I repeat that all goods manufactured in Damascus are made by hand, machinery being unknown. Probably three-fourths of the people here never saw or heard of a daily newspaper. They know nothing of the outside world. They never learn anything, never invent anything. They repudiate and scorn anything that is new. They regard an invention as an offspring of the devil. A Christian they hate as they do a serpent. Ignorance is the most prevalent thing in Damascus. It walks the streets; it sits in the shops; it drives camels; it stares the traveler in the face, go where he will. Here, too, as elsewhere, ignorance has borne her legitimate fruit—superstition and fanaticism. The people are, I believe, as fanatical as the devil wants them to be. Only a few years ago, their fanaticism arose to such a pitch that they, without the slightest provocation, pounced upon, and killed, five thousand Christians in the streets of Damascus! Men, women and children were butchered indiscriminately like sheep. Their mangled bodies were piled up in the streets, and scattered through the city, for days and days. The Mohammedans would not defile their pure (?) hands by putting them on “Christian dogs”—they had killed them—that was enough. From Damascus the thirst for blood spread throughout all Syria, and no less than 14,000 Christians perished.
One would naturally suppose that the government would protect life better than that. But the Pasha, or governor, of Syria was the man who gave the signal for the massacre to begin. And it continued until the French government interfered. Napoleon III, whom the world is so fond of condemning, dispatched a body of ten thousand well-armed troops here to stop that human butchery. The Pasha and other officials were arrested and beheaded in the city. The French soldiers, following the custom of the old Romans, constructed a military road from Beyrout to Damascus. This road, which is still in good repair, is the only guarantee of safety Christians now have among these heathen people.
My guide in Damascus is named Abraham. I have not met Isaac and Jacob, but have become somewhat intimate with Abraham. He tells me that his father and mother were victims of that horrible massacre; that when killed, their blood and brains spattered upon him; that his escape was little less than miraculous; that he, with a number of other Christians, was shut up in the citadel for three days; that for three days and nights the Mohammedans stood there with their battering rams, thundering against the walls and gates of the citadel, which were just ready to totter and fall when the French army came up and put a stop to the whole inhuman business.
Several persons who were eye-witnesses to the whole scene have given me a full and detailed account of the massacre. Mohammedans from their beginning may be tracked through history by a trail of blood. They seem to have a thirst that nothing but human gore will satiate. This massacre of Damascus is their last and crowning act. It is worthy of their bloody history. They destroyed “even till destruction sickened.” I have just read a history of this fearful slaughter which closes with this sentence: “Unfortunately, since the massacre matters have improved but little.” I dare not walk the streets of Damascus to-day with a Bible in hand, and let the people know what book it is. I would be in danger of being brained before reaching the post-office.
The guide-book warns us not to look at the women. This goes hard with Johnson. I regret it on his account. There is a custom in this country, which practically amounts to a law, that the women shall keep their faces vailed. Yesterday, while walking up a narrow and gloomy-looking alley, we saw a woman coming towards us. Touching me in the side with his elbow, Johnson said: “Whittle, I am going to look at her a little, anyhow.” When we met the woman, she piteously cried: “Howazhu, howazhu, bachsheesh, bachsheesh,” which being interpreted means, “O, gentlemen, gentlemen, money, money.” Johnson responded: “Lift your vail, then.” When the ill-favored female drew her vail aside, Johnson gave her three piasters (about nine cents) and immediately said: “Put down your vail quickly, and I will give you three more.” I was sorry for my traveling companion. He looked disappointed. He said that the reason the women had to keep their faces covered was, that they were so ugly that to expose them would subject men to sore eyes—if not to blindness.
The early religious history of Damascus is of peculiar interest to all Christians. A great persecution arose against the Christians in Jerusalem. Saul of Tarsus made havoc of the church; entering into every house, and, haling men and women, committed them to prison, breathing out threatenings and slaughter against the disciples of the Lord. He obtained letters from the Jewish authorities, authorizing him to arrest and carry to Jerusalem all Christians whom he might find in Damascus.
As he journeyed, he came near Damascus, and suddenly there shined round about him a light from Heaven, and he fell to the earth. When Saul asked of the Lord, “What wilt thou have me to do?” the Lord said unto him, “Arise, and go into the city, and it shall be told thee what thou must do.” Saul rose from the earth and they brought him into Damascus, and he stopped with Judas, who lived on the street that is called Straight. The Lord directed Ananias to go to Saul, and instruct him what to do. The scales fell from Saul’s eyes, and he arose and was baptized; and straightway he preached Christ, that he was the Son of God. This created a great disturbance in Damascus, and the Jews held a mass meeting and decided to kill Saul. For this purpose the Jews watched the gates of the city day and night. In order to save his life, the disciples took Saul by night and let him down by the wall in a basket.
