Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕

them that the rate at which the ancient Roman conducted their building

operations had nothing whatever to do with the case.

Sir Featherstone Blood sat down amid a wild storm of cheering, and

then the procession reformed, and, reinforced by the audience from the

hall, they proceeded to march about the dreary streets, singing, to

the tune of the `Men of Harlech’:

`Vote for Sweater, Vote for Sweater!

Vote for Sweater, VOTE FOR SWEATER!

`He’s the Man, who has a plan,

To liberate and reinstate the workers!

`Men of Mugs’bro’, show your mettle,

Let them see that you’re in fettle!

Once for all this question settle

Sweater shall Prevail!’

The carriage containing Sir Featherstone, Adam Sweater, and Rushton

and Didlum was in the middle of the procession. The banner and the

torches were at the head, and the grandeur of the scene was heightened

by four men who walked - two on each side of the carriage, burning

green fire in frying pans. As they passed by the Slave Market, a

poor, shabbily dressed wretch whose boots were so worn and rotten that

they were almost falling off his feet, climbed up a lamp-post, and

taking off his cap waved it in the air and shrieked out: `Three Cheers

for Sir Featherstone Blood, our future Prime Minister!’

The Philanthropists cheered themselves hoarse and finally took the

horses out of the traces and harnessed themselves to the carriage

instead.

`‘Ow much wages will Sir Featherstone get if ‘e is made Prime

Minister?’ asked Harlow of another Philanthropist who was also pushing

up behind the carriage.

`Five thousand a year,’ replied the other, who by some strange chance

happened to know. `That comes to a ‘underd pounds a week.’

`Little enough, too, for a man like ‘im,’ said Harlow.

`You’re right, mate,’ said the other, with deep sympathy in his voice.

`Last time ‘e ‘eld office ‘e was only in for five years, so ‘e only

made twenty-five thousand pounds out of it. Of course ‘e got a

pension as well - two thousand a year for life, I think it is; but

after all, what’s that - for a man like ‘im?’

`Nothing,’ replied Harlow, in a tone of commiseration, and Newman, who

was also there, helping to drag the carriage, said that it ought to be

at least double that amount.

However, they found some consolation in knowing that Sir Featherstone

would not have to wait till he was seventy before he obtained his

pension; he would get it directly he came out of office.

The following evening Barrington, Owen and a few others of the same

way of thinking, who had subscribed enough money between them to

purchase a lot of Socialist leaflets, employed themselves distributing

them to the crowds at the Liberal and Tory meetings, and whilst they

were doing this they frequently became involved in arguments with the

supporters of the capitalist system. In their attempts to persuade

others to refrain from voting for either of the candidates, they were

opposed even by some who professed to believe in Socialism, who said

that as there was no better Socialist candidate the thing to do was to

vote for the better of the two. This was the view of Harlow and

Easton, whom they met. Harlow had a green ribbon in his buttonhole,

but Easton wore D’Encloseland’s colours.

One man said that if he had his way, all those who had votes should be

compelled to record them - whether they liked it or not - or be

disenfranchised! Barrington asked him if he believed in Tarrif

Reform. The man said no.

`Why not?’ demanded Barrington.

The other replied that he opposed Tariff Reform because he believed it

would ruin the country. Barrington inquired if he were a supporter of

Socialism. The man said he was not, and when further questioned he

said that he believed if it were ever adopted it would bring black ruin

upon the country - he believed this because Mr Sweater had said so.

When Barrington asked him - supposing there were only two candidates,

one a Socialist and the other a Tariff Reformer - how would he like to

be compelled to vote for one of them, he was at a loss for an answer.

During the next few days the contest continued. The hired orators

continued to pour forth their streams of eloquence; and tons of

literature flooded the town. The walls were covered with huge

posters: `Another Liberal Lie.’ `Another Tory Fraud.’

Unconsciously each of these two parties put in some splendid work for

Socialism, in so much that each of them thoroughly exposed the

hypocrisy of the other. If the people had only had the sense, they

might have seen that the quarrel between the Liberal and Tory leaders

was merely a quarrel between thieves over the spoil; but unfortunately

most of the people had not the sense to perceive this. They were

blinded by bigoted devotion to their parties, and - inflamed with

maniacal enthusiasm - thought of nothing but `carrying their flags to

victory’.

At considerable danger to themselves, Barrington, Owen and the other

Socialists continued to distribute their leaflets and to heckle the

Liberal and Tory speakers. They asked the Tories to explain the

prevalence of unemployment and poverty in protected countries, like

Germany and America, and at Sweater’s meetings they requested to be

informed what was the Liberal remedy for unemployment. From both

parties the Socialists obtained the same kinds of answer - threats of

violence and requests `not to disturb the meeting’.

These Socialists held quite a lot of informal meetings on their own.

Every now and then when they were giving their leaflets away, some

unwary supporter of the capitalist system would start an argument, and

soon a crowd would gather round and listen.

Sometimes the Socialists succeeded in arguing their opponents to an

absolute standstill, for the Liberals and Tones found it impossible to

deny that machinery is the cause of the overcrowded state of the

labour market; that the overcrowded labour market is the cause of

unemployment; that the fact of there being always an army of

unemployed waiting to take other men’s jobs away from them destroys

the independence of those who are in employment and keeps them in

subjection to their masters. They found it impossible to deny that

this machinery is being used, not for the benefit of all, but to make

fortunes for a few. In short, they were unable to disprove that the

monopoly of the land and machinery by a comparatively few persons, is

the cause of the poverty of the majority. But when these arguments

that they were unable to answer were put before them and when it was

pointed out that the only possible remedy was the Public Ownership and

Management of the Means of production, they remained angrily silent,

having no alternative plan to suggest.

At other times the meeting resolved itself into a number of

quarrelsome disputes between the Liberals and Tories that formed the

crowd, which split itself up into a lot of little groups and whatever

the original subject might have been they soon drifted to a hundred

other things, for most of the supporters of the present system seemed

incapable of pursuing any one subject to its logical conclusion. A

discussion would be started about something or other; presently an

unimportant side issue would crop up, then the original subject would

be left unfinished, and they would argue and shout about the side

issue. In a little while another side issue would arise, and then the

first side issue would be abandoned also unfinished, and an angry

wrangle about the second issue would ensue, the original subject being

altogether forgotten.

They did not seem to really desire to discover the truth or to find

out the best way to bring about an improvement in their condition,

their only object seemed to be to score off their opponents.

Usually after one of these arguments, Owen would wander off by

himself, with his head throbbing and a feeling of unutterable

depression and misery at his heart; weighed down by a growing

conviction of the hopelessness of everything, of the folly of

expecting that his fellow workmen would ever be willing to try to

understand for themselves the causes that produced their sufferings.

It was not that those causes were so obscure that it required

exceptional intelligence to perceive them; the causes of all the

misery were so apparent that a little child could easily be made to

understand both the disease and the remedy; but it seemed to him that

the majority of his fellow workmen had become so convinced of their

own intellectual inferiority that they did not dare to rely on their

own intelligence to guide them, preferring to resign the management of

their affairs unreservedly into the hands of those who battened upon

and robbed them. They did not know the causes of the poverty that

perpetually held them and their children in its cruel grip, and - they

did not want to know! And if one explained those causes to them in

such language and in such a manner that they were almost compelled to

understand, and afterwards pointed out to them the obvious remedy,

they were neither glad nor responsive, but remained silent and were

angry because they found themselves unable to answer and disprove.

They remained silent; afraid to trust their own intelligence, and the

reason of this attitude was that they had to choose between the

evidence and their own intelligence, and the stories told them by

their masters and exploiters. And when it came to making this choice

they deemed it safer to follow their old guides, than to rely on their

own judgement, because from their very infancy they had had drilled

into them the doctrine of their own mental and social inferiority, and

their conviction of the truth of this doctrine was voiced in the

degraded expression that fell so frequently from their lips, when

speaking of themselves and each other - `The Likes of Us!’

They did not know the causes of their poverty, they did not want to

know, they did not want to hear.

All they desired was to be left alone so that they might continue to

worship and follow those who took advantage of their simplicity, and

robbed them of the fruits of their toil; their old leaders, the fools

or scoundrels who fed them with words, who had led them into the

desolation where they now seemed to be content to grind out treasure

for their masters, and to starve when those masters did not find it

profitable to employ them. It was as if a flock of foolish sheep

placed themselves under the protection of a pack of ravening wolves.

Several times the small band of Socialists narrowly escaped being

mobbed, but they succeeded in disposing of most of their leaflets

without any serious trouble. Towards the latter part of one evening

Barrington and Owen became separated from the others, and shortly

afterwards these two lost each other in the crush.

About nine o’clock, Barrington was in a large Liberal crowd, listening

to the same hired orator who had spoken a few evenings before on the

hill - the man with the scar on his forehead. The crowd was

applauding him loudly and Barrington again fell to wondering where he

had seen this man before. As on the previous occasion, this speaker

made no reference to Socialism, confining himself to other matters.

Barrington examined him closely, trying to recall under what

circumstances they had met previously, and presently he remembered

that this was one of the Socialists who had come with the band of

cyclists into the town that Sunday morning, away