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or what they are worth I want to give my opinions about
Fthe life of a Paris PLONGEUR. When one comes to
think of it, it is strange that thousands of people in a great
modem 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, FAINEANT 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 modem world. Not that there is any
need to whine over him, for he is better off than many man-
ual 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 fif-
teen 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 treat-

1 Down and Out in Paris and London