Кажется, наши приехали... Так и есть! Пелагея Егоровна, Любовь Гордеевна, да и гости с ними. Егорушка (прячет сказку в карман)...
146-147 - пер. 2 стих. 18a. "The Slavonic and East European Review", Vol. X, Ќ 29, 1931, p. 271 - пер. 2 стих. (M. F. Yerrold). 19...
Вечером Тол пенни ков готовился к защите и думал, что он никогда не станет защитником. С внешней стороны дело было ясно и просто и всей своей ясностью и простотой гово..
Summary This historical novel is set in 16th century Venice, where the great anatomist and physician Mateo Colombo has just been charged with heresy and placed under house arrest. The book proceeds in a series of short frames or fragments, presenting Colombo's story from a wide variety of perspectives, ranging from the perspective of Mona Sofia, the most prestigious whore in Venice, to that of Leonardino, the crow who waits each morning to scavenge an eyeball or piece of flesh from one of the anatomist's cadavers.
What is Colombo's heresy? True, he has consistently violated the Papal Bull of Pope Boniface VIII that forbid obtaining cadavers for dissection, but his scholarly eminence and friendship with Pope Paul III have protected him from recrimination. His heresy is far worse than simply ignoring a Papal Bull; in fact, Mateo Colombo has discovered a dangerous new anatomical structure, the clitoris!
Mateo was called to the bedside of an unconscious holy woman named Ines de Torremolinos. In the process of examining her, the physician was amazed to discover "between his patient's legs a perfectly formed, erect and diminutive penis." (p. 105) He took hold of the strange organ and began massaging it. As he did so, there was an amazing response in his patient: "(Her) breathing became hoarser and then broke into a loud panting . . . Her lifeless features changed into a lascivious grimace . . . " (p. 107) Subsequent research undertaken with Mona Sofia, the resplendent whore, as well as with cadavers, confirmed the significance of Colombo's discovery.
At his hearing before the High Tribunal, Colombo explains his findings, which are far too complex and subtle to summarize (pp. 138-165). The finding of greatest interest, however, is that "there is no reason to believe that there exists in women such a thing as a soul." (p. 151) In fact, Colombo contends he has proven that the "amor veneris" or clitoris performs in women "similar functions to those of the soul in men, " although its nature "is utterly different since it depends entirely on the body." (p. 153)
You'll have to read the book to discover what the verdict of the High Tribunal of the Holy Office was and Mateo Colombo's fate.
Commentary This novel was highly controversial when it first appeared in Argentina, and its denunciation by the sponsor of a major literary prize in that country sparked a literary scandal. The novel's basic conceit is the analogy (or comparison or synergism or contrast . . . choose your own noun) between Christopher Columbus's "discovery" of the geographical New World in 1492, and Mateo Columbo's discovery of the anatomical New World, the clitoris, a generation later.
Like his explorer namesake, the Renaissance anatomist ventured forth into new territory, setting aside prejudice and popular opinion, as well as (in Mateo's case at least) the weight of church authority. However, although the anatomist struck a blow for objectivity in observation, his interpretation of the findings was compromised by cultural bias; in this case, by good old-fashioned misogyny. The human soul is the seat of reason; since women are controlled by passion rather than reason, perhaps they lack souls.
When Colombo came to the conclusion he had discovered the organ that produces passion ("amor veneris"), he assumed that, since the clitoris generates female behavior, it must be analogous to the soul, which generates male behavior. Needless to say, this theory will guarantee some heated discussion. If you thought Descartes' concept of the pineal gland as the seat of the soul was bizarre, try this one.
Annotated by Coulehan, Jack
Тем временем:
... When they come back their talk is rather more animated. One of their topics is always brass-banding, for they are both instrumentalists; but they also discuss current affairs, the state of the country and the often uncertain business of earning a living. My father's friend is a carpenter, my father himself, a coalminer.
When it's time for their return the kettle will be put on, and a cake and perhaps the remains of a stand pie brought out again; what is left from high tea. At this time in my life, high tea is my favourite meal. My mother despairs of making me eat a 'proper dinner'. Roast beef and pork are of interest to me only as providers of dripping for spreading on bread - mucky fat. While I love being taken into tea-shops on trips to Leeds and Bradford, the only hot food I relish is fried fish and chips, and even when I come to enjoy many dishes from many cuisines - from England, France and Italy, from Greece, Turkey, India and China - there will still be a special salivatory anticipation in a parcel of fish and chips fried by someone who knows to a nicety the temperature of his fat and who can mix batter that will coat a portion of flaky haddock with a crisp, airy lightness.
I can locate the warm heart of my childhood in the big family parties that my grandparents held at Christmas. How many there were I can't now say, and perhaps one very successful one, with a score or more relatives crammed into the small cottage, has left its happiness like a stain on my memory ever since. My mother's family were no strangers to rancour and bitterness: they bore lingering grudges against their own, and I recall that one of my aunts refused to speak to my mother for years. But none of that marred my pleasure in those get-togethers when, in the roasting heat of two huge fires, the square table in one room would be laden with all the good things of high tea, and games in the other would reduce the womenfolk and the children to helpless laughter. In that room also I would see my first dead body when my grandfather lay in his open coffin.
My mother's thrift was a powerful factor in keeping us afloat, and other people's deprivation could sometimes surprise even her...
