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. The centuries of capitalism were held to have produced nothing of any value. One could not learn history from architecture any more than one could learn it from books. Statues, inscriptions, memorial stones, the names of streets -- anything that might throw light upon the past had been systematically altered. 'I never knew it had been a church,' he said. 'There's a lot of them left, really,' said the old man, 'though they've been put to other uses. Now, how did that rhyme go? Ah! I've got it! "Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St Clement's, You owe me three farthings, say the bells of St Martin's -- "there, now, that's as far as I can get. A farthing, thatwas a small copper coin, looked something like a cent.' 'Where was St Martin's?' said Winston. 'St Martin's ? That's still standing. It's in Victory Square, alongside the picture gallery. A building with a kind of a triangular porch and pillars in front, and a big flight of steps.' Winston knew the place well. It was a museum used for propaganda displays of various kinds -- scale models of rocket bombs and Floating Fortresses, waxwork tableaux illustrating enemy atrocities, and the like. 'St Martin's-in-the-Fields it used to be called,' supplemented the old man, 'though I don't recollect any fields anywhere in those parts
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