The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

by Robert Tressell

  Leaving the man dumbfounded and without waiting for a reply, Misery went downstairs and after kicking up a devil of a row with the foreman for the lack of discipline on the job, he instructed him that Smith was not to be permitted to resume work after breakfast. Then he rode away. He had come in so stealthily that no one had known anything of his arrival until they heard him bellowing at Smith.

  The latter did not stay to take breakfast but went off at once, and when he was gone the other chaps said it served him bloody well right: he was always singing, he ought to have more sense. You can’t do as you like nowadays you know!

  Easton – who was working at another job with Crass as his foreman – knew that unless some more work came in he was likely to be one of those who would have to go. As far as he could see it was only a week or two at the most before everything would be finished up. But notwithstanding the prospect of being out of work so soon he was far happier than he had been for several months past, for he imagined he had discovered the cause of Ruth’s strange manner.

  This knowledge came to him on the night of the Beano. When he arrived home he found that Ruth had already gone to bed: she had not been well, and it was Mrs Linden’s explanation of her illness that led Easton to think that he had discovered the cause of the unhappiness of the last few months. Now that he knew – as he thought – he blamed himself for not having been more considerate and patient with her. At the same time he was at a loss to understand why she had not told him about it herself. The only explanation he could think of was the one suggested by Mrs Linden – that at such times women often behaved strangely. However that might be, he was glad to think he knew the reason of it all, and he resolved that he would be more gentle and forebearing with her.

  The place where he was working was practically finished. It was a large house called ‘The Refuge’, very similar to ‘The Cave’, and during the last week or two, it had become what they called a ‘hospital’. That is, as the other jobs became finished the men were nearly all sent to this one, so that there was quite a large crowd of them there. The inside work was all finished – with the exception of the kitchen, which was used as a mess room, and the scullery, which was the paint-shop.

  Everybody was working on the job. [Poor old Joe Philpot, whose rheumatism had been very bad lately, was doing a very rough job – painting the gable from a long ladder.

  But though there were plenty of younger men more suitable for this, Philpot did not care to complain for fear Crass or Misery should think he was not up to his work. At dinner-time all the old hands assembled in the kitchen, including Crass, Easton, Harlow, Bundy and Dick Wantley, who still sat on a pail behind his usual moat.

  Philpot and Harlow were absent and everybody wondered what had become of them.

  Several times during the morning they had been seen whispering together and comparing scraps of paper, and various theories were put forward to account for their disappearance.] [Most of the men thought they must have heard something] good about the probable winner of the Handicap and had gone to put something on. Some others thought that perhaps they had heard of another ‘job’ about to be started by some other firm and had gone to inquire about it.

  ‘Looks to me as if they’ll stand a very good chance of gettin’ drowned if they’re gone very far,’ remarked Easton, referring to the weather. It had been threatening to rain all the morning, and during the last few minutes it had become so dark that Crass lit the gas, so that – as he expressed it – they should be able to see the way to their mouths. Outside, the wind grew more boisterous every moment; the darkness continued to increase, and presently there succeeded a torrential downfall of rain, which beat fiercely against the windows, and poured in torrents down the glass. The men glanced gloomily at each other. No more work could be done outside that day, and there was nothing left to do inside. As they were paid by the hour, this would mean that they would have to lose half a day’s pay.

  ‘If it keeps on like this we won’t be able to do no more work, and we won’t be able to go home either,’ remarked Easton.

  ‘Well, we’re all right ’ere, ain’t we?’ said the man behind the moat; ‘there’s a nice fire and plenty of heasy chairs. Wot the ’ell more do you want?’

  ‘Yes,’ remarked another philosopher. ‘If we only had a shoveha’penny table or a ring board, I reckon we should be able to enjoy ourselves all right.’

  Philpot and Harlow were still absent, and the others again fell to wondering where they could be.

  ‘I see old Joe up on ’is ladder only a few minutes before twelve,’ remarked Wantley.

  Everyone agreed that it was a mystery.

  [At this moment the two truants returned, looking very important.

  Philpot was armed with a hammer and carried a pair of steps, while Harlow bore a large piece of wallpaper which the two of them proceeded to tack on the wall, much to the amusement of the others, who read the announcement following, written in charcoal.]

  Every day at meals since Barrington’s unexpected outburst at the Beano dinner, the men had been trying their best to ‘kid him on’ to make another speech, but so far without success. If anything, he had been even more silent and reserved than before, as if he felt some regret that he had spoken as he had on that occasion. Crass and his disciples attributed Barrington’s manner to fear that he was going to get the sack for his trouble and they agreed amongst themselves that it would serve him bloody well right if ’e did get the push.

  When they had fixed the poster on the wall, Philpot stood the steps in the corner of the room, with the back part facing outwards, and then, everything being ready for the lecturer, the two sat down in their accustomed places and began to eat their dinners, Harlow remarking that they would have to buck up or they would be too late for the meeting; and the rest of the crowd began to discuss the poster.

  ‘Wot the ’ell does PLO mean?’ demanded Bundy, with a puzzled expression.

  ‘Plain Layer On,’ answered Philpot modestly.

  ‘’Ave you ever ’eard the Professor preach before?’ inquired the man on the pail, addressing Bundy.

  Imperial Bankquet Hall

  ‘The Refuge’

  on thursday at 12.30 prompt

  professor barrington

  WILL DELIVER A

  ORATION

  ENTITLED

  THE GREAT SECRET, OR

  HOW TO LIVE WITHOUT WORK

  The Rev. Joe Philpot PLO

  (Late absconding secretary of the light refreshment fund)

  Will take the chair and anything else

  he can lay his hands on.

  At The End Of The Lecture

  A MEETING WILL BE ARRANGED

  And carried out according to the

  marquis of Queensbury’s Rules.

  A Collection will be look up

  in aid of the cost of printing

  ‘Only once, at the Beano,’ replied that individual; ‘an’ that was once too often!’

  ‘Finest speaker I ever ’eard,’ said the man on the pail with enthusiasm. ‘I wouldn’t miss this lecture for anything: this is one of ’is best subjects. I got ’ere about two hours before the doors was opened, so as to be sure to get a seat.’

  ‘Yes, it’s a very good subject,’ said Crass, with a sneer. ‘I believe most of the Labour Members in Parliament is well up in it.’

  ‘And wot about the other members?’ demanded Philpot. ‘Seems to me as if most of them knows something about it too.’

  ‘The difference is,’ said Owen, ‘the working classes voluntarily pay to keep the Labour Members, but whether they like it or not, they have to keep the others.’

  ‘The Labour members is sent to the ’Ouse of Commons,’ said Harlow, ‘and paid their wages to do certain work for the benefit of the working classes, just the same as we’re sent ’ere and paid our wages by the Bloke to paint this ’ouse.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Crass; ‘but if we didn’t do the work we’re paid to do, we should bloody soon get the sack.’
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  ‘I can’t see how we’ve got to keep the other members,’ said Slyme; ‘they’re mostly rich men, and they live on their own money.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Crass. ‘And I should like to know where we should be without ’em! Talk about us keepin’ them! It seems to me more like it that they keeps us! The likes of us lives on rich people. Where should we be if it wasn’t for all the money they spend and the work they ’as done? If the owner of this ’ouse ’adn’t ’ad the money to spend to ’ave it done up, most of us would ’ave bin out of work this last six weeks, and starvin’, the same as lots of others ’as been.’

  ‘Oh yes, that’s right enough,’ agreed Bundy. ‘Labour is no good without Capital. Before any work can be done there’s one thing necessary, and that’s money. It would be easy to find work for all the unemployed if the local authorities could only raise the money.’

  ‘Yes; that’s quite true,’ said Owen. ‘And that proves that money is the cause of poverty, because poverty consists in being short of the necessaries of life: the necessaries of life are all produced by labour applied to the raw materials: the raw materials exist in abundance and there are plenty of people able and willing to work; but under present conditions no work can be done without money; and so we have the spectacle of a great army of people compelled to stand idle and starve by the side of the raw materials from which their labour could produce abundance of all the things they need – they are rendered helpless by the power of Money! Those who possess all the money say that the necessaries of life shall not be produced except for their profit.’

  ‘Yes! and you can’t alter it,’ said Crass, triumphantly. ‘It’s always been like it, and it always will be like it.’

  ‘’Ear! ’Ear!’ shouted the man behind the moat. ‘There’s always been rich and poor in the world, and there always will be.’

  Several others expressed their enthusiastic agreement with Crass’s opinion, and most of them appeared to be highly delighted to think that the existing state of affairs could never be altered.

  ‘It hasn’t always been like it, and it won’t always be like it,’ said Owen. ‘The time will come, and it’s not very far distant, when the necessaries of life will be produced for use and not for profit. The time is coming when it will no longer be possible for a few selfish people to condemn thousands of men and women and little children to live in misery and die of want.’

  ‘Ah well, it won’t be in your time, or mine either,’ said Crass gleefully, and most of the others laughed with imbecile satisfaction.

  ‘I’ve ’eard a ’ell of a lot about this ’ere Socialism,’ remarked the man behind the moat, ‘but up to now I’ve never met nobody wot could tell you plainly exactly wot it is.’

  ‘Yes; that’s what I should like to know too,’ said Easton.

  ‘Socialism means “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine’s me own,”’ observed Bundy, and during the laughter that greeted this definition Slyme was heard to say that Socialism meant Materialism, Atheism and Free Love, and if it were ever to come about it would degrade men and women to the level of brute beasts. Harlow said Socialism was a beautiful ideal, which he for one would be very glad to see realized, and he was afraid it was altogether too good to be practical, because human nature is too mean and selfish. Sawkins said that Socialism was a lot of bloody rot, and Crass expressed the opinion – which he had culled from the delectable columns of the Obscurer – that it meant robbing the industries for the benefit of the idle and thriftless.

  Philpot had by this time finished his bread and cheese, and, having taken a final draught of tea, he rose to his feet, and crossing over to the corner of the room, ascended the pulpit, being immediately greeted with a tremendous outburst of hooting, howling and booing, which he smilingly acknowledged by removing his cap from his bald head and bowing repeatedly. When the storm of shrieks, yells, groans and catcalls had in some degree subsided, and Philpot was able to make himself heard, he addressed the meeting as follows:

  ‘Gentlemen: First of all I beg to thank you very sincerely for the magnificent and cordial reception you have given me on this occasion, and I shall try to deserve your good opinion by opening the meeting as briefly as possible.

  ‘Putting all jokes aside, I think we’re all agreed about one thing, and that is, that there’s plenty of room for improvement in things in general. (Hear, hear.) As our other lecturer, Professor Owen, pointed out in one of ’is lectures and as most of you ’ave read in the newspapers, although British trade was never so good before as it is now, there was never so much misery and poverty, and so many people out of work, and so many small shopkeepers goin’ up the spout as there is at this partickiler time. Now, some people tells us as the way to put everything right is to ’ave Free Trade and plenty of cheap food. Well, we’ve got them all now, but the misery seems to go on all around us all the same. Then there’s other people tells us as the “Friscal Policy” is the thing to put everything right. (“Hear, hear” from Crass and several others.) And then there’s another lot that ses that Socialism is the only remedy. Well, we all know pretty well wot Free Trade and Protection means, but most of us don’t know exactly what Socialism means; and I say as it’s the dooty of every man to try and find out which is the right thing to vote for, and when ’e’s found it out, to do wot ’e can to ’elp to bring it about. And that’s the reason we’ve gorn to the enormous expense of engaging Professor Barrington to come ’ere this afternoon and tell us exactly what Socialism is.

  ‘As I ’ope you’re all just as anxious to ’ear it as I am myself, I will not stand between you and the lecturer no longer, but will now call upon ’im to address you.’

  Philpot was loudly applauded as he descended from the pulpit, and in response to the clamorous demands of the crowd, Barrington, who in the meantime had yielded to Owen’s entreaties that he would avail himself of this opportunity of proclaiming the glad tidings of the good time that is to be, got up on the steps in his turn.

  Harlow, desiring that everything should be done decently and in order, had meantime arranged in front of the pulpit a carpenter’s sawing stool, and an empty pail with a small piece of board laid across it, to serve as a seat and a table for the chairman. Over the table he draped a large red handkerchief. At the right he placed a plumber’s large hammer; at the left, a battered and much-chipped jam-jar, full of tea. Philpot having taken his seat on the pail at this table and announced his intention of bashing out with the hammer the brains of any individual who ventured to disturb the meeting, Barrington commenced:

  ‘Mr Chairman and Gentlemen. For the sake of clearness, and in order to avoid confusing one subject with another, I have decided to divide the oration into two parts. First, I will try to explain as well as I am able what Socialism is. I will try to describe to you the plan or system upon which the Co-operative Commonwealth of the future will be organized; and, secondly, I will try to tell you how it can be brought about. But before proceeding with the first part of the subject, I would like to refer very slightly to the widespread delusion that Socialism is impossible because it means a complete change from an order of things which has always existed. We constantly hear it said that because there have always been rich and poor in the world, there always must be. I want to point out to you first of all, that it is not true that even in its essential features, the present system has existed from all time; it is not true that there have always been rich and poor in the world, in the sense that we understand riches and poverty today.

  ‘These statements are lies that have been invented for the purpose of creating in us a feeling of resignation to the evils of our condition. They are lies which have been fostered by those who imagine that it is to their interest that we should be content to see our children condemned to the same poverty and degradation that we have endured ourselves.

  ‘I do not propose – because there is not time, although it is really part of my subject – to go back to the beginnings of history, and describe in detail the different sy
stems of social organization which evolved from and superseded each other at different periods, but it is necessary to remind you that the changes that have taken place in the past have been even greater than the change proposed by Socialists today. The change from savagery and cannibalism when men used to devour the captives they took in war – to the beginning of chattel slavery, when the tribes or clans into which mankind were divided – whose social organization was a kind of Communism, all the individuals belonging to the tribe being practically social equals, members of one great family – found it more profitable to keep their captives as slaves than to eat them. The change from the primitive Communism of the tribes, into the more individualistic organization of the nations, and the development of private ownership of the land and slaves and means of subsistence. The change from chattel slavery into Feudalism; and the change from Feudalism into the earlier form of Capitalism; and the equally great change from what might be called the individualistic capitalism which displaced Feudalism, to the system of Co-operative Capitalism and Wage Slavery of today.’

  ‘I believe you must ’ave swollered a bloody dictionary,’ exclaimed the man behind the moat.

  ‘Keep horder!’ shouted Philpot, fiercely, striking the table with the hammer, and there were loud shouts of ‘Chair’ and ‘Chuck ’im out,’ from several quarters.

  When order was restored, the lecturer proceeded:

  ‘So it is not true that practically the same state of affairs as we have today has always existed. It is not true that anything like the poverty that prevails at present existed at any previous period of the world’s history. When the workers were the property of their masters, it was to their owners’ interest to see that they were properly clothed and fed; they were not allowed to be idle, and they were not allowed to starve. Under Feudalism also, although there were certain intolerable circumstances, the position of the workers was, economically, infinitely better than it is today. The worker was in subjection to his Lord, but in return his lord had certain responsibilities and duties to perform, and there was a large measure of community of interest between them.