Then horrible cruelties began in Adapazar. About 500 important men were imprisoned in the Gregorian church. Those belonging to the Socialist Party were mercilessly beaten. Most accepted their fate in silence, but one man said boldly: “You must answer to God in Heaven for these things.” “You have no God but me,” was the response, and the man was beaten till his feet were red with blood. “What do I care for your Mayor?” continued the Beast, as he was called: “He says you are good people, but he is no good himself. Kill me if you wish,” he continued, “but ten men will come to take my place.” A mother threw herself in front of her invalid son and herself received the stripes. A German woman tried to save her Armenian husband. “Get out of the way or I’ll beat you,” cried the Beast; “I do not care for the German Emperor himself, my orders come from Talaat Bey.” But afterwards the man was released. When I heard these things I knew it was of no use for me to try to interfere; if the Beast would not listen to a German, he certainly would not to an American.
One day two of our delicate ladies went to see the Beast—to plead, like Queen Esther, for their people—saying, by this act: “If I perish, I perish.” They found a man of fine appearance who had been educated in Europe, and who received them most politely. “We have heard bad things about you,” they said, “but[“but] now we see that you are a good man. Can’t you persuade the people to surrender their arms without beating them?” “I am glad to see you so patriotic,” he responded, “and would be glad of your assistance. You go, too, to the houses and persuade the people to give up their arms, and it will be well with them.” So these two ladies hired a carriage and drove up and down the city, exhorting the people to surrender all their arms.
For a day or two the beatings were less. Then came the awful Saturday—the day of darkness and horror. Someone came running to the school-house crying: “They are beating the men in the church to death, and are going to begin on the women next.”
I ran over to the neighbour’s house and there I found men and women crying. Two of our Protestant brethren had escaped from the church and were telling their story. “They are beating the men frightfully,” they cried. “They say they will throw us into the River Sakaria; they will send us all into exile; they will make Mohammedans of us. They are going to the houses to beat the women next.” I begged the women to come to the school and I would put up the American flag, but they did not wish to leave their houses to be pillaged, although they promised to come if necessary.
Soon after, more women came to the school, frantic to do something. “We will go to the Beast; we will go to the Mayor,” they cried, and we were all losing our heads. Then our lady doctor came. She had been to the church to care for the wounded and the tears were streaming down her face. Then one of the school trustees came. “I want you to take my money and give it to my son if I die,” he said. Then he sat down and the tears streamed down his face and mine. At last I could endure it no longer. “I am going to the church; I don’t care what you say!” I exclaimed, and I put on my hat and started. I did not know the way to the Gregorian church and everyone was afraid to show me, so I had to find my way by inquiry. “You are going to the church?” asked one man: “It is hell there.” I arrived. I walked past the guards without even looking at them, and there at the open door stood one of the trustees, Mr. Alexanian. “Can’t I speak to the police and get you out?” I asked. The other trustees had already left. “No,” he said, “I am superintendent now.”
The beatings had ceased for a time, in order that leading men might go out to search for weapons. Mr. Alexanian would write down their names as they went out, erasing them when the men returned. “I am glad I was here last night,” he continued, “for I have been able to help the poor people to-day.” How many of us would be glad of the privilege of spending a sleepless, bedless, chairless night for the sake of being useful? He told the same sad story of awful beatings. No Protestant had been beaten. The Turks have always been favourable towards the Protestants, especially in Adapazar. This trustee told how after the beatings he went outside the church and found a Turkish soldier in tears, who said he had been crying three days and nights because of the wrongs inflicted upon the Armenian people. So you see there are some good Turks. It is the Government that is responsible, not all the people.
Soon after this, an important exile returned, the father of our two sweetest kindergarten children, and the head of a society. Great anxiety was felt on his behalf, for we feared he would be hanged and we grieved for his refined and delicate wife. He answered boldly at the trial. “Why do you punish these men? If there is any fault it is mine, and yet I also am guiltless. This society was organized with the permission of the Government. You allowed us to obtain firearms.” Which was all very true. The Government was hatching a diabolical scheme to send all the Armenians into an endless exile, and wished first to disarm them.
Sunday brought new terrors but no especial troubles. On Monday the Beast left the city, and our hearts were filled with a subdued rejoicing, even though he said he would return on Wednesday. We did not believe it. We thought he had been recalled on account of his cruelties. As to the man himself, he was an ex-convict, having been implicated in a conspiracy against the Government and sentenced to a thousand years imprisonment. He was working for his liberty by carrying on this devilish work, and, to give himself courage for it, he drank heavily of the most intoxicating liquor.
During these ten days of imprisonment all Armenian shops were closed. The Armenians could not go to market to buy provisions or even to gather the produce of their gardens. Many were on the verge of starvation. On Saturday evening a few shops were opened, and we began to take heart a little. Some were fearful of exile, but I declared it would be impossible to send from twenty to thirty thousand Armenians from one city into exile, though a few would doubtless be sent. At this time the Government collected taxes from the Christians a year in advance—a bad sign. On Sunday morning I was awakened early by someone calling below my window. I put out my head and was informed that all the Armenians in Adapazar were to be sent into exile. As early as possible I went to the Mayor to intercede for the people, but it was useless. He would not even promise to protect our American property, and out of the entire city I could save only little Arousiag, who was American born.
From that Sunday onwards, the streets were full of Armenians trying to sell their possessions for a mere pittance. All was very quiet—the silence of despair. Even the Turks looked serious, for they knew that their city was financially ruined, as the Armenians are the most thrifty and skilful of all the peoples of Turkey. In spite of apparent quiet, however, robbery was not lacking. A poor servant girl was trying to sell her sewing machine—her only possession—and when she refused to sell it for four dollars, a man seized it and ran away with it. A few days later, the husband of one of our school servants was bringing their machine to our school when a man snatched it from his shoulders.