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(单词翻译:双击或拖选)
Winston was dreaming of his mother.
He must, he thought, have been ten or eleven years old when his mother had disappeared. She was a tall, statuesque, rather silent woman with slow movements and magnificent fair hair. His father he remembered more vaguely1 as dark and thin, dressed always in neat dark clothes (Winston remembered especially the very thin soles of his father’s shoes) and wearing spectacles. The two of them must evidently have been swallowed up in one of the first great purges2 of the fifties.
At this moment his mother was sitting in some place deep down beneath him, with his young sister in her arms. He did not remember his sister at all, except as a tiny, feeble baby, always silent, with large, watchful3 eyes. Both of them were looking up at him. They were down in some subterranean4 place — the bottom of a well, for instance, or a very deep grave — but it was a place which, already far below him, was itself moving downwards5. They were in the saloon of a sinking ship, looking up at him through the darkening water. There was still air in the saloon, they could still see him and he them, but all the while they were sinking down, down into the green waters which in another moment must hide them from sight for ever. He was out in the light and air while they were being sucked down to death, and they were down there because he was up here. He knew it and they knew it, and he could see the knowledge in their faces. There was no reproach either in their faces or in their hearts, only the knowledge that they must die in order that he might remain alive, and that this was part of the unavoidable order of things.
He could not remember what had happened, but he knew in his dream that in some way the lives of his mother and his sister had been sacrificed to his own. It was one of those dreams which, while retaining the characteristic dream scenery, are a continuation of one’s intellectual life, and in which one becomes aware of facts and ideas which still seem new and valuable after one is awake. The thing that now suddenly struck Winston was that his mother’s death, nearly thirty years ago, had been tragic6 and sorrowful in a way that was no longer possible. Tragedy, he perceived, belonged to the ancient time, to a time when there was still privacy, love, and friendship, and when the members of a family stood by one another without needing to know the reason. His mother’s memory tore at his heart because she had died loving him, when he was too young and selfish to love her in return, and because somehow, he did not remember how, she had sacrificed herself to a conception of loyalty7 that was private and unalterable. Such things, he saw, could not happen today. Today there were fear, hatred8, and pain, but no dignity of emotion, no deep or complex sorrows. All this he seemed to see in the large eyes of his mother and his sister, looking up at him through the green water, hundreds of fathoms9 down and still sinking.
Suddenly he was standing10 on short springy turf, on a summer evening when the slanting11 rays of the sun gilded12 the ground. The landscape that he was looking at recurred13 so often in his dreams that he was never fully14 certain whether or not he had seen it in the real world. In his waking thoughts he called it the Golden Country. It was an old, rabbit-bitten pasture, with a foot-track wandering across it and a molehill here and there. In the ragged15 hedge on the opposite side of the field the boughs16 of the elm trees were swaying very faintly in the breeze, their leaves just stirring in dense17 masses like women’s hair. Somewhere near at hand, though out of sight, there was a clear, slow-moving stream where dace were swimming in the pools under the willow18 trees.
The girl with dark hair was coming towards them across the field. With what seemed a single movement she tore off her clothes and flung them disdainfully aside. Her body was white and smooth, but it aroused no desire in him, indeed he barely looked at it. What overwhelmed him in that instant was admiration19 for the gesture with which she had thrown her clothes aside. With its grace and carelessness it seemed to annihilate20 a whole culture, a whole system of thought, as though Big Brother and the Party and the Thought Police could all be swept into nothingness by a single splendid movement of the arm. That too was a gesture belonging to the ancient time. Winston woke up with the word ‘Shakespeare’ on his lips.
The telescreen was giving forth21 an ear-splitting whistle which continued on the same note for thirty seconds. It was nought22 seven fifteen, getting-up time for office workers. Winston wrenched23 his body out of bed — naked, for a member of the Outer Party received only 3,000 clothing coupons24 annually25, and a suit of pyjamas26 was 600 — and seized a dingy27 singlet and a pair of shorts that were lying across a chair. The Physical Jerks would begin in three minutes. The next moment he was doubled up by a violent coughing fit which nearly always attacked him soon after waking up. It emptied his lungs so completely that he could only begin breathing again by lying on his back and taking a series of deep gasps28. His veins29 had swelled30 with the effort of the cough, and the varicose ulcer31 had started itching32.
‘Thirty to forty group!’ yapped a piercing female voice. ‘Thirty to forty group! Take your places, please. Thirties to forties!’
Winston sprang to attention in front of the telescreen, upon which the image of a youngish woman, scrawny but muscular, dressed in tunic33 and gym-shoes, had already appeared.
‘Arms bending and stretching!’ she rapped out. ‘Take your time by me. ONE, two, three, four! ONE, two, three, four! Come on, comrades, put a bit of life into it! ONE, two, three four! ONE two, three, four! . . . ’
The pain of the coughing fit had not quite driven out of Winston’s mind the impression made by his dream, and the rhythmic34 movements of the exercise restored it somewhat. As he mechanically shot his arms back and forth, wearing on his face the look of grim enjoyment35 which was considered proper during the Physical Jerks, he was struggling to think his way backward into the dim period of his early childhood. It was extraordinarily36 difficult. Beyond the late fifties everything faded. When there were no external records that you could refer to, even the outline of your own life lost its sharpness. You remembered huge events which had quite probably not happened, you remembered the detail of incidents without being able to recapture their atmosphere, and there were long blank periods to which you could assign nothing. Everything had been different then. Even the names of countries, and their shapes on the map, had been different. Airstrip One, for instance, had not been so called in those days: it had been called England or Britain, though London, he felt fairly certain, had always been called London.
Winston could not definitely remember a time when his country had not been at war, but it was evident that there had been a fairly long interval37 of peace during his childhood, because one of his early memories was of an air raid which appeared to take everyone by surprise. Perhaps it was the time when the atomic bomb had fallen on Colchester. He did not remember the raid itself, but he did remember his father’s hand clutching his own as they hurried down, down, down into some place deep in the earth, round and round a spiral staircase which rang under his feet and which finally so wearied his legs that he began whimpering and they had to stop and rest. His mother, in her slow, dreamy way, was following a long way behind them. She was carrying his baby sister — or perhaps it was only a bundle of blankets that she was carrying: he was not certain whether his sister had been born then. Finally they had emerged into a noisy, crowded place which he had realized to be a Tube station.
There were people sitting all over the stone-flagged floor, and other people, packed tightly together, were sitting on metal bunks39, one above the other. Winston and his mother and father found themselves a place on the floor, and near them an old man and an old woman were sitting side by side on a bunk38. The old man had on a decent dark suit and a black cloth cap pushed back from very white hair: his face was scarlet40 and his eyes were blue and full of tears. He reeked41 of gin. It seemed to breathe out of his skin in place of sweat, and one could have fancied that the tears welling from his eyes were pure gin. But though slightly drunk he was also suffering under some grief that was genuine and unbearable42. In his childish way Winston grasped that some terrible thing, something that was beyond forgiveness and could never be remedied, had just happened. It also seemed to him that he knew what it was. Someone whom the old man loved — a little granddaughter, perhaps — had been killed. Every few minutes the old man kept repeating:
‘We didn’t ought to ’ave trusted ’em. I said so, Ma, didn’t I? That’s what comes of trusting ’em. I said so all along. We didn’t ought to ’ave trusted the buggers.’
But which buggers they didn’t ought to have trusted Winston could not now remember.
Since about that time, war had been literally43 continuous, though strictly44 speaking it had not always been the same war. For several months during his childhood there had been confused street fighting in London itself, some of which he remembered vividly45. But to trace out the history of the whole period, to say who was fighting whom at any given moment, would have been utterly46 impossible, since no written record, and no spoken word, ever made mention of any other alignment47 than the existing one. At this moment, for example, in 1984 (if it was 1984), Oceania was at war with Eurasia and in alliance with Eastasia. In no public or private utterance48 was it ever admitted that the three powers had at any time been grouped along different lines. Actually, as Winston well knew, it was only four years since Oceania had been at war with Eastasia and in alliance with Eurasia. But that was merely a piece of furtive50 knowledge which he happened to possess because his memory was not satisfactorily under control. Officially the change of partners had never happened. Oceania was at war with Eurasia: therefore Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia. The enemy of the moment always represented absolute evil, and it followed that any past or future agreement with him was impossible.
The frightening thing, he reflected for the ten thousandth time as he forced his shoulders painfully backward (with hands on hips51, they were gyrating their bodies from the waist, an exercise that was supposed to be good for the back muscles)— the frightening thing was that it might all be true. If the Party could thrust its hand into the past and say of this or that event, IT NEVER HAPPENED— that, surely, was more terrifying than mere49 torture and death?
The Party said that Oceania had never been in alliance with Eurasia. He, Winston Smith, knew that Oceania had been in alliance with Eurasia as short a time as four years ago. But where did that knowledge exist? Only in his own consciousness, which in any case must soon be annihilated52. And if all others accepted the lie which the Party imposed — if all records told the same tale — then the lie passed into history and became truth. ‘Who controls the past,’ ran the Party slogan, ‘controls the future: who controls the present controls the past.’ And yet the past, though of its nature alterable, never had been altered. Whatever was true now was true from everlasting53 to everlasting. It was quite simple. All that was needed was an unending series of victories over your own memory. ‘Reality control’, they called it: in Newspeak, ‘doublethink’.
Winston sank his arms to his sides and slowly refilled his lungs with air. His mind slid away into the labyrinthine55 world of doublethink. To know and not to know, to be conscious of complete truthfulness56 while telling carefully constructed lies, to hold simultaneously57 two opinions which cancelled out, knowing them to be contradictory58 and believing in both of them, to use logic59 against logic, to repudiate60 morality while laying claim to it, to believe that democracy was impossible and that the Party was the guardian61 of democracy, to forget whatever it was necessary to forget, then to draw it back into memory again at the moment when it was needed, and then promptly62 to forget it again: and above all, to apply the same process to the process itself. That was the ultimate subtlety63: consciously to induce unconsciousness, and then, once again, to become unconscious of the act of hypnosis you had just performed. Even to understand the word ‘doublethink’ involved the use of doublethink.
The instructress had called them to attention again. ‘And now let’s see which of us can touch our toes!’ she said enthusiastically. ‘Right over from the hips, please, comrades. ONE-two! ONE-two! . . . ’
Winston loathed64 this exercise, which sent shooting pains all the way from his heels to his buttocks and often ended by bringing on another coughing fit. The half-pleasant quality went out of his meditations65. The past, he reflected, had not merely been altered, it had been actually destroyed. For how could you establish even the most obvious fact when there existed no record outside your own memory? He tried to remember in what year he had first heard mention of Big Brother. He thought it must have been at some time in the sixties, but it was impossible to be certain. In the Party histories, of course, Big Brother figured as the leader and guardian of the Revolution since its very earliest days. His exploits had been gradually pushed backwards66 in time until already they extended into the fabulous67 world of the forties and the thirties, when the capitalists in their strange cylindrical68 hats still rode through the streets of London in great gleaming motor-cars or horse carriages with glass sides. There was no knowing how much of this legend was true and how much invented. Winston could not even remember at what date the Party itself had come into existence. He did not believe he had ever heard the word Ingsoc before 1960, but it was possible that in its Oldspeak form —‘English Socialism’, that is to say — it had been current earlier. Everything melted into mist. Sometimes, indeed, you could put your finger on a definite lie. It was not true, for example, as was claimed in the Party history books, that the Party had invented aeroplanes. He remembered aeroplanes since his earliest childhood. But you could prove nothing. There was never any evidence. Just once in his whole life he had held in his hands unmistakable documentary proof of the falsification of an historical fact. And on that occasion ——
‘Smith!’ screamed the shrewish voice from the telescreen. ‘6079 Smith W.! Yes, YOU! Bend lower, please! You can do better than that. You’re not trying. Lower, please! THAT’S better, comrade. Now stand at ease, the whole squad69, and watch me.’
A sudden hot sweat had broken out all over Winston’s body. His face remained completely inscrutable. Never show dismay! Never show resentment70! A single flicker71 of the eyes could give you away. He stood watching while the instructress raised her arms above her head and — one could not say gracefully72, but with remarkable73 neatness and efficiency — bent74 over and tucked the first joint75 of her fingers under her toes.
‘THERE, comrades! THAT’S how I want to see you doing it. Watch me again. I’m thirty-nine and I’ve had four children. Now look.’ She bent over again. ‘You see MY knees aren’t bent. You can all do it if you want to,’ she added as she straightened herself up. ‘Anyone under forty-five is perfectly76 capable of touching77 his toes. We don’t all have the privilege of fighting in the front line, but at least we can all keep fit. Remember our boys on the Malabar front! And the sailors in the Floating Fortresses78! Just think what THEY have to put up with. Now try again. That’s better, comrade, that’s MUCH better,’ she added encouragingly as Winston, with a violent lunge, succeeded in touching his toes with knees unbent, for the first time in several years.
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收听单词发音
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1
vaguely
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| adv.含糊地，暖昧地 | |
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purges
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| 清除异己( purge的名词复数 )； 整肃（行动）； 清洗； 泻药 | |
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watchful
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| adj.注意的，警惕的 | |
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subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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downwards
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| adj./adv.向下的（地），下行的（地） | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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loyalty
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| n.忠诚，忠心 | |
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hatred
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| n.憎恶，憎恨，仇恨 | |
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fathoms
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| 英寻( fathom的名词复数 ) | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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slanting
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| 倾斜的，歪斜的 | |
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gilded
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| a.镀金的，富有的 | |
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recurred
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| 再发生，复发( recur的过去式和过去分词 )； 治愈 | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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boughs
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| 大树枝( bough的名词复数 ) | |
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dense
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| a.密集的，稠密的，浓密的；密度大的 | |
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18
willow
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| n.柳树 | |
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admiration
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| n.钦佩，赞美，羡慕 | |
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20
annihilate
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| v.使无效；毁灭；取消 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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nought
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| n.／adj.无，零 | |
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wrenched
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| v.（猛力地）扭( wrench的过去式和过去分词 )；扭伤；使感到痛苦；使悲痛 | |
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24
coupons
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| n.礼券( coupon的名词复数 )；优惠券；订货单；参赛表 | |
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annually
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| adv.一年一次，每年 | |
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pyjamas
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| n.（宽大的）睡衣裤 | |
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dingy
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| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
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28
gasps
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| v.喘气( gasp的第三人称单数 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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29
veins
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| n.纹理；矿脉( vein的名词复数 )；静脉；叶脉；纹理 | |
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30
swelled
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| 增强( swell的过去式和过去分词 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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ulcer
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| n.溃疡，腐坏物 | |
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32
itching
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| adj.贪得的，痒的，渴望的v.发痒( itch的现在分词 ) | |
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33
tunic
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| n.束腰外衣 | |
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34
rhythmic
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| adj.有节奏的，有韵律的 | |
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enjoyment
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| n.乐趣；享有；享用 | |
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36
extraordinarily
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| adv.格外地；极端地 | |
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interval
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| n.间隔，间距；幕间休息，中场休息 | |
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38
bunk
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| n.(车、船等倚壁而设的)铺位；废话 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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40
scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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41
reeked
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| v.发出浓烈的臭气( reek的过去式和过去分词 )；散发臭气；发出难闻的气味 (of sth)；明显带有（令人不快或生疑的跡象） | |
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42
unbearable
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| adj.不能容忍的；忍受不住的 | |
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43
literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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44
strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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45
vividly
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| adv.清楚地，鲜明地，生动地 | |
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46
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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47
alignment
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| n.队列；结盟，联合 | |
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48
utterance
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| n.用言语表达，话语，言语 | |
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49
mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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50
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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51
hips
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| abbr.high impact polystyrene 高冲击强度聚苯乙烯，耐冲性聚苯乙烯n.臀部( hip的名词复数 )；[建筑学]屋脊；臀围（尺寸）；臀部…的 | |
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52
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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53
everlasting
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| adj.永恒的，持久的，无止境的 | |
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54
genially
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| adv.亲切地，和蔼地；快活地 | |
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55
labyrinthine
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| adj.如迷宫的；复杂的 | |
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56
truthfulness
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| n. 符合实际 | |
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57
simultaneously
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| adv.同时发生地，同时进行地 | |
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58
contradictory
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| adj.反驳的，反对的，抗辩的；n.正反对，矛盾对立 | |
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59
logic
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| n.逻辑(学)；逻辑性 | |
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60
repudiate
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| v.拒绝，拒付，拒绝履行 | |
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61
guardian
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| n.监护人；守卫者，保护者 | |
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promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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subtlety
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| n.微妙，敏锐，精巧；微妙之处，细微的区别 | |
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64
loathed
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| v.憎恨，厌恶( loathe的过去式和过去分词 )；极不喜欢 | |
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65
meditations
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| 默想( meditation的名词复数 )； 默念； 沉思； 冥想 | |
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66
backwards
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| adv.往回地，向原处，倒，相反，前后倒置地 | |
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67
fabulous
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| adj.极好的；极为巨大的；寓言中的，传说中的 | |
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cylindrical
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| adj.圆筒形的 | |
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69
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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70
resentment
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| n.怨愤，忿恨 | |
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71
flicker
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| vi./n.闪烁，摇曳，闪现 | |
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72
gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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73
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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74
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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75
joint
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| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
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76
perfectly
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| adv.完美地，无可非议地，彻底地 | |
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77
touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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78
fortresses
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| 堡垒，要塞( fortress的名词复数 ) | |
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