Books: The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

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The result of the exhibition was that Mrs Linden promised to make
porridge for Charley and Elsie whenever she could spare the time, and
Mrs Easton said she would try it for the baby also.

Chapter 43

The Good Old Summer-time

All through the summer the crowd of ragged-trousered philanthropists
continued to toil and sweat at their noble and unselfish task of
making money for Mr Rushton.

Painting the outsides of houses and shops, washing off and
distempering ceilings, stripping old paper off walls, painting and
papering rooms and staircases, building new rooms or other additions
to old houses or business premises, digging up old drains, repairing
leaky roofs and broken windows.

Their zeal and enthusiasm in the good cause was unbounded. They were
supposed to start work at six o'clock, but most of them were usually
to be found waiting outside the job at about a quarter to that hour,
sitting on the kerbstones or the doorstep.

Their operations extended all over the town: at all hours of the day
they were to be seen either going or returning from `jobs', carrying
ladders, planks, pots of paint, pails of whitewash, earthenware,
chimney pots, drainpipes, lengths of guttering, closet pans, grates,
bundles of wallpaper, buckets of paste, sacks of cement, and loads of
bricks and mortar. Quite a common spectacle - for gods and men - was
a procession consisting of a handcart loaded up with such materials
being pushed or dragged through the public streets by about half a
dozen of these Imperialists in broken boots and with battered,
stained, discoloured bowler hats, or caps splashed with paint and
whitewash; their stand-up collars dirty, limp and crumpled, and their
rotten second-hand misfit clothing saturated with sweat and plastered
with mortar.

Even the assistants in the grocers' and drapers' shops laughed and
ridiculed and pointed the finger of scorn at them as they passed.

The superior classes - those who do nothing - regarded them as a sort
of lower animals. A letter appeared in the Obscurer one week from one
of these well-dressed loafers, complaining of the annoyance caused to
the better-class visitors by workmen walking on the pavement as they
passed along the Grand Parade in the evening on their way home from
work, and suggesting that they should walk in the roadway. When they
heard of the letter a lot of the workmen adopted the suggestion and
walked in the road so as to avoid contaminating the idlers.

This letter was followed by others of a somewhat similar kind, and one
or two written in a patronizing strain in defence of the working
classes by persons who evidently knew nothing about them. There was
also a letter from an individual who signed himself `Morpheus'
complaining that he was often awakened out of his beauty sleep in the
middle of the night by the clattering noise of the workmen's boots as
they passed his house on their way to work in the morning. `Morpheus'
wrote that not only did they make a dreadful noise with their horrible
iron-clad boots, but they were in the habit of coughing and spitting a
great deal, which was very unpleasant to hear, and they conversed in
loud tones. Sometimes their conversation was not at all edifying, for
it consisted largely of bad language, which `Morpheus' assumed to be
attributable to the fact that they were out of temper because they had
to rise so early.

As a rule they worked till half-past five in the evening, and by the
time they reached home it was six o'clock. When they had taken their
evening meal and had a wash it was nearly eight: about nine most of
them went to bed so as to be able to get up about half past four the
next morning to make a cup of tea before leaving home at half past
five to go to work again. Frequently it happened that they had to
leave home earlier than this, because their `job' was more than half
an hour's walk away. It did not matter how far away the `job' was
from the shop, the men had to walk to and fro in their own time, for
Trades Union rules were a dead letter in Mugsborough. There were no
tram fares or train fares or walking time allowed for the likes of
them.

Ninety-nine out of every hundred of them did not believe in such
things as those: they had much more sense than to join Trades Unions:
on the contrary, they believed in placing themselves entirely at the
mercy of their good, kind Liberal and Tory masters.

Very frequently it happened, when only a few men were working
together, that it was not convenient to make tea for breakfast or
dinner, and then some of them brought tea with them ready made in
bottles and drank it cold; but most of them went to the nearest pub
and ate their food there with a glass of beer. Even those who would
rather have had tea or coffee had beer, because if they went to a
temperance restaurant or coffee tavern it generally happened that they
were not treated very civilly unless they bought something to eat as
well as to drink, and the tea at such places was really dearer than
beer, and the latter was certainly quite as good to drink as the
stewed tea or the liquid mud that was sold as coffee at cheap
`Workmen's' Eating Houses.

There were some who were - as they thought - exceptionally lucky: the
firms they worked for were busy enough to let them work two hours'
overtime every night - till half past seven - without stopping for
tea. Most of these arrived home about eight, completely flattened
out. Then they had some tea and a wash and before they knew where
they were it was about half past nine. Then they went to sleep again
till half past four or five the next morning.

They were usually so tired when they got home at night that they never
had any inclination for study or any kind of self-improvement, even if
they had had the time. They had plenty of time to study during the
winter: and their favourite subject then was, how to preserve
themselves from starving to death.

This overtime, however, was the exception, for although in former
years it had been the almost invariable rule to work till half past
seven in summer, most of the firms now made a practice of ceasing work
at five-thirty. The revolution which had taken place in this matter
was a favourite topic of conversation amongst the men, who spoke
regretfully of the glorious past, when things were busy, and they used
to work fifteen, sixteen and even eighteen hours a day. But nowadays
there were nearly as many chaps out of work in the summer as in the
winter. They used to discuss the causes of the change. One was, of
course, the fact that there was not so much building going on as
formerly, and another was the speeding up and slave-driving, and the
manner in which the work was now done, or rather scamped. As old
Philpot said, he could remember the time, when he was a nipper, when
such a `job' as that at `The Cave' would have lasted at least six
months, and they would have had more hands on it too! But it would
have been done properly, not messed up like that was: all the woodwork
would have been rubbed down with pumice stone and water: all the knots
cut out and the holes properly filled up, and the work properly rubbed
down with glass-paper between every coat. But nowadays the only place
you'd see a bit of pumice stone was in a glass case in a museum, with
a label on it.

`Pumice Stone: formerly used by house-painters.'

Most of them spoke of those bygone times with poignant regret, but
there were a few - generally fellows who had been contaminated by
contact with Socialists or whose characters had been warped and
degraded by the perusal of Socialist literature - who said that they
did not desire to work overtime at all - ten hours a day were quite
enough for them - in fact they would rather do only eight. What they
wanted, they said, was not more work, but more grub, more clothes,
more leisure, more pleasure and better homes. They wanted to be able
to go for country walks or bicycle rides, to go out fishing or to go
to the seaside and bathe and lie on the beach and so forth. But these
were only a very few; there were not many so selfish as this. The
majority desired nothing but to be allowed to work, and as for their
children, why, `what was good enough for themselves oughter be good
enough for the kids'.

They often said that such things as leisure, culture, pleasure and the
benefits of civilization were never intended for `the likes of us'.

They did not - all - actually say this, but that was what their
conduct amounted to; for they not only refused to help to bring about
a better state of things for their children, but they ridiculed and
opposed and cursed and abused those who were trying to do it for them.
The foulest words that came out of their mouths were directed against
the men of their own class in the House of Commons - the Labour
Members - and especially the Socialists, whom they spoke of as fellows
who were too bloody lazy to work for a living, and who wanted the
working classes to keep them.

Some of them said that they did not believe in helping their children
to become anything better than their parents had been because in such
cases the children, when they grew up, `looked down' upon and were
ashamed of their fathers and mothers! They seemed to think that if
they loved and did their duty to their children, the probability was
that the children would prove ungrateful: as if even if that were
true, it would be any excuse for their indifference.

Another cause of the shortage of work was the intrusion into the trade
of so many outsiders: fellows like Sawkins and the other lightweights.
Whatever other causes there were, there could be no doubt that the
hurrying and scamping was a very real one. Every `job' had to be done
at once! as if it were a matter of life or death! It must be finished
by a certain time. If the `job' was at an empty house, Misery's yarn
was that it was let! the people were coming in at the end of the week!
therefore everything must be finished by Wednesday night. All the
ceilings had to be washed off, the walls stripped and repapered, and
two coats of paint inside and outside the house. New drains were to
be put in, and all broken windows and locks and broken plaster
repaired. A number of men - usually about half as many as there
should have been - would be sent to do the work, and one man was put
in charge of the `job'. These sub-foremen or `coddies' knew that if
they `made their jobs pay' they would be put in charge of others and
be kept on in preference to other men as long as the firm had any
work; so they helped Misery to scheme and scamp the work and watched
and drove the men under their charge; and these latter poor wretches,
knowing that their only chance of retaining their employment was to
`tear into it', tore into it like so many maniacs. Instead of
cleaning any parts of the woodwork that were greasy or very dirty,
they brushed them over with a coat of spirit varnish before painting
to make sure that the paint would dry: places where the plaster of the
walls was damaged were repaired with what was humorously called
`garden cement' - which was the technical term for dirt out of the
garden - and the surface was skimmed over with proper material.
Ceilings that were not very dirty were not washed off, but dusted, and
lightly gone over with a thin coat of whitewash. The old paper was
often left upon the wails of rooms that were supposed to be stripped
before being repapered, and to conceal this the joints of the old
paper were rubbed down so that they should not be perceptible through
the new paper. As far as possible, Misery and the sub-foreman avoided
doing the work the customers paid for, and even what little they did
was hurried over anyhow.

A reign of terror - the terror of the sack - prevailed on all the
`jobs', which were carried on to the accompaniment of a series of
alarums and excursions: no man felt safe for a moment: at the most
unexpected times Misery would arrive and rush like a whirlwind all
over the `job'. If he happened to find a man having a spell the
culprit was immediately discharged, but he did not get the opportunity
of doing this very often for everybody was too terrified to leave off
working even for a few minutes' rest.

From the moment of Hunter's arrival until his departure, a state of
panic, hurry, scurry and turmoil reigned. His strident voice rang
through the house as he bellowed out to them to `Rouse themselves!
Get it done! Smear it on anyhow! Tar it over! We've got another job
to start when you've done this!'

Occasionally, just to keep the others up to concert pitch, he used to
sack one of the men for being too slow. They all trembled before him
and ran about whenever he spoke to or called them, because they knew
that there were always a lot of other men out of work who would be
willing and eager to fill their places if they got the sack.

Although it was now summer, and the Distress Committee and all the
other committees had suspended operations, there was still always a
large number of men hanging about the vicinity of the Fountain on the
Parade - The Wage Slave Market. When men finished up for the firm
they were working for they usually made for that place. Any master in
want of a wage slave for a few hours, days or weeks could always buy
one there. The men knew this and they also knew that if they got the
sack from one firm it was no easy matter to get another job, and that
was why they were terrified.

When Misery was gone - to repeat the same performance at some other
job - the sub-foreman would have a crawl round to see how the chaps
were getting on: to find out if they had used up all their paint yet,
or to bring them some putty so that they should not have to leave
their work to go to get anything themselves: and then very often
Rushton himself would come and stalk quietly about the house or stand
silently behind the men, watching them as they worked. He seldom
spoke to anyone, but just stood there like a graven image, or walked
about like a dumb animal - a pig, as the men used to say. This
individual had a very exalted idea of his own importance and dignity.
One man got the sack for presuming to stop him in the street to ask
some questions about some work that was being done.

Misery went round to all the jobs the next day and told all the
`coddies' to tell all the hands that they were never to speak to Mr
Rushton if they met him in the street, and the following Saturday the
man who had so offended was given his back day, ostensibly because
there was nothing for him to do, but really for the reason stated above.

There was one job, the outside of a large house that stood on elevated
ground overlooking the town. The men who were working there were even
more than usually uncomfortable, for it was said that Rushton used to
sit in his office and watch them through a telescope.

Sometimes, when it was really necessary to get a job done by a certain
time, they had to work late, perhaps till eight or nine o'clock. No
time was allowed for tea, but some of them brought sufficient food
with them in the morning to enable them to have a little about six
o'clock in the evening. Others arranged for their children to bring
them some tea from home. As a rule, they partook of this without
stopping work: they had it on the floor beside them and ate and drank
and worked at the same time - a paint-brushful of white lead in one
hand, and a piece of bread and margarine in the other. On some jobs,
if the `coddy' happened to be a decent sort, they posted a sentry to
look out for Hunter or Rushton while the others knocked off for a few
minutes to snatch a mouthful of grub; but it was not safe always to do
this, for there was often some crawling sneak with an ambition to
become a `coddy' who would not scruple to curry favour with Misery by
reporting the crime.

As an additional precaution against the possibility of any of the men
idling or wasting their time, each one was given a time-sheet on which
he was required to account for every minute of the day. The form of
these sheets vary slightly with different firms: that of Rushton &
Co., was as shown.

TIME SHEET
OF WORK DONE BY IN THE EMPLOY OF
RUSHTON & CO
BUILDERS & DECORATORS : MUGSBOROUGH

NO SMOKING OR INTOXICANTS ALLOWED DURING WORKING HOURS

EACH PIECE OF WORK MUST BE FULLY DESCRIBED, WHAT IT WAS, AND HOW LONG
IT TOOK TO DO.

-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
| | Time When | Time When | |
| Where Working | Started | Finished | Hours | What Doing
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Sat | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Mon | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Tues | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Wed | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Thur | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
Fri | | | | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------
| | Total Hours | |
-----+---------------+-----------+-----------+-------+------------

One Monday morning Misery gave each of the sub-foremen an envelope
containing one of the firm s memorandum forms. Crass opened his and
found the following:

Crass

When you are on a job with men under you, check and initial their
time-sheets every night.

If they are called away and sent to some other job, or stood off,
check and initial their time-sheets as they leave your job.

Any man coming on your job during the day, you must take note of the
exact time of his arrival, and see that his sheet is charged right.

Any man who is slow or lazy, or any man that you notice talking more
than is necessary during working hours, you must report him to Mr
Hunter. We expect you and the other foremen to help us to carry out
these rules, AND ANY INFORMATION GIVEN US ABOUT ANY MAN IS TREATED IN
CONFIDENCE.

Rushton & Co.

Note: This applies to all men of all trades who come on the jobs of
which you are the foreman.

Every week the time-sheets were scrutinized, and every now and then a
man would be `had up on the carpet' in the office before Rushton and
Misery, and interrogated as to why he had taken fifteen hours to do
ten hours work? In the event of the accused being unable to give a
satisfactory explanation of his conduct he was usually sacked on the
spot.

Misery was frequently called `up on the carpet' himself.

If he made a mistake in figuring out a `job', and gave in too high a
tender for it, so that the firm did not get the work, Rushton
grumbled. If the price was so low that there was not enough profit,
Rushton was very unpleasant about it, and whenever it happened that
there was not only no profit but an actual loss, Rushton created such
a terrible disturbance that Misery was nearly frightened to death and
used to get on his bicycle and rush off to the nearest `job' and howl
and bellow at the `chaps' to get it done.

All the time the capabilities of the men - especially with regard to
speed - were carefully watched and noted: and whenever there was a
slackness of work and it was necessary to discharge some hands those
that were slow or took too much pains were weeded out: this of course
was known to the men and it had the desired effect upon them.

In justice to Rushton and Hunter, it must be remembered that there was
a certain amount of excuse for all this driving and cheating, because
they had to compete with all the other firms, who conducted their
business in precisely the same way. It was not their fault, but the
fault of the system.

A dozen firms tendered for every `job', and of course the lowest
tender usually obtained the work. Knowing this, they all cut the
price down to the lowest possible figure and the workmen had to
suffer.

The trouble was that there were too many `masters'. It would have
been far better for the workmen if nine out of every ten of the
employers had never started business. Then the others would have been
able to get a better price for their work, and the men might have had
better wages and conditions. The hands, however, made no such
allowances or excuses as these for Misery and Rushton. They never
thought or spoke of them except with hatred and curses. But whenever
either of them came to the `job' the `coddies' cringed and grovelled
before them, greeting them with disgustingly servile salutations,
plentifully interspersed with the word `Sir', greetings which were
frequently either ignored altogether or answered with an inarticulate
grunt. They said `Sir' at nearly every second word: it made one feel
sick to hear them because it was not courtesy: they were never
courteous to each other, it was simply abject servility and
self-contempt.

One of the results of all the frenzied hurrying was that every now and
then there was an accident: somebody got hurt: and it was strange that
accidents were not more frequent, considering the risk, that were
taken. When they happened to be working on ladders in busy streets
they were not often allowed to have anyone to stand at the foot, and
the consequence was that all sorts and conditions of people came into
violent collision with the bottoms of the ladders. Small boys playing
in the reckless manner characteristic of their years rushed up against
them. Errand boys, absorbed in the perusal of penny instalments of
the adventures of Claude Duval, and carrying large baskets of
green-groceries, wandered into them. Blind men fell foul of them.
Adventurous schoolboys climbed up them. People with large feet became
entangled in them. Fat persons of both sexes who thought it unlucky
to walk underneath, tried to negotiate the narrow strip of pavement
between the foot of the ladder and the kerb, and in their passage
knocked up against the ladder and sometimes fell into the road.
Nursemaids wheeling perambulators - lolling over the handle, which
they usually held with their left hands, the right holding a copy of
Orange Blossoms or some halfpenny paper, and so interested in the
story of the Marquis of Lymejuice - a young man of noble presence and
fabulous wealth, with a drooping golden moustache and very long legs,
who, notwithstanding the diabolical machinations of Lady Sibyl
Malvoise, who loves him as well as a woman with a name like that is
capable of loving anyone, is determined to wed none other than the
scullery-maid at the Village Inn - inevitably bashed the perambulators
into the ladders. Even when the girls were not reading they nearly
always ran into the ladders, which seemed to possess a magnetic
attraction for perambulators and go-carts of all kinds, whether
propelled by nurses or mothers. Sometimes they would advance very
cautiously towards the ladder: then, when they got very near, hesitate
a little whether to go under or run the risk of falling into the
street by essaying the narrow passage: then they would get very close
up to the foot of the ladder, and dodge and dance about, and give the
cart little pushes from side to side, until at last the magnetic
influence exerted itself and the perambulator crashed into the ladder,
perhaps at the very moment that the man at the top was stretching out
to do some part of the work almost beyond his reach.

Once Harlow had just started painting some rainpipes from the top of a
40-ft ladder when one of several small boys who were playing in the
street ran violently against the foot. Harlow was so startled that he
dropped his brushes and clutched wildly at the ladder, which turned
completely round and slid about six feet along the parapet into the
angle of the wall, with Harlow hanging beneath by his hands. The
paint pot was hanging by a hook from one of the rungs, and the jerk
scattered the brown paint it contained all over Harlow and all over
the brickwork of the front of the house. He managed to descend safely
by clasping his legs round the sides of the ladder and sliding down.
When Misery came there was a row about what he called carelessness.
And the next day Harlow had to wear his Sunday trousers to work.

On another occasion they were painting the outside of a house called
`Gothic Lodge'. At one corner it had a tower surmounted by a spire or
steeple, and this steeple terminated with an ornamental wrought-iron
pinnacle which had to be painted. The ladder they had was not quite
long enough, and besides that, as it had to stand in a sort of a
courtyard at the base of the tower, it was impossible to slant it
sufficiently: instead of lying along the roof of the steeple, it was
sticking up in the air.