Papers Relating to the Foreign Relations of the United States, With the Annual Message of the President, Transmitted to Congress December 2, 1895, Part II
Mr. Terrell to Mr. Olney.
Constantinople, December 29, 1895. (Received Jan. 13.)
Sir: I have the honor to call your attention to the inclosed copy of a letter from —— ——, dated Marash, November 28, which contains a graphic statement of the horrible events there during last month, and which shows the heroism of American womanhood during the massacres. Such letters I send as I can, to keep your Department informed of facts, chiefly valuable as historical data and illustrative of the methods by which the Armenian troubles are being disposed of.
I have, etc.,
Copy of a letter from —— ——.
* * * * * * *
For four weeks we have been having a reign of terror. Armenians were shot down at sight in the streets, shops and houses were laundered, children disemboweled (I know of two), men’s heads put on poles or used as balls in the streets, and every other horrible thing. We were powerless to do anything, but had no fear of our personal safety until the 18th, when we saw all the different parts of the city where Armenians are in flames. The sound of guns continually and the sight of the mobs told us a massacre had begun. We took the girls and ran quickly over to the —— yard, and were not a minute too soon. I think I have told you about the situation of our premises before. We are the last in the city to the north. There are mountains back of us, [Page 1435] and the city is on land sloping away to the south so we can look down over it. Everybody here has a wall of some kind around the yard. Ours is of the better class; of course, of mud, brick, and stone, from 8 to 12 feet high. However, it would not keep anyone out who wanted to get in, for it is not built to stand much. Well, our college ya d is at the west, then a lane, and then the theological seminary yard, as large as from your house to the road; then another lane, then the —— yard. There are high, strong doors in the wall, and a beam of wood to draw across and lock. When we got over to the last yard they broke into the one we had just crossed and commenced plundering two buildings of ours there. They were occupied by a native professor and his family, who took care of a great number of boys here to be educated. It is the academy—a part of our work here.
Now, in this country they don’t have places where you can buy wheat flour and other provisions any time in the year, so the people have to store it away in their houses for the whole winter. The premises were ours, of course. The city was filled with soldiers—10,000 they were going to send for, perhaps only two-thirds of that number were here. The greater number were drawn up in line around the city to see that no resistance should be made, and the Arab soldiers were let loose on the people. Now, I have seen some pretty bad faces since coming here, but those Arabs in their barbaric dress looked more like devils incarnate than anything I ever saw pictured as a fiend. I can give you no idea of them. Our seminary yard was full and they were carrying away everything from the professor’s house. And without the exception of a pin, I mean everything.
We were peeping through a shutter and saw them seize the woman and hold a sword over her. She pulled herself away, pointed to another part of the yard where there was a cave and ran away. They rushed to the cave, dragged out two theological students, shot them over and over again, and then held them up and hacked them with a sword, but finally left them to help carry away plunder. There were several native houses looking over the walls and we could see the soldiers in them all. Ten people had fled to us, so that in the two houses in the —— yard there were 200, mostly women.
The fray became wilder. They set fire to the theological seminary, and we had no more hope of living then. Well, it seemed madness to think of hope. We knew that they would leave no foreigner alive to testify to that day’s work; but the bloody work and pillage dragged on for eight hours. They had to carry things quite a distance to the barracks. There seemed to be some kind of order among them, different bands coming at different times, but some there all the time. It came to me that this was God’s way of helping this poor land. If we were killed, of course America would have a hand in this question, and we had come here to give our lives for them anyway; only, instead of dragging out long years of weary and imperfect labor, it was to be one great sacrificial day. I don’t think I prayed much to be spared. It seemed so sure that we were not to be, and I dared not ask anything more than that His will might be done, I thought of all the dear friends who had done so much to make my life happy, and I thought of the things I had left undone and the things done amiss. Oh, how trivial things look when one is facing eternity that seem so important at other times!
It was as much my last hour as any I shall ever face. The seminary was flaming near us; the smoke came up from the city and, with the coming darkness, was closing over us like a funeral pall. I had said, [Page 1436] “They will send a larger detachment here, because they may think we will resist;” and just as the last had left the seminary yard, behold, as if by magic, the street was full of Arabs, each with his gun ready to fire. My associate turned from the window quietly toward me and said, “They have come.” I also turned to go downstairs and be with my dear girls at the last. Oh, if it was nothing worse than death awaiting us at the hands of those fiends! There was loud knocking and voices—friendly voices. What did it all mean? Someone opened the gate and women were coming in and our native professor. Had I gone mad? I did not faint, but I will not answer for what would have happened if I had not seen them bearing in the wounded theological students. I rushed past Miss B. saying, “Go to the girls, I must attend to their wounds.” They brought one into the kitchen and another in another room. The native mattress is thick, and they put it on the floor—there are no bedsteads here but ours—and the room filled to overflowing with men mourning in a truly oriental fashion. It was no use to tell them to get out; I had to use physical force to put them out. Someone called out, “It is a guard!”
I built a fire and rolled bandages and tore away the clothing almost while I am telling it. They were cold, terribly cold, from the loss of blood, and in a few moments more the stove covers were wrapped in paper and cloths and put by them, and brandy and laudanum followed. One Samuel Hoja had the viscera protruding from his side, and I saw that death was near. He said he had not so much pain now, but was cold and tired—so tired! He insisted it was the only wound he had, but I could see others cut to the bone, but they were not bleeding. I did all I could for his comfort and rushed back to Still one, the Greek. My! And such a brave fellow as he was! The number of shots and cuts he had was a curiosity, and his clothes were soaked in blood! Yet three of his wounds escaped by a fraction of an inch of being fatal. A bullet struck a rib and, glancing, went out 2 inches beyond; his foot was shot through, but no bones broken, while a great gash in his head showed plainly how dulled the sword had become. His hands and foot had bad gashes, too. The blood had covered him and dried on so that he was a dreadful sight. He kept telling me that he was going to live—to go to Samuel; but wouldn’t I give him some more of that medicine, “laudanum.” I got his wounds pretty well dressed, left a schoolmate working at his head and hair, and went to Samuel.
Turning him to put a bandage firmer, I found my arms and hands saturated with blood. The bullet had come out the center of the small of his back. It was a bloody baptism I can never forget. He begged me to give him hope, called for his mother, and spoke to his Savior, and after hours—near midnight—he died, or rather began to live. Both were young men of 25 or 26, college graduates, and would have become ministers when they finished here. I closed his eyes and hurried back to Stillione. His foot had troubled me greatly, for I could not stop the bleeding, and I told him I must sew it. Washing some of the blood from my hands, I proceeded with embroidery silk to take two deep stitches. I heard him grate his teeth, but that was all. I had kept the room very hot for his benefit, and took such a severe cold that I was confined to my bed several days. Next day the army doctor came. He was a Greek, too, and a Ohristain. He told of some cases he had— houses full of the wounded, and scenes to wring a heart of stone. Stillione is living, and will get well we trust.
Just below us, and in plain sight, was a large house, the home of our Miss Nuritza. She was educated at the capital and speaks English as [Page 1437] we do, and is one of the sweetest girls I ever knew. She is our teacher, and her mother, a widow, had been our teacher, too. Miss Nuritza was with us, but her mother, grandmother, grandfather, uncle, and his family were in the house. She stood at her window here and heard the mob beating down the gates, heard the shots, and every single one above named was killed; the aunt only escaped with her little girl who was murdered. Then the house was plundered of everything and burned with their bodies. Next to them was an Armenian merchant. His wife was the daughter of the richest man in the first church. (He was killed and mutilated, to begin with, four weeks before.) This woman’s husband was killed, the house robbed and burned, and she was there quieting her hungry children.
But there are hundreds and hundreds. The people have mattresses on the floor and quilts which they fold and put into niches in the wall. Of course they were all taken, and their dishes, clothes, provisions— every single thing.
Many times houses were not burned because they were near Moslem dwellings. Two Armenian churches were burned, in one of which women and children had taken refuge. They were all lost, of course.
The Government has had experience in burning American property in Turkey before, and they invariably have to pay; so, when our building was burning they made up their minds after all not to have any more damage done to our property. They seemed to be so intent on plunder that they did not make killing their principal business at the last, but they themselves report 4,700. That is too many altogether, we think. They seemed to pick for leading men; but, for all that, spared none they could lay their hands on. There seems to have been some order to spare the women, as not many of them were killed, if not too handy, I suppose, and many were burned in the church. * * * In one place the soldiers were drawn up in line, and the bugle sounded, and they rushed to their work of plundering and murder.
Of course there is famine here already. We are doing all we can, but what is a little among so many?
Oh, if help could only come from America! I suppose our board would send a cablegram to our treasurer in Constantinople and it would be telegraphed us. It is astonishing how little it takes to keep life in the body here. I suppose 10 cents a week would do it. Oh, it is so pitiful to see our little school girls hungry, their fathers killed, their nouses gone, and dozens crowded into a miserable house, so hungry, and without fire, without shoes, beds, or bedding!