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

his right hand,

open, palm down, with the fingers close together, and said:

 

`Let us pray.’

 

With much shuffling of feet everyone knelt down. Hunter’s lanky form

was distributed over a very large area; his body lay along one of the

benches, his legs and feet sprawled over the floor, and his huge hands

clasped the sides of the seat. His eyes were tightly closed and an

expression of the most intense misery pervaded his long face.

 

Mrs Starvem, being so fat that she knew if she once knelt down she

would never be able to get up again, compromised by sitting on the

extreme edge of her chair, resting her elbows on the back of the seat

in front of her, and burying her face in her hands. It was a very

large face, but her hands were capacious enough to receive it.

 

In a seat at the back of the hall knelt a pale-faced, weary-looking

little woman about thirty-six years of age, very shabbily dressed, who

had come in during the singing. This was Mrs White, the caretaker,

Bert White’s mother. When her husband died, the committee of the

Chapel, out of charity, gave her this work, for which they paid her

six shillings a week. Of course, they could not offer her full

employment; the idea was that she could get other work as well,

charing and things of that kind, and do the Chapel work in between.

There wasn’t much to do: just the heating furnace to light when

necessary; the Chapel, committee rooms, classrooms and Sunday School

to sweep and scrub out occasionally; the hymn-books to collect, etc.

Whenever they had a tea meeting - which was on an average about twice

a week - there were the trestle tables to fix up, the chairs to

arrange, the table to set out, and then, supervised by Miss Didlum or

some other lady, the tea to make. There was rather a lot to do on the

days following these functions: the washing up, the tables and chairs

to put away, the floor to sweep, and so on; but the extra work was

supposed to be compensated by the cakes and broken victuals generally

left over from the feast, which were much appreciated as a welcome

change from the bread and dripping or margarine that constituted Mrs

White’s and Bert’s usual fare.

 

There were several advantages attached to the position: the caretaker

became acquainted with the leading members and their wives, some of

who, out of charity, occasionally gave her a day’s work as charwoman,

the wages being on about the same generous scale as those she earned

at the Chapel, sometimes supplemented by a parcel of broken victuals

or some castoff clothing.

 

An evil-minded, worldly or unconverted person might possibly sum up

the matter thus: these people required this work done: they employed

this woman to do it, taking advantage of her poverty to impose upon

her conditions of price and labour that they would not have liked to

endure themselves. Although she worked very hard, early and late, the

money they paid her as wages was insufficient to enable her to provide

herself with the bare necessaries of life. Then her employers, being

good, kind, generous, Christian people, came to the rescue and

bestowed charity, in the form of castoff clothing and broken

victuals.

 

Should any such evil-minded, worldly or unconverted persons happen to

read these lines, it is a sufficient answer to their impious and

malicious criticisms to say that no such thoughts ever entered the

simple mind of Mrs White herself: on the contrary, this very afternoon

as she knelt in the Chapel, wearing an old mantle that some years

previously had adorned the obese person of the saintly Mrs Starvem,

her heart was filled with gratitude towards her generous benefactors.

 

During the prayer the door was softly opened: a gentleman in clerical

dress entered on tiptoe and knelt down next to Mr Didlum. He came in

very softly, but all the same most of those present heard him and

lifted their heads or peeped through their fingers to see who it was,

and when they recognized him a sound like a sigh swept through the

hall.

 

At the end of the prayer, amid groans and cries of ‘Amen’, the balloon

slowly descended from the platform, and collapsed into one of the

seats, and everyone rose up from the floor. When all were seated and

the shuffling, coughing and blowing of noses had ceased Mr Didlum

stood up and said:

 

`Before we sing the closin’ ‘ymn, the gentleman hon my left, the Rev.

Mr John Starr, will say a few words.’

 

An expectant murmur rippled through the hall. The ladies lifted their

eyebrows and nodded, smiled and whispered to each other; the gentlemen

assumed various attitudes and expressions; the children were very

quiet. Everyone was in a state of suppressed excitement as John Starr

rose from his seat and, stepping up on to the platform, stood by the

side of the table, facing them.

 

He was about twenty-six years of age, tall and slenderly built. His

clean-cut, intellectual face, with its lofty forehead, and his air of

refinement and culture were in striking contrast to the coarse

appearance of the other adults in the room: the vulgar, ignorant,

uncultivated crowd of profitmongers and hucksters in front of him.

But it was not merely his air of good breeding and the general

comeliness of his exterior that attracted and held one. There was an

indefinable something about him - an atmosphere of gentleness and love

that seemed to radiate from his whole being, almost compelling

confidence and affection from all those with whom he came in contact.

As he stood there facing the others with an inexpressibly winning

smile upon his comely face, it seemed impossible that there could be

any fellowship between him and them.

 

There was nothing in his appearance to give anyone even an inkling of

the truth, which was: that he was there for the purpose of bolstering

up the characters of the despicable crew of sweaters and slave-drivers

who paid his wages.

 

He did not give a very long address this afternoon - only just a Few

Words but they were very precious, original and illuminating. He told

them of certain Thoughts that had occurred to his mind on his way

there that afternoon; and as they listened, Sweater, Rushton, Didlum,

Hunter, and the other disciples exchanged significant looks and

gestures. Was it not magnificent! Such power! Such reasoning! In

fact, as they afterwards modestly admitted to each other, it was so

profound that even they experienced great difficulty in fathoming the

speaker’s meaning.

 

As for the ladies, they were motionless and dumb with admiration.

They sat with flushed faces, shining eyes and palpitating hearts,

looking hungrily at the dear man as he proceeded:

 

`Unfortunately, our time this afternoon does not permit us to dwell at

length upon these Thoughts. Perhaps at some future date we may have

the blessed privilege of so doing; but this afternoon I have been

asked to say a Few Words on another subject. The failing health of

your dear minister has for some time past engaged the anxious

attention of the congregation.’

 

Sympathetic glances were directed towards the interesting invalid; the

ladies murmured, `Poor dear!’ and other expressions of anxious

concern.

 

`Although naturally robust,’ continued Starr, `long, continued

Overwork, the loving solicitude for Others that often prevented him

taking even necessary repose, and a too rigorous devotion to the

practice of Self-denial have at last brought about the inevitable

Breakdown, and rendered a period of Rest absolutely imperative.’

 

The orator paused to take breath, and the silence that ensued was

disturbed only by faint rumblings in the interior of the ascetic

victim of overwork.

 

`With this laudable object,’ proceeded Start, `a Subscription List was

quietly opened about a month ago, and those dear children who had

cards and assisted in the good work of collecting donations will be

pleased to hear that altogether a goodly sum was gathered, but as it

was not quite enough, the committee voted a further amount out of the

General Fund, and at a special meeting held last Friday evening, your

dear Shepherd was presented with an illuminated address, and a purse

of gold sufficient to defray the expenses of a month’s holiday in the

South of France.

 

`Although, of course, he regrets being separated from you even for

such a brief period he feels that in going he is choosing the lesser

of two evils. It is better to go to the South of France for a month

than to continue Working in spite of the warnings of exhausted nature

and perhaps be taken away from you altogether - by Heaven.’

 

`God forbid!’ fervently ejaculated several disciples, and a ghastly

pallor overspread the features of the object of their prayers.

 

`Even as it is there is a certain amount of danger. Let us hope and

pray for the best, but if the worst should happen and he is called

upon to Ascend, there will be some satisfaction in knowing that you

have done what you could to avert the dreadful calamity.’

 

Here, probably as a precaution against the possibility of an

involuntary ascent, a large quantity of gas was permitted to escape

through the safety valve of the balloon.

 

`He sets out on his pilgrimage tomorrow,’ concluded Starr, `and I am

sure he will be followed by the good wishes and prayers of all the

members of his flock.’

 

The reverend gentleman resumed his seat, and almost immediately it

became evident from the oscillations of the balloon that Mr Belcher

was desirous of rising to say a Few Words in acknowledgement, but he

was restrained by the entreaties of those near him, who besought him

not to exhaust himself. He afterwards said that he would not have

been able to say much even if they had permitted him to speak, because

he felt too full.

 

`During the absence of our beloved pastor,’ said Brother Didlum, who

now rose to give out the closing hymn, `his flock will not be left

hentirely without a shepherd, for we ‘ave arranged with Mr Starr to

come and say a Few Words to us hevery Sunday.’

 

From the manner in which they constantly referred to themselves, it

might have been thought that they were a flock of sheep instead of

being what they really were - a pack of wolves.

 

When they heard Brother Didlum’s announcement a murmur of intense

rapture rose from the ladies, and Mr Starr rolled his eyes and smiled

sweetly. Brother Didlum did not mention the details of the

`arrangement’, to have done so at that time would have been most

unseemly, but the following extract from the accounts of the chapel

will not be out of place here: `Paid to Rev. John Starr for Sunday,

Nov. 14 - �4.4.0 per the treasurer.’ It was not a large sum

considering the great services rendered by Mr Starr, but, small as it

was, it is to be feared that many worldly, unconverted persons will

think it was far too much to pay for a Few Words, even such wise words

as Mr John Starr’s admittedly always were. But the Labourer is worthy

of his hire.

 

After the `service’ was over, most of the children, including Charley

and Frankie, remained to get collecting cards. Mr Starr was surrounded

by a crowd of admirers, and a little later, when he rode away with Mr

Belcher and Mr Sweater in the latter’s motor car, the ladies looked

hungrily after that conveyance, listening to the melancholy `pip, pip’

of its hooter and trying to console themselves with the reflection

that they would see him again in a few hours’ time at