PERSECUTION
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 brought the 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 awaited
word 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 not
arrive 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 house over 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
late to 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.