The Express.
London, England, 1867-04-26 00:00:00

THE WAR IN CRETE.

(►som °us erecter. COERISPOIMENT.)
RUINS OF ARKADI, Arm 11.
This is a gloomy place from which to date •
letter. You have heard in England of the tragedy '
of Arkadi, and you can well imagine that the
ruited monastery must present a desolate appear-
:a& But I defy you to realise the scene of hor-
ror to its full extent. We, who came hither an
hour ago eager for sightseeing, have stepped out into
the sunshine, sad and sickened. On the north-
western slope of Mount Ida is a small, but fertile,
patch of tableland, surrounded by rocks and gorse
bushes. There is some fine timber scattered over
the tableland, and its meadows are bright with
flowers. The monks chose well their site for build-
ing. They chose an excellent site, and they built
a solid, substantial monastery. Arkadi was the
largest and richest of the religious establishments in
Crete. It owned immense flocks of sheep, which
pastured on the neighbouring mountains, and it'
was well stored with provisions of all kinds. I
will make no attempt to sketch its history or to
distinguish particular dates. The great monastery
was founded in the middle ages, and continued rich
and prosperous until last November. Then the
Turks besieged Arkadi, and the Christians defended
it, and all was ripe for the tragedy which followed.
We descended to the fertile tableland, with our
straggling force of Cretan mountaineers marching
gaily before and behind us. I noticed that the
men hushed their songs and laughter as we ad-
vanced across the meadows. They were not awe-
stricken ; that would be saying too much, for they
are rough, hardened fellows ; but they became
grave and silent. Yes, that was Arkadi. The old
lady who had escaped the slaughter, and was here
as our guide, shuddered when she saw it. That
was Arkadi. There, yonder, in the middle of the
tableland, where the flowers were brightest and the
meadows greenest, stood a pile of masonry bearing
little outward sign of ruin ; but we must see the
inside. Our guide lowered her voice when she
spoke of that dreadful inside.
There is only one corner completely destroyed ;
the rest of the monastery, though battered, burnt,
and plundered, has resisted the explosion of gun-
powder, and remains almost as it was. Arkadi
was built on a simple plan, which makes it easy
to describe. A square courtyard was formed by
the dwelling houses and storerooms, a courtyard
which may contain about an acre of ground, and
in this central space is the church. We entered
through a gateway partly blocked with stones, and
found ourselves at once amid traces of what had
happened last November. Here was a dead horse
lying straight in our path ; there some fragments
of shell from rifled guns. This blackened, shri-
velled form, a few paces further on, was a man
when the siege began. Perhaps he was blown
hither by the explosion ; how otherwise could he
have been so terribly shattered 1 But we cannot
stop to think of one man. There are scores of
bodies, unburied, half buried, sun-dried and
' mangled, to be seen within the monastery.
It brings the siege vividly before us, this
' dismal spectacle of those who fell. We can see Ar-
' lubdi crowded with womenand children, with priests
and soldiers. There was room enough for 900 souls
to shelter within those solid walls, and food enough
to support them during many months. We can
well imagine how some of these shrivelled bodies
defended the windows, and others heaped stones in
the gateway. Women must have wrung their
hands when the Turks surrounded Arkadi, and
men have looked anxiously to the mountains for
some sign of a rescue. But the tableland was
occupied by regular troops, and cannon were
planted so as to breach the monastery walls. Those
lofty peaks, which the garrison could see not
many miles away, were yet too far for Cretan rifle-
men to approach the doomed stronghold. There
was a stubborn but hopeless defence. We can trace
upon the walls the effect of shot and shell,
and can judge that there was a heavy fuellede
by the almost countless bullet marks. After
two days' fighting the Turks broke through
every barrier, and a bloody struggle followed in
the courtyard and cloisters. It was then that
some desperate hand fired the magazine in the
north-east corner of Arkadi. We can distin-
guish among the ruins of that portion a number of
dead Turks who were dashed to pieces in the mo-
ment of victory. This was the great event of the
, siege, the crowning act of self-devotion. But it
, was not the end of the slaughter. Enraged at
their losses, the Turkish soldiery put to death per-
sons of both sexes and every age who had survived
in other quarters of the monastery. We find one
room full of such victims, and they are terribly
human still as they lie stiffly where they fell. It is
a pity that there are no wild animals in Crete
which can profit by such scenes. Anything would
be better than to shrivel and blacken in this
ghastly fashion.

Our guide, with more than a hundred other
women, was spared at the time, and soon after-
wards sot at liberty; but thirty of her kinsfolk,
perished around her, and she relates with tears
how one little grandchild, six years old, was cut
down before her eyes. We come outside with a
feeling of relief, and are presently joined by a
hearty looking priest, who escaped from Arkadi
just as it was stormed. He and a few others, see-
ing all hope to be over, dropped from a window
and ran for their lives. What a breathless run it
must have been, since they had some distance to
traverse without any sort of cover! Howbeit in
the confusion which prevailed they managed to get
away.

To speak of matters present and future, rather
than any further of these famous ruins. The pre-
sent position of Crete is one of anxious expectation.
Much has been done, much blood shed and trea-
sure expended, to free the island from the Turks.
A war of eight months has been waged by a few
irregulars against many disciplined troops. More