Books: The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

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`- all the very best of everything is reserved exclusively for the
enjoyment of the people in divisions one and two, while the workers
subsist on block ornaments, margarine, adulterated tea, mysterious
beer, and are content - only grumbling when they are unable to obtain
even such fare as this.'

Owen paused and a gloomy silence followed, but suddenly Crass
brightened up. He detected a serious flaw in the lecturer's argument.

`You say the people in one and two gets all the best of everything,
but what about the tramps and beggars? You've got them in division
one.'

`Yes, I know. You see, that's the proper place for them. They belong
to a Loafer class. They are no better mentally or morally than any of
the other loafers in that division; neither are they of any more use.
Of course, when we consider them in relation to the amount they
consume of the things produced by others, they are not so harmful as
the other loafers, because they consume comparatively little. But all
the same they are in their right place in that division. All those
people don't get the same share. The section represents not
individuals - but the loafer class.'

`But I thought you said you was goin' to prove that money was the
cause of poverty,' said Easton.

`So it is,' said Owen. `Can't you see that it's money that's caused
all these people to lose sight of the true purpose of labour - the
production of the things we need? All these people are suffering from
the delusion that it doesn't matter what kind of work they do - or
whether they merely do nothing - so long as they get MONEY for doing
it. Under the present extraordinary system, that's the only object
they have in view - to get money. Their ideas are so topsy-turvey
that they regard with contempt those who are engaged in useful work!
With the exception of criminals and the poorer sort of loafers, the
working classes are considered to be the lowest and least worthy in
the community. Those who manage to get money for doing something
other than productive work are considered more worthy of respect on
that account. Those who do nothing themselves, but get money out of
the labour of others, are regarded as being more worthy still! But
the ones who are esteemed most of all and honoured above all the rest,
are those who obtain money for doing absolutely nothing!'

`But I can't see as that proves that money is the cause of poverty,'
said Easton.

`Look here,' said Owen. `The people in number four produce
everything, don't they?'

`Yes; we knows all about that,' interrupted Harlow. `But they gets
paid for it, don't they? They gets their wages.'

`Yes, and what does their wages consist of?' said Owen.

`Why, money, of course,' replied Harlow, impatiently.

And what do they do with their money when they get it? Do they eat
it, or drink it, or wear it?'

At this apparently absurd question several of those who had hitherto
been attentive listeners laughed derisively; it was really very
difficult to listen patiently to such nonsense.

`Of course they don't,' answered Harlow scornfully. `They buy the
things they want with it.'

`Do you think that most of them manage to save a part of their wages -
put it away in the bank.'

`Well, I can speak for meself,' replied Harlow amid laughter. `It
takes me all my bloody time to pay my rent and other expenses and to
keep my little lot in shoe leather, and it's dam little I spend on
beer; p'r'aps a tanner or a bob a week at the most.'

`A single man can save money if he likes,' said Slyme.

`I'm not speaking of single men,' replied Owen. `I'm referring to
those who live natural lives.'

`What about all the money what's in the Post Office Savings Bank, and
Building and Friendly Societies?' said Crass.

`A very large part of that belongs to people who are in business, or
who have some other source of income than their own wages. There are
some exceptionally fortunate workers who happen to have good
situations and higher wages than the ordinary run of workmen. Then
there are some who are so placed - by letting lodgings, for instance -
that they are able to live rent free. Others whose wives go out to
work; and others again who have exceptional jobs and work a lot of
overtime - but these are all exceptional cases.'

`I say as no married workin' man can save any money at all!' shouted
Harlow, 'not unless 'e goes without some of even the few things we are
able to get - and makes 'is wife and kids go without as well.'

`'Ear, 'ear,' said everybody except Crass and Slyme, who were both
thrifty working men, and each of them had some money saved in one or
other of the institutions mentioned.

`Then that means,' said Owen, `that means that the wages the people in
division four receive is not equivalent to the work they do.'

`Wotcher mean, equivalent?' cried Crass. `Why the 'ell don't yer talk
plain English without draggin' in a lot of long words wot nobody can't
understand?'

`I mean this,' replied Owen, speaking very slowly. `Everything is
produced by the people in number four. In return for their work they
are given - Money, and the things they have made become the property
of the people who do nothing. Then, as the money is of no use, the
workers go to shops and give it away in exchange for some of the
things they themselves have made. They spend - or give back - ALL
their wages; but as the money they got as wages is not equal in value
to the things they produced, they find that they are only able to buy
back a VERY SMALL PART. So you see that these little discs of metal -
this Money - is a device for enabling those who do not work to rob the
workers of the greater part of the fruits of their toil.'

The silence that ensued was broken by Crass.

`It sounds very pretty,' he sneered, `but I can't make no 'ead or tail
of it, meself.'

`Look here!' cried Owen. `The producing class - these people in
number four are supposed to be paid for their work. Their wages are
supposed to be equal in value to their work. But it's not so. If it
were, by spending all their wages, the producing class would be able
to buy back All they had produced.'

Owen ceased speaking and silence once more ensued. No one gave any
sign of understanding, or of agreeing or of disagreeing with what he
had said. Their attitude was strictly neutral. Barrington's pipe had
gone out during the argument. He relit it from the fire with a piece
of twisted paper.

`If their wages were really equal in value to the product of their
labour,' Owen repeated, `they would be able to buy back not a small
part - but the Whole.' ...

At this, a remark from Bundy caused a shout of laughter, and when
Wantley added point to the joke by making a sound like the discharge
of a pistol the merriment increased tenfold.

`Well, that's done it,' remarked Easton, as he got up and opened the
window.

`It's about time you was buried, if the smell's anything to go by,'
said Harlow, addressing Wantley, who laughed and appeared to think he
had distinguished himself.

`But even if we include the whole of the working classes,' continued
Owen, `that is, the people in number three as well as those in number
four, we find that their combined wages are insufficient to buy the
things made by the producers. The total value of the wealth produced
in this country during the last year was £1,800,000,000, and the total
amount paid in wages during the same period was only £600,000,000. In
other words, by means of the Money Trick, the workers were robbed of
two-thirds of the value of their labour. All the people in numbers
three and four are working and suffering and starving and fighting in
order that the rich people in numbers one and two may live in luxury,
and do nothing. These are the wretches who cause poverty: they not
only devour or waste or hoard the things made by the worker, but as
soon as their own wants are supplied - they compel the workers to
cease working and prevent them producing the things they need. Most
of these people!' cried Owen, his usually pale face flushing red and
his eyes shining with sudden anger, `most of these people do not
deserve to be called human beings at all! They're devils! They know
that whilst they are indulging in pleasures of every kind - all around
them men and women and little children are existing in want or dying
of hunger.'

The silence which followed was at length broken by Harlow:

`You say the workers is entitled to all they produce, but you forget
there's the raw materials to pay for. They don't make them, you
know.'

`Of course the workers don't create the raw materials,' replied Owen.
`But I am not aware that the capitalists or the landlords do so
either. The raw materials exist in abundance in and on the earth, but
they are of no use until labour has been applied to them.'

`But then, you see, the earth belongs to the landlords!' cried Crass,
unguardedly.

`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.

Chapter 26

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.'

`You can 'ave the bloody place all to yerself in about five minutes,'
replied Bundy, as he assisted to lift a sack of cement weighing about
two hundredweight on to Dawson's buck. `We're finished now.'

When they had cleared away all the dirt and fragments of bricks and
mortar, while Crass and Slyme proceeded with the painting, Bundy and
Dawson loaded up their hand-cart with the old range and the bags of
unused cement and plaster, which they took back to the yard.
Meantime, Misery was wandering about the house and pounds like an evil
spirit seeking rest and finding none. He stood for some time gloomily
watching the four gardeners, who were busily at work laying strips of
turf, mowing the lawn, rolling the gravel paths and trimming the trees
and bushes. The boy Bert, Philpot, Harlow, Easton and Sawkins were
loading a hand-cart with ladders and empty paint-pots to return to the
yard. Just as they were setting out, Misery stopped them, remarking
that the cart was not half loaded - he said it would take a month to
get all the stuff away if they went on like that; so by his directions
they placed another long ladder on top of the pile and once more
started on their way, but before they had gone two dozen yards one of
the wheels of the cart collapsed and the load was scattered over the
roadway. Bert was at the same side of the cart as the wheel that
broke and he was thrown violently to the ground, where he lay half
stunned, in the midst of the ladders and planks. When they got him
out they were astonished to find that, thanks to the special
Providence that watches over all small boys, he was almost unhurt -
just a little dazed, that was all; and by the time Sawkins returned
with another cart, Bert was able to help to gather up the fallen
paint-pots and to accompany the men with the load to the yard. At the
corner of the road they paused to take a last look at the `job'.

`There it stands!' said Harlow, tragically, extending his arm towards
the house. `There it stands! A job that if they'd only have let us
do it properly, couldn't 'ave been done with the number of 'ands we've
'ad, in less than four months; and there it is, finished, messed up,
slobbered over and scamped, in nine weeks!'

`Yes, and now we can all go to 'ell,' said Philpot, gloomily.

At the yard they found Bundy and his mate, Ned Dawson, who helped them
to hang up the ladders in their usual places. Philpot was glad to get
out of assisting to do this, for he had contracted a rather severe
attack of rheumatism when working outside at the `Cave'. Whilst the
others were putting the ladders away he assisted Bert to carry the
paint-pots and buckets into the paint shop, and while there he filled
a small medicine bottle he had brought with him for the purpose, with
turpentine from the tank. He wanted this stuff to rub into his
shoulders and legs, and as he secreted the bottle in the inner pocket
of his coat, he muttered: `This is where we gets some of our own
back.'

They took the key of the yard to the office and as they separated to
go home Bundy suggested that the best thing they could do would be to
sew their bloody mouths up for a few months, because there was not
much probability of their getting another job until about March.

The next morning while Crass and Slyme were finishing inside, Owen
wrote the two gates. On the front entrance `The Cave' and on the back
`Tradesmens Entrance', in gilded letters. In the meantime, Sawkins
and Bert made several journeys to the Yard with the hand-cart.

Crass - working in the kitchen with Slyme - was very silent and
thoughtful. Ever since the job was started, every time Mr Sweater had
visited the house to see what progress was being made, Crass had been
grovelling to him in the hope of receiving a tip when the work was
finished. He had been very careful to act upon any suggestions that
Sweater had made from time to time and on several occasions had taken
a lot of trouble to get just the right tints of certain colours,
making up a number of different shades and combinations, and doing
parts of the skirtings or mouldings of rooms in order that Mr Sweater
might see exactly - before they went on with it — what it would look
like when finished. He made a great pretence of deferring to
Sweater's opinion, and assured him that he did not care how much
trouble he took as long as he - Sweater - was pleased. In fact, it
was no trouble at all: it was a pleasure. As the work neared
completion, Crass began to speculate upon the probable amount of the
donation he would receive as the reward of nine weeks of cringing,
fawning, abject servility. He thought it quite possible that he might
get a quid: it would not be too much, considering all the trouble he
had taken. It was well worth it. At any rate, he felt certain that
he was sure to get ten bob; a gentleman like Mr Sweater would never
have the cheek to offer less. The more he thought about it the more
improbable it appeared that the amount would be less than a quid, and
he made up his mind that whatever he got he would take good care that
none of the other men knew anything about it. HE was the one who had
had all the worry of the job, and he was the only one entitled to
anything there was to be had. Besides, even if he got a quid, by the
time you divided that up amongst a dozen - or even amongst two or
three - it would not be worth having.