Given that controlling the past—in other words, censoring history in all its forms—is a core priority of the Party's, literary references to the time before the Revolution are rather absent from the world of 1984. Thus, there are not many literary allusions in the novel. However, in the first chapter of the third book, an allusion appears by way of a comment on the act of censorship.
Employed in the Records Department of the Ministry of Truth, Winston and his colleagues censor announcements, records, news, literature, and all forms of media so that everything published in the past corresponds with the realities of the present. In the fourth chapter of the first book, Winston looks around at the cubicles near him, reflecting on the various jobs of his most proximate colleagues. One of them, Ampleforth, has the task of translating poetry into Newspeak:
And a few cubicles away a mild, ineffectual, dreamy creature named Ampleforth, with very hairy ears and a surprising talent for juggling with rhymes and meters, was engaged in producing garbled versions—definitive texts, they were called—of poems which had become ideologically offensive, but which for one reason or another were to be retained in the anthologies.
In the reader's world, Ampleforth would likely be a poet—or perhaps an English teacher or literature professor. In Orwell's dystopian world, however, the character uses his poetic talents to obfuscate poetry. The idea of a poet-like figure making poetry less poetic feels ironic, but also highlights the inherent resistance of poetry in a system where freedom of thought is forbidden and language is constantly being compressed. As another colleague of Winston's explains, Newspeak is aimed at cutting the language "down to the bone." Writing poetry goes against this ideal, as poets do not consider words in terms of efficiency but rather for their sound, emotion, and aesthetics.
Ampleforth returns in the first chapter of the third book, joining Winston in the prison cell. When Winston asks Ampleforth why he is there, Ampleforth doesn't seem completely sure, but he brings up a possible instance:
I have been able to recall one instance—a possible instance. It was an indiscretion, undoubtedly. We were producing a definitive edition of the poems of Kipling. I allowed the word ‘God’ to remain at the end of a line. I could not help it! [...] It was impossible to change the line. The rhyme was ‘rod.’ Do you realize that there are only twelve rhymes to ‘rod’ in the entire language?
Ampleforth does not specify the title of the poem he was rewriting, but he seems to be alluding to Kipling's "McAndrew's Hymn" from 1894. The poem's third line ends with "God," and the fourth ends with "rod"—a rhyme pairing that repeats later in the poem as well. Two other poems in which Kipling employed this rhyme are "Jubal and Tubal Cain" and "Lord Roberts." Religious themes are overt in all three poems, which would be a big problem under Ingsoc's strict atheism.
It is evident that Ampleforth's intention was not political subversion. Rather, he was guided by his passion for language, accuracy, and poetry when he left "God" in the poem. The allusion shows how the rigid political doctrine impedes the raw self-expression that is central to artistic creation. Under totalitarian systems, people like Ampleforth have to choose between respecting art and preserving their personal safety.
As Winston and Mr. Charrington examine a steel engraving of St. Clement's Dane together, the latter shares a line from a rhyme he knew as a little boy ("Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement’s"), which comes from an English nursery rhyme that lists out old London churches. This allusion becomes a motif in the work, as both the traditional nursery rhyme and London churches come to serve as traces of a past before the Revolution. When it appears that Mr. Charrington only remembers a few of the lines, Winston becomes determined to learn the rest. Seeking to build a bridge between the present and past, Winston sets out on a sort of scavenger hunt for the whole rhyme.
In the eighth chapter of the first book, when the nursery rhyme first comes up, Mr. Charrington only remembers the first and last lines:
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.
Winston is oblivious to the menacing undertone of the rhyme's final line, as he is too preoccupied with the rhyme as a trace of the past. Making him aware of the original function of buildings that have been repurposed by the Party, the conversation opens Winston's eyes to the historical heritage of the cityscape. Still, the violence of the words and dance foreshadow Mr. Charrington's duplicity. When Winston and Julia are imprisoned, he chants this line to proclaim their defeat.
Later, when he brings Julia to the room above Mr. Charrington's shop, Winston is amazed to realize that she knows a line from the rhyme: "When will you pay me? say the bells of Old Bailey—." She explains that her grandfather used to say it to her when she was a little girl, before he was vaporized. As Winston gradually pieces together the rhyme, Orwell shows that knowledge of the past requires a collective, intergenerational effort. A functional archive rests both on respect for the past and on an appreciation for shared memories. Winston longs to live in a world where sharing memories is possible.
Ironically, it is O'Brien who completes the rhyme for Winston, when Winston still believes that he is trustworthy: "When I grow rich, say the bells of Shoreditch." Given the violence of the final line, it seems appropriate that O'Brien should be the arbiter of the nursery rhyme and hold the key to its completion. His possession of the full rhyme both symbolizes his power over Winston and foreshadows his future violence.
For a reader in the 21st century, it is worth noting that the bells of St. Clements Danes still chime. Winston sees the rhyme and the church as a key to a long-lost world, which he longs to return to. Although some of Orwell's dystopian setting may seem reminiscent of the world we live in today, our world is nevertheless more like the world that Winston longs for than that of Big Brother. In this way, the nursery rhyme serves as a reminder of the vast heritage worth valuing and protecting in our world today.
Given that controlling the past—in other words, censoring history in all its forms—is a core priority of the Party's, literary references to the time before the Revolution are rather absent from the world of 1984. Thus, there are not many literary allusions in the novel. However, in the first chapter of the third book, an allusion appears by way of a comment on the act of censorship.
Employed in the Records Department of the Ministry of Truth, Winston and his colleagues censor announcements, records, news, literature, and all forms of media so that everything published in the past corresponds with the realities of the present. In the fourth chapter of the first book, Winston looks around at the cubicles near him, reflecting on the various jobs of his most proximate colleagues. One of them, Ampleforth, has the task of translating poetry into Newspeak:
And a few cubicles away a mild, ineffectual, dreamy creature named Ampleforth, with very hairy ears and a surprising talent for juggling with rhymes and meters, was engaged in producing garbled versions—definitive texts, they were called—of poems which had become ideologically offensive, but which for one reason or another were to be retained in the anthologies.
In the reader's world, Ampleforth would likely be a poet—or perhaps an English teacher or literature professor. In Orwell's dystopian world, however, the character uses his poetic talents to obfuscate poetry. The idea of a poet-like figure making poetry less poetic feels ironic, but also highlights the inherent resistance of poetry in a system where freedom of thought is forbidden and language is constantly being compressed. As another colleague of Winston's explains, Newspeak is aimed at cutting the language "down to the bone." Writing poetry goes against this ideal, as poets do not consider words in terms of efficiency but rather for their sound, emotion, and aesthetics.
Ampleforth returns in the first chapter of the third book, joining Winston in the prison cell. When Winston asks Ampleforth why he is there, Ampleforth doesn't seem completely sure, but he brings up a possible instance:
I have been able to recall one instance—a possible instance. It was an indiscretion, undoubtedly. We were producing a definitive edition of the poems of Kipling. I allowed the word ‘God’ to remain at the end of a line. I could not help it! [...] It was impossible to change the line. The rhyme was ‘rod.’ Do you realize that there are only twelve rhymes to ‘rod’ in the entire language?
Ampleforth does not specify the title of the poem he was rewriting, but he seems to be alluding to Kipling's "McAndrew's Hymn" from 1894. The poem's third line ends with "God," and the fourth ends with "rod"—a rhyme pairing that repeats later in the poem as well. Two other poems in which Kipling employed this rhyme are "Jubal and Tubal Cain" and "Lord Roberts." Religious themes are overt in all three poems, which would be a big problem under Ingsoc's strict atheism.
It is evident that Ampleforth's intention was not political subversion. Rather, he was guided by his passion for language, accuracy, and poetry when he left "God" in the poem. The allusion shows how the rigid political doctrine impedes the raw self-expression that is central to artistic creation. Under totalitarian systems, people like Ampleforth have to choose between respecting art and preserving their personal safety.