Christian Villagers, Ottoman Soldiers, and a Leopard in Mount Lebanon

Samuel Dolbee, New York University

In May of 1857, a group of Ottoman soldiers marked the end of Ramadan by traveling from their post in Deir al-Qamar, a mountain town famous for being the seat of Lebanon’s governors for centuries, to Beirut, the growing port city on the Mediterranean. They were after provisions and their salaries. 

But the seemingly straightforward task became more complicated after the men encountered some 50 armed Christians about two hours outside of Beirut.  It's unclear if the soldiers understood why the Christians were armed but in any case they took all precautions, including loading their own weapons.  At some point, the two corporals – Manisalı Mehmet and Manastırlı Himmet – became separated from their colleagues.  They were far from home, Himmet hailing from Manastır, in what is now Bulgaria, and Mehmet from Manisa, outside of İzmir.  As you know from the framing of this story – loaded guns, imperial troops far away from home, separation from colleagues – something bad was about to happen.  And, indeed, something bad did happen. 

With their guns loaded, the Ottoman troops found themselves assailed by a kaplan, a term that can refer to a tiger but probably means leopard here.  The 'azim-i al-cüsse - giant - creature pounced on Mehmet, and knocked away his rifle with its paw, pinning him to the ground.  Had they been in the Fire Swamp in The Princess Bride, Mehmet and Himmet might have resorted to other measures involving strategic use of the intermittent flame spurts and lightning sand.  But since it was not the Fire Swamp, they had to stick to their guns.  As the beast mauled Mehmet, leaving "seven or eight marks on his left arm from its teeth and claws", Corporal Himmet injured the leopard with some lead from his rifle (Himmet Onbaşı daha tüfenk kursunuyle mezkur kaplanı cerh eylemiş) but did not manage to kill it.  Finally the animal left them and fled to a spot twenty paces away.  After it was wounded several more times, it fell and died. 

Meanwhile, the other soldiers arrived at the site of the commotion, where they saw the dying creature.  The Christians gathered, too, eager to see the beast that had apparently harmed one or two children in the area (not to be confused with the hyena monster of Sinop and its child-thieving ways).  Although the locals wished to keep the corpse of the animal, the soldiers refused, and took the body of the animal to Beirut where they also sought medical attention for Corporal Mehmet. 

The document speaks to the tensions between humans and the natural world that have been explored elsewhere, illuminating a time when the space between a rifle trigger, a leopard paw, and a bleeding arm was not as vast as it might seem today.  But the document also speaks to profound tensions between humans themselves.  What was Manastırlı Himmet thinking of as he loaded his rifle after encountering the armed Christians?  What were the Christian villagers thinking of as the soldiers insisted that they take the carcass of the creature that injured local children with them?  All of these questions get at the heart of the everyday networks that composed Ottoman Lebanon, networks that, if we want to be slightly teleological about it, would be deeply strained within just a few years time.

Source: BOA I DH 455/30195   

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Lebanon