 Chapter 44 Part 2 of the Ragged Trousers Philanthropists. When Grinder sat down some of those who had applauded him began to jeer at the socialists. What have you got to say to that? They shouted. That's up against you. They ain't got nothing to say now. Why don't somebody get up and make a speech? This last appeared to be a very good idea to those liberals and tories who had not liked Grinder's observations, so they all began to shout, Owen, Owen, come on here, get up and make a speech. Be a man! And so on. Several of those who had been loudest in applauding Grinder also joined in the demand that Owen should make a speech, because they were certain that Grinder and the other gentlemen would be able to dispose of all his arguments. But Owen and the other socialists made no response except to laugh, so presently crass tied a white-hanker-chief on a cane-walking stick that belonged to Mr. Didlem, and stuck it in the vase of flowers that stood on the end of the table where the socialists' group were sitting. When the noise had in some measure ceased, Grinder rose again. When I made the few remarks that I did, I didn't know if there was any socialists here. I could tell from the luckier that most of you had more sense. At the same time, I'm rather glad I said what I did, because it just shows you what sort of chap these socialists are. They're pretty artful. They know when to talk and when to keep them out shut. What they like is to get hold of a few ignorant working men in a workshop or a public house, and then they can talk with a mile. Regular shop-loyers, you know what I mean. I'm right, and everybody else is wrong. Laughter. You know the sort of thing I mean. When they find their selves in the company of educated people, what knows a little more than they do their selves, and who isn't likely to be led by a lot of claptrap, have we then mums the word. So next time you hear any of these shop-loyers' arguments, you'll know how much it's worth. Most of the men were delighted with this speech, which was received with much laughing and knocking on the tables. They remarked to each other that Grinder was a smart man. He'd got the socialists weighed up just about right to announce. Then it was seen that Barrington was on his feet facing Grinder, and a sudden awe-filled silence fell. It may or may not be true, began Barrington, that socialists always know when to speak and when to keep silent, but the present occasion hardly seems a suitable one to discuss such subjects. We are here today as friends and want to forget our differences and enjoy ourselves for a few hours, but after what Mr. Grinder has said, I am quite ready to reply to him to the best of my ability. The fact that I'm a socialist and that I'm here today as one of Mr. Ruskin's employees should be an answer to the charge that socialists are too lazy to work for their living, and has to take advantage of the ignorance and simplicity of worker men and try to mislead them with nonsensical claptrap. It would have been more to the point if Mr. Grinder had taken some particular socialist doctrine and had proved it to be untrue or misleading, instead of adopting the cowardly method of making vague general charges that he cannot substantiate. He would find it far more difficult to do that than it would be for a socialist to show that most of what Mr. Grinder himself has been telling us is nonsensical claptrap of the most misleading kind. He tells us that the employers work with their brains and the men with their hands. If it's true that no brains are required to do manual labour, then why put idiots into imbecile asylums? Why not let them do some of the hand-work for which no brains are required? As they're idiots they would probably be willing to work for even less than the ideal living wage. If Mr. Grinder had ever tried, he would know that manual workers have to concentrate their minds and their attention on their work, or they would not be able to do it at all. His talk about employers being not only the masses, but the friends of their workmen is also mere claptrap, because he knows as well as we do that no matter how good or benevolent an employer may be, no matter how much he might desire to give his men good conditions, it's impossible for him to do so, to compete against other employers who do not do that. It's a bad employer, the sweating, slave-driving employer who sets the pace, and the others have to adopt the same methods, very often against their inclinations, or they would not be able to compete with him. If any employer today were to resolve to pay his workmen not less wages that he would be able to live upon and comfort himself, that he would not require them to do more work in a day than he himself would like to perform every day of his own life, Mr. Grinder knows very well as we do that such an employer would be bankrupt in a month, because he would not be able to get any work except by taking it at the same price as the sweaters and the slave-drivers. He also tells us that the interests of masters and men are identical, but if an employer has a contract, it's in his interest to get the work done as soon as possible. The sooner it's done, the more profit he will make, but the more quickly it's done, the sooner the men will be out of employment. How can it be true that their interests are identical? Again, let us suppose that an employer is, say, thirty years of age when he commences business, and that he carries it on for twenty years. Let us assume that he employs forty men more or less regularly during that period, and that the average age of these men is also thirty years at the time the employer commences business. At the end of the twenty years it usually happens that the employer has made enough money to enable him to live for the remainder of his life in ease and comfort. But what about the workman? Through these twenty years, they have earned but a bare living wage and have had to endure such privations that those who are not already dead are broken in health. In the case of the employer, there had been twenty years of steady progress towards ease and leisure and independence. In the case of the majority of the men, there were twenty years of deterioration, twenty years of steady, continuous and hopeless progress towards physical and mental inefficiency, towards the scrap-heap, the workhouse, and premature death. What is it but false, misleading, nonsensical claptrap to say that their interests were identical with those of their employer? Such talk as that is not likely to deceive any but children or fools. We're not children, but it's very evident that Mr. Grinder thinks that we're fools. Occasionally it happens through one or more of a hundred different circumstances over which he has no control or through some error of judgment, that after many years of laborious mental work an employer is overtaken by misfortune and finds himself no better and even worse off than when he started. But these are exceptional cases, and even if he becomes absolutely bankrupt he's no worse off than the majority of the workmen. At the same time it's quite true that the real interests of employers and workmen are the same, but not in the sense that Mr. Grinder would have us believe. Under the existing system of society but of very few people, no matter how well off they may be, can be certain that they or their children will not eventually come to want, even those who think they are secure themselves find their happiness diminished by the knowledge of a poverty and misery that surrounds them on every side. In that sense only is it true that the interests of masters and men are identical, for it is to the interest of all both rich and poor to help to destroy a system that inflicts suffering upon the many and allows true happiness to none. It's to the interest of all to try and find a better way. Here Crass jumped up and interrupted, shouting that they hadn't come here to listen to a lot of speech-making. A remark that was greeted with unbounded applause by most of those present. Loud cries of, resounded through the room, and the semi-drunk suggested that someone should sing a song. The men who had clamoured for a speech from Owen said nothing, and Mr. Grinder, who had been feeling rather uncomfortable, was secretly very glad of the interruption. The semi-drunk's suggestion that someone should sing a song was received with unqualified apprabation by everybody, including Barrington and the other socialists, who desired nothing better than that the time should be passed in a manner suitable to the occasion. The landlord's daughter, a rosy girl of about twenty years of age in a pink print dress, sat down at the piano, and the semi-drunk, taking his place at the side of the instrument and facing the audience, sang the first song with appropriate gestures. The chorus being rendered enthusiastically by the full strength of the company, including misery, from drinking gin and ginger beer. Come, come, come and have a drink with me down by the old bull and bush. Come, come, come and shake hands with me down by the old bull and bush. Watch here, my little German band, fall the diddly doe. Come and take hold of me and. Come, come, come and have a drink with me down by the old bull and bush, bush, bush. Protracted knocking on the tables greeted the end of the song, but as the semi-drunk knew no other verses and choruses, he called upon crass for the next and that gentleman accordingly sang Work Boys Work, to the tune of Tramp, Tramp, Tramp, the boys are marching. As this song is a martial-aise of the tariff reform party, voicing as it does the highest ideals of the Tory workmen of this country, it was an unqualified success for most of them were Conservatives. Now I'm not a wealthy man, but I live upon a plan as happy as a king, and if you will allow, I will sing it to you now, for time, you know, is always on the wing. Work, boys, work, and be contented, so long as you have enough to buy a meal, for if you will but try, you will be wealthy by and by, if you will only put your shoulder to the wheel. All together, boys, shouted Grinder, who was a strong tariff reformer and was delighted to see that most of the men were of the same way of thinking, and the boys rode out the chorus once more. Work, boys, work, and be contented, so long as you have enough to buy a meal, for if you will but try, you'll be wealthy by and by, if you'll only put your shoulder to the wheel. As they sang the words of this noble chorus, the Tories seemed to become inspired with lofty enthusiasm. It is, of course, impossible to say for certain, but probably as they sang there arose before their exalted imaginations of vision of the past, from the long vista of the years that were gone, they saw that from their childhood they had been years of poverty and joyless toil. They saw their fathers and mothers wearied and broken with privation and excessive labour, sinking unhonoured into the welcome oblivion of the grave. And then, as a change came over the spirit of their dream, they saw the future with their own children travelling along the same weary road to the same kind of goal. It is possible that visions of this character were conjured up in their minds by the singing, for the words of the song gave expression to their ideal of what human life should be. That was all they wanted, to be allowed to work like brutes for the benefit of other people. They did not want to be civilised themselves, and they intended to take good care that the children that they had brought into the world should never enjoy the benefits of civilisation either. As they often said, who and what are our children that they shouldn't be made to work for their betters? They're not Gentry's children, are they? The good things in life was never meant for the likes of them. Let them work. That's what the likes of them was made for. And if you can only get tariff reform from they'll always be sure of plenty of it. Not only full-time, but overtime. As for education, travelling in foreign parts and enjoying life and such things as that, they was never meant for the likes of our children. They're meant for Gentry's children. Our children is only like so much dirt compared with Gentry's children. That's what the likes of us is made for. To work for Gentry, so as they can have plenty of time to enjoy themselves. And the Gentry is made to have a good time so as the likes of us can have plenty of work. There were several more verses, and by the time they had sung them all, the Tories were in a state of wild enthusiasm. Even Ned Dawson, who had fallen asleep with his head pillowed on his arms on the table, roused himself up at the end of each verse, and after having joined in the chorus, went to sleep again. At the end of the song, they gave three cheers for tariff reform and plenty of work, and then Crass, who as the singer of the last song, had the right to call upon the next man, nominated Philpot, who received a novation when he stood up, for he was a general favourite. He never did nobody no harm, and he was always willing to do every one a good turn whenever he had the opportunity. Shouts of good old Joe resounded through the room as he crossed over to the piano, and in response to numerous requests for the old song, he began to sing The Flower Show. While it's walking out the other night, not knowing where to go, I saw a bill upon a wall about a flower show, so I thought of flowers I'd go and see to pass away the night, and when I got into that show it was a curious sight. So with your kind intention and a little of your aid, tonight some flowers I'll mention which I hope will never fade. There were several more verses from which it appeared that the principal flowers of the show were the rose, the thistle, and the shamrock. When he had finished, the applause was so deafening and the demands for an encore so persistent that to satisfy them he sang another old favourite. Won't you buy my pretty flowers? Ever coming, ever going, men and women hurried by, heedless of the teardrops gleaming in her sad and wistful eyes, how her little heart is sighing through the cold and dreary hours, only listen to her crying. Won't you buy my pretty flowers? When the last verse of this song had been sung five or six times, Philpot exercised his right of nominating the next singer and called upon Dick Wantley, who with many suggestive gestures and grimaces sang, put me amongst the girls, and afterwards called upon Payne, the four-man carpenter who gave on the Marquess of Camberwell Green there was a lot of what music hall artists called business attached to his song, and as he proceeded, Payne, who was ghastly pale and very nervous, went through a lot of galvanic motions and gestures, bowing and scraping and sliding about and flourishing his handkerchief in imitation of the courtly graces of the Marquess. During his performance the audience maintained an appalling silence which so embarrassed Payne to the song he had to stop because he could not remember the rest. However, to make up for his failure he sang another called We all must die like the fire in the grate. This was also received in a very lukewarm manner by the crowd, some of whom laughed, and others suggested that if he couldn't sing any better than that, the sooner he was dead the better. This was followed by another Tory ballad, the chorus being as followed. His clothes may be ragged, his hands may be soiled, his face if a bread he is toiled. His heart is in the right place, deny it no one can. The backbone of old England is the honest working man. After a few more songs it was decided to adjourn to a field at the rear of the tavern to have a game of cricket. Sides were formed, Rushden, Didlam, Grinder, and the other gentlemen taking part just as if they were only common people and while the game was in progress the rest played ring-quites whilst the remainder amused themselves drinking beer and playing cards and shove hipony in the parlour-bar or taking walks around the village sampling the beer at the other pubs of which there were three. Time passed in this manner until seven o'clock, the hour at which it had been arranged to start on the return journey, but about a quarter of an hour before they set out an unpleasant incident occurred. During the time that they were playing cricket a party of glee-singers consisting of four young girls and five men, three of whom were young fellows, the other two being rather elderly possibly the fathers of some of the younger members of the party, came into the field and sang several songs for their entertainment. Towards the close of the game most of the men had assembled in this field and during a pause in the singing the musicians sent one of their number a shy girl about eighteen years of age who seemed as if she would rather that someone else had the task amongst the crowd to make a collection. They were nervous and blushed as she murmured her request and held out a straw hat that evidently belonged to one of the male members of the glee-party. A few of the men gave pennies, some refused or pretended not to see either the girl or the hat. Others offered to give her some money for a kiss, but what caused the trouble was that two or three of those who had been drinking more of them was good for them, dropped the still-burning ends of the cigars all wet with saliva as they were into the hat, and dick-wantly spit into it. The girl hastily returned to her companions, and as she went some of the men who had witnessed the behaviour of those who had insulted her advised them to make themselves scarce as they stood a good chance of getting a thrashing from the girl's friends. They said it would serve them damn well right if they did get a hammering. Partly sobered by fear, the tree culprits sneaked off and hid themselves, pale and trembling with terror under the box-eats of the three breaks. They had scarcely left when the men of the glee-party came running up, ferociously demanding to see those who had insulted the girl. As they could get no satisfactory answer one of their number ran back and presently returned bringing the girl with them, the other young men following a little way behind. She said she could not see any of the men they were looking for, so they went down to the public-house to see if they could find them there, some of Rushden's men accompanying them and protesting their indignation. The time passed quickly enough, five or six were loaded up again and a start made for the return journey. They called at all the taverns on the road, and by the time they reached the blue lion, half of them were three sheets in the wind, and five or six were very drunk, including the driver of Crass's break and the man with the bugle. The latter was so far gone that they had to let him lie down in the bottom of the carriage amongst their feet, where he fell asleep while the others amused themselves by blowing weird shrieks out of the horn. There was an automatic penny in the slot piano at the blue lion, and, as that was the last house of the road, they made a rather long stop there, playing hooks and rings, shove-happily, drinking, singing, dancing, and finally quarrelling. Several of them seemed disposed to quarrel with new men. All sorts of offensive remarks were made at him in his hearing. Once someone ostentatiously knocked his glass of lemonade over, and a little later someone else collided violently with him, just as he was in the act of drinking, causing his lemonade to spill all over his clothes. The worst of it was that most of those rowdy ones were his fellow passengers in Crass's break, and there was not much chance of getting a seat in either of the other carriages, for they were overcrowded already. From the remarks he overheard from time to time Newman guessed the reason for the hostility, and as their manner towards him grew more menacing, he became so nervous that he began to think of quietly sneaking off and walking his way home by himself, unless he could get somebody in one of the other breaks to change seats with him. Whilst these thoughts were agitating his mind, Dick Wantley suddenly shouted out that he was going to go for it, the dirty tyke who had offered to work on the price last winter. It was his fault that they would all work over six minutes apony, and he was going to wipe the floor with them. Some of his friends eagerly offered to assist, but others interposed, and for a time it looked as if there was going to be a free fight. The aggressors started to get at their inoffensive victim. Eventually, however, Newman found a seat in Misery's break, squatting on the floor with his back to the horses, thankful enough to be out of reach of the drunken savages, who were now lowering out ribald songs and startling the countryside as they drove along, with uneartly blasts on the coach-horn. Meantime, although none of them seemed to notice it, the break was travelling at a furious rate, and swaying about from side to side in a very erratic manner, it would have been the last carriage, but things had got a bit mixed up at the blue lion. Instead of bringing up the rear of the procession, it was now second, just behind the small vehicle containing Rushton and his friends. Crass several times reminded them that the other carriage was so near that Rushton must be able to hear every word that was said. And these repeated admonitions at length enraged the semi-drunk, who shouted out that they didn't care a bugger if he could hear. Who the bloody hell was he trying, Bill Bates, the dressing-crass? You're only a dirty toll-rag. That's all you are, a bloody robber. That's the only reason you get put in charge of jobs, because you're a good nigger-driver. You're a bloody sightwurst and Rushton or misery-eater. Who was at the start of the one man, one room dodge, hey? Who are you, you blader? Knock him off his bleeding perch, suggested Bundy. Everybody seemed to think this was a very good idea. But when the semi-drunk attempted to rise for the purpose of carrying it he was thrown down by a sudden lurch of the carriage on the top of the prostrate figure of the bugle-man, and by the time the others had assisted him back to his seat they had forgotten all about their plan of getting rid of Crass. Meantime the speed of the vehicle had increased to a fearful rate. Rushton and the other occupants of the little wagonette in front had been for some time shouting to them to moderate the pace of their horses, but as the driver of Crass's break was too drunk to understand what they said he took no notice they had no alternative but to increase their own speed to avoid being run down the drunken driver now began to imagine that they were trying to raise him and became fired with the determination to pass them. It was a very narrow road but there was just about room to do it and he had sufficient confidence in his own skill with the ribbons to believe that he could get past in safety. The terrified gesticulations and the shouts of Rushton's party only served to infuriate him because he imagined they were jeering at him for not he stood up on the footboard and lashed the horses till they almost flew over the ground while the carriage swayed and skidded in a fearful manner. In front the horses of Rushton's conveyance were also galloping at top speed the vehicle bounding and reeling from one side of the road to the other whilst the terrified occupants whose faces were blanched with apprehension sat clinging to their seats and to each other the rise projecting from the sockets as they gazed back in horror at their pursuers some of whom were encouraging the drunken driver with promises of quarts of beer and urging on the horses with curses and yells. Crass's fat face was pallid with fear as he clung trembling to his seat. Another man very drunk and oblivious of everything was leaning over the side of the brake spewing into the road while the remainder taking no interest in the race amused themselves by singing conducted by the semi-drunk as loud as they could roar. Has anyone seen a German band German band German band German band I've been looking about pom-pom-pom-pom-pom-pom I search every pub both near and far near and far near and far I want my fritz what plays tiddly bits on the big trombone. The other two brakes had fallen far behind the one presided over by Hunter contained a mournful crew Nimrod himself from the effects of numerous drinks of ginger beer with secret dashes of gin in it had become at length crying drunk sat in weeping and gloomy silence beside the driver a picture of lacrimose misery and but dimly conscious of the surroundings and Slime who rode with Hunter because he was a fellow member of the shining light chapel. Then there was another paper-hanger an unhappy wretch who was afflicted with religious mania he had brought a lot of tracks with him which he had distributed to the other men to the villages of Tuberton and to anyone else who would take them. Most of the other men who rode in the man-type ignorant shallow pated dolts without as much intellectuality as an average cat attendants of the various PSAs and church mission halls who went every Sunday afternoon to be lectured on their duty to their betters and to have their minds save the mark, addled and stultified by such persons as Rushden Sweater, Diddleman Grinder not to mention such mental specialists as the holy reverent Belchers and Boschers and such persons as Starr. At these meetings none of the respectable working men were allowed to ask any questions or to object to or find fault with anything that was said or to argue or discuss or criticize. They had to sit there like a lot of children while they were lectured and preached at and patronized. Even a sheep before their shearers are dumb so they were not permitted to open their mouths. For that matter they did not wish to be allowed to ask any questions or to discuss what they had been able to. They sat there and listened to what was said but they had but a very hazy conception of what it was all about. Most of them belonged to these PSAs merely for the sake of the loaves and fishes. Every now and then they were awarded prizes, self-help by smiles, and other books suitable for perusal by persons suffering from almost complete obliteration of the mental faculties. Besides other benefits there was usually a Christmas club attached to the members slightly below cost as a reward for their civility. They were for the most part tame, broken-spirited poor wretches who contentedly resigned themselves to a life of miserable toil and poverty and with callous indifference abandoned their offspring to the same fate. Compared with such as these the savages of New Guinea or the Red Indians were immensely higher in scale of manhood. They are free. They call no man master and if they did not enjoy the benefits of science and civilization neither do they toil to create these things for the benefit of others and as for their children most of these savages would rather knock them on the head with a tomahawk than allow them to grow up to be half-starved drudges for other men. But these were not free. Their servile lives were spent in groveling and cringing and toiling and running about like little dogs at the behest of their numerous masters and as for the benefit of science and civilization their only share was to work and help to make them and then to watch other men enjoy them and all the time they were tame and quiet and content and said the likes of us can't expect to have nothing better and as for our children what's been good enough for us is good enough for the likes of them. But although they were so religious and respectable and so contented to be robbed on a large scale yet in small matters in the commonplace and petty affairs of their everyday existence most of these men were acutely alive to what their enfeebled minds conceived to be their own selfish interests and they possessed a large share of that singular cunning which characterizes this form of dementia. That was why they had chosen to ride in Nimrod's break because they wished to chum up with them as much as possible in order to increase their chances of being kept on in preference to others who were not so respectable. Some of these poor creatures had very large heads but a close examination would have shown that this was due to the extraordinary thickness of the bones. The cavity of the skull was not so large as the outward appearance of the head would have led a casual observer to suppose and even in those instances where the brain was of a fair size it was of inferior quality being coarse in texture and to a great extent composed of fat. Although most of them were regular attendants at some place of so-called worship they were not all teetotalers and some of them were now in different stages of education not because they had had a great deal to drink but because being usually obstentious it did not take very much to make them drunk. From time to time this miserable crew tried to enliven the journey by singing but as most of them only knew out choruses it did not come to much. As for the few who did happen to know all the words of a song they either had no voices or were not inclined to sing. The most successful contribution was that of the religious maniac of hymns the choruses being joined in by everybody both drunk and sober. The strains of these hymns wafted back through the Bamiere to the last coach with the cause of much hilarity to its occupants who also sang the choruses. As they had all been brought up under Christian influences and educated in Christian schools they all knew the words work for the night is coming turn poor sinner and escape eternal fire pull for the shore and where is my wandering boy The last reminded Harlow of a song he knew nearly all the words of take the news to mother the singing of which was much appreciated by all present and when it was finished they sang it all over again Philpot being so affected that he actually shed tears and Easton confided to own that there was no getting away from the fact that a boy's best friend is his mother. In this last carriage as in the other two there were several men who were more or less intoxicated and for the same reason not being used to taking much liquor the few extra glasses they had drunk had got into their heads they were as sober as a lot of fellows as need be at ordinary times and they flocked together in this break because they were all of about the same character not tame contented imbeciles like most of those in Misery's carriage but men something like Harlow who although dissatisfied with their condition doggedly continued the hopeless weary struggle against their fate they were not teetotalers they never went to either church or chapel but they spent little in drink or on any form of enjoyment an occasional glass of beer or a still rarer visit to a music hall and now and then an outing more or less similar to this being the sum total of their pleasures these four breaks might fit to be regarded as so many travelling lunatic asylums the inmates of each exhibiting different degrees and forms of mental disorder the occupants of the first Rushton, Didlem and Co. might be classed as criminal lunatics who injured others as well as themselves in a popularly constituted system of society such men as these would be regarded as a danger to the community and would be placed under such restraint as would effectually prevent them from harming themselves or others these wretches had abandoned every thought and thing that tends to the elevation of humanity they had given up everything that makes life good and beautiful in order to carry on a mad struggle to acquire money which they would never be sufficiently cultured to properly enjoy death and blind to every other consideration to this end they had degraded their intellects by concentrating them upon the minutest details of expense and profit and for their reward they raked in their harvest of muck and lucre along with the hatred and curses of those they injured in the process they knew that the money they accumulated was foul with the sweat of their brother man and wet with the tears of little children but they were deaf and blind and callous to the consequences of their greed devoid of every ennobling thought or aspiration they groveled on the filthy ground tearing up the flowers to get at the worms in the coach presided over by Crass Bill Bates the semi-drunk and the other two or three habitual boozers were all men who had been driven mad by their environment at one time most of them had been fellows like Harlow working early and late whenever they got the chance only to see their earnings swallowed up in a few minutes every Saturday by the landlord and all the other hosts of harpies and profit mongers who were waiting to demand it as soon as it was earned in the years that were gone most of these men used to take all their money home religiously every Saturday and give it to the old girl for the house and then lo and behold in a moment yay even in the twinkling of an eye it was all gone melted away like snow in the sun and nothing to chauffeur it except the frequency of the bare necessaries of life but after a time they had become heartbroken and sick and tired of that sort of thing they hankered after a little pleasure a little excitement a little fun and they found that it was possible to buy something like those quart pots at the pub they knew they were not the genuine articles but they were better than nothing at all and so they gave up the practice of giving all their money to the old girl to give to the landlord and the other harpies and bought beer with some of it instead and after a time their minds became so disordered from drinking so much of this beer that they cared nothing whether the rent was paid or not they cared but little whether the old girl and the children had food or clothes they said to hell with everything and everyone and they cared for nothing so long as they could get plenty of beer the occupants of Nimrod's coach have already been described and most of them may correctly be classed as being similar to cretin idiots of the third degree very cunning and selfish and able to read and write but with very little understanding of what they read except on the most common topics as for those who rode with Harlow in the last coach most of them as had already been intimated were men of similar character to himself the greater number of them fairly good workmen and unlike the boozers and classes coach not yet quite heartbroken but still continuing the hopeless struggle against poverty these differed from Nimrod's lot in as much as they were not content they were always complaining of their wretched circumstances and found a certain kind of pleasure in listening to the tirades of the socialists against the existing social conditions and professing their concurrence with many of the sentiments expressed and a desire to bring about a better state of affairs most of them appeared to be quite sane being able to converse intelligently on any ordinary subject without discovering any symptoms of mental disorder and it was not until the topic of parliamentary elections was mentioned that evidence of their insanity was forthcoming it then almost invariably appeared that they were subject to the most extraordinary hallucinations and extravagant delusions the commonest being that the best thing that the working people could do to bring about an improvement in their condition was to continue to elect their liberal and Tory employers to make laws for and to rule over them at such times if anyone ventured to point out to them that they were doing all their lives and referred them to the manifold evidences that met them whenever they turned their eyes of its folly and futility they were generally immediately seized with a paroxysm of the most furious mania and were with difficulty prevented from savagely assaulting those who differed from them they were usually found in a similar condition of maniacal excitement for some time preceding and during parliamentary election but afterwards they usually manifested that modification of insanity melancholia in fact they alternated between these two forms of the disease during elections the highest state of exalted mania and at ordinary times presumably as a result of reading about the proceedings and parliament of the persons whom they had elected in a state of melancholic depression in their case an instant of hope deferred making the heart sick this condition occasionally proved to be the stage of transition into yet another modification of the disease that known as dipsomania the phase exhibited by Bill Bates and the semi-drunk yet another form of insanity was that shown by the socialists like most of their fellow passengers in the last coach the majority of these individuals appeared to be of perfectly sound mind upon entering into conversation with them one found that they reasoned correctly and even brilliantly they had divided their favourite subject into three parts an exact definition of the condition known as poverty secondly a knowledge of the causes of poverty and thirdly a rational plan for the cure of poverty those who opposed to them always failed to refute their arguments and feared and nearly always refused to meet them in a fair fight in open debate preferring to use the cowardly and despicable weapons of slander and misrepresentation the fact that these socialists never encountered their opponents in order to accept to defeat them was a powerful testimony to the accuracy of their reasonings and the correctness of their conclusions and yet they were undoubtedly mad one might converse with them for an infinite time on the three divisions of their subject without eliciting any proofs of insanity but directly one inquired what means they proposed to employ in order to bring about the adoption of their plan they replied that they hoped to do so by reasoning with the others and the real causes of poverty and the only cure for poverty they were nevertheless so foolish that they entertained the delusion that it is possible to reason with the mentored persons whereas every sane person knows that to reason with a maniac is not only fruitless but rather tends to fix more deeply the erroneous impressions of a disordered mind the wagonet containing Rushden and his friends continued to fly over the road pursued by the one in which road crass was semi-drunk but not withstanding all the efforts of the drunken driver they were unable to overtake or pass the smaller vehicle and when they reached the foot of the hill that led up to Windley the distance between the two carriages rapidly increased and the race was reluctantly abandoned when they reached the top of the hill Rushden and his friends did not wait for the others but drove off towards Mugsborough as fast as they could and when they came up all those who lived nearby got out and some of them sang God Save the King and then with shouts of good night and cries of don't forget six o'clock Monday morning they dispersed to their homes and the carriages moved off once more at intervals as they passed through Windley brief stoppages were made in order to enable others to get out and by the time they reached the top of the long incline that led down into Mugsborough it was nearly twelve o'clock and it was still empty the only passengers being own and four or five others who lived downtown by ones and twos these also departed disappearing into the obscurity of night until there was no one left and the beano was an event of the past End of chapter 44 part 2 Chapter 45 part 1 of the ragged trousers philanthropists this Libyvox recording is in the public domain recording by Ty Kynes the ragged trousers philanthropists the ragged trousers philanthropists by Robert Tressel Chapter 45 part 1 the great oration the outlook for the approaching winter was as usual gloomy in the extreme one of the leading daily newspapers published an article prophesizing a period of severe industrial depression as the warehouses were glutted with the things produced by the working classes there was no need for them to do any more work at present and so they would now have to go starve until such time as the masters had sold or consumed the things already produced of course the writer of the article did not put it exactly like that but that was what it amounted to this article was quoted by nearly all the other papers both liberal and conservative the Tory papers ignoring the fact that all the protectionist countries were in exactly the same condition published yards of misleading articles about tariff reform the liberal paper said tariff reform was no remedy look at America and Germany worse than here still the situation was undoubtedly very serious continued the liberal papers and something would have to be done they did not say exactly what because of course they did not know but something would have to be done tomorrow they talked vaguely about reforestation and reclaiming the four shores and sea walls but of course there was a question of cost that was a difficulty but all the same something would have to be done some experiments must be tried great caution was necessary in dealing with such difficult problems we must go slow and if in the meantime a few thousand children die of starvation or become rickety or consumptive through lack of proper nutrition it is of course very regrettable but after all they are only working class children so it doesn't matter a great deal most of the writers of these liberal and Tory papers seem to think that all that was necessary was to find work for the working class that was their conception of a civilized nation in the 20th century for the majority of the people to work like brutes in order to obtain a living wage for themselves and to create luxuries for a small minority of persons who are too lazy to work at all and although this was all they thought was necessary they did not know what to do in order to bring even that much to pass winter was returning bringing in its train the usual crop of horrors and the liberal and Tory monopolists of wisdom did not know what to do Russians had so little work in that nearly all the hands expected that they would be slaughtered the next Saturday after the bino and there was one man Jim Smithy was called who was not allowed to live even till then he got the sack before breakfast on the Monday morning after the bino this man was about 45 years old but very short for his age being only a little over five feet in height the other men used to say that little Jim was not made right for while his body was big enough for a six footer his legs were very short and the fact that he was rather inclined to be fat added to the oddity of his appearance on the Monday morning after the bino he was painting an upper room in a house where several other men were working and it was customary for the Coddy to shout yo at meal times to let the hands know when it was time to leave off work at about ten minutes to eight Jim had squared the part of the work he had been doing, the window so he decided not to start on the door of the skirting until after breakfast whilst he was waiting for the form and to shout yo his mind reverted to the bino and he began to hum the tunes of some of the songs that had been sung he hummed the tune of he's a jolly good fellow and he could not get the tune out of his mind it kept buzzing in his head he wondered what time it was it could not be very far off eight now of the work he had done since six o'clock he had rubbed down and stopped all the woodwork and painted the window the jolly good two hours work he was only getting sixpence-hape in an hour and if he hadn't aired a bob he hadn't aired nothing anyhow whether he had done enough for him or not he wasn't going to do no more before breakfast the tune of he's a jolly good fellow was still buzzing in his head he thrust his hands deep down in his trousers pockets and began to polka round the room humming softly I won't do no more before breakfast I won't do no more before breakfast I won't do no more before breakfast so hip hip hip hooray so hip hip hip hooray so hip hip hip hooray I won't do no more before breakfast No and you won't do what's very little after breakfast here shouted hunter suddenly entering the room I've been watching you through the crack in the door for the last half hour and you'd not done a damn stroke all that time You make out your timesheet and go to the office at nine o'clock, and get your money. We can't afford to pay you for playin' the fool." Leaving the man dumbfounded and without waiting for a reply, misery went downstairs, and after kicking up a devil of a row with a foreman for the lack of discipline on the job, he instructed him that Smith was not to be permitted to resume work after breakfast. Then he rode away. He had come in so stealthily that no one had known anything of his arrival until they heard him bellowing at Smith. The latter did not stay to take breakfast, but went off at once, and when he was gone, the other chap said it served him bloody well right. He was always singin'. He ought to have more sense. You can't do as you like nowadays, you know. Easton, who was working at another job with crass as his foreman, knew that unless some more work came in, he was likely to be one of those who would have to go. As far as he could see, it was only a week or two at the most before everything would be finished up, but notwithstanding the prospect of being out of work so soon, he was far happier than he had been for several months past, for he imagined he had discovered the cause of Ruth's strange manner. This knowledge came to him on the night of the Beano. When he arrived home, he found that Ruth had already gone to bed. She had not been well, and it was Mrs. Linden's explanation of her illness that led Easton to think that he had discovered the cause of the unhappiness of the last few months. Until that he knew, as he thought, he blamed himself for not having been more considerate and patient with her. At the same time he was at a loss to understand why she had not told him about it herself. The only explanation he could think of was the one suggested by Mrs. Linden that at such times women often behaved strangely. However that might be, he was glad to think he knew the reason of it all, and he resolved that he would be more gentle and forebearing with her. The place where he was working was practically finished. It was a large house called the Refuge, and very similar to the Cave, and during the last week or two it had become what they called a hospital. That is, as the other jobs became finished. The men were nearly all sent to this one, so that there was quite a large crowd of them there. The inside work was all finished, with the exception of the kitchen, which was used as a mess-room, and the scullery, which was the paint shop. One was working on the job. Poor old Joe Philpot, whose rheumatism had been very bad lately, was doing a very rough job painting the gable from a long ladder. But though there were plenty of younger men more suitable for this, Philpot did not care to complain, for fear crass or misery would think he was not up to his work. At dinner-time all the old hands assembled in the kitchen, including Crass, Easton, Harlow, Bundy, and Dick Wantley, who still sat on a pail behind his usual moat. Pot and Harlow were absent, and everybody wondered what had become of them. Several times during the morning they had been seen whispering together and comparing scraps of paper, and various theories were put forward to account for their disappearance. Most of the men thought they must have heard something good about the probable winner of the handicap, and had gone out to put something on. Some others thought that perhaps they had heard of another job about to be started by some other firm, and had gone to inquire about it. It looks to me as if they'll stand a very good chance of getting drowned if they're gone very far, remarked Easton, referring to the weather. It had been threatening to rain all the morning, and during the last few minutes it had become so dark that Crass lit the gas, so that, as he expressed it, they should be able to see the way to their mouths. Outside the wind grew more boisterous every moment, the darkness continued to increase, and presently they succeeded at a wrenching downfall of rain, which beat fiercely against the windows and poured in torrents down the glass. The men glanced gloomily at each other. No more work could be done outside that day, and there was nothing left to do inside. As they were paid by the hour, this would mean that they would have to lose half a day's pay. If it keeps on like this we won't be able to do no more work, and we won't be able to go home either, remarked Easton. Well, we're all right here, ain't we? said the man behind the moat. There's a nice fire and plenty of easy chairs. What the elmord do you want?" Yes, remarked another philosopher. If we only had a show-hape in the table or a ring-board, I reckon we should be able to enjoy ourselves all right. Philpot and Harlow were still absent, and the others again fell to wondering where they could be. I see old Joe up on his ladder only a few minutes before twelve, remarked wantly, and everyone agreed that it was a mystery. At this moment the two truants returned looking very important. Philpot was armed with a hammer and carried a pair of steps, while Harlow bore a large piece of wallpaper, which the two of them proceeded to tack onto the wall, much to the amusement of the others, who read the announcement opposite, written in charcoal. Imperial Banquet Hall, the refuge, on Thursday at twelve, thirty prompt. Professor Barrington will deliver a narration entitled, The Great Secret or How to Live Without Work. The Reverend Joe Philpot, PLO, late-obsconding Secretary of the Light Refreshment Fund, will take the chair, not anything else he can lay his hands on. At the end of the lecture a meeting will be arranged and carried out according to the Marquis of Queensbury rules. A collection will be took up in aid of the cost of printing. Every day at meal, since Barrington's unexpected outburst at the Beano dinner, the men had been trying their best to kid him on to make another speech, but so far without success. With anything he had been even more silent and reserved than before, as if he felt some regret that he had spoken as he had on that occasion. Crass and his disciples attributed Barrington's manner to fear that he was going to get the sack for his trouble, and they agreed amongst themselves that it would serve him bloody well right if he did get the push. When they had fixed the poster on the wall Philpot stood the steps in the corner of the room, with the back part facing outwards, and then everybody being ready for the lecturer. The two sat down in their accustomed places and began to eat their dinners, Harlow remarking that they would have to book up or that it would be too late for the meeting, and the rest of the crowd began to discuss the poster. What the hell does PLO mean, demanded Bundy with a puzzled expression? Plain, lay her on, answered Philpot modestly. Have you ever heard the Professor preach before, inquired the man on the pale addressing Bundy? Only once at the Beano, replied that individual, and that was once too often. Find the speaker I ever heard, said the man on the pale with enthusiasm. I wouldn't miss this lecture for anything. This is one of his best subjects. I got to hear about two hours before the doors was open, so as to be sure to get a seat. Yeah, it's a very good subject, said Kras with a snare. I believe most of the Labour members of Parliament has well opened it. And what about the other members, demanded Philpot. Seems to me as if most of them know something about it, too. The difference is, said Owen, the working-classes voluntarily paid to keep the Labour members, but whether they like it or not they have to keep the others. The Labour members have sent to the House of Commons, said Harlow, and paid their wages to do certain work for the benefit of the working-classes, just the same as were sent here and paid our wages by the bloke to paint this house. Yeah, said Kras, but if we didn't do the work we're paid to do, we should bloody soon get the sack. I can't see how we've got to keep the other members, said Slime. They're mostly rich men, and they live on their own money. Of course, said Kras, and I should like to know where we should be without them. Talk about us keeping them. It seems to me more like it that they keep us. The likes of us lives on rich people. Where should we be if it wasn't for all the money they spend and the work they has done? If the owner of this house hadn't had the money to spend to have it done up, most of us would have been out of work this last six weeks, and starving, the same as a lot of others has been. Ah, yes, that's right enough, agreed Bundy. Labour is no good without capital. Before any work can be done, there's one thing necessary, and that's money. It'll be easy to find work for all the good employed if the local authorities can only raise the money. Yes, that's quite true, said Owen, and that proves that money is the cause of poverty, because poverty consists in being short of the necessaries of life. The necessaries of life are all produced by labour, applied to the raw materials, and the raw materials exist in abundance, and there are plenty of people able and willing to work. But under present conditions, no work can be done without money, and so we have the spectacle of a great army of people compelled to stand idle and starve by the side of the raw materials, from which their labour could produce abundance of all the things they need. They are rendered helpless with a power of money. Those who possess all the money say that the necessaries of life shall not be produced except for their profit. Yes, and you can't alter it, said Crass triumphantly. It's always been like it, and it always will be like it. Here, here, shouted the man behind the moat, it has always been rich and poor in the world, and there always will be. Several others expressed their enthusiastic agreement with Crass's opinion, and most of them appeared to be highly delighted to think that the existing state of affairs could never be altered. It hasn't always been like it, and it won't always be like it, said Owen. The time will come, and it's not very far distant, when the necessaries of life will be produced for use and not for profit. The time is coming when it will no longer be possible for a few selfish people to condemn thousands of men and women and little children to live in misery and die of want. Ah, well, it won't be in your time, or mine, either," said Crass, gleefully, and most of the others laughed with imbecile satisfaction. I've heard a hell of a lot about this here, socialism," remarked the man behind the moat, but up to now I've never met anybody who I could tell you plainly exactly what it is. Yeah, that's what I should like to know, too," said Easton. The socialism means, what's yours is mine, and what's mine is mine on," observed Bundy, and during the laughter that greeted this definition, Slime was heard to say that socialism meant materialism, atheism, and free love, and if it were ever to come about it would degrade men and women to the level of brute beasts. Harlow said socialism was a beautiful ideal, which he, for one, would be very glad to see realized, but he was afraid it was altogether too good to be practical, because human nature is too mean and selfish. Sorkin said that socialism was a lot of bloody rot, and Crass expressed the opinion, which he had culled from the delectable collumes of the obscure, that had meant robbing the industrious for the benefit of the idle and thriftless. CHAPTER 45 FINISHED his bread and cheese, and, having taken a final draft of tea, he rose to his feet, and, crossing over to the corner of the room, ascended the pulpit, being immediately greeted with a tremendous outburst of hooting, howling, and booing, which he smilingly acknowledged by removing his cap from his bald head and bowing repeatedly. When the storm of shrieks, yells, groans, and cat-calls had in some degree subsided, and Philpot was able to make himself heard, he addressed the meeting as follows. GENTLEMAN First of all, I beg to thank you very sincerely for the magnificent and cordial reception you've given me on this occasion, and I shall try to deserve your good opinion by opening the meeting as briefly as possible. And putting all jokes aside, I think we're all agreed about one thing, and that is, that there's plenty of room for improvement in things in general. Here, here. As our other lecturer, Professor Owen, pointed out in one of his lectures, and as most of you have read in the newspapers, although British trade was never so good before as it is now, there was never so much misery and poverty, and so many people out of work, and so many small shopkeepers going up the spout as there is at this particular time. Now some people tells us as the way to put everything right is to have free trade and plenty of cheap food. Well, we've got them all now, but the misery seems to go on all round as all the same. And then there's other people tells us that the friskal policy is the thing to put everything right. Here, here from Crass and several others. And then there's another lot that says that socialism is the only remedy. Well, we all know pretty well what free trade and protection means, but most of us don't know exactly what socialism means, and I say it's the duty of every man to try and find out which is the right thing to vote for, and when he's found it out, to do what he can to help bring it about. And that's the reason we've gone to the enormous expense of engaging Professor Barrington to come here this afternoon and tell us exactly what socialism is. As I hope you're all just as anxious to hear him as I am myself, I will not stand between you and the lecturer any longer, but will now call upon him to address you. Philpott was loudly applauded as he descended from the pulpit, and in response to the clamorous demands of the crowd, Barrington, who in the meantime had yielded to owns and treaties that he would avail himself of this opportunity, of proclaiming the glad tidings of the good time that is to be, he got up on the steps in his turn. Harlow, desiring that everything should be done decently and in order, had meantime arranged in front of the pulpit a carpenter's sewing-stool, and an empty pail with a small piece of board laid across it, to serve as a seat and a table for the chairman. Over the table he draped a large red handkerchief. At the right he placed a plumber's large hammer, at the left a battered and much chipped jam jar, full of tea. Philpott, having taken his seat on the pail at this table, had announced his intention of bashing out at the hammer the brains of any individual who ventured to disturb the meeting. Barrington commenced. Mr. Chairman and Gentlemen, for the sake of clearness, and in order to avoid confusion one subject with the other, I have decided to divide the oration into two parts. First I will try to explain as well as I am able what socialism is. I will try to describe to you the plan or system upon which the co-operative commonwealth of the future will be organised, and secondly I will try to tell you how it can be brought about. But before proceeding with the first part of the subject, I would like to refer you very slightly to the widespread illusion that socialism is impossible, because it means a complete change from an order of things which has always existed. We constantly hear it said that because there have always been rich and poor in the world there always must be. I want to point out here first of all that it is not true that even in its essential features the present system has existed from all time. It is not true that there have always been rich and poor in the world in the sense that we understand riches and poverty today. These statements are lies that have been invented for the purpose of creating in us a feeling of resignation to the evils of our condition. They are lies which have been fostered by those who imagine that it is to their interest that we should be content to see our children condemned to the same poverty and degradation that we have endured ourselves. I do not propose, because there is not time, although it is really part of my subject, to go back to the beginnings of history and describe in detail the different systems of social organization which evolved from and superseded each other at different periods, but it is necessary to remind you that the changes that have taken place in the past have been even greater than the changes proposed by socialists today. The change from savagery and cannibalism, when men used to devour the captives they took in war, to the beginning of chattel slavery, when the tribes or clans into which mankind were divided, whose social organization was a kind of communism, while the individuals belonging to the tribe being practically social equals, members of one great family, found it more profitable to keep their captives as slaves than to eat them. The change from the primitive communism of the tribes into the more individualistic organization of the nations and the development of private ownership of the land and slaves and means of subsistence, the change from chattel slavery into feudalism, and the change from feudalism into the earlier forms of capitalism, and the equally great change from what might be called individualistic capitalism which displaced feudalism to the system of cooperative capitalism and wage slavery of today. I believe you must have swallowed a bloody dictionary. Exclaimed the man behind the moat. Keep order! shouted Philpot fiercely, striking the table with a hammer, and there were loud shouts of chair and chuck them out from several quarters. When order was restored the lecturer proceeded. So it's not true that practically the same state of affairs as we have today has always existed. It's not true that anything like the poverty that prevailed at present existed at any previous period of the world's history. When the workers were the property of their masters, it was to their owner's interest to see that they were properly clothed and fed. They were not allowed to be idle, and they were not allowed to starve. Under feudalism also there were certain intolerable circumstances. The position of the workers was economically, infinitely better than it is today. The worker was in subjection to his lord, but in return his lord had certain responsibilities and duties to perform, and there was a large measure of community of interests between them. I do not intend to dwell upon this point at length, but in support of what I have said I will quote as nearly as I can from memory the words of the historian, Frude. I do not believe, says Mr. Frude, that the condition of the people in medieval Europe was as miserable as is pretended. I do not believe that the distribution of the necessaries of life was as unequal as it is at present. If the tenant lived hard the lords had little luxury. Earls and countesses breakfasted at five in the morning on salt, beef, and herring, a slice of bread, and a draught of ale from a blackjack. Lords and servants dined in the same hall and shared the same meal. When we arrive at the system that displaced feudalism we find that the condition of the workers was better in every way than it is at present. The instruments of production, the primitive machinery, and the tools necessary for the creation of wealth, belonged to the skilled workers who used them, and the things they produced were also the property of those who made them. In those days a master painter, a master shoemaker, a master saddler, or any other master tradesman was really a skilled artisan working on his own account. He usually had one or two apprentices who were socially his equals eating at the same table and associating with the other members of his family. It was quite a common occurrence for the apprentice, after he had attained proficiency in his work, to marry his master's daughter and succeed to his master's business. In those days to be a master tradesman meant to be a master of the trade, not merely some underpaid drudges in one's employment. The apprentices were there to master the trade, qualifying themselves to become master workers themselves, not mere sweaters and exploiters of the labour of others, but useful members of society. In those days, because there was no labour saving machinery, the community was dependent for its existence on the productions of hand labour. Consequently the majority of the people were employed in some kind of productive work, and the workers were honoured and respected citizens, living in comfort on the fruits of their labour. They were not rich as we understand wealth now, but they did not starve, and they were not regarded with contempt as are their successors of today. The next great change came with the introduction of steam machinery. That power came to the aid of mankind in their struggle for existence, enabling them to create easily and in abundance those things of which they had previously been able to produce only a bare sufficiency, a wonderful power equaling and surpassing the marvels that were imagined by the writers of fairy tales and eastern stories, a power so vast, so marvellous, that it is difficult to find words to convey anything like an adequate conception of it. We all remember the story in the Arabian Knights of Aladdin, who in his poverty became possessed of the wonderful lamp, and he was poor no longer. He merely had to rub the lamp, the genie appeared, and at Aladdin's command he produced an abundance of everything that the youth could ask or dream of. With the discovery of steam machinery, mankind became possessed of a similar power to that imagined by the eastern writer. At the command of its masters, the wonderful lamp of machinery produces an enormous, overwhelming, stupendous abundance and superfluity of every material thing necessary for human existence and happiness. With less labor than was formerly required to cultivate acres, we can now cultivate miles of land. In response to human industry aided by science and machinery, the fruitful earth teems with such lavish abundance as was never known or deemed possible before. If you go into the different factories and workshops, you'll see prodigious quantities of commodities of every kind, pouring out of the wonderful machinery literally like water from a tap. One would naturally and reasonably suppose that the discovery or invention of such an aid to human industry would result in increased happiness and comfort to everyone. But as you all know, the reverse is the case, and the reason for that extraordinary result is the reason of all the poverty and unhappiness that we see around us and endure today. It is simply because the machinery became the property of a comparatively few individuals and private companies who use it not for the benefit of the community, but to create profits for themselves. As this labor-saving machinery became more extensively used, the prosperous class of skilled workers gradually disappeared. Some of the wealthier of them became distributors instead of producers of wealth. That is to say, they became shopkeepers, retailing the commodities that were produced for the most part by machinery. But the majority of them, in course of time, degenerated into a class of mere wage earners, having no property in the machines they used and no property in the things they made. They sold their labor for so much per hour, and when they could not find any employer to buy it from them, they were reduced to destitution. While the unemployed workers were starving, and those in employment not much better off, the individuals and private companies who owned the machinery accumulated fortunes, but their profits were diminished and their working expenses increased by what led to the latest great change in the organization of the production of the necessaries of life, the formation of the limited companies and the trusts. The decision of the companies to combine and cooperate with each other in order to increase their profit and decrease their working expenses. The results of these combines have been an increase in the quantities of the things produced, a decrease in the number of wage earners employed, and enormously increased profits for the shareholders. But it's not only the wage earning class that's being hurt, for while they are being annihilated by the machinery and the efficient organization of industry by the trusts that control and are beginning to monopolize production, the shopkeeping classes are also being slowly but surely crushed out of existence by the huge companies that are fabled by the greater magnitude of their operations to buy and sell more cheaply than the small traders. The consequence of all this is that the majority of the people are in a condition of more or less abject poverty, living from hand to mouth. It is an admitted fact that about 13 millions of our people are always on the verge of starvation. The significant results of this poverty faces on every side, the alarming and persistent increase of insanity, the large number of would-be recruits for the army who have been rejected because they are physically unfit, and the shameful condition of the children of the poor. More than one third of the children of the working classes in London have some sort of mental or physical defect, defects in development, defects in eyesight, abnormal nervousness, rickets and mental dullness. The difference in height and weight and general condition of the children in poor schools and the children in the so-called better classes, constitute the crime that calls a loud to heaven for vengeance upon those who are responsible for it. It is childish to imagine that any measure of tariff reform or political reform such as the paltry tax on foreign-made goods or abolishing the house of lords or disestablishing the church or miserable old age pensions or a contemptible tax on land can deal with such a state of affairs as this. They have no house of lords in America or France and yet their condition is not materially different from ours. You may be deceived into thinking that such measures as these are great things. You may fight for them and vote for them, but after you've got them you'll find that they make no appreciable improvement in your condition. You will have to slave and drudge to gain a better sufficiency of the necessaries of life. You will still have to eat the same kind of food and wear the same kind of clothes and boots as now. Your masters will still have you in their power to insult and sweat and drive. Your general condition will be just the same as are present because such measures as those are not remedies but red herrings intended by those who trail them to draw us away from the only remedy which is to be found in the public ownership of the machinery and the national organization of industry for the production and distribution of the necessaries of life not for the profit of a few but for the benefit of all. That's the next great change, not merely desirable but imperatively necessary and inevitable. That is socialism. It is not a wild dream of superhuman unselfishness. No one will be asked to sacrifice himself for the benefit of others or to love his neighbours better than himself as is the case under the present system which demands that the majority shall unselfishly be content to labour and live in wretchedness for the benefit of a few. There is no such principle of philanthropy in socialism which simply means that even as all industries are now owned by shareholders and organised and directed by committees and officers elected by the shareholders, social day and future belong to the state, that is, the whole people, and they shall be organised and directed by committees and officers elected by the community. Under existing circumstances the community is exposed to the danger of being invaded and robbed and massacred by some foreign power. Therefore the community has organised and owns and controls an army and navy who protect it from that danger. Under existing circumstances the community is menaced by another equally great danger. The people are mentally and physically degenerating from lack of proper food and clothing. Socialists say that the community should undertake and organise the business of producing and distributing all these things, that the state should be the only employer of labour and should own all the factories, mills, mines, farms, railways, fishing fleets, sheep farms, poultry farms and cattle ranches. Under existing circumstances the community is degenerating mentally and physically because the majority cannot afford to have decent homes to live in. The socialists say that the community should take in hand the business of providing proper houses for all its members, that the state should be the only landlord, that all the land and all the houses should belong to the whole people. We must do this if we are to keep our old place in the van of human progress. A nation of ignorant, unintelligent half-starved, broken, spirited degenerates cannot hope to lead humanity in its never-ceasing march onward to the conquest of the future. Vain, mightiest fleet of iron-framed, vain the all-shattering guns, unless proud England keep untamed the stout hearts of our sons. All the evils that I refer to are only symptoms of the one disease that is sapping the moral, mental and physical life of the nation, and all attempts to cure these symptoms are for doomed to failure simply because they are the symptoms and not the disease. All the talk of temperance and the attempts to compel temperance are for doomed to failure because drunkenness is a symptom and not the disease. India is a rich productive country. Every year millions of pounds worth of wealth are produced by her people only to be stolen from them by means of the money-trick by the capitalists and the official class. Her industrious sons and daughters, who are nearly all total abstainers, live in abject poverty, and their misery is not caused by laziness or want of thrift or by intemperance. They are poor for the same reason that we are poor because we were robbed. The hundreds of thousands of pounds that are yearly wasted in well-meant but useless charity accomplish no lasting good because while charity soothes the symptoms it ignores the disease which is the private ownership of the means of producing the necessaries of life and the restriction of production by a few selfish individuals for their own profit. And for that disease there is no other remedy than the one I have told you of the public ownership and cultivation of the land, the public ownership of the mines, railways, canals, ships, factories, and all the other means of production and the establishment of an industrial civil service, a national army of industry for the purpose of producing the necessaries, comforts and refinements of life in that abundance which should be made possible by science and machinery for the use and the benefit of the whole of the people. Yes, and where's the money to come from for all this? shouted Crass fiercely. Here, here, cried the man behind the moat. There's no money difficulty about it, replied Barrington. We can easily find all the money we shall need. Of course, said Slime, who had been reading the Daily Ananias, there's all the money in the post-offer savings bank. The socialists could steal that for a start, and as for the mines and land and factories, they can all be tucked from the owners by force. There'll be no need for force and no need to steal anything from anybody. And there's another thing I object to, said Crass, and that's all this here talk about ignorance. What about all the money what's spent every year for education? You should rather say what about all the money that's wasted every year on education? What can be more brutal and senseless than trying to educate a poor little hungry ill-clad child? Such so-called instruction is like the seeding in the parable of the sower which fell on stony ground and withered away because it had no depth of earth, and even in those cases where it does take root and grow, it becomes like the sea that fell among thorns and the thorns grew open and choked it, and a bore no fruit. With the majority of us forgetting a year or two all that we learnt at school, because the conditions of our lives are such as to destroy all inclination for culture or refinement. We must see that the children are properly clothed and fed, and that they are not made to get up in the middle of the night to go to work for several hours before they go to school. We must make it illegal for any greedy, heartless, profit-hunter to hire them, and make them labour for several hours in the evening after school, or all day until nearly midnight on Saturday. We must foresee that our children are cared for as well as the children of savage races before we can expect a proper return for the money that we spend on education. I don't mind admitting that this here scheme of national ownership and industries is all right if it could only be done, said Harlow, but at present all the land, railways and factories belong to private capitalists. They can't be bought without money, and you say you ain't going to take them away by force, so we should like to know how the bloody hell are you going to get them. We certainly don't propose to buy them with money for the simple reason that there is not sufficient money in the existence to pay for them. If all the gold and silver money in the world were gathered together into one heap, it would scarcely be sufficient to buy all the private property in England. The people who own all these things now never really paid for them with money. They obtained possession of them by means of the money trick, which Owen explained to us some time ago. They obtained possession of them by using their brain, said Crass. Exactly, replied the lecturer. They tells us themselves that that is how they got them away from us. They call that profit's wages of intelligence. While we have been working, they have been using their intelligence in order to obtain possession of the things we have created. The time has now arrived for us to use our intelligence in order to get back the things they have robbed us of, and to prevent them from robbing us any more. As for how it is to be done, we might copy the methods that they have found so successful. Ah, then you do mean to rob them after all, cried Slime triumphantly. If it's true that they rob the workers, and if we're to adopt the same method, then we'll be robbers too. When a thief is caught having in his possession the property of others, it is not robbery to take the things away from him and restore them to their rightful owners, retorted Barrington. I can't allow this here disorder to go on any longer. Shouted Philpot banging the table with a plumber's hammer as several men began talking at the same time. There'll be plenty of tunnel property for questions in opposition at the end of the iteration, when the pulpit will be thrown open to anyone as likes to debate the question. I now call upon the professor to proceed with the second part of the iteration, and anyone what interrupts will get a lick under the ear all with this, waving the hammer, and the body will be chucked out with a bloody wender. Loud cheers greeted this announcement. It was still raining heavily, and so they thought they might as well pass the time listening to Barrington as in any other way. A large part of the land maybe got back in the same way as it was taken from us. The ancestors of the present holders obtained possession of it by simply passing acts of enclosure. The nation should regain possession of those lands by passing acts of resumption, and with regard to the other land, the present holders would be allowed to retain possession of it during their lives, and then it should revert to the state to be used for the benefit of all. Britain should belong to the British people, not to a few selfish individuals. As for the railways, they have already been nationalised in some other countries, and what other countries can do, we can do also. In New Zealand, Australia, South Africa, Germany, Belgium, Italy, Japan and some other countries, some of the railways are already the properties of the state. As for the method by which we can obtain possession of them, the difficulty is not to discover a method, but rather to decide which of many methods we shall adapt. One method would be simply to pass an act, declaring that as it was contrary to the public interest that they should be owned by private individuals, the railway should henceforth be the property of the nation. All railway servants, managers and officials would continue in their employment, the only difference being that they would now be in the employ of the state, as to the shareholders. They could all be knocked on the head, I suppose, interrupted crass, or go to the workhouse, said Slime, or to hell, suggested the man behind the moat. The state would continue to pay the shareholders the same dividends they had received on an average for, say, the previous three years. These payments would be continued to the present shareholders for life, or the payments might be limited to a stated number of years and the shares would be made non-transferable, like the railway tickets of today. As for the factories, shops and other means of production and distribution, the state must adopt the same methods of doing business as the present owners. I mean that even as the big trusts and companies are crushing by competition, the individual workers and small traders, so the state should crush the trusts by competition. It is surely justifiable for the state to do for the benefit of the whole people what the capitalists are already doing for the profit of a few shareholders. The first step in this direction will be the establishment of retail stores for the purpose of supplying all the national and municipal employees with the necessaries of life at the lowest possible prices. At first, the administration will purchase all these things from the private manufacturers in such large quantities that it would be able to obtain them at the very cheapest rate, and as there will be no heavy rents to pay for showy shops and no advertising expenses, and as the object of the administration will not be to make profit, but to supply its workmen and officials with goods at the lowest price. They will be able to sell them much cheaper than the profit-making private stores. The national retail service stores will be for the benefit of only those in the public service, and gold, silver or copper money will not be accepted in payment for the things sold. At first, all public servants will continue to be paid in metal money, but those who desire it will be paid all or part of their wages with paper money of the same nominal value, which will be accepted in payment for their purchases at the national stores and at the national hotels, restaurants and other places, which will be established for the convenience of those in the state service. The money will resemble banknotes. It will be made of a special, very strong paper and will be of all value from a penny to a pound. As the national service stores will sell practically everything that could be obtained elsewhere, and as twenty shillings in paper money will be able to purchase much more at the stores than twenty shillings in metal money would purchase anywhere else, it will not be long before nearly all public servants will prefer it to be paid in paper money. As far as paying the salaries and wages of most of its officials and workmen is concerned, the administration will not then have any need of metal money, but it will require metal money to pay the private manufacturers who supply the goods sold in the national stores. But all these things are made by labour, so in order to avoid having to pay metal money for them, the state will now commence to employ productive labour. All the public land suitable for the purpose will be put into cultivation, and state factories will be established for manufacturing food, boots, clothing, furniture and all other necessaries and comforts of life. All those who are out of employment and willing to work will be given employment on these farms and in these factories. In order that the men employed shall not have any work unpleasantly hard, and that their hours of labour may be as short as possible at first say eight hours per day, and also to make sure that the greatest possible quantity of everything shall be produced, these factories and farms will be equipped with the most up-to-date and efficient labour-saving machinery. The people employed in the farms and factories will be paid with paper money. The commodities they produce will go to replenish the stocks of the national service stores where the workers will be able to purchase with their paper money everything they need. As we shall employ the greatest possible number of labour-saving machines and adopt the most scientific methods in our farms and factories, the quantities of goods we shall be able to produce will be so enormous that we shall be able to pay our workers very high wages in paper money, and we shall be able to sell our produce so cheaply that all public servants will be able to enjoy abundance of everything. When the workers who are being exploited and sweated by the private capitalists realise how much worse off they are than the workers and the employ of the state, they will come and ask to be allowed to work for the state and also for paper money. That will mean that the state army of productive workers will be continually increasing in numbers. More state factories will be built, more land will be put into cultivation, men will be given employment making bricks, woodwork, paint, glass, wallpapers and all kinds of building materials, and others will be set to work building on state land, beautiful houses which will be let to those employed in the service of the state. The rent will be paid with paper money. State fishing fleets will be established and the quantities of commodities of all kinds produced will be so great that the state employees and officials will not be able to use it all. With our paper money they will be able to buy enough and more than enough to satisfy all their needs abundantly. But there will still be a great and continuously increasing surplus stock in the possession of the state. The socialist administration will now acquire or build fleets of steam trading vessels, which will of course be manned and officered by state employees the same as the Royal Navy is now. These fleets of national trading vessels will carry the surplus stocks I have mentioned to foreign countries, and will there sell or exchange them for some of the products of these countries, things that we do not produce ourselves. These things will be brought to England and sold at the national service stores at the lowest possible price for paper money to those in the service of the state. This of course will only have the effect of introducing greater variety into the stocks, it will not diminish the surplus. And as there will be no sense in continuing to produce more of these things than necessary, it would then be the duty of the administration to curtail a restrict production of the necessaries of life. This could be done by reducing the hours of the workers without reducing their wages so as to enable them to continue to purchase as much as before. Another way of preventing overproduction of mere necessaries and comforts will be to employ a large number of workers producing the refinements and pleasures of life, more artistic houses, furniture, pictures, musical instruments, and so forth. In the centre of every district a large institute or pleasure house could be erected, containing a magnificently appointed and decorated theatre, concert hall, lecture hall, gymnasium, billiard rooms, reading rooms, refreshment rooms, and so on. A detachment of the industrial army would be employed as actors, artists, musicians, singers, and entertainers. In fact, everyone that could be spared from the most important work of all, that of producing the necessaries of life, would be employed in creating pleasure, culture, and education. All these people, like the other branches of the public service, would be paid with paper money, and with it all of them would be able to purchase abundance of all those things which constitute civilization. Meanwhile, as a result of this, the kind-hearted private employers and capitalists would find that no one would come to work for them to be driven and bullied and sweated for a miserable trifle of metal money that is scarcely enough to purchase sufficient of the necessaries of life to keep body and soul together. These kind-hearted capitalists will protest against what they will call their unfair competition of state industry, and some of them may threaten to leave the country and take their capital with them. As most of these persons are too lazy to work, and as we will not need their money, we shall be very glad to see them go. But with regard to their real capital, their factories, farms, mines, or machinery, that would be a different matter. To allow these things to remain idle and unproductive would constitute an injury to the community. So a law would be passed, declaring that all land not cultivated by the owner or any factory shut down for more than a specified time would be taken possession of by the state and worked for the benefit of the community. Fair compensation would be paid in paper money to the former owners, who would be granted an income or pension of so much a year, either for life or for a stated period, according to circumstances, and the ages of the persons concerned. As for the private traders, the wholesale and retail dealers and the things produced by labour, they will be forced by state competition to close down their shops and warehouses. First, because they will not be able to replenish their stocks, and secondly, because even if they were able to do so, they would not be able to sell them. This will throw out of work a great host of people who are present engaged in useless occupations, the managers and assistants in shops of which we now see half a dozen of the same sort in a single street, the thousands of men and women who are slaving away their lives producing advertisements, far in most cases, and miserable kittens of metal money, with which many of them are unable to procure sufficient of the necessaries of life to secure them from starvation. The masons, carpenters, painters, glazers, and all the others engaged in maintaining these unnecessary stores or shops will all be thrown out of employment, but all of them who are willing to work will be welcomed by the state and will be at once employed helping either to produce or distribute the necessaries and comforts of life. They will have to work fewer hours than before. They will not have to work so hard, for there will be no need to drive a bully because there will be plenty of people to do the work, and most of it will be done by machinery, and with their paper money they will be able to buy an abundance of the things they help to produce. The shops and stores where these people were formerly employed will be acquired by the state, which will pay the former owners a fair compensation in the same manner as the factory owners. Some of the buildings will be utilised by the state as national service stores, others transformed into factories, and others will be pulled down to make room for dwellings or public buildings. It will be the duty of the government to build a sufficient number of houses to accommodate the families of all those in its employment, and as a consequence of this, and because of the general disorganisation and decay of what is now called business, all other house property of all kinds will rapidly depreciate in value. The slums and the wretched dwellings now occupied by the working classes, the miserable, uncomfortable, Jerry-built villas occupied by the lower middle classes and by business people, will be left empty and valueless upon the hands of their rack-renting landlords, who will very soon voluntarily offer to hand them and the ground they stand upon to the state on the same terms as those accorded to the other property owners, namely in return for a pension. Some of these people will be content to live in idleness, and the income will allow them for life as compensation by the state. Others will devote themselves to art or science, and some others will offer their services to the community as managers and superintendents, and the state will always be glad to employ all those who are willing to help in the great work of production and distribution. By this time the nation will be the sole employer of labour, and as no one will be able to procure the necessaries of life without paper money, and as the only way to obtain this will be by working, it will mean that every mentally and physically capable person in the community will be helping in the great work of production and distribution. We shall not need, as at present, to maintain a police force to protect the property of the idle rich from the starving wretches whom they have robbed. There will be no one employed and no overlapping labour, which will be organised and concentrated for the accomplishment of the only rational object, the creation of the things we require. For every one labour-saving machine in use today, we will, if necessary, employ a thousand machines, and consequently there will be produced such as stupendous, enormous, prodigious, overwhelming abundance of everything that soon the community will be faced once more with the serious problem of over-production. To deal with this it will be necessary to reduce the hours of our workers to four or five hours a day. All young people will be allowed to continue at public schools and universities and will not be required to take any part in the work of the nation until they are 21 years of age. At the age of 45, everyone will be allowed to retire from the state service on full pay. All these will be able to spend the rest of the days according to their own inclinations. Some will settle down quietly at home and amuse themselves in the same ways as people of wealth and leisure do at the present day. With some hobby, are by taking part in the organisation of social functions such as balls, parties, entertainments, the organisation of public games and athletic tournaments, races and all kinds of sports. Some will prefer to continue in the service of the state. Actors, artists, sculptors, musicians and others will go on working for their own pleasure and honour. Some will devote their leisure to science, art or literature. Others will prefer to travel on the state's theme-ships to different parts of the world to see for themselves all the things of which most of us have now but a dim and vague conception. The wonders of India and Egypt, the glories of Rome, the artistic treasures of the continent and the sublime scenery of other lands. Thus, for the first time in the history of humanity, the benefits and pleasures conferred upon mankind by science and civilisation will be enjoyed equally by all, upon one condition, that they shall all do their share of the work. That is necessary in order to make all these things possible. These are the principles upon which the co-operative commonwealth of the future will be organised. The state in which no one will be distinguished or honoured above its fellows except for virtue or talent, where no man will find his prophet in another's loss, and we shall no longer be masters and servants, but brothers, free men and friends, where there will be no weary, broken men and women passing their joyless lives in toil and want, and no little children crying because they are hungry or cold. A state wherein it will be possible to put into practice the teachings of him whom so many now pretend to follow, a society which shall have justice and co-operation for its foundation, and international brotherhood and love for its law. Such are the days that shall be, but what are the deeds of today, in the days of the years we dwell in that wear our lives away? Why then, and for what are we waiting? There are but three words to speak. We will it, and what is the faux man, but the dream strong, vacant and weak? O why, and for what are we waiting, while our brothers droop and die, and on every wind of the heavens a wasted life goes by? How long shall they reproach us, where crowd on crowd they dwell, poor ghosts of the wicked city, gold-crushed, hungry hell? Through squalid life they laboured and sordid grief they died, those sons of a mighty mother, those props of England's pride. They are gone, there no one can undo it, nor save our souls from the curse, but many a million cometh, and shall they be better or worse? It is we must answer and hasten and open wide the door, for the rich man's hurrying terror and the slow foot-hope of the poor, yea, the voiceless wrath of the wretched and their unlearned discontent. We must give it voice and wisdom, till the waiting tide be spent. Come then, since all things call us, the living and the dead, and o'er the weltering tangle a glimmering light is shed. As Barrington descended from the pulpit, and walked back to his accustomed seat, a loud shout of applause burst from a few men in the crowd, who stood up and waved their caps and cheered again and again, when order was restored, Philpott rose and addressed the meeting. Is there any gentleman what I'd like to ask the speaker a question? No-one spoke, and the chairman again put the question without obtaining any response, but at length one of the new hands who had been taken on about a week previously to replace another painter who had been sacked for being too slow, stood up and said there was one point that he would like a little more information about. This man had two patches on the seat of his trousers, which were also very much frayed and ragged at the bottoms of the legs. The lining of his coat was all in rags, as were also the bottoms of the sleeves. His boots were old and had been many times mended and patched. The sole of one of them had begun to separate from the upper, and he had sewn these parts together with a few stitches of copper wire. He had been out of employment for several weeks, and it was evident from the pinched expression of a still-haggered face that during that time he had not had sufficient to eat. This man was not a drunkard. Neither was he one of those semi-mythical persons who are too lazy to work. He was married and had several children. One of them, a boy of fourteen years old, earned five shillings a week as a light porter at a grocers. Being a householder, the man had a vote, but he had never hitherto taken much interest in what he called politics. In his opinion, those matters were not for the likes of him. He believed in leaving such difficult subjects to be dealt with by his betters. In his present unhappy condition he was a walking testimonial to the wisdom and virtue and benevolence of those same betters who have hitherto managed the affairs of the world with results so very satisfactory for themselves. I should like to ask the speaker, he said. Suppose that all this that he talks about is done. What's to become of the king and the royal family and all the big-pots? Here, here! cried class eagerly, and Ned Dawson and the man behind the moat both said that that's what they would like to know too. Now, I am much more concerned about what's to become of ourselves if these things are not done, said Barrington. I think we should try to cultivate a little more respect of our own families and to concern ourselves a little less about royal families. I fail to see any reason why we should worry ourselves about these people. They're all right. They have all they need. And, as far as I'm aware, nobody wishes to harm them, and they're well able to look after themselves. They were far the same as the other rich people. I should like to ask, said Harlow, what's to become of all the gold and silver and copper money? Wouldn't it be of no use at all? It would be of far more use under socialism than it is at present. The state would, of course, become possessed of a large quantity of it in the early stages of the development of the socialist system, because at first, while the state would be paying all its officers and productive workers and paper, the rest of the community, those not in the state employ, would be paying their taxes in gold as at present. All travellers under state railways, other than state employees, would pay their fares in metal money, and gold and silver would pour into the state treasury from many other sources. The state would receive gold and silver, and for the most part, pay out paper. By the time the system of state employment was fully established, gold and silver would be only a valuable metal, and the state would purchase it from whoever possessed and wished to sell it. So much per pound as raw material, instead of hiding it away in the vaults of banks or locking it up in iron safes, we shall make use of it. Some of the gold will be manufactured into articles of jewellery, to be sold for paper money, and worn by the sweethearts and wives and daughters of the workers. Some of it will be beaten out into gold leaf, to be used in the decoration of the houses of the citizens and the public buildings. As for the silver, it will be made into various articles of utility for domestic use. The workers will not then as now have to eat their food with poisonous leather brass spoons and forks. We shall have these things of silver, and if there is not enough silver, we shall probably have a non-poisonous alloy of that metal. As far as I can make out, said Harlow, the paper money will be just as valuable as gold and silver is now. Well, what's to prevent artful dodgers like old misery and rustin', savin' it all up, and buyin' and sellin' things with it, and so livin' without work? Of course, said Crass scornfully, that'd never do. Well, that's a very simple matter. Any man who lives without doin' any useful work is livin' on the labour of others. He is robin' others of part of the results of their labour. The object of socialism is to stop this robbery, to make it impossible, so no one will be able to hoard or to accumulate the paper money, because it will be dated, and it will become worthless if it is not spent within a certain time after its issue. And as for buyin' and sellin' for profit, from whom will they buy, and to whom will they sell? Well, they might buy some of the things the workers didn't want, for lest that the workers paid for them, and then they could sell them again. And they'd have to sell them for less than the price charged at the national stores, and if you think about it a little, you'll see that it would not be very profitable. It would be with the object of preventing any attempts at private trading, that the administration would refuse to pay compensation to private owners in a lump sum. All such compensations would be paid, as I said, in the form of a pension, of so much per year. Another very effective way to prevent private trading would be to make it a criminal offence against the well-being of the community. At present many forms of business are illegal unless you take out a license. Under socialism no one would be allowed to trade without a license, and no licenses would be issued. Wouldn't a man be allowed to save up his money if he wanted to? Demanded slime with indignation. There would be nothing to prevent a man from going without some of the things he might have, if he is foolish enough to do so, but he would never be able to save enough to avoid doing his share of useful service. Besides, what need would there be for anyone to save? One's old age would be provided for, no one could ever be out of employment, if one was ill the state hospitals and medical service would be free, as for one's children, they would attend the state free schools and colleges, and when of age they would enter the state service, their futures provided for. Can you tell us why anyone would need or wish to save? Slime couldn't. Are there any more questions? Demanded Philpot. While we are speaking of money, added Barrington, I should like to remind you that even under the present system there are many things which cost money to maintain, that we enjoy without having to pay for directly. The public roads and pavements cost money to make and maintain and light, so do the parks, museums and bridges, but they are free to all. Under a socialist administration, this principle would be extended. In addition to the free services we enjoy now, we shall then maintain the trains and railways for the use of the public, free, and as time goes on this method of doing business will be adopted in many other directions. I've read somewhere, said Harlow, that whenever a government in any country has started issuing paper money it has always led to bankruptcy. How do you know the same thing would not happen under a socialist administration? Here, there, said Kras, I was just going to say the same thing. If the government of a country began to issue large amount of paper money under the present system, barrington replied, it would inevitably lead to bankruptcy, for the simple reason that paper money under the present system, banknotes, bank drafts, postal orders, checks or any other form, is merely a printed promise to pay the amount in gold or silver on demand or at a certain date. Under the present system if a government issues more paper money than it possesses gold and silver to redeem, it is of course bankrupt, but the paper money that will be issued under a socialist administration will not be a promise to pay in gold or silver on demand or at any time. It will be a promise to supply commodities to the amount specified on the note. Nan, as there could be no dearth of those things, there could be no possibility of bankruptcy. I should like to know who's going to appoint the officers of this industrial army, said the man on the pale. We don't want to be bullied and chivied and chased about by a lot of sergeants and corporals like a lot of soldiers, you know. There, there, said Kras. You must have some masters. Someone's got to be in charge of the work. We don't have to put up with any bullying or chivying or chasing now, do we? said Barrington. So of course we could not have anything of that sort under socialism. We could not put up with it at all, even if it were only for four or five hours a day. Under the present system we have no voice in appointing our masters and overseers and foremen. We have no choice as to what masters we shall work under. If our masters do not treat us fairly, we have no remedy against them. Under socialism it will be different. The workers will be part of the community. The officers, our managers and foremen will be servants of the community. And if any one of these men were to abuse his position, he could be promptly removed. As for the details of the organization of an industrial army, the difficulty is, again, not so much to devise a way, but to decide which of the many ways would be the best, and the perfect way would probably be developed only after experiment and experience. The one thing we have to hold fast, who is the fundamental principle of state employment or national service, production for youth and not for profit, the national organization of industry under democratic control. One way of arranging this business would be for the community to elect a parliament in much the same way as is done at present. The only persons eligible for election to be veterans of the industrial army, men and women who would put in their twenty-five years of service. This administrative body would have control of the different state departments, but there would be a department of agriculture, a department of railways and so on, each with its minister and staff. All these members of parliament would be relatives, in some cases the mothers and fathers of those in industrial service, and they would be relied upon to see that the conditions of that service were the best possible. As for the different branches of the state service, they would be organized on somewhat the same lines as the different branches of the public service are now, like the navy and the post office and the state railways in some other countries, or as different branches of the military army, with a difference that all promotions would be from the ranks by examinations and by merit only. As every recruit will have had the same class of education, they will all have absolute equality of opportunity, and the men who would attain to positions of authority would be the best men, and not as at present the worst. How do you make that out? Demanded crass. While under the present system the men who become masters and employers succeed because they are cunning and selfish, not because they understand or are capable of doing the work out of which they make their money, most of the employers in the building trade, for instance, would be incapable of doing any skilled work, very few of them will be worth our salt as a journeyman. The only work they do is to scheme and to reap the benefit of the labour of others. The men who now become managers and foremen are selected not because of their ability as craftsmen, but because they are good slave-drivers and useful producers of profit for their employers. How are you going to prevent the selfish and the cunning, as you call them, from getting on top then as they do now? said Harlow. They were the fact that all the workers will receive the same pay, no matter what class of work they are engaged in, or what their position will ensure they are getting the very best man to do all the higher work and to organise our business. Crass laughed. What? Everybody gets the same wages? Yes, there will be such an enormous quantity of everything produced that their wages will enable everyone to purchase abundance of everything they require. Even if some were paid more money than others, they would not be able to spend it, there would be no need to save it, and as there will be no starving poor, there would be no one to give it away to. If it were possible to save and accumulate money, it would bring it to being an idle class living on their fellows. It would lead to the downfall of our system and the return to the same anarchy that exists at present. Besides, if higher wages were paid to those engaged in the higher work or occupying positions of authority, it would prevent our getting the best men. Unfit persons would try for the positions because of the higher pay. That is what happens now. Under the present system, men intrigue for and obtain or are pitched forked into positions for which they have no natural ability at all. The only reason they desire these positions is because of the salaries attached to them. These fellows get the money and the work is done by underpaid subordinates, whom the world never hears of. Under socialism this money incentive will be done away with, and consequently the only men who will try for these positions will be those who, being naturally fitted for the work, would like to do it. For instance, a man who is a born organizer will not refuse to undertake such work because he will not be paid more for it. Such a man will desire to do it, and will esteem it a privilege to be allowed to do it. He will revel in it. To think out all the details of some undertaking, to plan and scheme and organize, is not work for a man like that. It's a pleasure. But for a man who has sought and secured such a position, not because he liked the work, but because he liked the salary, such work as this would be unpleasant labour. Under socialism the unfit man would not apply for that post, but would strive after some other for which he was fit, and which he would therefore desire and enjoy. There are some men who would rather have charge of and organize and be responsible for work than to do it with their hands. There are others who would rather do delicate or difficult or artistic work than plain work. A man who was a born artist would rather paint a freeze or a picture or carve a statue than he would do plain work, or take charge of and direct the labour of others. And there are another sort of men who would rather do ordinary plain work than take charge or attempt higher branches for which they have neither liking or natural talent. But there is one thing, a most important point that you seem to entirely lose sight of, and that is that all these different kinds and classes are equal in one respect. They're all equally necessary. Each is a necessary and indispensable part of the whole. Therefore everyone who has done his full share of necessary work is justly entitled to a full share of the results. The men who puts the slates on are just as indispensable as the men who lay the foundations. The work of the men who build the walls and make the doors is just as necessary as the work of the men who decorate the cornice. None of them would be of much use without the architect, and the plans of the architect would come to nothing. His building would be a mere castle in the air, if it were not for the workers. Each part of the work is equally necessary, useful, and indispensable if the building is to be perfected. Some of these men work harder with their brains than with their hands, and some work harder with their hands than with their brains, but each one does his full share of the work. This truth will be recognized and acted upon by those who build up and maintain the fabric of our cooperative commonwealth. Every man who does his full share of the useful and necessary work according to his abilities shall have his full share of the total result. Herein will be its great difference from the present system, under which it is possible for the cunning and selfish ones to take advantage of the simplicity of others and rob them of part of the fruits of their labour. As for those who will be engaged in the higher branches, they will be sufficiently rewarded by being privileged to do the work they are fitted for and enjoy. The only men and women who are capable of good and great work of any kind, are those who, being naturally fit for it, love the work for its own sake and not for the money it brings them. Under the present system, many men who have known need of money produce great works, not for gain, but for pleasure. Their wealth enables them to follow their natural inclinations. Under the present system, many men and women capable of great works are prevented from giving expression to their powers by poverty and lack of opportunity. They live in sorrow and die heartbroken, and the community is the loser. These are the men and women who will be our artists, sculptors, architects, engineers, and captains of industry. Under the present system, there are men at the head of affairs whose only object is the accumulation of money. Some of them possess great abilities, and the system has practically compelled them to employ those abilities for their own selfish ends, to the heart of the community. Some of them have built up great fortunes out of the sweat and blood and tears of men and women and little children. For those who delight in such work as this, there will be no place in our co-operative commonwealth. Is there any more questions? demanded Philpot. Yes, said Harlow. If there won't be no extra pay, and if anybody will have all they need for just doing their part of the work, what encouragement will there be for any one to worry his brains about trying to invent some new machine, or to make some new discovery? Well, said Barrington, I think that's covered by the last answer. But if a were-found necessary, which is highly improbable, to offer some material reward in addition to the respect, esteem, or honour that would be enjoyed by the author of an invention, that was to be a boon to the community, it could be arranged by allowing him to retire before the expiration of his 25-year service. The boon he had conferred upon the community by the invention would be considered equivalent to so many years' work. But a man like that would not desire to cease working. That sort go on working all their lives for love. There's Edison, for instance. He's one of the very few inventors who have made money out of their work. He's a rich man. But the only use his wealth seems to be to him is to procure himself facilities for going on with his work. His life is a round of what some people would call painful labour, but it's not painful labour to him. It's just pleasure. He works for the love of it. Another way would be to absolve a man of that sort from the necessity of ordinary work, so as to give him a chance to get on with other inventions. It would be to the best interests of the community to encourage him in every way, and to place materials and facilities at his disposal. But you must remember that even under the present system, honour and praise are held to be greater than money. How many soldiers would prefer money to the honour of wearing the intrinsically valueless Victoria Cross? Even now men think less of money than they do of the respect, esteem or honour that they are able to procure with it. Many men spend the greater part of their lives striving to accumulate money, and when they have succeeded they proceed to spend it to obtain the respect of their fellow men. Some of them spend thousands of pounds for the honour of being able to write MP after their names, others by titles, others pay huge sums to gain admission to exclusive circles of society, others give them money away in charity, or found libraries or universities. The reason they do these things is that they desire to be applauded and honoured by their fellow men. This desire is strongest in the most capable men, the men of genius. Therefore under socialism the principal incentive to great work will be the same as now, honour and praise. But under the present system honour and praise can be bought with money, and it does not matter much how the money was obtained. Under socialism it would be different. The cross of honour and the laurel cross will not be bought and sold for filthy lucre. There would be supreme rewards of virtue and of talent. —Anyone else like to be flattened out? —inquired Philpot. —What would you do with them that spends all their money in drink? —asked Slime. —I might reasonably ask you, what's done with them, or what do you propose to do with them now? There are many men and women whose lives are so full of toil and sorrow and the misery caused by abject poverty, who are so shut out from all that makes life worth living, that the time they spend in the public houses is the only ray of sunshine in their cheerless lives. Their mental and material poverty is so great that they are deprived of and incapable of understanding the intellectual and social pleasures of civilisation. Under socialism there would be no such class as this. Everyone would be educated, and social life and rational pleasure would be within the reach of all. Therefore we do not believe that there would be such a class. Any individuals who abandoned themselves to such a course would be avoided by their fellows. But if they became very degraded, we should still remember that they were our brother men and women. And we would regard them as suffering from a disease inherited from their uncivilised forefathers, and try to cure them by placing them under some restraint in an institute, for instance. Another good way to deal with them, said Harlow, would be to allow them double pay, so as they could drink themselves to death. We could do it without a lick of them. Call the next case, said Philpot. This here abundance that you're always talking about, said Crass, you can't be sure that it would be possible to produce all that. You only assume and that it could be done. Barrington pointed to the still visible outlines of the oblong that Owen had drawn on the wall to illustrate a previous lecture. Even under the present silly system of restricted production, with the majority of the population engaged in useless unproductive unnecessary work, and large numbers never doing any work at all, there is enough produce to go all round after a fashion. More than enough, for inconsequence of what they call overproduction, the markets are periodically glutted with commodities of all kinds, and then for a time the factories are closed and production ceased, and yet we can all manage to exist after a fashion. This proves that if productive industry were organized on the lines advocated by socialists, there could be produced such a prodigious quantity of everything that everyone could live in plenty and comfort. The problem of how to produce sufficient for all to enjoy abundance is already solved. The problem that then remains is, how to get rid of those whose greed and callous indifference to the suffering of others, prevents it being done. Yeah, and you'll never be able to get rid of them, mate! Cried Crass triumphantly, and the man with the copper wire stitches in his boot said that it couldn't be done. Well, we need to have a good try anyhow, said Barrington. Crass and most of the others tried hard to think of something to say in defence of the existing state of affairs, or against the proposals put forward by the lecturer, but finding nothing they maintained a sullen and gloomy silence. The man with the copper wire stitches in his boot in particular appeared to be very much upset. Perhaps he was afraid that if the things advocated by the speaker ever came to pass, he would not have any boots at all. To assume that he had some such thoughts as this is the only rational way to account for his hostility, for in his case no change could have been made for the worse, unless it reduced him to almost absolute nakedness and starvation. To judge by their unwillingness to consider any proposals to alter the present system one might have supposed that they were afraid of losing something, instead of having nothing to lose except their poverty. End of Chapter 45 Part 3