"His power came from some great reseruoir of spiritual lif e else it could not have been so universal and so patent, but the majesty and beauty of the language with which he THIS MAN FROM LEBANON clothed it were atl his own." - CLAUDE BRAGDON THE BOOKS OF KAHLIL GIBRAN The Madman · 1918 Twenty Drawings 1919 The Forerunner · 1920 The Prophet · 1923 Sand and Foam 1926 lesus the Son of Man · 1928 The Earth Gods I9JI The Wanderer · 1932 The Garden of the Prophet 1933 Prose Poems · 1934 PUBLISHED BY ALFRED A. KNOPF THIS MAN FR.OM LEBANON A STI1DY OF KAHLIL GIBRAN BY BARBARA YOUNG NEW YORK ALFRED A. KNOPF MCMXLV THIS BOOK HAS BEEN PRODUCED IN FULL COMPLIANCE WITH ALL GOVERNMENT REGULATIONS FOR THE CONSERVATION OF PAPER, METAL, AND OTHER ESSENTIAL MATERIALS TO MARIANNA GIBRAN Cotyright.1945 by Barbara Young Ail rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission in writing /rom the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brie/ passages in o review to be printed in o magazine or newspaper. Manufactured in the United States of Americo Published simultaneously in Canada by The Ryerson Press FIRST EDITION FOREWORD There is a race of Strangers, of Wayfarers, that per­ lt is far from my desire to write anything so formi­ sists upon the Earth. They dwell with us awhile, calling dable as a biography of Kahlil Gibran. us brothers, but w� corne to be aware that they are of I do wish to write as simply and directly as possible an immortal stuff somewhat more deific than ourselves, of the Gibran I knew, the man among his friends, in his and only insofar as we receive and comprehend their studio at work with pencil or brush, the tireless one, the utterance, only insomuch as we join our wavering, un­ one who was ready sometimes with singing and laughter, certain voices with their voice, may we partake in brief always with quick understanding and instant recognition and finite measure of their communion. of good work from the pen of a fellow worker, and with When we write of these, we would that we might the unerring finger to point out a failure to record "the clip our quill in light, not ink. We would wish to write inevitable word in the inevitable place." of them with pure truth, not with platitude. Better still, To write revealingly of him is not a matter of re­ we would wish to sit at the feet of remembrance, writ­ hearsing the events and circumstances of his life and its ing only when the marvel of their power and wisdom achievements or the order of these events. No facts, no shall strike fire from the fagots of our silent heart, and assembly of facts, no recital of incidents and experiences when our writing shall be a flame upon the surround­ can give any true conception of the reality of Gibran. ing night. He was one of the rare gestures of the Mighty Unname­ B. Y. able Power, and in his voice and his being were vested an authority not to be confounded with mere human excel­ lence, for he was never wholly and entirely in this world. The reasons and laws that govern ordinary men do not govern genius. Gibran's mother said of him in his youth, "My son is outside of psychology." Never was vu there a truer word. She knew in her blood and in her Therefore it was not by chance that when The Prophet breath what brain would never have discovered. It was was read for the firsttime in public, at St. Mark's In-the­ knowing, not knowledge. Bouwerie in New York City on an autumn afternoon in Gibran would sometimes say, after long moments of 1923, I sat in the crowded church and listened to the preoccupation with some thought apparently far re­ reading by Butler Davenport, that distinguished gentle­ moved from the present time and place, "Forgive me. man of the theatre. So much of the time I am not here." And one being with I did not know until long afterward that the author him for hours at a time, day after day, grew accustomed of that amazing book sat also in the church, listening to to this withdrawal, recognized and respected it. his words as they fell upon the hearts of hundreds of To sit in his presence through this frequent silence utterly silent people. which descended upon him was an exaltation of the spirit. I knew only that I had heard startling and essential The vibration of the room heightened perceptibly, and truth spoken with a power and a beauty that I had never a sense of unearthly import lay upon the air. One held heard or read anywhere up to that moment. one's breath, fearful of breaking in upon his sanctuary. It was inevitable that I should have a copy of the And the return to the present seemed always an effortof book for my own, and that I should share it immediately the will. with others, many others. Inevitable too, that I should For seven years, and up to the very moment of his write, after a time, to the poet to express, however inade­ death, I had the joy and privilege of knowing Gibran quately, what depth and height and vastness his Prophet as poet and painter, and as a close and beloved friend. had added to my consciousness; and then his gracious Seven years of friendship and work; as he so generously invitation to corne to his studio "to talk about poetry" said, we were "poets working together in Beauty's and to see the pictures. name." So I went to the old West Tenth Street building, climbed the four flights of stairs and found him there, Gibran held the firmbelief that there is nothing small smiling, welcoming me as though we were old friends, in this earthly life, nothing by chance. He called it the which we soon found that we were, very old friends "continuity of life," and by this he meant this present, indeed. as well as all periods of existence that become the vessel for the human spirit both now and hereafter. It is all in We hear often the assertion that any estimate of the the Pattern, all in the inevitable Design. spirit and substance of an artist's work is of value only vm lX an impersonal insofar as it approaches the work from as before our meeting. The power and authority of the point of view. utterances contained between the covers of the books be impos- Repetition does not make truth. lt would overshadowed every other feeling for the time being, sible ' certainly ' for me to take an entirely impersonal and this was well. ' have foun 1t view of Gibran s poetry and painting. I d . ln 1931, a few months after Gibran had finished this to stand aside from Possible ' however ' through the years span of life, I wrote a slender brochure about this man fabnc. o f the persona! relationship, and to explore the from Lebano�. It was in response to hundreds of in­ the more s , this man's genius with an impartial regard, � quiries: "Where can we read something about him?" h1s I sincerely believe, because of intimate knowledge of There had been nothing written in English except the working self gained at close hand. briefest of articles. steeped in his work be­ It is a fact that I had become The brochure was written under stress during a period fore I the man himself. I had corneto him through knew of deep persona! sadness and exacting activity in the his poetry, not to the poetry through him. My position matter of caring for the precious effects left in the studio been taken, and it has never changed. had already where Kahlil Gibran had lived for eighteen years. The His own attitude was of great assistance. He knew many things that had been dear to his heart, and also to write of him. He knew that the that it was my purpose dear to the hearts both of the multitude of his friends not be overinfluenced by the devotion of writing must and of strangers who had visited him through the years also, the more from occasional dif­ friendship. He knew and had become no longer strangers - all these were opinion when one or the other would say, ferences of to be packed and sent, at his request, to his home town of "Over my dead body shall you publish that line," that Bsherri in Lebanon. a writer would not permitany softness or my integrity as There were literally hundreds of drawings and paint­ the estimate of his great work. sentiment to impair ings. Probably as many as half of them even I had never when I was about to depart upon During his lifetime seen, and they were stored on an upper balcony, row city where I would read some journey, to some distant upon row, in a sad condition of dust and neglect. But of the author, he would from the "black books" and speak there were young and ready hands to corne to the task: the people yo are to say, "When you stand up before � several faithful and devoted young Lebanese and Amer­ And it became mcreas­ forget that you are my friend." icans to whom the labour was at once a joy and a grief, to put aside, the remem­ ingly possible, not to forget, but but always a privilege, were constantly at my sicle until brance of that friendship, and to speak as impersonally all was completed.