Faith Coxe Bailey - George Mueller

W HEN G EORGE M UELLER heard the carriage door slam, he knew his father was very angry. George stopped, halfway down the broad stairs, waiting for the oak door to fling open. For two days now, he had been waiting for his fathers carriage to race up, spitting the gravel on the Heimersleben Roadwaiting more fretfully than fearfully, feeling like a prisoner in his own home.

The door swung back, and his father stamped in. So, you young jailbird, his father roared up at him. You dont even have the decency to hide.

George stared straight down into his fathers face. You might have paid my fine a lot faster, he said.

Now his father was at the bottom of the steps, his hand gripping the newel post. And miss the chance to teach you a lesson in honesty and respect! Nein! Well, what did a month behind bars teach my son?

Georges lips tightened, the corners of his mouth quirked downward. He shrugged. That the meals in German jails are terrible.

The newel post shuddered in Herr Muellers hand. But theyre better in the village inns, ja? What did I raisea common thief? Run up a bill and then sneak off without paying a penny!

Somebody didnt give you the facts, Father. One innkeeper took all my best clothes to pay for my room.

So you try to escape out the window from the next one, eh? What were you thinking of?

Just a good time. Thats all.

Maybe the police taught you about a good time. Also some respect for authority.

Police! Ha!

Youre a no-good at sixteen. If your mother were here. Herr Mueller broke off. Ach, shes been saved two years of misery. And where were you the night she died? Carousing around the streetdrunk!

Herr Muellers arm flailed out, and he grabbed for a cane, hanging on a wall rack. Then he thundered up the stairs, two at a time. Maybe thisll teach you respect for authority.

George stood stolidly on the stairs, not flinching, but within him a terrible rebellion boiled. Did one man have the right to cane another man? Servant and owner? Father and son? Why was there always someone to say, Do this? Father, teacher, innkeeper, police. Would it always be this way? Did it have to be? Then his father jerked him sideways, and he bounced against the wall.

Show me something to respect! George shouted. Youre nothing but a second-rate tax collector, grateful for the crumbs off the province table! I should respect you?

The cane pointed straight up at the beamed ceiling. Ill teach you!

Watching it, George thought, Some day Ill be free. Free of my father, free of every man, free. The cane cut through the air with a whistle and sudden sharp pain. Again, and again, and again.

Back at school in Nordhausen, the caning and the springtime skirmish with the police were only unpleasant memories. And not entirely unpleasant. They made good telling over a mug of beer.

The next two years and a half slid by, with Latin, Hebrew, Greek, the Classics, and a good deal of beer at the Nordhausen village tavern. When George was nineteen, he was accepted at the University of Halle.

Walking up from the Halle railway station, clattering along over the cobblestones, sniffing the violets and the old books that sold side by side along the main street, he realized he was now officially a student of divinity, properly accepted by the Lutheran Church of Germany. It was his fathers wish.

Even so, he felt freer than he ever had. Setting his knapsack on the pavement, he stopped to admire the sturdy old stone wall that cut the city in two, a leftover from medieval fortifications, he guessed. Well, the old wall wouldnt box him in. Divinity student or not, he would do exactly as he pleased.

One night, late that fall, the barmaid served the fourth round of beer to the students at the long table. Right across the road from the university, Der Grner Tisch did a bustling business with students. The air under the rafters was choked with biting tobacco smoke, and three young men pounded on the long green table in wavering rhythm. Suddenly the door opened.

Somebody shouted, Heres George Mueller. Now the fun starts. Only divinity student who pawns his watch to pay his card debts more often than he reads his Bible. Everybody laughed, and the table-pounders threatened to splinter the wood. George scraped a chair across the stone floor, squeezing into the crowd at the table.

Herr Mueller who says hes studying to be a Lutheran minister. Dont listen to him. Hes really a jailbird!

All right, Emil. They all know me. Wheres my beer? George squinted happily through the smoke along the table. Here were his university friends, his drinking companions since the fall. But at the end sat a strangera stranger who looked familiar.

Emil, do I know everybody here tonight?

Ach, stupid me! Here is Beta. Down here. Hes new. Beta, this is George Mueller, who just last week drank five quarts of beer at once and.

Beta ducked his head to peer along the table. His voice had a hurried, eager sound. I know George Mueller.

George stared back at the fellow, hearing him say, Dont you remember? We went to school together. Swiftly, George flipped past classrooms in his mind. Halberstadt? Nordhausen? Why did the fellow sound so eager?

Then an unpleasant picture of a hymnbook and a Bible snapped into place. Now he remembered Beta! A goody-goody, if there ever was one. Wouldnt cheat on an exam. Went to church every Sunday. Didnt object to naming off your sins right to your face. Didnt drink! Yet there he was at Der Grner Tisch with a mug of beer in front of him. Georges lips tightened, and he looked the other way.

Beta, of course, I remember now. Ah, theres my beer. Say, did I interrupt a story when I came in? Lets have the rest of it.

Actually, it was George who told the next story. so I just slung things around in my room and made it look like a real robbery. Everybody felt so sorry. Every one of them stopped in to say I didnt have to pay back a penny of my card debts. Besides, they took up a collection for me. So I doubled my money.

When Der Grner Tisch closed long after midnight, George helped head the three table-pounders toward their lodgings, shouted good night to Emil and the rest, and started down the road alone. But to his surprise, Beta trotted right beside him.

All evening, the sight of the fellow had made George uneasy. He was sure he knew why. Now Beta said, George, I want to be friends.

I know. For a minute they clattered along the cobblestones in silence. Then George added, Sodo I. It was something that he hadnt admitted to himself until that minute. Now he knew that he didnt want to take the words back.

Beta grinned. Im surprised to hear it. When you knew me beforewell, I guess I was a pill.

What was Beta saying?

But everythings different now.

Different?

Before, back at school, II looked up to you.

Looked up to me? You called me a sinner.

Betas words spilled out. I envied you because you were so good at cards. Because you werent scared of teachers, or police, while I hung around on the fringes. Going off to prayer meeting with my Bible.