0 1984
weep half a dozen times in a single session. Most of the time
they screamed abuse at him and threatened at every hesita-
tion to deliver him over to the guards again; but sometimes
they would suddenly change their tune, call him comrade,
appeal to him in the name of Ingsoc and Big Brother, and
ask him sorrowfully whether even now he had not enough
loyalty to the Party left to make him wish to undo the evil
he had done. When his nerves were in rags after hours of
questioning, even this appeal could reduce him to snivel-
ling tears. In the end the nagging voices broke him down
more completely than the boots and fists of the guards. He
became simply a mouth that uttered, a hand that signed,
whatever was demanded of him. His sole concern was to
find out what they wanted him to confess, and then confess
it quickly, before the bullying started anew. He confessed
to the assassination of eminent Party members, the dis-
tribution of seditious pamphlets, embezzlement of public
funds, sale of military secrets, sabotage of every kind. He
confessed that he had been a spy in the pay of the Easta-
sian government as far back as 1968. He confessed that he
was a religious believer, an admirer of capitalism, and a sex-
ual pervert. He confessed that he had murdered his wife,
although he knew, and his questioners must have known,
that his wife was still alive. He confessed that for years he
had been in personal touch with Goldstein and had been
a member of an underground organization which had in-
cluded almost every human being he had ever known. It
was easier to confess everything and implicate everybody.
Besides, in a sense it was all true. It was true that he had