The Little Tramp

“But truly, if I were not Alexander, I wish I were Diogenes."

The Tramp: 

Go on! Do me in then, you bastard cowards!! 

I don't want to live anyway...not in a stinking World like this...!!

Alexander The Great : 

Oh...and what's so •stinking• about it...?

Tramp: 

It's a Stinking World because there's no Law and Order anymore! It's a Stinking World because it lets The Young get onto The Old, like you done. 

Oh...it's no World for an Old Man any longer. 

What sort of a World is it at all? MEN on The MOON, and men spinning around The Earth ....!! and there's not no attention paid to Earthly Law and Order no more...!!

Sometimes The Truth isn't good enough. 

Sometimes people deserve more.

Sometimes people deserve to have their Faith rewarded. 

“The man with the Charlie Chaplin mustache, who had been a down-and-out tramp in Vienna in his youth, an unknown soldier of World War I, a derelict in Munich in the first grim postwar days, the somewhat comical leader of the Beer Hall Putsch, this spellbinder who was not even German but Austrian, and who was only forty-three years old, had just been administered the oath as Chancellor of the German Reich.

Tired but happy, Goebbels arrived home that night at 3 A.M. Scribbling in his diary before retiring, he wrote:

”It is almost like a dream . . .  a fairy tale . . .  The new Reich has been born. Fourteen years of work have been crowned with victory. The German revolution has begun!”

"Hitler could not have succeeded against his many rivals if it had not been for the attraction of his own personality, which one can feel even in the clumsy writing of Mein Kampf, and which is no doubt overwhelming when one hears his speeches. 

I should like to put it on record that I have never been able to dislike Hitler.

Ever since he came to power -- till then, like nearly everyone, I had been deceived into thinking that he did not matter -- I have reflected that I would certainly kill him if I could get within reach of him, but that I could feel no personal animosity. 

The fact is that there is something deeply appealing about him. One feels it again when one sees his photographs -- and I recommend especially the photograph at the beginning of Hurst and Blackett's edition, which shows Hitler in his early Brownshirt days. It is a pathetic, dog-like face, the face of a man suffering under intolerable wrongs. 

In a rather more manly way it reproduces the expression of innumerable pictures of Christ crucified, and there is little doubt that that is how Hitler sees himself. 

The initial personal cause of his grievance against the universe can only be guessed at; but at any rate the grievance is there. He is The Martyr, The Victim. Prometheus chained to the rock, the self-sacrificing hero who fights single-handed against impossible odds. If he were killing a mouse he would know how to make it seem like a dragon. 

One feels, as with Napoleon, that he is fighting against Destiny, that he can't win, and yet that he somehow deserves to. The attraction of such a pose is of course enormous; half the films that one sees turn upon some such theme. 

Also he has grasped the falsity of the hedonistic attitude to life. Nearly all western thought since the last war, certainly all "progressive" thought, has assumed tacitly that human beings desire nothing beyond ease, security and avoidance of pain. In such a view of life there is no room, for instance, for patriotism and the military virtues. 

The Socialist who finds his children playing with soldiers is usually upset, but he is never able to think of a substitute for The Tin Soldiers; Tin Pacifists somehow won't do. 

Hitler, because in his own joyless mind he feels it with exceptional strength, knows that human beings don't only want comfort, safety, short working-hours, hygiene, birth-control and, in general, common sense; they also, at least intermittently, want struggle and self-sacrifice, not to mention drums, flags and loyalty-parades. 

However they may be as economic theories, Fascism and Nazism are psychologically far sounder than any hedonistic conception of life. The same is probably true of Stalin's militarized version of Socialism. 

All three of the great dictators have enhanced their power by imposing intolerable burdens on their peoples. 

Whereas Socialism, and even capitalism in a more grudging way, have said to people "I offer you a good time," Hitler has said to them "I offer you struggle, danger and death," and as a result a whole nation flings itself at his feet. 

Perhaps later on they will get sick of it and change their minds, as at the end of the last war. After a few years of slaughter and starvation "Greatest happiness of the greatest number" is a good slogan, but at this moment "Better an end with horror than a horror without end" is a winner. 

Now that we are fighting against the man who coined it, we ought not to underrate its emotional appeal.

George Orwell,
New English Weekly, 

21 July 1940