Down and Out in Paris and London

FOR what they are worth I want to give my opinions about the life of a Paris _plongeur_. When one comes to think of it, it is strange that thousands of people in a great modern city should spend their waking hours swabbing dishes in hot dens underground. The question I am raising is why this life goes on--what purpose it serves, and who wants it to continue, and why I am not taking the merely rebellious, _fainéant_ attitude. I am trying to consider the social significance of a _plongeur's_ life.

I think one should start by saying that a _plongeur_ is one of the slaves of the modern world. Not that there is any need to whine over him, for he is better off than many manual workers, but still, he is no freer than if he were bought and sold. His work is servile and without art; he is paid just enough to keep him alive; his only holiday is the sack. He is cut off from marriage, or, if he marries, his wife must work too. Except by a lucky chance, he has no escape from this life, save into prison. At this moment there are men with university degrees scrubbing dishes in Paris for ten or fifteen hours a day. One cannot say that it is mere idleness on their part, for an idle man cannot be a _plongeur_; they have simply been trapped by a routine which makes thought impossible. If _plongeurs_ thought at all, they would long ago have formed a union and gone on strike for better treatment. But they do not think, because they have no leisure for it; their life has made slaves of them.