One day, feeling the need for a Bible, I had sent Mona out to search for one. I cautioned her not to buy one. Ask some one to make you a present of his copy. Try the Salvation Army or go to one of the Rescue Missions. She had done as I asked and been refused everywhere. (Damned strange! I thought to myself.) Then, as if in answer to a prayer, who pops up out of a clear sky but Crazy George! There he is, waiting for me, when I arrive home one Saturday afternoon. And Mona serving him tea and cake. I thought I was looking at an apparition.
Mona of course didn’t know that it was Crazy George, a figure out of my childhood. She had seen a man with a vegetable wagon standing on the dashboard preaching the word of God. The children were jeering at him, throwing things in his face, and he was blessing them (with whip in hand), saying: Suffer the little children to come unto me … Blessed are the meek and lowly…
George, I said, don’t you remember me? You used to bring us coal and wood. I’m from Driggs Avenue—the 14th Ward.
I remember all God’s children, said George. Even unto the third and fourth generation. Bless you, my son, may the Holy Spirit abide with you forever.
Before I could say another word George had begun to pontificate in the old fashion. I am one that bears witness of myself, and the Father that sent me beareth witness of me … Amen! Hallelujah! Praise the Lord!
I got up and put my arms around George. He had become an old man, a cracked, peaceful, lovable old man, the last man in the world I expected to see seated in my own home. He had been a terrifying figure to us boys, always cracking that long whip in our faces, and threatening eternal damnation, fire and brimstone. Lashing his horse furiously when it slipped on the icy pavement, raising his fist to heaven and imploring God to punish us for our wickedness. What misery we inflicted on him in those days! Crazy George! Crazy George! we shouted until we were blue in the face. Then we would fling snow-balls at him, icy, packed snow-balls, which sometimes struck him between the eyes and made him dance with rage. And while he chased one of us like a demon another would steal his vegetables or fruit, or dump a sack of potatoes into the gutter. Nobody knew how he had become that way. He had been preaching the word of God from his wagon ever since he was born, it seemed. He was like one of the prophets of old, and as filthy as some of the great Biblical prophets.
Twenty years had passed since I last saw George Denton. And here he was again, telling me about Jesus, the Light of the world. And He that sent me, said George, is with me! the Father hath not left me alone; for I do always those things that please Him … Ye shall know the Truth, and the Truth shall make you free. Amen, brother! May God’s grace abide in you and protect you!
There was little sense asking a man like George what had happened to him during all these years. His days had probably passed like a dream. It was plain to see that he took no thought for the morrow. He was still roaming about the city with his horse and wagon, quite as if the automobile did not exist. The whip was lying beside him on the floor—it was inseparable from him.
I thought I would offer him a cigarette. Mona had a bottle of Port in her hand.
The kingdom of God, said George, raising his hand in protest, is not meat and drink; but righteousness, and peace, and joy in the Holy Ghost … It is good neither to eat flesh, nor to drink wine, nor any thing whereby thy brother stumbleth, or is offended, or is made weak.
Pause whilst Mona and myself take a sip of Port.
Continuing as if he saw not nor heard not, George spouted: Know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own? Ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God s. Amen! Amen!
Not derisively but softly and easily I began to laugh—out of intoxication with the Holy Writ. George didn’t mind. He went on babbling, just as of old. Never addressed us as persons but rather as vessels into which he was pouring the blessed milk of the Holy Virgin. Of the material objects which surrounded him his eyes saw nothing. One room was like another to him, and none any better than the stable to which he led his horses. (He probably slept with them.) No, he had a mission to fulfill and it brought him joy and forgetfulness. From morn to midnight he was busy spreading God’s word. Even in buying his produce he continued to spread the Gospel.
What a beautiful, untrammeled existence, I thought to myself. Mad? Sure he was mad, mad as a bedbug. But in a good way. George never really hurt any one with that whip. He loved to crack it, just to convince nasty little urchins that he was not altogether a helpless old idiot.
Resist the devil, said George, and he will flee from you. Draw nigh to God, and He will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double-minded … Humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He shall lift you up.
George, I said, quelling the bubble of laughter, you make me feel good. It’s so long…
Salvation to our God which sitteth upon the throne, and unto the Lamb … Hurt not the earth, neither the sea, nor the trees, till we have sealed the servants of our God in their foreheads.
O.K.! Listen, George, do you remem…
They shall hunger no more, neither thirst any more; neither shall the sun light on them, nor any heat. The Lamb which is in the midst of the Throne shall feed them, and shall lead them unto living fountains of waters: and God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.
With this George took out a huge, filthy red poker-dot kerchief and wiped his eyes, then blew his nose vigorously. Amen! Praise God for His saving and keeping power!
He got up and went to the fireplace. On the mantel there was lying an unfinished manuscript weighted down by a figurine representing a dancing Hindu goddess. George veered round quickly and spake: Seal up those things which the seven thunders uttered, and write them not … In the days of the voice of the seventh angel, when he shall begin to sound, the mystery of God shall be finished, as He hath declared to His servants and the prophets.
Just then I thought I heard the horses stirring outside. I went to the window to see what was up. George had raised his voice. It was almost a shout now which went up from his throat. Who shall not hear Thee, O Lord, and glorify Thy name? for Thou only art holy.
The horses were tugging the wagon off, the urchins screaming with delight and helping themselves as of yore to the fruit and vegetables-. I beckoned to George to come to the window. He was still shouting … The waters which thou sawest, where the whore sitteth, are peoples, and multitudes, and nations, and tongues. And the ten horns…
Better hurry, George, or they’ll get away from you!
Quick as a flash George ducked for his whip and dashed out into the street. Whoa there, Jezebel, I heard him shout. Whoa there!
He was back in a jiffy offering us a basket of apples and some cauliflower. Accept the blessings of the Lord, he said. Peace be with you! Amen, brother! Glory, sister! Glory to God in the Highest! Then he made for his wagon, flicked the horses with his long whip, and waved blessings in all directions.
It was only after he had been gone some time that I discovered the worn-out Bible which he had forgotten. It was greasy, thumb-marked, fly-bitten; the covers were gone and pages were missing here and there. I had asked for the Bible and I had received it. Seek and ye shall find. Ask and it shall be given unto you. Knock and it shall be opened. I began spouting a bit myself. The Scriptures are headier than the strongest wines. I opened the Book at random and it fell open to one of my favorite passages:
And upon her forehead was a name written, MYSTERY, BABYLON THE GREAT, THE MOTHER OF
