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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I reckon it’ll be one of the smartest thing we’ve ever done.’
`Smart ain’t the word for it,’ observed Rushton.
`There’s no doubt it’s a grand idear!’ exclaimed Didlum, `and I’ve
just thought of something else that might be done to help it along.
We could arrange to ‘ave a lot of letters sent “To the Editor of the
Obscurer” and “To the Editor of the Ananias,” and “To the Editor of
the Weekly Chloroform” in favour of the scheme.’
`Yes, that’s a very good idea,’ said Grinder. `For that matter the
editors could write them to themselves and sign them “Progress”,
“Ratepayer”, “Advance Mugsborough”, and sich-like.’
`Yes, that’s all right,’ said the Chief, thoughtfully, `but we must be
careful not to overdo it; of course there will have to be a certain
amount of publicity, but we don’t want to create too much interest in
it.’
`Come to think of it,’ observed Rushton arrogantly, `why should we
trouble ourselves about the opinion of the ratepayers at all? Why
should we trouble to fake the books, or declare a dividend or ‘ave the
harticles in the papers or anything else? We’ve got the game in our
own ‘ands; we’ve got a majority in the Council, and, as Mr Sweater
ses, very few people even take the trouble to read the reports of the
meetings.’
`Yes, that’s right enough,’ said Grinder. `But it’s just them few wot
would make a lot of trouble and talk; THEY’RE the very people we ‘as
to think about. If we can only manage to put THEM in a fog we’ll be
all right, and the way to do it is as Mr Sweater proposes.’
`Yes, I think so,’ said the Chief. `We must be very careful. I can
work it all right in the Ananias and the Chloroform, and of course
you’ll see that the Obscurer backs us up.’
`I’ll take care of that,’ said Grinder, grimly.
The three local papers were run by limited companies. Sweater held
nearly all the shares of the Ananias and of the Weekly Chloroform, and
controlled their policy and contents. Grinder occupied the same
position with regard to the Obscurer. The editors were a sort of
marionettes who danced as Sweater and Grinder pulled the strings.
`I wonder how Dr Weakling will take it?’ remarked Rushton.
`That’s the very thing I was just thinkin’ about,’ cried Didlum.
`Don’t you think it would be a good plan if we could arrange to ‘ave
somebody took bad - you know, fall down in a fit or something in the
street just outside the Town ‘All just before the matter is brought
forward in the Council, and then ‘ave someone to come and call ‘im out
to attend to the party wot’s ill, and keep ‘im out till the business
is done.’
`Yes, that’s a capital idear,’ said Grinder thoughtfully. `But who
could we get to ‘ave the fit? It would ‘ave to be someone we could
trust, you know.’
`‘Ow about Rushton? You wouldn’t mind doin’ it, would yer?’ inquired
Didlum.
`I should strongly object,’ said Rushton haughtily. He regarded the
suggestion that he should act such an undignified part, as a kind of
sacrilege.
`Then I’ll do it meself if necessary,’ said Didlum. `I’m not proud
when there’s money to be made; anything for an honest living.’
`Well, I think we’re all agreed, so far,’ remarked Sweater. The
others signified assent.
`And I think we all deserve a drink,’ the Chief continued, producing a
decanter and a box of cigars from a cupboard by the side of his desk.
`Pass that water bottle from behind you, Didlum.’
`I suppose nobody won’t be comin’ in?’ said the latter, anxiously.
`I’m a teetotaler, you know.’
`Oh, it’s all right,’ said Sweater, taking four glasses out of the
cupboard and pouring out the whisky. `I’ve given orders that we’re
not to be disturbed for anyone. Say when.’
`Well, ‘ere’s success to Socialism,’ cried Grinder, raising his glass,
and taking a big drink.
`Amen - ‘ear, ‘ear, I mean,’ said Didlum, hastily correcting himself.
`Wot I likes about this ‘ere business is that we’re not only doin’
ourselves a bit of good,’ continued Grinder with a laugh, `we’re not
only doin’ ourselves a bit of good, but we’re likewise doin’ the
Socialists a lot of ‘arm. When the ratepayers ‘ave bought the Works,
and they begins to kick up a row because they’re losin’ money over it -
we can tell ‘em that it’s Socialism! And then they’ll say that if
that’s Socialism they don’t want no more of it.’
The other brigands laughed gleefully, and some of Didlum’s whisky went
down the wrong way and nearly sent him into a fit.
`You might as well kill a man at once,’ he protested as he wiped the
tears from his eyes, `you might as well kill a man at once as choke
‘im to death.’
`And now I’ve got a bit of good news for you,’ said the Chief as he
put his empty glass down.
The others became serious at once.
`Although we’ve had a very rough time of it in our contest with the
Gasworks Company, and although we’ve got the worst of it, it hasn’t
been all lavender for them, you know. They’ve not enjoyed themselves
either: we hit them pretty hard when we put up the coal dues.’
`A damn good job too,’ said Grinder malignantly.
`Well,’ continued Sweater, `they’re just as sick of the fight as they
want to be, because of course they don’t know exactly how badly we’ve
been hit. For all they know, we could have continued the struggle
indefinitely: and - well, to make a long story short, I’ve had a talk
with the managing director and one or two others, and they’re willing
to let us in with them. So that we can put the money we get for the
Electric Light Works into gas shares!’
This was such splendid news that they had another drink on the
strength of it, and Didlum said that one of the first things they
would have to do would be to totally abolish the Coal Dues, because
they pressed so hard on the poor.
The Deserter
About the end of January, Slyme left Easton’s. The latter had not
succeeded in getting anything to do since the work at `The Cave’ was
finished, and latterly the quality of the food had been falling off.
The twelve shillings Slyme paid for his board and lodging was all that
Ruth had to keep house with. She had tried to get some work to do
herself, but generally without success; there were one or two jobs
that she might have had if she had been able to give her whole time to
them, but of course that was not possible; the child and the housework
had to be attended to, and Slyme’s meals had to be prepared.
Nevertheless, she contrived to get away several times when she had a
chance of earning a few shillings by doing a day’s charing for some
lady or other, and then she left everything in such order at home that
Easton was able to manage all right while she was away. On these
occasions, she usually left the baby with Owen’s wife, who was an old
schoolmate of hers. Nora was the more willing to render her this
service because Frankie used to be so highly delighted whenever it
happened. He never tired of playing with the child, and for several
days afterwards he used to worry his mother with entreaties to buy a
baby of their own.
Easton earned a few shillings occasionally; now and then he got a job
to clean windows, and once or twice he did a few days’ or hours’ work
with some other painter who had been fortunate enough to get a little
job `on his own’ - such as a ceiling to wash and whiten, or a room or
two to paint; but such jobs were few.
Sometimes, when they were very hard up, they sold something; the Bible
that used to lie on the little table in the bay window was one of the
first things to be parted with. Ruth erased the inscription from the
flyleaf and then they sold the book at a second-hand shop for two
shillings. As time went on, they sold nearly everything that was
saleable, except of course, the things that were obtained on the hire
system.
Slyme could see that they were getting very much into debt and behind
with the rent, and on two occasions already Easton had borrowed five
shillings from him, which he might never be able to pay back. Another
thing was that Slyme was always in fear that Ruth - who had never
wholly abandoned herself to wrongdoing - might tell Easton what had
happened; more than once she had talked of doing so, and the principal
reason why she refrained was that she knew that even if he forgave
her, he could never think the same of her as before. Slyme repeatedly
urged this view upon her, pointing out that no good could result from
such a confession.
Latterly the house had become very uncomfortable. It was not only
that the food was bad and that sometimes there was no fire, but Ruth
and Easton were nearly always quarrelling about something or other.
She scarcely spoke to Slyme at all, and avoided sitting at the table
with him whenever possible. He was in constant dread that Easton
might notice her manner towards him, and seek for some explanation.
Altogether the situation was so unpleasant that Slyme determined to
clear out. He made the excuse that he had been offered a few weeks’
work at a place some little distance outside the town. After he was
gone they lived for several weeks in semi-starvation on what credit
they could get and by selling the furniture or anything else they
possessed that could be turned into money. The things out of Slyme’s
room were sold almost directly he left.
The Veteran
Old Jack Linden had tried hard to earn a little money by selling
bloaters, but they often went bad, and even when he managed to sell
them all the profit was so slight that it was not worth doing.
Before the work at `The Cave’ was finished, Philpot was a good friend
to them; he frequently gave old Jack sixpence or a shilling and often
brought a bag off cakes or buns for the children. Sometimes he came
to tea with them on Sundays as an excuse for bringing a tin of
salmon.
Elsie and Charley frequently went to Owen’s house to take tea with
Frankie; in fact, whilst Owen had anything to do, they almost lived
there, for both Owen and Nora, knowing that the Lindens had nothing to
live on except the earnings of the young woman, encouraged the
children to come often.
Old Jack made some hopeless attempts to get work - work of any kind,
but nobody wanted him; and to make things worse, his eyesight, which
had been failing for a long time, became very bad. Once he was given
a job by a big provision firm to carry an advertisement about the
streets. The man who had been carrying it before - an old soldier -
had been sacked the previous day for getting drunk while on duty. The
advertisement was not an ordinary pair of sandwich boards, but a sort
of box without any bottom or lid, a wooden frame, four sides covered
with canvas, an which were pasted printed bills advertising
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