A Clean, Well-Lighted Place

Билет 13. A clean. well-lighted place (Hemingway)

 

BY ERNEST HEMINGWAY

 

It was very late and everyone had left the cafe except an old man who sat in the shadow the leaves of the tree made against the electric light. In the day time the street was dusty, but at night the dew settled the dust and the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he felt the difference. The two waiters inside the cafe knew that the old man was a little drunk, and while he was a good client they knew that if he became too drunk he would leave without paying, so they kept watch on him.

"Last week he tried to commit suicide," one waiter said.

"Why?"

"He was in despair."

"What about?"

"Nothing."

"How do you know it was nothing?"

"He has plenty of money."

They sat together at a table that was close against the wall near the door of the cafe and looked at the terrace where the tableswere all empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind. A girl and a soldier went by in the street. The street light shone on the brass number on his collar. The girl wore no head covering and hurried beside him.

"The guard will pick him up," one waiter said.

"What does it matter if he gets what he's after?"

"He had better get off the street now. The guard will get him. They went by five minutes ago."

The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.

"What do you want?"

The old man looked at him. "Another brandy," he said.

"You'll be drunk," the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

"He'll stay all night," he said to his colleague. "I'm sleepy now.I never get into bed before three o'clock. He should have killed himself last week."

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from thecounter inside the cafe and marched out to the old man's table. Heput down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

"You should have killed yourself last week," he said to the deafman. The old man motioned with his finger. "A little more," hesaid. The waiter poured on into the glass so that the brandy slopped over and ran down the stem into the top saucer of the pile."Thank you," the old man said. The waiter took the bottle back inside the cafe. He sat down at the table with his colleague again.

"He's drunk now," he said.

"He's drunk every night."

"What did he want to kill himself for?"

"How should I know."

"How did he do it?"

"He hung himself with a rope."

"Who cut him down?"

"His niece."

"Why did they do it?"

"Fear for his soul."

"How much money has he got?" "He's got plenty."

"He must be eighty years old."

"Anyway I should say he was eighty."

"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock.What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"

"He stays up because he likes it."

"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

"He had a wife once too."

"A wife would be no good to him now."

"You can't tell. He might be better with a wife."

"His niece looks after him. You said she cut him down."

"I know." "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."

"Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling.Even now, drunk. Look at him."

"I don't want to look at him. I wish he would go home. He has no regard for those who must work."

The old man looked from his glass across the square, then over at the waiters.

"Another brandy," he said, pointing to his glass. The waiter who was in a hurry came over.

"Finished," he said, speaking with that omission of syntax stupid people employ when talking to drunken people or foreigners. "Nomore tonight. Close now."

"Another," said the old man.

"No. Finished." The waiter wiped the edge of the table with a towel and shook his head.

The old man stood up, slowly counted the saucers, took a leathercoin purse from his pocket and paid for the drinks, leaving half a peseta tip. The waiter watched him go down the street, a very oldman walking unsteadily but with dignity.

"Why didn't you let him stay and drink?" the unhurried waiter asked. They were putting up the shutters. "It is not half-past two."

"I want to go home to bed."

"What is an hour?"

"More to me than to him."

"An hour is the same."

"You talk like an old man yourself. He can buy a bottle and drinkat home."

"It's not the same."

"No, it is not," agreed the waiter with a wife. He did not wish to be unjust. He was only in a hurry.

"And you? You have no fear of going home before your usual hour?"

"Are you trying to insult me?"

"No, hombre, only to make a joke."

"No," the waiter who was in a hurry said, rising from pulling down the metal shutters. "I have confidence. I am all confidence."

"You have youth, confidence, and a job," the older waiter said."You have everything."

"And what do you lack?"

"Everything but work."

"You have everything I have."

"No. I have never had confidence and I am not young."

"Come on. Stop talking nonsense and lock up."

"I am of those who like to stay late at the cafe," the older waitersaid.

"With all those who do not want to go to bed. With all those who need a light for the night."

"I want to go home and into bed."

"We are of two different kinds," the older waiter said. He was now dressed to go home. "It is not only a question of youth and confidence although those things are very beautiful. Each night I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe."

"Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long."

"You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also, now, there are shadows of the leaves."

"Good night," said the younger waiter.

"Good night," the other said. Turning off the electric light he continued the conversation with himself, It was the light of course but it is necessary that the place be clean and pleasant. You do not want music. Certainly you do not want music. Nor can you stand before a bar with dignity although that is all that isprovided for these hours. What did he fear? It was not a fear ordread, It was a nothing that he knew too well. It was all anothing and a man was a nothing too. It was only that and light was all it needed and a certain cleanness and order. Some lived init and never felt it but he knew it all was nada y pues nada y naday pues nada. Our nada who art in nada, nada be thy name thy kingdom nada thy will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give usthis nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee. He smiled and stood before a bar with a shining steam pressure coffee machine.

"What's yours?" asked the barman.

"Nada."

"Otro loco mas," said the barman and turned away.

"A little cup," said the waiter.

The barman poured it for him.

"The light is very bright and pleasant but the bar is unpolished,"the waiter said.

The barman looked at him but did not answer. It was too late at night for conversation.

"You want another copita?" the barman asked.

"No, thank you," said the waiter and went out. He disliked bars and bodegas. A clean, well-lighted cafe was a very different thing. Now, without thinking further, he would go home to his room. Hewould lie in the bed and finally, with daylight, he would go to sleep. After all, he said to himself, it's probably only insomnia. Many must have it.

 

 

Был поздний час, и никого не осталось в кафе, кроме одного старика - онсидел в тени дерева, которую отбрасывала листва, освещенная электрическимсветом. В дневное время на улице было пыльно, но к ночи роса прибивала пыль,и старику нравилось сидеть допоздна, потому что он был глух, а по ночам былотихо, и он это ясно чувствовал. Оба официанта в кафе знали, что старикподвыпил, и хоть он и хороший гость, но если он слишком много выпьет, тоуйдет, не заплатив; потому они и следили за ним. - На прошлой недели он пытался покончить с собой, - сказал один. - Почему? - Впал в отчаяние. - От чего? - Ни от чего. - А откуда ты знаешь, что ни от чего? - У него же уйма денег. Оба официанта сидели за столиком у стены возле самой двери и смотрелина террасу, где все столики были пусты, кроме одного, за которым сиделстарик в тени дерева, листья которого слегка покачивались на ветру. Солдат идевушка прошли по улице. Свет уличного фонаря блеснул на медных цифрах унего на воротнике. Девушка шла с непокрытой головой и спешила, чтобы неотстать. - Патруль заберет его, - сказал официант. - Какая ему разница, он своего добился. - Ему бы сейчас лучше с этой улицы уйти. Прямо на патруль наскочит. Ипяти минут нет, как прошли. Старик, что сидел в тени, постучал рюмкой о блюдце. Официант помоложевышел к нему. - Вам чего? Старик посмотрел на него. - Еще бренди, - сказал он. - Вы будете пьяны, - сказал официант. Старик смотрел на него. Официантушел. - Всю ночь просидит, - сказал он другому. - Я совсем не сплю. Раньшетрех никогда не ляжешь. Лучше бы помер на прошлой неделе. Официант взял со стойки бутылку бренди и чистый стакан и направился кстолику, где сидел старик. Н поставил стакан и налил его до краев. - Ну, что бы вам помереть на прошлой неделе, - сказал он глухому.Старик пошевелил пальцем. - Добавьте еще, - сказал он. Официант долил в рюмку еще столько, что бренди потек через край, постакану, прямо в самый верхний из тех, что скопились перед стариком. - Благодарю, - сказал старик. Официант унес бутылку обратно в кафе и снова сел за столик у двери. - Он уже пьян, - сказал он. - Он каждую ночь пьян. - Зачем ему было на себя руки накладывать? - Откуда я знаю. - А как он это сделал? - Повесился на веревке. - Кто ж его из петли вынул? - Племянница. - И зачем же это она? - За его душу испугалась. - А сколько у него денег? - Уйма. - Ему, должно быть, лет восемьдесят. - Я бы меньше не дал. - Шел бы он домой. Раньше трех никогда не ляжешь. Разве это дело? - Нравится ему, вот и сидит. - Скучно ему одному. А я не один - меня жена в постели ждет. - И у него когда-то жена была. - Теперь ему жена и к чему. - Ну, не скажи. С женой ему, может быть, лучше было бы. - За ним племянница ходит. - Знаю. Ты ведь сказал - это она его из петли. - Не хотел бы я дожить до его лет. Противные эти старики. - Не всегда. Он старик аккуратный. Пьет, ни капли не прольет. Дажесейчас, когда пьяный. Посмотри. - Не хочу и смотреть на него. Скорей бы домой шел. Никакого ему деланет до тех, кому работать приходится. Старик перевел взгляд с рюмки на другую сторону площадки, потом - наофициантов. - Еще бренди, - сказал он, показывая на рюмку. Тот официант, которыйспешил домой, вышел к нему. - Конец, - сказал он так, как говорят люди неумные с пьяными илииностранцами. - На сегодня ни одной больше. Закрываемся. - Еще одну, - сказал старик. - Нет, кончено. Официант вытер край столика полотенцем и покачал головой. Старик встал, не спеша сосчитал стаканы. Вынул из кармана кожаныйкошелек и заплатил за коньяк, оставив полпесеты на чай. Официант смотрел ему вслед. Старик был очень сгорблен, шел неуверенно.Но с достоинством. - Почему ты не дал ему еще посидеть или выпить? - спросил официант,тот, что не спешил домой. Они стали закрывать ставни. - Ведь еще и половинытретьего нет. - Я хочу домой, спать. - Ну, что значит один час. - Для меня - больше, чем для него. - Час для всех - час. - Ты и сам, как старик, рассуждаешь. Может, купишь себе бутылку ивыпьешь дома. - Это совсем другое дела. - Да, это верно, - согласился женатый. Он не хотел быть несправедливый.Просто он очень спешил. - А ты? Не боишься прийти домой раньше обычного? - Ты что, оскорбить меня хочешь? - Нет, друг, просто шучу. - Нет, - сказал тот, который спешил. Он запер внизу ставню ивыпрямился. - Доверие. Полное доверие. - У тебя и молодость, и доверие, и работа есть, - сказал официантпостарше. - Что еще человеку надо. - А тебе чего не хватает? - А у меня всего только работа. - У тебя все то же, что и у меня. - Нет. Доверия у меня никогда не было, а молодость прошла. - Ну, чего стоишь? Перестань говорить глупости, давай запирать. - А я вот люблю засиживаться в кафе, - сказал официант постарше. - Я изтех, кто не спешит в постель. Из тех, кому ночью нужен свет. - Я хочу домой, спать. - Разные мы люди, - сказал официант постарше. Он уже оделся, чтобыуходить. - дело вовсе не в молодости и доверии, хоть и то и другое чудесно.Каждую ночь мне не хочется закрывать кафе потому, что кому-нибудь оно оченьнужно. - Ну что ты, ведь кабаки всю ночь открыты. - Не понимаешь ты ничего. Здесь, в кафе. Чисто и опрятно. Свет яркий.Свет - это большое дело, а тут вот еще и тень от дерева. - Спокойной ночи, - сказал официант помоложе. - Спокойной ночи, сказал другой. Выключая электрический свет, он продолжал разговор с самим собой.Главное, конечно, свет, но нужно, чтобы и чисто было и опрятно. Музыка ни кчему. Конечно, музыка ни к чему. У стойки бара с достоинством не постоишь, ав такое время больше пойти некуда. А чего ему бояться? Да не в страхе дело,не в боязни! Ничто - и оно ему так знакомо. Все - ничто, да и сам человекничто. Вот в чем дело, и ничего, кроме света не надо, да еще чистоты ипорядка. Некоторые живут и никогда этого не чувствуют, а он-то знает, чтовсе это ничто и снова ничто, ничто и снова ничто. Отче ничто, да святитсяничто твое, да приидет ничто твое, да будет ничто твое, яко в ничто и вничто. Ничто и снова ничто. Он усмехнулся и остановился возле бара с блестящим титаном для кофе. - Что вам? - спросил бармен. - Ничто. - Еще один ненормальный, - сказал бармен и отвернулся. - Маленькую чашечку, - сказал официант. Бармен налил ему кофе. - Свет яркий, приятный, а вот стойка не начищена, - сказал официант. - Бармен посмотрел на него, но ничего не ответил. Был слишком позднийчас для разговоров. - Еще одну? - спросил он. - Нет, благодарю вас, - сказал официант и вышел. Он не любил баров и погребков. Чистое, ярко освященное кафе - совсемдругое дело. Теперь, ни о чем больше не думая, он пойдет домой, в своюкомнату. Ляжет в постель и на рассвете наконец уснет. В конце концов, сказалон сам себе, может быть, это просто бессонница. Со многими бывает.

 

The main focus of "A Clean, Well-Lighted Place" is on the pain of old age suffered by a man that we meet in a cafe late one night. Hemingway contrasts light and dark to show the difference between this man and the young people around him, and uses his deafness as an image if his separation from the rest of the world. Near the end of the story, the author shows us the desperate emptiness of a life near finished without the fruit of its labor, and the aggravation of the old man's restless mind that cannot find peace. Throughout this story stark images of desperation show the old man's life at a point when he has realized the futility of life and finds himself the lonely object of scorn.

The most obvious image used by Hemingway in this story is that of the contrast between light and dark. The cafe is a "Clean, Well-Lighted Place". It is a refuge from the darkness of the night outside. Darkness is a symbol of fear and loneliness. The light symbolizes comfort and the company of others. There is hopelessness in the dark, while the light calms the nerves. Unfortunately for the old man, this light is an artificial one, and its peace is both temporary and incomplete.

"... the tables were empty except where the old man sat in the shadow of the leaves of the tree that moved slightly in the wind."

Maybe the old man hides in the shadows of the leaves because he recognizes the shortcoming of his refuge. Perhaps he is drawn to the shadows so that the darkness of his own age will not be so visible as it would be in the full force of the electric light. His body is dark with the effects of illness. Even his ears bring him a sort of darkness as they hold out the sounds of the world.

The old man's deafness is also a powerful image used in the story. "...the old man liked to sit late because he was deaf and now at night it was quiet and he could feel the difference." Deafness shuts the old man out from the rest of the world. In the day, everything must be a reminder to him of his disconnection from the world. The busy streets, the marketplace, the chatter in the cafes along the street, the animals, and the motor vehicles fill the town with noise all day long. The old man knows this and recognizes that he is completely cut off from the sounds that he probably had not thought much of as a young man. In this cafe so late at night he is not missing much. In fact, he might prefer to miss the conversation about him between the two waiters. The younger waiter is disgusted by the old man. He says, "I wouldn't want to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing." The same thing may have been said by the old man when he was young. One might even conjecture that the old man chooses to be deaf rather than to face the nastiness of caducity and hear the words of disdain spoken by his juniors.

Another tool used by Hemingway in this story is the image of Nothing. Nothing is what the old man wants to escape. The older waiter, who sometimes acts as the voice of the old man's soul, describes his adversary:

"It was all nothing, and a man was nothing, too...Some lived in it and never felt it but he knew it was nada y pues nada y pues nada. Our nada who art in nada nada be thy name thy kingdom nada they will be nada in nada as it is in nada. Give us this nada our daily nada and nada us our nada as we nada our nadas and nada us not into nada but deliver us from nada; pues nada. Hail nothing full of nothing, nothing is with thee..."

The Nothing is a relentless monotony, unbroken by joy or sorrow. It is unending emptiness without comfort or companionship of man or God. It is the senselessness of each heart-beat that is just like the last and refuses to give in to death. The old man's loneliness is empty. His days of retirement without useful work or purpose are empty. The emptiness of a life without progress of meaning is Nothing, and this Nothing afflicts the old man with a powerful grip. The only escape from this Nothing is blissful unconsciousness, permanent only in death.

The old man's death-wish is further played out through the metaphor of insomnia, an ailment which he apparently shares with the older waiter insomnia keeps the two awake through the hours of darkness, just as a tenacious life keeps the old man breathing when he would rather rest in his grave. In the second paragraph of the story, the older waiter informs the younger that their elderly customer had tried to commit suicide the week before. The old man is racked with despair - at his loneliness, the darkness of his life, his segregation from the world, and the Nothingness that permeates his existence. He wants rest, but it is withheld from him. Even when he tries to take his own life, his niece cuts him down from his noose. Peace is far from this man, and what little relief he may find is incomplete like the artificial light of the cafe. He tries to drown himself in whiskey, but that also fails to bring him rest. There is only left the hope that, as drunk as he is, he may pass out when he arrives home.

This story is filled with images of despair. The contrasts between light and dark, youth and age are harsh and well defined. The reader leaves the story with a feeling that there is no escape from the doldrums of the winter years of life. Perhaps it is Hemingway's own terror of old age and infirmity that he is trying to communicate to the reader.

A Clean, Well-Lighted Place is a story about a lonely, but dignified older gentleman who, basically,has insomnia and can't sleep. He is not like other men who go to bodegas and bars. He does not go to party or to meet women. He goes to escape the darkness and to have a drink. It is also mentioned in the story that he tried to kill himself, but was saved by his niece.

There are three main characters in this story, the two waiters and the deaf old men. Also mentioned are the old man's niece and the barman at the end of the story, but these are not fully developed characters. The waiters have two different views towards the old man. The younger waiter assumes that since the old man is financially stable then he has nothing to despair. He views him as a vagrant type because he only can see him as a drunk who holds him up, and on occasion who gets so drunk he leaves without paying his bill.

"Last week he tried to commit suicide." one waiter said.
"Why?"
"He was in despair."
"What about?"
"Nothing."
"How do you know it was nothing?"
"He has plenty of money."

The younger waiter has resentment towards the older man because he has a lot waiting for him at home, and he is eager to get home. He says,

"I wish he would go home. I never get to bed before three o'clock. What kind of hour is that to go to bed?"

"He stays up because he likes it."

"He's lonely. I'm not lonely. I have a wife waiting in bed for me."

The younger waiter gets more and more impatient, he says, "I wouldn't want

to be that old. An old man is a nasty thing."

But the older waiter defends him because he understands, being older himself, and similar in nature to the old man, he says, "Not always. This old man is clean. He drinks without spilling. Even now, drunk. Look at him." Shortly after this the younger waiter kicks the old man out.

The dialog between the two waiters establishes a difference between the two that is very distinct. The younger waiter is eager to get home, he has a wife that he loves, a warm bed to go to, and he has time on his side. He has the ignorance that only a younger man who has not yet experienced the world has about him. He cannot see past the liquor that the old deaf man drinks to see that he is good and different from the other patrons that come to visit their cafe. And he cannot distinguish between the clean, well lit cafe and the dark bodegas that stay open all night with vagrants.

GA_googleFillSlotWithSize(HELAD_publishercode, "ArticleATFMiddleArticle300x250", 300, 250); The older waiter is very similar to the old man. He understands the loneliness that the old man feels. He says "We are two different kinds." "It is not only a question of youth and confidence, although those things are very beautiful. Each night, I am reluctant to close up because there may be some one who needs the cafe." The younger man still not quite understanding replies, "Hombre, there are bodegas open all night long." "You do not understand. This is a clean and pleasant cafe. It is well lighted. The light is very good and also now there are shadows of the leaves." The older waiter sees the cafe for what it is. They say goodnight at this point.

The older waiter and the old man both have a fear of nothingness, going home to nothing. The nothingness that the dark night brings. It was a fear of being nothing, it was something that went away when it could be seen in a clean and well lighted place or in the light of day. In the end, the older waiter is forced to go out into the night also. He goes to a bodega, so that he does not have to go right home. Before he goes, he does some self-examinations. He asks himself what it is that he fears, and his answer was "nada y pues nada y pues nada" which essentially means, "Nothing, and then nothing, and then nothing."

To all of those whose waking hours are spent in the still of the night, this story speaks to you. For everyone who has ever been alone in the still of the night, when it was dark, and all you ever wanted was a clean, well-lighted place to go to, this story is about you. Old or young, rich or poor, there are people out there every where that fear "nada".

A Clean Well Lighted Place by Ernest Hemingway
The short story “A Clean Well Lighted Place” by Ernest Hemingway focuses on
the existential crisis, the search for meaning that faces human beings. To truly get a
deeper understanding of this story, one must have some knowledge about the authors
life. Hemingway was married four times and won the Nobel Prize for literature. When he
became ill, he ended his life the same way as did his father, he committed suicide.
Hemingway was dealing with despair, depression and desperation for much of his life.
He struggled throughout, to find true meaning and purpose. Hemingway’s theory
proposes that life is naturally meaningless. This doesn’t mean that life has to be
meaningless, rather that one must find what the purpose of life is. One has to set
standards for oneself and conform to them with dignity, thus not falling into despair.
This theory can be found in this short story and throughout Hemingway’s`
The short story “A Clean Well Lighted Place” is almost entirely based on a
conversation between two waiters, who work in a Spanish café.