"Gleanings" Reprint

HANDFUL OF EARTH
APRIL 1918,
Reprinted from Professor Lulejian's book, "Gleanings", (1955) Mshag Press, and Fresno.
And just as the more modern tragedy is characterized new refinements of horror, just so
much pathetic and appealing is the modern prayer.
We are left in no doubt the personality of its author. The same, Donabed Lulejian, will
call to many Armenians the vision of a thoughtful and scholarly young man know the
them, it may be, at Cornell University where he studied for two years, or at Yale, where
he received the degree of M. S. He was also a graduate of Euphrates, the American
college at Harpoot, when he came to our country, and it was to Euphrates he returned in
1911 to serve as professor of biology there. He was the last surviving member of the
Armenian faculty, until Death took him also.
Part of his story comes to us tersely in Viscount Bryce's "Documents presented to
Viscount Greay." The testimony is that of the Principal of the College.
"Professor Lulejian served college about 15 years. Arrested about June 5th, 1915. Beaten
about hands, body, and head with a stick by the Kaimakam himself, who, when tired,
called on all who loved religion to continue the beating. After a period of insensibility,
taken to Red Crescent Hospital with a broken finger and serious bruises. Now Free."
Professor Lulejian contrived somehow to escape from the Hospital, and to flee on foot to
Russia, from whence he later returned to Erzerum to assist the American Consul in relief
work. There he died of typhoid. It is his young brother, Levon, who was his companion
on the flight, that we are indebted for the details of the piteous circumstances which
attended the writing of the second prayer:
"For four months we had been hiding in a stable," he writes. "When Kurds told us of the
fall of Erzerum, we came out from our hiding places and saw the sun again. A few days
afterwards, when we were passing through the ruined villages of Unghag, where we saw
the bones and hacked bodies of men, women and children, my brother sat near by and
began to write this, I, standing at a distance, was crooning a melancholy Kurdish song,
and when I turned toward him I saw that his eyes were filled with tears and that he was
shaking with emotion. In a few minuets he had finished his Handful of Earth. This is only
a skeleton, he said. There is much to add. But I have no more paper. Let us go."
This epic of suffering was written a bit of thick window paper, torn from the window-
paper, of the stable in which they had been hiding. I use a translation made by Mr.
Garabed H. Papazian:
"At least a handful of earth for these slain bodies, for these whitened bones! A handful of
earth, at least, for these unclaimed dead!
"We bury the dead: we keep their memory sacred: the grave is holy to us: we place our
dear ones into its bosom, and we imagine them always to be there. We dislike to fancy the
bodies of our dear ones worm-ridden; their eyes lonely eyes, filled with worms; their
cheeks their kiss-deserving cheeks, mildewed; their pomegranate-like lips food for
reptiles. We dislike to fancy the ruin, destruction, and annihilation. Our heart is there
under the earth with the embalmed dead, waiting to rise in the glorious dawn of the
resurrection. With a handful of earth we cover the scene of death and decay. With a
handful of earth we cover our dear bones.
"But here they are in the mountains, unburies and forlorn, attacked by worms and
scorpions, the eyes bare, the faces horrible, amid a loathsome stench, like the odor of a
slaughter-house, -- a dreadful spot from which to flee. We flee from those we love; we
abhor those for whom we would give our lives. A handful of earth, to cover this
frightened scene!
"There are our women with breasts uncovered and limbs bare a handful of earth to shield
their hearts and in their heads: a handful of earth to cover them! There are our brides,
disemboweled, hacked to pieces, with babies yet unborn: a handful of earth, only to
screen from our eyes this sorrowful scene! there are our young men with feet cut away
and heads battered against the stone: cruel fiends hacked them to pieces, ferocious
Bushmen, wild Kaffirs. A handful of earth to shut from our sight this heart-rending scene!
"A handful of earth, God! Sprinkle a handful of earth so that thin eyes, through the stars,
may not see the immolation of these weak and defenseless creatures, the piteous sacrifice
on the altar of Thy wrath. Throw a handle of earth upon them!
"A handful of earth, at least! Let the drama end, the age long drama of Armenian's torture.
Let the Armenian become a fossil. Let him to be disgrace of the civilization which tore
him to pieces, cruelly and without mercy. Let him be the curse of the religion which
abandoned him and left him without succor. A handful of earth, that he may become a
fossil inscription to reveal to the man of tomorrow the story of Armenia's woe. Give,
God, the handful of earth requested of Thee!"
The New Armenia, April, 1918
pic. 191, A photo of the professor as he appeared in 1911
pic 191, A photo of the professor as he appeared immediately after his release from
prison, 1915