Pelle the Conqueror — Complete

by Martin Andersen Nexø

The “Great Power” opened his eyes and looked about him. His glance was so intelligent that every one knew that he had not long to live.

“It smells of brandy here,” he said. “Who will stand me a drop?” Emil reached him the bottle, and he emptied it. “It tastes good,” he said easily. “Now I haven’t touched brandy for I don’t know how long, but what was the good? The poor man must drink brandy, or he’s good for nothing; it is no joke being a poor man! There is no other salvation for him; that you have seen by Ström and Olsen—drunken men never come to any harm. Have they come to any harm?” He tried to raise his head. Ström stepped forward. “Here we are,” he said, his voice stifled with emotion. “But I’d give a good deal to have had us both blown to hell instead of this happening. None of us has wished you any good!” He held out his hand.

But the “Great Power” could not raise his; he lay there, staring up through the holes in the thatched roof. “It has been hard enough, certainly, to belong to the poor,” he said, “and it’s a good thing it’s all over. But you owe me no thanks. Why should I leave you in the lurch and take everything for myself—would that be like the ‘Great Power’? Of course, the plan was mine! But could I have carried it out alone? No, money does everything. You’ve fairly deserved it! The ‘Great Power’ doesn’t want to have more than any one else—where we have all done an equal amount of work.” He raised his hand, painfully, and made a magnanimous gesture.

“There—he believes he’s the engineer of the harbor works!” said Ström. “He’s wandering. Wouldn’t a cold application do him good?” Emil took the bucket in order to fetch fresh water. The “Great Power” lay with closed eyes and a faint smile on his face; he was like a blind man who is listening. “Do you understand,” he said, without opening his eyes, “how we have labored and labored, and yet have been barely able to earn our daily bread? The big people sat there and ate up everything that we could produce; when we laid down our tools and wanted to still our hunger there was nothing. They stole our thoughts, and if we had a pretty sweetheart or a young daughter they could do with her too—they didn’t disdain our cripple even. But now that’s done with, and we will rejoice that we have lived to see it; it might have gone on for a long time. Mother wouldn’t believe what I told her at all—that the bad days would soon be over. But now just see! Don’t I get just as much for my work as the doctor for his? Can’t I keep my wife and daughter neat and have books and get myself a piano, just as he can? Isn’t it a great thing to perform manual labor too? Karen has piano lessons now, just as I’ve always wished, for she’s weakly and can’t stand any hard work. You should just come home with me and hear her play—she does it so easily too! Poor people’s children have talent too, it’s just that no one notices it.”

“God, how he talks!” said Ström, crying. “It’s almost as if he had the delirium.”

Pelle bent down over the “Great Power.” “Now you must be good and be quiet,” he said, and laid something wet on his forehead. The blood was trickling rapidly from behind his ear.

“Let him talk,” said Olsen. “He hasn’t spoken a word for months now; he must feel the need to clear his mind this once. It’ll be long before he speaks again, too!”

Now the “Great Power” was only weakly moving his lips. His life was slowly bleeding away. “Have you got wet, little Karen?” he murmured. “Ah, well, it’ll dry again! And now it’s all well with you, now you can’t complain. Is it fine to be a young lady? Only tell me everything you want. Why be modest? We’ve been that long enough! Gloves for the work-worn fingers, yes, yes. But you must play something for me too. Play that lovely song: ‘On the joyful journey through the lands of earth….’ That about the Eternal Kingdom!”

Gently he began to hum it; he could no longer keep time by moving his head, but he blinked his eyes in time; and now his humming broke out into words.

Something irresistibly impelled the others to sing in concert with him; perhaps the fact that it was a religious song. Pelle led them with his clear young voice; and it was he who best knew the words by heart.