For John Wortabet, Smith was at once a teacher, mentor, and friend. Between 1848 and 1856, they corresponded regularly. Besides the usual reports on work, Wortabet's letters also contained personal notes about the families of both men. Wortabet, who always signed his letters "your obedient Servant," was grateful for the productive exchange with the experienced missionary: "I beg to express my sincere thanks for all your kind wishes and interest in me. It is a great consolation, as it is a blessing for me to think that I enjoy an interest in the prayers of such men as yourself; and I hope that I may still continue to enjoy the same."258

According to Henry Harris Jessup, a classic Arabic letter consisted of three parts:

[A] long, flowery, poetical introduction covering one-third of the page, a similar conclusion covering the last third, and a brief letter in the middle. Important business, however, was written in a postscript diagonally across the right hand bottom of the page, and this was the part generally read by the receiver.259

Long letters with little content, as well as diagonally written notes, can be found in Smith's collected letters. Smith, too, occasionally adopted a flowery, somewhat

circuitous means of expression, similar to letters written by Mishaqa, Bustani, or Yanni. There were many similarities in the salutations and closings used by Smith and his correspondents. Smith usually began a letter with "*Janāb al-akh al-ajl almuḥtaram*" (Very esteemed, dear brother) or "*Janāb al-muḥib al-āʿz al-muḥtaram*" (Very esteemed, dear friend). Mishaqa likewise began with "*Janāb sayyidī almuḥtaram* (Very honored sir). Then Smith continued with further words of greeting: "*Nuḥib taqdīm kathrat al-ashwāq al-qalbīyya aʿruḍ innahu* …" (We would like to send many warm greetings [and] I inform [you] that …). Mishaqa, in turn, wrote: "*Nuḥib hadā wājibāt al-ikrām wa jazīl al-shauq al-wāfir* … *aʿruḍ annī* …" (We would like to convey [our] respect and many warm greetings … I inform [you] that …). The words that Smith and Mishaqa used to close their letters were similar as well: While Smith wrote "*Wa aṭāl Allah baqākum*" (May God grant you a long life), Mishaqa wrote "*Wa dāma baqākum*" (May [HE] allow your life to be long).260 Although Smith's Arabic – at least in his letter drafts – was not error-free, he made an effort to adopt typical phrasings and to show that he was an engaged and interested correspondent. Without question, his collected letters are an exceptional testament of transcultural understanding.

#### 10. Final observations

Where are the fingers that created such original work, flying [across the paper] with ink and [writing] truth and wisdom?

Where is the tongue that was familiar to us yesterday as a sweet spring, telling us everything we wanted to hear?

Where is that heart, illuminating us like a star that shines in the darkness?

Where is your great zeal, like that of an army when it fights?

Who else stood with wisdom like yours! Whose discoveries can we rely on now?

Whom can we trust with such heavy load, and who will solve such complicated problems?261

Sheikh Nasif al-Yaziji – poet, language scholar, and former helper at the mission press – wrote this eulogy after Eli Smith's death in January 1857. I have shown here how Smith became a mentor, advisor, and friend to many. This was especially true for his Syrian colleagues at the mission, Butrus al-Bustani and John Wortabet, as will be seen in chapter III. Smith believed that they were the best translators, indispensable to the mission.262 Smith saw them as able candidates for native pastors, and he urged them to complete their theological training so that they could be ordained.263 Despite the friendly letters that Bustani and Wortabet exchanged with

260 Smith to Mishaqa (Beirut, March 14, 1853; April 25, 1853; November 11, 1853); Mishaqa to Smith (June 3, 1853): ABC 50, Box 1 (HHL).

Smith, they differed in their theological understanding of the relationship between missionary and native pastor. Smith hoped that the mission would soon ordain a native pastor, but he also did not want to do away with the highly valuable engagement of American missionaries, as he wrote to Anderson in 1851:

When it has been contended that we should give up our pulpit to a native pastor, and be hearers ourselves, lest if we continue to preach, he in contrast, will not be sufficiently respected to attract an audience, I have objected; because if we, in consequence of our training in a Christian land, and of our careful theological education, are able to preach better than these, at the best, very imperfectly trained preachers, I do not think it right to have our mouths closed in order to carry out a theory.264

Despite Smith's piety and his conformity with the theological fathers of the ABCFM, his missionary career was not without contradictions. In 1832, he preached to an American audience:

You go not to study ancient Greece and Palestine, nor present workings of human nature, any farther than you will ever have an occasional regard to the one for the illustration of Scripture, and will find an understanding of the other an essential help to your missionary success.265

Nevertheless, in subsequent decades Smith's own studies extended well beyond what was necessary to proclaim Holy Scripture. Smith seemed torn. On his deathbed, he was overcome with guilt because of the many interests he had pursued outside the mission. Not without reason, the editors of the *Missionary Herald* added these words of self-criticism to Smith's obituary: "He had tried, he said, to serve Christ, and had labored long and hard, but his motives, he now felt, had been too often unworthy and selfish."266

Smith's former colleague William Goodell, who had moved on to the ABCFM's Armenian mission, expressed his admiration for the knowledge of languages that Smith had acquired through hard work. Goodell also emphasized that Smith's desire to dedicate the same attention to mission work and geographical studies was a constant balancing act: "Sometimes, too, the circumstances of a mission may be such, that is, the religious interest may be so great, and the field so wide, that the translator must at once shut up his books, and go out to help gather the harvest."267

One can rightfully assert that Smith played an important role in Syria's cultural awakening of the nineteenth century.268 The development of American Arabic Type, his work on a variety of Arabic books for the press, and his responsibility for the first Arabic mission journal influenced generations of Syrians. In 1856, he wrote

to the DMG about a volume of poetry by Nasif al-Yaziji that had been published by the American Mission Press (and financed by a private businessman): "Aside from the book's value in and of itself, this attempt to create a new national literature certainly deserves all possible recognition and support."269 Moreover, it should not be forgotten that Smith always saw education and progress within the context of Christian "civilization"; cultural awakening could lead to religious enlightenment. Already in 1829, when he advocated for the production of schoolbooks within the Syria Mission, he argued that subjects like geography and history expanded the mind, training young people "to think for themselves on the subject of religion."270

In light of his contributions to nineteenth-century Oriental studies, and the scholarly network that he encouraged between Syria, Europe, and the United States, Smith can in fact be viewed as the "first true Orientalist."271 As later paraphrased by Ussama Makdisi, in 1850 Eli Smith wrote in the *New York Morning Herald* that "'the Arab race is my favorite': they had literature and poetry, 'the soul of sublimity,' a record of achievement in science, mathematics, philosophy, and history, and an Arabic language that made English sink 'into insignificance before its beauty and force.'"272

In 1843/44, when the future of the Syria Mission was in doubt, the extent of Smith's identification with his work became apparent. If necessary, he was ready to continue the fight alone: "Abandon Syria! It is a thing I had never dreamed of. Not a single missionary principle I have ever adopted could favor such a step. … NEVER! … Here may my last days be spent. If others will hold on with me, well; if not, let me wear out alone."273

# II.2. "[HE] HAD ARABIC AT HIS TONGUE'S AND FINGERS' ENDS"274: CORNELIUS VAN DYCK (1818–1895)275

#### 1. Biographical overview

Cornelius Van Alan Van Dyck, the son of Dutch immigrants, was born in Kinderhook, New York on August 13, 1818. He studied medicine at Jefferson College in Philadelphia, and he taught chemistry at a girls' school when he was just eighteen years old.276 Sent by the Dutch Reformed Church on behalf of the ABCFM, he and

other new missionaries arrived in Syria on April 1, 1840.277 He initially served as a mission doctor, completing his theological training with his missionary colleagues. He was ordained in ʿAbeih on January 14, 1846.278 He later received a doctorate in theology,279 a doctorate in literature,280 a bachelor's degree in law, as well as an honorary doctorate in humanities.281 Van Dyck made a name for himself in Syria in many different fields of activity. Between 1846 and 1850, he directed the mission seminary in ʿAbeih and worked on numerous textbooks in Arabic. Together with William M. Thomson and John Wortabet, he established Protestant congregations in Sidon, Hasbeiya, and the surrounding area. He continued the Bible translation after Eli Smith's death, finally completing it in 1865. He directed the American Mission Press for many years, saving it from closure. Between 1866 and 1883, he taught medicine and astronomy at the Syrian Protestant College. In addition to this work, for decades he was a practicing medical doctor, scholar, author, and translator.

In 1842 Van Dyck married Julia Abbot, the daughter of deceased English consul, and they had six children.282 He passed away at the age of seventy-seven, from heavy intestinal bleeding caused by typhus, on November 13, 1895.283 Hundreds accompanied the funeral procession of the best known American missionary in Syria. (Figure 5)

# 2. "Our policy has been a contracting not an extending policy"284: Van Dyck and the Syria Mission

Cornelius Van Dyck arrived in Syria in 1840, when he was just twenty-one years old. He and Henry De Forest, who arrived in 1842, were to serve as mission doctors in order to address the great need for medical care, both within and outside the

*Figure 5: Rev. Cornelius Van Dyck, M. D., D. D., LH. D.*

mission.285 "American medicine at the time was hardly 'scientific'; doctors still bled patients for all manner of ailments so that the American doctor had little edge over the native practitioner," writes historian robert l. daniel. 286 Van Dyck was an average doctor; he had not studied theology, nor was he fluent in Arabic. This would all change soon.

Van Dyck's first months in Syria, however, were extraordinarily difficult and hardly seemed promising. After only a short time, he complained to Rufus Anderson that he was completely overworked. Patients came to see him day and night, and his own health was worsening steadily. As a mission doctor, he reported extensively on the ailments of his colleagues, which were physical as well as mental. It is evident that the Americans suffered not only from the change in climate, but also from exhaustion due to overwork. Anderson had little empathy. Already in 1841,

285 Murre-van den Berg identifies this as a trend towards secularization in the Middle East missions. Providing medical treatment, which also brought Muslims into contact with the mission, "required a different type of missionary, a woman or man who had been educated as a doctor or teacher, not as minister or evangelist." See the introduction to *New Faith in Ancient Lands*, 8.

286 Daniel, "American Influences in the Near East before 1860," 82.

Van Dyck requested permission to travel back to the United States in order to have a urethral stricture properly treated.287 The Prudential Committee turned down his request. Because Van Dyck sent few letters to Boston during his first years in Syria, he hardly appeared in the *Missionary Herald*, 288 and Anderson repeatedly reminded the young missionary to write more regularly and report on his work.289 Van Dyck explained: "It has been no want of respect, which has influenced me, nor has it been indolence; but simply an unwillingness on my part to inflict upon others an illegible scroll of trite expressions, or information, previously communicated by others."290 However, Van Dyck was not the only missionary who rarely fulfilled his reporting duties. When Anderson returned from his trip to the Levant in 1844, he wrote to the entire Syria Mission: "If you will have the churches take a deep interest in your mission you must take pains to write frequently and with care, for publication. There is no use in reasoning against this necessity, and a wise man will not attempt it."291

Since the mission needed every person to participate in the work of evangelism, the American Board recommended that the mission doctors Van Dyck and De Forest complete additional theological studies, so that they could also work as preachers.292 It had, in fact, been the wish of Van Dyck's father, a country doctor, that his son become a pastor. However, a young Van Dyck had had other plans and decided to study medicine.293 Syria offered him a second chance, and he started anew with theological study. The decision to be ordained did not come easy. One year before his ordination, he wrote to Anderson: "At present my whole heart is drawn towards the sacred office. But the required qualifications, the responsibilities, the magnitude of work are points which make me hesitate."294 His will to share the message of Jesus Christ was ultimately stronger than his doubts about meeting the demands of this office. Van Dyck's doubts were not unfounded. The demands on him as a doctor and a cleric were so high that he repeatedly fell ill.295

With the opening of the mission seminary in ʿAbeih,296 Van Dyck discovered his passion for teaching. He had already taught chemistry at a girls' school in the United States. Now he became the director of an entire seminary, organizing the curriculum together with Butrus al-Bustani, who had been a close friend since

1841. Bustani instructed the students in arithmetic, Arabic grammar, and vocabulary ("necessary on account of the scarcity of dictionaries in the language"),297 and Van Dyck taught geography and Bible studies. As already mentioned, at first the mission did not have its own textbooks, except for a single book on Arabic grammar. Textbooks were compiled over the course of instruction, which meant that presenting the material often took twice as long. The instructors themselves had to study a great deal, "to ensure the necessary accuracy in thus composing text books for [the] future."298 During this period Van Dyck worked on schoolbooks in geography, algebra, geometry, logarithms, trigonometry, and natural philosophy. Jessup later recalled:

His geography of Turkey, Asia Minor, Syria and Palestine, is a thesaurus of graphic description, and full of apt quotations in poetry and prose from the old Arab geographers and travellers. The people delight in it and quote it with admiration. I found it to be one of the best possible reading books in acquiring a knowledge of the Arabic vocabulary.299

Van Dyck's colleague Simeon H. Calhoun officially became the seminary's director in 1849, although Van Dyck did not want to give up teaching. Several of his colleagues likewise opposed the American Board's decision to send the missionary and doctor to Hasbeiya or Damascus, so that he might help to build new stations there. Van Dyck was concerned about Calhoun's ability to continue the courses at the same level. He had, after all, taught the entire first two years of students, even designing the textbooks himself. According to Van Dyck, Calhoun did not know the correct terminology, nor did he possess the knowledge for an entire year of instruction.300 In the seminary's first four years, its reputation had become intertwined with Van Dyck's name; Syrians near ʿAbeih saw this as a guarantee for quality and a good education. Van Dyck was well aware of this, and he argued that Calhoun ought to make a name for himself first, before assuming the seminary's leadership. The talented mission doctor had spent ten years in Syria; he was self-confident and sure of his abilities. Van Dyck knew that he could not stay at the seminary forever, but with respect to the mission's current strategy that was set by the American Board, he stated: "Under the present system I am unwilling to go to Damascus, Hasbeiya or any where else either permanently or temporarily. Under a free system (you will not misunderstand the expression) I am ready to go where it shall be thought best."301

The "free system" that Van Dyck mentioned concerned the mission's relationship with native converts and newly founded congregations, as explained in chapter I, section 1.3. The problem lay, in part, with the missionaries' overly strict standards for testing the piety of applicants for the Protestant church. In addition, there was the view that congregations still dependent on the Americans' financial assistance should be subject to the mission's unlimited control. In a letter marked "private"

297 Van Dyck to Anderson (ʿAbeih, November 9, 1846): ABC 16.8.1., Vol. 5 (315).

298 Ibid.

299 Jessup, *Fifty-Three Years in Syria*, vol. 1, 107. There is more on the geography book (*Kitab al-Mirʾat al-Wadiyya fi l-Kurat al-Ardiyya*, first edition in 1852) in appendix I.

300 Van Dyck to Anderson (ʿAbeih, August 17, 1850): ABC 16.8.1., Vol. 5 (320).

301 Ibid.

from August 17, 1850, Van Dyck spoke candidly about his opinions, which differed substantially from those of other colleagues. It was not Anderson who demanded the strict relationship with native Protestants and congregations. Rather, he consistently advocated for filling churches and ordaining native pastors. Many other missionaries, however, harbored doubts about the applicants' spirituality. Van Dyck responded that the lack of confidence in the new converts was unfounded: "there is no want of confidence."302 Clearly, evidence of sufficient piety was a necessary condition for membership in the Protestant church. The native Protestants agreed, but they also believed that the standards for this evidence had to be set in a different way. Approaches to faith were different from culture to culture. Van Dyck agreed: "Again we (the missionaries) are foreigners – our support, our connections, our friends, our ideas and ways of thinking, our education …, are foreign – we are not the men to set our judgement upon this people. … [A] certain religious experience to which we have been accustomed" should not be demanded from the Syrians in the same way.303 The apparently insufficient piety worried many missionaries that placing greater responsibility in the hands of Syrian Protestants might lead to their independence too quickly. The missionaries preferred to err on the side of caution, maintaining the close connection between church and mission. By 1848, these circumstances had depleted the pool of potential candidates for the position of native pastor. Bustani, Wortabet, and others took issue with the restrictions on their freedom. Native helpers grew discouraged, believing that the mission would turn them down for higher positions or even dismiss them. Instead of growing, the congregations lost members. Instead of native pastors, the congregations continued to be led by American missionaries. Van Dyck's assessment was frank: "Our policy has been a contracting not an extending policy, we cut off native helpers here and there, and pray that the Lord would raise up laborers into the harvest."304

Anderson had not precisely defined the standards by which a "credible profession of piety" could be measured. His missionaries in Syria tended towards overzealousness, since in 1844 Anderson had unmistakably explained to them that "the Mission could not be maintained a year, if it were known that they received persons to the ordinances on other grounds than a credible profession of faith."305 Another event seems only to have strengthened some of the missionaries' resolve. During Anderson's visit to the Levant in 1843/44, the tactics of the mission were debated at length, including a particular case from 1839. The missionaries Thomson, Hebard, and Lanneau had decided to baptize a group of Druzes who saw themselves as converts, without having received evidence of their piety. Unlike Anderson and his travel companion Dr. Hawes, as well as the missionaries Whiting, De Forest, and

302 Ibid.

303 Ibid.

304 Ibid.

305 Anderson to the Syria Mission (On board the Turkish steamer, April 23, 1844): ABC 16.8.1., Vol. 8. Anderson's concerns were grounded in part on the reports of Samuel Wolcott, who was stationed in Syria between 1840 and 1843. Wolcott's observations of the members of the mission church were almost entirely negative; few were pious or demonstrated a particularly noble character. See Wolcott to Anderson (Beirut, June 1, 1842): ABC 16.5., Vol. 3.

Smith ("He fears the effect of introducing men who are not pious"),306 Van Dyck took Thomson's side, arguing that rejecting the group would completely disillusion the converts. They had left their community of faith, and if they were rejected by the missionaries, they would have no religion. The mission doctor argued that they should be accepted into the mission church, under the condition that they would receive further instruction in Protestant teachings.307 Van Dyck and Thomson advocated for the individual evaluation of each convert, since general rules did not always apply to the specific circumstances of a given case. For Anderson, this went too far. In the official record of the discussions, Anderson added the following comment in parentheses to Van Dyck's words:

[He appears to favor the administering (of) the ordinances to men before they give good evidence of piety. He would have a much lower degree of evidence, and would make baptism a means of bringing men out, and making nominal Christians. He would administer the ordinance of baptism to those who declare their belief in Christianity, and so become the means of making them disciples and bringing them under instruction.]308

In Anderson's opinion, the Eastern Christians had a highly dangerous view of baptism, "as they believe in its regenerative power, and it will never be proper for us to yield to this error or countenance it in any way."309 Syria did not need more nominal Christians, particularly ones who called themselves Protestants. When Anderson departed in 1844, he was convinced that all differences of opinion had been resolved.310 Nevertheless, the missionaries in Syria continued to take a conservative approach towards the demonstration of piety in the years to come. The ABCFM secretary saw that his plan for independent native Protestant congregations in Syria was in danger.311 As already mentioned, Van Dyck warned that the mission's approach would result in the loss of congregation members and pastoral candidates. Anderson reiterated his views to the mission, as in this personal letter to Van Dyck:

It seems to me that we must run risks. … We must run risks in admitting native converts into the church – in ordaining them as ministers, and as pastors – in setting them up as organized and recognised Christian churches, with places of worship and a stated native ministry.312

Anderson's words seemed to have some effect. The mission concentrated its hopes in John Wortabet, who was ordained as an evangelist in 1853.313 In 1851, Van Dyck

was ready to be transferred. After plans to establish a permanent station in Damascus fell through,314 he was stationed in Hasbeiya (and lived in Sidon), along with his father-in-law and colleague William M. Thomson315 and family. Wortabet assisted them both, concentrating particularly on building the congregation in Hasbeiya.

Van Dyck's contentment with work in Sidon and the surrounding area seemed to last for only a short time. In 1851, a general letter from Anderson to the Syria Mission informed Van Dyck and Thomson that the Prudential Committee was considering lowering their pay because there would be fewer expenses in Sidon. Van Dyck's income would be reduced from \$1050 to \$850 per year,316 and then to \$700 per year a few months later.317 Van Dyck was insulted. To begin, Anderson had announced these plans in an impersonal letter to all the missionaries. In addition, Van Dyck accused Anderson and the Prudential Committee of a lack of trust:

Do you suppose that, after a years residence in Sidon, if I had found that my family could be comfortably supported on \$600 or \$700 I would still asked [*sic*] for \$850? I cannot believe that there is a missionary in the service of the Board in whom you have so little confidence.318

Because this would not be enough to support his family, he asked the Prudential Committee to give him sufficient notice before such steps were taken, so that he could make the necessary preparations and possibly take on an additional job.319

Van Dyck had to leave Sidon in 1857, in order to continue the Bible translation in Beirut. He would have liked to work from Sidon, but this was not possible. William Eddy, who succeeded Van Dyck and Thomson in Sidon, had difficulty building a relationship with the people of Sidon because they had held Van Dyck in such high esteem.320 The missionary and doctor regretted leaving his post in the south of Syria, although he understand the importance of his coming assignment in Beirut, and that he alone could continue the translation work: "I have left a pleasant residence, an interesting field, a delightful work, for the whirl of the multitude, the case hardened and the dusty roads and lanes of Beirut. Neither personally nor as regards

my family am I pleased with the change."321 As the cultural center of Syria, Beirut would, however, provide him with the opportunity to develop his talents further and become more than a mission doctor.

Among Van Dyck's new responsibilities was the directorship of the American Mission Press. It was now up to him to fight for the continued existence of the press, which the American Board was seeking to close. Only the ongoing Bible translation, as already described, could justify keeping the press open for the next several years. Even Van Dyck recognized the hopelessness of the situation, writing in 1857: "I hope the time is not far distant when we shall be able to dispose of the whole printing establishment and have all our work of this kind done outside the Mission."322 At first he argued against moving the press to the mountains, as the ABCFM planned. "The press is at present and for years has been, the only hold we have upon Beirut."323 It was the only means of distinguishing the American missions from others like it.324 Nevertheless, Anderson and the Prudential Committee did not change their minds. Financial support for the press had been greatly reduced, with a large portion of printing costs now covered by the European and American Bible societies.325 The missionaries were running out of books. Orders came in from throughout Syria and abroad; textbooks in grammar, geography, and reading were continually sold out.326 Moreover, the new Bible translation could be printed only after the procurement of a new printing press, since the old one now produced so many mistakes.327 There was no end to Van Dyck's requests and desperate questions ("What shall we do?").328 His desperation turned into truculence: "Cut down! – Cut down!" This is how he portrayed the board's demands to reduce the work of the press. Without approval, the press was not allowed to use the money earned from book sales for printing new books. In 1864, Van Dyck cynically asked who would even notice if the money were just to be spent on urgently needed books. He added: "Will the P[rudential] C[ommittee] give the permission asked and allow us to print one Hymn Book with clear consciences; or shall we have to do it without such permission and guilt our consciences as we best can?"329 Van Dyck could no longer understand the methods of the ABCFM. Missionizing and educational

work on site could not continue without books on theology, Bibles, and hymnals. Van Dyck presciently recognized that the Americans' accomplishments in printing would outlast all other efforts of the Syria Mission:330 "By the end of another quarter of a century, the only means the American Board will have for impressing the then living and the future generations of the Arabic speaking races will be the Christian literature which it has been and shall be the means of producing."331

Completion of the Bible translation provided Van Dyck with an opportunity to return to the United States between 1865 and 1867, and also to gain some distance from the Syria Mission and its problems. While he supervised the preparation of metal plates for the Arabic Bible in New York, he accepted a part-time teaching position in Hebrew at Union Theological Seminary in New York. He also brought his medical knowledge up to date, and he earned a doctorate in theology at Rutgers College in New Jersey.332 Van Dyck made an outstanding impression at Union Theological Seminary, where he was offered a professorship. After two years away from Syria, however, his choice for the future was clear: "I have left my heart in Syria and thither I must return."333 In Syria, there had been concerns for some time that Van Dyck would remain in the United States. In 1866, the missionaries wrote to Van Dyck that the weakened state of the mission and the depressing situation made his presence in Syria indispensable.334

When Van Dyck finally returned in 1867, new disagreements with the leadership of the ABCFM had emerged. The missionary society wanted to "re-Americanize" (as Van Dyck called it) the girls' boarding school that was directed by Mikhaʾil ʿAraman.335 The native school's leadership and faculty were Syrian, and it was financially independent, but in 1867 it faced both financial and personnel problems. The American Board proposed to support the school and provide American teachers. Van Dyck countered:

Then it's to come back an Americanized school – supported in large part at least by the Board? … I call it a failure, and I'd rather shut up or give the building to the Syrian Protestant College than to try to make an Americanized female boarding school of it. … If we can do anything towards making them support their own institutions let us do it.336

American leadership was no guarantee of success, Van Dyck continued. After all, the girls' boarding school directed by De Forest was forced to close in 1854. The ABCFM was prepared to compromise. Additional donations from the United States and from tourists travelling through Syria would allow the school to maintain its

independence. A few European or American teachers would round out the native faculty, but Arabic would remain the language of instruction. After many years of independence, the girls' school was later given over to the care of the Presbyterian Women's Board of Missions.337

Van Dyck presumably welcomed the new professional opportunities at the Syrian Protestant College, where since the end of 1867 he had worked together with John Wortabet to establish a medical department. In 1867, Van Dyck discussed his additional income from the college338 with Nathaniel Clark, who had become the new ABCFM secretary in 1866. Nevertheless, in 1869 Van Dyck was again accused of receiving too much income from the SPC. He announced that if his already low pay from the ABCFM were reduced further, he would accept more work at the college.339

Van Dyck had expected much more from the Syria Mission, and he was disappointed for many reasons. Mission work in Syria had meant a great deal to him, as he wrote in his farewell letter to the administration of the American Board in 1869.340 When asked whether he wanted to end his ties to the ABCFM, dedicating himself entirely to the SPC, he replied, "No! I have served the Board 30 years … and I hope to die in its service."341 If Van Dyck sensed discord, he knew to keep his composure. When the *Missionary Herald* printed Van Dyck's farewell letter in an 1870 issue, it omitted an important sentence. In the newspaper, one can read "Now the tie is severed! …"342 In fact, in his letter to Secretary Clark, Van Dyck added: "… and the question of remaining in connection with the Mission is an open one."343

In 1870, Daniel Bliss reported that Van Dyck was now in the position to accept a full professorship at the Syrian Protestant College – indicating that Van Dyck would no longer be employed by the Syria Mission.344 He directed the American Mission Press through the early 1870s, and he occasionally fulfilled the tasks of an ordained pastor.345 He did not, however, break off contact with the Syria Mission, which continued to value his services and accomplishments in the field of education.

#### 3. Completion of the Arabic Bible

If Eli Smith proved his linguistic talents among the first generation of American missionaries, Van Dyck carried on this legacy in the second generation, continuously perfecting his command of the Arabic language. Between 1840 and 1857 he studied Arabic with Nasif al-Yaziji, Butrus al-Bustani, and Yusuf al-Asir; his wife Julia assisted him with conversational, everyday usage.346 Van Dyck was proficient in ten languages, including Syrian, Hebrew, Greek, French, Italian, and German.347 His students later recalled that he always had a notebook by his side, in which he and Nasif al-Yaziji recorded excerpts of Arabic poetry and *qasā'id*. He recited regularly from the notebook on various occasions.348

It is not at all surprising that, after Smith's death, the mission chose Van Dyck to complete the translation of the Bible. Van Dyck was Smith's favorite student, the only author whose works could go to press without first being proofread by Smith.349 Already in 1851, Anderson had suggested that Van Dyck, because of his familiarity with Arabic poetry, might help with the translation of poetic Bible texts like the Psalms and Job.350 However, because Van Dyck had other responsibilities as a missionary and mission doctor, he became involved with the translation project only after Smith's death. Instead of Nasif al-Yaziji (whose work Smith had grown dissatisfied with) and Butrus al-Bustani (who was now busy with other work), Van Dyck hired the Muslim scholar Yusuf al-Asir to be his assistant. The Syrian, who was raised in Sidon, had studied law and Islamic theology at Al-Azhar University in Cairo. Active in the intellectual circles of Egypt and Syria, al-Asir had previously worked for the Ottoman government and taught Arabic, including at the National School founded by Bustani in 1862.351 He was one of the first Muslim intellectuals to become active in the Christian-dominated cultural movement in Syria.352 Van Dyck, who was impressed by al-Asir and his linguistic talents,353 intentionally sought a Muslim collaborator: "I preferred a Muslim to a Christian, as coming to

the work with no preconceived ideas of what a passage ought to mean, and as being more extensively read in Arabic."354 Al-Asir was tasked with proofreading Van Dyck's translations and reformulating foreign expressions.355 In addition to al-Asir, Van Dyck presumably employed other, unnamed proofreaders who helped to complete the Bible translation.356 In 1861, Van Dyck wrote to Anderson that, because of the strenuous work, he would hire more assistants if he could.357

As already mentioned, Smith's draft of the New Testament was almost unusable because it was not based on the *textus receptus*. 358 Nevertheless, Van Dyck wanted to acknowledge the work of his predecessor. He obtained permission from the American Bible Society (the funder of the translation project) to mention the existence of additional Greek, Syriac, or Arabic manuscripts that departed from the accepted Greek text in the translation's footnotes. "I availed myself largely of this permission," he later recalled.359 In this way, the current research and textual criticism that Smith did not want to neglect was incorporated into the translation. Van Dyck also adopted Smith's practice of sending translation drafts to a variety of readers. A circle of about thirty people – including missionaries in the Arab world, native scholars, as well as Arabists in Germany – regularly received proofs for correction.360 In a letter to the American Bible Society, Van Dyck commented: "These all come back with notes and suggestions, every one of which must be well weighed. Thus a critic, by one dash of his pen, may cause me a day's labour, and not till all is set right, can the sheet be printed."361 According to new research by the Arabist Sara binay, Van Dyck's translation of the gospels corresponds with Smith's version more than ninety-five percent of the time, more than previously assumed: "There is proof that Cornelius Van Dyck really reread their translation but only in a few cases did he have to implement corrections, some based on his comparison with the recognised Greek text and some in matters of Arabic style."362

With respect to Arabic style, Smith had set a clear precedent. All of the missionaries agreed that a simple, pure Arabic, "free from foreign idioms," was the best solution. Adopting the style of the Koran ("*i. e.,* Islamic, adopting idioms and expressions peculiar to Mohammedans") had been considered, but Van Dyck reported that *all* Christian scholars had opposed this.363 Those responsible for the Bible translation felt strongly that the poetic and very complex Arabic language of the Koran – accessible only to the highly educated, with words that had long fallen out of use – should be replaced with a simpler Arabic that was comprehensible to all. A more elevated register was chosen only for the poetic parts of the Bible, so that these would correspond to the style of the original Greek or Hebrew texts.364

The New Testament went to print in the spring of 1860. Several different persons suggested that Van Dyck should also publish a vocalized edition of the New Testament. One reason for this was to model the vocalized Koran, in order to reach Muslims more easily. Another was so that the vocalized text could be used in schools, to promote correct pronunciation.365

Continuing to work on the Old Testament proved to be an arduous task for Van Dyck. He traveled to Austria and Prussia in 1869, so that he could speak with Orientalists in Vienna, Leipzig, Dresden, and Halle about difficulties with the text.366 On August 23, 1864, Van Dyck finally finished translating the last sentence of Malachi. His son Edward later recalled that on this evening he had been waiting for his father, who stepped out onto the balcony of the house and said: "Edward, it is finished. Thank God!  I never thought I was going to live to finish this work."367

The first complete edition of the Arabic Bible was published in March 1865. By the arrangement of the pages, it is even possible to recognize where Smith's translation ended and Van Dyck's began.368 In the summer of 1865, Van Dyck traveled to New York to commission the production of metal plates for printing the Bible faster.369 Through electrotyping, the plates could be reproduced and used over and over – allowing the Bible to be widely distributed. The British and Foreign Bible Society received a copy of the plates. By 1910, around thirty-two editions and more

363 "Van Dyck's History, 1885," in: Smith and Van Dyck, *Brief Documentary History of the Translations of the Scriptures*, 28.

369 The process that Van Dyck called "electrotype printing" was based upon the technique of etching. Using manual and electric tools, characters were carved into a metal plate of copper or zinc and then immersed in an acidic solution. See Grabowski and Fick, *Drucktechniken*, 103–6.

364 Ibid.

368 Ibid., 280–81.

than 900,000 individual copies of the Smith-Van Dyck Bible had been printed.370 The printed Arabic Bible of the Americans was one of the most read versions of Holy Scripture of its era.371 As explained in chapter II, section 1.4, this Bible was not a classic translation from the text's original languages; it incorporated the phraseologies of existing Arabic manuscripts so that the reader might encounter them anew.

Two other Arabic Bible translations were undertaken in the nineteenth century, but these were not nearly as popular as the Americans'. Around the same time as Eli Smith, Faris al-Shidyaq and the Englishman Samuel Lee began to translate the English King James Bible into Arabic, as commissioned (primarily) by the Church Propagation Society. Although this version was printed in London in 1851 and 1857, it was not widely used.372 In 1881, the Jesuits brought out a translation that was largely completed by Ibrahim al-Yaziji, son of the scholar Nasif al-Yaziji. Van Dyck recognized few differences between al-Yaziji's text and his own translation: "It is a fair translation generally, and only differs in very slight particulars from mine (so far as I have traced it), … and that only for the sake of differing from the Protestant Version."373 However, Van Dyck was incorrect. The Jesuit Arabic Bible was not a revision of the Smith-Van Dyck Bible, but an independent translation. Although it shared many similarities with the Protestant Bible,374 it departed from this translation in numerous places with its smooth, more sophisticated Arabic. More expressive but also not as closely bound to the original texts, this version was particularly favored in intellectual and scholarly circles.375

Even the Orthodox churches in Syria and the Coptic Christians in Egypt used the American Bible translation.376 The Maronite church, by contrast, has continued to use the Jesuit version up through the present day. Today, the Smith-Van Dyck Bible still serves as the Protestant "*textus receptus*" in Lebanon, Syria, Palestine, and Israel.377 Although Van Dyck persisted in crediting Smith's authorship at every opportunity,378 Smith's pioneering accomplishments were increasingly overlooked. The missionaries' collaboration with the Syrian scholars al-Yaziji, al-Bustani, and al-Asir – which contributed significantly to perfecting the translation – received

even less acknowledgment.379 The Arabic Bible translation of the American missionaries eventually became known as simply the "Van Dyck Bible."

#### 4.  The title was traditionally used for medical doctors who also worked in other scientific fields, as was often the case in the Middle Ages. The title was appropriate for Van Dyck, who was well-versed in medicine, chemistry, astrono my, mathematics, theology, and law.

His greatest accomplishments were scientific and scholarly, defined by rational thought. According to his student Jurji Zaydan, he never allowed his religious faith to intrude upon this work.380 When the Syria Mission identified a lack of materials throughout the educational sector, Van Dyck made this cause his own. His advocacy for education in the natural sciences was without parallel in Syria. Even today, his name figures prominently in Arabic historiographies of the nineteenth century.

In 1853, the JAOS published Van Dyck's article about the current state of the medical profession in Syria.381 The article demonstrated his thorough knowledge of the history of Arab medicine,382 as well as his ongoing research into the manu scripts of classical scholars like Avicenna, Abucasis, Avenzoar, Averroes and Rhazes.383 Although Avicenna was still very influential among Arab doctors, Van Dyck was not able to locate any complete manuscripts of his works.384 There were, however, translations of Greek scholars like Hippocrates, Aristotle, Paracelsus, and Galen, whose influence was just as great. Van Dyck remarked critically that merely owning such manuscripts was often enough to be considered a doctor in Syria.385 Medical knowledge in the Arab world was in a rudimentary state.386 Ignorance, incorrect treatments, and the superstition that autopsies mutilated the dead, although they might precisely explain the reasons for illness,387 inspired Van Dyck's own mission to reinvigorate medical science in the region. "The West has plundered the East of a large part of its literature," Van Dyck wrote in his article for the JAOS.

By reprinting the treasures of Arab scholars, European presses had helped to preserve them and ensure their accessibility in the libraries of Europe.388 To speak of "plundering" is appropriate only insofar as these new editions did not find their way back to the Arab world. The neglect of education under Ottoman rule likewise played a role. The first medical schools were established in Egypt only during the early nineteenth-century reign of Muhammad ʿAli, through the influence of the French. By the mid-nineteenth century, graduates had translated more than sixty well-known European works into Arabic.389 Although well-to-do Syrians studied at these schools, the lack of knowledge about medicine in Syria remained widespread until the middle of the nineteenth century. According to Van Dyck, the Egyptians' translations were not well executed, with insufficient consideration given to Arabic terms for sicknesses and medical conditions. These translations introduced Western terms for sicknesses where Arabic counterparts already existed. In other cases, Western terms were transliterated in such a way that they could no longer be recognized by European or Arab readers.390 The use of Latin terms was unavoidable for new scientific discoveries, but Van Dyck strove to find adequate Arabic words for previously known conditions.391 By republishing al-Razi's manuscript on smallpox and measles (*Kitab fi l-Jadari wa l-Hasba li l-Razi*) in 1872/73, Van Dyck wanted to demonstrate the contemporary relevance of this ninth- or tenth-century work, as nineteenth-century practitioners of Western medicine had again begun to use the methods of treatment it described.392 In the book's introduction, Van Dyck credited al-Razi as the first person to write about these diseases. Van Dyck clarified expressions that had fallen out of use, and he corrected al-Razi's medical interpretations wherever they deviated from current scientific standards. Finally, Van Dyck added a bibliography of Greek works that had been translated into Arabic.393

Van Dyck's work as an author was not limited to the field of medicine. In forty years, he wrote or translated around thirteen theological texts, and around twenty-three394 non-fiction works on geography, geology, algebra, geometry, chemis-

394 There is not an exact number, in part because his authorship of some works has not been clearly established (see appendix I). There are also three unpublished manuscripts (*Tibb al-ʿAyn* [Ophthalmology]; *al-Bathulujiyya al-Mardiyya* [Pathology of Disease]; *al-Bathulujiyya al-ʿAma* [General Pathology]). See Khuri, "Kurniliyus Fan Dayk," 418. For the manuscript "*Amrad al-*

388 Ibid., 569.

393 Ibid., 398–400.

try, physics, astronomy, poetry, and dialectics. Only a few were pure translations. Most were compilations of already familiar and current scientific facts; Van Dyck wrote an original introduction to each, explaining its importance to readers.395 He constantly worked to harmonize familiar Arabic vocabulary with the different sciences. This is readily evident in his geography textbook from 1851, *Kitab al-Mirʾat al-Wadiyya fi l-Kurat al-Ardiyya* (literally, "The clear mirror that reflects the earth," or "a clarification of geography"), which also demonstrates his affection for poetic titles. To facilitate readers' comprehension of new terms, he often provided synonyms – such as *jabal al-nār* (fire mountain) and *barkān* (volcano), or *al-baḥr al-muḥīṭ* and *al-ūqīyānūs* (ocean).396 Foreign proper names were partially translated and transliterated (*nahr al-missīsibī* [Mississippi River], *jabal al-alb* [Alpine mountains]). In other textbooks – including *Usul al-Kimiya* (Fundamentals of Chemistry, 1869) and *Usul ʿIlm al-Haiʾa* (Fundamentals of Astronomy, 1874) – he was able to incorporate existing terminology because of his familiarity with the works of Arab scholars from the Early Middle Ages. (For example: *al-kibrīt* = sulfur; *al-fiḍḍa* = silver; *ziʾbaq* = quicksilver; *ʿuṭārid* = mercury) He transliterated only those terms that were completely unknown in the Arabic-speaking world.397 With older or lesser known Arabic phrasings, Van Dyck included explanatory comments. Many of his books became reference works for students of all grade levels. These books not only provided current information about scientific developments, but also demonstrated the continued relevance of Arab scholars from past centuries. In his last book, which he published about astronomy in 1893,398 he noted that his listing of Arab scholars (many of whom had lived in the Abbasid era) included only a small portion of those who had helped to advance science within the Arab world.399

Van Dyck's manuscript about eye diseases (*Amrad al-ʿAyn*) was newly printed in 1992, on the occasion of the AUB's 125th anniversary and the opening of an eye bank at the university's medical center.400 An article about the manuscript, which appeared in the newspaper *al-Anbiyaʾ* (1992), emphasizes the author's ingenuity. Van Dyck had to introduce new terms for the various eye diseases, since he could not refer to any other work from past centuries. The prevalence of eye diseases among the Arab population alerted Van Dyck to a lack of specialized knowledge. On his first trip to the United States, he learned more about the field of microscopy and brought the first microscope to Syria.401 On his second trip, when he resided in New York for two years (1865–1867), he paid for additional training in ophthalmology with income from his professorship at Union Theological Seminary.402

*ʿAyn*," see below. Glaß ("Der Missionar Cornelius van Dyck," 187) refers to twenty-nine Arabic books and twenty articles in Arabic periodicals.

Van Dyck presumably wrote the manuscript in the years thereafter, when he was teaching at the SPC. It is not known why the manuscript was never published, since need for such a textbook clearly existed. Significantly, Van Dyck did not neglect the potential of traditional remedies. He not only introduced around forty new chemical medications for eye ailments and explained the anatomy of the eye; he also discussed popular remedies in Syria, often involving plants and herbs, in order to analyze their efficacy. In a 1992 article, JurJ Jaha noted that Van Dyck's language and specialized terminology would not have been easily comprehensible to readers who were not well versed in formal Arabic.403

Van Dyck's introduction of specialized terminology into Arabic, and the spread of his textbooks throughout Syria, and even into Egypt and Persia, meant that the mission doctor exerted a formative influence on several scientific fields within the Arab world. Already in 1876/77, the first volume of *Muqtataf* (edited by Van Dyck's students Yaʿqub Sarruf and Faris Nimr) featured the same illustrations and chemical terminology as Van Dyck's textbook *Usul al-Kimiya* (1869).404 Glaß has, for example, noted that both publications use *haidrūjīn* (or *hīdrujīn*) for "hydrogen," *ḥāmiḍ haidrūklūrīk* for "hydrochloric acid," and *tabalwara* for "crystallizing."405 Thus, the journal played a role in the transfer of specialized scientific terminology into the vocabulary of generally educated readers. Van Dyck's textbooks were not only used in Syria, but also in Egyptian schools and at Cairo's Al-Azhar University, since his former students who edited *Muqtataf* helped to popularize the new textbooks in Egypt.406

There was hardly a Syrian periodical with Christian publishers that did not publish articles by Van Dyck. The mission doctor and scientist was also a popular author. Van Dyck wrote numerous articles for the journal *al-Jinan*, which was founded by his longtime friend Butrus al-Bustani in 1870. Van Dyck used the encyclopedia-like periodical as a platform for his scientific findings in fields like chemistry and biology.407

In his adopted homeland, Van Dyck realized his scholarly ambitions most fully at the Syrian Protestant College. Together with John Wortabet, he established the college's medical department; George Post joined them later.408 Van Dyck initially taught botany and chemistry three times each week.409 He later lectured on internal

medicine, pathology, and theology,410 and Edwin Lewis and George Post assumed responsibility for chemistry and botany. Van Dyck transformed another one of his passions into an avocation in 1873, offering instruction in astronomy and meteorology with a telescope that he had acquired himself.411 He found a peaceful respite in observing the stars and measuring changes in climate.412

Since the establishment of the medical department, the college presided over a kind of clinic that gave students the opportunity to acquire practical experience.413 Because eye diseases were common among the population at this time, many patients came to the SPC clinic with similar symptoms. This situation, exacerbated by the clinic's inability to admit patients who had traveled a long distance, inspired Van Dyck's 1869 proposal for a specialized eye clinic that would be affiliated with the college. That same year, the Brown Ophthalmic Hospital was established with the help of monetary donations from the United States, obtained through Van Dyck's appeal to Dr. Adams at the Madison Square Church in New York.414 Van Dyck became its director.415 SPC annual reports do not indicate whether or not the hospital was linked administratively and financially with the college. The eye clinic apparently lasted for only a short time, because in 1871 Van Dyck initiated negotiations to cooperate with the Prussian hospital of the Johanniter Order, which had opened in 1866.416 The Kaiserswerth deaconesses, who had served in Beirut in 1862, assumed responsibility for the hospital in 1867.417 From this point forward, professors at the college worked regularly at the hospital, and medical students had the opportunity to gain professional experience there.

Despite his intensive engagement on behalf of the college, Van Dyck insisted upon receiving the same pay as his colleagues.418 As he himself stated, the well-being of the SPC was near and dear to his heart. Even at the expense of his own health,

he was prepared to dedicate every minute towards its progress.419 Van Dyck's students admired his knowledge, his generosity, and his efforts to ensure that their studies were successful. Thomas Philipp has written that "the students adored van Dyck; they praised his virtues, merits and kindness."420 His reputation extended beyond the walls of the college. He was widely believed to have founded the SPC, which was sometimes called *Madrasat Fāndayk* (Van Dyck School).421 The gap that remained after Van Dyck's departure in 1882 could not be filled by a new instructor. It seems surprising that an institution as renowned as the SPC would let go of its best instructor, holding fast to its religious principles. The circumstances that led to the resignations of Van Dyck, William Van Dyck,422 and chemistry and geology professor Edwin Lewis had to do with the scandal surrounding Lewis's commencement address (described in chapter I, section 1.5). The new teachings of the British researcher Charles Darwin touched off a conflict between liberal and conservative factions at the SPC. Darwin's theory of evolution did not shake Van Dyck's religious convictions. As a scientist, he felt obliged to respect this theory and engage with it rationally.423 The freedom of thought and expression that he espoused to his students was at stake.424 In this regard, he was well ahead of his conservative colleagues. Van Dyck's decision to give up his teaching position was certainly not caused by these events alone. His letter of resignation, written to the Board of Trustees in New York on December 18, 1882, states:

The course taken by Dr. Bliss and Dr. Post for some time past in College matters, and the fact that I differ from them radically as to the principle which should guide the Faculty in the management of so important an institution, have led to such a divergence between us, that, finding myself powerless to remedy a state of things which I truly deplore, I can no longer consistently retain my connection with the College.425

Even before the events surrounding Edwin Lewis's speech, numerous factors had contributed to an impending crisis at the college – beginning with the administration's objections to Lewis's behavior, although his relationship with Daniel Bliss had not been troubled during his first years at the college.426 In addition, there was

a rivalry between George Post, who was unpopular with the students,427 and the renowned Cornelius Van Dyck.428 William Van Dyck's personal contact with Charles Darwin, and his enthusiasm for Darwin's ideas, added to the tensions.429 Finally, Cornelius Van Dyck's position at the college was in itself a problem in the eyes of conservatives. As a proponent of rational thought, he did not hide behind religious fanaticism. He spoke openly about matters that his colleagues did not dare to address.430 Bliss complained repeatedly about the liberal professors' attitudes towards David Stuart Dodge, who was a member of the Board of Trustees in New York as well as Bliss's close friend.431 When Van Dyck learned that Bliss had discussed internal conflicts at the college with Dodge,432 without first consulting the faculty or the Board of Managers, he was incensed and complained to the Board of Trustees on several occasions.433 Dodge wrote to Bliss that he should not be intimidated by Van

 Nevertheless, Lewis – like Van Dyck, a passionate scientist and ordained pastor – espoused views that opposed the college's strict religious rules. Board of Trustees member David S. Dodge threatened to fire Lewis for serving wine at a dinner. See Dodge to Bliss (Bushy Hill, July 5, 1882): AA.<IP_ADDRESS>.2 ("It would be desirable for the College if he could find some other sphere of usefulness, but we must quietly wait." See also Juha, *Darwin wa Azma 1882 bi l-Daʾira al-Tibbiyya*, 56–58. According to Jurji Zaydan, Lewis occasionally skipped the mandatory devotions: *Mudhakirrat Jurji Zaydan*, p. 66, cited in: Juha, *Darwin wa Azma 1882 bi l-Daʾira al-Tibbiyya*, 57.

Dyck's impulsive behavior, or by his complaints at a mission station meeting about the "burning wrongs at Râs-Beirût" and the "terrors of more resignations and wholesale desertions." With respect to the talented young William Van Dyck, Dodge was not convinced that he possessed a spirit of mission that was appropriate for the college. "If difficulty would come from rejecting him, I have little doubt, more would eventually come from accepting him."434 He advised Bliss to take things slowly, if necessary with less personnel: "Better run at half-speed … than make sixteen knots with the aid of atheistic, materialistic or non-religious boilers."435

The SPC was reluctant to lose its best professor. From New York, members of the Board of Trustees attempted to persuade Van Dyck to apologize; a statement of regret about the recent events would have been enough to rehabilitate him.436 Dodge encouraged Bliss to negotiate with Van Dyck:

No matter what he may think personally of Darwinism etc., he may be able to see and feel that an Institution like this College is already and absolutely committed to an outspoken and unquestionable orthodoxy etc.etc. … We do not want to separate from such a man as Dr Van Dyck hastily. We want, if possible, to save him from the disgrace and injury to himself and the cause, of deserting the college on any such ground. He must strain every nerve to prevent such a catastrophe for a man whose name for learning and piety is known throughout the World.437

Bliss tersely replied that the conditions Van Dyck had set for his return were "inadmissable."438 In the case of William Van Dyck, the Board of Trustees was happy to receive his resignation. None of the resignations were unexpected, and they were met with little regret from the college and its administration, both in Beirut and abroad. Cornelius Van Dyck no longer shied from confronting the college's conservative faction. He advised his companions to distance themselves from the pastors439 and their false, exaggerated piety. Holding fast to their religious principles, they denounced as secular any scientific approaches to thought that seemed to contradict them.440

The American Richard Brigstocke, who taught obstetrics and pediatric medicine, left his position in March 1883,441 leaving the college to manage the absence of four instructors. The institution's reputation depended upon finding successors in a timely way, so that students could complete their degrees.442 Already in 1882, Van Dyck promised his students that if they were suspended from the college, he would instruct them privately at his home. Bliss believed this to be a rumor, but Van Dyck proved him wrong.443 Van Dyck, his son William, and Edwin Lewis ultimately

434 Dodge to Bliss (Bushy Hill, August 1, 1882): AA.<IP_ADDRESS>.3.

435 Ibid.

436 Ibid.

437 Dodge to Bliss (Watch Hill, August 21, 1882): AA.<IP_ADDRESS>.3.

438 "A Statement. 1883 by the President to the Board of Managers": ABC 16.8.2., Vol. 2, 74.

helped twelve suspended students prepare for the medical exam in Istanbul.444 According to an official statement from the college president in 1883, the certificates that Van Dyck presented to the students would not be recognized in Istanbul, so students would have to return to the college in order to take their exams.445 By contrast, Jurji Zaydan wrote in his biography that a committee made up of Van Dyck, Lewis, Wortabet, Brigstocke, and two Syrian doctors gave the students their exams, so that they ultimately could receive their diplomas in Istanbul.446 As the college's diplomatic representative, George Post sought to prevent this by interceding with the medical department in Istanbul – apparently without success.447

A professor who could present the complexity of Van Dyck's subject matter in Arabic was never found. As a result, the 1874 decision to adopt English as the main language of instruction448 was extended to the medical faculty in 1883. It has often been assumed that Van Dyck, along with his colleague John Wortabet and others,449 opposed the transition to English because he had mastered Arabic so thoroughly.450 Protest against the transition, first expressed in a letter from the missionary William Eddy on July 30, 1878, has been wrongly associated with Van Dyck. The fact is, however, that Van Dyck participated in all of the committees that advised in this matter. As acting SPC president during Daniel Bliss's absence between 1874 and 1876, he even led some of the committees.451 Van Dyck and his son William both signed the majority decision in favor of English.452 The medical faculty had been hesitant to implement the transition, since it might have negatively impacted young doctors practicing among the Arabic-speaking population. With the departure of several instructors who were fluent in Arabic, however, there was no longer any reason to delay the adoption of English as the language of instruction throughout the entire college.

Van Dyck earned his reputation as al-Ḥakīm likewise as a practicing doctor. The sending of doctors as missionaries was an established component of foreign missions. Mission doctors not only fostered better access to the population; they also introduced the latest medical innovations to a native population whose health care was usually provided by laypeople. Time and again, the Americans were at

the forefront of medical developments in Syria – with Cornelius Van Dyck leading the way. Through the end of the nineteenth century, Christian European societies took it upon themselves to enhance the social sector with hospitals, clinics, and schools for nurses.453 Van Dyck persistently lobbied to establish a clinic or hospital in association with the college. The college's dispensary eventually became the Brown Ophthalmic Hospital, although its fate is now unknown. Cooperation with the Prussian Johanniter hospital was established in 1871.454 The respected doctor held office hours twice a week, which were always well attended. Although Van Dyck left the college in 1882 and the cooperation agreement was only valid for SPC instructors, he was nonetheless permitted to continue working in the hospital for some time.455 In his 1883 statement about the events at the SPC, Daniel Bliss wrote that a local newspaper had reported that Van Dyck and Lewis had helped to establish a new native hospital. Fears that Van Dyck's institution would compete with the hospital of the SPC quickly faded when the hospital in question closed its doors after only three weeks. The reasons were not given.456 Bliss's comments about where Van Dyck did continue to practice are highly contradictory. It can be determined, however, that after 1882 Van Dyck entered into a new agreement with the Rum Orthodox St. George Hospital in Beirut.457 The hospital's annual report from 1885 relayed the praise that the American doctor received for his professional and humane engagement. He treated his patients not only with medicine, but also with words of comfort.458 According to the report, patients sometimes saw him as Moses. Van Dyck dedicated himself to the Rum Orthodox hospital for another ten years.459 Although he lived two miles from the hospital, the now elderly doctor made the journey several times each week. He paid for a new wing of the hospital from his own pocket, so more patients could be treated.460

Not only the college, but also the mission, was disappointed that Van Dyck had taken up with "the enemy." He was damaging the legitimacy of the American mission, as William Eddy wrote to the PBCFM on February 18, 1882: "We are terribly hampered in our dealings with the natives by the course of Dr. Van Dyck. An open enemy would do us less harm. … He opposes our choicest plans. …"461 By 1890, however, these annoyances appeared to be forgotten. On the fiftieth anniversary of

his residence in Syria, the Syria Mission presented Van Dyck with special editions of all his works in Arabic. In his book *Fifty-Three Years in Syria* (1910), Henry Harris Jessup spoke enthusiastically of Van Dyck's work for the Rum Orthodox hospital: "[He] aided not only in raising its character, but in inducing the wealthy Syrian Greeks to contribute to its enlargement and its higher efficiency."462 Jessup reported that the hospital honored Van Dyck's anniversary by installing a marble bust of the doctor in its courtyard. "It was the first memorial bust in Syria in modern times, and the Greek Society have shown great liberality and sincere gratitude by setting it up to commemorate the labours and life of an American Protestant missionary physician."463

Representatives of many of different confessions and institutions in Syria paid their respects to Van Dyck during the celebrations of 1890, although there were no official congratulations from Daniel Bliss and the college faculty.464 In the end, however, Van Dyck was distinguished enough that the SPC did not want to lose its connection to him. In 1913, two busts honoring him and Wortabet were unveiled on the grounds of the SPC.465 On this occasion, students from the class of 1882 who had been suspended from the SPC, completing their studies elsewhere, were retroactively recognized as graduates of 1883.466 It was a kind of posthumous apology for the personal controversies that had moved Van Dyck to leave the college.

#### 5. From *Akhbar ʿan Intishar al-Injil fi Amakin Mukhtalifa* to *al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya*

Twelve years after Smith's pioneering accomplishment with the publication of *Majmuʿ Fawaʾid*, the first printed Arabic periodical, the mission introduced "a small-sized, illustrated periodical"467 that over the decades developed into a journal that still exists today. In 1863, Cornelius Van Dyck became the editor of *Akhbar ʿan Intishar al-Injil fi Amakin Mukhtalifa* (News about Spreading the Gospel in Different Locations).468 At first, the journal was more of a monthly newsletter, just four

pages long. As its title indicates, its initial focus was limited to news that concerned spreading the Gospel throughout the world. Each issue contained three or four articles, resembling short stories or extended anecdotes from the world of mission work. The salvation of a heathen culture from its "primitive" state of ignorance through Christianity – whether in the South Pacific, India, or Madagascar – was a recurring theme. The featured locations were sites where the ABCFM had sent its missionaries. As the anecdotes were presumably taken from missionary reports that had first appeared in the *Missionary Herald*, the Beirut periodical might be thought of as a condensed, Arabic version of the *Missionary Herald*. Smith's *Majmuʿ Fawaʾid* was more diverse, featuring not only Christian topics, although its focus was likewise on spreading the message of Christianity. The journal *Akhbar ʿan Intishar*, which first appeared in 1863, was the first Arabic periodical with printed pictures.469 Its second issue, dated May 1, 1863, featured a drawing of a ceremony at a temple to *Jakkarnūt* (Jagannātha), an Indian deity.470 Browsing through the periodical, it is evident that these kinds of illustrations held great significance at the time. Since the punches for the illustrations came from the United States,471 it can be assumed that the ABCFM also used them for its own publications.

After 1866, Van Dyck's periodical also began to feature informative articles that did not promote a Christian message, although the publication continued to serve as the voice of the Syria Mission. The journal was renamed *al-Nashra al-Shahriyya* (Monthly Bulletin) in June 1868.472 Its external appearance changed, but its content continued to resemble that of its predecessor.473 For a while, the old title continued to appear as the journal's subtitle. After January 1871, *al-Nashra* began to appear once a week and was renamed *al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya* (Weekly Bulletin). Instead of the previous subtitle, an open Bible was now depicted featuring the words from Psalm 119:130, "*fataḥ kalāmika yunayir*" ("the unfolding of your words gives light").474 (Figure 6)

Mission to Anderson (Beirut, February 6, 1863): ABC 16.8.1., Vol. 6 (21). Editorship of the publication changed constantly in the years to come (see below).

*Figure 6: Title page from al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya (May 9, 1871)*

The journal increasingly became a hodgepodge of different genres. Although it continued to feature articles about the spread of Christianity, usually in the form of short stories with a moral lesson, a growing number of scholarly and scientific reports joined the mix, along with specific illustrations from the fields of biology, history, philosophy, and poetry. Van Dyck's influence was unmistakable. Beginning with the July 1871 issue, Bible verses, aphorisms,475 and news of current events appeared under the familiar title *Fawaʾid*. All this, as v. f. di tarrazi emphasizes, was presented in a simple language that was suitable for a broad reading public, with or without a formal education.476 The historian yuSuf QaSma Khuri argues

that the scholarly content featured in the *Nashra* helped to promote the projects of young Syrian scholars. Examples include Van Dyck's praise of the new geography book by Salim al-Khuri and Salim Shahada, as well as the founding of the literary and scholarly journal *al-Muqtataf* by Van Dyck's students Yaʿqub Sarruf and Faris Nimr.477

Once *al-Nashra* appeared weekly, new books were presented in a format that was typical for European and American literary journals. Works of Christian literature, including those published in Arabic translation by the American Mission Press, were serialized and could be read in every weekly edition. Books like Jean-Henri D'Aubigné's *History of the Reformation* and Elizabeth Rundle Charles's *Chronicles of the Schönberg-Cotta Family* were printed in installments over years.478 Informative articles on topics such as the Sermon on the Mount and the persecution of the first Christians, or a lexicon of saints' relics, were also serialized.479 Polemical texts against the Roman Catholic church, especially against Jesuit missionaries in Syria, appeared frequently in the mission's first decades. Under the helm of Cornelius Van Dyck, however, *al-Nashra* took a less confrontational stance, identified by Khuri as "respectful silence" (*al-sukūt al-mauwaqqar*).480 There was an attempt to foster objective discussion of topics such as papal infallibility, without directly impugning representatives of the Catholic church.481 When the Jesuit father Van Ham attacked the Americans' translation of the Bible in the Jesuit newspaper *al-Bashir* (The Messenger),482 *al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya* responded with a series of articles called "Defending against the arrows of the Jesuit Van Ham" (*irtidāʿ al-sihām ʿalā al-yasūʿī Fān Hām*).483 At the time, the Jesuit periodical *al-Bashir* was particularly known for its religiously motivated discussions and attacks against journals like Bustani's *al-Jinan* and Sarruf's and Nimr's *al-Muqtataf*. 484

In contrast to Smith's journal, the first years of *al-Nashra* were characterized by a similarly unstructured format. Page numbers were introduced after the periodical's expansion in November 1867, but its authors remained unnamed. Likewise, no sources were given for the scholarly articles at this time. There was no recognizable logic to the order in which the highly diverse articles appeared, in contrast to Smith's journal. Over the course of the years, the names of missionaries and Syrian Protestants responsible for compiling the news of a particular issue appeared with greater frequency (Henry Harris Jessup on November 3, 1871; Ibrahim Sarkis485 on January 21, 1873; Yuhanna Abcarius486 on May 3, 1875). As presumed to be the case with Smith's *Majmuʿ Fawaʾid*, *al-Nashra* was likely edited by a constantly rotating team of missionaries and Syrians who helped to publish the journal. Nassim al-Helou, who worked on the editorial staff beginning in 1891, mentioned that the Syrians Ibrahim Sarkis, Rizq Allah Barbari487 and Asʿad al-Shadudi488 contributed significantly to *Nashra*'s development.489

We can only speculate why Van Dyck was removed as editor in 1879.490 William Eddy, who became the new editor in 1880, wrote in the introduction to the first issue of that year that *al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya* would remain a religiously oriented journal. According to Eddy, it was not enough to be a scholarly journal like *al-Jinan* or *al-Muqtataf*, or a financial paper like *al-Janna* or *Lisan al-Hal*. 491 Van Dyck's selection of topics for the *Nashra* had presumably become too secular for the Syria Mission, so *al-Ḥakīm* Van Dyck had to step down. Samuel Jessup took over from William Eddy in 1883, and Henry Harris Jessup edited the journal and its supplemental series (*al-Mulhaq al-Nashra al-Usbuʿiyya*) from 1889 until 1902.492 In the twentieth century, al-Nashra became a "semi-monthly review" and a "collection of articles on the many different phases of family life."493 Under the direction of Rev. Adib Awwad, *al-Nashra* today is published by the Evangelical Synod of Syria and Lebanon.

# 6. "The joys of science": Van Dyck and the scientific societies

Given Van Dyck's passion for everything having to do with knowledge and its acquisition, he was readily welcomed as a member of the American Oriental Society494 and the DMG.495 The new scientific societies that emerged in Beirut in the 1850s were especially enthusiastic about his participation. Most lasted for only a few years, before being replaced by a better organized or more inclusive successor.496

As a founding member of the Syrian Society for Arts and Sciences, Van Dyck proved early on that he could deliver a scholarly presentation in Arabic. His talk entitled "*Fi Ladhat al-ʿIlm wa ʿAwaʾdihi*" (On the Delights and Utilities of Science)497 revealed what drove and inspired him – that all persons should expand their horizons through science. Van Dyck encouraged his listeners to engage with science in their free time, and to motivate others to do so as well.498 He distinguished between two kinds of people. The first kind saw no reason to expand or replace their existing knowledge with new information; they relied upon the experiences of the past and questioned anyone who sought to change the status quo. The other kind celebrated the acquisition of knowledge, because it eased their lives and daily work – an idea was later promoted by the editors of the *Muqtataf*. 499 Van Dyck not only taught about knowledge in daily life. When he spoke of knowledge from the past and present, he was almost certainly talking about himself – an attitude that he carried throughout his entire career:

When he [the friend of science] observes things that happen in his lifetime, he is pleased, and he compares them with the events of past generations, thereby recognizing the similarities and differences between epochs. He directs his steps according to the choices of those who came

before him, either viewing their life's work as a model to emulate, or as a lesson to be kept in mind.500

As frequently mentioned in this study, the topic of knowledge was a constant focus of the scholarly circles of this time. Van Dyck's second talk for the Syrian Society, "*Fi Fadl al-Mutaʾakhirrin ʿala l-Mutaqaddimin*" (On the Superiority of the Moderns over the Ancients),501 explained how contemporary generations must build upon or revise the understanding of their ancestors, if it was not correct. In all situations, however, a connection to the past should be maintained.

In 1882, the *al-Majmaʿ al-ʿIlmi al-Sharqi* (Oriental Scientific Association) was founded in Beirut. Its members included well-known personalities such as Yaʿqub Sarruf, Faris Nimr, Salim al-Bustani, Ibrahim al-Yaziji, William Van Dyck, and Jurji Zaydan. Van Dyck and Wortabet were elected to its executive board. Like its predecessor societies, this association was dedicated to science and its practical applications.502 With the departure of the *Muqtataf* into Egyptian exile in 1884,503 support for the Oriental Scientific Association seems to have faltered. The society dissolved itself around 1885.504 At its annual meeting two years earlier, Van Dyck had emphasized that the success of such an association depended upon its lasting effects.505

#### 7. Final observations

The life's work of Cornelius Van Dyck clearly did have a lasting effect. The young doctor from Kinderhook became an exceptional figure in the American mission in Syria. As a member of the second generation of missionaries, he was able to build upon foundations that missionaries before him had established. But as he developed, he moved in a direction that the ABCFM had not approved: "He was a foreigner who went native."506 Van Dyck's talents lay more in service to education and scholarship than in missionizing, as the ABCFM and later the PBCFM were aware.507 Decades of work for the Syria Mission transformed the impulsive temperament of the young mission doctor. At first, he wanted nothing more than to master the Arabic language, in order to convert the people who received his medical care. But as his enthusiasm for traditional mission work waned, he rediscovered his

scholarly and scientific roots. He recognized that could make a contribution to the cultural awakening of Syria, his second home. Liberal thought and secular education became an important component of his missionary work.508

uSSama maKdiSi argues that Van Dyck's influence was overshadowed by the "militant enthusiasm of new Protestant missionaries."509 This assessment may be true of the early decades, when Van Dyck was closely associated with the mission. However, the Arab world's image of a successful Cornelius Van Dyck had less and less to do with the American mission. Van Dyck attained a position of great respect in Syrian society. He was considered a patron of the *nahḍa*, and all510 who worked with him honored him deeply for his talents and his engagement on behalf of the Syrian people. In the end, not much remained of the "missionary" Van Dyck. To borrow Makdisi's metaphor, it could be said that Van Dyck's influence as a scholar completely overshadowed his abilities and convictions as a missionary. Van Dyck remained a pious man and passionate preacher until the end of his life. Anderson could not imagine a better man for the pulpit than the mission doctor with perfect Arabic.511 Nevertheless, he did not fit the description of a typical missionary. He did not come from the milieu of a New England theological seminary,512 but instead he had devoted his youth to science and rational thought. He did not allow his personal religious convictions to interfere with his work as a scientist.513 This did not mean, however, that he would give up his Christian principles if they ever conflicted with science.514 Overall, as he affirmed in his last sermon at the SPC, he was convinced that correct science and true faith were gifts from God, and "two things that are true cannot contradict one another" (*fa-lā yumkin an yatanāqiḍā mā zālan ṣādiqīn*).515 The tightrope walk between personal spirituality and rational liberal thought was the secret for Van Dyck's success in Syria. Despite his work as a doctor and teacher, and the many people who frequently sought his advice,516 Van Dyck preferred the

 On March 1, 1874, Daniel Bliss wrote to his wife Abby: "We had a very interesting sermon this morning from Dr. Van Dyck. He was truly eloquent. He stood out in the broad platform, with his small Testament in hand, and poured forth the truth with an animation accompanied with gestures unusual for him. … Some of the Maronite young men told Faris Sahyun that such preaching would make all Protestants." See Bliss, *Letters from a New Campus*, 209.

514 Ibid., 179.

retreat of his own study.517 He instructed his students that "intolerance cannot be tolerated."518 Engaging with science to learn more about the world, to whatever extent, was part of human nature. Van Dyck was not a scientist renowned for new discoveries. Most of his books were compilations of different sources; their distinction was being written in a comprehensible Arabic. At the time, one needed an unusually wide vocabulary and numerous reference works in order to understand the classical Arabic works of centuries past. Van Dyck's books, by contrast, were intended for the average reading public.519 He is rightly known not just for "popularizing" knowledge, but for "humanizing" it.520 Yusuf al-Asir, who assisted Van Dyck with the translation of the Bible, told his daughter several years after his death: "Your father taught me, by his published writings, that it is possible to write good Arabic, correct in grammar and in idiom, in a style so simple and so clear as to be easily understood by an intelligent reader, whether learned or unlearned."521

His textbooks were pathbreaking and widely used not only in Syria, but in Egypt as well. Familiarity with his writings extended beyond Christian circles. Van Dyck's works were well regarded at Cairo's Al-Azhar University, and also by Muslim reformers such as Muhammad Rashid Rida and Muhammad ʿAbduh.522

Van Dyck adopted traditional Syrian dress early on,523 and he spent more than two-thirds of his life in Syria. The same was true for many of his mission colleagues, but Syrians did not say that his colleagues seemed like one of them.524 The ABCFM's limited resources rarely allowed its missionaries to leave the field in order to travel home. Van Dyck asked Rufus Anderson many times for permission to travel back to the United States. Not only did he seek to recuperate physically from overwork; he also feared losing his connection to America. In 1852, he wrote to Boston:

I consider such a visit desirable in order that I may become re-Americanized. I find that I have already lost a large part of my American notions, feelings and sympathies. I have become very much Syrianized, and cannot say that I feel it be much of an acquisition. I no longer feel that interest in American affairs, or even in the affairs of the Board which I once felt and which every missionary ought to feel.525

Jessup reported that shortly before his death, Van Dyck said: "I have made a great mistake. I should have improved my regular vacations. I have lost touch with the American Church and American life."526 Given their living and working condi-

tions, some missionaries did begin to identify with their new culture to a greater or lesser degree.

A particular event attests to Van Dyck's celebrity among the Syrian population, as well as among many religious groups and Ottoman politicians. As already mentioned, the year 1890 marked his fiftieth anniversary in Syria. Hardly an Arabic newspaper in Beirut did not report on the milestone. Although Van Dyck usually did not care for such festivities, he was overwhelmed by the response.527 He received official visits for days. The missionaries presented him with a bound collection of his Arabic works.528 The Kaiserswerth deaconesses, with whom he had a good relationship,529 came to pay their respects along with several students, as did members of the native Protestant church and a committee of the "Sons of Syria and Egypt." On behalf of the latter organization, John Wortabet prepared a speech for Van Dyck, keeping the honoree's love for simple but aesthetically pleasing language in mind, so "that it should contain none of the extravagant Eastern expressions which are so painful and often shocking to our severer, simpler tastes."530 Van Dyck received a letter of congratulations from the Greek Orthodox patriarch of Antioch, and an imperial medal from Sultan ʿAbul Hamid II in recognition of his humanitarian, scientific, and literary accomplishments.531

Five years later, the newspapers were once again full of articles about the famous American. This time, however, they were death announcements.532 On Novem ber 13, 1895, Van Dyck passed away at the age of seventy-seven.533 In the *Muqtataf*, Yaʿqub Sarruf and Faris Nimr wrote that Van Dyck was among the most important persons who came to Syria from abroad. Alongside many others, he had encouraged Syria's scientific and literary awakening.534

It was not easy for the Syrians to accommodate Van Dyck's specific request that no eulogies be delivered at his funeral, with the poetic and often very moving language that was typical in the Arab world. Many did compose written eulogies, which were eventually published in a special volume by Iskandar al-Barudi, Van

Dyck's colleague at the SPC.535 About a week after Van Dyck's funeral, Henry Harris Jessup coordinated memorial services in different congregations throughout Syria; "in all these places men of all sects, Oriental Christians, Moslems and Druses were among the hearers."536

535 Jessup, *Fifty-Three Years in Syria*, vol. 1, 110. 536 Jessup, *Fifty-Three Years in Syria*, vol. 2, 613–14.

# CHAPTER III

# THE COMMUNITY OF SYRIAN PROTESTANTS IN THE CONTACT ZONE1

The missionaries … are always referred to as the sole founders of this or that school or university, as though they had done this entirely independently and alone. Not enough credit for the creation of modernity has ever been given to those who pressed them to open schools, send their children, gave them the land,2 built the buildings, taught in the schools, and in general participated in the enterprise.3

For this reason, mission studies have recently devoted more attention to the biographies of native converts. Those who adopted the missionaries' faith and supported their work have often been overshadowed by the accomplishments of Western missions.4 The exotic "other" was often the subject of unusual or entertaining stories,5 but religious and non-religious travel literature of the nineteenth century rarely depicted members of native populations as well-rounded individuals.6 The Syria Mission is a typical example, as the lives of its native missionaries, teachers, translators, and helpers are often difficult to reconstruct. Historical sources rarely contain more than general statistics7 or uplifting descriptions of conversion experiences.8 The

*Missionary Herald* did report thoroughly on the story of Asʿad al-Shidyaq, an early convert. He was imprisoned by the Maronite patriarch and died in captivity in 1830, becoming the mission's first martyr.9 Here, too, his religious reorientation overshadowed his broader identity.10 Other significant depictions include Henry Harris Jessup's *Women of the Arabs* (1874), with three chapters on the Syrian Protestants Luciya Shikkur, Rahil ʿAta and Miryam Nahass, as well as his book *Kamil Abdul Messiah El Aietan*y (1898). In these biographies, Jessup sought to present the social and familial problems that converts faced in an exciting and entertaining way.

American missionaries assumed the leading role in official representations of the mission. Their native colleagues were usually identified as "native helpers" – or less often, as "native assistants" – although many were graduates of mission schools, or had attended other well-known Christian colleges in Syria. Butrus al-Bustani, Tannus al-Haddad, and Elyas Fawaz worked for the mission for decades, yet many reports in the *Missionary Herald* referred to them simply as "native brothers," or used only their initials, which meant they remained anonymous to American readers.11 As defined over decades, the delegation of responsibilities within the mission suggested a permanent mentor-student relationship. This justified the necessity of the missionaries' presence,12 as well as their control over the development of Protestant Christianity in Syria. The biographies of Bustani and Wortabet illustrate how difficult it was for native colleagues to break free of their assigned roles and be accepted as the missionaries' equals.

Minutes from annual conferences and the missionaries' regular meetings clearly demonstrate that native colleagues did not participate. If a native colleague wanted to bring a matter before the mission, a written request was presented by one of missionaries, and it was discussed in the requester's absence. A further point of contention for Bustani and Wortabet was their employment by the mission, not the

mission periodicals featured many more stories about converts than Catholic journals. See Wu, "Narratives of Conversion," 79–80.

 The same was true of reports written by Danish and German missionaries in the Tranquebar Mission, particularly from the nineteenth century on (Liebau, *Die indischen Mitarbeiter der Tranquebarmission*, 95), as well as for the ABCFM mission in Ottoman Bulgaria (Reeves-Ellington, *Domestic Frontiers*, 128–30).

12 Hauser, "Waisen gewinnen," 28: Reports by Theodor Fliedner and the Kaiserswerth deaconesses knowingly perpetuated stereotypes and descriptions of the Syrians that appeared to confirm the missionaries' superiority, thereby justifying the mission project.

ABCFM,13 which meant that they were not considered equal participants within the Syria Mission. Instead of being paid by the ABCFM, their income depended in part upon donations that came from American Bible societies.14 The amount of their compensation was another problem. While the Americans received an annual income of between \$800 and \$1,000, native helpers (depending upon their assignment) received only \$100 to \$300.15

The actual people whom the mission sought to address often assumed a subordinate role in the missionaries' correspondence. The missionaries' personal experiences, and problems associated with the mission's operations, received the most attention. Syrian helpers – almost always men – were mentioned only in passing. None of the historical documents include a list of native converts, colleagues, or helpers – not even for a particular period of time. The list in appendix II is intended to help identify Syrians who worked with the mission.

Only in the early years of the twentieth century did Syrian Protestants who worked for the mission (and in some cases, served as leaders) begin to receive more official recognition. On the one hundredth anniversary of the American Mission Press in 1922, the American missionary George Ford wrote:

It need not be said, to be surely and fully known, that it has not been the American missionaries who have done the bulk of this work. They would have been powerless and helpless but for the capable and reliable men of the country who have done most of the work and done it well.16

In addition to the traditional work of the mission, the growth of an indigenous Protestant community was supported by two phenomena that should not be neglected. First, there were a growing number of marriages within the emerging Protestant circle. Second, it was common for mission families to take in Syrian girls who were orphaned or destitute.17

Intermarriage within the Syrian Protestant community was supported by the growing sense of community that developed through a common religion and affiliation with the mission,18 although it also meant breaking with previously held traditions.19 Butrus al-Bustani, once a Maronite, married Rahil ʿAta. She grew up with the family of Eli Smith, and she rejected the wishes of her own family that she marry within the Greek Orthodox tradition.20 After the death of her first husband Jacob Gregory, John Wortabet's mother Susan married the Protestant deacon Elyas Fawaz. Salome Carabet, daughter of the convert John Carabet, grew up within the Protestant community and eventually married John Wortabet, whose connection to the mission began when he was a child.21

The willingness of the missionary families Smith, Whiting, Van Dyck, Calhoun, and De Forest to take in Syrian girls reflected a practice that was common among missions, as marilyn booth describes: "Because missionaries viewed the family as key to conversion, and women as key to the family, it was thought that the most efficient means of instilling the missionaries' brand of belief in the field was to train young girls in missionary homes."22 As with the five girls (Salome and Melita Carabet, Hanni Wortabet, Rufka and Sada Gregory) taken in by the Whitings,23 Syrian foster children were useful helpers in schools and congregations, eventually working as teachers themselves or marrying Syrian Protestant husbands.24 Missionaries' wives were thought to be better models of wives and mothers than the girls' own mothers, from whom they had been separated.25 The missionaries' wives, in particular, often grew quite fond of the new family members, whom they viewed as adoptive children.26 However, the missionary families and biological parents did not always agree upon the terms of this "adoption." This could be seen in the interactions between Matilda Whiting and Susan Wortabet (John Wortabet's mother), who did not want to place her daughter Hanni in the Whitings' care, as lindner describes in her study:

Her unequal status was emphasised during Susan's conflict with Matilda Whiting. The missionaries assumed that Susan would automatically and unreservedly place her daughter Hannie under Matilda's care and were shocked when Susan refused to do so. Despite Susan's contestation however, Hannie was relocated to Jerusalem and resided with Matilda Whiting.27

Among the missionary families, as well as in the mission schools, the children grew up within the context of a Western Protestant value system. A new generation of Syrian children grew up moving between two different cultures. The missionaries did not find that all of the Syrian Protestants who attended American schools were suited for the mission's Protestant community, but these students nonetheless contributed to cultural and educational change within Syria. lindner calls this group the "Protestant Levantine community."28 In the eyes of the mission, these Protestants lacked piety and spirituality, trading on the Americans' reputation to gain wealth and prestige.29 John Wortabet's brother Gregory, who also attended the Beirut seminary for boys, was never regarded by the missionaries as a suitable candidate for preacher. They were even more upset by his ambitious but secular career path that brought him to England and the United States.30 Establishing an independent identity outside the "cradle of the mission" became a recurring source of conflict for self-assured Syrian Protestants. The missionaries promoted freedom of thought and emancipation from false Christian traditions – within the boundaries set by the American mission. Divergent theological views or life plans that disregarded the mission were deemed inacceptable, leading inevitably to exclusion from the mission, if not from the indigenous Protestant community. The missionaries complicated Syrian Protestant intellectuals' reflections on their own religious and intellectual culture. On one hand, the missionaries demanded that Syrian Protestants break completely with their former religious traditions. These traditions were viewed as depraved, despite their close association with cultural identity. On the other hand, the missionaries discouraged Syrian Protestants from adopting the habitus of Western culture, in order to avoid "denationalization" and the loss of indigenous cultural identity.31 anne folKe henninGSen writes that those

who were influenced by the missionaries repeatedly found themselves in a "double bind situation."32 Drawing upon the example of Moravian missionaries in South Africa, she notes that their converts were "never quite 'white' enough and never quite 'native' enough to be properly categorised and dealt with accordingly."33 This was certainly true of Syrian converts as well. Parallels with John Wortabet can be found in henninGSen'S observations about the South African pastor William S. Mazwi. Mazwi saw himself as equal to the European missionaries ("Sir, remember you are a minister and I am also a minister"), adopting what henninGSen calls a "strategy of sameness."34 John Wortabet's conflict with the American mission was likewise characterized by his call for equal treatment. Parallels are also apparent in the missionaries' views and behavior towards Eastern Christians.35 Like many other converts,36 John (whose real name was Yuhanna) accepted the Anglicization of his name and used it for signing English documents. Anglicized names were not merely expeditious; they also became a part of many Syrian Protestants' identities. It was not unusual for Syrian Protestants to give their children the names of missionaries, or the names of missionaries' wives and children, as a sign of their regard for the American mission.37

Did the Syrians whose lives were shaped by their education at American schools become "hybrid objects" with both "native knowledges" and "the knowledges of cultural authority," as defined by homi bhabha?38 If they appeared Western but did not renounce their origins, which culture did they feel was their own? The mission-

Eastern churches that offended the missionaries, not the culture itself, as evident with Smith and Van Dyck.

 The missionaries' behavior towards the converts reflects Bhabha's description of the colonial subject as a "mimic man" who resembles the colonizers but is not accepted as their equal. (*The Location of Culture*, 87) (2000), 129.

aries did not want converts to become Westernized, nor did they encourage freedom of thought that was independent of their own ideology. Nevertheless, the Americans unknowingly promoted the merging of cultures, as is evident with Bustani and Wortabet. The integration of different intellectual and cultural influences was a widespread phenomenon of the nineteenth-century world, which was characterized by upheaval and the continuation of the Enlightenment.39 The new cultural contacts were irreversible, and since influence flowed in both directions (as with Smith and Van Dyck), they should not be dismissed as hegemonial or cultural imperialist. Syrian Protestants, both male and female, chose to adopt Western Protestant forms of thought and behavior. In many cases, Syrian girls decided for themselves to stay with mission families. Syrian boys and men profited from the education and lessons in industriousness that they received at mission schools.40 In a formal sense, Syrian converts were alienated from their upbringing, since their excommunication or departure from their home church created a division within their own family. On the other hand, they found refuge and security within a new faith community, without having to distance themselves entirely from their upbringing or heritage.41 In acquiring new values, they developed a kind of hybrid cultural identity. The following sections will depict the insights gained by Bustani and Wortabet throughout this process.

# III.1. "A MAN AHEAD OF HIS TIME"42? MUʿALLIM43 BUTRUS AL-BUSTANI (1819–1883)

#### 1. Biographical overview

Butrus al-Bustani was born in Dbayye, northeast of Sidon, in November 1819. Members of his family44 had served within the Maronite church for generations, and Bustani himself attended the ʿAyn Warqa seminary in Ghasta. He learned Arabic, Syriac, Italian, and Latin at the seminary, and he later taught there as well. He left the school in 1840 in order to go to Beirut, where he came into contact with the American mission and converted soon thereafter. In 1841, the missionaries hired

him as a private Arabic teacher and co-worker at the seminary in Beirut.45 Around this time he met Rahil ʿAta, who had lived with and received her schooling from different mission families since she was a child.46 They married in 1843 and had nine children.47

Between 1846 and 1848, Bustani directed the ʿAbeih seminary with Cornelius Van Dyck and wrote several textbooks. He was among the founding members of the native Protestant church in Beirut, and was a member of its council of elders until 1878.48 Although Bustani received theological training from the missionaries, he decided against ordination and instead pursued a successful career as a translator, author, and journalist. He was a key figure of the Syrian *nahḍa*, and today he remains one of the best known Syrian scholars of the nineteenth century. On May 1, 1883, he died of a heart attack, "pen in hand, surrounded by his books and manuscripts."49 (Figure 7)

# 2. "May [he] live as burning and shining light … in this dark land"50: Bustani's work for the mission

When Bustani came to Beirut at the age of 21, the missionaries were at first much more interested in his abilities than in winning him over to the Protestant faith, as was the case with many native helpers.51 With his education at ʿAyn Warqa, Bustani was assured of a good career within the Maronite church – similar to Asʿad al-Shidyaq, Jacob Wortabet, and Bishop Dionysios Carabet, who had served the

*Figure 7: Butrus al-Bustani*

church before working for the American mission.52 There were a number of circumstances that likely brought him to Beirut in 1840. The withdrawal of Egyptian troops eased the political situation in the region, encouraging many people to come to the city from the mountains.53 Bustani's widowed mother could keep him from being sent to Rome for additional training since she needed his help to support herself and her other two sons. Thus, the young Syrian probably went to the city to look for work.54 Henry Harris Jessup's explanation, which was published after Bustani's death, should be read with caution. According to Jessup, Bustani discovered the

doctrine of justification while reading the New Testament in Syriac; he then fled to Beirut, where he sought protection in Smith's house for two years, "lest he be shot by spies of the Maronite Patriarch."55 On one hand, it is not surprising that, in the eyes of the missionaries, Bustani's move was driven by a search for religious meaning that led him to the missionaries. On the other hand, Bustani could only have met Smith in 1841, when Smith returned from the United States.56

Whether it was practical or religious motivations that brought him to Beirut, Bustani seemed to be looking for new challenges after ten years of studying and then teaching at ʿAyn Warqa. Only a year after his arrival in the city, Bustani had already distanced himself from his home church. While the Maronite patriarch attempted to win him back, he composed a tract about the corruption of the papacy.57 Bustani converted between 1843 and 1844 and accompanied William M. Thomson and Cornelius Van Dyck (with whom he had been close friends since 1841) to ʿAbeih, in order to establish a mission station and school.58 In 1845 the mission sent him to Hasbeiya, where a growing number of villagers wanted to renounce the Greek Orthodox faith and needed the mission's support. Under Bustani's leadership, the town's new school became the most disciplined and orderly of all the mission schools.59 Eli Smith befriended the talented young man in 1841. A close relationship developed between the two, with Smith assuming the role of mentor and supporter.60 In 1845, Smith wrote about the young Syrian:

[He] is remarkable for his sprightliness … he showed a good mind, susceptible of serious impressions, and he particularly distinguished himself by the ease and perfect accuracy with which he committed to memory the Assembly's Catechism. In decision and boldness as a Protestant, he was surpassed by none.61

Due to animosities with the Greek Orthodox patriarch, the situation in Hasbeiya was tense. For a while Bustani was there by himself because he did not think that the presence of foreign missionaries was advisable, as he wrote: "Not that you would be in personal danger, but your presence would more and more incense the Greeks; and if any disorders should occur, the missionaries would be blamed as disturbers of the peace."62 The mission followed Bustani's advice, showing once again how much the Americans depended upon their native colleagues. The young Syrian from Dbayye soon became one of the few highly promising native candidates for pastoral office.63 Bustani led the committee of native Protestants that met several

British army. Smith wrote that Bustani gradually became more familiar with English. See Smith to Anderson (Beirut, December 31, 1842): ABC 16.8.1., Vol. 1 (159).

times in 1847 and 1848, in order to draft a petition for founding the Beirut Church. One particular passage in the document sounds as if only the Protestant faith could overcome the country's confessional rivalries:

We were indeed of different sects: Greeks, Greek Catholics, Latins, Maronites and Armenians: but we have abandoned all the animosities and jealousies existing between the sects, wishing them no more to be mentioned among us, inasmuch as we have become members of one body in Christ … all believers in him should be one in faith and love.64

Parallels with Bustani's writings from the 1860s and 1870s, about patriotism and peaceful coexistence (see below), are unmistakable. The Protestant faith seemed to offer a chance for harmony and a sense of unity. It had already become clear that Bustani's encounter with the mission would have a formative influence on his thought.

The petition was composed by Bustani, Elyas Fawaz, and sixteen other converts, although not all of their names are known. The petitioners believed that a new church should be led by a pastor from their own ranks, who would of course require the mission's support "in counsel and labors … as a matter of necessity at the beginning."65

When the Beirut Church was founded between February and May 1848,66 Bustani was already being considered as Smith's assistant for the Bible translation. Bustani, who was still teaching in ʿAbeih, could not move back to Beirut until the summer of 1848.67 Because of his leading role in founding the native Protestant congregation, he must have been considered as a pastoral candidate,68 although there is no evidence of this in the historical sources. When Rufus Anderson visited the mission in Beirut in 1844, Bustani told him that he aspired to preach to others.69 As Smith later reported, however, Bustani had already changed his mind by the end of that same year:

He then claimed that, as ordination would give him a permanent character, and cut him off from ways of acquiring a living now open to him, he must have a permanent lien for an adequate support, upon our society, or upon a parish, before taking upon himself the vows of the ministry.70

Under these circumstances, Anderson responded to Smith around 1847 that Bustani should not be pushed towards ordination.71 However, Smith did not give up, and

he encouraged his student Bustani to continue his theological studies, hoping that he might change his mind. By 1850, Anderson seems to have forgotten Bustani's earlier conditions, as he once again began to push for the mission helper's ordination, rejecting the argument that Bustani did not have enough time because of the translation.72 Some missionaries thought that Bustani ought to end his work with Smith in order to devote himself to theological study, even if "this would involve the abandonment of the translation altogether." Smith countered: "I declared my belief that Butrus was not available." Did Smith hinder Bustani's ordination because of the Bible translation, or was he rather trying to protect Bustani, who still seemed uncertain about his ambitions? Smith's own answer was unclear: "I do not think he had changed the views which led him to abandon the ministry so long ago."73 To Van Dyck, it seemed like the mission was preventing the Syrian scholar's ordination. In his aforementioned letter to Anderson from 1850, in which he criticized his colleagues' treatment of the Syrian Protestant, he assumed that Bustani would become the pastor of the Beirut Church, "but whether there will not be a practical difficulty made about it remains to be seen. I have great fears that such will be the case."74 According to Van Dyck, Bustani was discouraged because the office of pastor within the native church (as defined by the mission) would not allow him enough independence so that he could dedicate himself entirely to his work.75

The insufficient compensation for Syrian employees of the mission was another sticking point for Bustani. For this reason, he sought a position as translator for the American consulate in Beirut, although he wanted to continue to work for the mission part-time. In 1851, Smith reported to Anderson that Bustani had accused Smith of preventing him from earning additional income from other activities. For this reason, Smith did not want to comment on Bustani's new plan.76 Nevertheless, a private letter from Smith to Bustani in 1850 shows that Smith did intend to speak with the consul on Bustani's behalf, recommending his student for another position.77 It seems reasonable to believe that Smith supported Bustani in all of his endeavors, but also that he might have represented this differently to the ABCFM. Van Dyck, who agreed with Bustani's decision to work for the American consul,78 wrote in October 1850 that Bustani had taken the position at the consulate.79 Smith's

statements about the matter are contradictory. In the same letter (mentioned above) that he wrote to Anderson in 1851, stating that Bustani was not even interested in becoming a pastor, he wrote a few pages later: "Indeed I think he really looks forward to being a pastor of the church at Beirut, but he is fully conscious of his superior talents, and my apprehension is that he will not give them to the pastoral office, until his expectations80 are realized. …" Finally, Smith asked Anderson: "Shall we meet his wishes?"81 After this letter, nothing more can be found on the topic in Smith's or Anderson's correspondence. The matter seemed to be put on hold. The self-assured Syrian made too many demands, and the mission wanted to maintain control over the pastoral office. In 1852, Bustani seemed resigned to the matter, declaring: "[M]y present resolution is to accept of [*sic*] no office either religious or secular that is public, for many reasons which I wish to keep to myself."82

In the following years Bustani continued his work for the mission, although he did not entirely dismiss the thought of being ordained as pastor, perhaps hoping that conditions for the office within the Syrian Protestant church would improve. In 1854, the Beirut Church asked to hire Bustani as its pastor, and the missionaries discussed the matter without him.83 After questioning Bustani about his intentions, the committee concluded that there were "insuperable objections" to pursuing the matter further. The mission's records do not reveal the arguments that led to this conclusion.84 Bustani was outraged, writing to Smith soon thereafter:

I would be … grateful if you can, provided you have the time and the will, explain to me in a clear and detailed manner the reasons behind the negative response with which you have provided the church and the impediments you found in me. A lot of unreliable rumors related to the matter have been circulating and I fear that this might result in a misunderstanding. You are well aware that this is a highly important matter that has serious consequences, including on myself, and makes room at times for people meddling in matters that do not, otherwise, concern them. Since I know that the mission must have valid reasons for this delay, and in case there is no harm in sharing them with me, I hope that you clarify them to me, so that I can provide an informed and confident answer.85

In the fall of 1854, Bustani and John Wortabet met to discuss the incident. A letter from Wortabet to Smith indicates that Wortabet served as a kind of intermediary, as Bustani felt completely misunderstood. Although he still had not been told the reasons for the refusal, Bustani suspected that the mission believed that he would be uncooperative and instead pursue a more independent pastoral role. But according to Wortabet, these fears were unfounded; both Wortabet and Bustani agreed that "missionaries are ever to be looked to, and especially during the infantile condition of the native church for consultation, advice, and direction … a certain kind and

80 These expectations had to do with higher pay, as well as being able to pursue professional ambitions in other fields.

amount of supervision ought to be conceded of the native Evangelists to the missionaries."

Wortabet emphasized that native pastors' involvement in missionary work necessarily demanded direct cooperation. This meant, however, that Syrians and Americans had to work together as equals. According to Wortabet, there were limits to this cooperation, insofar as Syrian Protestants needed to feel "that [they] hold our Commission in the Gospel Ministry from God himself and that to Him primarily [they] are accountable for the expiation of [their] office."86

With respect to the question of income, Anderson wrote in 1851: "The preaching of the gospel is a work, to be done at all hazard, and not a profession, a living, to be taken up and secured as a life estate."87 Similarly, Wortabet argued in his 1854 letter to Smith that "as soon as we consider ourselves as mere employees, we shall degrade the ministry into a profession for livings very little different from the corrupted system which we are seeking to abolish. Better form no native ministry if such is to be its character."

Bustani responded to Wortabet that he was aware of his own stubbornness; he was often reluctant to change his opinions, and he behaved without respect towards some missionaries. Moreover, sometimes he was not as reliable as he ought to be. As a "minister," he resolved to work on his failings. Bustani regretted not having the opportunity to explain himself before the mission – further evidence that such problems were never addressed together with Syrian helpers. Finally, he asked Wortabet to pass along the following explanation to the mission:

I feel it to be my duty to preach the Gospel of Christ to sinners, for this object I am ready to sacrifice worldly interests, personal views, and whatever stands in the way, that so far from falling out with the missionaries, I intend to cooperate harmoniously with them; and as my superiors in experience, knowledge and ability I will ever consider it a privilege to have access to their advice and judgement [*sic*].88

In April 1855, the members of the Beirut Church submitted a new request that the mission reconsider its decision about Bustani's ordination.89 Smith promised that they would review the case thoroughly, but he also admitted: "In the discussion then, it is my wish not to take a leading part, and I hope to be able to concur in whatever decision the Mission may arrive at." Although in 1850/51 he had kept his own opinion on Bustani's calling for spiritual office to himself, now he spoke openly and thoroughly about his concerns. Smith did not believe that his student and colleague was suited for the office of pastor in the Beirut Church. To begin, one who felt called to this office would not place conditions on accepting it.90 Smith further recognized that Bustani's strengths were secular, "and I use that word with no

obnoxious meaning, I say, rather secular, than spiritual." The members of the Beirut congregation would also realize that their spiritual well-being and preparations for God's kingdom were not Bustani's main priority, but rather his personal interests in other areas: "Would your talent and aspiration for the extension and multiplicity of labor, find scope enough within so limited a sphere to satisfy you, and make you contented?"91

Bustani and the mission had different conceptions of calling and profession. Bustani wanted to lead a congregation without having to depend on it financially, which meant earning money through other activities. Smith, by contrast, explained that a "genuine" call meant devoting oneself entirely to a congregation, and thus depending on it financially as well. Smith did not mean to condemn his friend for the work that he pursued. On the contrary – he had confidence in Bustani, and he understood that Bustani was well respected and enjoyed great influence in the city. 92

The committee's final vote cannot be discerned from the historical records. The last entry on this topic notes that Smith conversed with leading members of the Beirut Church, without indicating the outcome of the discussion.93 It can be assumed that the mission voted against installing Bustani as pastor of the native congregation in Beirut. Bustani may also have recognized that this was the right decision for the successful pursuit of his career.94 Smith's reports in the following years indicate that Bustani continued his work at the American Mission Press, particularly with the Bible translation. The affair did not mean, at least initially, that Bustani turned his back on the mission.95 Even without the office of pastor, Bustani remained a leading member of the Beirut Church (see below). After Smith's death in 1857, however, traces of the mission helper Bustani gradually disappeared from the records of the ABCFM.96 He did not continue to work on the Bible translation with Van Dyck.97 After a final letter98 to Rufus Anderson, there are no further per-

91 Ibid.

92 Ibid.

sonal writings by Bustani in the ABCFM archive. In the 1860s, the *Missionary Herald* mentioned him in conjunction with the Native Missionary Society, which he founded in 1862, as well as with his National School (*Madrasa Wataniyya*), which opened in Beirut in 1862 (see below). Bustani pursued his own goals and no longer served the American Syria Mission.99

Regrettably, almost nothing is known about the Native Missionary Society – or as tibaWi calls it, the *Jamʿiyyat Beyrut al-Injiliyya* (Beirut Bible Society).100 Jessup reported that men, women, and children (!) from the Protestant community were among its approximately two hundred members.101 Its meetings took place on the first Monday of every month. As president of the Native Missionary Society, Bustani102 even wrote to the mission about its work. Like the Syria Mission itself, the society sent its own missionaries to different regions, commissioned colporteurs, and published a monthly *Missionary Herald* in Arabic (500 copies per issue).103 It is surprising how little the Syria Mission reported on its native counterpart, since its foremost goal was, after all, to missionize the land with native assistance.104

Bustani was among the leading members of the indigenous Protestant community, but it seems as if the mission – and later the college – attempted to curb his influence. Henry Harris Jessup was a great admirer of Bustani, but Daniel Bliss (who later became president of the SPC) clearly begrudged Bustani's success. In one of the letters to his wife Abby, which were newly published in 1993, Bliss criticized Bustani's frequent absences from the services at the Beirut Church.

It is a great pity that such a man should be the leading man on all church matters, but no changes will be made. … The truth will prevail notwithstanding the selfishness, pride and excessive vanity of Butros and all like him. So it has been in all ages of the church, those who seem to be the most powerful, the most influential are the feeblest elements in the church if not counted absolute hindrances.105

When the Ottoman pasha ordered the American press to close in 1874,106 Bustani used the opportunity to write an inflammatory article against foreign influences – particularly foreign schools, as Bliss reported:

The whole city is discussing his meanness in doing it – when his position in society has been made by his connection with Americans. He has lost character in this. Some of our students are full of wrath and will show him up if not in the Beirut papers of the Constantinople Arabic paper, through some articles which they will get published and circulate. He is a bad, bold man – a stumbling block. He is not nearly so well liked as formerly.107

Bustani's discouragement with foreign schools may have had to do with the failed cooperation between his National School and the SPC, as will be described below. In the 1870s, there was apparently open disagreement between him and the mission. The mission was able to avoid closing its press, despite the pasha's order that it be temporarily shut down. According to Bliss, Bustani nonetheless spread the word that the press had closed and had to pay a fine. Bliss regretted that Bustani remained a leader of his church, stating that Bustani

has lost friends by this last move of his but will gain back all the feeble minded ones. I think just as much of him as I have for years – I shall stand firm if all forsake him! He is a bad man. This Church will go to pieces if he rules it much longer. Neither Dr. Thomson nor Dr. Jessup have the courage to *take the Bull by the horns*. It is too bad to take up so much space in my letter with the Pasha and Bustany.108

No one was more critical of Bustani than Daniel Bliss, although Bustani's prominence was apparently a thorn in the side of many missionaries. As an active church elder, he presumably hindered the mission's continued influence over the native congregation. Because of a lack of sources, however, further evidence is unavailable. On June 21, 1878, Bustani attended his last council meeting at the Beirut Church. For unknown reasons, he withdrew his involvement from the Syrian Protestant congregation.109

#### 3. *Al-Madrasa al-Wataniyya*: A model of secularism and national pride

In *Fifty-Three Years in Syria*, Henry Harris Jessup recalled that a Mrs. Watson from England had opened a boys' school with money from a London committee around September 1862.110 The school was located in Bustani's house in the Beirut neigh-

106 More on this incident in chapter I, section 2.5.

107 Daniel Bliss to Abby Bliss (March 16, 1874), in: Bliss, *Letters from a New Campus*, 225. Unfortunately, the editor did not identify the article under discussion.

108 Daniel Bliss to Abby Bliss (March 18, 1874), in: Bliss, *Letters from a New Campus*, 227.

109 NECB minutes (June 21, 1878), 32.

110 There are contradictory statements about the year that the school was founded. Secondary literature frequently mentions 1863, as does that year's annual report (see ABC 16.8.1., vol. 6 [33]). Butrus al-Bustani's article in *al-Jinan* (vol. 4, 1873, 626) and Jessup's memoirs (*Fifty-Three Years in Syria*, vol. 2, 484) identify 1862 as the year of the school's founding.

borhood Zoqaq al-Blat.111 Soon thereafter, Bustani assumed responsibility for the approximately thirty boys, naming the institution the "National School" (*al-Madrasa al-Wataniyya*).112 According to the Syria Mission's annual report from 1863, there were already 115 students by the end of the year.113 To learn more about this school, one must turn to the few eyewitness account that remain.114 Minutes, annual reports, and student rosters – all of which the *Madrasa Wataniyya* certainly had – can no longer be found and are presumably lost.

Initiative for the school probably did not come from Mrs. Watson alone, but rather from Bustani,115 who had many years of teaching experience in ʿAyn Warqa, as well as at the seminaries in Beirut and ʿAbeih. Since 1856, he was both a member and secretary of the supervisory board for the English Lebanon Schools.116 He developed course plans for these schools, as well as for the school founded by the Druze governor (*mutaṣārrif*) of Mount Lebanon, Dawud Pasha, in ʿAbeih in 1862. Here he earned the honorary title *muʿallim* (master/teacher), which stayed with him for the rest of his life.117