Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖
- Author: Robert Tressell
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`I know that; and of course you think it’s right that the whole
country should belong to a few people -‘
`I must call the lecturer to horder,’ interrupted Philpot. `The land
question is not before the meeting at present.’
`You talk about the producers being robbed of most of the value of
what they produce,’ said Harlow, `but you must remember that it ain’t
all produced by hand labour. What about the things what’s made by
machinery?’
`The machines themselves were made by the workers,’ returned Owen,
`but of course they do not belong to the workers, who have been robbed
of them by means of the Money Trick.’
`But who invented all the machinery?’ cried Crass.
`That’s more than you or I or anyone else can say,’ returned Owen,
`but it certainly wasn’t the wealthy loafer class, or the landlords,
or the employers. Most of the men who invented the machinery lived
and died unknown, in poverty and often in actual want. The inventors
too were robbed by the exploiter-of-labour class. There are no men
living at present who can justly claim to have invented the machinery
that exists today. The most they can truthfully say is that they have
added to or improved upon the ideas of those who lived and worked
before them. Even Watt and Stevenson merely improved upon steam
engines and locomotives already existing. Your question has really
nothing to do with the subject we are discussing: we are only trying
to find out why the majority of people have to go short of the
benefits of civilization. One of the causes is - the majority of the
population are engaged in work that does not produce those things; and
most of what IS produced is appropriated and wasted by those who have
no right to it.
`The workers produce Everything! If you walk through the streets of a
town or a city, and look around, Everything that you can see -
Factories, Machinery, Houses, Railways, Tramways, Canals, Furniture,
Clothing, Food and the very road or pavement you stand upon were all
made by the working class, who spend all their wages in buying back
only a very small part of the things they produce. Therefore what
remains in the possession of their masters represents the difference
between the value of the work done and the wages paid for doing it.
This systematic robbery has been going on for generations, the value
of the accumulated loot is enormous, and all of it, all the wealth at
present in the possession of the rich, is rightly the property of the
working class - it has been stolen from them by means of the Money
Trick.’ …
For some moments an oppressive silence prevailed. The men stared with
puzzled, uncomfortable looks alternately at each other and at the
drawings on the wall. They were compelled to do a little thinking on
their own account, and it was a process to which they were
unaccustomed. In their infancy they had been taught to distrust their
own intelligence and to leave “thinking’ to their `pastors’ and
masters and to their `betters’ generally. All their lives they had
been true to this teaching, they had always had blind, unreasoning
faith in the wisdom and humanity of their pastors and masters. That
was the reason why they and their children had been all their lives on
the verge of starvation and nakedness, whilst their `betters’ - who
did nothing but the thinking - went clothed in purple and fine linen
and fared sumptuously every day.
Several men had risen from their seats and were attentively studying
the diagrams Owen had drawn on the wall; and nearly all the others
were making the same mental efforts - they were trying to think of
something to say in defence of those who robbed them of the fruits of
their toil.
`I don’t see no bloody sense in always runnin’ down the rich,’ said
Harlow at last. `There’s always been rich and poor in the world and
there always will be.’
`Of course,’ said Slyme. `It says in the Bible that the poor shall
always be with us.’
`What the bloody ‘ell kind of system do you think we ought to ‘ave?’
demanded Crass. `If everything’s wrong, ‘ow’s it goin’ to be
altered?’
At this, everybody brightened up again, and exchanged looks of
satisfaction and relief. Of course! It wasn’t necessary to think
about these things at all! Nothing could ever be altered: it had
always been more or less the same, and it always would be.
`It seems to me that you all HOPE it is impossible to alter it,’ said
Owen. `Without trying to find out whether it could be done, you
persuade yourselves that it is impossible, and then, instead of being
sorry, you’re glad!’
Some of them laughed in a silly, half-ashamed way.
`How do YOU reckon it could be altered?’ said Harlow.
`The way to alter it is, first to enlighten the people as to the real
cause of their sufferings, and then -‘
`Well,’ interrupted Crass, with a self-satisfied chuckle, `it’ll take
a better bloody man than you to enlighten ME!’
`I don’t want to be henlightened into Darkness!’ said Slyme piously.
`But what sort of System do you propose, then?’ repeated Harlow.
`After you’ve got ‘em all enlightened - if you don’t believe in
sharing out all the money equal, how ARE you goin’ to alter it?’
`I don’t know ‘ow ‘e’s goin’ to alter it,’ sneered Crass, looking at
his watch and standing up, `but I do know what the time is - two
minits past one!’
`The next lecture,’ said Philpot, addressing the meeting as they all
prepared to return to work, `the next lecture will be postponded till
tomorrer at the usual time, when it will be my painful dooty to call
upon Mr Owen to give ‘is well-known and most hobnoxious address
entitled “Work and how to avoid it.” Hall them as wants to be
henlightened kindly attend.’
`Or hall them as don’t get the sack tonight,’ remarked Easton grimly.
The Slaughter
During the afternoon, Rushton and Sweater visited the house, the
latter having an appointment to meet there a gardener to whom be
wished to give instructions concerning the laying out of the grounds,
which had been torn up for the purpose of putting in the new drains.
Sweater had already arranged with the head gardener of the public park
to steal some of the best plants from that place and have them sent up
to `The Cave’. These plants had been arriving in small lots for about
a week. They must have been brought there either in the evening after
the men left off or very early in the morning before they came. The
two gentlemen remained at the house for about half an hour and as they
went away the mournful sound of the Town Hall bell - which was always
tolled to summon meetings of the Council - was heard in the distance,
and the hands remarked to each other that another robbery was about to
be perpetrated.
Hunter did not come to the job again that day: he had been sent by
Rushton to price some work for which the firm was going to tender an
estimate. There was only one person who felt any regret at his
absence, and that was Mrs White - Bert’s mother, who had been working
at `The Cave’ for several days, scrubbing the floors. As a rule,
Hunter paid her wages every night, and on this occasion she happened
to need the money even more than usual. As leaving off time drew
near, she mentioned the matter to Crass, who advised her to call at
the office on her way home and ask the young lady clerk for the money.
As Hunter did not appear, she followed the foreman’s advice.
When she reached the shop Rushton was just coming out. She explained
to him what she wanted and he instructed Mr Budd to tell Miss Wade to
pay her. The shopman accordingly escorted her to the office at the
back of the shop, and the young lady book-keeper - after referring to
former entries to make quite certain of the amount, paid her the sum
that Hunter had represented as her wages, the same amount that Miss
Wade had on the previous occasions given him to pay the charwoman.
When Mrs White got outside she found that she held in her hand half a
crown instead of the two shillings she usually received from Mr
Hunter. At first she felt inclined to take it back, but after some
hesitation she thought it better to wait until she saw Hunter, when
she could tell him about it; but the next morning when she saw the
disciple at `The Cave’ he broached the subject first, and told her
that Miss Wade had made a mistake. And that evening when he paid her,
he deducted the sixpence from the usual two shillings.
The lecture announced by Philpot was not delivered. Anxiously
awaiting the impending slaughter the men kept tearing into it as
usual, for they generally keep working in the usual way, each one
trying to outdo the others so as not to lose his chance of being one
of the lucky one …
Misery now went round and informed all the men with the exception of
Crass, Owen, Slyme and Sawkins - that they would have to stand off
that night. He told them that the firm had several jobs in view -
work they had tendered for and hoped to get, and said they could look
round after Christmas and he might - possibly - be able to start some
of them again. They would be paid at the office tomorrow - Saturday -
at one o’clock as usual, but if any of them wished they could have
their money tonight. The men thanked him, and most of them said they
would come for their wages at the usual pay-time, and would call round
as he suggested, after the holidays, to see if there was anything to
do.
In all, fifteen men - including Philpot, Harlow, Easton and Ned
Dawson, were to `stand off’ that night. They took their dismissal
stolidly, without any remark, some of them even with an affectation of
indifference, but there were few attempts at conversation afterwards.
The little work that remained to be done they did in silence, every
man oppressed by the same terror - the dread of the impending want,
the privation and unhappiness that they knew they and their families
would have to suffer during the next few months.
Bundy and his mate Dawson were working in the kitchen fixing the new
range in place of the old one which they had taken out. They had been
engaged on this job all day, and their hands and faces and clothes
were covered with soot, which they had also contrived to smear and dab
all over the surfaces of the doors and other woodwork in the room,
much to the indignation of Crass and Slyme, who had to wash it all off
before they could put on the final coat of paint.
`You can’t help makin’ a little mess on a job of this kind, you know,’
remarked Bundy, as he was giving the finishing touches to the work,
making good the broken parts of the wall with cement, whilst his mate
was clearing away the debris.
`Yes; but there’s no need to claw ‘old of the bloody doors every time
you goes in and out,’ snarled Crass, `and you could ‘ave put yer tools
on the floor instead of makin’ a bench of the dresser.’
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