TheRaggedTrouseredPhilanthropists.pdf

The Ragged Trousered

Philanthropists

Robert Tressell

Preface

In writing this book my intention was to present, in the form of

an interesting story, a faithful picture of working-class life -

more especially of those engaged in the Building trades - in a

small town in the south of England.

I wished to describe the relations existing between the

workmen and their employers, the attitude and feelings of these

two classes towards each other; their circumstances when at

work and when out of employment; their pleasures, their

intellectual outlook, their religious and political opinions and

ideals.

The action of the story covers a period of only a little over

twelve months, but in order that the picture might be complete

it was necessary to describe how the workers are circumstanced

at all periods of their lives, from the cradle to the grave.

Therefore the characters include women and children, a young

boy - the apprentice - some improvers, journeymen in the prime

of life, and worn-out old men.

I designed to show the conditions relating from poverty and

unemployment: to expose the futility of the measures taken to

deal with them and to indicate what I believe to be the only real

remedy, namely - Socialism. I intended to explain what Socialists

understand by the word `poverty': to define the Socialist theory

of the causes of poverty, and to explain how Socialists propose

to abolish poverty.

It may be objected that, considering the number of books

dealing with these subjects already existing, such a work as this

was uncalled for. The answer is that not only are the majority of

people opposed to Socialism, but a very brief conversation with

an average anti-socialist is sufficient to show that he does not

know what Socialism means. The same is true of all the anti-

socialist writers and the `great statesmen' who make anti-

socialist speeches: unless we believe that they are deliberate

liars and imposters, who to serve their own interests labour to

mislead other people, we must conclude that they do not

understand Socialism. There is no other possible explanation of

the extraordinary things they write and say. The thing they cry

out against is not Socialism but a phantom of their own

imagining.

Another answer is that `The Philanthropists' is not a treatise or

essay, but a novel. My main object was to write a readable story

full of human interest and based on the happenings of everyday

life, the subject of Socialism being treated incidentally.

This was the task I set myself. To what extent I have succeeded

is for others to say; but whatever their verdict, the work

possesses at least one merit - that of being true. I have invented

nothing. There are no scenes or incidents in the story that I have

not either witnessed myself or had conclusive evidence of. As far

as I dared I let the characters express themselves in their own

sort of language and consequently some passages may be

considered objectionable. At the same time I believe that -

because it is true - the book is not without its humorous side.

The scenes and characters are typical of every town in the South

of England and they will be readily recognized by those

concerned. If the book is published I think it will appeal to a very

large number of readers. Because it is true it will probably be

denounced as a libel on the working classes and their employers,

and upon the religious-professing section of the community. But

I believe it will be acknowledged as true by most of those who

are compelled to spend their lives amid the surroundings it

describes, and it will be evident that no attack is made upon

sincere religion.

Chapter 1

An Imperial Banquet. A Philosophical Discussion. The Mysterious

Stranger. Britons Never shall be Slaves

The house was named `The Cave'. It was a large old-fashioned

three-storied building standing in about an acre of ground, and

situated about a mile outside the town of Mugsborough. It stood

back nearly two hundred yards from the main road and was

reached by means of a by-road or lane, on each side of which

was a hedge formed of hawthorn trees and blackberry bushes.

This house had been unoccupied for many years and it was now

being altered and renovated for its new owner by the firm of

Rushton & Co., Builders and Decorators.

There were, altogether, about twenty-five men working there,

carpenters, plumbers, plasterers, bricklayers and painters,

besides several unskilled labourers. New floors were being put

in where the old ones were decayed, and upstairs two of the

rooms were being made into one by demolishing the parting

wall and substituting an iron girder. Some of the window frames

and sashes were so rotten that they were being replaced. Some

of the ceilings and walls were so cracked and broken that they

had to be replastered. Openings were cut through walls and

doors were being put where no doors had been before. Old

broken chimney pots were being taken down and new ones

were being taken up and fixed in their places. All the old

whitewash had to be washed off the ceilings and all the old

paper had to be scraped off the walls preparatory to the house

being repainted and decorated. The air was full of the sounds of

hammering and sawing, the ringing of trowels, the rattle of pails,

the splashing of water brushes, and the scraping of the stripping

knives used by those who were removing the old wallpaper.

Besides being full of these the air was heavily laden with dust

and disease germs, powdered mortar, lime, plaster, and the dirt

that had been accumulating within the old house for years. In

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