George Orwell is by far my favorite writer (Surprised huh?)! I love his bias, its slap you in the face, unapologetic realism, because he lived it. Then I told him about the wastage of food in the workhouse kitchen, and what I thought of it. And at that he changed his tune immediately. I saw that I had awakened the pew-renter who sleeps in every English workman. Though he had been famished along with the rest, he at once saw reasons why the food should have been thrown away rather than given to the tramps. He admonished me quite severely. ‘They have to do it,’ he said. ‘If they made these places too pleasant you’d have all the scum of the country flocking into them. It’s only the bad food as keeps all that scum away. These tramps are too lazy to work, that’s all that’s wrong with them. You don’t want to go encouraging of them. They’re scum.’ I produced arguments to prove him wrong, but he would not listen. He kept repeating: ‘You don’t want to have any pity on these tramps — scum, they are. You don’t want to judge them by the same standards as men like you and me. They’re scum, just scum.’ It was interesting to see how subtly he disassociated himself from his fellow tramps. He has been on the road six months, but in the sight of God, he seemed to imply, he was not a tramp. His body might be in the spike, but his spirit soared far away, in the pure aether of the middle classes. ebooks.adelaide.edu.au/o/orwell/george/o79e/part1.html
Posted on: Thu, 22 May 2014 23:30:42 +0000
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