Pelle the Conqueror by Martin Andersen Nexø (great novels to read .TXT) đ
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Pelle is still just a young boy when his father decides to move them from Sweden to the Danish island of Bornholm in search of riches. Those richesâof courseâbeing nonexistent, they fall into the life of farm laborers. As Pelle grows up among the other lowly and poor residents of the island, their cares and worries seep into him, and he finds himself part of a greater struggle for their dignity.
Pelle the Conqueror has been compared to Victor Hugoâs Les MisĂŠrables in its themes and scope. Nexø had become involved in the Social Democratic movement in Denmark that flourished after the turn of the 19th century, and this work closely follows his journalistic observations of the struggles of the people. It was published in four books between 1906 and 1910, and was immensely popular; the first book in particular is still widely read in Danish schools, and was made in to an award-winning 1987 film starring Max von Sydow as Father Lasse.
In this Standard Ebooks edition books one and four are translated by Jesse Muir, while books two and three are translated by Bernard Miall.
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- Author: Martin Andersen Nexø
Read book online ÂŤPelle the Conqueror by Martin Andersen Nexø (great novels to read .TXT) đÂť. Author - Martin Andersen Nexø
Pelle and Stolpe were standing against a wall, surrounded by a few dozen pickets. The police went up to them and reprimanded them. They had orders to hinder the picketing, but they had no desire to meddle with Pelle. They lived in the workersâ quarter, were at home there, and a word from him would make the city impossible for them.
The usual time for stopping work came round, but the workers were not released from the factory. The crowd used its wits to keep itself warm; punning remarks concerning strikebreakers and capitalists buzzed through the air. But suddenly an alarm ran through the crowd. The street urchins, who are always the first to know everything, were whistling between their fingers and running down the side streets. Then the crowd began to move, and the police followed at a quick march, keeping to the middle of the street. The factory had discharged the workers by a back door. They were moving down Guldberg Street by now, disheartened and with never a glance behind them, while a whole escort of police accompanied them. They were soon overtaken and brought home to the accompaniment of a sinister concert, which now and again was interrupted by cries of, âThree cheers for the gentlemen!â
The pickets walked in a long file, close to the procession, zealously occupied in noting each individual worker, while Pelle moved in the midst of the crowd, endeavoring to prevent overhasty action. There was need to be careful. Several men were still in prison because during the winter they had come to blows with the strikebreakers, and the police had received stringent orders from the authorities. The press of the propertied classes was daily calling for stricter measures, demanding that every meeting in the streets, and especially before the gates of a factory, should be broken up by the police.
Now and then a strikebreaker parted from the squad and ran into the door of his dwelling, followed by a long whistle.
Among the workers was a solitary, elderly man, still powerful, whom Pelle recognized. He kept at the extreme edge of the police, walking heavily, with bowed head, along the pavement close to the houses. His hair was quite gray, and his gait was almost crippled. This was Mason Hansen, Stolpeâs old comrade and fellow-unionist, whom Pelle had interviewed in the winter, in the hope of persuading him to refrain from strikebreaking.
âItâs going badly with him,â thought Pelle, involuntarily keeping his eyes on him. The results of strikebreaking had dealt hardly with him.
By St. Hans Street he turned the corner, winking at the policeman who was about to follow him, and went down the street alone, looking neither to right nor left, embarrassed, and with hanging head. Every time a child cried aloud, he started. Then he stood as though riveted to the ground, for in front of his door a heap of poverty-stricken household goods lay in the gutter. A crowd of gaping children stood round the heap, and in the midst of the group stood a youngish woman, with four children, who were keeping tearful watch over the heap of trash. The man pressed through the crowd and exchanged a few words with the woman, then clenched his fists and shook them threateningly at the tenement house.
Pelle went up to him. âThings arenât going well with you, comrade,â he said, laying his hand on the otherâs shoulder. âAnd you are much too good for what you are doing. You had better come with me and re-enter the organization.â
The man slowly turned his head. âOh, itâs you!â he said, shaking Pelleâs hand away with a jerk. âAnd you seem as cool and impudent as ever. Poverty hasnât dealt hardly with you! Itâs not at all a bad business, growing fat on the pence of the workers, eh?â
Pelle grew crimson with anger, but he controlled himself. âYour insults donât hurt me,â he said. âI have gone hungry for the Cause while you have been playing the turncoat. But that will be forgotten if youâll come with me.â
The man laughed bitterly, pointing at the tenement-house. âYouâd better go and give them a medal. Three months now theyâve tormented me and made hell hot for my wife and children, in order to drive us away. And as that didnât answer, they went to the landlord and forced him to give me notice. But Hansen is obstinateâ âhe wouldnât be shown the door. So now theyâve got the bailiffs to turn me out, see?â He gave a hollow laugh. âBut these few sticks, why, we can soon carry them up again, damn it all! Shall we begin, mother?â
âIâll willingly speak to the landlord. Remember, you are an old unionist.â
âAn oldâ âyes, I was in it from the very beginning.â The man drew himself proudly erect. âBut for all that I donât let my wife and children starve. So you want to go begging favors for me, eh? You be goneâ âat once, will you? Be off, to the devil, or Iâll beat you to a jelly with this!â He seized a table-leg; his eyes were quite bloodshot. His young wife went up to him and took his hand. âHansen!â she said quietly. He let his weapon fall. Pelle felt the womanâs pleading eyes upon him, and went.
XXXIWhen Pelle, tired to death, made his way homeward in the evening, he had lost the feeling of invincibility and his thoughts turned to Ellen.
In the daytime he felt neither hesitation nor certainty. When he set to work it was always with thousands behind him. He felt the great body of workers at his back, whether he was fighting in the open or waiting with close-buttoned coat to deal with the leaders of
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