×

Wir verwenden Cookies, um LingQ zu verbessern. Mit dem Besuch der Seite erklärst du dich einverstanden mit unseren Cookie-Richtlinien.


image

1984 by George Orwell, Chapter 8 (3)

Chapter 8 (3)

Winston sat for a minute or two gazing at his empty glass, and hardly noticed when his feet carried him out into the street again. Within twenty years at the most, he reflected, the huge and simple question, ‘Was life better before the Revolution than it is now?' would have ceased once and for all to be answerable. But in effect it was unanswerable even now, since the few scattered survivors from the ancient world were incapable of comparing one age with another. They remembered a million useless things, a quarrel with a workmate, a hunt for a lost bicycle pump, the expression on a long-dead sister's face, the swirls of dust on a windy morning seventy years ago: but all the relevant facts were outside the range of their vision. They were like the ant, which can see small objects but not large ones. And when memory failed and written records were falsified — when that happened, the claim of the Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted, because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard against which it could be tested.

At this moment his train of thought stopped abruptly. He halted and looked up. He was in a narrow street, with a few dark little shops, interspersed among dwelling-houses. Immediately above his head there hung three discoloured metal balls which looked as if they had once been gilded. He seemed to know the place. Of course! He was standing outside the junk-shop where he had bought the diary.

A twinge of fear went through him. It had been a sufficiently rash act to buy the book in the beginning, and he had sworn never to come near the place again. And yet the instant that he allowed his thoughts to wander, his feet had brought him back here of their own accord. It was precisely against suicidal impulses of this kind that he had hoped to guard himself by opening the diary. At the same time he noticed that although it was nearly twenty-one hours the shop was still open. With the feeling that he would be less conspicuous inside than hanging about on the pavement, he stepped through the doorway. If questioned, he could plausibly say that he was trying to buy razor blades.

The proprietor had just lighted a hanging oil lamp which gave off an unclean but friendly smell. He was a man of perhaps sixty, frail and bowed, with a long, benevolent nose, and mild eyes distorted by thick spectacles. His hair was almost white, but his eyebrows were bushy and still black. His spectacles, his gentle, fussy movements, and the fact that he was wearing an aged jacket of black velvet, gave him a vague air of intellectuality, as though he had been some kind of literary man, or perhaps a musician. His voice was soft, as though faded, and his accent less debased than that of the majority of proles.

‘I recognized you on the pavement,' he said immediately. ‘You're the gentleman that bought the young lady's keepsake album. That was a beautiful bit of paper, that was. Cream-laid, it used to be called. There's been no paper like that made for — oh, I dare say fifty years.' He peered at Winston over the top of his spectacles. ‘Is there anything special I can do for you? Or did you just want to look round?

‘I was passing,' said Winston vaguely. ‘I just looked in. I don't want anything in particular.'

‘It's just as well,' said the other, ‘because I don't suppose I could have satisfied you.' He made an apologetic gesture with his softpalmed hand. ‘You see how it is; an empty shop, you might say. Between you and me, the antique trade's just about finished. No demand any longer, and no stock either. Furniture, china, glass it's all been broken up by degrees. And of course the metal stuff's mostly been melted down. I haven't seen a brass candlestick in years.'

The tiny interior of the shop was in fact uncomfortably full, but there was almost nothing in it of the slightest value. The floorspace was very restricted, because all round the walls were stacked innumerable dusty picture-frames. In the window there were trays of nuts and bolts, worn-out chisels, penknives with broken blades, tarnished watches that did not even pretend to be in going order, and other miscellaneous rubbish. Only on a small table in the corner was there a litter of odds and ends — lacquered snuffboxes, agate brooches, and the like — which looked as though they might include something interesting. As Winston wandered towards the table his eye was caught by a round, smooth thing that gleamed softly in the lamplight, and he picked it up.

It was a heavy lump of glass, curved on one side, flat on the other, making almost a hemisphere. There was a peculiar softness, as of rainwater, in both the colour and the texture of the glass. At the heart of it, magnified by the curved surface, there was a strange, pink, convoluted object that recalled a rose or a sea anemone.

‘What is it?' said Winston, fascinated.

‘That's coral, that is,' said the old man. ‘It must have come from the Indian Ocean. They used to kind of embed it in the glass. That wasn't made less than a hundred years ago. More, by the look of it.'

‘It's a beautiful thing,' said Winston.

‘It is a beautiful thing,' said the other appreciatively. ‘But there's not many that'd say so nowadays.' He coughed. ‘Now, if it so happened that you wanted to buy it, that'd cost you four dollars. I can remember when a thing like that would have fetched eight pounds, and eight pounds was — well, I can't work it out, but it was a lot of money. But who cares about genuine antiques nowadays — even the few that's left?'

Winston immediately paid over the four dollars and slid the coveted thing into his pocket. What appealed to him about it was not so much its beauty as the air it seemed to possess of belonging to an age quite different from the present one. The soft, rainwatery glass was not like any glass that he had ever seen. The thing was doubly attractive because of its apparent uselessness, though he could guess that it must once have been intended as a paperweight. It was very heavy in his pocket, but fortunately it did not make much of a bulge. It was a queer thing, even a compromising thing, for a Party member to have in his possession. Anything old, and for that matter anything beautiful, was always vaguely suspect. The old man had grown noticeably more cheerful after receiving the four dollars. Winston realized that he would have accepted three or even two.

‘There's another room upstairs that you might care to take a look at,' he said. ‘There's not much in it. Just a few pieces. We'll do with a light if we're going upstairs.'

He lit another lamp, and, with bowed back, led the way slowly up the steep and worn stairs and along a tiny passage, into a room which did not give on the street but looked out on a cobbled yard and a forest of chimney-pots. Winston noticed that the furniture was still arranged as though the room were meant to be lived in. There was a strip of carpet on the floor, a picture or two on the walls, and a deep, slatternly arm-chair drawn up to the fireplace. An old-fashioned glass clock with a twelve-hour face was ticking away on the mantelpiece. Under the window, and occupying nearly a quarter of the room, was an enormous bed with the mattress still on it.

‘We lived here till my wife died,' said the old man half apologetically. ‘I'm selling the furniture off by little and little. Now that's a beautiful mahogany bed, or at least it would be if you could get the bugs out of it. But I dare say you'd find it a little bit cumbersome.'

He was holding the lamp high up, so as to illuminate the whole room, and in the warm dim light the place looked curiously inviting. The thought flitted through Winston's mind that it would probably be quite easy to rent the room for a few dollars a week, if he dared to take the risk. It was a wild, impossible notion, to be abandoned as soon as thought of; but the room had awakened in him a sort of nostalgia, a sort of ancestral memory. It seemed to him that he knew exactly what it felt like to sit in a room like this, in an arm-chair beside an open fire with your feet in the fender and a kettle on the hob; utterly alone, utterly secure, with nobody watching you, no voice pursuing you, no sound except the singing of the kettle and the friendly ticking of the clock.

‘There's no telescreen!' he could not help murmuring.

‘Ah,' said the old man, ‘I never had one of those things. Too expensive. And I never seemed to feel the need of it, somehow. Now that's a nice gateleg table in the corner there. Though of course you'd have to put new hinges on it if you wanted to use the flaps.'

There was a small bookcase in the other corner, and Winston had already gravitated towards it. It contained nothing but rubbish. The hunting-down and destruction of books had been done with the same thoroughness in the prole quarters as everywhere else. It was very unlikely that there existed anywhere in Oceania a copy of a book printed earlier than 1q6o. The old man, still carrying the lamp, was standing in front of a picture in a rosewood frame which hung on the other side of the fireplace, opposite the bed.

‘Now, if you happen to be interested in old prints at all ——' he began delicately.

Winston came across to examine the picture. It was a steel engraving of an oval building with rectangular windows, and a small tower in front. There was a railing running round the building, and at the rear end there was what appeared to be a statue. Winston gazed at it for some moments. It seemed vaguely familiar, though he did not remember the statue.

‘The frame's fixed to the wall,' said the old man, ‘but I could unscrew it for you, I dare say.'

‘I know that building,' said Winston finally. ‘It's a ruin now.

It's in the middle of the street outside the Palace of Justice.'

‘That's right. Outside the Law Courts. It was bombed in — oh, many years ago. It was a church at one time, St Clement Danes, its name was.' He smiled apologetically, as though conscious of saying something slightly ridiculous, and added: ‘Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement's!'

‘What's that?' said Winston.

‘Oh —“Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement's.”

That was a rhyme we had when I was a little boy. How it goes on I don't remember, but I do know it ended up, “Here comes a candle to light you to bed, Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.” It was a kind of a dance. They held out their arms for you to pass under, and when they came to “Here comes a chopper to chop off your head” they brought their arms down and caught you. It was just names of churches. All the London churches were in it — all the principal ones, that is.'

Winston wondered vaguely to what century the church belonged. It was always difficult to determine the age of a London building. Anything large and impressive, if it was reasonably new in appearance, was automatically claimed as having been built since the Revolution, while anything that was obviously of earlier date was ascribed to some dim period called the Middle Ages.

Chapter 8 (3) Kapitel 8 (3)

Winston sat for a minute or two gazing at his empty glass, and hardly noticed when his feet carried him out into the street again. Winston siedział przez minutę lub dwie, wpatrując się w swoją pustą szklankę, i prawie nie zauważył, kiedy jego stopy znów wyniosły go na ulicę. Within twenty years at the most, he reflected, the huge and simple question, ‘Was life better before the Revolution than it is now?' Dentro de veinte años como máximo, reflexionó, la enorme y simple pregunta: "¿Era la vida mejor antes de la Revolución que ahora?" would have ceased once and for all to be answerable. habría dejado de ser responsable de una vez por todas. перестав би раз і назавжди нести відповідальність. But in effect it was unanswerable even now, since the few scattered survivors from the ancient world were incapable of comparing one age with another. They remembered a million useless things, a quarrel with a workmate, a hunt for a lost bicycle pump, the expression on a long-dead sister's face, the swirls of dust on a windy morning seventy years ago: but all the relevant facts were outside the range of their vision. They were like the ant, which can see small objects but not large ones. And when memory failed and written records were falsified — when that happened, the claim of the Party to have improved the conditions of human life had got to be accepted, because there did not exist, and never again could exist, any standard against which it could be tested.

At this moment his train of thought stopped abruptly. En este momento, su línea de pensamiento se detuvo abruptamente. He halted and looked up. He was in a narrow street, with a few dark little shops, interspersed among dwelling-houses. Estaba en una calle estrecha, con algunas pequeñas tiendas oscuras, intercaladas entre casas de vivienda. Immediately above his head there hung three discoloured metal balls which looked as if they had once been gilded. Одразу над його головою висіли три пофарбовані металеві кулі, наче колись позолочені. He seemed to know the place. Of course! He was standing outside the junk-shop where he had bought the diary.

A twinge of fear went through him. Una punzada de miedo lo atravesó. It had been a sufficiently rash act to buy the book in the beginning, and he had sworn never to come near the place again. Al principio había sido un acto lo suficientemente imprudente comprar el libro, y había jurado no volver a acercarse nunca más al lugar. And yet the instant that he allowed his thoughts to wander, his feet had brought him back here of their own accord. І все ж тієї миті, коли він дозволив своїм думкам блукати, ноги самі собою повернули його сюди. It was precisely against suicidal impulses of this kind that he had hoped to guard himself by opening the diary. Era precisamente contra los impulsos suicidas de este tipo que había esperado protegerse abriendo el diario. At the same time he noticed that although it was nearly twenty-one hours the shop was still open. У той же час він помітив, що хоча була майже двадцять одна година, магазин все ще був відкритий. With the feeling that he would be less conspicuous inside than hanging about on the pavement, he stepped through the doorway. If questioned, he could plausibly say that he was trying to buy razor blades.

The proprietor had just lighted a hanging oil lamp which gave off an unclean but friendly smell. He was a man of perhaps sixty, frail and bowed, with a long, benevolent nose, and mild eyes distorted by thick spectacles. His hair was almost white, but his eyebrows were bushy and still black. His spectacles, his gentle, fussy movements, and the fact that he was wearing an aged jacket of black velvet, gave him a vague air of intellectuality, as though he had been some kind of literary man, or perhaps a musician. His voice was soft, as though faded, and his accent less debased than that of the majority of proles. Su voz era suave, como si estuviera apagada, y su acento menos degradado que el de la mayoría de los proles. Його голос був м’яким, наче вицвілим, а акцент менш приниженим, ніж у більшості пролів.

‘I recognized you on the pavement,' he said immediately. ‘You're the gentleman that bought the young lady's keepsake album. Eres el caballero que compró el álbum de recuerdos de la joven. That was a beautiful bit of paper, that was. Cream-laid, it used to be called. Crema, solía llamarse. There's been no paper like that made for — oh, I dare say fifty years.' He peered at Winston over the top of his spectacles. ‘Is there anything special I can do for you? Or did you just want to look round?

‘I was passing,' said Winston vaguely. —Estaba de paso —dijo Winston vagamente. ‘I just looked in. I don't want anything in particular.'

‘It's just as well,' said the other, ‘because I don't suppose I could have satisfied you.' "Está bien", dijo el otro, "porque supongo que no podría haberte satisfecho". — Це так само добре, — сказав другий, — бо я не думаю, що міг би вас задовольнити. He made an apologetic gesture with his softpalmed hand. Hizo un gesto de disculpa con la palma de su mano suave. Він зробив вибачливий жест своєю м’якою долонею. ‘You see how it is; an empty shop, you might say. 'Ves cómo es; una tienda vacía, se podría decir. Between you and me, the antique trade's just about finished. Entre tú y yo, el comercio de antigüedades está casi terminado. No demand any longer, and no stock either. Ya no hay demanda y tampoco existencias. Furniture, china, glass it's all been broken up by degrees. Muebles, porcelana, vidrio, todo se ha roto gradualmente. Меблі, порцеляна, скло – все це поступово розбито. And of course the metal stuff's mostly been melted down. І, звісно, металеві речі здебільшого переплавили. I haven't seen a brass candlestick in years.'

The tiny interior of the shop was in fact uncomfortably full, but there was almost nothing in it of the slightest value. Крихітний інтер’єр крамниці насправді був незатишно переповнений, але в ньому не було майже нічого цінного. The floorspace was very restricted, because all round the walls were stacked innumerable dusty picture-frames. In the window there were trays of nuts and bolts, worn-out chisels, penknives with broken blades, tarnished watches that did not even pretend to be in going order, and other miscellaneous rubbish. En la ventana había bandejas de tuercas y tornillos, cinceles gastados, navajas con hojas rotas, relojes deslustrados que ni siquiera pretendían estar en orden, y otra basura variada. Only on a small table in the corner was there a litter of odds and ends — lacquered snuffboxes, agate brooches, and the like — which looked as though they might include something interesting. Sólo en una pequeña mesa en la esquina había un montón de cosas extrañas —cajas de rapé lacadas, broches de ágata y cosas por el estilo— que parecían incluir algo interesante. Лише на маленькому столику в кутку валялася купа різноманіття — лакованих табакерок, агатових брошок тощо, — у яких, здавалося, могло бути щось цікаве. As Winston wandered towards the table his eye was caught by a round, smooth thing that gleamed softly in the lamplight, and he picked it up. Mientras Winston se acercaba a la mesa, su mirada fue atraída por una cosa redonda y suave que brillaba suavemente a la luz de la lámpara, y la recogió. Коли Вінстон підійшов до столу, його погляд привернула кругла гладенька річ, яка м’яко блищала у світлі лампи, і він підняв її.

It was a heavy lump of glass, curved on one side, flat on the other, making almost a hemisphere. There was a peculiar softness, as of rainwater, in both the colour and the texture of the glass. Había una suavidad peculiar, como del agua de lluvia, tanto en el color como en la textura del vidrio. At the heart of it, magnified by the curved surface, there was a strange, pink, convoluted object that recalled a rose or a sea anemone. En el corazón de la misma, magnificada por la superficie curva, había un objeto extraño, rosado y enrevesado que recordaba una rosa o una anémona de mar.

‘What is it?' said Winston, fascinated.

‘That's coral, that is,' said the old man. ‘It must have come from the Indian Ocean. They used to kind of embed it in the glass. That wasn't made less than a hundred years ago. More, by the look of it.' Más, por lo que parece.

‘It's a beautiful thing,' said Winston.

‘It is a beautiful thing,' said the other appreciatively. "Es una cosa hermosa", dijo el otro apreciativamente. ‘But there's not many that'd say so nowadays.' Pero hoy en día no hay muchos que lo digan. He coughed. Tosió. ‘Now, if it so happened that you wanted to buy it, that'd cost you four dollars. 'Ahora, si sucediera que quisieras comprarlo, eso te costaría cuatro dólares. I can remember when a thing like that would have fetched eight pounds, and eight pounds was — well, I can't work it out, but it was a lot of money. Puedo recordar cuando una cosa así habría costado ocho libras y ocho libras eran ... bueno, no puedo resolverlo, pero era mucho dinero. But who cares about genuine antiques nowadays — even the few that's left?' Pero, ¿a quién le importan las antigüedades auténticas hoy en día, incluso las pocas que quedan?

Winston immediately paid over the four dollars and slid the coveted thing into his pocket. What appealed to him about it was not so much its beauty as the air it seemed to possess of belonging to an age quite different from the present one. Lo que le atraía de ella no era tanto su belleza como el aire que parecía poseer de pertenecer a una época muy diferente a la actual. Те, що приваблювало його в ньому, була не стільки його краса, скільки повітря, яке, здавалося, володіло приналежністю до епохи, зовсім іншої, ніж нинішня. The soft, rainwatery glass was not like any glass that he had ever seen. The thing was doubly attractive because of its apparent uselessness, though he could guess that it must once have been intended as a paperweight. It was very heavy in his pocket, but fortunately it did not make much of a bulge. It was a queer thing, even a compromising thing, for a Party member to have in his possession. Для члена партії це була дивина, навіть компрометація. Anything old, and for that matter anything beautiful, was always vaguely suspect. Все старе, а якщо вже на те пішло, все, що гарне, завжди викликало певну підозру. The old man had grown noticeably more cheerful after receiving the four dollars. El anciano se había vuelto notablemente más alegre después de recibir los cuatro dólares. Winston realized that he would have accepted three or even two. Вінстон зрозумів, що прийняв би трьох, а то й двох.

‘There's another room upstairs that you might care to take a look at,' he said. ‘There's not much in it. «У цьому небагато. Just a few pieces. We'll do with a light if we're going upstairs.' Lo haremos con una luz si vamos arriba.

He lit another lamp, and, with bowed back, led the way slowly up the steep and worn stairs and along a tiny passage, into a room which did not give on the street but looked out on a cobbled yard and a forest of chimney-pots. Winston noticed that the furniture was still arranged as though the room were meant to be lived in. Winston notó que los muebles todavía estaban dispuestos como si la habitación estuviera destinada a ser habitada. There was a strip of carpet on the floor, a picture or two on the walls, and a deep, slatternly arm-chair drawn up to the fireplace. An old-fashioned glass clock with a twelve-hour face was ticking away on the mantelpiece. Under the window, and occupying nearly a quarter of the room, was an enormous bed with the mattress still on it.

‘We lived here till my wife died,' said the old man half apologetically. "Vivimos aquí hasta que murió mi esposa", dijo el anciano a medias en tono de disculpa. ‘I'm selling the furniture off by little and little. Now that's a beautiful mahogany bed, or at least it would be if you could get the bugs out of it. But I dare say you'd find it a little bit cumbersome.'

He was holding the lamp high up, so as to illuminate the whole room, and in the warm dim light the place looked curiously inviting. Він тримав лампу високо, щоб освітлювати всю кімнату, і в теплому тьмяному світлі це місце виглядало на диво привабливо. The thought flitted through Winston's mind that it would probably be quite easy to rent the room for a few dollars a week, if he dared to take the risk. У Вінстоновій голові промайнула думка, що, ймовірно, було б досить легко орендувати кімнату за кілька доларів на тиждень, якби він наважився ризикнути. It was a wild, impossible notion, to be abandoned as soon as thought of; but the room had awakened in him a sort of nostalgia, a sort of ancestral memory. It seemed to him that he knew exactly what it felt like to sit in a room like this, in an arm-chair beside an open fire with your feet in the fender and a kettle on the hob; utterly alone, utterly secure, with nobody watching you, no voice pursuing you, no sound except the singing of the kettle and the friendly ticking of the clock. Йому здавалося, що він точно знає, що таке сидіти в такій кімнаті, у кріслі біля відкритого вогню з ногами в крило та чайником на плиті; абсолютно самотній, у цілковитій безпеці, ніхто не стежить за тобою, жодний голос не переслідує тебе, жодного звуку, крім співу чайника та дружнього цокання годинника.

‘There's no telescreen!' he could not help murmuring. no pudo evitar murmurar.

‘Ah,' said the old man, ‘I never had one of those things. Too expensive. And I never seemed to feel the need of it, somehow. Now that's a nice gateleg table in the corner there. А ось там у кутку гарний столик на ніжці. Though of course you'd have to put new hinges on it if you wanted to use the flaps.'

There was a small bookcase in the other corner, and Winston had already gravitated towards it. It contained nothing but rubbish. No contenía nada más que basura. The hunting-down and destruction of books had been done with the same thoroughness in the prole quarters as everywhere else. Вилов і знищення книг проводилися з такою ж ретельністю в прольських кварталах, як і всюди. It was very unlikely that there existed anywhere in Oceania a copy of a book printed earlier than 1q6o. The old man, still carrying the lamp, was standing in front of a picture in a rosewood frame which hung on the other side of the fireplace, opposite the bed.

‘Now, if you happen to be interested in old prints at all ——' he began delicately. —Bueno, si le interesan los grabados antiguos ... —comenzó con delicadeza.

Winston came across to examine the picture. It was a steel engraving of an oval building with rectangular windows, and a small tower in front. There was a railing running round the building, and at the rear end there was what appeared to be a statue. Навколо будівлі були поручні, а в задній частині було щось схоже на статую. Winston gazed at it for some moments. It seemed vaguely familiar, though he did not remember the statue.

‘The frame's fixed to the wall,' said the old man, ‘but I could unscrew it for you, I dare say.' —El marco está fijado a la pared —dijo el anciano—, pero podría desatornillarlo por ti, me atrevería a decir. «Рама прикріплена до стіни, — сказав старий, — але я міг би відкрутити її для вас».

‘I know that building,' said Winston finally. ‘It's a ruin now.

It's in the middle of the street outside the Palace of Justice.'

‘That's right. Outside the Law Courts. Fuera de los Tribunales de Justicia. It was bombed in — oh, many years ago. It was a church at one time, St Clement Danes, its name was.' En un tiempo fue una iglesia, St. Clement Danes, se llamaba. He smiled apologetically, as though conscious of saying something slightly ridiculous, and added: ‘Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement's!' Він вибачливо посміхнувся, ніби усвідомлюючи, що каже щось трохи смішне, і додав: «Апельсини й лимони, кажуть дзвони Святого Климента!»

‘What's that?' said Winston.

‘Oh —“Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement's.”

That was a rhyme we had when I was a little boy. How it goes on I don't remember, but I do know it ended up, “Here comes a candle to light you to bed, Here comes a chopper to chop off your head.” It was a kind of a dance. No recuerdo cómo va todo, pero sé que terminó diciendo: "Aquí viene una vela para iluminarte la cama, aquí viene un helicóptero para cortarte la cabeza". Fue una especie de baile. They held out their arms for you to pass under, and when they came to “Here comes a chopper to chop off your head” they brought their arms down and caught you. Te tendieron los brazos para que pasaras por debajo, y cuando llegaron a "Aquí viene un helicóptero para cortarte la cabeza" bajaron los brazos y te agarraron. It was just names of churches. All the London churches were in it — all the principal ones, that is.'

Winston wondered vaguely to what century the church belonged. It was always difficult to determine the age of a London building. Anything large and impressive, if it was reasonably new in appearance, was automatically claimed as having been built since the Revolution, while anything that was obviously of earlier date was ascribed to some dim period called the Middle Ages. Todo lo grande e impresionante, si era razonablemente nuevo en apariencia, automáticamente se decía que había sido construido desde la Revolución, mientras que todo lo que era obviamente de una fecha anterior se atribuía a un período oscuro llamado Edad Media.