The Sheikh Ahmed, after having left school, whilst heading his own people, the Druses, during the war in Lebanon, one day suddenly came upon a group of angry villagers, who were about to wreak their vengeance upon an unhappy traveller who had fallen into their hands. The young Sheikh authoritatively interfered and swore by his beard no harm should be done to him. In the traveller, to his astonishment and joy, Sheikh Ahmed identified the Arabic professor of the mission school,—a simple, good man, to whose care and tuition we were all much indebted, and who, having been mistaken for a Maronite, was about falling a victim to mistaken identity. The name of this intelligent and excellent man was Tannoos Haddad, who had been converted to Christianity by the American missionaries, and has since been ordained, and is now assisting in the spread of the Gospel among his benighted countrymen. The head of the school at that time was Mr. Hubbard, who a few years after died at Malta, and many a young man now in Syria gratefully recalls his memory as having been the means of their education and advancement both in temporal and spiritual knowledge.
At present, the following is a list of the missionaries at Beyrout:—Rev. Eli Smith, D.D.; Rev. B. Whiting; H. A. D. Forest, M.D.; Mr. Hurtes, superintendent of the printing department; Buttros Bistani, and Elias Fowas, native helpers. No one has ever replaced the late Mr. Winbolt, the much esteemed and regretted chaplain of Beyrout; and the Americans are about to remove to the mountains. Lord help the souls of the forty thousand inhabitants now living there, and put it in the hearts of the English people to establish schools and hospitals in this most promising field for missionary labour.
Beyrout was, at the period of which I am now writing, under the Egyptian government, and the whole place was overrun by fierce Albanian soldiers and recruits, who were the terror of society. Many are the instances on record of the outrages committed by these men; but their treatment of the esteemed Mr. Bird, an American missionary, was perhaps the most glaring instance of unprovoked atrocity.
Mr. Bird had a country-house in the environs of Beyrout, not far from where some of the troops were encamped. This house was surrounded by a large fruit-garden, and the produce was continually stolen and recklessly wasted; for which, however, there appears to have been no remedy. On one occasion, Mr. Bird’s native servant, seeing some soldiers pilfering from a fig-tree, threw a stone, which unfortunately took effect and slightly wounded one of them in the head. Hearing the uproar that ensued, and learning the cause from his servant, Mr. B--- immediately ran out with a few necessaries in his hands to examine and dress the wound. He was thus charitably occupied when a number of the man’s comrades who had been attracted by the noise, arrived upon the spot, and presuming it to be Mr. Bird who had wounded the man, made a ruffianly assault on that unoffending person, buffeted and bound him; and finally carried their cruel vengeance to such an extent, that they actually crucified him on a sycamore-tree, using cords in lieu of nails, but in every other respect blasphemously imitating the position of the figure upon the cross, as seen by them often in pictures and on crucifixes. Here, spit upon, slapped, and derided, Mr. Bird was left for some time suffering intense agony, both of mind and body, for the hot afternoon sun shone fiercely upon him, and the sharp stings of the
sand-flies drove him almost to distraction; happily the servant had made his escape into the town, and flown to the residence of the consul. So flagrant an offence naturally excited the anger of all the Europeans in Beyrout; and consuls of every nation, accompanied by their retinue, all armed to the teeth, rode forth to the rescue. On seeing so large a cavalcade advance, the troops beat to arms; and affairs now assumed a most menacing attitude on both sides. A council was held among the Europeans; and it was speedily determined that a deputation should dismount and proceed on foot to the tent of the officer commanding the troops. This was according done; and the Pasha, having listened to the complaint, summoned the offenders into his presence, meanwhile issuing orders that Mr. Bird should be instantly released and brought before him, that he might speak for himself. The soldiers endeavoured to vindicate themselves, by asserting that the Franks had murdered a true believer of the prophet; and in proof of what they asserted, they had actually the audacity and folly to cause the wounded man to be carried on a few planks, hastily knocked together, and set down on the ground a few paces distant from the Pasha’s tent, where the impudent fellow so well maintained the rigidity of limb and face, that he really had much the appearance of a cold stiff corpse. The Pasha’s doctor (a European), however, was close at hand; and this officer was ordered to see whether the man was really dead or in a dying condition. The doctor, who was an acute man, soon saw how matters stood; and producing from his coat pocket a bottle of sal volatile, he dexterously applied it to the nose of the prostrate soldier, and with such good effect, that the man started up as though he had received an electric shock, and was seized with
such a violent fit of sneezing, that, notwithstanding the serious position of both parties, it was found impossible to resist a simultaneous burst of laughter. The Pasha was too much enraged to join in this hilarity, which he speedily checked, by thundering out to his attendants to seize upon the ringleaders in this disgraceful riot, and have them hung on the same tree upon which Mr. Bird had been exposed—a threat that would doubtless have been put into immediate execution, but for the strenuous interference of good Mr. Bird, who, though still smarting from the severity of his treatment, was far too good a Christian to allow his enemies to be punished. He tried hard to beg them off altogether; but this the Pasha would not listen to, so the Europeans returned home to be out of hearing of the cries of the wretches as they underwent the severest bastinadoing ever inflicted, where flogging stops short of life.
This account will appear a perfect fable to those who only know Beyrout in its present civilised state; and vast indeed must have been the change for the better, when ladies and children can wander about the place, singly and unprotected, at all hours of the day, and even, I may venture to assert, throughout the night.
Since the expulsion of the Egyptians, in 1840–1, Beyrout has rapidly risen into considerable importance; and it may now be considered the chief entrepôt of Syrian commerce. At that period there were barely three or four European families established; and an English vessel only occasionally touched at the port; now, merchants, artizans, and shopkeepers, from all parts of Europe have flocked into the town; and scarcely a week passes by without three or more vessels arriving in the roads from different ports of Europe. The roadstead presents a gay appearance on Sunday, when
all the different vessels display the ensigns of their respective nations, and corresponding flags are hoisted from the tops of the consulates on shore. English, French, Sardinian, Austrian, American, Portuguese, Spanish, Dutch, Danish, Norwegian, and Swedish ships are daily arriving at, or sailing out of the port, bringing manufactures from Manchester, colonial produce from London, sugar from Hamburg, assorted cargoes from France and Italy, and numberless requisites and necessaries from other parts of the world; whilst they export from Beyrout, silk reeled in the many factories situated in the immediate neighbourhood and on Lebanon, grain from the interior, raw silk, of which some portion is contributed from my native village, and lately an enterprising American has carried off ship-loads of our Beyrout and Syrian olive oil, timber, nuts, and specimens of dried and preserved fruits. The population is rapidly increasing, the wealth augmenting, new firms are being established, fresh channels of commerce discovered, houses being built, gardens enclosed, grounds purchased and planted, till the once quiet, secluded, and almost desolate-looking Beyrout, many of whose decayed and dilapidated ruins crumbled into dust under the severe shocks of the great earthquake of 1821, has been rapidly metamorphosed into a pleasant and flourishing town, replete with handsome buildings and luxuriant gardens, presenting, as viewed from the sea, one of the handsomest marine pictures possible for the pencil of the painter to depict, or the lay of the poet to celebrate.
Please God, I hope yet to see the day when much loved Beyrout shall rival and surpass in every sense Smyrna, and even Stamboul. I often hear people in England talking about the beautiful azure skies of sunny Italy, and sighing for her shores; but I doubt