——“Oh! mamma,” cried the poor child, bathed in tears, “Mrs. Goodman says in heaven it’s Sunday all the week.”
——“Well, what then?”
——“Oh!” sobbed the distressed innocent, “if I am a very good girl all the week, shan’t I be allowed to go down to hell to play with the little devils on Saturdays?”
It is time I should say that Mrs. Goodman is not at all an imaginary character. I have had the pleasure of enjoying the excellent lady’s company many times. On these occasions, I have had explained to me how the history of Napoleon can be plainly read in the Apocalypse of Saint John, how all the great historical events, from the battle of Hastings down to that of Tel-el-Kebir are spoken of as inevitable by Isaiah, Ezekiel, and other prophets.
You can explain everything with the help of the Bible: as its name indicates, it is the book par excellence. I have heard educated people, apparently in possession of their mental faculties, tell me that the victories of General Wolseley in Egypt were foretold in the third chapter of Jeremiah and the eighteenth verse. I must tell you that this was before the successes of the Mahdi.
However, among all the prophets, it is Isaiah that bears off the palm. The Vicar of All Angels passed a whole evening in showing me the French Revolution under quite a novel aspect, by the aid of the sixty-six chapters of Isaiah.
Mrs. Goodman also taught history to her Sunday School class, after the same fashion, Bible in hand.
It seems to me an error to seek to put the religious convictions of children to the proof. Those castles of abstractions that they build out of obedience must give way at the first shock. The thousand little fibs that are told to children, with a worthy intention, no doubt, cannot fail sometimes to sow in their souls profound impressions and doubts that are not easily uprooted. I speak from the experiences of my own childhood.
It was on a Sunday, in the month of June, 1856, at the time of the grand fêtes at Cherbourg. I was to make my first communion the Sunday following! Heaven knows how I prepared for it with all the fervour of my young soul; how I prayed constantly for faith; how I returned to the tribunal of penitence twice and thrice daily, fearing lest I might have left some small peccadillo unconfessed. On the Sunday in question, we were about thirty children assembled in the church for catechism. The curé, who was present, begged the priest to let him say a few words to us: “My dear children,” he began, “I have a great piece of news to announce to you. His Majesty the Emperor is at present in Cherbourg. Next Sunday, the day of your first communion, he will be passing through this town, and he invites you all to dine with him.” We looked at each other in silence, and if we had not been in such a sacred place, we should certainly have jumped with joy. As soon as I got home, I imparted the great news to my mother. My good mother, who saw that I was almost smacking my lips in advance over the thought of the tartes à la crême that the Emperor could scarcely fail to offer us, and who was always of opinion that you should never disappoint children if you would gain their confidence, merely replied: “Really? it is an extraordinary thing! After all, it is a capital idea of the Emperor’s! But unfortunately, emperors are folks whose time is very much occupied, and it may happen that he should have to return to Paris before being able to keep his engagement. But, make your mind easy, we will invite your aunt, godmother, and our friends, and we will celebrate the day worthily, so that you may not forget it, I will promise you that.” My dear mother knew that we had been deceived. I had swallowed the pill confidently.
On the following Thursday, we met together again for catechism. Seeing the curé among us, we expected he had come with some fresh announcement, and we lent an attentive ear to what might be coming. And indeed, no sooner had we all taken our seats, than he rose, and, addressing us, said: “My dear children, I have a great and glorious piece of news to tell you to-day. I told you last Sunday that the Emperor invited you all to dine with him on the day of your first communion. Well, it is something better than that: it is not the Emperor, it is God who on Sunday next will receive you at His table.”