The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

by Robert Tressell

  Leaning against the railings, she felt very tired and ill. Everything around her – the street, the houses, the traffic – seemed vague and shadowy and unreal. Several people looked curiously at her as they passed, but by this time she was scarcely conscious of their scrutiny.

  Slyme had gone that evening to the usual ‘open-air’ conducted by the Shining Light Mission. The weather being fine, they had a most successful meeting, the disciples, including Hunter, Rushton, Sweater, Didlum, and Mrs Starvem – Ruth’s former mistress – assembled in great force so as to be able to deal more effectively with any infidels or hired critics or drunken scoffers who might try to disturb the proceedings; and – possibly as an evidence of how much real faith there was in them – they had also arranged to have a police officer in attendance, to protect them from what they called the ‘Powers of Darkness’. One might be excused for thinking that – if they really believed – they would have relied rather upon those powers of Light which they professed to represent on this planet to protect them without troubling to call in the aid of such a ‘worldly’ force as the police. However, it came to pass that on this occasion the only infidels present were those who were conducting the meeting, but as these consisted for the most part of members of the chapel, it will be seen that the infidel fraternity was strongly represented.

  On his way home after the meeting Slyme had to pass by the ‘Cricketers’ and as he drew near the place he wondered if Easton was there, but he did not like to go and look in, because he was afraid someone might see him coming away and perhaps think he had been in to drink. Just as he arrived opposite the house another man opened the door of the public bar and entered, enabling Slyme to catch a momentary glimpse of the interior, where he saw Easton and Crass with a number of others who were strangers to him, laughing and drinking together.

  Slyme hurried away; it had turned very cold, and he was anxious to get home. As he approached the place where the trams stopped to take up passengers and saw that there was a tram in sight he resolved to wait for it and ride home: but when the tram arrived there were only one or two seats vacant, and although he did his best to secure one of these he was unsuccessful, and after a moment’s hesitation he decided that it would be quicker to walk than to wait for the next one. He accordingly resumed his journey, but he had not gone very far when he saw a small crowd of people on the pavement on the other side of the road outside an unoccupied house, and although he was in a hurry to get home he crossed over to see what was the matter. There were about twenty people standing there, and in the centre close to the railing there were three or four women whom Slyme could not see although he could hear their voices.

  ‘What’s up?’ he inquired of a man on the edge of the crowd.

  ‘Oh, nothing much,’ returned the other. ‘Some young woman; she’s either ill, come over faint, or something – or else she’s had a drop too much.’

  ‘Quite a respectable-looking young party, too,’ said another man.

  Several young fellows in the crowd were amusing themselves by making suggestive jokes about the young woman and causing some laughter by the expressions of mock sympathy.

  ‘Doesn’t anyone know who she is?’ said the second man who had spoken in reply to Slyme’s inquiry.

  ‘No,’ said a woman who was standing a little nearer the middle of the crowd. ‘And she won’t say where she lives.’

  ‘She’ll be all right now she’s had that glass of soda,’ said another man, elbowing his way out of the crowd. As this individual came out, Slyme managed to work himself a little further into the group of people, and he uttered an involuntary cry of astonishment as he caught sight of Ruth, very pale, and looking very ill, as she stood clasping one of the railings with her left hand and holding the packages of groceries in the other. She had by this time recovered sufficiently to feel overwhelmed with shame and confusion before the crowd of strangers who hemmed her in on every side, and some of whom she could hear laughing and joking about her. It was therefore with a sensation of intense relief and gratitude that she saw Slyme’s familiar face and heard his friendly voice as he forced his way through to her side.

  ‘I can walk home all right now,’ she stammered in reply to his anxious questioning. ‘If you wouldn’t mind carrying some of these things for me.’

  He insisted on taking all the parcels, and the crowd, having jumped to the conclusion that he was the young woman’s husband, began to dwindle away, one of the jokers remarking ‘It’s all over!’ in a loud voice as he took himself off.

  It was only about seven minutes’ walk home from there, and as the streets along which they had to pass were not very brilliantly lighted, Ruth was able to lean on Slyme’s arm most of the way. When they arrived home, after she had removed her hat, he made her sit down in the armchair by the fire, which was burning brightly, and the kettle was singing on the hob, for she had banked up the fire with cinders and small coal before she went out.

  The baby was still asleep in the cradle, but his slumbers had evidently not been of the most restful kind, for he had kicked all the bedclothes off him and was lying all uncovered. Ruth obeyed passively when Slyme told her to sit down, and, lying back languidly in the armchair, she watched him through half-closed eyes and with a slight flush on her face as he deftly covered the sleeping child with the bedclothes and settled him more comfortably in the cot.

  Slyme now turned his attention to the fire, and as he placed the kettle upon it he remarked: ‘As soon as the water boils I’ll make you some strong tea.’

  During their walk home she had acquainted Slyme with the cause of her being in the condition in which he found her in the street, and as she reclined in the armchair, drowsily watching him, she wondered what would have happened to her if he had not passed by when he did.

  ‘Are you feeling better?’ he asked, looking down at her.

  ‘Yes, thanks. I feel quite well now; but I’m afraid I’ve given you a lot of trouble.’

  ‘No, you haven’t. Nothing I can do for you is a trouble to me. But don’t you think you’d better take your jacket off? Here, let me help you.’

  It took a very long time to get this jacket off, because whilst he was helping her, Slyme kissed her repeatedly and passionately as she lay limp and unresisting in his arms.

  25

  The Oblong

  During the following week the work at ‘The Cave’ progressed rapidly towards completion, although, the hours of daylight being so few, the men worked only from 8 A.M. till 4 P.M. and they had their breakfasts before they came. This made 40 hours a week, so that those who were paid sevenpence an hour earned £1.3.4. Those who got sixpence-halfpenny drew £1.1.8. Those whose wages were fivepence an hour were paid the princely sum of 16/8d. for their week’s hard labour, and those whose rate was fourpence-halfpenny ‘picked up’ 15/-.

  And yet there are people who have the insolence to say that Drink is the cause of poverty.

  And many of the persons who say this, spend more money than that on drink themselves – every day of their useless lives.

  By Tuesday night all the inside was finished with the exception of the kitchen and scullery. The painting of the kitchen had been delayed owing to the non-arrival of the new cooking range, and the scullery was still used as the paint-shop. The outside work was also nearly finished: all the first coating was done and the second coating was being proceeded with. According to the specification, all the outside woodwork was supposed to have three coats, and the guttering, rain-pipes and other ironwork two coats, but Crass and Hunter had arranged to make two coats do for most of the windows and woodwork, and all the ironwork was to be made to do with one coat only. The windows were painted in two colours: the sashes dark green and the frames white. All the rest – gables, doors, railings, guttering, etc. – was dark green; and all the dark green paint was made with boiled linseed oil and varnish; no turpentine being allowed to be used on this part of the work.

  ‘This is some bloody fine stuff to ’ave to use, ain’t it?
’ remarked Harlow to Philpot on Wednesday morning. ‘It’s more like a lot of treacle than anything else.’

  ‘Yes: and it won’t arf blister next summer when it gets a bit of sun on it,’ replied Philpot with a grin.

  ‘I suppose they’re afraid that if they was to put a little turps in, it wouldn’t bear out, and they’d ’ave to give it another coat.’

  ‘You can bet yer life that’s the reason,’ said Philpot. ‘But all the same I mean to pinch a drop to put in mine as soon as Crass is gorn.’

  ‘Gorn where?’

  ‘Why, didn’t you know? there’s another funeral on today? Didn’t you see that corfin plate what Owen was writing in the drorin’-room last Saturday morning?’

  ‘No, I wasn’t ’ere. Don’t you remember I was sent away to do a ceilin’ and a bit of painting over at Windley?’

  ‘Oh, of course; I forgot,’ exclaimed Philpot.

  ‘I reckon Crass and Slyme must be making a small fortune out of all these funerals,’ said Harlow. ‘This makes the fourth in the last fortnight. What is it they gets for ’em?’

  ‘A shillin’ for takin’ ’ome the corfin and liftin’ in the corpse, and four bob for the funeral – five bob altogether.’

  ‘That’s a bit of all right, ain’t it?’ said Harlow. ‘A couple of them in a week besides your week’s wages, eh? Five bob for two or three hours work!’

  ‘Yes, the money’s all right, mate, but they’re welcome to it for my part. I don’t want to go messin’ about with no corpses,’ replied Philpot with a shudder.

  ‘Who is this last party what’s dead?’ asked Harlow after a pause.

  ‘It’s a parson what used to belong to the “Shining Light” Chapel. He’d been abroad for ’is ’ollerdays – to Monte Carlo. It seems ’e was ill before ’e went away, but the change did ’im a lot of good; in fact, ’e was quite recovered, and ’e was coming back again. But while ’e was standin’ on the platform at Monte Carlo Station waitin’ for the train, a porter runned into ’im with a barrer load o’ luggage, and ’e blowed up.’

  ‘Blowed up?’

  ‘Yes,’ repeated Philpot. ‘Blowed up! Busted! Exploded! All into pieces. But they swep’ ’em all up and put it in a corfin and it’s to be planted this afternoon.’

  Harlow maintained an awestruck silence, and Philpot continued:

  ‘I had a drink the other night with a butcher bloke what used to serve this parson with meat, and we was talkin’ about what a strange sort of death it was, but ’e said ’e wasn’t at all surprised to ’ear of it; the only thing as ’e wondered at was that the man didn’t blow up long ago, considerin’ the amount of grub as ’e used to make away with. He ses the quantities of stuff as ’e’s took there and seen other tradesmen take was something chronic. Tons of it!’

  ‘What was the parson’s name?’ asked Harlow.

  ‘Belcher. You must ’ave noticed ’im about the town. A very fat chap,’ replied Philpot. ‘I’m sorry you wasn’t ’ere on Saturday to see the corfin plate. Frank called me in to see the wordin’ when ’e’d finished it. It had on: “Jonydab Belcher. Born January 1st, 1849. Ascended, December 8th, 19 –”’

  ‘Oh, I know the bloke now!’ cried Harlow. ‘I remember my youngsters bringin’ ’ome a subscription list what they’d got up at the Sunday School to send ’im away for a ’ollerday because ’e was ill, and I gave ’em a penny each to put on their cards because I didn’t want ’em to feel mean before the other young ’uns.’

  ‘Yes, it’s the same party. Two or three young ’uns asked me to give ’em something to put on at the time. And I see they’ve got another subscription list on now. I met one of Newman’s children yesterday and she showed it to me. It’s for an entertainment and a Christmas Tree for all the children what goes to the Sunday School, so I didn’t mind giving just a trifle for anything like that.’…

  ‘Seems to be gettin’ colder, don’t it?’

  ‘It’s enough to freeze the ears orf a brass monkey!’ remarked Easton as he descended from a ladder close by and, placing his pot of paint on the ground, began to try to warm his hands by rubbing and beating them together.

  He was trembling, and his teeth were chattering with cold.

  ‘I could just do with a nice pint of beer, now,’ he said as he stamped his feet on the ground.

  ‘That’s just what I was thinkin’,’ said Philpot, wistfully, ‘and what’s more, I mean to ’ave one, too, at dinner-time. I shall nip down to the “Cricketers”. Even if I don’t get back till a few minutes after one, it won’t matter, because Crass and Nimrod will be gorn to the funeral.’

  ‘Will you bring me a pint back with you, in a bottle?’ asked Easton.

  ‘Yes, certainly,’ said Philpot.

  Harlow said nothing. He also would have liked a pint of beer, but, as was usual with him, he had not the necessary cash. Having restored the circulation to a certain extent, they now resumed their work, and only just in time, for a few minutes afterwards they observed Misery peeping round the corner of the house at them and they wondered how long he had been there, and whether he had overheard their conversation.

  At twelve o’clock Crass and Slyme cleared off in a great hurry, and a little while afterwards, Philpot took off his apron and put on his coat to go to the ‘Cricketers’. When the others found out where he was going, several of them asked him to bring back a drink for them, and then someone suggested that all those who wanted some beer should give twopence each. This was done: one shilling and fourpence was collected and given to Philpot, who was to bring back a gallon of beer in a jar. He promised to get back as soon as ever he could, and some of the shareholders decided not to drink any tea with their dinners, but to wait for the beer, although they knew that it would be nearly time to resume work before he could get back. It would be a quarter to one at the very earliest.

  The minutes dragged slowly by, and after a while the only man on the job who had a watch began to lose his temper and refused to answer any more inquiries concerning the time. So presently Bert was sent up to the top of the house to look at a church clock which was visible therefrom, and when he came down he reported that it was ten minutes to one.

  Symptoms of anxiety now began to manifest themselves amongst the shareholders, several of whom went down to the main road to see if Philpot was yet in sight, but each returned with the same report – they could see nothing of him.

  No one was formally ‘in charge’ of the job during Crass’s absence, but they all returned to their work promptly at one because they feared that Sawkins or some other sneak might report any irregularity to Crass or Misery.

  At a quarter-past one, Philpot was still missing and the uneasiness of the shareholders began to develop into a panic. Some of them plainly expressed the opinion that he had gone on the razzle with the money. As the time wore on, this became the general opinion. At two o’clock, all hope of his return having been abandoned, two or three of the shareholders went and drank some of the cold tea.

  Their fears were only too well founded, for they saw no more of Philpot till the next morning, when he arrived looking very sheepish and repentant and promised to refund all the money on Saturday. He also made a long, rambling statement from which it appeared that on his way to the ‘Cricketers’ he met a couple of chaps whom he knew who were out of work, and he invited them to come and have a drink. When they got to the pub, they found there the Semi-drunk and the Besotted Wretch. One drink led to another, and then they started arguing, and he had forgotten all about the gallon of beer until he woke up this morning.

  Whilst Philpot was making this explanation they were putting on their aprons and blouses, and Crass was serving out the lots of colour. Slyme took no part in the conversation, but got ready as quickly as possible and went outside to make a start. The reason for this haste soon became apparent to some of the others, for they noticed that he had selected and commenced painting a large window that was so situated as to be sheltered from the keen wind that was blowing.

&nb
sp; The basement of the house was slightly below the level of the ground and there was a sort of a trench or area about three feet deep in front of the basement windows. The banks of this trench were covered with rose trees and evergreens, and the bottom was a mass of slimy, evil-smelling, rain-sodden earth, foul with the excrement of nocturnal animals. To second-coat these basement windows, Philpot and Harlow had to get down into and stand in all this filth, which soaked through the worn and broken soles of their boots. As they worked, the thorns of the rose trees caught and tore their clothing and lacerated the flesh of their half-frozen hands.

  Owen and Easton were working on ladders doing the windows immediately above Philpot and Harlow, Sawkins, on another ladder, was painting one of the gables, and the other men were working at different parts of the outside of the house. The boy Bert was painting the iron railings of the front fence. The weather was bitterly cold, the sun was concealed by the dreary expanse of grey cloud that covered the wintry sky.

  As they stood there working most of the time they were almost perfectly motionless, the only part of their bodies that were exercised being their right arms. The work they were now doing required to be done very carefully and deliberately, otherwise the glass would be ‘messed up’ or the white paint of the frames would ‘run into’ the dark green of the sashes, both colours being wet at the same time, each man having two pots of paint and two sets of brushes. The wind was not blowing in sudden gusts, but swept by in a strong, persistent current that penetrated their clothing and left them trembling and numb with cold. It blew from the right; and it was all the worse on that account, because the right arm, being in use, left that side of the body fully exposed. They were able to keep their left hands in their trousers pockets and the left arm close to the side most of the time. This made a lot of difference.