Chapter 17

He cheered up when he saw Pelle, made an involuntary movement with his right hand, and then, remembering, held out his left. “There—I must give you my left fist now,” he said, with a dismal smile. “That’ll seem queer to me for a bit. If I can do anything at all. Otherwise”—he made a threatening movement of the head—“I tell you this—I’ll never be a burden to Marie and Karl all my life. Take my word for it, I shall be able to work again.”

“We shall soon find something for you,” said Pelle, “and there are kind people, too. Perhaps some one will help you so that you can study.” He himself did not know just where that idea came from; he certainly had never seen such a case. The magical dreams of his childhood had been responsible for a whole class of ideas, which were nourished by the anecdotes of poor boys in the reading-books. He was confronted by the impossible, and quite simply he reached out after the impossible.

Peter had no reading-books at his back. “Kind people!” he cried scornfully—“they never have anything themselves, and I can’t even read —how should I learn how to study? Karl can read; he taught himself from the signs in the streets while he was running his errands; and he can write as well. And Hanne has taught Marie a little. But all my life I’ve only been in the factory.” He stared bitterly into space; it was melancholy to see how changed his face was—it had quite fallen in.

“Don’t worry now,” said Pelle confidently: “we shall soon find something.”

“Only spare me the poor-relief! Don’t you go begging for me—that’s all!” said Peter angrily. “And, Pelle,” he whispered, so that no one in the room should hear, “it really isn’t nice here. Last night an old man lay there and died—close to me. He died of cancer, and they didn’t even put a screen round him. All the time he lay there and stared at me! But in a few days I shall be able to go out. Then there’ll be something to be paid—otherwise the business will come before the Poor Law guardians, and then they’ll begin to snuff around—and I’ve told them fibs, Pelle! Can’t you come and get me out? Marie has money for the house-rent by her—you can take that.”

Pelle promised, and hurried back to his work. Ellen was at home; she was moving about and seemed astonished. Pelle confided the whole affair to her. “Such a splendid fellow he is,” he said, almost crying. “A little too solemn with all his work—and now he’s a cripple! Only a child, and an invalided worker already—it’s horrible to think of!”

Ellen went up to him and pulled his head against her shoulder; soothingly she stroked his hair. “We must do something for him, Ellen,” he said dully.

“You are so good, Pelle. You’d like to help everybody; but what can we do? We’ve paid away all our savings over my lying-in.”

“We must sell or pawn some of our things.”

She looked at him horrified. “Pelle, our dear home! And there’s nothing here but just what is absolutely necessary. And you who love our poor little belongings so! But if you mean that, why, of course! Only you are doing something for him already in sacrificing your time.”

After that he was silent. She several times referred to the matter again, as something that must be well deliberated, but he did not reply. Her conversation hurt him—whether he replied to it or was silent.

In the afternoon he invented an errand in the city, and made his way to the factory. He made for the counting-house, and succeeded in seeing the manufacturer himself. The latter was quite upset by the occurrence, but pleaded in vindication that the accident was entirely the result of negligence. He advised Pelle to make a collection among the workers in the factory, and he opened it himself with a contribution of twenty kroner. He also held out the prospect that Peter, who was a reliable lad, might take a place as messenger and collector when he was well again.

Peter was much liked by his comrades; a nice little sum was collected. Pelle paid his hospital dues, and there was so much left that he would be able to stay at home and rest with an easy mind until his hand was healed and he could take the place of messenger at the factory. The young invalid was in high spirits, knowing that his living was assured; he passed the time in lounging about the town, wherever there was music to be heard, in order to learn fresh tunes. “This is the first holiday I’ve had since I went to the factory,” he told Pelle.

He did not get the place as messenger—some one stole a march on him; but he received permission to go back to his old work! With the remains of his right hand he could hold the sheet of tin-plate on the table, while the left hand had to accustom itself to moving among the threatening knives. This only demanded time and a little extra watchfulness.

This accident was branded on Pelle’s soul, and it aroused his slumbering resentment. Chance had given him the three orphans in the place of brothers and sisters, and he felt Peter’s fate as keenly as if it had been his own. It was a scandal that young children should be forced to earn their living by work that endangered their lives, in order to keep the detested Poor Law guardians at bay. What sort of a social order was this? He felt a suffocating desire to strike out, to attack it.

The burden of Due’s fate, aggravated by this fresh misfortune, was once more visible in his face; Ellen’s gentle hand, could not smooth it away. “Don’t look so angry, now—you frighten the child so!” she would say, reaching him the boy. And Pelle would try to smile; but it was only a grim sort of smile.

He did not feel that it was necessary to allow Ellen to look into his bleeding soul; he conversed with her about indifferent things. At other times he sat gazing into the distance, peering watchfully at every sign; he was once more full of the feeling that he was appointed to some particular purpose. He was certain that tidings of some kind were on the way to him.

And then Shoemaker Petersen died, and he was again asked to take over the management of the Union.

“What do you say to that?” he asked Ellen, although his mind was irrevocably made up.

“You must know that yourself,” she replied reservedly. “But if it gives you pleasure, why, of course!”

“I am not doing it to please myself,” said Pelle gloomily. “I am not a woman!”

He regretted his words, and went over to Ellen and kissed her. She had tears in her eyes, and looked at him in astonishment.

XIX

There was plenty to be done. The renegades must be shepherded back to the organization—shepherded or driven; Pelle took the most willing first, allowing numbers to impress the rest. Those who were quite stubborn he left to their own devices for the time being; when they were isolated and marked men into the bargain, they could do no further mischief.

He felt well rested, and went very methodically to work. The feeling that his strength would hold out to the very end lent him a quiet courage that inspired confidence. He was not over-hasty, but saw to everything from the foundations upward; individual questions he postponed until the conditions for solving them should be at hand. He knew from previous experience that nothing could be accomplished unless the ranks were tightly knit together.

So passed the remainder of the summer. And then the organization was complete; it looked as though it could stand a tussle. And the first question was the tariff. This was bad and antiquated; thoroughly behind the times in all respects; the trade was groaning under a low rate of wages, which had not kept step with the general development and the augmentation of prices. But Pelle allowed his practical common sense to prevail. The moment was not favorable for a demand for higher wages. The organization could not lend the demand sufficient support; they must for the time being content themselves with causing the current tariff to be respected. Many of the large employers did not observe it, although they themselves had introduced it. Meyer was a particularly hard case; he made use of every possible shift and evasion to beat down the clearest wages bill.

Complaints were continually coming in, and one day Pelle went to him in order to discuss the situation and come to some agreement. He was prepared to fight for the inviolability of the tariff, otherwise Meyer would make big promises and afterward break them. He had really expected Meyer to show him the door; however, he did not do so, but treated him with a sort of polite effrontery. Hatred of his old enemy awaked in Pelle anew, and it was all he could do to control himself. “The embargo will be declared against you if you don’t come to an arrangement with your workers within a week,” he said threateningly.

Meyer laughed contemptuously. “What’s that you say? Oh, yes, your embargo, we know something about that! But then the employers will declare a lock-out for the whole trade—what do you think of that? Old hats will be selling cheap!”

Pelle was silent, and withdrew; it was the only way in which he could succeed in keeping cool. He had said what had to be said, and he was no diplomat, to smile quietly with a devil lurking in the corners of his eyes.

Meyer obligingly accompanied him to the door. “Can I oblige you in any other way—with work, for example? I could very well find room for a worker who will make children’s boots and shoes.”

When Pelle reached the street he drew a long breath. Poof! That was tough work; a little more insolence and he’d have given him one on the jaw! That would have been the natural answer to the fellow’s effrontery! Well, it was a fine test for his hot temper, and he had stood it all right! He could always be master of the situation if he held his tongue.

“Now suppose we do put an embargo on Meyer,” he thought, as he went down the street. “What then? Why, then he’ll hit back and declare a lock-out. Could we hold out? Not very long, but the employers don’t know that—and then their businesses would be ruined. But then they would introduce workers from abroad—or, if that didn’t answer, they would get the work done elsewhere; or they would import whole cargoes of machinery, as they have already begun to do on a small scale.”

Pelle stood still in the middle of the street. Damn it all, this wouldn’t do! He must take care that he didn’t make a hash of the whole affair. If these foreign workers and machines were introduced, a whole host of men would in a moment be deprived of their living. But he wanted to have a go at Meyer; there must be some means of giving the bloodsucker a blow that he would feel in his purse!

Next morning he went as usual to Beck’s. Beck looked at him from over his spectacles. “I’ve nothing more to do with you, Pelle,” he said, in a low voice.

“What!” cried Pelle, startled. “But we’ve such a lot of work on hand, master!”

“Yes, but I can’t employ you any longer. I’m not doing this of my own free will; I have always been very well pleased with you; but that’s how it stands. There are so many things one has to take into consideration; a shoemaker can do nothing without leather, and one can’t very well do without credit with the leather merchants.”

He would not say anything further.

But Pelle had sufficiently grasped the situation. He was the president of the Shoemakers’ Union; Master Beck had been compelled to dismiss him, by the threat of stopping his source of supplies. Pelle was a marked man because he was at the head of the organization—although the latter was now recognized. This was an offence against the right of combination. Still there was nothing to be done about the matter; one had the right to dismiss a man if one had no further need of him. Meyer was a cunning fellow!

For a time Pelle drifted about dejectedly. He was by no means inclined to go home to Ellen with this melancholy news; so he went to see various employers in order to ask them for work. But as soon as they heard who he was they found they had nothing for him to do. He saw that a black mark had been set against his name.

So he must confine himself to home work, and must try to hunt up more acquaintances of his acquaintances. And he must be ready day and night lest some small shoemaker who muddled along without assistance should suddenly have more to do than he could manage.

Ellen took things as they came, and did not complain. But she was mutely hostile to the cause of their troubles. Pelle received no help from her in his campaign; whatever he engaged in, he had to fight it out alone. This did not alter his plans, but it engendered a greater obstinacy in him. There was one side of his nature that Ellen’s character was unable to reach; well, she was only a woman, after all. One must be indulgent with her! He was kind to her, and in his thoughts he more and more set her on a level with little Lasse. In that way he avoided considering her opinion concerning serious matters—and thereby felt more of a man.

Thanks to his small salary as president of his Union, they suffered no actual privation. Pelle did not like the idea of accepting this salary; he felt greatly inclined to refuse the few hundred kroner. There was not a drop of bureaucratic blood in his veins, and he did not feel that a man should receive payment for that which he accomplished for the general good. But now this money came in very conveniently; and he had other things to do than to make mountains out of molehills. He had given up the embargo; but he was always racking his brains for some way of getting at Meyer; it occupied him day and night.

One day his thoughts blundered upon Meyer’s own tactics. Although he was quite innocent, they had driven him away from his work. How would it be if he were to employ the same method and, quite secretly, take Meyer’s workmen away from him? Meyer was the evil spirit of the shoemaker’s craft. He sat there like a tyrant, thanks to his omnipotence, and oppressed the whole body of workers. It would not be so impossible to set a black mark against his name! And Pelle did not mean to be too particular as to the means.

He talked the matter over with his father-in-law, whose confidence in him was now restored. Stolpe, who was an old experienced tactician, advised him not to convoke any meeting on this occasion, but to settle the matter with each man face to face, so that the Union could not be attacked. “You’ve got plenty of time,” he said. “Go first of all to the trustworthy fellows, and make them understand what sort of a man Karl Meyer is; take his best people away first of all; it won’t do him much good to keep the bad ones. You can put the fear of God into your mates when you want to! Do your business so well that no one will have the courage any longer to take the place of those that leave him. He must be branded as what he is—but between man and man.”

Pelle did not spare himself; he went from one comrade to another, fiery and energetic. And what had proved impossible three years before he was now able to accomplish; the resentment of Meyer’s injustice had sunk into the minds of all.

Meyer had been in the habit of letting his workers run about to no purpose; if the work was not quite ready for them they could call again. And when the work was given out to them they had, as a rule, to finish it with a rush; there was intention in this; it made the people humble and submissive.

But now the boot was on the other leg. The workers did not call; they did not deliver urgent commissions at the appointed time; Meyer had to send to them, and got his own words as answer; they were not quite ready yet, but they would see what they could do for him! He had to run after his own workers in order not to offend his rich customers. In the first instances he settled the matter, as a rule, by dismissal. But that did not help him at all; the devil of arrogance had entered into the simple journeymen! It looked as though they had got their ideas of master and subordinate reversed! He had to give up trusting to the hard hand on the rein; he must seek them out with fair words! His business had the whole fashionable world as customer, and always required a staff of the very best workers. But not even friendly approaches availed. Scarcely did he find a good journeyman-worker but he was off again, and if he asked the reason he always received the same jeering answer: they didn’t feel inclined to work. He offered high wages, and at great expense engaged qualified men from outside; but Pelle was at once informed and immediately sought them out. When they had been subjected to his influence only for a few days they went back to the place they came from, or found other masters, who, now that Meyer’s business was failing, were getting more orders. People who went to the warehouse said that Meyer was raging about upstairs, abusing innocent people and driving them away from him.

Meyer was conscious of a hand behind all this, and he demanded that the Employers’ Union should declare a lock-out. But the other masters scented a move for his benefit in this.

His own business was moribund, so he wanted to bring theirs to a standstill also. They had no fundamental objection to the new state of affairs; in any case they could see no real occasion for a lock-out.

So he was forced to give in, and wrote to Pelle requesting him to enter into negotiations—in order to put an end to the unrest affecting the craft. Pelle, who as yet possessed no skill in negotiations, answered Meyer in a very casual manner, practically sending him about his business. He showed his reply to his father-in-law before dispatching it.

“No, deuce take it, that won’t do!” said Stolpe. “Look you, my lad, everything depends on the tone you take, if you are dealing with labor politics! These big folks think such a damn lot about the way a thing is wrapped up! If I were setting about this business I’d come out with the truth and chuck it in their faces—but that won’t answer; they’d be so wild there’d be no dealing with them. Just a nice little lie—that answers much better! Yes, yes, one has to be a diplomatist and set a fox to catch a fox. Now you write what I tell you! I’ll give you an example. Now—”

Stolpe paced up and down the room a while, with a thoughtful expression; he was in shirt-sleeves and slippers and had thrust both his forefingers in his waistcoat pockets. “Are you ready, son-in-law? Then we’ll begin!”

“To the President of the Employers’ Union, Herre H. Meyer, Shoemaker to the Court. “Being in receipt of your honored favor of yesterday’s date hereby acknowledged, I take the liberty of remarking that so far as is known to me complete quiet and the most orderly conditions prevail throughout the trade. There appears therefore to be no motive for negotiation.

“For the Shoemakers’ Union, “Your obedient servant, “PELLE.”

“There, that’s to the point, eh? Napoleon himself might have put his name to that! And there’s enough sting to it, too!” said Stolpe, much gratified. “Now write that out nicely, and then get a big envelope.”

Pelle felt quite important when he had written this out on a big sheet of paper; it was like an order of the day issued by a sheriff or burgomaster at home. Only in respect of its maliciousness he entertained a certain doubt.

One morning, a few days later, he was sitting at home working. In the meantime he had been obliged to undertake casual jobs for sailors in the harbor, and now he was soling a pair of sea-boots for a seaman on board a collier. On the other side of the bench sat little Lasse, chattering and aping his movements, and every time Pelle drove a peg home the youngster knocked his rattle against the edge of the table, and Pelle smiled at him. Ellen was running in and out between the living-room and the kitchen. She was serious and silent.

There was a knock at the door. She ran to the stove, snatching away some of the child’s linen which was drying there, ran out, and opened the door.

A dark, corpulent gentleman in a fur overcoat entered, bowing, holding his tall hat before him, together with his gloves and stick. Pelle could not believe his eyes—it was the Court shoemaker! “He’s come to have it out!” thought Pelle, and prepared himself for a tussle. His heart began to thump, there was a sudden sinking inside him; his old submissiveness was on the point of coming to the surface and mastering him. But that was only for a moment; then he was himself again. Quietly he offered his guest a chair.

Meyer sat down, looking about the neat, simple room as though he wanted to compare his enemy’s means with his own before he made a move. Pelle gathered something from his wandering glance, and suddenly found himself considerably richer in his knowledge of human nature. “He’s sitting there staring about him to see if something has gone to the pawnshop,” he thought indignantly.

“H’m! I have received your favor of the other day,” began Meyer. “You are of opinion that there is no occasion for a discussion of the situation; but—however—ah—I think—”

“That is certainly my opinion,” answered Pelle, who had resolved to adhere to the tone of the letter. “The most perfect order prevails everywhere. But generally speaking it would seem that matters ought to go smoothly now, when we each have our Union and can discuss affairs impartially.” He gazed innocently at Meyer.

“Ah, you think so too! It cannot be unknown to you that my workers have left me one after another—not to say that they were taken away from me. Even to please you I can’t call those orderly conditions.”

Pelle sat there getting angrier and angrier at his finicking tone. Why the devil couldn’t he bluster like a proper man instead of sitting there and making his damned allusions? But if he wanted that sort of foolery he should have it! “Ah! your people are leaving you?” he said, in an interested manner.

“They are,” said Meyer, and he looked surprised. Pelle’s tone made him feel uncertain. “And they are playing tricks on me; they don’t keep to their engagements, and they keep my messengers running about to no purpose. Formerly every man came to get his work and to deliver it, but now I have to keep messengers for that; the business can’t stand it.”

“The journeymen have had to run about to no purpose—I myself have worked for you,” replied Pelle. “But you are perhaps of opinion that we can better bear the loss of time?”

Meyer shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a condition of your livelihood— its conditions are naturally based on order. But if only I could at least depend on getting hands! Man, this can’t go on!” he cried suddenly, “damn and blast it all, it can’t go on, it’s not honorable!”

Little Lasse gave a jump and began to bellow. Ellen came hurrying in and took him into the bedroom.

Pelle’s mouth was hard. “If your people are leaving you, they must surely have some reason for it,” he replied; he would far rather have told Meyer to his face that he was a sweater! “The Union can’t compel its members to work for an employer with whom perhaps they can’t agree. I myself even have been dismissed from a workshop—but we can’t bother two Unions on those grounds!” He looked steadily at his opponent as he made this thrust; his features were quivering slightly.

“Aha!” Meyer responded, and he rubbed his hands with an expression that seemed to say that—now at last he felt firm ground under his feet. “Aha—so it’s out at last! So you’re a diplomatist into the bargain—a great diplomatist! You have a clever husband, little lady!” He turned to Ellen, who was busying herself at the sideboard. “Now just listen, Herre Pelle! You are just the man for me, and we must come to an arrangement. When two capable men get talking together something always comes of it— it couldn’t be otherwise! I have room for a capable and intelligent expert who understands fitting and cutting. The place is well paid, and you can have a written contract for a term of years. What do you say to that?”