the ragged trousered philanthropists-第50节

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They　all　reviled　Hunter；　but　most　of　them　would　have　been　glad　to　change　places　with　him　also：　and　if　any　one　of　them　had　been　in　his　place　they　would　have　been　compelled　to　do　the　same　things；　or　lose　the　job。

They　all　hated　and　blamed　Rushton。　　Yet　if　they　had　been　in　Rushton's　place　they　would　have　been　compelled　to　adopt　the　same　methods；　or　become　bankrupt：　for　it　is　obvious　that　the　only　way　to　compete　successfully　against　other　employers　who　are　sweaters　is　to　be　a　sweater　yourself。　　Therefore　no　one　who　is　an　upholder　of　the　present　system　can　consistently　blame　any　of　these　men。　　Blame　the　system。

If　you；　reader；　had　been　one　of　the　hands；　would　you　have　slogged？　　Or　would　you　have　preferred　to　starve　and　see　your　family　starve？　　If　you　had　been　in　Crass's　place；　would　you　have　resigned　rather　than　do　such　dirty　work？　　If　you　had　had　Hunter's　berth；　would　you　have　given　it　up　and　voluntarily　reduced　yourself　to　the　level　of　the　hands？　　If　you　had　been　Rushton；　would　you　rather　have　become　bankrupt　than　treat　your　‘hands'　and　your　customers　in　the　same　way　as　your　competitors　treated　theirs？　　It　may　be　that；　so　placed；　you　…　being　the　noble…minded　paragon　that　you　are　…　would　have　behaved　unselfishly。　But　no　one　has　any　right　to　expect　you　to　sacrifice　yourself　for　the　benefit　of　other　people　who　would　only　call　you　a　fool　for　your　pains。　It　may　be　true　that　if　any　one　of　the　hands　…　Owen；　for　instance　…　had　been　an　employer　of　labour；　he　would　have　done　the　same　as　other　employers。　　Some　people　seem　to　think　that　proves　that　the　present　system　is　all　right！　　But　really　it　only　proves　that　the　present　system　compels　selfishness。　　One　must　either　trample　upon　others　or　be　trampled　upon　oneself。　　Happiness　might　be　possible　if　everyone　were　unselfish；　if　everyone　thought　of　the　welfare　of　his　neighbour　before　thinking　of　his　own。　　But　as　there　is　only　a　very　small　percentage　of　such　unselfish　people　in　the　world；　the　present　system　has　made　the　earth　into　a　sort　of　hell。　　Under　the　present　system　there　is　not　sufficient　of　anything　for　everyone　to　have　enough。　　Consequently　there　is　a　fight　…　called　by　Christians　the　‘Battle　of　Life'。　　In　this　fight　some　get　more　than　they　need；　some　barely　enough；　some　very　little；　and　some　none　at　all。　　The　more　aggressive；　cunning；　unfeeling　and　selfish　you　are　the　better　it　will　be　for　you。　　As　long　as　this　‘Battle　of　Life'　System　endures；　we　have　no　right　to　blame　other　people　for　doing　the　same　things　that　we　are　ourselves　compelled　to　do。　　Blame　the　system。

But　that　IS　just　what　the　hands　did　not　do。　　They　blamed　each　other；　they　blamed　Crass；　and　Hunter；　and　Rushton；　but　with　the　Great　System　of　which　they　were　all　more　or　less　the　victims　they　were　quite　content；　being　persuaded　that　it　was　the　only　one　possible　and　the　best　that　human　wisdom　could　devise。　　The　reason　why　they　all　believed　this　was　because　not　one　of　them　had　ever　troubled　to　inquire　whether　it　would　not　be　possible　to　order　things　differently。　　They　were　content　with　the　present　system。　　If　they　had　not　been　content　they　would　have　been　anxious　to　find　some　way　to　alter　it。　　But　they　had　never　taken　the　trouble　to　seriously　inquire　whether　it　was　possible　to　find　some　better　way；　and　although　they　all　knew　in　a　hazy　fashion　that　other　methods　of　managing　the　affairs　of　the　world　had　already　been　proposed；　they　neglected　to　inquire　whether　these　other　methods　were　possible　or　practicable；　and　they　were　ready　and　willing　to　oppose　with　ignorant　ridicule　or　brutal　force　any　man　who　was　foolish　or　quixotic　enough　to　try　to　explain　to　them　the　details　of　what　he　thought　was　a　better　way。　　They　accepted　the　present　system　in　the　same　way　as　they　accepted　the　alternating　seasons。　　They　knew　that　there　was　spring　and　summer　and　autumn　and　winter。　　As　to　how　these　different　seasons　came　to　be；　or　what　caused　them；　they　hadn't　the　remotest　notion；　and　it　is　extremely　doubtful　whether　the　question　had　ever　occurred　to　any　of　them：　but　there　is　no　doubt　whatever　about　the　fact　that　none　of　them　knew。　　From　their　infancy　they　had　been　trained　to　distrust　their　own　intelligence；　and　to　leave　the　management　of　the　affairs　of　the　world　…　and　for　that　matter　of　the　next　world　too　…　to　their　betters；　and　now　most　of　them　were　absolutely　incapable　of　thinking　of　any　abstract　subject　whatever。　　Nearly　all　their　betters　…　that　is；　the　people　who　do　nothing　…　were　unanimous　in　agreeing　that　he　present　system　is　a　very　good　one　and　that　it　is　impossible　to　alter　or　improve　it。　　Therefore　Crass　and　his　mates；　although　they　knew　nothing　whatever　about　it　themselves；　accepted　it　as　an　established；　incontrovertible　fact　that　the　existing　state　of　things　is　immutable。　　They　believed　it　because　someone　else　told　them　so。　They　would　have　believed　anything：　on　one　condition　…　namely；　that　they　were　told　to　believe　it　by　their　betters。　　They　said　it　was　surely　not　for　the　Like　of　Them　to　think　that　they　knew　better　than　those　who　were　more　educated　and　had　plenty　of　time　to　study。

As　the　work　in　the　drawing…room　proceeded；　Crass　abandoned　the　hope　that　Owen　was　going　to　make　a　mess　of　it。　　Some　of　the　rooms　upstairs　being　now　ready　for　papering；　Slyme　was　started　on　that　work；　Bert　being　taken　away　from　Owen　to　assist　Slyme　as　paste　boy；　and　it　was　arranged　that　Crass　should　help　Owen　whenever　he　needed　someone　to　lend　him　a　hand。

Sweater　came　frequently　during　these　four　weeks；　being　interested　in　the　progress　of　the　work。　　On　these　occasions　Crass　always　managed　to　be　present　in　the　drawing…room　and　did　most　of　the　talking。　　Owen　was　very　satisfied　with　this　arrangement；　for　he　was　always　ill　at　ease　when　conversing　with　a　man　like　Sweater；　who　spoke　in　an　offensively　patronizing　way　and　expected　common　people　to　kowtow　to　and　‘Sir'　him　at　every　second　word。　　Crass　however；　seemed　to　enjoy　doing　that　kind　of　thing。　　He　did　not　exactly　grovel　on　the　floor；　when　Sweater　spoke　to　him；　but　he　contrived　to　convey　the　impression　that　he　was　willing　to　do　so　if　desired。

Outside　the　house　Bundy　and　his　mates　had　dug　deep　trenches　in　the　damp　ground　in　which　they　were　laying　new　drains。　　This　work；　like　that　of　the　painting　of　the　inside　of　the　house；　was　nearly　completed。　It　was　a　miserable　job。　　Owing　to　the　fact　that　there　had　been　a　spell　of　bad　weather　the　ground　was　sodden　with　rain　and　there　was　mud　everywhere；　the　men's　clothing　and　boots　being　caked　with　it。　　But　the　worst　thing　about　the　job　was　the　smell。　　For　years　the　old　drain…pipes　had　been　defective　and　leaky。　　The　ground　a　few　feet　below　the　surface　was　saturated　with　fetid　moisture　and　a　stench　as　of　a　thousand　putrefying　corpse　emanated　from　the　opened　earth。　　The　clothing　of　the　men　who　were　working　in　the　hendeca　became　saturated　with　this　fearful　odour；　and　for　that　matter；　so　did　the　men　themselves。

They　said　they　could　smell　and　taste　it　all　the　time；　even　when　they　were　away　from　the　work　at　home；　and　when　they　were　at　meals。　Although　they　smoked　their　pipes　all　the　time　they　were　at　work；　Misery　having　ungraciously　given　them　permission；　several　times　Bundy　and　one　or　other　of　his　mates　were　attacked　with　fits　of　vomiting。

But；　as　they　began　to　realize　that　the　finish　of　the　job　was　in　sight；　a　kind　of　panic　seized　upon　the　hands；　especially　those　who　had　been　taken　on　last　and　who　would　therefore　be　the　first　to　be　‘stood　still'。　　Easton；　however；　felt　pretty　confident　that　Crass　would　do　his　best　to　get　him　kept　on　till　the　end　of　the　job；　for　they　had　become　quite　chummy　lately；　usually　spending　a　few　evenings　together　at　the　Cricketers　every　week。

‘There'll　be　a　bloody　slaughter　'ere　soon；'　remarked　Harlow　to　Philpot　one　day　as　they　were　painting　the　banisters　of　the　staircase。　　‘I　reckon　next　week　will　about　finish　the　inside。'

‘And　the　outside　ain't　goin'　to　take　very　long；　you　know；'　replied　Philpot。

‘They　ain't　got　no　other　work　in；　have　they？'

‘Not　that　I　knows　of；'　replied　Philpot　gloomily；　'and　I　don't　think　anyone　else　has　either。'

‘You　know　that　little　place　they　call　the　〃Kiosk〃　down　the　Grand　Parade；　near　the　bandstand；'　asked　Harlow　after　a　pause。

‘Where　they　used　to　sell　refreshments？'

‘Yes；　it　belongs　to　the　Corporation；　you　know。'

‘It's　been　closed　up　lately；　ain't　it？'

‘Yes；　the　people　who　'ad　it　couldn't　make　it　pay；　but　I　'eard　last　night　that　Grinder　the　fruit…merchant　is　goin'　to　open　it　again。　　If　it's　true；　there'll　be　a　bit　of　a　job　there　for　someone；　because　it'll　'ave　to　be　done　up。'

‘Well；　I　hope　it　does　come　orf　replied　Philpot。　　‘It'll　be　a　job　for　some　poor　brs。'

‘I　wonder　if　they've　started　anyone　yet　on　the　venetian　blinds　for　this　'ouse？'　remarked　Easton　after　a　pause。

‘I　don't　know；'　replied　Philpot。

They　relapsed　into　silence　for　a　while。

‘I　wonder　what　time　it　is？'　said　Philpot　at　length。　　‘I　don't　know　'ow　you　feel；　but　I　begin　to　want　my　dinner。'

‘That's　just　what　I　was　thinking；　it　can't　be　very　far　off　it　now。　It's　nearly　'arf　an　hour　since　Bert　went　down　to　make　the　tea。　　It　seems　a　'ell　of　a　long　morning　to　me。'

‘So　it　does　to　me；'　said　Philpot；　　‘slip　upstairs　and　ask　Slyme　what　time　it　is。'

Harlow　laid　his　brush　across　the　top　of　his　paint…pot　and　went　upstairs。