The Greatest Works of Selma Lagerlöf. Selma Lagerlöf
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his garments and strewn his hair with ashes.
When our Lord saw him so distressed, He sat down on the ground beside him, and talked to him, just as He would have done had they still been wandering around in this world of trouble.
“What is it that makes you so sad, Saint Peter?” said our Lord.
But grief had overpowered Saint Peter, so that he could not answer.
“What is it that makes you so sad?” asked our Lord once again.
When our Lord repeated the question, Saint Peter took the gold crown from his head and threw it at our Lord’s feet, as much as to say he wanted no further share in His honor and glory.
But our Lord understood, of course, that Saint Peter was so disconsolate that he knew not what he did. He showed no anger at him.
“You must tell me what troubles you,” said He, just as gently as before, and with an even greater love in His voice.
But now Saint Peter jumped up; and then our Lord knew that he was not only disconsolate, but downright angry. He came toward our Lord with clenched fists and snapping eyes.
“Now I want a dismissal from your service!” said Saint Peter. “I can not remain another day in Paradise.”
Our Lord tried to calm him, just as He had been obliged to do many times before, when Saint Peter had flared up.
“Oh, certainly you can go,” said He, “but you must first tell me what it is that displeases you.”
“I can tell you that I awaited a better reward than this when we two endured all sorts of misery down on earth,” said Saint Peter.
Our Lord saw that Saint Peter’s soul was filled with bitterness, and He felt no anger at him.
“I tell you that you are free to go whither you will,” said He, “if you will only let me know what is troubling you.”
Then, at last, Saint Peter told our Lord why he was so unhappy. “I had an old mother,” said he, “and she died a few days ago.”
“Now I know what distresses you,” said our Lord. “You suffer because your mother has not come into Paradise.”
“That is true,” said Saint Peter, and at the same time his grief became so overwhelming that he began to sob and moan.
“I think I deserved at least that she should be permitted to come here,” said he.
But when our Lord learned what it was that Saint Peter was grieving over, He, in turn, became distressed. Saint Peter’s mother had not been such that she could enter the Heavenly Kingdom. She had never thought of anything except to hoard money, and to the poor who had knocked at her door she had never given so much as a copper or a crust of bread. But our Lord understood that it was impossible for Saint Peter to grasp the fact that his mother had been so greedy that she was not entitled to bliss.
“Saint Peter,” said He, “how can you be so sure that your mother would feel at home here with us?”
“You say such things only that you may not have to listen to my prayers,” said Saint Peter. “Who wouldn’t be happy in Paradise?”
“One who does not feel joy over the happiness of others can not rest content here,” said our Lord.
“Then there are others than my mother who do not belong here,” said Saint Peter, and our Lord observed that he was thinking of Him.
And He felt deeply grieved because Saint Peter had been stricken with such a heavy sorrow that he no longer knew what he said. He stood a moment and expected that Saint Peter would repent, and understand that his mother was not fit for Paradise. But the Saint would not give in.
Then our Lord called an angel and commanded that he should fly down into hell and bring Saint Peter’s mother to Paradise.
“Let me see how he carries her,” said Saint Peter.
Our Lord took Saint Peter by the hand and led him out to a steep precipice which leaned slantingly to one side. And He showed him that he only had to lean over the precipice very, very little to be able to look down into hell.
When Saint Peter glanced down, he could not at first see anything more than if he had looked into a deep well. It was as though an endless chasm opened under him.
The first thing which he could faintly distinguish was the angel, who had already started on his way to the nether regions. Saint Peter saw how the angel dived down into the great darkness, without the least fear, and spread his wings just a little, so as not to descend too rapidly.
But when Saint Peter’s eyes had become a little more used to the darkness he began to see more and more. In the first place, he saw that Paradise lay on a ring-mountain, which encircled a wide chasm, and it was at the bottom of this chasm that the souls of the sinful had their abode. He saw how the angel sank and sank a long while without reaching the depths. He became absolutely terrified because it was such a long distance down there.
“May he only come up again with my mother!” said he.
Our Lord only looked at Saint Peter with great sorrowful eyes. “There is no weight too heavy for my angel to carry,” said He.
It was so far down to the nether regions that no ray of sunlight could penetrate thither: there darkness reigned. But it was as if the angel in his flight must have brought with him a little clearness and light, so that it was possible for Saint Peter to see how it looked down there.
It was an endless, black rock-desert. Sharp, pointed rocks covered the entire foundation. There was not a green blade, not a tree, not a sign of life.
But all over, on the sharp rocks, were condemned souls. They hung over the edges, whither they had clambered that they might swing themselves up from the ravine; and when they saw that they could get nowhere, they remained up there, petrified with anguish.
Saint Peter saw some of them sit or lie with arms extended in ceaseless longing, and with eyes fixedly turned upwards. Others had covered their faces with their hands, as if they would shut out the hopeless horror around them. They were all rigid; there was not one among them who had the power to move. Some lay in the water-pools, perfectly still, without trying to rise from them.
But the most dreadful thing of all was—there was such a great throng of the lost. It was as though the bottom of the ravine were made up of nothing but bodies and heads.
And Saint Peter was struck with a new fear. “You shall see that he will not find her,” said he to our Lord.
Once more our Lord looked at him with the same grieved expression. He knew of course that Saint Peter did not need to be uneasy about the angel.
But to Saint Peter it looked all the while as if the angel could not find his mother in that great company of lost souls. He spread his wings and flew back and forth over the nether regions, while he sought her.
Suddenly one of the poor lost creatures caught a glimpse of the angel, and he sprang up and stretched his arms towards him and cried: “Take me with you! Take me with you!”
Then, all at once, the whole throng was alive. All the millions upon millions who languished in hell, roused themselves that instant, and raised their arms and cried to the angel that he should take them with him to the blessed Paradise.
Their shrieks were heard all the way up to our Lord and Saint Peter, whose hearts throbbed with anguish as they heard.
The angel swayed high above the condemned; but as he traveled back and forth, to find the one whom he sought, they all rushed after him, so that it looked as though they had been swept on by a whirlwind.
At last the angel caught sight of the one he was to take with him. He folded his wings over his back and shot down like a streak of lightning, and the astonished Saint Peter gave a cry of joy when he saw the angel place an arm around his mother and lift her up.