No sooner is the exploitation of the labourer so far at an end that he receives his wages in cash, than he is set upon by the other portions of the bourgeoisie: the landlord, the shopkeeper, the pawnbroker…
It’s that “set upon by the pawn broker” that I like. It’s atmospheric. You can see Marx looking up impatiently as Engels arrives.
“You’re two hours late, Frederich. Where were you?”
“I had a terrible trip. A pea soup fog. My postillion was struck by
lighting. And then to top it all, I was set upon by my pawnbroker.”
“It’s the fault of the bourgeoisie, Frederich.”
“Of course it is.”
And so, like good typists, they get to work on the tome. An international best seller which changed the world, and can be delivered to your desktop here.