Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖

where you can buy ice-cream, lemon

squash, four ale, and American cold drinks; and you’re allowed to sit

in a refrigerator for two hours for a tanner.’

 

Although they laughed and made fun of these things the reader must not

think that they really doubted the truth of the Christian religion,

because - although they had all been brought up by `Christian’ parents

and had been `educated’ in `Christian’ schools - none of them knew

enough about Christianity to either really believe it or disbelieve

it. The imposters who obtain a comfortable living by pretending to be

the ministers and disciples of the Workman of Nazareth are too cunning

to encourage their dupes to acquire anything approaching an

intelligent understanding of the subject. They do not want people to

know or understand anything: they want them to have Faith - to believe

without knowledge, understanding, or evidence. For years Harlow and

his mates - when children - had been `taught’ `Christianity’ in day

school, Sunday School and in church or chapel, and now they knew

practically nothing about it! But they were `Christians’ all the

same. They believed that the Bible was the word of God, but they

didn’t know where it came from, how long it had been in existence, who

wrote it, who translated it or how many different versions there were.

Most of them were almost totally unacquainted with the contents of the

book itself. But all the same, they believed it - after a fashion.

 

`But puttin’ all jokes aside,’ said Philpot, `I can’t believe there’s

sich a place as ‘ell. There may be some kind of punishment, but I

don’t believe it’s a real fire.’

 

`Nor nobody else, what’s got any sense,’ replied Harlow,

contemptuously.

 

`I believe as THIS world is ‘ell,’ said Crass, looking around with a

philosophic expression. This opinion was echoed by most of the

others, although Slyme remained silent and Owen laughed.

 

`Wot the bloody ‘ell are YOU laughin’ at?’ Crass demanded in an

indignant tone.

 

`I was laughing because you said you think this world is hell.’

 

`Well, I don’t see nothing to laugh at in that,’ said Crass.

 

`So it IS a ‘ell,’ said Easton. `There can’t be anywheres much worse

than this.’

 

`‘Ear, ‘ear,’ said the man behind the moat.

 

`What I was laughing at is this,’ said Owen. `The present system of

managing the affairs of the world is so bad and has produced such

dreadful results that you are of the opinion that the earth is a hell:

and yet you are a Conservative! You wish to preserve the present

system - the system which has made the world into a hell!’

 

`I thought we shouldn’t get through the dinner hour without politics

if Owen was ‘ere,’ growled Bundy. `Bloody sickenin’ I call it.’

 

`Don’t be ‘ard on ‘im,’ said Philpot. `‘E’s been very quiet for the

last few days.’

 

`We’ll ‘ave to go through it today, though,’ remarked Harlow

despairingly. `I can see it comin’.’

 

`I’M not goin’ through it,’ said Bundy, `I’m orf!’ And he accordingly

drank the remainder of his tea, closed his empty dinner basket and,

having placed it on the mantelshelf, made for the door.

 

`I’ll leave you to it,’ he said as he went out. The others laughed.

 

Crass, remembering the cutting from the Obscurer that he had in his

pocket, was secretly very pleased at the turn the conversation was

taking. He turned roughly on Owen:

 

`The other day, when we was talkin’ about the cause of poverty, you

contradicted everybody. Everyone else was wrong! But you yourself

couldn’t tell us what’s the cause of poverty, could you?’

 

`I think I could.’

 

`Oh, of course, you think you know,’ sneered Crass, `and of course you

think your opinion’s right and everybody else’s is wrong.’

 

`Yes,’ replied Owen.

 

Several men expressed their abhorrence of this intolerant attitude of

Owen’s, but the latter rejoined:

 

`Of course I think that my opinions are right and that everyone who

differs from me is wrong. If I didn’t think their opinions were wrong

I wouldn’t differ from them. If I didn’t think my own opinions right

I wouldn’t hold them.’

 

`But there’s no need to keep on arguin’ about it day after day,’ said

Crass. `You’ve got your opinion and I’ve got mine. Let everyone

enjoy his own opinion, I say.’

 

A murmur of approbation from the crowd greeted these sentiments; but

Owen rejoined:

 

`But we can’t both be right; if your opinions are right and mine are

not, how am I to find out the truth if we never talk about them?’

 

`Well, wot do you reckon is the cause of poverty, then?’ demanded

Easton.

 

`The present system - competition - capitalism.’

 

`It’s all very well to talk like that,’ snarled Crass, to whom this

statement conveyed no meaning whatever. `But ‘ow do you make it out?’

 

`Well, I put it like that for the sake of shortness,’ replied Owen.

`Suppose some people were living in a house -‘

 

`More supposin’!’ sneered Crass.

 

`And suppose they were always ill, and suppose that the house was

badly built, the walls so constructed that they drew and retained

moisture, the roof broken and leaky, the drains defective, the doors

and windows ill-fitting and the rooms badly shaped and draughty. If

you were asked to name, in a word, the cause of the ill-health of the

people who lived there you would say - the house. All the tinkering

in the world would not make that house fit to live in; the only thing

to do with it would be to pull it down and build another. Well, we’re

all living in a house called the Money System; and as a result most of

us are suffering from a disease called poverty. There’s so much the

matter with the present system that it’s no good tinkering at it.

Everything about it is wrong and there’s nothing about it that’s

right. There’s only one thing to be done with it and that is to smash

it up and have a different system altogether. We must get out of it.’

 

`It seems to me that that’s just what you’re trying to do,’ remanded

Harlow, sarcastically. `You seem to be tryin’ to get out of answering

the question what Easton asked you.’

 

`Yes!’ cried Crass, fiercely. `Why don’t you answer the bloody

question? Wot’s the cause of poverty?’

 

`What the ‘ell’s the matter with the present system?’ demanded

Sawkins.

 

`Ow’s it goin’ to be altered?’ said Newman.

 

`Wot the bloody ‘ell sort of a system do YOU think we ought to ‘ave?’

shouted the man behind the moat.

 

`It can’t never be altered,’ said Philpot. `Human nature’s human

nature and you can’t get away from it.’

 

`Never mind about human nature,’ shouted Crass. `Stick to the point.

Wot’s the cause of poverty?’

 

`Oh, b—r the cause of poverty!’ said one of the new hands. `I’ve ‘ad

enough of this bloody row.’ And he stood up and prepared to go out of

the room.

 

This individual had two patches on the seat of his trousers and the

bottoms of the legs of that garment were frayed and ragged. He had

been out of work for about six weeks previous to having been taken on

by Rushton & Co. During most of that time he and his family had been

existing in a condition of semi-starvation on the earnings of his wife

as a charwoman and on the scraps of food she brought home from the

houses where she worked. But all the same, the question of what is

the cause of poverty had no interest for him.

 

`There are many causes,’ answered Owen, `but they are all part of and

inseparable from the system. In order to do away with poverty we must

destroy the causes: to do away with the causes we must destroy the

whole system.’

 

`What are the causes, then?’

 

`Well, money, for one thing.’

 

This extraordinary assertion was greeted with a roar of merriment, in

the midst of which Philpot was heard to say that to listen to Owen was

as good as going to a circus. Money was the cause of poverty!

 

`I always thought it was the want of it!’ said the man with the

patches on the seat of his trousers as he passed out of the door.

 

`Other things,’ continued Owen, `are private ownership of land,

private ownership of railways, tramways, gasworks, waterworks, private

ownership of factories, and the other means of producing the

necessaries and comforts of life. Competition in business -‘

 

`But ‘ow do you make it out?’ demanded Crass, impatiently.

 

Owen hesitated. To his mind the thing appeared very clear and simple.

The causes of poverty were so glaringly evident that he marvelled that

any rational being should fail to perceive them; but at the same time

he found it very difficult to define them himself. He could not think

of words that would convey his thoughts clearly to these others who

seemed so hostile and unwilling to understand, and who appeared to

have made up their minds to oppose and reject whatever he said. They

did not know what were the causes of poverty and apparently they did

not WANT to know.

 

`Well, I’ll try to show you one of the causes,’ he said nervously at

last.

 

He picked up a piece of charred wood that had fallen from the fire and

knelt down and began to draw upon the floor. Most of the others

regarded him, with looks in which an indulgent, contemptuous kind of

interest mingled with an air of superiority and patronage. There was

no doubt, they thought, that Owen was a clever sort of chap: his work

proved that: but he was certainly a little bit mad.

 

By this time Owen had drawn a circle about two feet in diameter.

Inside he had drawn two squares, one much larger than the other.

These two squares he filled in solid black with the charcoal.

 

`Wot’s it all about?’ asked Crass with a sneer.

 

`Why, can’t you see?’ said Philpot with a wink. `‘E’s goin’ to do

some conjurin’! In a minit ‘e’ll make something pass out o’ one o’

them squares into the other and no one won’t see ‘ow it’s done.’

 

When he had finished drawing, Owen remained for a few minutes

awkwardly silent, oppressed by the anticipation of ridicule and a

sense of his inability to put his thoughts into plain language. He

began to wish that he had not undertaken this task. At last, with an

effort, he began to speak in a halting, nervous way:

 

…….

… …

.. ..

. ### .

. ### .

. .

. ############### .

. ############### .

. ############### .

. ############### .

. ############### .

. ############### .

. .

.. ..

… …

………

 

`This circle - or rather the space inside the circle - is supposed to

represent England.’

 

`Well, I never knowed it was round before,’ jeered Crass. `I’ve heard

as the WORLD is round -‘

 

`I never said it was the shape - I said it was supposed to REPRESENT

England.’

 

`Oh, I see. I thought we’d very soon begin supposin’.’

 

`The two black squares,’ continued Owen, `represent the people who

live in the country. The small square represents a few thousand

people. The large square stands for the remainder - about forty

millions - that is, the majority.’

 

`We ain’t sich bloody fools as to think that the largest number is the

minority,’ interrupted Crass.

 

`The greater number of the people represented by the large black