Pelle the Conqueror, Vol 3 by Martin Anderson Nexo

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One day at noon Pelle was standing in the midst of a group of men,
making a drawing of a conceited, arrogant foreman with a scrap of chalk
on a large iron plate. The drawing evoked much merriment. Some of his
comrades had in the meantime been disputing as to the elevating
machinery of a submarine. Pelle rapidly erased his caricature and
silently sketched an elevation of the machinery in question. He had so
often seen it when the vessel lay in the harbor at home. The others were
obliged to admit that he was right.

There was a sudden silence as one of the engineers passed through the
workshop. He caught sight of the drawing and asked whose work it was.

Pelle had to go to the office with him. The engineer asked him all sorts
of questions, and was amazed to learn that he had never had lessons in
drawing. "Perhaps we could make use of you upstairs here," he said.
"Would you care for that?"

Pelle's heart gave a sudden leap. This was luck, the real genuine good
fortune that seized upon its man and lifted him straightway into a
region of dazzling radiance! "Yes," he stammered, "yes, thank you very
much!" His emotion was near choking him.

"Then come to-morrow at seven--to the drawing-office," said the
engineer. "No, what's to-day? Saturday. Then Monday morning." And so the
affair was settled, without any beating about the bush! There was a man
after Pelle's own heart!

When he went downstairs the men crowded about him, in order to hear the
result. "Now your fortune's made!" they said; "they'll put you to
machine-drawing now, and if you know your business you'll get
independent work and become a constructor. That's the way Director
Jeppesen got on; he started down here on the moulding-floor, and now
he's a great man!" Their faces were beaming with delight in his good
fortune. He looked at them, and realized that they regarded him as
capable of anything.

He spent the rest of the day as in a dream, and hurried home to share
the news with Ellen. He was quite confused; there was a surging in his
ears, as in childhood, when life suddenly revealed one of its miracles
to him. Ellen flung her arms round his neck in her joy; she would not
let him go again, but held him fast gazing at him wonderingly, as in the
old days. "I've always known you were intended for something!" she said,
looking at him with pride. "There's no one like you! And now, only
think. But the children, they must know too!" And she snatched little
sister from her sleep, and informed her what had happened. The child
began to cry.

"You are frightening her, you are so delighted," said Pelle, who was
himself smiling all over his face.

"But now--now we shall mix with genteel people," said Ellen suddenly, as
she was laying the table. "If only I can adapt myself to it! And the
children shall go to the middle-class school."

When Pelle had eaten he was about to sit down to his cobbling. "No!"
said Ellen decidedly, taking the work away, "that's no work for you any
longer!"

"But it must be finished," said Pelle; "we can't deliver half-finished
work!"

"I'll soon finish it for you; you just put your best clothes on; you
look like a--"

"Like a working-man, eh?" said Pelle, smiling.

Pelle dressed himself and went off to the "Ark" to give Father Lasse the
news. Later he would meet the others at his father-in-law's. Lasse was
at home, and was eating his supper. He had fried himself an egg over the
stove, and there was beer and brandy on the table. He had rented a
little room off the long corridor, near crazy Vinslev's; there was no
window, but there was a pane of glass over the door leading into the
gloomy passage. The lime was falling from the walls, so that the cob was
showing in great patches.

"Well, well," said Lasse, delighted, "so it's come to this! I've often
wondered to myself why you had been given such unprofitable talents--
such as lying about and painting on the walls or on paper--you, a poor
laborer's son. Something must be intended by that, I used to tell
myself, in my own mind; perhaps it's the gift of God and he'll get on by
reason of it! And now it really seems as if it's to find its use."

"It's not comfortable for you here, father!" said Pelle.

"But I shall soon take you away from here, whether you like it or not.
When we've paid off a few of the winter's debts we shall be moving into
a three-roomed apartment, and then you'll have a room for your own use;
but you mustn't go to work any longer then. You must be prepared for
that."

"Yes, yes, I've nothing against living with you, so long as I'm not
taking the bread out of others' mouths. Ah, no, Pelle, it won't be
difficult for me to give up my work; I have overworked myself ever since
I could crawl; for seventy years almost I've toiled for my daily bread--
and now I'm tired! So many thanks for your kind intentions. I shall pass
the time well with the children. Send me word whenever you will."

The news was already known in the "Ark," and the inmates came up to wish
him luck as he was leaving. "You won't he running in here any more and
gossiping with us when once you are settled in your new calling," they
said. "That would never do! But don't quite forget all about us just
because we are poor!"

"No, no, Pelle has been through so many hungry times with us poor folks;
he's not one of those who forget old friendship!" they themselves
replied.

Only now, when he had left the "Ark," did he realize that there was
something to which he was bidding farewell. It was the cordial community
with all his kind, their radiant faith in him, and his own belief in his
mission there; he had known a peculiar joy in the half-embittered
recklessness, the community of feeling, and the struggle. Was he not, so
to speak, the Prince of poverty, to whom they all looked up, and of whom
they all expected that he would lead them into a strange world? And
could he justify himself for leaving them all in the lurch because of
his own good fortune? Perhaps he was really appointed to lead the
movement--perhaps he was the only one who could do so!

This belief had always been faintly glimmering in the back of his mind,
had stood behind his endurance in the conflict, and behind all the
gladness with which he bore privation. Was he in his arrogance to
repudiate the place that had formed him? No, he was not so blatant as
all that! There was plenty beside himself capable of seeing the movement
through--and Fortune had tapped him on the shoulder. "March forward,
Pelle!" an inward voice exhorted him. "What have you to consider? You have
no right to thrust success away from you? Do you want to ruin yourself
without profiting others? You have been a good comrade, but here your ways
divide. God Himself has given you talent; even as a child you used to
practise it; no one will gain by your remaining poor. Choose your own
path!"

Yes, Pelle had chosen readily enough! He knew very well that he must
accept this good fortune, whatever the world might say to it. Only it
hurt him to leave the others behind! He was bound to poverty by such
intimate ties; he felt the solidarity of the poor so keenly that it hurt
him to tear himself away. Common cares had made him a man, and the
struggle had given him a peculiar and effective strength. But now he
would attend no more meetings! It would be droll indeed if he were to
have nothing more to do with the Cause, but were to belong to the other
side--he, Pelle, who had been a flaming torch! No, he would never leave
them in the lurch, that he knew; even if he were to climb ever so high--
and he entertained no doubts as to that--he would always feel for his
old comrades and show them the way to obtain good relations between
worker and employer.

Ellen saw how serious he was--perhaps she guessed that he was feeling
remorseful. She would help him to get over that.

"Can't we have your father here to-morrow?" she said. "He can lie on the
long chair in the living-room until we move into our new home. It isn't
right to let him stay where he is, and in your new situation you
couldn't do it."

XXVII

The unrest increased in the workshops round about; no one who had
anything to do with the organization felt really secure. It was
evidently the intention of the employers to drive the workers to
extremes, and thereby to force them to break the peace. "They want to
destroy the trades unions, so that they can scrape the butter off our
bread again," said the workers. "They think it'll be easier now that the
winter has made us thankful for a dry crust! But that's an infernal
lie!"

The masses grew more and more embittered; everywhere they were ready for
a fight, and asked nothing better than to plunge into it. The women wept
and shuddered; most of them understood only that the sufferings of the
winter were going to begin all over again. They took desperate steps to
prevent this; they threw their shawls over their heads and rushed off to
the offices, to the manufacturers, and pleaded with them to avert the
disaster. The central Committee counselled a peaceful demeanor and
caution. Everything depended upon their having the right on their side
in the opinion of the public.

It was easy for Pelle to follow all that was happening, although he now
stood outside the whole movement. He went to work in his good clothes
and elastic-sided boots, and did not need to arrive before seven, while
the others had to be there at six--which at once altered his point of
view.

He would soon be trusted with rule and compasses; for the present he was
kept busy copying a few worn-out working-drawings, or "filling in." He
felt in a curiously exalted frame of mind--as though he had been
slightly intoxicated; this was the first time in his life that he had
been employed on work that was of a clean nature and allowed him to wear
good clothes. It was particularly curious to survey life from where he
stood; a new perspective lay open before him. The old life had nothing
in prospect but a miserable old age; but this led upward. Here he could
achieve what he willed--even the highest place! What if he finally crept
up to the very topmost point, and established an eight-hour day and a
decent day's wage? Then he would show them that one could perfectly well
climb up from below without forgetting his origin and becoming a
bloodsucker! They should still drink to the health of Pelle, their good
comrade, although he would have left their ranks.

At home there was much to be done; as soon as he crossed the threshold
he was the prisoner of Ellen's hundred and one schemes. He must have a
new suit of clothes--a gray suit for the office, and more linen; and at
least twice a week he must go to the barber; he could no longer sit down
and scrape himself with an old razor with an edge like a saw. Pelle was
made to feel that it was not so easy after all to become an "upper-
classer," as he called it.

And all this cost money. There was the same searching, the same racking
of one's brains to find the necessary shillings as during the dearth of
the winter famine; but this time it was quite amusing; there was a
cheerful purpose in it all, and it would only last until he had properly
settled down. Lasse looked very respectable; he was wearing Pelle's
second-best suit, which Ellen had cleaned for him, and a black watered
silk cravat, with a white waterproof collar, and well-polished slippers
on his feet. These last were his old watertight boots--those in which
Pelle had left Stone Farm. They were still in existence, but had been
cut down to form house-slippers. The legs of them now formed part of a
pair of clogs.

Lasse was happiest with the children, and he looked quite an aged
grandfather now, with his wrinkled face and his kind glance, which was
now a little weak-sighted. When Young Lasse hid himself in the opposite
corner of the room Father Lasse could not see him, and the young rascal
took advantage of the fact; he could never understand those eyes, which
could not see farther than across the table, and was always asking
questions about them.

"It's because I have seen too much misery in my life," the old man would
always reply.

Otherwise he was quite overflowing with happiness, and his old worn-out
body manifested its gratitude, for he began to put on flesh again; and
his cheeks had soon grown quite full. He had a peculiar knack for
looking after the children; Pelle and Ellen could feel quite easy as
they went about their multitudinous affairs. There were a hundred things
that had to be seen to before they could move into the new home. They
thought of raising a loan of a few hundred kroner. "Father will go
security for us," said Ellen.

"Yes, then I should have the means of taking proper drawing-lessons,"
said Pelle; "I particularly need to get thoroughly grounded."

* * * * *

On Saturday the term of the old tariff expired. The temper of the
workers was badly strained, but each completed his work, and contained
himself and waited. At noon the foreman went round asking each man for
his answer. They refused all information, as agreed, but in the
afternoon three men formed a deputation and entered the office, asking
if they could speak with the manager. As he entered Munck, the engine-
driver, stepped forward as spokesman, and began: "We have come in the
name of our comrades." He could get no further; the manager let fly at
him, pointing to the stairs, and crying, "I don't argue with my work-
people!"

So they went down again. The men stared up at them--this was quick work!
The burly Munck moved his lips, as though he were speaking, but no one
could hear a word on account of the frightful din of the machinery. With
a firm stride he went through the shop, picked up a hammer, and struck
three blows on the great steel gong. They sounded like the stroke of
doom, booming through the whole factory. At the same moment the man's
naked, blackened arms were lifted to strike the belts from the live
pulleys. The machinery ceased running, and the roar of it died away; it
was as still as though Death had passed through the workshop. The dense
network of belts that crossed the shop in all directions quivered and
hung slack; the silence yawned horribly in the great room.

The foremen ran from bench to bench, shouting and hardly knowing what to
do. Word was sent to the office, while the workers went to their buckets
and washed themselves, silent and melancholy as a funeral procession.
Their faces were uncommunicative. Did they perhaps foresee that those
three blows were the signal for a terrible conflict? Or were they merely
following their first angry impulse? They knew enough, at all events; it
was stamped upon their faces that this was fate--the inevitable. They
had summoned the winter because they were driven to it, and the winter
would return once more to ravage his victims.

They reappeared, washed and clean, each with his bundle under his arm,
and stood in silence waiting their turn to be paid. The foreman ran to
and fro apportioning the wages with nervous hands, comparing time-sheets
and reckoning the sum due to each. The manager came down the stairs of
his office, proud and unapproachable, and walked through the shop; the
workers made way for him. He looked sharply around him, as though he
would imprint the likeness of every individual worker on his mind, laid
his hand on the shoulder of one of the foremen, and said in a loud
voice, so that all heard him, "Make haste, now, Jacobsen, so that we can
be rid of these fellows quickly!" The workers slowly turned their
serious faces toward him, and here and there a fist was clenched. They
left the factory one by one, as soon as they were paid.

Outside they gathered in little groups, and relieved their feelings by
giving vent to significant exclamations. "Did you see the old man? He
was savage, he was; he'll hold out quite a while before we get back
again!"

Pelle was in a curious frame of mind; he knew that now the fight had
begun; first blood had been drawn, and one blow would follow on another.
Young Lasse, who heard his step on the stairs, ran into his arms as he
reached home; but Pelle did not notice him.

"You are so solemn!" said Ellen, "has anything happened?" He told her
quietly.

"Good God!" she cried, shuddering. "Now the unemployment will begin all
over again! Thank God it doesn't affect us!" Pelle did not reply. He sat
down in silence to his supper; sat hanging his head as though ashamed of
himself.

XXVIII

A most agitating time followed. For a number of years the conflict had,
so to speak, been preparing itself, and the workers had made ready for
it, had longed for it, had sought to precipitate it, in order to
determine once for all whether they were destined always to be slaves
and to stand still, or whether there was a future for them. Now the
conflict had come--and had taken them all by surprise; they would
willingly have concluded peace just now.

But there was no prospect of a peaceful solution of any kind. The
employers found the occasion favorable for setting their house in order;
the matter was to be fought out now! This was as good as telling the men
to go. Every morning there was news of a fresh lot of workers turned
into the streets, or leaving of their own accord.

One trade involved another. The iron-masters made common cause with the
"Denmark" factory, and declared a lock-out of the machine-smiths; then
the moulders and pattern-makers walked out, and other branches of the
industry joined the strike; they all stood by one another.

Pelle could survey them all from his point of vantage. Old memories of
battle rose to his mind; his blood grew warm, and he caught himself, up
in the drawing-office, making plans of campaign for this trade or that.
His was the quick-fighting blood that assumes the offensive, and he
noted their blunders; they were not acting with sufficient energy. They
were still exhausted, and found it hard to reconcile themselves to
another period of unemployment. They made no counter-attack that could
do any damage. The employers, who were acting energetically under the
leadership of the iron industry, enjoyed from the beginning a
considerable ascendancy. The "Denmark" factory was kept running, but the
trade was on its last legs.

It was kept alive by the help of a few strike-breakers, and every one of
the officials of the company who had the requisite knowledge was set to
work downstairs; even the manager of the machine department had donned a
blouse and was working a lathe. It was a matter of sapping the courage
of the strikers, while proving to them that it was possible to do
without them.

In the drawing-office and the counting-house all was confusion; the
strike-breakers had all to be obtained from abroad; while others ran
away and had to be replaced. Under these circumstances Pelle had to look
after himself and assimilate what he could. This did not suit him; it
was a long way to the top, and one couldn't learn quickly enough.

One day he received the summons to come downstairs and lend a hand in
the centrifugal separator department. The workers had made common cause
with the machine-smiths. This summons aroused him from delightful dreams
of the future. He was swiftly awakened. "I am no strike-breaker!" he
replied, offended.

Then the engineer himself came up. "Do you realize that you are refusing
to perform your duty?" he said.

"I can't take work away from my comrades," replied Pelle, in a low
voice.

"They may think that very nice of you. But now those men down there are
no longer your comrades. You are a salaried employee, and as such you
must serve the firm wherever you are asked to do so."

"But I can't do that! I can't strike the bread out of other folks'
hands."

"Then your whole future is at stake. Think a moment, man! I am sorry for
you, for you might have done something here; but I can't save you from
the results of your own obstinacy. We require absolute obedience here."

The engineer stood waiting for his answer, but Pelle had nothing to say.

"Now, I'll go so far as to give you till to-morrow to think over it--
although that's against the rules of the factory. Now think it over
well, and don't hang on to this stupid sentimentality of yours. The
first thing is to stand by those you belong to, through thick and thin.
Well, till to-morrow."

Pelle went. He did not want to go home before the usual time, only to be
met with a string of unseasonable questions. They would come soon enough
in any case. So he strolled through the mercantile quarter and gazed at
the shipping. Well, now his dream of success was shattered--and it had
been a short one. He could see Ellen's look of disappointment, and an
utter mental depression came over him. He was chiefly sorry for her; as
for him, there was nothing to be said--it was fate! It never occurred to
him for a moment to choose between his comrades and the future; he had
quite forgotten that the engineer had given him time for reflection.

At the usual time he strolled homeward. Ellen welcomed him cheerfully
and light-heartedly; she was living in a continual thrill of delight;
and it was quite touching to see what trouble she was taking to fit
herself for a different stratum of society. Her movements were
delightful to watch, and her mouth had assumed an expression which was
intended to betoken refinement. It suited her delightfully, and Pelle
was always seized by a desire to kiss her lips and so disarrange the
expression; but to-day he sat down to his supper in silence. Ellen was
accustomed to put aside his share of the midday dinner, and to warm it
up for him when he came home in the evening; at midday he ate bread-and-
butter in the office.

"When we have once got properly settled we'll all have dinner at six
o'clock; that is much more comfortable."

"That's what the fine folks do, I've been told," said Lasse. "That will
be pleasant, to give it a try."

Lasse was sitting with Young Lasse on his knee, telling him funny
stories. Little Lasse laughed, and every time he laughed his sister
screeched with delight in her cradle, as though she understood it all.
"What is it to be now, then--the story of the old wife? Then you must
listen carefully, or your ears won't grow! Well, then, the old wife."

"Wife!" said Young Lasse, with the very accent of the old man.

"Yes, the old wife!" repeated Lasse, and then all three laughed.

"'What shall I do first?' said the old wife, when she went to work; 'eat
or sleep? I think I'll eat first. What shall I do first?' asked the old
wife, when she had eaten; 'shall I sleep first or work? I think I'll
sleep first.' And then she slept, until it was evening, and then she
went home and went to bed."

Ellen went up to Pelle and laid her hand on his shoulder.

"I've been to see my former mistress, and she is going to help me to
turn my wedding-dress into a visiting-dress," she said. "Then we shall
only need to buy a frock-coat for you."

Pelle looked up slowly. A quiver passed over his features. Poor thing!
She was thinking about visiting-dresses! "You can save yourself the
trouble," he said, in a low voice. "I've finished with the office. They
asked me to turn strike-breaker, so I left."

"Ach, ach!" said Lasse, and he was near letting the child fall, his
withered hands were trembling so. Ellen gazed at Pelle as though turned
to stone. She grew paler and paler, but not a sound came from her lips.
She looked as though she would fall dead at his feet.

XXIX

Pelle was once more among his own people; he did not regret that fortune
had withdrawn her promise; at heart he was glad. After all, this was
where he belonged. He had played a great part in the great revolt--was
he to be excluded from the battle?

The leaders welcomed him. No one could draw the people as he could, when
it came to that; the sight of him inspired them with a cheerful faith,
and gave them endurance, and a fearless pugnacity. And he was so
skilled, too, in making plans!

The first thing every morning he made his way to the lock-out office,
whence the whole campaign was directed; here all the many threads ran
together. The situation for the moment was considered, men who had
precise knowledge of the enemy's weak points were called together, in
order to give information, and a comprehensive plan of campaign was
devised. At secret meetings, to which trustworthy members of the various
trades were invited, all sorts of material for offence was collected--
for the attack upon the employers, and for carrying on the newspaper
agitation. It was a question of striking at the blood-suckers, and those
who were loose in the saddle! There were trades which the employers kept
going for local reasons--these must be hunted out and brought to a
standstill, even at the cost of increasing unemployment. They were
making energetic preparations for war, and it was not the time to be
squeamish about their weapons. Pelle was in his element. This was
something better than ruining a single shoemaker, even if he was the
biggest in the city! He was rich in ideas, and never wavered in carrying
them into execution. Warfare was warfare!

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