The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists [76]
Bible was the word of God, 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 fashion.
`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 nobody else, what's got any sense,' replied Harlow, contemptuously.
`I believe as THIS world is 'ell,' said Crass, looking around with a philosophic expression. This opinion was echoed by most of the others, although Slyme remained silent and Owen laughed.
`Wot the bloody 'ell are YOU laughin' at?' Crass demanded in an indignant tone.
`I was laughing because you said you think this world is hell.'
`Well, I don't see nothing to laugh at in that,' said Crass.
`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 hell: and yet you are a Conservative! You wish to preserve the present system - the system which has made the world into a hell!'
`I thought we shouldn't get through the dinner hour without politics if Owen was 'ere,' growled Bundy. `Bloody 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.
Crass, 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 Crass, `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 attitude 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 Crass. `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 - competition - capitalism.'
`It's all very well to talk like that,' snarled Crass, 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 Crass.
`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
`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 nobody else, what's got any sense,' replied Harlow, contemptuously.
`I believe as THIS world is 'ell,' said Crass, looking around with a philosophic expression. This opinion was echoed by most of the others, although Slyme remained silent and Owen laughed.
`Wot the bloody 'ell are YOU laughin' at?' Crass demanded in an indignant tone.
`I was laughing because you said you think this world is hell.'
`Well, I don't see nothing to laugh at in that,' said Crass.
`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 hell: and yet you are a Conservative! You wish to preserve the present system - the system which has made the world into a hell!'
`I thought we shouldn't get through the dinner hour without politics if Owen was 'ere,' growled Bundy. `Bloody 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.
Crass, 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 Crass, `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 attitude 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 Crass. `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 - competition - capitalism.'
`It's all very well to talk like that,' snarled Crass, 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 Crass.
`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