The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists Part 31

'I'm a Bush Baptist meself,' remarked the man on the upturned pail.

This individual, d.i.c.k Wantley by name, was of what is usually termed a 'rugged' cast of countenance. He reminded one strongly of an ancient gargoyle, or a dragon.

Most of the hands had by now lit their pipes, but there were a few who preferred chewing their tobacco. As they smoked or chewed they expectorated upon the floor or into the fire. Wantley was one of those who preferred chewing and he had been spitting upon the floor to such an extent that he was by this time partly surrounded by a kind of semicircular moat of dark brown spittle.

'I'm a Bush Baptist!' he shouted across the moat, 'and you all knows wot that is.'

This confession of faith caused a fresh outburst of hilarity, because of course everyone knew what a Bush Baptist was.

'If 'evven's goin' to be full of sich b--r's as Hunter,' observed Eaton, 'I think I'd rather go to the other place.'

'If ever ole Misery DOES get into 'eaven,' said Philpot, ''e won't stop there very long. I reckon 'e'll be chucked out of it before 'e's been there a week, because 'e's sure to start pinchin' the jewels out of the other saints' crowns.'

'Well, if they won't 'ave 'im in 'eaven, I'm sure I don't know wot's to become of 'im,' said Harlow with pretended concern, 'because I don't believe 'e'd be allowed into 'ell, now.'

'Why not?' demanded Bundy. 'I should think it's just the b.l.o.o.d.y place for sich b--r's as 'im.'

'So it used to be at one time o' day, but they've changed all that now.

They've 'ad a revolution down there: deposed the Devil, elected a parson as President, and started puttin' the fire out.'

'From what I hears of it,' continued Harlow when the laughter had ceased, ''ell is a b.l.o.o.d.y fine place to live in just now. There's underground railways and 'lectric trams, and at the corner of nearly every street there's a sort of pub where you can buy ice-cream, lemon squash, four ale, and American cold drinks; and you're allowed to sit in a refrigerator for two hours for a tanner.'

Although they laughed and made fun of these things the reader must not think that they really doubted the truth of the Christian religion, because--although they had all been brought up by 'Christian' parents and had been 'educated' in 'Christian' schools--none of them knew enough about Christianity to either really believe it or disbelieve it.

The imposters who obtain a comfortable living by pretending to be the ministers and disciples of the Workman of Nazareth are too cunning to encourage their dupes to acquire anything approaching an intelligent understanding of the subject. They do not want people to know or understand anything: they want them to have Faith--to believe without knowledge, understanding, or evidence. For years Harlow and his mates--when children--had been 'taught' 'Christianity' in day school, Sunday School and in church or chapel, and now they knew practically nothing about it! But they were 'Christians' all the same. They believed that the Bible was the word of G.o.d, but they didn't know where it came from, how long it had been in existence, who wrote it, who translated it or how many different versions there were. Most of them were almost totally unacquainted with the contents of the book itself.

But all the same, they believed it--after a fas.h.i.+on.

'But puttin' all jokes aside,' said Philpot, 'I can't believe there's sich a place as 'ell. There may be some kind of punishment, but I don't believe it's a real fire.'

'Nor n.o.body else, what's got any sense,' replied Harlow, contemptuously.

'I believe as THIS world is 'ell,' said Cra.s.s, looking around with a philosophic expression. This opinion was echoed by most of the others, although Slyme remained silent and Owen laughed.

'Wot the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell are YOU laughin' at?' Cra.s.s demanded in an indignant tone.

'I was laughing because you said you think this world is h.e.l.l.'

'Well, I don't see nothing to laugh at in that,' said Cra.s.s.

'So it IS a 'ell,' said Easton. 'There can't be anywheres much worse than this.'

''Ear, 'ear,' said the man behind the moat.

'What I was laughing at is this,' said Owen. 'The present system of managing the affairs of the world is so bad and has produced such dreadful results that you are of the opinion that the earth is a h.e.l.l: and yet you are a Conservative! You wish to preserve the present system--the system which has made the world into a h.e.l.l!'

'I thought we shouldn't get through the dinner hour without politics if Owen was 'ere,' growled Bundy. 'b.l.o.o.d.y sickenin' I call it.'

'Don't be 'ard on 'im,' said Philpot. ''E's been very quiet for the last few days.'

'We'll 'ave to go through it today, though,' remarked Harlow despairingly. 'I can see it comin'.'

'I'M not goin' through it,' said Bundy, 'I'm orf!' And he accordingly drank the remainder of his tea, closed his empty dinner basket and, having placed it on the mantelshelf, made for the door.

'I'll leave you to it,' he said as he went out. The others laughed.

Cra.s.s, remembering the cutting from the Obscurer that he had in his pocket, was secretly very pleased at the turn the conversation was taking. He turned roughly on Owen:

'The other day, when we was talkin' about the cause of poverty, you contradicted everybody. Everyone else was wrong! But you yourself couldn't tell us what's the cause of poverty, could you?'

'I think I could.'

'Oh, of course, you think you know,' sneered Cra.s.s, 'and of course you think your opinion's right and everybody else's is wrong.'

'Yes,' replied Owen.

Several men expressed their abhorrence of this intolerant att.i.tude of Owen's, but the latter rejoined:

'Of course I think that my opinions are right and that everyone who differs from me is wrong. If I didn't think their opinions were wrong I wouldn't differ from them. If I didn't think my own opinions right I wouldn't hold them.'

'But there's no need to keep on arguin' about it day after day,' said Cra.s.s. 'You've got your opinion and I've got mine. Let everyone enjoy his own opinion, I say.'

A murmur of approbation from the crowd greeted these sentiments; but Owen rejoined:

'But we can't both be right; if your opinions are right and mine are not, how am I to find out the truth if we never talk about them?'

'Well, wot do you reckon is the cause of poverty, then?' demanded Easton.

'The present system--compet.i.tion--capitalism.'

'It's all very well to talk like that,' snarled Cra.s.s, to whom this statement conveyed no meaning whatever. 'But 'ow do you make it out?'

'Well, I put it like that for the sake of shortness,' replied Owen.

'Suppose some people were living in a house--'

'More supposin'!' sneered Cra.s.s.

'And suppose they were always ill, and suppose that the house was badly built, the walls so constructed that they drew and retained moisture, the roof broken and leaky, the drains defective, the doors and windows ill-fitting and the rooms badly shaped and draughty. If you were asked to name, in a word, the cause of the ill-health of the people who lived there you would say--the house. All the tinkering in the world would not make that house fit to live in; the only thing to do with it would be to pull it down and build another. Well, we're all living in a house called the Money System; and as a result most of us are suffering from a disease called poverty. There's so much the matter with the present system that it's no good tinkering at it. Everything about it is wrong and there's nothing about it that's right. There's only one thing to be done with it and that is to smash it up and have a different system altogether. We must get out of it.'

'It seems to me that that's just what you're trying to do,' remanded Harlow, sarcastically. 'You seem to be tryin' to get out of answering the question what Easton asked you.'

'Yes!' cried Cra.s.s, fiercely. 'Why don't you answer the b.l.o.o.d.y question? Wot's the cause of poverty?'

'What the 'ell's the matter with the present system?' demanded Sawkins.

'Ow's it goin' to be altered?' said Newman.

'Wot the b.l.o.o.d.y 'ell sort of a system do YOU think we ought to 'ave?'

shouted the man behind the moat.

'It can't never be altered,' said Philpot. 'Human nature's human nature and you can't get away from it.'