Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (fiction novels to read .txt) 📕
Another answer is that `The Philanthropists' is not a treatise oressay, but a novel. My main object was to write a readable story fullof human interest and based on the happenings of everyday life, thesubject of Socialism being treated incidentally.
This was the task I set myself. To what extent I have succeeded isfor others to say; but whatever their verdict, the work possesses atleast one merit - that of being true. I have invented nothing. Thereare no scenes or incidents in the story that I have not eitherwitnessed myself or had conclusive evidence of. As far as I dared Ilet th
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old story, and each of ‘em is askin’ the workin’ men to elect ‘im to
Parlimint, and promisin’ to do something or other to make things
better for the lower horders.’
As an appropriate selection to go with this picture, Bert played the
tune of a popular song, the words being well known to the children,
who sang enthusiastically, clapping their hands and stamping their
feet on the floor in time with the music:
`We’ve both been there before,
Many a time, many a time!
We’ve both been there before,
Many a time!
Where many a gallon of beer has gone.
To colour his nose and mine,
We’ve both been there before,
Many a time, many a time!’
At the conclusion of the singing, Bert turned another picture into
view.
`‘Ere we ‘ave another election scene. At each side we see the two
candidates the same as in the last pitcher. In the middle of the road
we see a man lying on the ground, covered with blood, with a lot of
Liberal and Tory working men kickin’ ‘im, jumpin’ on ‘im, and stampin’
on ‘is face with their ‘obnailed boots. The bloke on the ground is a
Socialist, and the reason why they’re kickin’ ‘is face in is because
‘e said that the only difference between Slumrent and Mandriver was
that they was both alike.’
While the audience were admiring this picture, Bert played another
well-known tune, and the children sang the words:
`Two lovely black eyes,
Oh what a surprise!
Only for telling a man he was wrong,
Two lovely black eyes.’
Bert continued to turn the handles of the rollers and a long
succession of pictures passed across the stage, to the delight of the
children, who cheered and sang as occasion demanded, but the most
enthusiastic outburst of all greeted the appearance of the final
picture, which was a portrait of the King. Directly the children saw
it - without waiting for the band - they gave three cheers and began
to sing the chorus of the National Anthem.
A round of applause for Bert concluded the Pandorama performance; the
lamp and the candles of the Christmas tree were relit - for although
all the toys had been taken off, the tree still made a fine show with
the shining glass ornaments - and then they had some more games; blind
man’s buff, a tug-of-war - in which Philpot was defeated with great
laughter - and a lot of other games. And when they were tired of
these, each child `said a piece’ or sung a song, learnt specially for
the occasion. The only one who had not come prepared in this respect
was little Rosie, and even she - so as to be the same as the others -
insisted on reciting the only piece she knew. Kneeling on the
hearthrug, she put her hands together, palm to palm, and shutting her
eyes very tightly she repeated the verse she always said every night
before going to bed:
`Gentle Jesus, meek and mild,
Look on me, a little child.
Pity my simplicity,
Suffer me to come to Thee.’
Then she stood up and kissed everyone in turn, and Philpot crossed
over and began looking out of the window, and coughed, and blew his
nose, because a nut that he had been eating had gone down the wrong
way.
Most of them were by this time quite tired out, so after some supper
the party broke up. Although they were nearly all very sleepy, none
of them were very willing to go, but they were consoled by the thought
of another entertainment to which they were going later on in the
week - the Band of Hope Tea and Prize Distribution at the Shining
Light Chapel.
Bert undertook to see Elsie and Charley safely home, and Philpot
volunteered to accompany Nellie and Tommy Newman, and to carry Rosie,
who was so tired that she fell asleep on his shoulder before they left
the house.
As they were going down the stairs Frankie held a hurried consultation
with his mother, with the result that he was able to shout after them
an invitation to come again next Christmas.
The Brigands hold a Council of War
It being now what is usually called the festive season - possibly
because at this period of the year a greater number of people are
suffering from hunger and cold than at any other time - the reader
will not be surprised at being invited to another little party which
took place on the day after the one we have just left. The scene was
Mr Sweater’s office. Mr Sweater was seated at his desk, but with his
chair swung round to enable him to face his guests - Messrs Rushton,
Didlum, and Grinder, who were also seated.
`Something will ‘ave to be done, and that very soon,’ Grinder was
saying. `We can’t go on much longer as we’re doing at present. For
my part, I think the best thing to do is to chuck up the sponge at
once; the company is practically bankrupt now, and the longer we waits
the worser it will be.’
`That’s just my opinion,’ said Didlum dejectedly. `If we could supply
the electric light at the same price as gas, or a little cheaper, we
might have some chance; but we can’t do it. The fact is that the
machinery we’ve got is no dam good; it’s too small and it’s wore out,
consequently the light we supply is inferior to gas and costs more.’
`Yes, I think we’re fairly beaten this time,’ said Rushton. `Why,
even if the Gas Coy hadn’t moved their works beyond the borough
boundary, still we shouldn’t ‘ave been hable to compete with ‘em.’
`Of course not,’ said Grinder. `The truth of the matter is just wot
Didlum says. Our machinery is too small, it’s worn hout, and good for
nothing but to be throwed on the scrap-heap. So there’s only one
thing left to do and that is - go into liquidation.’
`I don’t see it,’ remarked Sweater.
`Well, what do you propose, then?’ demanded Grinder. `Reconstruct the
company? Ask the shareholders for more money? Pull down the works
and build fresh, and buy some new machinery? And then most likely not
make a do of it after all? Not for me, old chap! I’ve ‘ad enough.
You won’t catch me chuckin’ good money after bad in that way.’
`Nor me neither,’ said Rushton.
`Dead orf!’ remarked Didlum, very decidedly.
Sweater laughed quietly. `I’m not such a fool as to suggest anything
of that sort,’ he said. `You seem to forget that I am one of the
largest shareholders myself. No. What I propose is that we Sell
Out.’
`Sell out!’ replied Grinder with a contemptuous laugh in which the
others joined. `Who’s going to buy the shares of a concern that’s
practically bankrupt and never paid a dividend?’
`I’ve tried to sell my little lot several times already,’ said Didlum
with a sickly smile, `but nobody won’t buy ‘em.’
`Who’s to buy?’ repeated Sweater, replying to Grinder. `The
municipality of course! The ratepayers. Why shouldn’t Mugsborough go
in for Socialism as well as other towns?’
Rushton, Didlum and Grinder fairly gasped for breath: the audacity of
the chief’s proposal nearly paralysed them.
`I’m afraid we should never git away with it,’ ejaculated Didlum, as
soon as he could speak. `When the people tumbled to it, there’d be no
hend of a row.’
`PEOPLE! ROW!’ replied Sweater, scornfully. `The majority of the
people will never know anything about it! Listen to me -‘
`Are you quite sure as we can’t be over’eard?’ interrupted Rushton,
glancing nervously at the door and round the office.
`It’s all right,’ answered Sweater, who nevertheless lowered his voice
almost to a whisper, and the others drew their chairs closer and bent
forward to listen.
`You know we still have a little money in hand: well, what I propose
is this: At the annual meeting, which, as you know, comes off next
week, we’ll arrange for the Secretary to read a highly satisfactory
report, and we’ll declare a dividend of 15 per cent - we can arrange
it somehow between us. Of course, we’ll have to cook the accounts a
little, but I’ll see that it’s done properly. The other shareholders
are not going to ask any awkward questions, and we all understand each
other.’
Sweater paused, and regarded the other three brigands intently. `Do
you follow me?’ he asked.
`Yes, yes,’ said Didlum eagerly. `Go on with it.’ And Rushton and
Grinder nodded assent.
`Afterwards,’ resumed Sweater, `I’ll arrange for a good report of the
meeting to appear in the Weekly Ananias. I’ll instruct the Editor to
write it himself, and I’ll tell him just what to say. I’ll also get
him to write a leading article about it, saying that electricity is
sure to supersede gas for lighting purposes in the very near future.
Then the article will go on to refer to the huge profits made by the
Gas Coy and to say how much better it would have been if the town had
bought the gasworks years ago, so that those profits might have been
used to reduce the rates, the same as has been done in other towns.
Finally, the article will declare that it’s a great pity that the
Electric Light Supply should be in the hands of a private company, and
to suggest that an effort be made to acquire it for the town.
`In the meantime we can all go about - in a very quiet and judicious
way, of course - bragging about what a good thing we’ve got, and
saying we don’t mean to sell. We shall say that we’ve overcome all
the initial expenses and difficulties connected with the installation
of the works - that we are only just beginning to reap the reward of
our industry and enterprise, and so on.
`Then,’ continued the Chief, `we can arrange for it to be proposed in
the Council that the Town should purchase the Electric Light Works.’
`But not by one of us four, you know,’ said Grinder with a cunning
leer.
`Certainly not; that would give the show away at once. There are, as
you know - several members of the Band who are not shareholders in the
company; we’ll get some of them to do most of the talking. We, being
the directors of the company, must pretend to be against selling, and
stick out for our own price; and when we do finally consent we must
make out that we are sacrificing our private interests for the good of
the Town. We’ll get a committee appointed - we’ll have an expert
engineer down from London - I know a man that will suit our purpose
admirably - we’ll pay him a trifle and he’ll say whatever we tell him
to - and we’ll rush the whole business through before you can say
“Jack Robinson”, and before the ratepayers have time to realize
what’s being done. Not that we need worry ourselves much about them.
Most of them take no interest in public affairs, but even if there is
something said, it won’t matter much to us once we’ve got the money.
It’ll be a nine days’ wonder and then we’ll hear no more of it.’
As the Chief ceased speaking, the other brigands also remained silent,
speechless with admiration of his cleverness.
`Well, what do you think of it?’ he asked.
`Think of it!’ cried Grinder, enthusiastically. `I think it’s
splendid! Nothing could be better.
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