Julia the Friend

The subjects on which one might speak of Julia are vast in scope, beyond all counting, in view of her intellectual standing, which embraces literature, society, and politics, and touches the many sides of her life, so full of virtues and of productive works done in obscurity.

But in obedience to the magazine's wish, I confine my hurried word to "Julia the Friend," sorrowing that a second star of Arabic letters should fall in our beloved Lebanon, so that history records in a single year an immortal page and a great, irreparable loss — Salma first, and Julia today.

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I wept for Salma with eyes brimming with tears — and today I weep for "Julia the Friend," whose friendship I enjoyed for a time long enough to teach me the loyalty of woman toward woman, stripped of all selfishness — I will not say jealousy, "that natural jealousy of a woman toward her sister woman," for there was in no woman any literary or spiritual quality that Julia could have envied her.

This on the literary side; as for the material, such things were too paltry in her eyes to draw a glance from her, for she turned all the powers of her soul and her thought to what is loftier and higher than the outward ornaments women have been accustomed to call upon to draw eyes to themselves.

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Julia the friend — this friendship goes back to the first day I knew her, when I kept to myself, mixing with no one but those enclosed by the walls of my house, amusing myself by writing a few articles over a pen name lest some accuse me of intruding upon literature.

I do not know how Julia learned the truth of the matter, but she visited me at my house to ask me to join the association of the "Women's League."

I thought the request too great and refused it with all my strength, for until then I imagined that my presence among a company of literary ladies was more than my powers could bear. I held back and she insisted, until she won me over with her argument that brooked no objection, inscribing in the history of my life the first shining page of woman's loyalty to woman.

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And so I walked with her, following in her footsteps and taking example from her unceasing struggle, which on meeting day would drive her to call at every lady's house to fetch her in her car, giving us a lesson in order and perseverance in the service of the noble aim required of woman — that struggle was a second page of Julia's friendship and loyalty toward her sister woman.

The third page came the day she visited me at my house to ask that I be the speaker at a women's gathering to be held in one of the theaters. I begged her then to choose someone else, for if I write an article, that does not entitle me to mount platforms, which are far from being in my character, given the natural shrinking bred in me by keeping apart from people — but, to satisfy her wish, I would write the speech on condition that someone else deliver it.

Julia smiled that sweet, winning smile of hers and said she was confident I would succeed in the delivery, for she would not have me lose my confidence in myself. Thus by her devotion she overcame my weakness, and I stood on the platform for the first time while she watched me from behind the curtains, encouraging, approving, applauding.

Nor shall I forget how she clasped me to her breast in congratulation when I finished, sealing from that hour the pact of firm friendship that bound us all her life.

On my last return from America — I remember the great inward shock that struck me the day I visited her, bedridden as she had been for years past. I had left her with the freshness of youth glowing on her face, and now I stood before a woman on whose face the creases of life had drawn visible lines telling of decline and of the swift dimming of that blazing flame.

But scarcely had I believed it was she, and heard the tones of her full voice, when I felt an awe that carried me back to the image of Julia the enchantress of conversation, the kindled mind, who knew how to bewitch her hearers with her eloquence, and which made her in truth the supreme leader of the women's renaissance in the days when she took the head of assemblies and platforms, stirring ambitions and reciting to her sisters words of encouragement to surmount obstacles and reach the highest goal.

None can deny the effect of her personality upon the soul of her hearer as she analyzed the most tangled matters with wisdom and awareness — which made her house a place of pilgrimage for men of letters and politicians who sought her out, as she ranged with them through the fields of literature and politics, probing and inquiring with the abundance of learning and force of argument she had been given.

For this her loss is counted a great loss to Arabic letters absolutely, for she was the friend of the schoolboy and the girl, the man of letters and the politician, granting each of them a measure of devotion and scattering over them a portion of her knowledge, so that her hearer wished she might go on speaking, that he might keep sipping her words like one athirst for sweet water dripping from a pure, overflowing spring.

I remember, when the time of my return to America drew near, that the Lebanese government refused to grant me Lebanese citizenship, after effort and insistence with all the departments, though it knew I was Lebanese by birth and upbringing. Then Julia appeared, with that devotion above which there is no devotion, and published a bold, mighty word in the pages of the newspapers, thanking the Lebanese government for refusing my request, because it had declined to confine my citizenship to Lebanon alone, and had made it universal, embracing all. With that word she raised my standing to the highest heavens, and with her boundless devotion inscribed the greatest immortal page upon the tablet of my breast.

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This is the Julia whom letters mourn today; she and Salma were beyond dispute two pillars of the modern women's renaissance, and her loss is the loss of the Arab woman everywhere.

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I remember, the day I bade Julia farewell for the last time before my journey, she gave me her picture, and on it the words: "Remember me, Mary, even after my death."

God forbid, Julia, that you should ever have doubted my undying love for your memory and Salma's — you two, most loyal of friends, most faithful, and dearest to my heart.

Mary