THE SACK OF KESSAB
By Stephen van R. Trowbridge.
Kessab was a thrifty Armenian town of about 8,000 inhabitants, situated on the landward slope of Mount Cassius (Arabic, Jebel Akra), which stands out prominently upon the Mediterranean seacoast, halfway between Alexandretta and Latakia. Kessab is now a mass of blackened ruins, the stark walls of the churches and houses rising up out of the ashes and charred timbers heaped on every side. What must it mean to the 5,000 men and women and little children who have survived a painful flight to the seacoast and have now returned to their mountain home, only to find their houses sacked and burned! There were nine Christian villages which clustered about Kessab in the valleys below. Several of these have been completely destroyed by fire. All have been plundered and the helpless people driven out or slain.
On Thursday, April 22, serious alarm reached the people of Kessab. It was known that a massacre of the Armenians had taken place in Antioch, 36 miles to the north, and that attacks were being planned on the Christian villages of the mountains. A parley was arranged with the Mudir (magistrate) of Ordou, the nearest seat of government, and a telegram asking for military protection was dispatched to the Governor of Aleppo. The Mudir, whose name is Hassein Hassan Agha, met the Kessab delegation halfway down the mountainside and assured them that he had already scattered the mobs that had gathered with evil intention. But his pledges soon proved to be idle tales, because that very Thursday evening he permitted crowds of armed Moslems to come into Ordou from Jissr Shoughr, Kusayr, Antioch, and even from Idlib, far to the east. Early the next morning, after entertaining the raiders overnight, he sent them on their way to the sack of Kessab. Moreover, the Mudir detained the eleven gendarmes which were ordered by the Aleppo government to protect American and Italian interests in Kessab. The Mudir instructed the gendarmes that they should remain in Ordou.
STEPHEN VAN RENSSELAER TROWBRIDGE.
Thursday evening the Kessab scouts brought word into the town that great crowds of armed Turks and Arabs had gathered in the nearest Moslem village. It was an anxious night. Before daylight, Friday morning, rifle shots told of the enemy’s advance. By three separate mountain trails, from the north, northeast, and east, thousands of armed Moslems came pouring up the valley. Their Martini rifles sent the bullets whizzing into the Kessab houses, while the shotguns of the 300 Christians who were posted on the defense could not cover the long range. It was a desperate struggle, and the Kessab men realized their straits. The plan which they thereupon made is to their honor and credit. They resolved to hold out as many hours as possible, so as to furnish time for the women and children to escape into the clefts and caves of the mountains to the south. For five hours the fusillade continued with fierce determination. By midafternoon Turks from the Antioch villages had circled around Jebel Akra on the north, so as to command a position above Kessab. The Arabs had flanked the town on the southeast. Meanwhile the vanguard of the Ordou Moslems had captured and burned the adjacent villages just below Kessab, and had set fire to three of the houses at that end of the town. Their cries and frantic threats could be heard distinctly. The women and girls gathered up the little children on their backs and in their arms, hastened along the west trail over the ridge toward Kaladouran, and clambered up into the cliffs and crevices which overlook the sea at an altitude of 5,000 feet. Some in small groups, others entirely alone, hid themselves underneath the thorny underbrush or in the natural caves. Toward evening the men had been compelled by the overwhelming odds to give up the defense. They fell back without any panic or noise. And the Turks and Arabs who rushed into the streets of the town were so seized with the lust of plunder that they did not pursue the rear guard of the Christians. Angry must have been the scenes as the plunderers fought with one another over the stores of raw silk, the chief product of Kessab. Cattle, mules, copper kettles, bedding, clothing, and rugs were carried out by the Turks in feverish haste, as one after another the houses were set on fire. Some of the aged Armenians, who had not the strength to flee, were caught in their houses and barbarously put to death. Others, who had delayed flight in order to gather up and rescue a few valuables, were likewise put to the sword. Axes and knives finished up what the rifles had spared. But the instinct to escape had been so strong among the Christians, and the greed of plunder so absorbing among the Mohammedans, that in all the day’s fray only 153 Armenians and a handful of Turks were killed.
A Kessab girl named Feride, 20 years of age, had a remarkable escape. She had gone over to the village of Ekizolook (Twin Hollows) to save the little bridal trousseau of one of her friends. It was well on in the afternoon when she had gathered up the garments into a bundle. And when she hurried out into the street to join the fugitives she found, to her dismay, that everyone had gone beyond sight and hearing. A moment more and she saw a host of Arabs rush up through the street. She dashed through several little gardens and reached the rocks and underbrush above the village. On and on she made her way without being discovered. In a deep cleft between the rocks she hid and listened. She had dropped the precious bundle, but kept in her hand her New Testament, which was more precious than anything else. As she listened and watched many Arabs and Turks ranged past the entrance to the cleft. Then came one who peered in closely. Their eyes met. He gave a cry to his comrades, “There is a maiden here!” and sprang forward. She summoned her whole strength and leaped up the side of a great rock which rises up above the village. It was a feat which no athlete could commonly have done. At first the Arab could not follow her. He cried again to his companions. They replied by shouting to one another, “Surround her! Surround her!” She was now standing on top of the rock in full sight of fifteen or sixteen Arabs, all in her pursuit. They called fiercely to her to come down. She answered in Arabic, “You may shoot me, but I will never give myself up.” Then they ordered her to throw down to them the purse she had in her hand. She told them it was not her purse, but her Holy Gospel. And she held out her hands in prayer to God. Just then the Arab who had first seen her made a spring up the side of the rock. She leaped in the opposite direction down into some brushwood, but was caught at the side of the rock by branches of briar. The Arab came on over the top of the rock and had reached out his arm to seize her, when a Christian young man, who had taken refuge in another part of the brushwood, fired and shot him dead. He gave a long groan, threw up his arms, and fell prostrate upon the rock. The other Moslems were startled by the unexpected shot and retreated for a time. This gave Feride time to escape into the caves farther up the mountainside, where she remained entirely alone all night and part of the next day. When I was in Ekizolook the Arab had not yet been buried. I took his headdress—a coil of black wool and the “keifiyye” which goes with it—as a trophy. Feride herself told me the story of her escape. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks flushed as she recalled the dangers through which she had passed. She said that after she was discovered in that cleft of the rocks all fear left her. A strange courage came over her, and she felt sure that God would save her from being captured.
One of the school teachers, named Mariam, was caught by the Arabs not far from where Feride had hidden. The Arab who captured her ordered her to become a Moslem. When she refused he threatened to kill two little boys she was trying to protect. Then he raised the axe which he carried and placed the edge against Mariam’s neck, threatening her three separate times. Each time she said she would never become a Mohammedan, nor deny her faith in Christ, nor surrender her honor. The Arab snatched the money which she had with her and tore off the dress and shoes which she was wearing. He told her he would make her his slave. Just then some Turks from Ordou came up and recognized among the women the wife of Dr. Apelian. The doctor had often served these Turks medically. A sharp skirmish ensued, which ended in the defeat of the Arabs. The women were that night taken in safe conduct by these Turks to a Greek house in Ordou, where they were kindly cared for until the fighting was over and they could return to Kessab.
One of the saddest experiences was that of Azniv Khanum, wife of the preacher in Kaladouran. Ten days before the massacre she had given birth to twin children, a boy and a girl. When the flight to the mountains took place she had not the strength to climb with the others, so her husband hid her and their four children among the rocks near the edge of the village. The babies were wrapped in a little quilt and the other children clung to their mother, while the father hid in a cave close by. Before long Azniv Khanum and the children were discovered by the Turks. One of the plunderers snatched up the quilt, despite the mother’s entreaties. The two babies rolled out, one in one direction and one in another, over the rough stones. Then the Turk rudely laid hold of the mother, and, holding his revolver against her breast, ordered her to become a Moslem. She bravely refused. “You are my slave,” he said, and beat her with the flat of his sword. He commenced to drag her down in order to tie her on his horse. Her foot tripped, she fell, and rolled over and over for about eight yards. There she lay on the rocks, bruised and exhausted, in the hot sun. The Turk seeing a chance to plunder, abandoned her. Afterwards other Turks took her money and her dress and shoes and her little girl about four years old. It is wonderful that she lived through it all. One of the little babies lived a week, the other about ten days, after that. When I was in Kaladouran we buried the little boy. It was a very touching service out under the trees.
Now, to return to the narrative. Friday evening it occurred to Dr. Apelian that if he could reach the seaport of Latakia, forty miles to the south, he could telegraph for assistance by sea. With a trusty guide he set out that same evening for the house of a Moslem chief in the mountains. This Turk agreed to ride with him to Latakia, and thus give him protection along the way. Without this escort the doctor could never have made this trip. Even as it was he took his life in his hands. They arrived in Latakia at 2 o’clock at night, called the British and French consuls to Dr. Balph’s home, sent telegrams to Alexandretta and Aleppo, and at dawn notified the Mutasarrif (Lieutenant-Governor) of the attack on Kessab. Turkish soldiers were dispatched at once, and a Messageries steamer started to the rescue from Alexandretta.
Meanwhile, all day Saturday the sacking and burning went on. The large village of Kaladouran was devastated. The Moslems increased in numbers as raiders from distant villages arrived. In the afternoon Selhan Agha, captain of gendarmerie, arrived with forty cavalrymen. He joined in the sack of the town, taking for himself and his company the most valuable share of the booty, the raw silk found in the merchants’ shops. He and the cavalrymen were afterward intercepted at Idlib, on their way to Aleppo, and their saddlebags were found to be crammed full of plunder. Selhan Agha, with the forty horsemen, had been dispatched from Jissr by orders from Aleppo, Thursday afternoon, to go at once to protect Kessab from any mob violence. He could have gone in eight hours, or even less, from Jissr to Kessab. At that time the attack had not yet commenced. Instead of going directly to Kessab he went to Sheikh Keoy and spent the night there. The next day all the Moslems from that village were out on the warpath, while Selhan Agha turned far out of his way and made a sixty-mile detour to many other Mohammedan villages and to the city of Antioch. Finally he reached Kessab, forty-eight hours after receiving his orders, and when he arrived he did not stop the burning and looting, but himself became a plunderer. This whole disgraceful affair has been probed by the Aleppo Commission, and their findings substantiate all of the above statements. I have most of the evidence, however, directly from one of the gendarmes named Mehmet Ali.
BOYS’ GRAMMAR SCHOOL, KESSAB. BURNED APRIL 23-24.
By Saturday night there was not much valuable plunder left. The iron bars were wrenched out from the windows and the household pottery smashed to pieces out of sheer vandalism. As the loot became exhausted the Moslems commenced to range the mountainsides, exploring the caves, and firing into the bushes in the effort to exterminate the Christians. One woman’s husband was cut to pieces before her very eyes, and she herself was severely wounded in the side. She escaped to the deep ravines near the summit of Mount Cassius and lived on snow for twelve days. She is now in the American hospital at Latakia.
All the tradesmen’s shops and merchants’ storehouses in Kessab are burned. In fact, the whole market is in ashes. The Roman Catholic and Protestant Churches are completely burned. The latter was a spacious building, seating a congregation of 1,800. The American Mission residence, occupied by Miss E. M. Chambers, was burned; so, also, the Girls’ High School (American property), the Boys’ Grammar School, and the Protestant parsonage; 530 houses, including the homes of all the well-to-do families in Kessab, are also destroyed by fire. The 700 houses which remain, plundered, but not burned, are small one-room or two-room houses, belonging to laborers and other poor people. In Ekizolook 38 homes are burned; 22 remain. In Kaladouran 65 are gone; 135 are left. In Duz Aghaj 24 are burned; 1 remains. In Keorkine 55 are burned; 45 remain.
On Saturday one of the Latin priests, Father Sabatine, made the journey to Latakia, at considerable risk, in order to appeal for help. Whether it was by the influence of his telegrams or the ones sent twenty-four hours before by the Protestant physician, Dr. Apelian, I do not know, but at all events on Sunday morning a Messageries Maritime steamer came down the coast toward the cove at Kaladouran, at the foot of Mount Cassius. The news was carried from mouth to mouth to all the hiding places among the crags and ravines, so that within a few hours the fugitives began to pour in streams down the Kaladouran gorge to the seashore. The painfulness of that descent can scarcely be imagined. Most of the people had not had anything to eat for two days. Many of them had become separated from their families and were now plodding down toward the sea with a strange blend of hope and despair. The suffering of many of the women was severe indeed. Fourteen children were born during that flight, and the mothers had no alternative but to press onward as best they could in the wake of the multitude.
An 8-year-old little boy was captured by the Turks and carried off to become a Moslem. He was given a Mohammedan name and made to wear a little turban. He acted very demurely and kept quiet. But when a chance offered, as he had permission to go to a nearby well, he ran for dear life and got away. With an instinct as keen as that of a wild creature of the woods, he made his way among the mountains and across the maritime plain forty miles, to Latakia, where he found his mother.
The Messageries steamer took aboard about 3,000 and brought them to Latakia, where they were divided up among several churches and schools. On Monday, a French cruiser brought 4,000 more. The largest number were cared for in the grounds of the American Presbyterian Mission. The hospital was crowded with wounded and sick under the care of Dr. James Balph. Miss Elsey, the trained nurse, opened a maternity ward, and all the Americans worked hard in relief measures. The days in Latakia, under the hot sun and with the constant fear that the Turks of the town might rush in and attack them, were days of exile and hardship, in spite of all that could be done for safety and health. They gathered quietly in the evenings for prayer and for the singing of the hymns that they all know by heart. After a few days sickness began breaking out rapidly. Several smallpox cases were discovered, and the crowded conditions threatened still further disorders. The Mutasarrif, who is chief magistrate in Latakia, had from the start done everything in his power to protect and provide for these fugitives. He himself patrolled the streets at night, and, with the few soldiers at his command, dispersed the angry Moslem mobs which repeatedly made attempts at disorder. He furnished a ration of flour for all and expressed his sympathy with those who were in sorrow. When he saw the rapid increase of sickness he advised that they should all return to Kessab, and to give the people assurance of safety on the road he went with them in person. The courageous and kind-hearted action of this Turk saved Latakia, and the thousands of Kessab people sheltered there, from the dreadful event of a massacre. His conduct stands out in strong contrast with the criminal behavior of Hassein Hassan Agha, the Mudir of Ordou.
INTERIOR OF THE CHURCH IN KESSAB. SACKED AND BURNED APRIL 23-24.
Can you imagine the feelings of the Kessab people as they climbed on foot the long trail up the mountain, and then as they came over the ridge into full view of their charred and ruined dwellings? Their stores of wheat, barley, and rice had been burned; clothing, cooking kettles, furniture, and tools had gone; their goats, cows, and mules had been stolen; their silk industry stamped out; their beloved churches reduced to smouldering heaps. The bodies of their friends and relatives who had been killed had not been buried. And yet the love of home is so strong that the people have settled down there with the determination to clear up the debris and rebuild their houses. If generous gifts arrive from England and America the Local Relief Committee hopes to put into the hands of the Kessab men such tools as shall enable them to earn their usual livelihood by one of the trades or by farming. For the present food supplies and clothing must also be forwarded from Latakia and Beirut. But as soon as a man begins to earn a daily wage, no matter how small, his name is struck off the ration lists. I insisted upon this rule in the case of muleteers, who were paid for carrying up the first shipment of relief supplies. Two capable doctors are ready to give their services for the sick, but they have lost all medical and surgical supplies. It would be of the utmost benefit to furnish them with instruments and medicines. In this, as in other needs, we heartily appreciate the prompt cooperation of the Beirut Relief Committee. Miss E. M. Chambers, who was in Adana during these troubles, has now returned to Kessab. She has lost everything, but is quite ready to share the lot of the people. She is secretary for the Kessab Relief Committee, of which Dr. James Balph, Latakia, is chairman and treasurer.
On Sunday afternoon, May 23, the first preaching service for four weeks was held out under the trees near the burned church. My heart went out to the people as I spoke to them and looked into their faces. I realized then a little what they had been through during the past month. May God’s blessing be richly poured out upon them!
Supplementary Report.
For the first few weeks we were all compelled to do emergency work, the doctors to treat the wounded, the rest of us to secure flour, rice, and water for the throngs of homeless people. But now the attention of all of us is directed to construction work, providing for the industrial needs of the sufferers, rebuilding wherever possible and reorganizing the agricultural work of the peasants. For the orphan children homes are being established, chiefly by the missionaries, and for the widows whose livelihood has been cut off by the killing of husbands, fathers, and sons, the establishment of embroidery, rug making, and silk culture, the materials and tools furnished by the relief committees, the wages to be paid daily to the earners. Where many men have survived, the common trades of carpentry, masonry, stonecutting, tailoring, and weaving may be reestablished by a sufficient financial backing from relief societies. There is also great need of men to specialize in relief work and administer the large funds required. Missionaries can not rightly give up all their regular work, nor can navy officers nor consuls, but a few American volunteers, such as those sent to southern Italy and Sicily after the earthquake, could do a wonderful amount of good.
Perhaps the most effective and wide-reaching relief work thus far has been done by Dr. F. D. Shepard and his wife in the large villages of Hassan Beyli and Baghche. This American surgeon could use to excellent advantage a staff of young men from the homeland. The work of the Beirut Relief Committee in providing hundreds of the men who survived the Kessab attack with tools and implements, so that they might commence earning a living at once, deserves note as a typically American plan, financed chiefly through the generosity of the American National Red Cross. To avoid pauperizing the people is one of the most difficult feats. Here in the city of Aintab, where there has been practically no loss of life, but great economic loss and resulting increase of poverty, I have furnished some of the unemployed weavers with twelve looms for six months. Twelve stonecutters, who were out of work since April 16, I have set to work digging pits or holes in the limestone of the hospital grounds, so that trees may be planted in the pits next spring. The earth is only a few inches deep here.
Although the American people have helped very generously, the work of relief has only just begun, and a more thorough effort to put the people here on their feet again and to make kindly provision for all the helpless persons, the old women and little children, requires large plans and large appropriations from such societies as the American National Red Cross.
An English Woman’s Heroism.
Mrs. Doughty-Wylie, wife of the British Vice-Consul, in a letter to her mother, describes with the vividness of an eye witness the horrors of the last days of the rule of the late Sultan, Abdul Hamid.
Major Doughty-Wylie, a soldier who has taken part in many campaigns, was severely wounded while engaged in the work of rescue. His heroic services have won from the American missionaries laurels that will not fade. Mrs. Doughty-Wylie also, according to impartial witnesses, displayed the courage of her race, and by her devotion and energy saved many lives.
From a letter from Mrs. Doughty-Wylie we make the following extracts:
THE AMERICAN MISSION RESIDENCE. KESSAB. COMPLETELY DESTROYED.
“We are having a perfectly hideous time here. Thousands have been murdered—25,000 in this province, they say; but the number is probably greater, for every Christian village was wiped out. In Adana about 5,000 have perished. After Turks and Armenians had made peace and the Armenians had given up their arms, the Turks came in the night with hose and kerosene and set fire to what remained of the Armenian quarter. Next day the French and Armenian schools were fired. Nearly everyone in the Armenian school perished, anybody trying to escape being shot down by the soldiers.
“In the French school a large number of Fathers and Sisters, with 2,000 Armenians, were rescued by Dick (Major Doughty-Wylie). Thirty, who tried to escape, were shot. Dick found their bodies at the gate, but he got the survivors out of the schools and brought them right through the Turkish quarter without losing a soul. Altogether he got several thousand people out of the burning quarter and encamped them near our temporary dwelling.
“I have the hospital—sixty-five beds so far and about 150 outpatients requiring surgical dressings. Fifteen thousand starving people are to be fed and we are running into debt nicely.
“The Turkish authorities do nothing except arrest unoffending Armenians, from whom by torture they extort the most fanciful confessions. Even the wounded are not safe from their injustice. A man was being carried in to me yesterday when he was seized and taken off to gaol. I dare not think what his fate may be.
“Nobody is safe. They murder babies in front of their mothers; they half murder men and violate their wives while the husbands are lying there dying in pools of blood. Then they say it is the fault of the Armenians, because there existed a revolutionary society of about sixty members, who talked and wrote a good deal of rot.
“We arrived in Adana from Mersine the first day of the massacre, April 14. The murderers boarded the train. There was a rush of Armenian passengers into our compartment. While I tried to buck them up a bit Dick went and tackled an assassin who was just going to shoot somebody else. At Tarsus they murdered two men who were coming from the station just behind us. One man made a rush and gained the guardhouse, but the soldiers shoved him out and watched him done to death in the road.
“Dick got into uniform the moment he arrived, and we saw no more of him till 11 at night. He had been rescuing all the foreign subjects he could find. The following day I saw more brutal murders. An Armenian quarter near us was attacked by Arab soldiers from our guard and was practically wiped out. Their officers and one or two decent soldiers stuck to the guardhouse and took no part in the murders. The officers, at my earnest appeal, even saved some women and children—but how dreadfully shot they were.
“After an hour’s argument I got a Greek doctor to come out with me to the guardhouse and dress the wounded women and children. The room was a puddle of blood, and while we were working there a wounded Armenian, who was staggering in to be dressed, was stabbed to death by some of the soldiers. I saw many murders, and nobody seemed to care.
“The authorities did nothing, and the soldiers were worse than the crowd, for they were better armed.
“One house in our quarter was burned with 115 people inside. We counted the bodies. The soldiers set fire to the door, and as the windows had iron bars nobody could get out. Everybody in the house was roasted alive. They were all women and children and old people. It was in that part of the town that Dick was wounded. They told him that some wounded Turkish soldiers were lying among the burning houses, and he went to rescue them, which they certainly did not deserve. The house from which he was shot had a garden filled with dead women and children, and I have no doubt that some Armenian, who had lost entire family and most of his friends, shot him in a sort of mad fit, probably taking him for a Turk.
Slaughter in the Fields.
“Outside Adana every Christian village—Greek, Syrian, or Armenian—has been burned and every soul in them killed. Unfortunately, it was just before harvest, and thousands of peasants from the mountains and other districts were there to start work. From 100 to 200 men and women were murdered on every farm. Turkish farms were not burned or looted, but the Armenian servants were killed. I know of only one farmer—a friend of ours—who had the nerve to save his Armenians.
MRS. DOUGHTY-WYLIE IN UNIFORM OF ARMY NURSE ON BALCONY OF SURGICAL HOSPITAL.
“The French engineer and an English traveler gallantly did some saving. They had escorts, and the Frenchman stood a three-days’ siege and made his escort fight some Circassians to save a dozen Armenians. It was gallantly done. The Englishman, whose name is Gunter, refused to save himself unless the Armenians who had thrown themselves on his protection were saved. It was touch and go for the lot, but British pluck won and he got his own terms.
“The Germans, however, who were shut up in a place called Bagche gave up the Armenians in their house as the price of their own safety. Here the Germans are working splendidly on relief work. They are all Saxons and had a factory full of Armenians, which held out all right. When the Armenians were being brought out of the factory to the camp, as soon as things were supposed to be quiet, the soldiers started killing them. I happened to be at the guardhouse and got my little officer to go to the rescue, and all were brought in safely except three, who had been already shot.
“Things are still very unsettled. Murders and fires continue; but, of course, it is not like the first days of horror.
“We have 15,000 people starving and without shelter. All we can give them is a fragment of bread or a handful of rice. We have nothing more to give. No milk for the babies—nothing. And measles and dysentery are rife.”