Pages from the Life of Gibran and Howayek in Paris — 14

...The next day, while we were waiting for the model, Gibran asked me:

— Out with your news! Where were you up carousing last night, while the storm was raging over Paris?

— I was burrowed in a warm corner of the Café du Dôme, with Kalmi, Dr. Kaspar, and some of the girls...

Gibran said:

— Speaking of Kalmi... he came to see me yesterday with a moving-picture director. It seems my stories did not meet with favor... I managed to gather from their hints that they are not fit for the screen... And in truth, Youssef, I am not satisfied with anything I have written so far... I have tried to express certain private feelings of mine, and people rarely care for such feelings — the more so as they have not yet risen to the level I want... I am certain that I have "something" to say to people; only its time has not yet come... What did Kalmi and the doctor tell you?

— Many things... among them a love affair that happened to Kalmi and made him believe that everything outside the circle of nature is artificial... And Dr. Kaspar went him one better in pessimism and said: "Life on earth is nothing but a bit of 'mold!'"

Gibran shook his head and remarked:

— All that may well be true, but it is cold and dark, and it chokes the heart... Life, Youssef, needs adornment and ornament and poetry and love... Were it not for these, man would weary of it and hate it, and prefer death to it...

I said to him:

— Can you guess what one of the girls asked me?? She asked me, in all seriousness, "whether God exists!"

Gibran laughed at the question, lit a cigarette and drew deep on its smoke, then blew it into the air before asking me:

— And what was your answer to this girl? You — your uncle is a Patriarch, and you understand theology!

And before giving me time to answer, Gibran went on talking, analyzing the origin of religious beliefs, enumerating the gods of the ancients, and telling how most people in this age have a single God, and how some among them doubt even His existence!! At last Gibran said that he had it in mind to write a study on "Religion and Religiousness," and, after my habit, I advised him not to waste his time on theology — others before him had written massive volumes upon it and things had stayed as they were... And every man on earth is content with his creed, and with what he was taught of the nature of his religion from the morning his mother bore him!

And at Gibran's fervor I asked him, inquiring:

— And why all this desire to write?

He answered: "Perhaps it is an instinct in me, Youssef. I remember that when I first began to 'scrawl,' as children do — even at that early age I used to dream of selling my drawings and making a profit from them. And so it was whenever I read an entertaining story: a strong impulse would drive me to write stories. And today I hope that my writings will one day yield me a return... And be sure that true rapture never seizes me except when I am drawing or writing..."

By way of a joke I told Gibran of Kali's advice that we should dress ourselves in Eastern costume and give ourselves over to painting exotic pictures... Gibran objected violently: — No, never! That is rubbish... Charlatanry is not our business, Youssef...

That morning the model did not come as was her habit, and Gibran was invited out to lunch, so I left him and went to Madame Boudet's restaurant.

And in the evening, after finishing work at the art institute, I made my way to the Café du Dôme to spend the evening — and there was Dr. Kaspar meeting me with a hand raised in mock menace:

— Come, Monsieur Joseph, sit here by me. I have been waiting for you... There is a score to settle between us... Why did you tell Martine that God exists?...

— One would think a real offense had been committed!! And what crime is there in a girl's believing in the existence of God? Is that not better for her? And is there anything more charming than to hear a Parisian beauty inquiring about theology?... You are mistaken, my friend — and if it does not please you to hear it, then in your talk keep to the world of microbes! That is your field of specialty, and no doubt it is entertaining!!

He answered me in a tone less heated than before: — "The calamity is those who exploit the idea of belief in God..." — And from the direction of the door rose a loud clamor that cut our talk short, and a troop of the company came toward us: Suzanne, Léa, Kali, and some acquaintances, and among them a strange man. The waiter came hurrying and drew a second table up to ours; the circle widened, and the introductions began. And when the strange man heard my name, and turned toward Léa, Gibran's words and his gesture were repeated: — "From over there... from Lebanon... near Jerusalem." He showed delight and good cheer, and said he was very happy to meet an Eastern man, a Lebanese... and that he himself was from "Prague," the capital of Hungary, and occupied himself with the study of Eastern languages, above all Syriac. And he asked me whether I knew that language, and I answered yes, with a slight nod of the head and without warming to the matter — for my knowledge of Syriac is very limited indeed: I learned it as a boy in order to serve Mass for my late grandfather, Father Mikhail, and I used to repeat the phrases like a parrot without understanding the meaning of a single word!

But the strange man showed interest, and asked me to pronounce a Syriac phrase so that he might hear the ring of its cadence; and he turned in his seat toward me, all attention and listening, and the companions politely followed suit — even Suzanne and Léa; all of them listened for what would come out of my mouth... And finding myself the target of every eye and ear, I said, without stammering: — "Men fulutin d-shmayo 'iro ishtadar" — whereupon Léa could not hold back her ringing, mocking laugh, and Kali said: That sounds like Hebrew! As for the "Bohemian" scholar, tears all but sprang from his eyes, so deeply was he moved, and he begged me to repeat the phrase word by word, and kept repeating it after me... Then he asked me for a second phrase, and this time I met his request at once, and in a louder voice: "'Al 'atr w-basmeh tobeh d-heltakh Moryo teda barin w-b-zadiquto. Amen."

Everyone was dumbfounded, astonishment written on their faces, while the orientalist scholar gave himself over to explaining and expounding: that there is a tradition among the Arabs, the Jews, and the Fathers of the Church to the effect that the Syriac tongue was the language of our father Adam — the first man; that some scholars believe the first copy of the Torah was in Syriac... and that Christ and his disciples spoke this language... Finally he said that it had come to his ears that the Maronites in Lebanon still use Syriac in their religious rites... and that he was now on his way to the East to see for himself the excavations in progress there. And he asked me whether I could give him letters of introduction, and I promised to hand him a letter to my friend the Bishop of Beirut and another to my uncle, the Patriarch of the Maronites...

At that moment Mademoiselle Martine appeared at the door, and Dr. Kaspar rose on the instant, saying, in comment on our conversation: — "Ah... now I understand why you 'stand so stoutly at His side' and preach His existence to the girls... you two are kin!..." Then he took his leave and went off...