gratitude. All day the sorry pageant lasted, the ragged, half-starved
crowd streamed by the house of Jemal the Great, with murmurs of
thanksgiving and uplifted hands, and all manner of obeisances, while
Jemal the Great stood in his porch with stern, impassive face, and hand
on his sword-hilt in the best Potsdam manner, and acknowledged these
thanksgivings....[1]

[Footnote 1: In support of Jemal's claim to clemency it must be added
that, according to a report coming from Alexandria, he hanged twelve of
the worst assassins sent to Syria as ringleaders of the massacres. I
cannot find corroboration of this.]

Here, then, is the absurd, the Williamesque side of this ludicrous
popinjay, Jemal the Great, and it contains not only the obvious seeds of
laughter, but the more helpful seeds of hope. He has a strong hand on
the very efficient army of Syria, and his visits to Berlin seem perhaps
to have turned his head not quite in the direction that the
Master-egalo-megalomaniac of Berlin intended. I gather that Jemal the
Great was not so much impressed by the magnificence of William II. as to
fall dazzled and prone at the Imperial feet, and lick with enraptured
tongue the imperial boot polish, but rather to be inspired to do the
same himself, to become the God-anointed of the newly acquired German
province, which is Turkey, and make a Potsdam of his own. This is only a
guess, but the conduct of Jemal the Great in the matter of these
Armenian refugees, and in other affairs, has been distinctly imperial.
In June of this year, for instance, he telegraphed to H.E. the Vali of
Syria, and an extract from his text is truly Potsdamish. 'One and a half
million of sandbags,' he wrote, 'are required for the fortress of
Gaza.... The bags should be made, if necessary, of all the silk-hangings
in houses of Syria and Palestine.' With his army behind him, he has