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>drunkenness and gluttony. Some of the females had tried to conceal

the ravages of vice and dissipation by coating their faces with powder

and paint. Mingling with and part of this crowd were a number of

well-fed-looking individuals dressed in long garments of black cloth

of the finest texture, and broad-brimmed soft felt hats. Most of

these persons had gold rings on their soft white fingers and

glove-like kid or calfskin boots on their feet. They belonged to the

great army of imposters who obtain an easy living by taking advantage

of the ignorance and simplicity of their fellow-men, and pretending to

be the `followers’ and `servants’ of the lowly Carpenter of Nazareth -

the Man of Sorrows, who had not where to lay His head.

 

None of these black-garbed `disciples’ were associating with the

groups of unemployed carpenters, bricklayers, plasterers, and painters

who stood here and there in the carriageway dressed in mean and

shabby clothing and with faces pale with privation. Many of these

latter were known to our friends with the cart, and nodded to them as

they passed. Now and then some of them came over and walked a little

distance by their side, inquiring whether there was any news of

another job at Rushton’s.

 

When they were about half-way down the Parade, just near the Fountain,

Crass and his mates encountered a number of men on whose arms were

white bands with the word `Collector’ in black letters. They carried

collecting boxes and accosted the people in the street, begging for

money for the unemployed. These men were a kind of skirmishers for

the main body, which could be seen some distance behind.

 

As the procession drew near, Sawkins steered the cart into the kerb

and halted as they went past. There were about three hundred men

altogether, marching four abreast. They carried three large white

banners with black letters, `Thanks to our Subscribers’ `In aid of

Genuine Unemployed’, `The Children must be Fed’. Although there were

a number of artisans in the procession, the majority of the men

belonged to what is called the unskilled labourer class. The skilled

artisan does not as a rule take part in such a procession except as a

very last resource … And all the time he strives to keep up an

appearance of being well-to-do, and would be highly indignant if

anyone suggested that he was really in a condition of abject,

miserable poverty. Although he knows that his children are often not

so well fed as are the pet dogs and cats of his `betters’, he tries to

bluff his neighbours into thinking that he has some mysterious private

means of which they know nothing, and conceals his poverty as if it

were a crime. Most of this class of men would rather starve than beg.

Consequently not more than a quarter of the men in the procession were

skilled artisans; the majority were labourers.

 

There was also a sprinkling of those unfortunate outcasts of society -

tramps and destitute, drunken loafers. If the self-righteous

hypocrites who despise these poor wretches had been subjected to the

same conditions, the majority of them would inevitably have become the

same as these.

 

Haggard and pale, shabbily or raggedly dressed, their boots broken and

down at heel, they slouched past. Some of them stared about with a

dazed or half-wild expression, but most of them walked with downcast

eyes or staring blankly straight in front of them. They appeared

utterly broken-spirited, hopeless and ashamed …

 

`Anyone can see what THEY are,’ sneered Crass, `there isn’t fifty

genuine tradesmen in the whole crowd, and most of ‘em wouldn’t work if

they ‘ad the offer of it.’

 

`That’s just what I was thinkin’,’ agreed Sawkins with a laugh.

 

`There will be plenty of time to say that when they have been offered

work and have refused to do it,’ said Owen.

 

`This sort of thing does the town a lot of ‘arm,’ remarked Slyme; `it

oughtn’t to be allowed; the police ought to stop it. It’s enough to

drive all the gentry out of the place!’

 

`Bloody disgraceful, I call it,’ said Crass, `marchin’ along the Grand

Parade on a beautiful day like this, just at the very time when most

of the gentry is out enjoyin’ the fresh hair.’

 

`I suppose you think they ought to stay at home and starve quietly,’

said Owen. `I don’t see why these men should care what harm they do

to the town; the town doesn’t seem to care much what becomes of THEM.’

 

`Do you believe in this sort of thing, then?’ asked Slyme.

 

`No; certainly not. I don’t believe in begging as a favour for what

one is entitled to demand as a right from the thieves who have robbed

them and who are now enjoying the fruits of their labour. From the

look of shame on their faces you might think that they were the

criminals instead of being the victims.’

 

`Well you must admit that most of them is very inferior men,’ said

Crass with a self-satisfied air. `There’s very few mechanics amongst

em.’

 

`What about it if they are? What difference does that make?’ replied

Owen. `They’re human beings, and they have as much right to live as

anyone else. What is called unskilled labour is just as necessary and

useful as yours or mine. I am no more capable of doing the

“unskilled” labour that most of these men do than most of them would

be capable of doing my work.’

 

`Well, if they was skilled tradesmen, they might find it easier to get

a job,’ said Crass.

 

Owen laughed offensively.

 

`Do you mean to say you think that if all these men could be

transformed into skilled carpenters, plasterers, bricklayers, and

painters, that it would be easier for all those other chaps whom we

passed a little while ago to get work? Is it possible that you or any

other sane man can believe anything so silly as that?’

 

Crass did not reply.

 

`If there is not enough work to employ all the mechanics whom we see

standing idle about the streets, how would it help these labourers in

the procession if they could all become skilled workmen?’

 

Still Crass did not answer, and neither Slyme nor Sawkins came to his

assistance.

 

`If that could be done,’ continued Owen, `it would simply make things

worse for those who are already skilled mechanics. A greater number

of skilled workers - keener competition for skilled workmen’s jobs - a

larger number of mechanics out of employment, and consequently,

improved opportunities for employers to reduce wages. That is

probably the reason why the Liberal Party - which consists for the

most part of exploiters of labour - procured the great Jim Scalds to

tell us that improved technical education is the remedy for

unemployment and poverty.’

 

`I suppose you think Jim Scalds is a bloody fool, the same as

everybody else what don’t see things YOUR way?’ said Sawkins.

 

`I should think he was a fool if I thought he believed what he says.

But I don’t think he believes it. He says it because he thinks the

majority of the working classes are such fools that they will believe

him. If he didn’t think that most of us are fools he wouldn’t tell us

such a yarn as that.’

 

`And I suppose you think as ‘is opinion ain’t far wrong,’ snarled

Crass.

 

`We shall be better able to judge of that after the next General

Election,’ replied Owen. `If the working classes again elect a

majority of Liberal or Tory landlords and employers to rule over them,

it will prove that Jim Scalds’ estimate of their intelligence is about

right.’

 

`Well, anyhow,’ persisted Slyme, `I don’t think it’s a right thing

that they should be allowed to go marchin’ about like that - driving

visitors out of the town.’

 

`What do you think they ought to do, then?’ demanded Owen.

 

`Let the b—rs go to the bloody workhouse!’ shouted Crass.

 

`But before they could be received there they would have to be

absolutely homeless and destitute, and then the ratepayers would have

to keep them. It costs about twelve shillings a week for each inmate,

so it seems to me that it would be more sensible and economical for

the community to employ them on some productive work.’

 

They had by this time arrived at the yard. The steps and ladders were

put away in their places and the dirty paint-pots and pails were

placed in the paintshop on the bench and on the floor. With what had

previously been brought back there were a great many of these things,

all needing to be cleaned out, so Bert at any rate stood in no danger

of being out of employment for some time to come.

 

When they were paid at the office, Owen on opening his envelope found

it contained as usual, a time sheet for the next week, which meant

that he was not `stood off’ although he did not know what work there

would be to do. Crass and Slyme were both to go to the `Cave’ to fix

the venetian blinds, and Sawkins also was to come to work as usual.

Chapter 28

The Week before Christmas

 

During the next week Owen painted a sign on the outer wall of one of

the workshops at the yard, and he also wrote the name of the firm on

three of the handcarts.

 

These and other odd jobs kept him employed a few hours every day, so

that he was not actually out of work.

 

One afternoon - there being nothing to do - he went home at three

o’clock, but almost as soon as he reached the house Bert White came

with a coffin-plate which had to be written at once. The lad said he

had been instructed to wait for it.

 

Nora gave the boy some tea and bread and butter to eat whilst Owen was

doing the coffin-plate, and presently Frankie - who had been playing

out in the street - made his appearance. The two boys were already

known to each other, for Bert had been there several times before - on

errands similar to the present one, or to take lessons on graining and

letter-painting from Owen.

 

`I’m going to have a party next Monday - after Christmas,’ remarked

Frankie. `Mother told me I might ask you if you’ll come?’

 

`All right,’ said Bert; `and I’ll bring my Pandoramer.’

 

`What is it? Is it alive?’ asked Frankie with a puzzled look.

 

`Alive! No, of course not,’ replied Bert with a superior air. `It’s

a show, like they have at the Hippodrome or the Circus.’

 

`How big is it?’

 

`Not very big: it’s made out of a sugar-box. I made it myself. It’s

not quite finished yet, but I shall get it done this week. There’s a

band as well, you know. I do that part with this.’

 

`This’ was a large mouth organ which he produced from the inner pocket

of his coat.

 

`Play something now.’

 

Bert accordingly played, and Frankie sang at the top of his voice a

selection of popular songs, including `The Old Bull and Bush’, `Has

Anyone seen a German Band?’, `Waiting at the Church’ and finally -

possibly as a dirge for the individual whose coffin-plate Owen was

writing - `Goodbye, Mignonette’ and `I wouldn’t leave my little wooden

hut for you’.

 

`You don’t know what’s in that,’ said Frankie, referring to a large

earthenware bread-pan which Nora had just asked Owen to help her to

lift from the floor on to one of the chairs. The vessel in

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