ALEPPO MINARET
ALEPPO MINARET
In 1893 a plan was developed in the mission to extend our sphere of labor so as to include the city of Aleppo, which had been occupied many years before by the mission and then left because of the exigencies of the work and lack of forces. It was a four days' journey from our nearest outstation, and hence not easy to care for; but as Tripoli Station was the nearest part of the mission, Aleppo was placed under our direction.
Aleppo is one of the largest cities in Syria, and a most important commercial center. It is nearly the most northern point for the use of the Arabic language, as Turkish becomes the general medium of communication one day's journey farther north. Being so near the Turkish district,there are many Turkish-speaking people in Aleppo, but the city as a whole is essentially an Arabic-speaking place. The American Board had a Turkish congregation connected with their mission and maintained church and school work in Aleppo for the Turkish-speaking strangers resident in the city. There was the most cordial welcome from these missionaries to our proposal to organize work for the Arabic-speaking population. Before making my first visit of supervision to Aleppo it was arranged by correspondence that Mr. Sanders of Aintab, the missionary in charge of that district, should meet me and spend several days in conference as to the arrangement of details of our interlocking work. It had been proposed most kindly that we should hold our Arabic services in the premises of the Turkish congregation.
In many ways that first journey to Aleppo was a unique experience. It was a venture into a region of country whollynew to me, and involved planning for a new department of service. There were two ways to reach Aleppo, one wholly by land, involving a somewhat dangerous ride from Hamath for four days; the other by sea to Alexandretta, and thence by horseback over a carriage road to Aleppo. It was decided to take this latter course, though all subsequent visits were made the other way. After gaining all the information I could before leaving home, I took the steamer to Alexandretta, where I landed on Monday morning. At once I began my search for a riding animal, and at length secured a horse guaranteed to be swift and of easy gait, whose owner promised to see me in Aleppo by the evening of the third day. Delayed by those who wished to accompany us, it was past noon before we set out on the road. It was not long before I discovered that the ease had been left out in the structure of my horse, and that any speed he may have had once was well-nigh worn out. It wasclear that I should have to work my passage, but my courage held out.
We pressed up the mountain slope and crossed the ridge in good time, having many beautiful views back over the dark blue Mediterranean. Mount Cassius lifted its rocky head five thousand feet, directly out of the sea, to the south, showing where the Orontes empties into the sea at old Seleucia. After passing the summit of the range we dropped down rapidly to the Antioch plain, having the lake of Antioch in full view before us. By sunset we had reached the place intended as our first halt, thirty-seven kilometers from the shore. I found no place of entertainment but a bare inn where I could set up my camp bed and sleep. There was no food to be had for love or money and so I had to depend on the scant supplies I had brought with me in my saddlebags.
The second day's ride was much longer than the first, as we kept to the saddle for twelve hours, notwithstanding the entreatyof my companions to break the journey earlier. I reminded them of the pledge to reach Aleppo on the third day, and so kept on until dusk. We had left the carriage road for a more direct trail and stopped for the night in a small, desolate village. There was no decent shelter to be found and so I gladly set up my bed on the threshing floor, and slept under the starry sky. I inquired for milk, eggs, bread, cheese, anything in the way of food, offering ample pay for anything edible. After much persuasion the people were induced to burrow in the straw pile on the threshing floor from which they produced a watermelon. This was refreshing at least, and helped to wash down my bread, which was getting rather dry, as I did not like to use much water in this swampy region. Long before dawn we were again on the road and pushed steadily ahead over ridge after ridge, until, in the middle of the afternoon, the city of Aleppo broke on our sight, a most refreshing vision. In one of thevalleys near Aleppo the traveler cannot fail to notice many heaps of small stones, evidently placed there to mark certain spots. The place is called the valley of the slain, and each pile indicates where some victim has fallen.
The appearance of Aleppo as one approaches it from the west is not unpleasing, for it is the first well-built town seen after leaving the coast. The houses are built of white limestone and the gardens about the city lend a touch of green, most refreshing after the barren country left behind. At first sight the designation of Aleppo as Halch-es-Shahba—Aleppo the Gray—seems most appropriate. It is a pity to detract from the more poetic explanation of the title. Old tradition says that Abraham had his encampment at the site of Aleppo for a long time, and was recognized throughout the region for his wealth and generosity. He had set apart for the use of the poor the milk from a certain gray cow in his herd, and hencesome one was always on the watch at evening. As soon as the gray cow came forward, this watchman would shout at the top of his voice, "Haleb es Shahba," which means, "He has milked the gray cow." Hence the city, which later grew up at this spot, was called Haleb-es-Shahba, or Aleppo.
I shall never forget a conversation connected with that journey. My comrades were all Moslems, and as we jogged on, hour after hour, during those three days, there were opportunities for conversation on many topics. One day I asked one of them who was a religious teacher, what his doctrine had to say as to the fate of non-Moslem infants who died in infancy. I was surprised to find how closely his view parallels our own Christian view of infant salvation. He answered at once that they are all saved through the intercession of Mohammed.
On reaching the city I sought a hotel, in order to remove the soil of travel beforehunting up our friends in this strange city. I was in the midst of making myself presentable when a loud knock at my door was followed immediately by its opening, and a rough Turkish police officer made his appearance. Without a word or suggestion of apology, he began a series of questions as to my name, residence and occupation. I let him exhaust his list of questions and then asked, as quietly as possible, whether he would like to look over my Turkish passport, which was required of all in those days. He seemed to be so completely taken aback at my evident lack of awe for himself, and surprised to meet a person who was prepared in accordance with the law, that he could scarcely stammer out in reply, "Why, have you a passport?" "Certainly," I replied. "Here it is, with all the information you need." He sat down most meekly and copied off the items he needed and took his departure in a really polite manner.
As this was my first visit to Aleppo,everything seemed strange to me, except in so far as all oriental cities have a measure of resemblance. As I was met also by Mr. Sanders, a missionary in charge of established work, I found it natural to expect to be dependent on him for everything. It came thus as a surprise to have him turn to me, in the street, to act as interpreter. He spoke Turkish, but my Arabic was far more necessary and serviceable in general intercourse.
These experiences impressed it upon me most vividly that Aleppo is thoroughly an Arabic-speaking city, and that the work should be in organic connection with the evangelical work in other parts of Syria. The Turkish congregation is a natural member of the Cilicia Union and should affiliate with the churches of the north, but the Arabic evangelical work belongs with the organizations under the care of our mission in Syria. For four years this arrangement was continued and we maintained Arabic services with a Syrianpreacher and a day school with a Syrian teacher. Each year two missionary visits were made, the missionaries in Tripoli alternating in this duty. It was difficult to carry on the work at such long range. In 1897 a heavy cut in our appropriations made it necessary to consider every possible method of retrenchment. At the same time the English Presbyterians were opening a station in Aleppo for work among the Jews, and it seemed best, all things considered, to ask our English friends to relieve us of this responsibility, and assume the care of the work for the Gentiles as well as for the Jews through the medium of Arabic, in Aleppo. Thus our official connection with the work in Aleppo ceased, but it has never passed from our minds that some day an Arabic-speaking evangelical church in Aleppo should become a member of our Syrian Presbyterian organization. Now that the railroad has brought Aleppo within six hours' ride from Hamath, the problem has assumed a newform and we may hope for a renewal of friendly affiliation.
Such a city as Aleppo, with about two hundred and fifty thousand people and increasing commercial importance, demands much of the missionary organizations. The famous Constantinople Bagdad railway of the Germans passes through Aleppo. A branch line connects with the Mediterranean at Alexandretta. The French system from Beirut ends in Aleppo, giving direct connection with Damascus, Beirut and Tripoli. The work of the American Board, being at present in Turkish, reaches only a small part of the population. The English mission places its emphasis on work for the Jews and has ample scope in that part of the population. There remains the vast bulk of the whole population, with Arabic as their language, looking naturally to the American mission in Syria for help and guidance. The large Moslem population and the numerous nominal Christians deserve the attention of aresident American missionary to organize aggressive and effective work. Shall we wait longer before pressing on in this direction?
Aleppo has been chosen by the International Committee of the Y.M.C.A. as a place where a building should be erected and a permanent secretary established. Should we fall behind the Y.M.C.A.? Whenever the American Presbyterian Church says the word and furnishes the men and the money, I am sure the Syrian mission will be ready to send one of its members forward to this new frontier. God forbid that another quarter century should pass before this is fulfilled.
It has been my privilege to watch from the beginning the growth and development of three prosperous churches in the territory of Tripoli Presbytery. Each one has been marked by peculiarities that render it especially interesting. In the early years of my acquaintance with the church in Homs, I heard frequently of evangelistic visits on the part of the young men of the church to various villages in the plain east of the city—especially to one large village about two miles southeast of us. The people of this village are of the Syrian or Jacobite church, and have no little familiarity with the Bible and a really religious disposition. Our young men from Homs used to go out in small bands of two or more, with their gospelsand hymn books in their pockets. If they met a friendly reception, they would go into some house, where those who were interested would gather together and a simple service or friendly discussion would be held. If no one asked them to come in, they would seek a place in the public square where people were gathered together, and sing a hymn or read a passage to open the way for discussion. In such cases there was danger of an exhibition of hostility on the part of those who were unfriendly to the evangelical doctrine. It happened more than once that these faithful messengers were driven out of town, pursued with stones as well as reviling. Such treatment, however, could not suppress the truth, and a strong church has grown up from the seed thus sown amid hostile persecution.
There was a most interesting old priest in this town of Feiruzeh who received the truth into his heart, but never had the courage to leave the old church, though hewas known to be at heart an evangelical believer. He sought books on the evangelical doctrine and studied them earnestly, and sometimes attended the Protestant service, being present at least once on a sacramental occasion. He openly taught his people the folly of auricular confession and priestly absolution, saying to them: "If you wish to come to me and tell me of your sins, so that I may help you and pray with you to God for forgiveness, I am at your service; but I am a sinner like you and we all have access to one Saviour. I cannot forgive your sins, but will gladly pray for you and with you."
There had been some inquiry about the truth on the part of a few people in the village of El Yazidiyeh. In my first visit to the place we pitched a tent on the threshing floor outside the village. Much curiosity in our coming was shown, and some opportunity given to strengthen the purpose of those who were inclined to the truth. At length a teacher was stationedthere and a simple school opened. One or two of the people had joined the church in a neighboring village, but the sacrament had never been administered in the town itself. Several were ready to make a public profession of their faith in Christ, and it seemed that the time had come to begin the full life of the little church, by administering the sacrament on the spot. Plans were arranged for an evening service in the schoolroom, and a good company was gathered in the rudely furnished, dark little room. There was much disturbance outside when it was known what was in progress. One zealous defender of the truth sprang from his seat and rushed out in a most militant manner to disperse the noisy crowd without. While the little service was in progress, it was not always easy to keep the attention of all, on account of the noisy beating of tin cans near by; and some pebbles were thrown in at the windows. The service was completed, however, and this was the beginning ofwhat has proved to be one of our most vigorous churches. There is now a simple church building, which is always well filled at regular services, and new members are ready to come forward at almost every communion service.
The village of Hakoor is memorable, not so much because of hostile opposition to the work as because of the apparently feeble instrument used of God for the establishment of the church. A blind man, of keen and inquiring mind, lived in this village and made a precarious living by keeping a little shop. He was respected by his neighbors for his integrity of character, and trusted by the church authorities for his fidelity to church duties. He began to hear something of the new evangelical doctrine and though ready to investigate, was strong in his opposition and slow to yield to the new faith. When once thoroughly convinced, however, his very honesty of nature made him accept the truth and declare himself for the Protestantview. The bishop sent for him, in order to recall him from his error. He told the bishop that he was convinced that the teaching and practice of the Greek Church were not in harmony with the gospel, and that he had decided to follow the teaching of God rather than that of men, but that he was ready to hear anything the bishop had to say to convince him that he was mistaken. The bishop began to read him a controversial tract recently prepared against the Protestant doctrine. Our blind friend interrupted him, saying: "I have heard all that and can give you an outline of the whole argument. It does not convince me and so, if you have nothing stronger, it will do no good." The bishop then reviled him, comparing his course to that of Judas toward Christ, and so cast him off. The blind man went home, glad to suffer abuse for the truth. He gathered around him a group of neighbors who studied the gospel under his guidance, and a little church has grown up in thatvillage, to which he ministered regularly for a year, when no other preacher could be found. The little band has been full of zeal and has raised the money to build a little chapel in which they worship and in which their children are taught.
By means which are insufficient in the sight of men, in spite of opposition from those who are hostile to the truth, God's word continues to bear fruit and the gospel light continues to spread throughout the world.
The missionary is met, in his periodic visitation of the outstations, with every conceivable request and complaint. I am often asked to mend a clock or a watch. I have been appealed to to adjust a coffee mill which did not work right. Matrimonial and family difficulties must often be arranged. I have told the people that there is one complaint I am always glad to hear, and that is to the effect that the place of worship is too small for the regular attendants. When I first went to thevillage of Minyara, the services were held in a small room about twenty by twenty-five feet. There was room to spare, though not a great deal. In a few years it became necessary to plan for enlargement. This was accomplished by securing a piece of land adjacent to the building, taking out the end wall and extending the room so as to increase its capacity about two thirds. The growth of the congregation was so rapid and steady that this enlargement was not completed before the room was again inadequate. An appeal was made to a generous friend in St. Louis, and five hundred dollars were sent for the Minyara chapel. A further piece of land was secured, and plans made for an entirely new and larger building. The outline is rectangular, and the flat roof is supported by three rows of arches, resting on six pillars. This building has been ample for the accommodation of this growing church for many years, though it is often well filled and would be far fromsufficient, were not half the members in America.
In the city of Homs the old church had a flat dirt roof supported by two heavy arches, which made the room seem dark and contracted. The regular congregations taxed the capacity of the building, and the roof timbers were showing signs of weakness which would necessitate an early renewal. The pastor of the church began to work earnestly for a reconstruction of the roof, with an enlargement of the audience room. There was a little vacant space at one end of the building which if it were inclosed would increase the capacity about forty per cent. At the same time the heavy arches could be removed and a galvanized iron roof placed over the enlarged building. But this would cost a considerable sum, and how was that to be raised? The people thought they could not raise more than two hundred dollars. The same friend in St. Louis, who had provided for the Minyara chapel, sent another fivehundred dollars, and we made this proposition to the church: "After the church spends two hundred and fifty dollars, the mission will put in five hundred, but if any more is needed the church must provide it." They went to work with a will. When the dirt from the old roof was to be carried out they organized a regular church bee. All the men of the church came together, the pastor, the doctor, the teacher, the merchant, each one taking one of the rough baskets in which they carry dirt, and all together got the whole pile removed at a considerable saving to the building fund. Before the work was finished the church had raised and expended quite as much money as they had received from outside. This enlarged place of worship has again become too small, and its further enlargement is a pressing problem.
HADETH SUMMER HOME
HADETH SUMMER HOME
ABU MAROON, THE HADETH CARPENTER
ABU MAROON, THE HADETH CARPENTER
At the close of a tour one spring, Mrs. Nelson and I were compelled to reach home on a fixed date, because of the expected arrival of guests. The weather had been unpropitious and the rains heavy for the season of the year. At one point we had been shut in for several days by a snowstorm, and all the rivers were unusually high. We had a broad plain to cross, intersected by three rivers which must be forded. The rain had been persistent, but ceased on the day we were obliged to start for home. We reached the first river after about an hour's ride, and crossed it successfully, the water coming near to the girths of the saddles. The second river was reached and crossed without serious difficulty, but from there onward the entire plain seemed to be under water, and ourhorses splashed along through water and mud without interruption. Toward sundown we neared the last stream, and congratulated ourselves that just beyond it we should find the carriage road and a dry place for the night. Our road lay through a wretched little Nusairiyeh village, just before reaching the river, and as we passed the houses we were hailed by many voices assuring us that the river could not be forded with safety. I did not believe this at first, thinking it merely a ruse to compel us to spend the night in their village. Such an event would be more or less profitable to the people who would provide our necessities for a consideration, even if there was no thought of robbery, which was quite possible also. We waited for our muleteers, as they were familiar with the stream and would be able to decide whether we could cross or not. Their verdict agreed with the statement of the villagers and so we were obliged to negotiate for a lodging place.
After some parley we were allowed to stop in the sheik's public room. There was not a dry spot about the town, but by riding up close to the door, we were able to dismount on a large log, and then jump across a mud puddle to the doorsill, and so enter the room assigned to us. It would be hard to make anyone who has not seen such houses realize what this room was like. It was about twenty feet square, with one door and no window. The lack of this latter was partly supplied by the fact that the wall of the house had tumbled in at one corner, leaving a ragged hole through which light and air entered freely. The floor was of dirt and at two levels. One half, which was used to accommodate people, was reached by a high step and was comparatively dry. In the middle of this higher floor was a smoldering wood fire, from which the smoke had colored the roof timbers a shiny black. The lower half of the floor was on a level with the ground outside or even a little lower, and was decidedlymuddy. This section was for the accommodation of horses and cattle. When our party was all inside, so that we could take a census, we found that the occupants of the room for the night were to be, besides myself and my wife, the three muleteers, a cook and a Syrian maid accompanying us to the city. We were in the higher part of the room. In the other part were two horses, four mules, a goat and a calf. These were the visible animals, and anyone who has traveled under similar conditions will appreciate what is meant when I say there were myriads of other creatures which made themselves known through other senses than sight.
The sheik was seated by the fire, warming himself, and gave us a scant welcome. We took such a supper as we were able to provide in the circumstances, and prepared to be as comfortable as possible for the night. One of the men had been suffering from malaria and so I prepared for him, and others in the party, a dose of quinine,after the fatigue and exposure of the day. The sheik immediately asked what it was, and desired a dose for himself and the other men present. It was the same principle as that which makes bargain sales attractive. Something is going cheap or gratis, and so I must have it, whether I need it or not. Doses were given out to all who wished for it, for a few grains of quinine seldom go amiss in this country. Conversation was not very lively, about that smoky fire, as we were tired and there were not many topics of common interest. At length our cook thought he would facilitate matters a little. He had lived with foreigners long enough to know the advantage of appealing to the gallantry of men toward the ladies, so he said in his most ingratiating tone to the sheik, "The lady is tired and would like to go to sleep." "Well, let her do so, there is no objection." With a scarcely restrained chuckle, the cook subsided for a time and then tried again, saying this time, "The Effendi (gentleman)is tired and would be much obliged if you would leave so that he may sleep." This was a different proposition and seemed to meet something of a response. Shortly, one of those present got up and went over into the corner of the room where he spread out his cloak and proceeded to his Moslem devotions. When he was through, another followed him with equal deliberation, and we began to doubt whether we should sleep before morning. At length the last one withdrew and we were left to ourselves, including the attendants and animals mentioned before. We spread our camp bedsteads in the driest part of the room and made ready to sleep. It was not long, however, before the rain began to fall, and very soon the roof began to leak over our heads. We spread rubber coats over ourselves and raised our umbrellas over our heads and tried to see the humor of the situation. At early dawn we were up and packed our goods for a new start. The river had fallen sufficiently in the night topermit our crossing, though with some difficulty. On the farther bank we found a party of people waiting until the stream should subside sufficiently to allow them to cross with their small donkeys.
Every summer it is necessary to make a change from the heat of the plain to the more bracing air of the mountains. This is not a vacation, for the missionary's work goes on with little variation, wherever he may be, but it involves a change of base and the setting up of a simple household in different surroundings. In those earlier years the mountain life was exceedingly simple and the means of transportation most crude. The village of Hadeth is accessible from Tripoli and in a beautiful situation, directly opposite the famous grove of Cedars of Lebanon. It lies on a ridge in the mountains at an elevation of some forty-five hundred feet above the sea. More than one season have we spent in the house of old Abu Maroon, the village carpenter. The house consisted of fourlarge rooms, opening on a long, arched porch which extended the full length of the house. The floors were of dirt and the walls roughly plastered with mud. We rented three of these rooms, the owners occupying the fourth. The partitions between the rooms were made of brushwood, plastered on both sides with mud. These partitions extended only about three fourths of the way to the roof, leaving ample space above for ventilation and conversation. The uncovered twigs and small branches at the top of these partitions made an attractive, artistic feature, very pleasing to many of our visitors. One of the regular household duties in those mountain houses was the renewing of the mud on the floors. Every week or two it was necessary to remove everything from the rooms, spread a fresh coat of watery mud over the floor, and polish it off with a smooth, round stone kept for the purpose. We could then anticipate reasonable freedom from fleas for another period.
The only way to reach a summer resort was on horseback, over very rough bridle paths. All furniture had to be transported by mules in like manner; folding chairs and tables, camping utensils and necessary bedding had to be made into suitable bundles; indispensable supplies had to be provided and mules secured to carry all to the mountains. It was a long, hard day's ride and the party was sure to be pretty tired the first night of arrival, but the renewed vigor in the fresh mountain air gave new strength for the resumption of life on the hotter plain in the fall and it was well worth all the trouble it cost.
When it is possible to secure a week or two for real rest, there is no more delightful way to accomplish the purpose than to make a camp in the cedar grove. This clump of trees lies in a basin in the higher mountains, about six thousand feet above sea level. On the east and north, and somewhat on the south, the mountains rise about this great amphitheater to aboutfour thousand feet more, being the highest mountains anywhere in Syria. Large patches of snow lie perpetually on these highest mountains, but the slopes are bare, having no trees nor shrubs beyond clumps of thorns and scanty grass where the melting snows afford some moisture. Flocks of goats range over these barren slopes, gaining a scanty subsistence. In the days of Solomon and Hiram of Tyre these mountains were probably covered with cedar forests. Nowadays only small sections are so covered, though on many of the bare heights the people still dig up the old stumps of great cedar trees, which they sell for fuel in the cities.
On the entire mountain range there is left no single grove of really ancient cedars, except the one of which I have spoken, known among the people as the "Cedars of the Lord" or simply as "The Cedars." It is impossible to speak with certainty of the age of these great trees, but from what we know of their slow growth and the sizeof many of the trunks, it is safe to place their age in the thousands of years. There are more than four hundred trees in the grove and their reputed sanctity has protected them from destruction. Some forty years ago one of the governors of Mount Lebanon had a wall built inclosing the grove and a guardian appointed. This affords protection from goats, and now a number of small trees are growing up to perpetuate the grove in generations to come. If proper steps were taken for reforesting the whole of Lebanon, there would be a great improvement in many ways, and the agricultural wealth of the country would be greatly increased.
To establish a camp among these grand old trees is a most delightful way to spend a short vacation. The silence of the nights under the spreading branches; the fragrance of the foliage; the soothing sigh of the breeze among the tree tops; the beautiful and ever-changing colors on the higher mountain slopes; the beautiful outlook tothe west over the narrow valley out to the distant Mediterranean; all these influences tend to quiet the tired nerves, refresh the exhausted brain and draw the discouraged heart back to quiet and rest in the hand of the Master.
Late one afternoon as I was sitting in my study, the doorbell rang and a young man from Hamath entered, showing every token of great excitement and fatigue. He had just arrived on the diligence from Homs. As soon as he was sufficiently composed to give me a clear story, he told me that the preacher in Hamath had been suddenly arrested by the local authorities, and after somewhat rough treatment, had been sent under guard to Damascus, a journey of five days on horseback, as it was before the era of railroads. So far as I could learn from my informant, the case was one of flagrant persecution, with no culpable occasion behind it. The first thing to be done was to quiet the excitement of our friend, who had broughtthe word himself rather than trust a written message. Giving him a chance to rest, I made hasty arrangements for a night ride to Beirut. The moon would rise about ten o'clock and I arranged for two riding horses to be ready for us before midnight. We set out together through the olive orchards under the witchery of the moonlight. It would have been a pleasant experience under other circumstances. The road follows the general line of the seashore, at times close to the breaking waves, and again rising on a rocky bluff at whose base the blue sea keeps up an incessant murmur. In the silent night the play of advancing and retreating waves gives a constantly varied effect of light and sound.
Before noon we reached Beirut and consulted with various missionary friends and the consuls of America, England and Germany, who take an interest in matters affecting the Protestants in Turkey. It was decided that our Hamath friend should go at once to Damascus, while I awaitedword from him whether my presence was needed. The following day a telegram agreed upon between us brought the brief message, "Better come." The old French diligence in those days made the trip across Mount Lebanon to Damascus in something over thirteen hours, a rather fatiguing day. On the evening of my arrival we had a conference of the immediate circle of friends, and the arrested man himself was among us. This was a thoroughly characteristic incident, under Turkish administration, and so merits a word of explanation. During the journey from Hamath to Damascus, friendly relations had been established between the prisoner and his escort, so that the latter were willing to accommodate their prisoner in any reasonable measure. It was agreed upon that they should not announce their arrival nor report to their superiors for a few days until the prisoner secured a little rest and made arrangements for his defense. Hence I was informed by our friend himself that he would notarrive in Damascus "officially" for several days.
It is needless to go into all the details of this event but the animating cause of the incident has its humorous as well as its enlightening side. Some time before, our friend had wished to compliment the man who was at the time governor of Hamath. Being of a literary turn he wrote a flattering poem to present on a suitable occasion. Indiscreetly he worked into his poem serious reflections on another man who was the governor's enemy and who held a similar post at a distance. The governor was so pleased that the poem was printed for distribution and a copy reached the hands of the other man, who was naturally not pleased with it. In the subsequent shifting of appointments this very man became governor of Hamath, and found a way to vent his spite at the poet.
When looked at from a safe perspective, most of the so-called persecution in Syria has a predominant touch of humor in it.The most convenient and suitable place for Tripoli missionary families to spend their summers is in the village of Hadeth close to the summer seat of the Maronite patriarch. The whole valley is considered sacred, and hence strongly guarded against the pollution of any heretical evangelical influences. For a number of years the ecclesiastics tried, in every way they could devise, to make us trouble and to prevent our securing houses in the town, or finding any comfort when we did so. During one summer they were especially aggressive and seemed determined to be rid of us. The priests warned everyone against serving us in any way, and against selling us anything to eat. For a few days our servant had to go to a neighboring town to buy supplies. The woman who had been doing our washing sent word she could not come. A special conclave assembled and summoned our landlord, threatening all sorts of vengeance if he did not turn us out. They said that a mob would destroy his houseover our heads. The poor old man came to me in great fear, knowing the unscrupulousness of his opponents, and thinking they might get up some false accusation against him in the government and cast him into prison or subject him to needless loss or expense. I assured him they would not dare touch us or attack his property and that the whole plan was to frighten us into leaving town, if possible. I told him that we were to leave on a certain day in October. When the hostile party learned this, they drew up a pledge that the Americans were to be expelled from town on the day I had indicated, under a forfeit of fifty pounds from the landlord to the local church. He was also required to go to the church and apologize publicly to the people, kiss the floor of the church in front of the picture of the Virgin, and pay a pound into the treasury. He was then accepted as in good and regular standing, and all waited for the appointed day. Unfortunately I did not know of this until it was too lateto change our plans. On the day appointed we left town with our household goods and as we rode away we heard the church bells ringing out a peal of rejoicing to celebrate the cleansing of the town. Times have changed now, and the same priest who led in the opposition then will call upon us and crack jokes about the times gone by.
The period of my life in Syria has witnessed the rapid development of emigration. In former days there was very little travel among the people, the marriage of a girl to a man in a neighboring village being a notable and rather rare occurrence. It was no unusual thing for a person to spend his whole life without ever going so much as ten miles from his birthplace. I was entertained for supper one night at the home of a wealthy Moslem in Homs. The old father of our host was present and I entered into conversation with him as to the experiences of his long life. He told me that he had taken four wives, as permitted by Moslem law. He had twenty sons who had all grown up and married in Homs. He said that hisgrandsons numbered about a hundred, all of whom he knew by face, though he might not be able to fit the right name to each, at first sight. Knowing him to be quite wealthy, I asked whether he had traveled much. My first question was whether he had been to the seashore, some sixty-five miles away at Tripoli. He had never seen the sea. "Have you been to Damascus?" This would appeal more to a devout Moslem, since the sea is always associated more or less with the unholy foreigners of Christian faith, while Damascus is an ancient seat of Moslem power and glory. "No, I have never seen Damascus," was his answer. "Well, surely you have been to Hamath?" This is only thirty miles distant. "No," he said, "I never went to Hamath." "Have you passed your whole life right here in Homs?" "Once," he said, "I made a journey out among the Arabs of the desert, to buy sheep." That was the extent of traveling by an intelligent, well-to-do Moslem of the old school.
Some thirty or forty years ago a change began among the people and a few enterprising men sought more favorable opportunities for making a living in foreign lands. Many of them were successful and encouraged others to follow them, until now the most profitable business of the steamships calling at Syrian ports is the carrying of emigrants back and forth. The weekly exit is numbered by the hundreds, and large numbers also return from time to time. Few of those who return to Syria remain for any length of time, for, having once tasted the liberty and experienced the opportunities of life in western lands, they are no longer content to fall back into the old, slow, unprofitable methods of the Orient. A notable change has also come over the character of the emigration in another respect. At first it was only the more enterprising, vigorous young men who went abroad to seek their fortunes. Now whole families go together. Women and girls emigrate as freely as men. At first it wasonly Christians who sought to improve their condition in Christian lands; now Moslems and Nusairiyeh go as freely as do the Christians.
At first this emigration was a blind flight from poverty and oppressive conditions at home, with little understanding of the places to which the emigrants were going. They placed themselves literally in the hands of the steamship agents in Marseilles. Taking passage from Syria to Marseilles, they were shipped on from there in bunches, according to the advantage of the agent into whose hands they fell. They might be sent to Argentine, while the friends to whom they were going were in Massachusetts. They might be sent to Sierra Leone or to Capetown, but it was all America in their minds. The simple idea of geography in those days seemed to divide the world into two parts, Syria and America. The common people know far better now, for they discuss intelligently the conditions of life and business in the various parts of theworld. Syrians are to be found in every one of the United States, from Maine to Florida, and from the Atlantic to the Pacific. They are in Alaska, the Sandwich Islands and the Philippines. They are in every country of Central and South America, in the West Indies and in all parts of Africa. In many places they have bought property and made permanent business arrangements.
In the early years there were many indications of their lack of experience in money matters and general business methods. One man in Brazil had accumulated quite a sum of money and wished to return home. He did not understand the simplicity of taking a draft on London from the bank, and was averse to parting with good gold for a mere slip of paper. He changed all his money into English sovereigns and put the whole nine hundred into a belt, which he secured around his body under his clothes. He did not dare remove his treasure day or night during the weeks ofjourney, enduring the weight and pressure until he reached home. He was then taken sick and nearly lost his life from kidney trouble induced by this folly.
Another young man in Mexico started home by way of New York. He knew that English and French gold are current in Syria, and was sure that American gold was every bit as good. So he exchanged his money for American gold coin. It came to my attention through a man who came to me with a twenty-dollar gold piece, and asked what it was worth. When I told him its real value, he showed such surprise as to arouse my curiosity. It appeared that this coin, with one like it, had been given as betrothal token for his daughter. Subsequently the engagement was broken by the young man and so, in accordance with oriental custom, the token was forfeited. The father, wishing to realize on the coin, took it to a local goldsmith who pretended to examine it carefully and then offered three dollars for it.The father was disappointed at this appraisal and indignant that his daughter should have been rated so low. The reaction, when he found the coin to be worth nearly seven times as much as he had been informed, was almost too much for him.
One matter connected incidentally with the emigration has been the call for assistance in handling money for those abroad. In the earlier years there were no adequate banking facilities outside of Beirut and so the people began to send back money to their families through the hands of friends who were merchants living in the various seaport towns. In several cases unscrupulous men took advantage of the general ignorance in money matters to secure abnormal profits to themselves, and in more than one instance, through fraudulent bankruptcy, cheated the people out of hundreds of pounds. Those who were in any way connected with the American missionaries began sending their money to us, and at last we were obliged to conductquite an extensive banking business. In some years drafts for several thousand pounds would come to me in sums ranging from two or three pounds to several hundred at a time. These were to be paid out to various relatives or to be held on deposit until the owners' return. On one occasion I opened a registered letter from Brazil and found in it a draft on London for ten pounds. On reading the letter I found it to be written by a man I did not know, in behalf of another stranger, and that the money was to be paid to an entire stranger in a village I had never seen. It was enough for the sender to know that his money was in the hands of an American missionary.
On one occasion a returned emigrant came to my associate with a kerchief full of silver and gold coins. He asked the privilege of depositing this with the mission until he needed it. As it was evidently a considerable sum, he was advised to put it in the bank so as to secure some interest,but he preferred to feel sure that his money was safe, even though it earned nothing. Neither did he see any necessity of waiting until the money should be counted and a regular entry made of it in the books. It was enough that the missionary had charge of it. This open account remained with us a number of years and sometimes amounted to two thousand dollars.
A man sent me from Venezuela a draft for a hundred pounds, charging me to let no one know of it, but to hold the money until he should come. After a long interval I learned that his wife was thinking of going to join him, since no word had been received. I succeeded in dissuading her, as I knew he was planning to come home and they might miss each other in mid-ocean. The return was delayed, and before he arrived his funds in my hands amounted to six or seven hundred pounds.
The volume of emigration is growing every year and is taking away the strength of the land, but better banking facilitieshave relieved us of the financial cares formerly carried. The director of the Ottoman Bank in Tripoli estimates the annual amount of money passing through this one port in drafts from Syrians abroad as not less than seven hundred thousand pounds sterling.
The final aim of mission work is the development of a self-supporting, self-propagating Christian community, and hence the happiest experience of a missionary's life is connected with the first independent undertakings of the people whom he serves. In this connection there are two interesting incidents connected with the life of the evangelical church in Homs. There are men still living who remember when the gates in the old city walls were closed every night at sunset, and a belated traveler had to make himself as safe and comfortable as he could on the outside until sunrise the next morning. When this old custom passed into disuse, the city gradually outgrew the old limits and new sectionsbegan to appear outside the old walls. When I first visited Homs, there was already a large settlement on the north side of the old city, known as the Hamidiyeh in honor of the reigning sovereign Abd-ul-Hamid. In this section of the city were a number of evangelicals and it was most desirable that there should be regular services in that section. Much difficulty was found in renting suitable quarters, and a change was necessary every year or two. At length one of the most prosperous men in the church decided that a permanent chapel must be secured. The people in that part of the city were poor and could not raise money to buy property. He decided to set aside a certain sum, and let it accumulate in his own business until he should have sufficient for the purpose. He did so, and after some years was able to purchase and remodel a house in the Hamidiyeh. That little chapel has been in constant use now for many years for public service on the Sabbath and school duringthe week, and is all the result of the generous thought of this one man.