This attitude towards working class pastimes was characteristic of British socialists like the Fabians who urged the value of ‘rational recreation’ as opposed to a view of leisure as amusement, diversion or the pursuit of pleasure. Indeed, it was because so many socialists held the belief that ‘culture’ could exert a ‘civilising’ influence that they could not fully understand the realities of working class life. And this explains, in part, their inability to win widespread support for their cause. Owen, in other words, is as much to blame as the philanthropists for the failure of socialism in the novel. His scornful attitude towards their enjoyments alienates the philanthropists, making them unsympathetic to both his analysis of capitalism and his advocacy of socialism.
Society has of course changed in the eighty-five years since Tressell’s book was first published. The Marxist idea of class for instance, which prevails in the novel, has been criticised for being too simplistic. In particular it is now claimed that political, social and cultural phenomena are not merely the effects of the economic base but have their own autonomy and dynamic laws of development. The Marxist idea of class took no account of gender, or ethnicity or how people perceived their own class position. In addition, while someone could be categorised as working class because of their occupation, they could also be deemed middle class because of their cultural pursuits. Moreover, the term ‘working class’ presumes a uniformity of beliefs and practices which is not borne out by the diversity of ‘working class’ experience. Accordingly, modern commentators tend to study the history of ‘the working class’ less in terms of the growth of the trade union movement and the rise of the Labour party and more in terms of attitudes toward the home, the market place, the locality and the body.
But these ‘new’ ideas about class can also be found in The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists alongside the more traditional view. The novel demonstrates that class is composed of a number of different levels; it is not exclusively economic but also political, ideological and cultural. Moreover, there is no necessary connection between these different levels; Owen, for example, a member of ‘the working class’ values ‘high culture’ (p.29) whereas ‘The Brigands’, members of ‘the ruling class’ have no sense or understanding of culture at all (chapter 38); ‘[d]evoid of every ennobling thought or aspiration, they grovelled on the filthy ground, tearing up the flowers to get at the worms’(p.459).
With the abandonment of the Marxist concept of class, the view that capitalism is not going to be violently overthrown has now been accepted. The emphasis is on resistance, not revolution. This resistance which is rooted in the practices of everyday life, involves one adapting, manipulating or tricking the system so as to create one’s own meanings in opposition to those the system would like to impose.5 This view of resistance can also be found in The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists. Work, as Tressell shows, provides opportunities to make tactical raids on the system. Philpot, for example, ceases work to enjoy a ‘quiet smoke, remarking to himself: “This is where we get some of our own back.”’ (p.38), an idea that is repeated in chapters 8, 9, 21, and 42. The drawback is that such resistance, isolated and individual, never poses a real threat to the system and that is why Tressell ultimately emphasises the importance of class consciousness since that, he believes, is the basis for real change in society.
Tressell’s socialism is firmly rooted in its time, but this does not mean that it has no relevance to our society where there are still extremes of wealth and where one third of the working population is in low paid, insecure employment. Its relevance lies in its Utopian quality, and Utopia never goes out of fashion. What The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists proposes is a ‘co-operative commonwealth’ where ‘the benefits and pleasures conferred…by science and civilisation will be enjoyed equally by all’ (p.485). As such it provides a model by which to critique the present and plan for the future. The power of the novel lies in its ability to move us by the promise of a better life not in the tensions of its various socialisms. Indeed, the variety of socialisms in the novel make it eclectic rather than doctrinaire. Although this leads to certain inconsistencies, for example Tressell demanding the overthrow of capitalism while simultaneously supporting it by subscribing to its cultural heritage, it does not diminish the appeal of its vision. It is that vision which still has something to say to us today.
The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists as Literature
Despite, or perhaps because of its enormous popularity The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists has not received the critical attention it deserves. Its status as art has been compromised by its espousal of socialism. Such partisan writing goes against the tradition of the English novel which ‘first explore[s] to find “the true facts of this world” and then face[s] them to enable the reader to draw the necessary conclusions.’6 Angus Wilson, on the other hand, has argued that, since Jane Austen, ‘the English novel has shied away from essentials, reducing good and evil to mere right and wrong.’7 Seen in this light the passionate commitment of Tressell’s book represents a return to the fundamental duty of novel writing: to elaborate and advocate a notion of the good.
The literary credentials of Tressell’s novel are manifold, and are apparent in its imaginative force, its unity and its relation to tradition. Imaginative force refers to the quality of writing; the vividness of character, the sharply realised situations and the intensity of the vision. All these combine to produce a powerful effect on the reader. As a review in 1914 enthuses, ‘There is no one, no one at all, who will be, after reading it, quite the same as he was before.’8 Within the novel, imagination is also a stimulus to change. It is Owen’s ability to imagine his own son, Frankie, in the position of the young apprentice, Bert, toiling in the cold, poisonous workshop (p. 562) that enables him to demand that Rushton give the boy a fire. More generally, imagination is also the ability to envisage a different order of society, something of which the philanthropists are consistently incapable. ‘“That’s the worst of your arguments” says Crass to Owen, ‘[y]ou can’t never get very far without supposing some bloody ridiclus thing or other. Never mind about supposing things wot ain’t true; let’s ’ave facts and common sense’” (p. 29). This is a singularly ironic remark since, as the novel shows quite plainly, it is Crass who is ignorant of the facts and devoid of common sense. It is this failure of the philanthropists to understand the society they live in that prevents them from imagining a better one. The society of the imagination is one built on relationships not barriers. It is therefore inclusive and, in this way, the imaginative vision of the novel transcends the limitations of its class based analysis.
One of the reasons why the novel’s imaginative vision is so compelling lies in its fundamental unity, especially of imagery. This quality only became apparent when the full text was published in 1955. The main image in the book is that of a house, which represents both capitalist and socialist society. In repairing and decorating the house known as the ‘Cave’ the philanthropists are seen to be perpetuating the system that oppresses them. Barrington also uses the image of a house to explain the co-operative nature of socialism. ‘The men who put the slates on’, he notes, ‘are just as indispensable as the men who lay the foundations’ (p. 492). The use of the same image for both socialism and capitalism suggests that there is an affinity between the two systems and this complicates other parts of the novel where they are shown to exist in complete opposition to one another.
Capitalism itself is described as the ‘Battle of Life’ (p. 204). There are two main images associated with this battle; crime and evolution, the former being the most obvious. Throughout the novel the philanthropists are ironically referred to as criminals, ironically because it is not they who are shown to commit any illegal acts but rather Rushton, Didlum and Sweater who ‘robbed everybody’ (p.405). That, of course, is why they are called