# Ragged Trousered Philanthropists/Chapter 20

CHAPTER XX
The Slaughter
The lecture announced by Philpot was not delivered. The men had had a surfeit of what they called politics; besides they had something even more disagreeable to think about—the impending slaughter.
About three o'clock in the afternoon Misery arrived and informed all the hands with the exception of Crass, Owen, Slyme and Sawkins that they would have to stand off that night. He told them that the firm had several jobs in view, work they had tendered for and hoped to get, and said they could look round after Christmas and he might, possibly, be able to start some of them again. They would be paid at the office to-morrow—Saturday—at one o'clock as usual, but if any of them wished they could have their money that night. The men thanked him, and most of them said they would come for their wages at the usual pay time and would call round, as he suggested, after the holidays to see if there was anything to do.
In all fifteen men, including Philpot, Harlow, Easton and Ned Dawson, were to 'stand off.' They took their dismissal stolidly, without any remark, some of them even with an affectation of indifference, but there were few attempts at conversation afterwards. The little work that remained to be done was done in silence, every man oppressed by the same terror—the dread of the impending privation and unhappiness which they and their families would have to suffer during the next few months.
Bundy and his mate Dawson were working in the kitchen fixing the new range in place of the old one which they had taken out. They had been engaged on this job all day, and their hands and faces and clothes were covered with soot, which they had also contrived to smear and dab all over the surfaces of the doors and other woodwork in the room, much ​to the indignation of Crass and Slyme, who had to wash it all off before they could put on the final coat of paint.
'You can't help makin' a little mess on a job of this kind, you know,' remarked Bundy, as he was giving the finishing touches to the work, making good the broken parts of the wall with cement, whilst his mate was clearing away the débris.
'Yes, but there's no need to claw 'old of the bloody doors every time you goes in and out,' snarled Crass; 'and you could 'ave put yer tools on the floor instead of makin' a bench of the dresser.'
'You can 'ave the bloody place all to yerself in about five minutes,' replied Bundy, as he assisted to lift a sack of cement weighing about two hundredweight on to Dawson's back. 'We're finished now.'
When they had cleared away all the dirt and fragments of bricks and mortar, while Crass and Slyme proceeded with the painting, Bundy and Dawson loaded up their hand-cart with the old range and the bags of unused cement and plaster, which they took back to the yard. Meantime, Misery was wandering about the house and grounds like an evil spirit seeking rest and finding none. He stood for some time gloomily watching the four gardeners, who were busily at work laying strips of turf, mowing the lawn, rolling the gravel paths and trimming the trees and bushes. The boy Bert, Philpot, Harlow, Easton and Sawkins were loading a hand-cart with ladders and empty paint pots to return to the yard. Just as they were setting out Misery stopped them, remarking that the cart was not half loaded. He said it would take a month to get all the stuff away if they went on like that; so by his direction they placed another long ladder on top of the pile and once more started on their way. But before they had gone two dozen yards one of the wheels of the cart collapsed and the load was scattered over the roadway. Bert was at the same side of the cart as the wheel that broke and he was thrown violently to the ground, where he lay half stunned, in the midst of the ladders and planks. When they got him out they were astonished to find that, thanks to the special Providence that watches over all small boys, he was almost unhurt—just a little dazed, that was all; and by the time Sawkins returned with another cart, he was able to help to gather up the fallen paint pots and to accompany the men ​with the load to the yard. At the corner of the road they paused to take a last look at the 'job.'
'There it stands!' said Harlow, tragically extending his arm towards the house. 'There it stands! A job that if they'd only have let us do it properly couldn't 'ave been done with the number of 'ands we've 'ad in less than four months! And there it is, finished, messed up, slobbered over and scamped, in nine weeks!'
'Yes, and now we can all go to 'ell.' said Philpot, gloomily.
At the yard they found Bundy and his mate, Ned Dawson, who helped them to hang up the ladders in their usual places. Philpot was glad to get out of assisting to do this for he had contracted a rather severe attack of rheumatism when working outside at the 'Cave.' Whilst the others were putting the ladders away he assisted Bert to carry the paint pots and buckets into the paint shop, where he filled a small medicine bottle he had brought with him for the purpose with turpentine from the tank. He wanted this stuff to rub into his shoulders and legs, and as he secreted the bottle in the inner pocket of his coat, he muttered: 'This is where we gets some of our own back.'
They took the key of the yard to the office, and as they separated to go home Bundy suggested that the best thing they could do would be to sew their bloody mouths up for a few months because there was not much probability of their getting another job until about March.
The next morning while Crass and Slyme were finishing inside Owen wrote the two gates, on the front entrance, 'The Cave,' and on the back, 'Tradesmen's Entrance,' in gilded letters. In the meantime Sawkins and Bert made several journeys to the yard with the hand-cart.
Crass, working in the kitchen with Slyme, was very silent and thoughtful. Ever since the job was started, every time Mr Sweater had visited the house to see what progress was being made Crass had been grovelling to him in the hope of receiving a tip when the work was finished. He had been very careful to act upon any suggestions that Sweater had made, and had taken a lot of trouble to get just the right tints of certain colours, making up a number of different shades and combinations, and doing parts of the skirtings or mouldings of rooms in order that Mr Sweater might see exactly what it would look like when finished. He made a great ​pretence of deferring to Sweater's opinion, and assured him that he did not care how much trouble he took as long as he was pleased. As the work neared completion Crass began to speculate upon the probable amount of the donation he would receive as the reward of nine weeks of cringing, fawning, abject servility. He thought it quite possible that he might get a quid! It would not be too much, considering all the trouble he had taken. At any rate he felt certain that he was sure to get ten bob: a gentleman like Mr Sweater would never have the cheek to offer less. The more he thought about it the more improbable it appeared that the amount would be less than a quid, and he made up his mind that whatever he got he would take good care that none of the other men knew anything about it. He was the one who had had all the worry of the job, and he was the only one entitled to anything there was to be had. Besides, by the time a quid was divided up amongst a dozen, or even two or three, it would not be worth having.
At about eleven o'clock Mr Sweater arrived and began to walk over the house, followed by Crass, who carried a pot of paint and a small brush and made believe to be 'touching up' and finishing off parts of the work. As Sweater went from one room to another Crass repeatedly placed himself in the way in the hope of being spoken to, but Sweater took no notice of him whatever. Once or twice Grass's heart began to beat quickly as he furtively watched the great man and saw him thrust his thumb and finger into his waistcoat pocket; but on each occasion Sweater withdrew his hand with nothing in it. After a while, observing that the gentleman was about to depart without having spoken, Crass determined to break the ice himself.
'It's a little better weather we're 'avin' now, sir.'
'Yes.' replied Sweater.
'I was beginnin' to be afraid as I shouldn't be hable to git heverything finished in time for you to move in before Christmas, sir,' Crass continued; 'but it's hall done now, sir.'
Sweater made no reply.
'I've kep the fires agoin' in hall the rooms, has you told me, sir.' resumed Crass, after a pause. 'I think you'll find as the place is nice and dry, sir; the honly places as is a bit damp is the kitching and scullery and the other rooms in the ​basement, sir, but of course that's nearly halways the case sir, when the rooms is partly hunder ground, sir. But of course it don't matter so much about the basement, sir,' he continued, 'because it's honly the servants what 'as to use it, sir, and even down there it'll be hall right hin the summer, sir.'
One would scarcely have guessed from the contemptuous way in which Crass spoke of 'servants' that his own daughter was 'in service.'
'Oh, yes; there's no doubt about that,' replied Sweater as he moved towards the front door; 'there's no doubt it will be dry enough in the summer. Good morning.'
'Good morning to you, sir,' said Crass, following him. 'I 'opes as you're pleased with all the work, sir; everything satisfactory, sir.'
'Oh, yes, I think it looks very nice; very nice indeed; I'm very pleased with it,' said Sweater affably. 'Good morning.'
'Good morning, sir,' replied the foreman with a sickly smile, as Sweater departed.
Crass sat down dejectedly on the bottom step of the stairs, overwhelmed by the ruin of his expectations. There was just a chance yet, as he would have to come to the house on Monday and Tuesday to fix the venetian blinds. But it was a forlorn hope as Sweater rarely visited the job early in the week, and if he had meant to give anything he would have done so that day. Still, pulling himself together, Crass determined to hope for the best and returned to the kitchen. He had not mentioned his expectations of a tip to his mates, but they eyed him keenly as he entered, fully determined to get their share.
'What did 'e give yer?' demanded Sawkins going straight to the point.
'Give me?' replied Crass. 'Nothink!'
Slyme laughed in a sneering, incredulous way, but Sawkins was inclined to be abusive. He averred that he had been watching Crass and Sweater and had seen the latter put his thumb and finger into his waistcoat pocket as he walked into the dining-room followed by Crass. It took the latter a long time to convince them of the truth of his own account, but he succeeded at last, and they all three agreed that Old Sweater was a sanguinary rotter, and lamented over the decay of the good old fashioned customs.
​By half-past twelve everything was squared up, and having loaded up the cart they set out together for the yard. It was an unusually fine day for the time of year, and as they passed along the Grand Parade, which faced due south, they felt quite warm. The Parade was crowded with richly dressed people, whose countenances in many instances bore unmistakable signs of gluttony and excess. 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 were 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 carriage way, dressed in mean and shabby clothing and with faces pale with privation. Many of these latter were known to Crass and his mates with the cart, and nodded to them as they passed or came over and walked a little distance by their side, enquiring whether there was any news of another job at Rushton's.
When they were about half way down the Parade, just near the Fountain, they 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 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 artizans in the procession, the majority of the men belonged to what is called the unskilled labourer class. The skilled artizan does not as a rule take part in such a procession except as a last resource. There was also a sprinkling of the unfortunate outcasts of society, tramps and destitute loafers.
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 they are 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 good mechanics among them.'
'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 they 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 this 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. There would be 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's 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 blighters 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 rate-payers 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 paint shop 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.