American library books » Other » Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕

Read book online «Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕».   Author   -   Robert Tressell



1 ... 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 ... 131
Go to page:
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 signwriting 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,

1 ... 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 ... 131
Go to page:

Free e-book: «Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕»   -   read online now on website american library books (americanlibrarybooks.com)

Comments (0)

There are no comments yet. You can be the first!
Add a comment