13. We Have Learning; Fools Have Money

Poor George Baḥrī lacks one thing, and it makes him sad all the days of his life.

So he always tells me, sighing whenever we meet. He possesses sound opinions, he says, but is ignorant of Arabic grammar.

George Baḥrī is one of the great Syrian merchants, numbered among the people of wealth and commercial standing. He was among the earliest emigrants and humbled himself in menial occupations until diligence carried him to the top of the commercial ladder. Once he had acquired wealth and position, he looked around and saw himself standing alone, with nothing lacking. In wealth he was one of its lords; in prestige, one of its notables; in leadership, one of its pillars. Only one thing was missing: Arabic grammar, so that he could make speeches before assemblies and compose articles for newspapers.

This man is an image of the old-time Syrians who love to appear adorned with qualities they do not possess and to desire things far removed from them. When he was poor, he wished to become rich. Once rich, he wished to become eminent. He joined societies and donated here and there. People gathered around his financial position until a segment of the community considered him great. Then he wished to become an orator who stood at lecterns and captured listeners’ hearts.

He believed that grammar alone separated him from public speaking and authorship. He had come to America as a boy from a farm where there was no school to teach him.

Poor George Baḥrī. How sad that he did not command Arabic grammar, so that he might clothe his beautiful opinions in magnificent linguistic robes for the public benefit.

The man had strange habits I experienced personally. He loved courtesy, accommodation, and accompanying people he met on the street. He escorted them to their destinations, said farewell, and returned. Several incidents made me a little averse to him, though I scarcely knew him; he imposed his company on me against my will.

Many times, walking through the streets, I raised my head and saw him approaching from the far end of the block. The instant our eyes met, his hand rose. When we came face-to-face, he slammed it against mine and administered a tremendous shake.

I began lowering my gaze to the ground whenever I saw him in the distance, as though I had not noticed him. He was larger than a buffalo. I crossed to the other side of the street, but this did no good.

Once our eyes met at a distance, and I saw his hand rise when he recognized me. I resorted to a stratagem: my feet moved across the street, and I continued without looking toward him. How astonished I was to see an enormous man pushing sideways through the crowds, one hand raised to strike mine! Strike it he did. The report of the blow reached the vault of heaven. Only God and I know how that shake and blow hurt.

I did not wish to stop, lest a crowd gather to watch the scenes in the play of which we were the heroes. I pulled him along by the hand and we continued. He placed his left hand on my shoulder while keeping his right in mine. We walked—he talking, I cursing fate.

Whenever I tried to separate, he begged me to remain until we had crossed another particular street. All the while he delivered speeches into my ear: at one moment commerce, at another journalism; then he began with science and ended in politics, along with all the other arts mixed together in his brain.

As usual, when his long discourse ended, he asked for my opinion.

“Do you not think I have ideas?”

I humored him. “Yes, ideas—and what ideas!”

His face lit up at my fine answer, but then he said, “My dear fellow, I regret my ignorance of the Arabic language. If I were educated, I would deliver useful speeches.”

“Language is of little consequence if you possess thought.”

“But how can I weave my ideas?”

I told him he could read newspapers, magazines, and books and acquire Arabic expressions from them. If he used those phrases when speaking, he would lack nothing whatsoever. Grammar was neither necessary nor essential to a man who possessed opinions like his.

He informed me that he read a great deal—every book, newspaper, and magazine upon which his eye fell. He had become a storehouse of Arabic phrases.

While we were in this condition, we met a young man George knew. He gave him a handshake like the one he had given me, introduced us, and said that the young man had married three days earlier. Then, with me listening, he addressed the groom:

“I congratulate you on the marriage and the bride, and I wish you and her joys and sorrows.”[58]

I heard George and nearly released a hurricane of laughter, but held it in to hear the groom’s reply.

The groom answered in English, thanking Mr. George for his sentiments, and we parted from him. Then I smiled and looked at George. His face brimmed with a smile.

“Do you not see that I can construct eloquent speech?”

“Yes. The rhyme in your words particularly charmed me.”

He told me that earlier that day his eye had fallen upon “joys and sorrows” in a newspaper. He liked the expression and stored it in his mind for use. He was delighted by the circumstance that let him meet a bridegroom and say it. Since he understood “joys” and not “sorrows,” he thought they were synonyms.

I spent the rest of the day as though possessed, laughing to myself like a madman whenever I remembered what had happened. I remain so to this day.

Mr. George knew many proverbs with which he supported his conversations. He often attributed momentous events to himself, making himself the hero of things that had happened in the wombs of ancient history. He heard a story and took pleasure in it. When its turn came and it suited the occasion, he recounted it with himself as protagonist.

He believed in the Syrian’s boundless intelligence and always regretted that Syrians were uneducated; with learning, they would surpass every nation in intelligence. His proof was that he had succeeded in a foreign country whose language he did not know. He came to America with his own arm alone, trod upon many difficulties, conquered opposition, and obtained an ample fortune.

His great regret was that he entered the American arena without education. Had he been learned, his fortune would be many times its present size.

He often looked upon educated Syrians and saw that most were destitute. He shook his head sadly over the opportunities they had squandered, although they possessed the foundation upon which to build magnificent advancement in commerce.

“An educated Syrian comes to America and turns up his nose at every occupation. He refuses to sell from a pack or with a satchel. If he takes a job in a store, the seat scarcely grows warm beneath him before he leaves, mocking the proprietors.”

An incident with a clerk in his store led him to take against the man. One day he advised the clerk that if he wished to climb to the summit of success, he must humble himself. George offered himself as example. Had he not carried a pack on his back like a donkey for years and walked miles every day, he would never have attained his commercial position or employed so many educated people, including the clerk receiving the advice.

He added that if he had been educated like the clerk before coming to America, he would undoubtedly stand among the wealthy men of Wall Street.

The clerk was a college graduate working for Mr. George in hope of seeing a door open upon his future, though after ten years he saw no such door. He answered:

“But I swear to you, Mr. George, that if Your Excellency had come to America educated like me, you would be exactly as I am: working for someone else—someone who came without learning or knowledge, did not object to carrying loads on his back, and climbed the ladder of success rung by rung until he reached the summit. Had such men been educated, they would have contented themselves with their learning and disdained the elementary work that a man like Your Excellency does not disdain. You should thank God that you are not educated; otherwise you would not be rich today.”

The conversation ended with Mr. George dismissing his clerk. The man’s final words had been:

“Such is God’s law among His creatures: we have learning, and fools have money.”

NOTES

[58] Arabic afrāḥ wa-atrāḥ is a familiar rhyming pair meaning “joys and sorrows.” George understands afrāḥ and assumes the rhyming atrāḥ is a synonym rather than its opposite.
