Paloo is one of the oldest cities in Armenia. It had 15,000 population,
5,000 Armenians and 10,000 Mohammedans, and there were over forty
Armenian villages in the district around. About 5,000 Christians were
killed during the recent massacre.
Personal Letters From Paloo.
December 15, 1895.
"Paloo is in a miserable condition. All the houses and shops have
been robbed. About 2,000 persons have perished, and few have
survived this great ruin; but we thank God all our family is
in safety. Just to-day I received a letter from our home; they
write: 'We are alive, but hungry.' They have no bread to eat,
and no clothes to wear; our only hope is God. If the country is
soon reformed we can get our living, but if not we shall all
perish. Turks, Kurds, and soldiers united, plundered, robbed,
and burned the houses of Paloo and the neighboring villages. You
can guess very well who has given the order."
A personal letter received by the Armenian Relief Association, in this
city, under date of Paloo, Armenia, November 24, presents an awful
picture of the horrors to which the people there are subjected. The
letter is in part as follows:--
"On November 3, the Turks of the town armed themselves, attacked
the stores, plundered their contents, and killed those who
attempted to defend themselves. A few days later the Turks left the
town, joined a band of 10,000 Kurds, and began a general assault
upon the surrounding villages, pillaging and burning the houses,
and killing all the men. They poured kerosene oil on all the
stored grain and set it on fire, and mixed the flour with filth,
so that it could not be used. The beautiful women were delivered
to the Kurds, who committed the most indescribable outrages. Many
were carried off to slavery, and forced to accept Mohammedanism.
"In Habab Village, where the people defended themselves for
six days, the government soldiers were called to the aid of the
Kurds, and the united forces overpowered the village and burned
all except fifteen of their three hundred houses.
"All of the forty-one Armenian villages around Paloo are in ashes,
the fields laid waste, and the inhabitants massacred. Nothing is
left but death and desolation.
"On November 11, 10,000 armed Kurds fell upon the city of
Paloo. They plundered the houses, even pulling down the walls with
hooks to discover anything valuable that might be hidden. All the
large houses were burned. Ten of the wealthy Armenians, who have
always cared for the poor, and sheltered the distressed, are left
without a pair of shoes or a blanket, 1,732 men were butchered
in cold blood, and of the 10,000 population, two hundred men only
are left, saved on condition that they serve the Turks as slaves.
"More than 5,000 women and children are left without any means
of living. They are begging from door to door for even a meagre
pittance of bran, which is all that is left, and every day death
claims more and more of the victims by starvation. All of the more
beautiful women have been taken by the Kurds. The Armenian youths
who have been forced to accept Mohammedanism are also forced to
take Turkish wives to prove their sincerity.
"All of my relations, save two, have been killed in my
presence. Our priests have all been butchered, except one, who
was forced to accept Islamism. Our churches have been turned into
mosques, where the remaining women and old men are compelled to
go and be taught Islam by the Mohammedan priest."
But here is another letter, from an Armenian mother to her son in
this country, which brings us still closer to the actual horrors, for
this woman was herself a victim--turned at a blow from a comfortable
matron to a naked beggar, in winter, among the ruins of her village,
her own friends killed, herself foully abused. Read this, and then
talk, if you dare, about "exaggerated accounts"!
"December 12, 1895.
"My Dear Son:--
"We received your letter dated November 14th, which we read
with great pleasure. You asked for information about us, as to
how we are, etc. Except your father, we are all still alive,
with our relatives, and long to see you very much. It is very
hard to describe with the pen all the misfortunes that we have
undergone. They cannot be told; but since you are very eager to
know, I will try to write it down for you very briefly. My dear
son, on Tuesday, November 28th, they took by force the oxen that
are used for ploughing the fields. Until the evening of that
day they gathered all the oxen for ploughing from Paloo and the
neighboring Armenian villages, and took them for themselves, and
gave us notice that they should attack the village. Wednesday
morning all the people of the surrounding Turkish villages
gathered round about our village, and our village was besieged
until about noontime. From ten to fifteen persons were killed
up to that time from our side, and the village was surrounded
by more than twenty-two thousand Turks and Kurds, who bear
arms. It was impossible for us to protect our village. We
applied to the government, there was no government to hear us;
despair reigned in the hearts of all. They fought until evening,
and before they had reached us, we, all the villagers, left
everything, even not taking bread for one meal with us, went
to the monastery and left the village to the Turks. We passed
the night in the monastery, hungry and thirsty; the number of
the killed reached to thirty by morning. Then we learned that it
was not safe, even in the monastery, although they had plundered
it two or three times. Thursday, by noontime, the monastery was
full of villagers. At noon there was a blow on the door of the
monastery. Ravenous Turks, Zazes, and others were besieging the
building. Until evening they beat at the iron door to break it;
fifteen persons were at it, but it was impossible for them to open
it. Within, the shrieks and the cries of the people reached up to
heaven. Men, in order to save their lives, dressed themselves in
women's clothes, and covered their heads. Your brother wrapped
his moustaches so thickly that he should not be known, as the
Turks were after him by name. About 3 p. m., when the Turks
saw that it was not possible for them to open the gate of the
monastery, they broke in one of the stones in the wall, and the
plunderers entered.... I cannot describe here the sufferings
of the people.... Within one hour they robbed and violated a
population of 1,500 people, five times each woman, married or
maiden, and then left the monastery. The villagers, every one
to save her or his life, left everything, property, cattle,
merchandise, and provisions, and fled, the man leaving his wife,
the wife her child, the son his mother, the brother his sister,
and they dispersed in the adjoining mountains, plains, valleys,
and hills, with only their under-garments on, as the Turks and
Kurds had stripped them of everything else. Friday morning the
number of the killed had reached about fifty. Your father was
shot on the plain of Sacrat, but the wound was not dangerous. For
three days the people gathered in Sacrat, hungry and thirsty;
from Sacrat they were given over to the Zazes, to take them to
the city.... I can not write down here all the things we endured
at the hands of the Zazes.... Finally, after we had suffered
unmentionable cruelties, being twice plundered in the city and
violated, three brides and maidens were carried away as slaves by
the Kurds, more than one hundred persons were martyred, among whom
were two priests, and the rest were forced to accept Mohammedanism,
and after that the massacre ceased. For twenty days we remained in
the city, naked, hungry, and thirsty, also hopeless. The city was
rescued from the massacre after having suffered the loss of six
hundred houses, together with all the property of the shops and
stores, and the total sum of the martyred being 2,000. Our village
was given over to be burned for twenty days successively. Out
of two hundred houses, there are hardly thirty left sound; the
rest are all razed to the ground.... The rest of this story will
follow by next mail. I wanted to tell you a little about our hard
situation. Saved with only our undergarments, hungry and thirsty,
our whole family came back from the city, among the ruins. I,
your mother, had to go begging wholly naked and barefoot to the
familiar Kurd neighbors. I had only one shirt, which I made into a
bag to put the things in which I begged from the Kurds. For fifty
days I have provided thus for the family; after this I commit it
to your care; you know best what to do. We have not got even a head
covering; nothing to carry the water home in from the fountain. It
is the month of December, and you know well it is the first month
of the winter; we have two and a half months yet before coming
to the spring. We are all of us very, very, hungry. Those Turks
who were so friendly before have turned now not to know us, they
don't even give a penny. We have no hope from anywhere else; if
you do not come to our help, we shall perish! perish! perish! We,
with all the villagers shall die. Behold the description of our
misery. Read this to all the villagers that are there with you,
and notify them that all of you must be the helpers and deliverers
of our people, especially to us who are all helpless and on the
verge of starvation. Send us help. I remain
"Your affectionate mother."