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

wantonly wasted. They also make fortunes by selling some of it in

foreign countries; but they consume a great part of it themselves,

because the amount of labour expended on the things enjoyed by these

people is greater than that expended in the production of the things

used by the workers. Most of the people who do nothing get the best

of everything. More than three-quarters of the time of the working

classes is spent in producing the things used by the wealthy. Compare

the quality and quantity of the clothing possessed by the wife or

daughter of a rich man with that of the wife or daughter of a worker.

The time and labour spent on producing the one is twenty times greater

in one case than in the other; and it’s the same with everything else.

Their homes, their clothing, boots, hats, jewellery, and their food.

Everything must be of the very best that art or long and painful

labour can produce. But for most of those whose labour produces all

these good things - anything is considered good enough. For

themselves, the philanthropic workers manufacture shoddy cloth - that

is, cheap cloth made of old rags and dirt; and shoddy, uncomfortable

ironclad boots. If you see a workman wearing a really good suit of

clothes you may safely conclude that he is either leading an unnatural

life - that is, he is not married - or that he has obtained it from a

tallyman on the hire system and has not yet paid for it - or that it

is someone else’s castoff suit that he has bought second-hand or had

given to him by some charitable person. It’s the same with the food.

All the ducks and geese, pheasants, partridges, and all the very best

parts of the very best meat - all the soles and the finest plaice and

salmon and trout -‘

`‘Ere chuck it,’ cried Harlow, fiercely. `We don’t want to ‘ear no

more of it,’ and several others protested against the lecturer wasting

time on such mere details.

`- 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,