Pelle the Conqueror by Martin Andersen Nexø (great novels to read .TXT) 📕

Thus even the great union he had helped to effect pointed in the right direction. It had been the opposite of one against all⁠—it had built upon the law of reciprocity.

And the poor man was not a miserable wretch, condemned by the development to be ruined, a visionary, who, as a consequence of an empty stomach, dreamed of a Utopia. Pelle had passed his childhood in the country and gone about with the rest of creation in all kinds of weather. He had seen the small singing-birds throw themselves in whole clouds at the hawk when it had seized one of their number, and pursue it until it dropped its prey in confusion. When he caught an ant in a split straw, the other ants flocked to the straw and gnawed their comrade out: they could not be frightened away. If he touched them, they squirted their poison against his hand and went on working. Their courage amused him, the sprinklings of poison were so tiny that he could not see them; but if he quickly raised his hand to his nose, he detected a sharp acid smell. Why did they not leave their comrade in his dilemma, when there were so many of them and they were so busy? They did not even stop to have a meal until they had liberated him.

The poor man must stick to the union idea; he had got hold of the right thing this time! And now all at once Pelle knew which way they ought to go. If they were outside the existing conditions and their laws, why not arrange their own world upon the laws that were theirs? Through the organizations they had been educated in self-government; it was about time that they took charge of their own existence.

The young revolutionaries kept clear of the power of money by going without things, but that was not the way. Capital always preached contentment to the poor; he would go the other way, and conquer production by a great flanking movement.

He was not afraid now of using the librarian’s money. All doubt had been chased away. He was perfectly clear and saw in broad outlines a worldwide, peaceful revolution which was to subvert all existing values. Pelle knew that poverty is not confined to any country. He had once before brought forward an invincible idea. His system of profit-sharing must be the starting-point for a world-fight between Labor and Capital!

X

Two days later Pelle and the librarian went to Frederiksberg Street to look at a business that was to be disposed of. It was a small matter of half a score of workmen, with an electrical workshop in the basement and a shop above. The whole could be had by taking over the stock and machinery at a valuation. The rent was rather high, but with that exception the conditions were favorable.

“I think we’ll arrange that the purchase and working capital shall bear interest and be sunk like a four percent credit-association loan,” said Brun.

“It’s cheap money,” answered Pelle. “A good result won’t say much about the circumstances when we haven’t got the same conditions as other businesses.”

“Not so very cheap. At that price you can get as many as you want on good security; and I suppose the workman ought to be regarded as the best security in an undertaking that’s built upon labor,” said the old man, smiling. “There’ll be a big fall in discount when you come into power, Pelle! But the bare capital costs no more now either, when there are no parasites at it; and it’s just parasites that we’re going to fight.”

Pelle had no objection to the cheap money; there were still plenty of difficulties to overcome. If they got on, it would not be long before private speculation declared war on him.

They agreed that they would have nothing to do with agents and branches; the business was to rest entirely upon itself and communicate directly with the consumers. What was made in the workshop should merely cover the expenses of the shop above, the rest of the surplus being divided among the workmen.

“According to what rules?” asked Brun, with a searching glance at Pelle.

“Equal!” he answered without hesitation. “We won’t have anything to do with agreements. We made a great mistake, when we began the Movement, in giving in to the agreement system instead of doing away with it altogether. It has increased the inequality. Everyone that works has a right to live.”

“Do you think the capable workman will submit to sharing equally with those that are less capable?” asked Brun doubtfully.

“He must learn to!” said Pelle firmly. “How could he otherwise maintain that all work is of equal value?”

“Is that your own opinion?”

“Most decidedly. I see no reason, for instance, for making any difference between a doctor and a sewer-cleaner. It’s impossible to say which of them is of the greater use in matters of health; the point is that each shall do what he can.”

“Capital!” exclaimed Brun. “Capital!” The old philosopher was in the best of spirits. Pelle had considered him awkward and unpractical, and was astonished to find that his views on many points were so practical.

“It’s because this is something new,” said the old man, rubbing his hands. “I’d done with the old before I came into the world; there was nothing that stimulated me; I was said to be degenerated. Yes, indeed! All the same, the old bookworm’s going to show his ancestors that there’s vigorous blood flowing in his veins too. We two have found the place from which the world can be rocked, my dear Pelle; I think we’ve found it! And now we’ll set to work.”

There was enough to do indeed, but they were realities now, and Pelle had a pleasant feeling of once more having his feet upon the ground. This was something different from riding alone through space upon his own thought, always in danger of falling down; here he opened up his