The March of the Imperialists
It was an unusually fine day for the time of year, and as they passed
along the Grand Parade—which faced due south—they felt quite warm. The
Parade was crowded with richly dressed and bejewelled loafers, whose
countenances in many instances bore unmistakable signs of drunkenness
and gluttony. Some of the females had tried to conceal the ravages of
vice and dissipation by coating their faces with powder and paint.
Mingling with and part of this crowd were a number of well-fed-looking
individuals dressed in long garments of black cloth of the finest
texture, and broad-brimmed soft felt hats. Most of these persons had
gold rings on their soft white fingers and glove-like kid or calfskin
boots on their feet. They belonged to the great army of imposters who
obtain an easy living by taking advantage of the ignorance and
simplicity of their fellow-men, and pretending to be the “followers”
and “servants” of the lowly Carpenter of Nazareth—the Man of Sorrows,
who had not where to lay His head.
None of these black-garbed “disciples” were associating with the groups
of unemployed carpenters, bricklayers, plasterers, and painters who
stood here and there in the carriage-way dressed in mean and shabby
clothing and with faces pale with privation. Many of these latter were
known to our friends with the cart, and nodded to them as they passed.
Now and then some of them came over and walked a little distance by
their side, inquiring whether there was any news of another job at
Rushton’s.
When they were about half-way down the Parade, just near the Fountain,
Crass and his mates encountered a number of men on whose arms were
white bands with the word “Collector” in black letters. They carried
collecting boxes and accosted the people in the street, begging for
money for the unemployed. These men were a kind of skirmishers for the
main body, which could be seen some distance behind.
As the procession drew near, Sawkins steered the cart into the kerb and
halted as they went past. There were about three hundred men
altogether, marching four abreast. They carried three large white
banners with black letters, “Thanks to our Subscribers”, “In aid of
Genuine Unemployed”, “The Children must be Fed”. Although there were a
number of artisans in the procession, the majority of the men belonged
to what is called the unskilled labourer class. The skilled artisan
does not as a rule take part in such a procession except as a very last
resource... And all the time he strives to keep up an appearance of
being well-to-do, and would be highly indignant if anyone suggested
that he was really in a condition of abject, miserable poverty.
Although he knows that his children are often not so well fed as are
the pet dogs and cats of his “betters”, he tries to bluff his
neighbours into thinking that he has some mysterious private means of
which they know nothing, and conceals his poverty as if it were a
crime. Most of this class of men would rather starve than beg.
Consequently not more than a quarter of the men in the procession were
skilled artisans; the majority were labourers.
There was also a sprinkling of those unfortunate outcasts of
society—tramps and destitute, drunken loafers. If the self-righteous
hypocrites who despise these poor wretches had been subjected to the
same conditions, the majority of them would inevitably have become the
same as these.
Haggard and pale, shabbily or raggedly dressed, their boots broken and
down at heel, they slouched past. Some of them stared about with a
dazed or half-wild expression, but most of them walked with downcast
eyes or staring blankly straight in front of them. They appeared
utterly broken-spirited, hopeless and ashamed...
“Anyone can see what THEY are,” sneered Crass, “there isn’t fifty
genuine tradesmen in the whole crowd, and most of ’em wouldn’t work if
they ’ad the offer of it.”
“That’s just what I was thinkin’,” agreed Sawkins with a laugh.
“There will be plenty of time to say that when they have been offered
work and have refused to do it,” said Owen.
“This sort of thing does the town a lot of ’arm,” remarked Slyme; “it
oughtn’t to be allowed; the police ought to stop it. It’s enough to
drive all the gentry out of the place!”
“Bloody disgraceful, I call it,” said Crass, “marchin’ along the Grand
Parade on a beautiful day like this, just at the very time when most of
the gentry is out enjoyin’ the fresh hair.”
“I suppose you think they ought to stay at home and starve quietly,”
said Owen. “I don’t see why these men should care what harm they do to
the town; the town doesn’t seem to care much what becomes of THEM.”
“Do you believe in this sort of thing, then?” asked Slyme.
“No; certainly not. I don’t believe in begging as a favour for what one
is entitled to demand as a right from the thieves who have robbed them
and who are now enjoying the fruits of their labour. From the look of
shame on their faces you might think that they were the criminals
instead of being the victims.”
“Well you must admit that most of them is very inferior men,” said
Crass with a self-satisfied air. “There’s very few mechanics amongst
em.”
“What about it if they are? What difference does that make?” replied
Owen. “They’re human beings, and they have as much right to live as
anyone else. What is called unskilled labour is just as necessary and
useful as yours or mine. I am no more capable of doing the ‘unskilled’
labour that most of these men do than most of them would be capable of
doing my work.”
“Well, if they was skilled tradesmen, they might find it easier to get
a job,” said Crass.
Owen laughed offensively.
“Do you mean to say you think that if all these men could be
transformed into skilled carpenters, plasterers, bricklayers, and
painters, that it would be easier for all those other chaps whom we
passed a little while ago to get work? Is it possible that you or any
other sane man can believe anything so silly as that?”
Crass did not reply.
“If there is not enough work to employ all the mechanics whom we see
standing idle about the streets, how would it help these labourers in
the procession if they could all become skilled workmen?”
Still Crass did not answer, and neither Slyme nor Sawkins came to his
assistance.
“If that could be done,” continued Owen, “it would simply make things
worse for those who are already skilled mechanics. A greater number of
skilled workers—keener competition for skilled workmen’s jobs—a larger
number of mechanics out of employment, and consequently, improved
opportunities for employers to reduce wages. That is probably the
reason why the Liberal Party—which consists for the most part of
exploiters of labour—procured the great Jim Scalds to tell us that
improved technical education is the remedy for unemployment and
poverty.”
“I suppose you think Jim Scalds is a bloody fool, the same as everybody
else what don’t see things YOUR way?” said Sawkins.
“I should think he was a fool if I thought he believed what he says.
But I don’t think he believes it. He says it because he thinks the
majority of the working classes are such fools that they will believe
him. If he didn’t think that most of us are fools he wouldn’t tell us
such a yarn as that.”
“And I suppose you think as ’is opinion ain’t far wrong,” snarled
Crass.
“We shall be better able to judge of that after the next General
Election,” replied Owen. “If the working classes again elect a majority
of Liberal or Tory landlords and employers to rule over them, it will
prove that Jim Scalds’ estimate of their intelligence is about right.”
“Well, anyhow,” persisted Slyme, “I don’t think it’s a right thing that
they should be allowed to go marchin’ about like that—driving visitors
out of the town.”
“What do you think they ought to do, then?” demanded Owen.
“Let the b—rs go to the bloody workhouse!” shouted Crass.
“But before they could be received there they would have to be
absolutely homeless and destitute, and then the ratepayers would have
to keep them. It costs about twelve shillings a week for each inmate,
so it seems to me that it would be more sensible and economical for the
community to employ them on some productive work.”
They had by this time arrived at the yard. The steps and ladders were
put away in their places and the dirty paint-pots and pails were placed
in the paint-shop on the bench and on the floor. With what had
previously been brought back there were a great many of these things,
all needing to be cleaned out, so Bert at any rate stood in no danger
of being out of employment for some time to come.
When they were paid at the office, Owen on opening his envelope found
it contained as usual, a time sheet for the next week, which meant that
he was not “stood off” although he did not know what work there would
be to do. Crass and Slyme were both to go to the “Cave” to fix the
venetian blinds, and Sawkins also was to come to work as usual.