116 HENRY HILL GOODELL 



a Scottish army into England, which led to his trial, and, 

 as Oliver Cromwell said, to the "cruel necessity" of his 

 execution. 



In the year 1895 came a period of terrible and torturing 

 anxieties, which made his life, for months, an awful night- 

 mare, bristling with horrors. The son of a missionary, he 

 knew something of the exposures of a missionary, even in 

 the near East. He had a sister in Armenia with her family, 

 who was particularly exposed, as her husband was a mis- 

 sionary. He knew the character of the Armenians and of 

 the wild tribes of the mountains, and the character of 

 the Sultan, Abd-ul Hamid II, "the assassin," as Gladstone 

 called him. When the Sultan let loose the savage Kurds and 

 supported them with Turkish soldiers, inspired by Moslem 

 fanaticism, upon a clever and industrious, but unpopular 

 and unwarlike people, Goodell knew full well what would 

 be the result, and his imagination pictured such scenes 

 as Milton described as taking place in the valleys of Pied- 

 mont, two hundred and forty years before. "Atrocity," 

 says the great poet, "horrible and before unheard of! 

 Such savagery — Good God, were all the Neros of all times 

 and all ages to come to life again, what a shame they would 

 feel at having contrived nothing equally inhuman!" 



He not only prepared an address, which was published, 

 but he appealed to the Governor of the Commonwealth to 

 use his influence with the authorities at Washington, and 

 addressed letters to influential members of Congress. But 

 nothing came of it. The great powers, for one reason or 

 another, declined to interfere. But the next year came 

 the Turkish St. Bartholomew Day, or days, in the streets of 

 Constantinople, and Lord Salisbury, then at the head of 



