The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists E-Book

Robert Tressell

• Herausgeber: Nick Hern Books
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Serie: NHB Modern Plays
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 118

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2014

Beschreibung

Passionate, highly entertaining and gloriously funny - Robert Tressell's classic pre-First World War account of the working lives of a group of housepainters and decorators is vividly adapted by Howard Brenton. The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists recounts the little daily successes and the disasters of a group of working-class men, living under the constant fear of being laid off by employers forever looking for new corners to cut. Both workers and bosses are caught in a system spiralling out of control, but why is it the workers always come out worse? Howard Brenton's stage adaptation, first performed at the Everyman Theatre in Liverpool in June 2010 in a co-production with Chichester Festival Theatre, lays bare the many social injustices perpetrated on these men whilst capturing their individual characters with touching truth to life.

Leseprobe

Robert Tressell

THERAGGED TROUSEREDPHILANTHROPISTS

A new adaptation by

Howard Brenton

NICK HERN BOOKS

London

www.nickhernbooks.co.uk

Contents

Title Page

Original Production

The Story of a Book

Characters

The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists

About the Author

Copyright and Performing Rights Information

This adaptation of The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists was first performed at The Everyman Theatre, Liverpool, on 17 June 2010, with the following cast:

JACK SLYME / MR DIDLUM   Dean AshtonWILL EASTON / MR GRINDERWill BeerJULIE FLOTTER / NORA OWENLouise BushOLD JOE PHILPOTLarry DannFRED HARLOW / MAYOR SWEATERTim FrancesFRANK OWEN / COMPANYFinbar LynchMR DENNIS HUNTERDes McAleerBERT WHITEThomas MorrisonKIRSTY / RUTH EASTON / MOLLYLaura ReesBUNDY / MR GEORGE RUSHTONPaul ReganALAN FLOTTER / BARRINGTON /Gyuri SarossyDR WEAKLING / NEWMANBOB CROSSNicholas TennantDirectorChristopher MorahanDesignerSimon HiglettLighting DesignerJames WhitesideSound DesignerTom LishmanComposerIlona Sekacz

The production then transferred to the Minerva Theatre, Chichester, on 15 July 2010.

The Story of a Book

Over the last century, it has come to be affectionately known as ‘the workers’ bible’.

But Robert Tressell would never know the success of his only novel The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, and the enormous imprint it left on society. A weighty tome of Edwardian working class struggle, the core messages of the book never lost resonance down the years, fuelling the Labour movement, changing lives, and inspiring its readers to this day.

Its fervent aficionados include everyone from trade union leaders and political heavyweights to cultural figureheads. George Orwell described it as a “wonderful book”, and its more contemporary converts include Slumdog Millionaire director Danny Boyle and Royle Family actor Ricky Tomlinson.

The original novel was a semi-autobiographical tale of a group of painters and decorators. When persuasive newcomer Frank Owen joins their number, he attempts to share his socialist world view. But the others, indoctrinated by the class divide, struggle to comprehend a life beyond knowing their place.

Tressell called them “ragged trousered philanthropists”, toiling their way into early graves for the profits of their bosses in the hardest of hard times – complicit in their own exploitation. The rise of the capitalist system, with its harsh working conditions, left many struggling to survive. The book’s ideas helped to inspire the original plans for the welfare state. Its popularity among soldiers fighting in World War II also led to the belief that its influence was a major factor in Labour’s 1945 landslide election victory.

Tressell called many places home in his lifetime – places that now proudly claim him as their own. The pen name of Robert Noonan, he was born in Dublin in 1870, and moved to England, then later Cape Town, South Africa, some time around 1888.

After the breakdown of his marriage and with custody of his daughter Kathleen, he returned to Sussex after the turn of the century. Tressell fell ill and died in Liverpool, en route to a new life in Canada, in 1911. He was just 40.

He was buried in an unmarked, mass paupers’ grave in Liverpool that remained unidentified until the 1970s – a stark and solitary end to a man who had done so much to highlight, and eventually bring about real change to, the living and working conditions of millions.

He had tried and failed before his death to find a publisher for his handwritten, 1,700 page manuscript of The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists, giving himself the pen name Tressell for fear of reprisals.

However in 1914, Kathleen, serving tea to her employer, Jesse Pope, overheard a literary conversation with a guest. Kathleen spoke up “I have a book upstairs in my trunk”. It was her father’s manuscript. A heavily edited version was published later that year, though it was not until 1955 that it was published in full.

The novel has sold more than 1 million copies around the globe and has been translated into several languages, enjoying regular, noticeable surges in popularity, particularly in times of war and recession.

It has been adapted for the stage many times, first in 1978 by playwright Stephen Lowe and now most recently for this coproduction by Howard Brenton for the Liverpool Everyman and Playhouse and Chichester Festival Theatres.

It remains consistently popular with audiences, whether performed in humble community centres or the most established theatres in the country.

Vicky AndersonJune 2010

Characters

KIRSTY

ALAN

JULIE

FRANK OWEN

WILL EASTON

OLD JOE PHILPOT

JACK SLYME

FRED HARLOW

BUNDY

BERT WHITE

BARRINGTON

BOB CRASS

MR HUNTER

RUTH EASTON

NORA OWEN

MR RUSHTON

MR SWEATER

MR GRINDER

MR DIDLUM

COUNCILLOR WEAKLING

MR NEWMAN

IST SANDWICH-BOARD MAN

2ND SANDWICH-BOARD MAN

MOLLY

Plus various extras

Rushton, Sweater, Grinder, Didlum and Weakling are played by actors in masks.

ACT ONE

The doors, walls, firegrates, windows, floors of a large, rundown two-storey Victorian house in the South Coast town of Mugsborough.

Scene One‘Upwardly Mobile’

KIRSTY, an estate agent. ALAN and JULIE, prospective buyers. JULIE is artistic. ALAN is a businessman, sharp masked by cheerfulness.

A mobile phone rings.

ALAN (answers his mobile). Alan here. (To KIRSTY and JULIE.) Excuse me.

KIRSTY. And this is the dining room.

JULIE. It’s a lovely space.

KIRSTY. The house was built in 1856. There was a major renovation in 1904. Otherwise it’s more or less untouched…

ALAN (overlapping). Yes, I’m ready to make an offer. I’ll get back to you.

KIRSTY.… Entrance porch and lobby, four reception rooms, six bedrooms, one bathroom but the two upstairs bedrooms can be easily converted to en suite, and there’s an old-style kitchen and scullery. Work is needed but there’s great potential. And it’s a walled garden, not overlooked.

ALAN. The scullery back there. How did they live like that?

KIRSTY is about to speak but JULIE jumps in.

JULIE. The brownstone sink is wonderful. Find a way of keeping that. (Looks up.) The ceiling roses, they original?

KIRSTY. They are. Victorian.

JULIE. Rather painted over.

KIRSTY. It’s the patina of age.

ALAN. You mean the layers of crud. (Smiles.)

KIRSTY. They can be restored, there is a specialist firm in Mugsborough…

ALAN. What, run by a cousin of yours?

KIRSTY laughs uneasily.

JULIE (low). Alan. (To KIRSTY.) Of course, we’re really looking for a vicarage.

KIRSTY. Well, the house does have gravitas…

ALAN. ‘Gravitas.’ You mean it’s gloomy. That why it’s called The Cave?

JULIE. There’s lots of space, Alan. The second-biggest reception room could be a studio. (To KIRSTY.) I pot.

KIRSTY. Haven’t the faintest how you do that, lump on a wheel and – (Gesture with fingers and thumbs.) hey presto: jugs, tea sets…

JULIE. I do throw, but I prefer to coil.

KIRSTY. Cool.

JULIE. I believe in arts and crafts.

KIRSTY. Don’t we all.

A moment.

So, Mr and Mrs Flotter, you’re moving down from London…

JULIE. Bromley.

ALAN. I’ve been made South East Area Manager of BargainBest Stores.

KIRSTY. BargainBest are opening in Mugsborough?

ALAN. Oh yeah.

KIRSTY. Great for the town.

ALAN. Very, I’d say.

JULIE wanders away and is looking at a wall.

Look, I’m interested.

KIRSTY. Good…

JULIE. There’s a green wallpaper underneath.

ALAN (ignoring her). But the place is almost derelict and it’s on for four-fifty? That’s just way too much.

KIRSTY. Well of course, as the agent, I have to represent the vendor’s interests…

ALAN. I understand that.

JULIE. I think it’s Edwardian.

ALAN. Kirsty, isn’t it?

KIRSTY. Yeah.

JULIE. Embossed.

JULIE pulls a length of paper away, up the wall.

And there’re some kind of paintings…

ALAN. Look at it like this, Kirsty: BargainBest could single-handedly trigger a bit of a property boom. And when did Mugsborough last see one of them? Three-ninety.

KIRSTY (almost jumps). No no, I’m very sorry, Mr Flotter, the vendor wouldn’t go that low.

JULIE. Did you say renovated in 1904?

KIRSTY. Yes, Mrs Flotter…

JULIE (looking up). Chinese landscapes, Edwardian oriental…

ALAN. Old woman selling, right? Needs cash for her care?

KIRSTY. I really can’t…

ALAN. Just tell me how low you think she’d go.

KIRSTY. It would have to be over four.

ALAN. Four-oh-five. And we’re sold up, no chain.

KIRSTY (taking out a mobile). I’ll make a call. (Going off.) Could I speak to Mrs Sweater, please…

She has gone.

JULIE. I love it, Alan. (She nods.) Look, someone did some beautiful paintings. We could have them restored.

ALAN. Oh well, into the money pit…

JULIE. If you think…

ALAN. No no, it’ll be okay. A new life, Julie.

JULIE. Yes.

ALAN. I’ll go and twist this girl’s arm.

He goes off. JULIE squints at the paintings.

JULIE. Birds by a lake.

FRANK OWEN enters. He carries a brush and a pot of white paint. He is in the working clothes of 1904. JULIE turns and, for a moment, they look at each other.

OWEN (aside). I did those paintings. In nineteen hundred and four.

JULIE. They’re beautiful.

OWEN. Beauty’s not the half of it. Watch.

Scene Two‘A Song’

A work session. FRANK OWEN, WILL EASTON, OLD JOE PHILPOT, JACK SLYME, FRED HARLOW, BUNDY, young BERT WHITE and the silent BARRINGTON are all working hard: scraping, washing down, filling.

BUNDY sings. After a while BERT goes off.

BUNDY (singing).

Now I’m not a wealthy man,But I lives upon a plan,Wot will render me as happy as a king;An’ if you will allow, I’ll sing it to you now,For time you know is always on the wing.

ALL but OWEN (singing).

Work, boys, work and be contented,So long as you’ve enough to buy a meal.For if you will but try, you’ll be wealthy – by and by –If you’ll only put yer shoulder to the wheel.

PHILPOT is in trouble. OWEN sees it and goes to him, careful to check the other workers have not seen.

OWEN. Joe, bear up.

PHILPOT. It’s my knee, it sort o’ gives way.

OWEN. Just go softly, it’s nearly dinner time.

PHILPOT. I can’t go softly, Frank, Bob Crass’ll tell Old Misery I’m not up to it.

OWEN. Crass isn’t here. He’s down below mixing his colours.

PHILPOT. I got to keep on the right side of ’em. They musn’t know ’bout this bloody knee.

OWEN. Let me finish that off.

PHILPOT. No, Frank, I got me pride.

OWEN (turning away). Oh pride, that we have. No sense, but buckets o’ pride.

BUNDY (singing). Now I’m not a wealthy man…

OWEN (interrupting him). Can we ’ave done with your racket?

BUNDY. Don’t yer like a song then, Owen?

OWEN. Not that song.

BUNDY. What’s wrong with it, then?

OWEN. Don’t it bother you, the meanin’ of what you’re singin’?

BUNDY. It just means: ‘I’m singin’.’

OWEN. It’s a Tory, free-tariff song and you know it. And you’re only singin’ it to get up my nose.

BUNDY. Up your red nose you mean?

HARLOW laughs at this.

Enter BERT.

BERT. Dinner’s up.

PHILPOT. Thank Aunt Betty for that.

EASTON. What we havin’?

BERT. Bloaters, bread n’ cheese.

HARLOW. Fresh bread?

SLYME. Half of yesterday’s.

BERT. And tea!

ALL. Tea! Tea! Tea!

BUNDY (singing). Work, boys, work and be contented.

OWEN stiffens.

ALL but OWEN (singing). Work, boys, work and be contented,

So long as you’ve enough to buy a meal.

For if you will but try, you’ll be wealthy – by and by –

If you’ll only put yer shoulder to the wheel.

Scene Three‘Meet the Brigands’

As they sing, OWEN gives five of the actors masks of MR RUSHTON, MR SWEATER, MR GRINDER, MR DIDLUM and COUNCILLOR WEAKLING. Those who do not change help those who do.

PHILPOT (aside). Meanwhile, in another part of town…

BERT (aside). Mugsborough British Empire Club.

PHILPOT (aside). Town Councillors about to scoff their sort of lunch.

The masked actors turn.

SWEATER (aside). Cream soup a’ asparagus, rack o’ lamb wiv a mustard crust, vegetables in season, potatoes dauphin-oozie…

GRINDER (aside). Wines: Chablis Domaine Tremblay Premier Cru 1898, Puligny-Montrachet Grand Cru 1887.

DIDLUM (aside). That French cheese what goes runny all over the place.

RUSHTON (aside). An’ spotted dick ’n’ custard for afters.

SWEATER (aside). Then brandy and cigars. Name’s Sweater. Mayor. Draper. Secret of my success: indenture young women for three years, pay ’em not much; end of three years: sack ’em. It’s a tough old world but it works. And there’s church for all on Sunday. I am a Christian man. (To the others.) Gentlemen, some say the Town Council is a kind of paradise reserved exclusively for jerry-builders and successful tradesman. This is very true. But the fact that we have all made money is proof of our intellectual capacity.

VOICES. ’Ear, ’Ear!

GRINDER (aside). Name’s Grinder. Fruit ’n’ veg shops. Eat an apple in this town, it’ll be mine. (To the others.) What I say is who needs an Haristocracy when you got self-made men.

VOICES. ’Ear, ’Ear!

DIDLUM (aside). Name’s Didlum. House-furnisher. Extensive stock o’ second-’and furniture, of which I resume possession of when the unfortunate purchaser can no longer pay instalments. (To the others.) I hope there’s spotted dick for puddin’.

GRINDER. And gennelmen, welcome to our new Council, victoriously by-elected.

RUSHTON (aside). George Rushton. Owner, Rushton and Co., Painters and Decorators. Cut-throat business in this town but making my way. New to all this. (To the others.) Spotted dick?

DIDLUM. And custard.

GRINDER. Tradition, old man.

DIDLUM. Bit of old England.

SWEATER. Tradition, George. Let’s go in, I’m bloody starving.

VOICES. ’Ear, ’Ear!

COUNCILLOR WEAKLING (aside). Councillor Weakling. Retired doctor. Unfortunately respectable. (To the others.) As elected members of the Town Council, I do think we should consider paying for our own lunch.

They stare at him.

SWEATER. Oh, shut up, Weakling.

DIDLUM. Shut up.

GRINDER. Yes, shut up.

DIDLUM. Expenses.

They move away for lunch.

RUSHTON (to SWEATER). Mr Sweater, your worship, sir, I’m worried about the drains, at your house, The Cave. They’re really going to cost you.

GRINDER. Don’t worry, the Council can help.

RUSHTON. Really? How?

GRINDER (arm round him