Books: The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

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When Easton went up to paint the pinnacle he had to stand on almost
the very top rung of the ladder, to be exact, the third from the top,
and lean over to steady himself by holding on to the pinnacle with his
left hand while he used the brush with his right. As it was only
about twenty minutes' work there were two men to hold the foot of the
ladder.

It was cheaper to do it this way than to rig up a proper scaffold,
which would have entailed perhaps two hours' work for two or three
men. Of course it was very dangerous, but that did not matter at all,
because even if the man fell it would make no difference to the firm -
all the men were insured and somehow or other, although they
frequently had narrow escapes, they did not often come to grief.

On this occasion, just as Easton was finishing he felt the pinnacle
that he was holding on to give way, and he got such a fright that his
heart nearly stopped beating. He let go his hold and steadied himself
on the ladder as well as he was able, and when he had descended three
or four steps - into comparative safety - he remained clinging
convulsively to the ladder and feeling so limp that he was unable to
go down any further for several minutes. When he arrived at the
bottom and the others noticed how white and trembling he was, he told
them about the pinnacle being loose, and the `coddy' coming along just
then, they told him about it, and suggested that it should be
repaired, as otherwise it might fall down and hurt someone: but the
`coddy' was afraid that if they reported it they might be blamed for
breaking it, and the owner might expect the firm to put it right for
nothing, so they decided to say nothing about it. The pinnacle is
stilt on the apex of the steeple waiting for a sufficiently strong
wind to blow it down on somebody's head.

When the other men heard of Easton's `narrow shave', most of them said
that it would have served him bloody well right if he had fallen and
broken his neck: he should have refused to go up at all without a
proper scaffold. That was what THEY would have done. If Misery or
the coddy had ordered any of THEM to go up and paint the pinnacle off
that ladder, they would have chucked their tools down and demanded
their ha'pence!

That was what they said, but somehow or other it never happened that
any of them ever `chucked their tools down' at all, although such
dangerous jobs were of very frequent occurrence.

The scamping business was not confined to houses or properties of an
inferior class: it was the general rule. Large good-class houses,
villas and mansions, the residences of wealthy people, were done in
exactly the same way. Generally in such places costly and beautiful
materials were spoilt in the using.

There was a large mansion where the interior woodwork - the doors,
windows and staircase - had to be finished in white enamel. It was
rather an old house and the woodwork needed rubbing down and filling
up before being repainted, but of course there was not time for that,
so they painted it without properly preparing it and when it was
enamelled the rough, uneven surface of the wood looked horrible: but
the owner appeared quite satisfied because it was nice and shiny. The
dining-room of the same house was papered with a beautiful and
expensive plush paper. The ground of this wall-hanging was made to
imitate crimson watered silk, and it was covered with a raised pattern
in plush of the same colour. The price marked on the back of this
paper in the pattern book was eighteen shillings a roll. Slyme was
paid sixpence a roll for hanging it: the room took ten rolls, so it
cost nine pounds for the paper and five shillings to hang it! To fix
such a paper as this properly the walls should first be done with a
plain lining paper of the same colour as the ground of the wallpaper
itself, because unless the paperhanger `lapps' the joints - which
should not be done - they are apt to open a little as the paper dries
and to show the white wall underneath - Slyme suggested this lining to
Misery, who would not entertain the idea for a moment - they had gone
to quite enough expense as it was, stripping the old paper off!

So Slyme went ahead, and as he had to make his wages, he could not
spend a great deal of time over it. Some of the joints were `lapped'
and some were butted, and two or three weeks after the owner of the
house moved in, as the paper became more dry, the joints began to open
and to show the white plaster of the wall, and then Owen had to go
there with a small pot of crimson paint and a little brush, and touch
out the white line.

While he was doing this he noticed and touched up a number of other
faults; places where Slyme - in his haste to get the work done - had
slobbered and smeared the face of the paper with fingermarks and
paste.

The same ghastly mess was made of several other `jobs' besides this
one, and presently they adopted the plan of painting strips of colour
on the wall in the places where the joints would come, so that if they
opened the white wall would not show: but it was found that the paste
on the back of the paper dragged the paint off the wall, and when the
joints opened the white streaks showed all the same, so Misery
abandoned all attempts to prevent joints showing, and if a customer
complained, he sent someone to `touch it up': but the lining paper was
never used, unless the customer or the architect knew enough about the
work to insist upon it.

In other parts of the same house the ceilings, the friezes, and the
dados, were covered with `embossed' or `relief' papers. These
hangings require very careful handling, for the raised parts are
easily damaged; but the men who fixed them were not allowed to take
the pains and time necessary to make good work: consequently in many
places - especially at the joints - the pattern was flattened out and
obliterated.

The ceiling of the drawing-room was done with a very thick high-relief
paper that was made in sheets about two feet square. These squares
were not very true in shape: they had evidently warped in drying after
manufacture: to make them match anything like properly would need
considerable time and care. But the men were not allowed to take the
necessary time. The result was that when it was finished it presented
a sort of `higgledy-piggledy' appearance. But it didn't matter:
nothing seemed to matter except to get it done. One would think from
the way the hands were driven and chivvied and hurried over the work
that they were being paid five or six shillings an hour instead of as
many pence.

`Get it done!' shouted Misery from morning till night. `For God's
sake get it done! Haven't you finished yet? We're losing money over
this "job"! If you chaps don't wake up and move a bit quicker, I
shall see if I can't get somebody else who will.'

These costly embossed decorations were usually finished in white; but
instead of carefully coating them with specially prepared paint of
patent distemper, which would need two or three coats, they slobbered
one thick coat of common whitewash on to it with ordinary whitewash
brushes.

This was a most economical way to get over it, because it made it
unnecessary to stop up the joints beforehand - the whitewash filled up
all the cracks: and it also filled up the hollow parts, the crevices
and interstices of the ornament, destroying the sharp outlines of the
beautiful designs and reducing the whole to a lumpy, formless mass.
But that did not matter either, so long as they got it done.

The architect didn't notice it, because he knew that the more Rushton
& Co. made out of the `job', the more he himself would make.

The man who had to pay for the work didn't notice it; he had the
fullest confidence in the architect.

At the risk of wearying the long-suffering reader, mention must be
made of an affair that happened at this particular `job'.

The windows were all fitted with venetian blinds. The gentleman for
whom all the work was being done had only just purchased the house,
but he preferred roller blinds: he had had roller blinds in his former
residence - which he had just sold - and as these roller blinds were
about the right size, he decided to have them fitted to the windows of
his new house: so he instructed Mr Rushton to have all the venetian
blinds taken down and stored away up in the loft under the roof. Mr
Rushton promised to have this done; but they were not ALL put away
under the roof: he had four of them taken to his own place and fitted
up in the conservatory. They were a little too large, so they had to
be narrowed before they were fixed.

The sequel was rather interesting, for it happened that when the
gentleman attempted to take the roller blinds from his old house, the
person to whom he had sold it refused to allow them to be removed;
claiming that when he bought the house, he bought the blinds also.
There was a little dispute, but eventually it was settled that way and
the gentleman decided that he would have the venetian blinds in his
new house after all, and instructed the people who moved his furniture
to take the venetians down again from under the roof, and refix them,
and then, of course, it was discovered that four of the blinds were
missing. Mr Rushton was sent for, and he said that he couldn't
understand it at all! The only possible explanation that he could
think of was that some of his workmen must have stolen them! He would
make inquiries, and endeavour to discover the culprits, but in any
case, as this had happened while things were in his charge, if he did
not succeed in recovering them, he would replace them.

As the blinds had been narrowed to fit the conservatory he had to have
four new ones made.

The customer was of course quite satisfied, although very sorry for Mr
Rushton. They had a little chat about it. Rushton told the gentleman
that he would be astonished if he knew all the facts: the difficulties
one has to contend with in dealing with working men: one has to watch
them continually! directly one's back is turned they leave off
working! They come late in the morning, and go home before the proper
time at night, and then unless one actually happens to catch them -
they charge the full number of hours on their time sheets! Every now
and then something would be missing, and of course Nobody knew
anything about it. Sometimes one would go unexpectedly to a `job' and
find a lot of them drunk. Of course one tried to cope with these
evils by means of rules and restrictions and organization, but it was
very difficult - one could not be everywhere or have eyes at the back
of one's head. The gentleman said that he had some idea of what it
was like: he had had something to do with the lower orders himself at
one time and another, and he knew they needed a lot of watching.

Rushton felt rather sick over this affair, but he consoled himself by
reflecting that he had got clear away with several valuable rose trees
and other plants which he had stolen out of the garden, and that a
ladder which had been discovered in the hayloft over the stable and
taken - by his instructions - to the `yard' when the `job' was
finished had not been missed.

Another circumstance which helped to compensate for the blinds was
that the brass fittings throughout the house, finger-plates,
sash-lifts and locks, bolts and door handles, which were supposed to
be all new and which the customer had paid a good price for - were
really all the old ones which Misery had had re-lacquered and refixed.

There was nothing unusual about this affair of the blinds, for Rushton
and Misery robbed everybody. They made a practice of annexing every
thing they could lay their hands upon, provided it could be done
without danger to themselves. They never did anything of a heroic or
dare-devil character: they had not the courage to break into banks or
jewellers' shops in the middle of the night, or to go out picking
pockets: all their robberies were of the sneak-thief order.

At one house that they `did up' Misery made a big haul. He had to get
up into the loft under the roof to see what was the matter with the
water tank. When he got up there he found a very fine hall gas lamp
made of wrought brass and copper with stained and painted glass sides.
Although covered with dust, it was otherwise in perfect condition, so
Misery had it taken to his own house and cleaned up and fixed in the
hail.

In the same loft there were a lot of old brass picture rods and other
fittings, and three very good planks, each about ten feet in length;
these latter had been placed across the rafters so that one could walk
easily and safely over to the tank. But Misery thought they would be
very useful to the firm for whitewashing ceilings and other work, so
he had them taken to the yard along with the old brass, which was
worth about fourpence a pound.

There was another house that had to be painted inside: the people who
used to live there had only just left: they had moved to some other
town, and the house had been re-let before they vacated it. The new
tenant had agreed with the agent that the house was to be renovated
throughout before he took possession.

The day after the old tenants moved away, the agent gave Rushton the
key so that he could go to see what was to be done and give an
estimate for the work.

While Rushton and Misery were looking over the house they discovered a
large barometer hanging on the wall behind the front door: it had been
overlooked by those who removed the furniture. Before returning the
key to the agent, Rushton sent one of his men to the house for the
barometer, which he kept in his office for a few weeks to see if there
would be any inquiries about it. If there had been, it would have
been easy to say that he had brought it there for safety - to take
care of till he could find the owner. The people to whom it belonged
thought the thing had been lost or stolen in transit, and afterwards
one of the workmen who had assisted to pack and remove the furniture
was dismissed from his employment on suspicion of having had something
to do with its disappearance. No one ever thought of Rushton in
connection with the matter, so after about a month he had it taken to
his own dwelling and hung up in the hall near the carved oak
marble-topped console table that he had sneaked last summer from 596
Grand Parade.

And there it hangs unto this day: and close behind it, supported by
cords of crimson silk, is a beautiful bevelled-edged card about a foot
square, and upon this card is written, in letters of gold: `Christ is
the head of this house; the unseen Guest at every meal, the silent
Listener to every conversation.'

And on the other side of the barometer is another card of the same
kind and size which says: `As for me and my house we will serve the
Lord.'

From another place they stole two large brass chandeliers. This house
had been empty for a very long time, and its owner - who did not
reside in the town - wished to sell it. The agent, to improve the
chances of a sale, decided to have the house overhauled and
redecorated. Rushton & Co.'s tender being the lowest, they got the
work. The chandeliers in the drawing-room and the dining-room were of
massive brass, but they were all blackened and tarnished. Misery
suggested to the agent that they could be cleaned and relacquered,
which would make them equal to new: in fact, they would be better than
new ones, for such things as these were not made now, and for once
Misery was telling the truth. The agent agreed and the work was done:
it was an extra, of course, and as the firm got twice as much for the
job as they paid for having it done, they were almost satisfied.

When this and all the other work was finished they sent in their
account and were paid.

Some months afterwards the house was sold, and Nimrod interviewed the
new proprietor with the object of securing the order for any work that
he might want done. He was successful. The papers on the walls of
several of the rooms were not to the new owner's taste, and, of
course, the woodwork would have to be re-painted to harmonize with the
new paper. There was a lot of other work besides this: a new
conservatory to build, a more modern bath and heating apparatus to be
put in, and the electric light to be installed, the new people having
an objection to the use of gas.

The specifications were prepared by an architect, and Rushton secured
the work. When the chandeliers were taken down, the men, instructed
by Misery, put them on a handcart, and covered them over with sacks
and dust-sheets and took them to the front shop, where they were
placed for sale with the other stock.

When all the work at the house was finished, it occurred to Rushton
and Nimrod that when the architect came to examine and pass the work
before giving them the certificate that would enable them to present
their account, he might remember the chandeliers and inquire what had
become of them. So they were again placed on the handcart, covered
with sacks and dust-sheets, taken back to the house and put up in the
loft under the roof so that, if he asked for them, there they were.

The architect came, looked ever the house, passed the work, and gave
his certificate; he never mentioned or thought of the chandeliers.
The owner of the house was present and asked for Rushton's bill, for
which he at once gave them a cheque and Rushton and Misery almost
grovelled and wallowed on the ground before him. Throughout the whole
interview the architect and the `gentleman' had kept their hats on,
but Rushton and Nimrod had been respectfully uncovered all the time,
and as they followed the other two about the house their bearing had
been expressive of the most abject servility.

When the architect and the owner were gone the two chandeliers were
taken down again from under the roof, and put upon a handcart, covered
over with sacks and dust-sheets and taken back to the shop and again
placed for sale with the other stock.

These are only a few of the petty thefts committed by these people.
To give anything approaching a full account of all the rest would
require a separate volume.

As a result of all the hurrying and scamping, every now and again the
men found that they had worked themselves out of a job.

Several times during the summer the firm had scarcely anything to do,
and nearly everybody had to stand off for a few days or weeks.

When Newman got his first start in the early part of the year he had
only been working for about a fortnight when - with several others -
he was `stood off'. Fortunately, however, the day after he left
Rushtons, he was lucky enough to get a start for another firm, Driver
and Botchit, where he worked for nearly a month, and then he was again
given a job at Rushton's, who happened to be busy again.

He did not have to lose much time, for he `finished up' for Driver and
Botchit on a Thursday night and on the Friday he interviewed Misery,
who told him they were about to commence a fresh `jab' on the
following Monday morning at six o'clock, and that he could start with
them. So this time Newman was only out of work the Friday and
Saturday, which was another stroke of luck, because it often happens
that a man has to lose a week or more after `finishing up' for one
firm before he gets another `job'.

All through the summer Crass continued to be the general `colour-man',
most of his time being spent at the shop mixing up colours for all the
different `jobs'. He also acted as a sort of lieutenant to Hunter,
who, as the reader has already been informed, was not a practical
painter. When there was a price to be given for some painting work,
Misery sometimes took Crass with him to look over it and help him to
estimate the amount of time and material it would take. Crass was
thus in a position of more than ordinary importance, not only being
superior to the `hands', but also ranking above the other sub-foremen
who had charge of the `jobs'.

It was Crass and these sub-foremen who were to blame for most of the
scamping and driving, because if it had not been for them neither
Rushton nor Hunter would have known how to scheme the work.

Of course, Hunter and Rushton wanted to drive and scamp, but not being
practical men they would not have known how if it had not been for
Crass and the others, who put them up to all the tricks of the trade.

Crass knew that when the men stayed till half past seven they were in
the habit of ceasing work for a few minutes to eat a mouthful of grub
about six o'clock, so he suggested to Misery that as it was not
possible to stop this, it would be a good plan to make the men stop
work altogether from half past five till six, and lose half an hour's
pay; and to make up the time, instead of leaving off at seven-thirty,
they could work till eight.

Misery had known of and winked at the former practice, for he knew
that the men could not work all that time without something to eat,
but Crass's suggestion seemed a much better way, and it was adopted.

When the other masters in Mugsborough heard of this great reform they
all followed suit, and it became the rule in that town, whenever it
was necessary to work overtime, for the men to stay till eight instead
of half past seven as formerly, and they got no more pay than before.

Previous to this summer it had been the almost invariable rule to have
two men in each room that was being painted, but Crass pointed out to
Misery that under such circumstances they wasted time talking to each
other, and they also acted as a check on one another: each of them
regulated the amount of work he did by the amount the other did, and
if the `job' took too long it was always difficult to decide which of
the two was to blame: but if they were made to work alone, each of
them would be on his mettle; he would not know how much the others
were doing, and the fear of being considered slow in comparison with
others would make them all tear into it all they could.

Misery thought this a very good idea, so the solitary system was
introduced, and as far as practicable, one room, one man became the
rule.

They even tried to make the men distemper large ceilings
single-handed, and succeeded in one or two cases, but after several
ceilings had been spoilt and had to be washed off and done over again,
they gave that up: but nearly all the other work was now arranged on
the `solitary system', and it worked splendidly: each man was
constantly in a state of panic as to whether the others were doing
more work than himself.

Another suggestion that Crass made to Misery was that the sub-foremen
should be instructed never to send a man into a room to prepare it for
painting.

`If you sends a man into a room to get it ready,' said Crass, `'e
makes a meal of it! 'E spends as much time messin' about rubbin' down
and stoppin' up as it would take to paint it. But,' he added, with a
cunning leer, `give 'em a bit of putty and a little bit of glass-paper,
and the paint at the stand, and then 'e gits it in 'is mind as 'e's
going in there to paint it! And 'e doesn't mess about much over the
preparing of it'.

These and many other suggestions - all sorts of devices for scamping
and getting over the work - were schemed out by Crass and the other
sub-foremen, who put them into practice and showed them to Misery and
Rushton in the hope of currying favour with them and being `kept on'.
And between the lot of them they made life a veritable hell for
themselves, and the hands, and everybody else around them. And the
mainspring of it all was - the greed and selfishness of one man, who
desired to accumulate money! For this was the only object of all the
driving and bullying and hatred and cursing and unhappiness - to make
money for Rushton, who evidently considered himself a deserving case.

It is sad and discreditable, but nevertheless true, that some of the
more selfish of the philanthropists often became weary of well-doing,
and lost all enthusiasm in the good cause. At such times they used to
say that they were `Bloody well fed up' with the whole business and
`Tired of tearing their bloody guts out for the benefit of other
people' and every now and then some of these fellows would `chuck up'
work, and go on the booze, sometimes stopping away for two or three
days or a week at a time. And then, when it was all over, they came
back, very penitent, to ask for another `start', but they generally
found that their places had been filled.

If they happened to be good `sloggers' - men who made a practice of
`tearing their guts out' when they did work - they were usually
forgiven, and after being admonished by Misery, permitted to resume
work, with the understanding that if ever it occurred again they would
get the `infernal' - which means the final and irrevocable - sack.

There was once a job at a shop that had been a high-class restaurant
kept by a renowned Italian chef. It had been known as

`MACARONI'S ROYAL ITALIAN CAFE'