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

clothing for himself, because most of those to whom he gave them were

by no means grateful; but he never thought of that; and after all,

nearly everyone spends money on some hobby or other. Some people deny

themselves the necessaries or comforts of life in order that they may

be able to help to fatten a publican. Others deny themselves in order

to enable a lazy parson to live in idleness and luxury; and others

spend much time and money that they really need for themselves in

buying Socialist literature to give away to people who don’t want to

know about Socialism.

One Sunday morning towards the end of July, a band of about

twenty-five men and women on bicycles invaded the town. Two of them -

who rode a few yards in front of the others, had affixed to the

handlebars of each of their machines a slender, upright standard from

the top of one of which fluttered a small flag of crimson silk with

`International Brotherhood and Peace’ in gold letters. The other

standard was similar in size and colour, but with a different legend:

`One for all and All for one.’

As they rode along they gave leaflets to the people in the streets,

and whenever they came to a place where there were many people they

dismounted and walked about, giving their leaflets to whoever would

accept them. They made several long halts during their progress along

the Grand Parade, where there was a considerable crowd, and then they

rode over the hill to Windley, which they reached a little before

opening time. There were little crowds waiting outside the several

public houses and a number of people passing through the streets on

their way home from Church and Chapel. The strangers distributed

leaflets to all those who would take them, and they went through a lot

of the side streets, putting leaflets under the doors and in the

letter-boxes. When they had exhausted their stock they remounted and

rode back the way they came.

Meantime the news of their arrival had spread, and as they returned

through the town they were greeted with jeers and booing. Presently

someone threw a stone, and as there happened to be plenty of stones

just there several others followed suit and began running after the

retreating cyclists, throwing stones, hooting and cursing.

The leaflet which had given rise to all this fury read as follows:

WHAT IS SOCIALISM?

At present the workers, with hand and brain produce continually

food, clothing and all useful and beautiful things in great

abundance.

BUT THEY LABOUR IN VAIN - for they are mostly poor and often in

want. They find it a hard struggle to live. Their women and

children suffer, and their old age is branded with pauperism.

Socialism is a plan by which poverty will be abolished, and

everyone enabled to live in plenty and comfort, with leisure and

opportunity for ampler life.

If you wish to hear more of this plan, come to the field at the

Cross Roads on the hill at Windley, on Tuesday evening next at 8

P.M. and

LOOK OUT FOR THE SOCIALIST VAN

The cyclists rode away amid showers of stones without sustaining much

damage. One had his hand cut and another, who happened to look round,

was struck on the forehead, but these were the only casualties.

On the following Tuesday evening, long before the appointed time,

there was a large crowd assembled at the cross roads or the hill at

Windley, waiting for the appearance of the van, and they were

evidently prepared to give the Socialists a warm reception. There was

only one policeman in uniform there but there were several in plain

clothes amongst the crowd.

Crass, Dick Wantley, the Semidrunk, Sawkins, Bill Bates and several

other frequenters of the Cricketers were amongst the crowd, and there

were also a sprinkling of tradespeople, including the Old Dear and Mr

Smallman, the grocer, and a few ladies and gentlemen - wealthy

visitors - but the bulk of the crowd were working men, labourers,

mechanics and boys.

As it was quite evident that the crowd meant mischief - many of them

had their pockets filled with stones and were armed with sticks -

several of the Socialists were in favour of going to meet the van to

endeavour to persuade those in charge from coming, and with that

object they withdrew from the crowd, which was already regarding them

with menacing looks, and went down the road in the direction from

which the van was expected to come. They had not gone very far,

however, before the people, divining what they were going to do, began

to follow them and while they were hesitating what course to pursue,

the Socialist van, escorted by five or six men on bicycles, appeared

round the corner at the bottom of the hill.

As soon as the crowd saw it, they gave an exultant cheer, or, rather,

yell, and began running down the hilt to meet it, and in a few minutes

it was surrounded by a howling mob. The van was drawn by two horses;

there was a door and a small platform at the back and over this was a

sign with white letters on a red ground: `Socialism, the only hope of

the Workers.’

The driver pulled up, and another man on the platform at the rear

attempted to address the crowd, but his voice was inaudible in the din

of howls, catcalls, hooting and obscene curses. After about an hour

of this, as the crowd began pushing against the van and trying to

overturn it, the terrified horses commenced to get restive and

uncontrollable, and the man on the box attempted to drive up the hill.

This seemed to still further infuriate the horde of savages who

surrounded the van. Numbers of them clutched the wheels and turned

them the reverse way, screaming that it must go back to where it came

from; several of them accordingly seized the horses’ heads and, amid

cheers, turned them round.

The man on the platform was still trying to make himself heard, but

without success. The strangers who had come with the van and the

little group of local Socialists, who had forced their way through the

crowd and gathered together close to the platform in front of the

would-be speaker, only increased the din by their shouts of appeal to

the crowd to `give the man a fair chance’. This little bodyguard

closed round the van as it began to move slowly downhill, but they

were not sufficiently numerous to protect it from the crowd, which,

not being satisfied with the rate at which the van was proceeding,

began to shout to each other to `Run it away!’ `Take the brake off!’

and several savage rushes were made with the intention of putting

these suggestions into execution.

Some of the defenders were hampered with their bicycles, but they

resisted as well as they were able, and succeeded in keeping the crowd

off until the foot of the hill was reached, and then someone threw the

first stone, which by a strange chance happened to strike one of the

cyclists whose head was already bandaged - it was the same man who had

been hit on the Sunday. This stone was soon followed by others, and

the man on the platform was the next to be struck. He got it right on

the mouth, and as he put up his handkerchief to staunch the blood

another struck him on the forehead just above the temple, and he

dropped forward on his face on to the platform as if he had been shot.

As the speed of the vehicle increased, a regular hail of stones fell

upon the roof and against the sides of the van and whizzed past the

retreating cyclists, while the crowd followed close behind, cheering,

shrieking out volleys of obscene curses, and howling like wolves.

`We’ll give the b—rs Socialism!’ shouted Crass, who was literally

foaming at the mouth.

`We’ll teach ‘em to come ‘ere trying to undermined our bloody

morality,’ howled Dick Wantley as he hurled a lump of granite that he

had torn up from the macadamized road at one of the cyclists.

They ran on after the van until it was out of range, and then they

bethought themselves of the local Socialists; but they were nowhere to

be seen; they had prudently withdrawn as soon as the van had got

fairly under way, and the victory being complete, the upholders of the

present system returned to the piece of waste ground on the top of the

hill, where a gentleman in a silk hat and frockcoat stood up on a

little hillock and made a speech. He said nothing about the Distress

Committee or the Soup Kitchen or the children who went to school

without proper clothes or food, and made no reference to what was to

be done next winter, when nearly everybody would be out of work.

These were matters he and they were evidently not at all interested

in. But he said a good deal about the Glorious Empire! and the Flag!

and the Royal Family. The things he said were received with rapturous

applause, and at the conclusion of his address, the crowd sang the

National Anthem with great enthusiasm and dispersed, congratulating

themselves that they had shown to the best of their ability what

Mugsborough thought of Socialism and the general opinion of the crowd

was that they would hear nothing more from the Socialist van.

But in this they were mistaken, for the very next Sunday evening a

crowd of Socialists suddenly materialized at the Cross Roads. Some of

them had come by train, others had walked from different places and

some had cycled.

A crowd gathered and the Socialists held a meeting, two speeches being

delivered before the crowd recovered from their surprise at the

temerity of these other Britishers who apparently had not sense enough

to understand that they had been finally defeated and obliterated last

Tuesday evening: and when the cyclist with the bandaged head got up on

the hillock some of the crowd actually joined in the hand-clapping

with which the Socialists greeted him.

In the course of his speech he informed them that the man who had come

with the van and who had been felled whilst attempting to speak from

the platform was now in hospital. For some time it had been probable

that he would not recover, but he was now out of danger, and as soon

as he was well enough there was no doubt that he would come there

again.

Upon this Crass shouted out that if ever the Vanners did return, they

would finish what they had begun last Tuesday. He would not get off

so easy next time. But when he said this, Crass - not being able to

see into the future - did not know what the reader will learn in due

time, that the man was to return to that place under different

circumstances.

When they had finished their speechmaking one of the strangers who

was acting as chairman invited the audience to put questions, but as

nobody wanted to ask any, he invited anyone who disagreed with what

had been said to get up on the hillock and state his objections, so

that the audience might have an opportunity of judging for themselves

which side was right; but this invitation was also neglected. Then

the chairman announced that they were coming there again next Sunday

at the same time, when a comrade would speak on `Unemployment and

Poverty, the Cause and the Remedy’, and then the strangers sang a song

called `England Arise’, the first verse being:

England