Collections.singletonMap("foo", 2.0f),
null, request, listener,
new GroupShardsIterator<>(
Collections.singletonList(
new SearchShardIterator(null, null, Collections.emptyList(), null)
)
), timeProvider, ClusterState.EMPTY_STATE, null,
results, request.getMaxConcurrentShardRequests(),
SearchResponse.Clusters.EMPTY) {
@Override
protected SearchPhase getNextPhase(final SearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> results, SearchPhaseContext context) {
return null;
}
@Override
protected void executePhaseOnShard(final SearchShardIterator shardIt, final SearchShardTarget shard,
final SearchActionListener<SearchPhaseResult> listener) {
}
@Override
long buildTookInMillis() {
runnable.run();
return super.buildTookInMillis();
}
@Override
public void sendReleaseSearchContext(ShardSearchContextId contextId, Transport.Connection connection,
OriginalIndices originalIndices) {
releasedContexts.add(contextId);
}
};
}
public void testTookWithControlledClock() {
runTestTook(true);
}
public void testTookWithRealClock() {
runTestTook(false);
}
private void runTestTook(final boolean controlled) {
final AtomicLong expected = new AtomicLong();
AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> action = createAction(new SearchRequest(),
new ArraySearchPhaseResults<>(10), null, controlled, expected);
final long actual = action.buildTookInMillis();
if (controlled) {
// with a controlled clock, we can assert the exact took time
assertThat(actual, equalTo(TimeUnit.NANOSECONDS.toMillis(expected.get())));
} else {
// with a real clock, the best we can say is that it took as long as we spun for
assertThat(actual, greaterThanOrEqualTo(TimeUnit.NANOSECONDS.toMillis(expected.get())));
}
}
public void testBuildShardSearchTransportRequest() {
SearchRequest searchRequest = new SearchRequest().allowPartialSearchResults(randomBoolean());
final AtomicLong expected = new AtomicLong();
AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> action = createAction(searchRequest,
new ArraySearchPhaseResults<>(10), null, false, expected);
String clusterAlias = randomBoolean() ? null : randomAlphaOfLengthBetween(5, 10);
SearchShardIterator iterator = new SearchShardIterator(clusterAlias, new ShardId(new Index("name", "foo"), 1),
Collections.emptyList(), new OriginalIndices(new String[] {"name", "name1"}, IndicesOptions.strictExpand()));
ShardSearchRequest shardSearchTransportRequest = action.buildShardSearchRequest(iterator, 10);
assertEquals(IndicesOptions.strictExpand(), shardSearchTransportRequest.indicesOptions());
assertArrayEquals(new String[] {"name", "name1"}, shardSearchTransportRequest.indices());
assertEquals(new MatchAllQueryBuilder(), shardSearchTransportRequest.getAliasFilter().getQueryBuilder());
assertEquals(2.0f, shardSearchTransportRequest.indexBoost(), 0.0f);
assertArrayEquals(new String[] {"name", "name1"}, shardSearchTransportRequest.indices());
assertEquals(clusterAlias, shardSearchTransportRequest.getClusterAlias());
}
public void testSendSearchResponseDisallowPartialFailures() {
SearchRequest searchRequest = new SearchRequest().allowPartialSearchResults(false);
AtomicReference<Exception> exception = new AtomicReference<>();
ActionListener<SearchResponse> listener = ActionListener.wrap(response -> fail("onResponse should not be called"), exception::set);
Set<ShardSearchContextId> requestIds = new HashSet<>();
List<Tuple<String, String>> nodeLookups = new ArrayList<>();
int numFailures = randomIntBetween(1, 5);
ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> phaseResults = phaseResults(requestIds, nodeLookups, numFailures);
AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> action = createAction(searchRequest, phaseResults, listener, false, new AtomicLong());
for (int i = 0; i < numFailures; i++) {
ShardId failureShardId = new ShardId("index", "index-uuid", i);
String failureClusterAlias = randomBoolean() ? null : randomAlphaOfLengthBetween(5, 10);
String failureNodeId = randomAlphaOfLengthBetween(5, 10);
action.onShardFailure(i, new SearchShardTarget(failureNodeId, failureShardId, failureClusterAlias, OriginalIndices.NONE),
new IllegalArgumentException());
}
action.sendSearchResponse(InternalSearchResponse.empty(), phaseResults.results);
assertThat(exception.get(), instanceOf(SearchPhaseExecutionException.class));
SearchPhaseExecutionException searchPhaseExecutionException = (SearchPhaseExecutionException)exception.get();
assertEquals(0, searchPhaseExecutionException.getSuppressed().length);
assertEquals(numFailures, searchPhaseExecutionException.shardFailures().length);
for (ShardSearchFailure shardSearchFailure : searchPhaseExecutionException.shardFailures()) {
assertThat(shardSearchFailure.getCause(), instanceOf(IllegalArgumentException.class));
}
assertEquals(nodeLookups, resolvedNodes);
assertEquals(requestIds, releasedContexts);
}
public void testOnPhaseFailure() {
SearchRequest searchRequest = new SearchRequest().allowPartialSearchResults(false);
AtomicReference<Exception> exception = new AtomicReference<>();
ActionListener<SearchResponse> listener = ActionListener.wrap(response -> fail("onResponse should not be called"), exception::set);
Set<ShardSearchContextId> requestIds = new HashSet<>();
List<Tuple<String, String>> nodeLookups = new ArrayList<>();
ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> phaseResults = phaseResults(requestIds, nodeLookups, 0);
AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> action = createAction(searchRequest, phaseResults, listener, false, new AtomicLong());
action.onPhaseFailure(new SearchPhase("test") {
@Override
public void run() {
}
}, "message", null);
assertThat(exception.get(), instanceOf(SearchPhaseExecutionException.class));
SearchPhaseExecutionException searchPhaseExecutionException = (SearchPhaseExecutionException)exception.get();
assertEquals("message", searchPhaseExecutionException.getMessage());
assertEquals("test", searchPhaseExecutionException.getPhaseName());
assertEquals(0, searchPhaseExecutionException.shardFailures().length);
assertEquals(0, searchPhaseExecutionException.getSuppressed().length);
assertEquals(nodeLookups, resolvedNodes);
assertEquals(requestIds, releasedContexts);
}
public void testShardNotAvailableWithDisallowPartialFailures() {
SearchRequest searchRequest = new SearchRequest().allowPartialSearchResults(false);
AtomicReference<Exception> exception = new AtomicReference<>();
ActionListener<SearchResponse> listener = ActionListener.wrap(response -> fail("onResponse should not be called"), exception::set);
int numShards = randomIntBetween(2, 10);
ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> phaseResults =
new ArraySearchPhaseResults<>(numShards);
AbstractSearchAsyncAction<SearchPhaseResult> action = createAction(searchRequest, phaseResults, listener, false, new AtomicLong());
// skip one to avoid the "all shards failed" failure.
SearchShardIterator skipIterator = new SearchShardIterator(null, null, Collections.emptyList(), null);
skipIterator.resetAndSkip();
action.skipShard(skipIterator);
// expect at least 2 shards, so onPhaseDone should report failure.
action.onPhaseDone();
assertThat(exception.get(), instanceOf(SearchPhaseExecutionException.class));
SearchPhaseExecutionException searchPhaseExecutionException = (SearchPhaseExecutionException)exception.get();
assertEquals("Partial shards failure (" + (numShards - 1) + " shards unavailable)",
searchPhaseExecutionException.getMessage());
assertEquals("test", searchPhaseExecutionException.getPhaseName());
assertEquals(0, searchPhaseExecutionException.shardFailures().length);
assertEquals(0, searchPhaseExecutionException.getSuppressed().length);
}
private static ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> phaseResults(Set<ShardSearchContextId> contextIds,
List<Tuple<String, String>> nodeLookups,
int numFailures) {
int numResults = randomIntBetween(1, 10);
ArraySearchPhaseResults<SearchPhaseResult> phaseResults = new ArraySearchPhaseResults<>(numResults + numFailures);
for (int i = 0; i < numResults; i++) {
ShardSearchContextId contextId = new ShardSearchContextId(UUIDs.randomBase64UUID(), randomNonNegativeLong());
contextIds.add(contextId);
SearchPhaseResult phaseResult = new PhaseResult(contextId);
String resultClusterAlias = randomBoolean() ? null : randomAlphaOfLengthBetween(5, 10);
String resultNodeId = randomAlphaOfLengthBetween(5, 10);
ShardId resultShardId = new ShardId("index", "index-uuid", i);
nodeLookups.add(Tuple.tuple(resultClusterAlias, resultNodeId));
phaseResult.setSearchShardTarget(new SearchShardTarget(resultNodeId, resultShardId, resultClusterAlias, OriginalIndices.NONE));
phaseResult.setShardIndex(i);
phaseResults.consumeResult(phaseResult, () -> {});
}
return phaseResults;
}
private static final class PhaseResult extends SearchPhaseResult {
PhaseResult(ShardSearchContextId contextId) {
this.contextId = contextId;
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
/*
* Copyright (C) 2014 Haruki Hasegawa
*
* Licensed under the Apache License, Version 2.0 (the "License");
* you may not use this file except in compliance with the License.
* You may obtain a copy of the License at
*
* http://www.apache.org/licenses/LICENSE-2.0
*
* Unless required by applicable law or agreed to in writing, software
* distributed under the License is distributed on an "AS IS" BASIS,
* WITHOUT WARRANTIES OR CONDITIONS OF ANY KIND, either express or implied.
* See the License for the specific language governing permissions and
* limitations under the License.
*/
package com.hkm.mmedic.visualizer;
import android.content.Context;
import android.graphics.Canvas;
import android.graphics.Color;
import android.graphics.Paint;
import android.util.AttributeSet;
import android.view.SurfaceHolder;
import android.view.SurfaceView;
public class AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView
extends SurfaceView
implements SurfaceHolder.Callback {
@SuppressWarnings("unused")
private static final String TAG = "AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView";
private static final int MIN_LEVEL = -9600;
private DoubleBufferingManager mDoubleBufferingManager = new DoubleBufferingManager();
private Thread mRenderThread;
public AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView(Context context) {
super(context);
init();
}
public AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView(Context context, AttributeSet attrs) {
super(context, attrs);
init();
}
public AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView(Context context, AttributeSet attrs, int defStyle) {
super(context, attrs, defStyle);
init();
}
private void init() {
getHolder().addCallback(this);
}
@Override
public void surfaceCreated(final SurfaceHolder holder) {
final Object workObj = onCreateRenderThreadWorkingObj();
mDoubleBufferingManager.reset();
mRenderThread = new Thread(new Runnable() {
@Override
public void run() {
AudioLevelMeterSurfaceView.this.renderThreadFunc(holder, workObj);
}
});
mRenderThread.start();
}
@Override
public void surfaceChanged(SurfaceHolder holder, int format, int width, int height) {
mDoubleBufferingManager.redraw();
}
@Override
public void surfaceDestroyed(SurfaceHolder holder) {
mDoubleBufferingManager.stopWaiting();
if (mRenderThread != null) {
while (true) {
try {
mRenderThread.join();
break;
} catch (InterruptedException e) {
}
}
mRenderThread = null;
}
}
protected void renderThreadFunc(SurfaceHolder holder, Object workObj) {
DoubleBufferingManager dbm = mDoubleBufferingManager;
int level;
level = dbm.getAndSwapBuffer();
while (true) {
// render
Canvas canvas = null;
try {
canvas = holder.lockCanvas();
// clear background
canvas.drawColor(Color.BLACK);
onRenderLevelMeter(workObj, canvas, level);
} finally {
if (canvas != null) {
holder.unlockCanvasAndPost(canvas);
}
}
// wait for a new audio data
try {
level = dbm.waitForUpdate(-1);
} catch (DoubleBufferingManager.StopRequestedException e) {
// stop requested
break;
} catch (InterruptedException e) {
// timeout
}
}
}
protected Object onCreateRenderThreadWorkingObj() {
RenderThreadWork work = new RenderThreadWork();
work.mBarPaint = new Paint();
work.mBarPaint.setAntiAlias(false);
work.mBarPaint.setColor(Color.BLUE);
work.mBarPaint.setStyle(Paint.Style.FILL);
return work;
}
protected void onRenderLevelMeter(Object workObj, Canvas canvas, int level) {
final RenderThreadWork work = (RenderThreadWork) workObj;
final int canvasWidth = canvas.getWidth();
final int canvasHeight = canvas.getHeight();
float fLevel = 1.0f - (Math.max(level, MIN_LEVEL) * (1.0f / MIN_LEVEL));
// draw
{
// draw FFT bars
canvas.save();
canvas.scale(canvasWidth, canvasHeight);
canvas.drawRect(0.0f, (1.0f - fLevel), 1.0f, 1.0f, work.mBarPaint);
canvas.restore();
}
}
public void updateAudioLevel(int level) {
mDoubleBufferingManager.update(level);
}
private static final class RenderThreadWork {
Paint mBarPaint;
}
protected static final class DoubleBufferingManager {
private int[] mValues;
private int mIndex;
private boolean mUpdated;
private boolean mStopRequested;
public DoubleBufferingManager() {
mValues = new int[2]; // double-buffering
mValues[0] = MIN_LEVEL;
mValues[1] = MIN_LEVEL;
}
public synchronized void reset() {
mValues[0] = MIN_LEVEL;
mValues[1] = MIN_LEVEL;
mIndex = 0;
mUpdated = false;
mStopRequested = false;
}
public synchronized void stopWaiting() {
mStopRequested = true;
this.notify();
}
public synchronized void update(int level) {
final int index = mIndex ^ 1;
mValues[index] = level;
mUpdated = true;
this.notify();
}
public synchronized void redraw() {
mUpdated = true;
this.notify();
}
public synchronized int getAndSwapBuffer() {
if (mUpdated) {
// swap buffer
mIndex ^= 1;
mUpdated = false;
}
return mValues[mIndex];
}
private static final class StopRequestedException extends InterruptedException {
private static final long serialVersionUID = -561722403846626829L;
}
public int waitForUpdate(int timeoutMillis) throws InterruptedException {
synchronized (this) {
try {
while (!mUpdated && !mStopRequested) {
if (timeoutMillis >= 0) {
this.wait(timeoutMillis);
} else {
// infinite
this.wait();
}
}
} catch (InterruptedException e) {
}
if (mStopRequested) {
throw new StopRequestedException();
}
if (mUpdated) {
return getAndSwapBuffer();
}
// timeout
throw new InterruptedException();
}
}
}
}
|
{
"task_name": "lcc"
}
|
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