Books: The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

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`Yes, that's enough,' said Harlow impatiently; `but you gets value for
yer money: you can't expect to get a 'ouse for nothing.'

`Suppose we admits as it's wrong, just for the sake of argyment,' said
Crass in a jeering tone. `Wot then? Wot about it? 'Ow's it agoin'
to be altered.'

`Yes!' cried Harlow triumphantly. `That's the bloody question! 'Ow's
it goin' to be altered? It can't be done!'

There was a general murmur of satisfaction. Nearly everyone seemed
very pleased to think that the existing state of things could not
possibly be altered.

`Whether it can be altered or not, whether it's right or wrong,
landlordism is one of the causes of poverty,' Owen repeated. `Poverty
is not caused by men and women getting married; it's not caused by
machinery; it's not caused by "over-production"; it's not caused by
drink or laziness; and it's not caused by "over-population". It's
caused by Private Monopoly. That is the present system. They have
monopolized everything that it is possible to monopolize; they have
got the whole earth, the minerals in the earth and the streams that
water the earth. The only reason they have not monopolized the
daylight and the air is that it is not possible to do it. If it were
possible to construct huge gasometers and to draw together and
compress within them the whole of the atmosphere, it would have been
done long ago, and we should have been compelled to work for them in
order to get money to buy air to breathe. And if that seemingly
impossible thing were accomplished tomorrow, you would see thousands
of people dying for want of air - or of the money to buy it - even as
now thousands are dying for want of the other necessities of life.
You would see people going about gasping for breath, and telling each
other that the likes of them could not expect to have air to breathe
unless the had the money to pay for it. Most of you here, for
instance, would think and say so. Even as you think at present that
it's right for so few people to own the Earth, the Minerals and the
Water, which are all just as necessary as is the air. In exactly the
same spirit as you now say: "It's Their Land," "It's Their Water,"
"It's Their Coal," "It's Their Iron," so you would say "It's Their
Air," "These are their gasometers, and what right have the likes of us
to expect them to allow us to breathe for nothing?" And even while he
is doing this the air monopolist will be preaching sermons on the
Brotherhood of Man; he will be dispensing advice on "Christian Duty"
in the Sunday magazines; he will give utterance to numerous more or
less moral maxims for the guidance of the young. And meantime, all
around, people will be dying for want of some of the air that he will
have bottled up in his gasometers. And when you are all dragging out
a miserable existence, gasping for breath or dying for want of air, if
one of your number suggests smashing a hole in the side of one of th
gasometers, you will all fall upon him in the name of law and order,
and after doing your best to tear him limb from limb, you'll drag him,
covered with blood, in triumph to the nearest Police Station and
deliver him up to "justice" in the hope of being given a few
half-pounds of air for your trouble.'

`I suppose you think the landlords ought to let people live in their
'ouses for nothing?' said Crass, breaking the silence that followed.

`Certainly,' remarked Harlow, pretending to be suddenly converted to
Owen's views, `I reckon the landlord ought to pay the rent to the
tenant!'

`Of course, Landlordism is not the only cause,' said Owen, ignoring
these remarks. ` The wonderful system fosters a great many others.
Employers of labour, for instance, are as great a cause of poverty as
landlords are.'

This extraordinary statement was received with astonished silence.

`Do you mean to say that if I'm out of work and a master gives me a
job, that 'e's doin' me a injury?' said Crass at length.

`No, of course not,' replied Owen.

`Well, what the bloody 'ell DO yer mean, then?'

`I mean this: supposing that the owner of a house wishes to have it
repainted. What does he usually do?'

`As a rule, 'e goes to three or four master painters and asks 'em to
give 'im a price for the job.'

`Yes; and those master painters are so eager to get the work that they
cut the price down to what they think is the lowest possible point,'
answered Owen, `and the lowest usually gets the job. The successful
tenderer has usually cut the price so fine that to make it pay he has
to scamp the work, pay low wages, and drive and sweat the men whom he
employs. He wants them to do two days' work for one day's pay. The
result is that a job which - if it were done properly - would employ
say twenty men for two months, is rushed and scamped in half that time
with half that number of men.

`This means that - in one such case as this - ten men are deprived of
one month's employment; and ten other men are deprived of two months'
employment; and all because the employers have been cutting each
other's throats to get the work.'

`And we can't 'elp ourselves, you nor me either,' said Harlow.
`Supposing one of us on this job was to make up 'is mind not to tear
into it like we do, but just keep on steady and do a fair day's work:
wot would 'appen?'

No one answered; but the same thought was in everyone's mind. Such a
one would be quickly marked by Hunter; and even if the latter failed
to notice it would not be long before Crass reported his conduct.

`We can't 'elp ourselves,' said Easton, gloomily. `If one man won't
do it there's twenty others ready to take 'is place.'

`We could help ourselves to a certain extent if we would stand by each
other. If, for instance, we all belonged to the Society,' said Owen.

`I don't believe in the Society,' observed Crass. `I can't see as
it's right that a inferior man should 'ave the same wages as me.'

`They're a drunken lot of beer-swillers,' remarked Slyme. `That's why
they always 'as their meetings in public 'ouses.'

Harlow made no comment on this question. He had at one time belonged
to the Union and he was rather ashamed of having fallen away from it.

`Wot good 'as the Society ever done 'ere?' said Easton. `None that I
ever 'eard of.'

`It might be able to do some good if most of us belonged to it; but
after all, that's another matter. Whether we could help ourselves or
not, the fact remains that we don't. But you must admit that this
competition of the employers is one of the causes of unemployment and
poverty, because it's not only in our line - exactly the same thing
happens in every other trade and industry. Competing employers are
the upper and nether millstones which grind the workers between them.'

`I suppose you think there oughtn't to be no employers at all?'
sneered Crass. `Or p'raps you think the masters ought to do all the
bloody work theirselves, and give us the money?'

`I don't see 'ow its goin' to be altered,' remarked Harlow. `There
MUST be masters, and SOMEONE 'as to take charge of the work and do the
thinkin'.'

`Whether it can be altered or not,' said Owen, `Landlordism and
Competing Employers are two of the causes of poverty. But of course
they're only a small part of the system which produces luxury,
refinement and culture for a few, and condemns the majority to a
lifelong struggle with adversity, and many thousands to degradation,
hunger and rags. This is the system you all uphold and defend,
although you don't mind admitting that it has made the world into a
hell.'

Crass slowly drew the Obscurer cutting from his waistcoat pocket, but
after a moment's thought he replaced it, deciding to defer its
production till a more suitable occasion.

`But you 'aven't told us yet 'ow you makes out that money causes
poverty,' cried Harlow, winking at the others. `That's what I'M
anxious to 'ear about!'

`So am I,' remarked the man behind the moat. `I was just wondering
whether I 'adn't better tell ole Misery that I don't want no wages
this week.'

`I think I'll tell 'im on Saterday to keep MY money and get 'imself a
few drinks with it,' said Philpot. `It might cheer 'im up a bit and
make 'im a little more sociable and friendly like.'

`Money IS the principal cause of poverty,' said Owen.

`'Ow do yer make it out?' cried Sawkins.

But their curiosity had to remain unsatisfied for the time being
because Crass announced that it was `just on it'.

Chapter 16

True Freedom

About three o'clock that afternoon, Rushton suddenly appeared and
began walking silently about the house, and listening outside the
doors of rooms where the hands were working. He did not succeed in
catching anyone idling or smoking or talking. The nearest approach to
what the men called `a capture' that he made was, as he stood outside
the door of one of the upper rooms in which Philpot and Harlow were
working, he heard them singing one of Sankey's hymns - `Work! for the
night is coming'. He listened to two verses and several repetitions
of the chorus. Being a `Christian', he could scarcely object to this,
especially as by peeping through the partly open door he could see
that they were suiting the action to the word. When he went into the
room they glanced around to see who it was, and stopped singing.
Rushton did not speak, but stood in the middle of the floor, silently
watching them as they worked, for about a quarter of an hour. Then,
without having uttered a syllable, he turned and went out.

They heard him softly descend the stairs, and Harlow, turning to
Philpot said in a hoarse whisper:

`What do you think of the b--r, standing there watchin' us like that,
as if we was a couple of bloody convicts? If it wasn't that I've got
someone else beside myself to think of, I would 'ave sloshed the
bloody sod in the mouth with this pound brush!'

`Yes; it does make yer feel like that, mate,' replied Philpot, `but of
course we mustn't give way to it.'

`Several times,' continued Harlow, who was livid with anger, `I was on
the point of turnin' round and sayin' to 'im, "What the bloody 'ell do
you mean by standin' there and watchin' me, you bloody, psalm-singin'
swine?" It took me all my time to keep it in, I can tell you.'

Meanwhile, Rushton was still going about the house, occasionally
standing and watching the other men in the same manner as he had
watched Philpot and Harlow.

None of the men looked round from their work or spoke either to
Rushton or to each other. The only sounds heard were the noises made
by the saws and hammers of the carpenters who were fixing the frieze
rails and dado rails or repairing parts of the woodwork in some of the
rooms.

Crass placed himself in Rushton's way several times with the hope of
being spoken to, but beyond curtly acknowledging the `foreman's'
servile `Good hafternoon, sir,' the master took no notice of him.

After about an hour spent in this manner Rushton went away, but as no
one say him go, it was not until some considerable time after his
departure that they knew that he was gone.

Owen was secretly very disappointed. `I thought he had come to tell
me about the drawing-room,' he said to himself, `but I suppose it's
not decided yet.'

Just as the `hands' were beginning to breathe freely again, Misery
arrived, carrying some rolled-up papers in his hand. He also flitted
silently from one room to another, peering round corners and listening
at doors in the hope of seeing or hearing something which would give
him an excuse for making an example of someone. Disappointed in this,
he presently crawled upstairs to the room where Owen was working and,
handing to him the roll of papers he had been carrying, said:

`Mr Sweater had decided to 'ave this work done, so you can start on it
as soon as you like.'

It is impossible to describe, without appearing to exaggerate, the
emotions experienced by Owen as he heard this announcement. For one
thing it meant that the work at this house would last longer than it
would otherwise have done; and it also meant that he would be paid for
the extra time he had spent on the drawings, besides having his wages
increased - for he was always paid an extra penny an hour when engaged
on special work, such as graining or sign-writing or work of the
present kind. But these considerations did not occur to him at the
moment at all, for to him it meant much more. Since his first
conversation on the subject with Rushton he had though of little else
than this work.

In a sense he had been DOING it ever since. He had thought and
planned and altered the details of the work repeatedly. The colours
for the different parts had been selected and rejected and re-selected
over and over again. A keen desire to do the work had grown within
him, but he had scarcely allowed himself to hope that it would be done
at all. His face flushed slightly as he took the drawings from
Hunter.

`You can make a start on it tomorrow morning,' continued that
gentleman. `I'll tell Crass to send someone else up 'ere to finish
this room.'

`I shan't be able to commence tomorrow, because the ceiling and walls
will have to be painted first.'

`Yes: I know. You and Easton can do that. One coat tomorrow, another
on Friday and the third on Saturday - that is, unless you can make it
do with two coats. Even if it has to be the three, you will be able
to go on with your decoratin' on Monday.'

`I won't be able to start on Monday, because I shall have to make some
working drawings first.'

`Workin' drorins!' ejaculated Misery with a puzzled expression. `Wot
workin' drorins? You've got them, ain't yer?' pointing to the roll of
papers.

`Yes: but as the same ornaments are repeated several times, I shall
have to make a number of full-sized drawings, with perforated
outlines, to transfer the design to the walls,' said Owen, and he
proceeded to laboriously explain the processes.

Nimrod looked at him suspiciously. `Is all that really necessary?' he
asked. `Couldn't you just copy it on the wall, free-hand?'

`No; that wouldn't do. It would take much longer that way.'

This consideration appealed to Misery.

`Ah, well,' he sighed. `I s'pose you'll 'ave to do it the way you
said; but for goodness sake don't spend too much time over it, because
we've took it very cheap. We only took it on so as you could 'ave a
job, not that we expect to make any profit out of it.'

`And I shall have to cut some stencils, so I shall need several sheets
of cartridge paper.'

Upon hearing of this addition expense, Misery's long visage appeared
to become several inches longer; but after a moment's thought he
brightened up.

`I'll tell you what!' he exclaimed with a cunning leer, `there's lots
of odd rolls of wallpaper down at the shop. Couldn't you manage with
some of that?'

`I'm afraid it wouldn't do,' replied Owen doubtfully, `but I'll have a
look at it and if possible I'll use it.'

`Yes, do!' said Misery, pleased at the thought of saving something.
`Call at the shop on your way home tonight, and we'll see what we can
find. 'Ow long do you think it'll take you to make the drorins and
the stencils?'

`Well, today's Thursday. If you let someone else help Easton to get
the room ready, I think I can get them done in time to bring them with
me on Monday morning.'

`Wot do yer mean, "bring them with you"?' demanded Nimrod.

`I shall have to do them at home, you know.'

`Do 'em at 'ome! Why can't you do 'em 'ere?'

`Well, there's no table, for one thing.'

`Oh, but we can soon fit you out with a table. You can 'ave a pair of
paperhanger's tressels and boards for that matter.'

`I have a lot of sketches and things at home that I couldn't very well
bring here,' said Owen.

Misery argued about it for a long time, insisting that the drawings
should be made either on the `job' or at the paint-shop down at the
yard. How, he asked, was be to know at what hour Owen commenced or
left off working, if the latter did them at home?

`I shan't charge any more time than I really work,' replied Owen. `I
can't possibly do them here or at the paint-shop. I know I should
only make a mess of them under such conditions.'

`Well, I s'pose you'll 'ave to 'ave your own way,' said Misery,
dolefully. `I'll let Harlow help Easton paint the room out, so as you
can get your stencils and things ready. But for Gord's sake get 'em
done as quick as you can. If you could manage to get done by Friday
and come down and help Easton on Saturday, it would be so much the
better. And when you do get a start on the decoratin', I shouldn't
take too much care over it, you know, if I was you, because we 'ad to
take the job for next to nothing or Mr Sweater would never 'ave 'ad it
done at all!'

Nimrod now began to crawl about the house, snarling and grumbling at
everyone.

`Now then, you chaps. Rouse yourselves!' he bellowed, 'you seem to
think this is a 'orspital. If some of you don't make a better show
than this, I'll 'ave to 'ave a Alteration! There's plenty of chaps
walkin' about doin' nothin' who'll be only too glad of a job!'

He went into the scullery, where Crass was mixing some colour.

`Look 'ere, Crass!' he said. `I'm not at all satisfied with the way
you're gettin' on with the work. You must push the chaps a bit more
than you're doin'. There's not enough being done, by a long way. We
shall lose money over this job before we're finished!'

Crass - whose fat face had turned a ghastly green with fright -
mumbled something about getting on with it as fast as he could.

`Well, you'll 'ave to make 'em move a bit quicker than this!' Misery
howled, 'or there'll 'ave to be a ALTERATION!'

By an `alteration' Crass understood that he might get the sack, or
that someone else might be put in charge of the job, and that would of
course reduce him to the ranks and do away with his chance of being
kept on longer than the others. He determined to try to ingratiate
himself with Hunter and appease his wrath by sacrificing someone else.
He glanced cautiously into the kitchen and up the passage and then,
lowering his voice, he said:

`They all shapes pretty well, except Newman. I would 'ave told you
about 'im before, but I thought I'd give 'im a fair chance. I've
spoke to 'im several times myself about not doin' enough, but it don't
seem to make no difference.'

`I've 'ad me eye on 'im meself for some time,' replied Nimrod in the
same tone. `Anybody would think the work was goin' to be sent to a
Exhibition, the way 'e messes about with it, rubbing it with
glasspaper and stopping up every little crack! I can't understand
where 'e gets all the glasspaper FROM'

`'E brings it 'isself!' said Crass hoarsely. `I know for a fact that
'e bought two 'a'penny sheets of it, last week out of 'is own money!'

`Oh, 'e did, did 'e?' snarled Misery. `I'll give 'im glasspaper!
I'll 'ave a Alteration!'

He went into the hall, where he remained alone for a considerable
time, brooding. At last, with the manner of one who has resolved on a
certain course of action, he turned and entered the room where Philpot
and Harlow were working.

`You both get sevenpence an hour, don't you?' he said.

They both replied to the affirmative.

`I've never worked under price yet,' added Harlow.

`Nor me neither,' observed Philpot.

`Well, of course you can please yourselves,' Hunter continued, `but
after this week we've decided not to pay more than six and a half.
Things is cut so fine nowadays that we can't afford to go on payin'
sevenpence any longer. You can work up till tomorrow night on the old
terms, but if you're not willin' to accept six and a half you needn't
come on Saturday morning. Please yourselves. Take it or leave it.'

Harlow and Philpot were both too much astonished to say anything in
reply to this cheerful announcement, and Hunter, with the final
remark, `You can think it over,' left them and went to deliver the
same ultimatum to all the other full-price men, who took it in the
same way as Philpot and Harlow had done. Crass and Owen were the
only two whose wages were not reduced.

It will be remembered that Newman was one of those who were already
working for the reduced rate. Misery found him alone in one of the
upper rooms, to which he was giving the final coat. He was at his old
tricks. The woodwork of the cupboard be was doing was in a rather
damaged condition, and he was facing up the dents with white-lead
putty before painting it. He knew quite well that Hunter objected to
any but very large holes or cracks being stopped, and yet somehow or
other he could not scamp the work to the extent that he was ordered
to; and so, almost by stealth, he was in the habit of doing it - not
properly but as well as he dared. He even went to the length of
occasionally buying a few sheets of glasspaper with his own money, as
Crass had told Hunter. When the latter came into the room he stood
with a sneer on his face, watching Newman for about five minutes
before he spoke. The workman became very nervous and awkward under
this scrutiny.

`You can make out yer time-sheet and come to the office for yer money
at five o'clock,' said Nimrod at last. `We shan't require your
valuable services no more after tonight.'

Newman went white.

`Why, what's wrong?' said he. `What have I done?'

`Oh, it's not wot you've DONE,' replied Misery. `It's wot you've not
done. That's wot's wrong! You've not done enough, that's all!' And
without further parley he turned and went out.

Newman stood in the darkening room feeling as if his heart had turned
to lead. There rose before his mind the picture of his home and
family. He could see them as they were at this very moment, the wife
probably just beginning to prepare the evening meal, and the children
setting the cups and saucers and other things on the kitchen table - a
noisy work, enlivened with many a frolic and childish dispute. Even
the two-year-old baby insisted on helping, although she always put
everything in the wrong place and made all sorts of funny mistakes.
They had all been so happy lately because they knew that he had work
that would last till nearly Christmas - if not longer. And now this
had happened - to plunge them back into the abyss of wretchedness
from which they had so recently escaped. They still owed several
weeks' rent, and were already so much in debt to the baker and the
grocer that it was hopeless to expect any further credit.

`My God!' said Newman, realizing the almost utter hopelessness of the
chance of obtaining another `job' and unconsciously speaking aloud.
`My God! How can I tell them? What WILL become of us?'

Having accomplished the objects of his visit, Hunter shortly
afterwards departed, possibly congratulating himself that he had not
been hiding his light under a bushel, but that he had set it upon a
candlestick and given light unto all that were within that house.

As soon as they knew that he was gone, the men began to gather into
little groups, but in a little while they nearly all found themselves
in the kitchen, discussing the reduction. Sawkins and the other
`lightweights' remained at their work. Some of them got only
fourpence halfpenny - Sawkins was paid fivepence - so none of these
were affected by the change. The other two fresh hands - the
journeymen - joined the crowd in the kitchen, being anxious to conceal
the fact that they had agreed to accept the reduced rate before being
`taken on'. Owen also was there, having heard the news hem Philpot.

There was a lot of furious talk. At first several of them spoke of
`chucking up', at once; but others were more prudent, for they knew
that if they did leave there were dozens of others who would be eager
to take their places.

`After all, you know,' said Slyme, who had - stowed away somewhere at
the back of his head - an idea of presently starting business on his
own account: he was only waiting until he had saved enough money,
`after all, there's something in what 'Unter says. It's very 'ard to
get a fair price for work nowadays. Things IS cut very fine.'

`Yes! We know all about that!' shouted Harlow. `And who the bloody
'ell is it cuts 'em? Why, sich b--rs as 'Unter and Rushton! If this
firm 'adn't cut this job so fine, some other firm would 'ave 'ad it
for more money. Rushton's cuttin' it fine didn't MAKE this job, did
it? It would 'ave been done just the same if they 'adn't tendered for
it at all! The only difference is that we should 'ave been workin'
for some other master.'

`I don't believe the bloody job's cut fine at all!' said Philpot.

`Rushton is a pal of Sweater's and they're both members of the Town
Council.'

`That may be,' replied Slyme; 'but all the same I believe Sweater got
several other prices besides Rushton's - friend or no friend; and you
can't blame 'im: it's only business. But pr'aps Rushton got the
preference - Sweater may 'ave told 'im the others' prices.'

`Yes, and a bloody fine lot of prices they was, too, if the truth was
known!' said Bundy. "There was six other firms after this job to my
knowledge - Pushem and Sloggem, Bluffum and Doemdown, Dodger and
Scampit, Snatcham and Graball, Smeeriton and Leavit, Makehaste and
Sloggitt, and Gord only knows 'ow many more.'