This report is taken from a panegyric on the speaker: Eleutherios Venizelos, by K. K. Kosmides, D.Ph., Athens, 1915, pp. 56-7. On p. 58 of the same work, occurs another reply by M. Venizelos to a charge of anti-Parliamentarism, dated 14/27 Nov., 1913.

[9] The Balkan Review, loc. cit. Cp. The New Europe, 29 March, 1917, where M. Venizelos expressly admits that "in February, 1915, the King's action might be regarded as constitutional."

[10] Orations, pp. 17-8. Cp. p. 217.

[11] His opponents then acted as he did now: to avoid exposing their weakness, they pronounced the dissolution unconstitutional and boycotted the new elections. For a full account of these events see another panegyric: E. Venizelos: his life—his work. By Costa Kairophyla, Athens, 1915, pp. 73-82.

[12] Orations, pp. 12-15.

[13] Eleutheros Typos, 23 Oct./5 Nov., 1916; Orations, p. 102.

[14] See Art. 90 of the Constitution.

It was in order to defend himself against this grave charge that M. Venizelos denied in the Chamber and out of it, that he had "invited" the Allies to Salonica. Just as it was in order to avoid the charge of violating International Law that Sir Edward Grey in the House of Commons (18 April, 1916) and M. Briand in the Chamber of Deputies (20 June, 1916), affirmed that the Allies had been "invited." From the account of that affair already given, the reader will easily see that, for forensic purposes, both the denial and the affirmation rest on sufficient grounds. The discrepancy might be removed by the substitution of "instigated" for "invited."

[15] J. M. N. Jefferies, in the Daily Mail, 23 Nov., 1915. The testimony is all the more notable because it comes from an avowed partisan of M. Venizelos: "the only man in Greece with a policy."



{76}

CHAPTER VII

A momentous question—upon the answer to which depended, among other things, the fate of Greece during the War—confronted the Allies as soon as they realized that their Balkan campaign had come to an untimely beginning.

The dispatch of troops to Macedonia originally was based on the agreement that M. Venizelos would get Greece to join. Once M. Venizelos failed to do so, the plan fell to the ground. Again, the object of the expedition was to rescue Servia; and Servia being already conquered, the expedition had no longer any purpose. Such were the views of the British Government, and similar views were held in France by many, including M. Delcasse, who resigned when Bulgaria's "defection" sounded the knell of his Balkan policy. But other French statesmen, with M. Briand at their head, saw in Macedonia a field which promised great glory and gain, if only the noble British nation could be brought to understand that there were interests and sentiments at stake higher than agreements.[1]

The process involved some talking: "I have had my interview with Briand and Gallieni," wrote Lord Kitchener to the Prime Minister. "As regards Salonica it is very difficult to get in a word; they were both full of the necessity of pushing in troops, and would not think of coming out. They simply sweep all military difficulties and dangers aside, and go on political lines—such as saving a remnant of Serbs, bringing Greece in, and inducing Rumania to join." [2]

Other conferences followed, at all of which the French spoke so loudly that the noble British nation could not possibly help hearing—la noble nation britannique n'est pas restee sourde. The truth is, France was set on what {77} M. Delcasse now called the mirage balkanique, partly from considerations of a domestic nature, chiefly for reasons connected with the future balance of power in the Near East—and England could not leave her there alone. So the "nous resterons" policy prevailed; and the continued presence of Franco-British forces on Greek soil led, as it was bound to do, to abnormal relations with the Greek Government.

The wish of the Allies was to obtain from Greece full licence for the safe accommodation and the operations of their troops; while it was the earnest endeavour of Greece not to let her complaisance towards one group of belligerents compromise her in the eyes of the other. The little kingdom found itself between two clashing forces: the one triumphant on land, the other dominating the sea. But of the two the German peril was the more imminent. The Kaiser's legions were at Monastir—any act that might be construed as a breach of neutrality would bring them in a month to Athens.

M. Skouloudis—a stately octogenarian who, after refusing three times the Premiership, had assumed power in this crisis at the King's insistent desire because, as he said, he considered it his duty so to do—took up the only attitude that could have been expected in the circumstances: the attitude that was dictated by the instinct of self-preservation.

Unlike M. Venizelos, whose mind revolved constantly about war at all hazards: unlike other statesmen who regarded war as an eventuality to be accepted or declined according as conditions might be favourable or unfavourable, M. Skouloudis seemed resolutely to eliminate war from his thoughts.

On taking office he gave the Entente Powers "most categorical assurances of a steady determination to carry on the policy of neutrality in the form of most sincere benevolence towards them. The new Ministry," he added, "adopts M. Zaimis's repeated declarations of Greece's friendly attitude towards the Allied armies at Salonica, and is sufficiently sensible of her true interests and of her debt to them not to deviate for the whole world from this course, and hopes that the friendly sentiments of those Powers towards Greece will never be influenced by false {78} and malicious rumours deliberately put into circulation with the object of cooling the good relations between them." To Servia also he expressed "in the most categorical terms sentiments of sincere friendship and a steady determination to continue affording her every facility and support consistent with our vital interests." [3]

But at the same time, when told by the Servian Minister that a Servian army might probably, pressed by the enemy, enter Greek territory, he replied that he wished and hoped such a thing would not happen—that Greece might not find herself under the very unpleasant necessity of applying the Hague Rules regarding the disarmament of a belligerent taking refuge in neutral territory. And he repeated this statement to the French Minister, adding, in answer to a question. What would Greece do if the Allied forces retired into Greek territory? that it would be necessary to apply the Hague Rules, but that he hoped very much the contingency would not present itself. On being reminded of the assurances given by his predecessor that no material pressure would ever be exerted on the Allied forces, he replied that the Hellenic Government nowise proposed to go back on those assurances, and hoped that the Powers, taking into consideration the irreproachable attitude of Greece, would be pleased to relieve her of complications and find a solution safeguarding all interests concerned.[4]

The solution he hinted at was that the Allies should re-embark; in which case Greece was prepared to protect the parting guests "even by her own forces, so as to afford them the most absolute security." [5]

But, as nothing was farther from their thoughts, his explanation did not satisfy the Allies. M. Skouloudis was therefore obliged to give their representatives again and again to understand that in no case would the Hellenic Government think of exerting the least pressure, and that, if he had alluded to the Rules regarding neutrality, he had done so because such ought to be the official language of a State which was and wished to remain neutral. But from the very first he had clearly indicated that Greece did not mean to apply those Rules: she would confine {79} herself to a mere reminder of international principles without in any way seeking to enforce respect for them. Greece being and wishing to remain neutral, could not speak officially as if she were not, nor trumpet abroad the assurances which she had not ceased giving the Entente Powers. Surely they must perceive the most delicate position in which Greece stood between the two belligerent groups, and, given that they did not dispute, nor could dispute, her right to remain neutral, it was reasonable and just that they should accept the natural consequences and not demand from her impossibilities.[6]

The Entente Powers could not, of course, deny the reasonableness of this plea; but neither could they ignore the inconveniences to themselves that would arise from its frank recognition. Between their base at Salonica and the troops which had advanced to Krivolak interposed several Greek army corps; at Salonica also Greek camps lay among the Franco-British camps scattered round the town: these conditions impeded organized operations. General Sarrail, the Commander-in-Chief of the Allies, had nothing but praise for the courtesy of the Greek authorities, both civil and military. Yet not a day passed without incidents. He complained that obstacles were placed in his action through a multitude of secondary details: the Municipality claimed duties; the Railway Service did not assist as liberally as could be wished in the work of getting off the stores which arrived at the port. It was necessary that the Greek troops should be moved out of the Allies' way and leave them in full control: privileges which no State could voluntarily grant and remain neutral; which no army could forgo and work efficiently. So the General, while confessing that "we often place them in a difficult position by demanding permissions which their virtual neutrality cannot allow them to give," impressed on the Entente Governments the need of taking strong measures with the Greeks.[6]

Germany would have proceeded to deeds without wasting words—beyond a casual "Necessity knows no law." But nations fighting for noble ideals could not imitate Germany's cynicism. A case had to be made out to {80} justify coercion. It was. Greece did not really wish to remain neutral. Misled by a Germanophile Court, she only waited for a chance of joining the enemy—of stabbing the Allies in the back. When this amazing theory—widely popularized by the French and English Press—was hinted to M. Rallis by "Our Special Correspondent," on 18 November, the Greek Minister could hardly credit his collocutor's sanity: "It is mad!" he cried out. "It is senseless to imagine such a thing—when you could have the guns of your fleet levelled on our cities!" The answer, however—an answer the conclusiveness of which a glance at the map is enough to demonstrate to the dimmest intelligence—fell upon deliberately deaf ears. The very journal which in one page recorded it, in another wrote: "Bulgaria has gone; Greece is trembling in the balance. Only a display of overwhelming force on our part can hold her steady and prevent the accession of another 500,000 men to the enemy's strength."

That the publicists who argued thus and who, to give to their argument greater cogency, generously added to the Greek army some 200,000 men, were persuaded by their own reasoning, it is hard to believe without libelling human sense. Apart from the ocular refutation supplied by the map, what had Greece to gain by siding with the enemies of the Entente? That she would lose all her islands, have her coast towns pulverized and her population starved, was certain. What she could get in return, it needed a very robust imagination to suggest. The only countries at whose cost the Hellenic Kingdom could possibly compensate itself for these inevitable sacrifices were Turkey and Bulgaria; and those countries were Germany's allies. A moment's reflection raises a number of equally unanswerable questions: If the Greeks wanted to join Germany, why did they not do so when the Kaiser invited them at the very beginning of the War? Why did they not resist the landing of the Allies? Why did they not attack them when they had them at their mercy: 60,000 French and British, with the Germans and the Bulgars in front of them, and 150,000 Greeks between them and Salonica?[8]

{81}

In this connexion the evidence of an eminent English soldier and an eminent French statesman who visited Athens at that time to study the situation on the spot may be cited. To each King Constantine and M. Skouloudis, in the course of lengthy interviews, declared that the Allied forces had nothing to fear in Greece. Each was convinced of their sincerity, and of the true motives of their attitude: "They both," reported Lord Kitchener, "seem very determined to stick to their neutrality." Likewise General Dousmanis, Chief of the General Staff, and Colonel Metaxas, who were represented to the Entente publics as Germanophile pedants, satisfied Lord Kitchener of their genuine concern about the British sphere in the East, and startled him by pressing upon him a plan of action "almost exactly the same as detailed in my telegrams, and based their conclusions on the same argument almost word for word. They emphatically stated that there was no other way of preventing the accomplishment of the German project." [9] M. Denys Cochin even went so far as to publish to the whole world that the suspicions entertained against King Constantine had no other source than party rancour.[10]

For the rest, a striking proof that the Entente Powers themselves did not believe the story of the Greek Government's hostile intentions is afforded by the fact that, instead of demanding, they deprecated the disbandment of the Greek army. When Lord Kitchener saw M. Skouloudis, the latter said that the Allies' mistrust might well force Greece to consider whether it would not be better for her to demobilize, leaving to them all responsibility for the consequences. Lord Kitchener, in the presence of the British Minister, replied that, "as to some partial demobilization, it was for Greece to decide according to her interests, but he did not think a general demobilization advisable." And again, a little later on, when {82} M. Skouloudis, irritated by a fresh exhibition of mistrust, told the French Minister that, in face of such a state of things, nothing was left for his unhappy country but to order at once a general demobilization, and let the Entente Powers do what they liked to her, M. Guillemin cried out, "Ah, no. I am decidedly against demobilization." Naturally: "the Greek Army," said Sir Thomas Cuninghame, the British Military Attache, to General Moschopoulos. Military Governor of Salonica, "saves and secures the flanks and rear of the Allies." [11]

However, the story served the purpose of supplying a pretext for pressure. All ships carrying foodstuffs and other commodities were held up. In addition, Milo—an island not far from Athens—was occupied, and the Allied Fleet was ordered to be ready, in case things should be pushed to extremes, to open war on Greek commerce, to destroy the Greek Fleet, and to bombard Athens, en respectant les monuments anciens.[12]

Fortunately, the occasion for extreme measures, by which even the ancient ruins might have suffered, did not arise. General Sarrail, who at first urged that the naval demonstration against Athens should be proceeded with immediately, on second thoughts, prompted by nervousness as to the safety of his troops, deprecated such action. At the same time, M. Skouloudis, alarmed by the blockade—Greece never has more than a very limited food reserve—invited the Allies to state their demands, saying that he would accede to them if it was possible to do so.[13]

Whereupon the Allies, "ever animated by the most benevolent intentions towards Greece, and anxious that the equivocal situation in which events had placed her towards them should come to an end and their relations be re-established on a basis of mutual and lasting confidence," demanded first of all a formal assurance that in no circumstances would the Greek troops attempt to disarm or intern the retiring Allied troops, but that the policy of benevolent neutrality promised would be maintained with all its consequences. They disavowed any wish or intention to compel the Hellenic Government to {83} participate in the European War from which it had declared that it meant to hold aloof. But it was a vital necessity for them not to let it in any way hinder the freedom of their movements on land or sea, or compromise the security of their troops throughout the field of their operations. They therefore must be assured that they will obtain, according to the promise already given by M. Zaimis, all the facilities which they might require, notably in the port of Salonica and on the roads and railways. It was understood that the Entente Powers would restore in full at the end of the War all the parts of Greek territory which they might be obliged to occupy during the hostilities, and that they would duly pay indemnities for all damage caused by the occupation.[14]

M. Skouloudis, after thanking the Entente Powers for the benevolent intentions with which they declared themselves to be animated towards Greece, willingly repeated the assurances he had so many times already given, that the Greek troops would in no circumstances seek to disarm or intern the Allied troops, and that the Greek Government in its relations with the Entente Powers would in everything hold fast to its policy of benevolent neutrality. He once more noted the reiterated disavowal by the Allied Governments of any wish or intention to force Greece into the War, and on his part disavowed any wish or intention to hinder in any way the freedom of their movements on land or sea, or to compromise in any way the security of their troops. The Hellenic Government had always kept the promises made by M. Zaimis to the very utmost of its ability, and had no difficulty in renewing the assurance that the Allied Governments would continue to receive all the facilities their troops might require in the port of Salonica, and on the roads and railways.[15]

These prefatory amenities led on 10 December to a detailed Agreement, the Greek Government promising to move its troops out of the way and "not to oppose by force the construction of defensive works or the occupation of fortified points," but reserving to itself the right to protest {84} against such operations "energetically and seriously, not as a mere form"—a right which the Allies easily conceded[16]—and emphatically declaring that "should the Allied troops by their movements bring the war into Greek territory, the Greek troops would withdraw so as to leave the field free to the two parties to settle their differences."

The Entente Ministers expressed their satisfaction, and M. Skouloudis expressed the hope that their Governments, convinced at last of the Greek Government's sincerity, would not only drop coercion, but comply with its request for financial and commercial facilities. They promised that all difficulties would disappear as soon as the military authorities on the spot had given effect to the agreement; and the French Minister repeated his Government's declaration that it would be happy to accord Greece all financial and commercial facilities as soon as the situation cleared.[17]



[1] Journal Officiel, pp. 61, 70, 75-8.

[2] Sir George Arthur's Life of Lord Kitchener. Vol. III. p. 261.

[3] White Book, Nos. 47, 48, 49.

[4] Skouloudis's Apantesis, pp. 43-5.

[5] White Book, No. 52.

[6] White Book, No. 51.

[7] Sarrail, pp. 311-12; Life of Kitchener, Vol. III, p. 198.

[8] Those were the figures on 17 Nov.—Life of Kitchener, Vol. III, p. 199. I have only seen an answer to the second of the above questions: it is from M. Venizelos, and it is: "absent-mindedness": "Why did not the General Staff do this, since it was to Germany's interest that the Anglo-French should not land? Because, immersed in politics, it no longer took account of military matters!"—Orations, p. 140.

[9] Life of Kitchener, Vol. III, pp. 202-3.

[10] See interview with M. Denys Cochin at Messina, in the Daily Mail, 29 Nov., 1915. Cp. Le Temps, 25 Nov.

[11] Skouloudis, Apantesis, pp. 4-5; Semeioseis, p. 46.

[12] Journal Officiel, pp. 71-2.

[13] Life of Kitchener, Vol. III, p. 199-203.

[14] Communication by the Entente Ministers, Athens, 10/23 Nov., 1915.

[15] Skouloudis to Entente Ministers, Athens, 11/24 Nov., 1915.

[16] "Le Gouvernement Grec se reservait de protester; nous nous reservions de ne pas repondre. (Rires)." M. Briand in the Journal Officiel, p. 72.

[17] White Book, No. 54.



{85}

CHAPTER VIII

The situation did not clear—how could it? Of all diplomatic fictions that of "benevolence" is perhaps the most incompatible with the grim realities of war.

General Sarrail had from the outset been empowered to take any measures which he might judge necessary at his discretion. But fear of the Greek army for a time compelled him to temper vigour with caution. That fear decreased in proportion as the Allied contingents in Macedonia increased; and hence a series of acts which show how the General used his discretion.

First, he judged it necessary to blow up the bridge of Demir-Hissar. He blew it up—thus completely cutting off the Greek forces in Eastern Macedonia, and, incidentally, letting the enemy know that no offensive across the Struma was contemplated by the Allies. Next, he judged it necessary to seize the Fort of Kara-Burnu which commands the entrance to Salonica Harbour. He seized it—despite a solemn engagement to the contrary.[1] Then he judged it necessary to occupy the town of Florina. He occupied it. An appreciation of the efficacy or expediency of these measures—beyond a passing allusion to the obvious blunder committed by the destruction of the Demir-Hissar bridge—would be out of place here. For our present purpose their interest lies in the light they throw upon the conditions, apart from the purely military difficulties, created by the intrusion of foreign troops on neutral soil.

Afloat the Allies were not less vigorous than ashore. They judged it necessary to occupy Corfu, in order to accommodate the remnants of the Servian army that had escaped across Albania. They occupied Corfu. They judged it necessary to occupy Castellorizo, an islet off the coast of Asia Minor. They occupied Castellorizo. They {86} judged it necessary to occupy Suda Bay in Crete and Argostoli Bay in Cephalonia. They occupied them.

It is worthy of note that the occupation of Castellorizo was prepared by a local revolt stirred up by the French Consular and Naval authorities,[2] and that the occupation of Corfu constituted a flagrant violation of international pacts (Treaties of London, 14 Nov., 1863, and 29 March, 1864) to which the Entente Powers were signatories, and by virtue of which the perpetual neutrality of the island was guaranteed as strictly as that of Belgium—a circumstance that afforded the Central Powers an opportunity to protest against Anglo-French contempt for the sanctity of treaties.[3]

Among other arbitrary proceedings may be mentioned numerous arrests and deportations of enemy subjects and Consuls, and even the execution of some Greek subjects, by the Allied military and naval authorities.[4]

Against each of these encroachments upon its sovereignty the Greek Government protested with ever-deepening bitterness. The Entente Governments accepted its protests and disregarded them: International Law is the will of the stronger. Besides, says M. Briand, "we were there in a country where force is more effective than anywhere else." [5] From this utterance, which was received by the French Chamber with applause, we get a glimpse into the workings of the official Entente mind, and more than a glimpse of the guiding principles of Entente policy in Greece during that period.

The reason for that policy publicly alleged was, as we have seen, the Allies' need to do their own fighting in {87} peace and security. Their real aim, M. Skouloudis believed, was to draw Greece gradually into the War. In so believing he interpreted correctly the French Government's views as the French Government itself had expounded them to the British Government: "To bring Greece in." [6] With that as one of its objects the Salonica expedition had been persisted in; and as Greece persisted in standing out, the question resolved itself into one of continuous pressure.

M. Skouloudis was confirmed in his belief by the fact that the Allies would not allow demobilization, and at the same time would not lend Greece the 150 million francs which had been promised: they knew, through the International Financial Commission, that the mobilized army swallowed up every available resource, and they calculated that, when the strain reached the breaking point, Greece would fall at their feet and beg for relief at any price: the Ministry would have either to give way or make place for one which favoured war. The Ministry, determined to do neither, cast about for some means of making ends meet, when Germany came forward with an offer to lend temporarily a portion of the sum promised by France. This offer, though, of course, prompted by the desire to enable Greece to maintain her neutrality, was free from any political conditions, and M. Skouloudis accepted it thankfully. Negotiations began on 20 November, 1915, and by 7 March, 1916, an instalment of 40 million francs was actually paid. For obvious reasons the transaction was carried through without the knowledge of the Allies, from whom the Greek Premier still cherished some faint hopes of receiving the 150 millions.[7]

Whether he had any right to cherish such hopes, after accepting financial assistance from their enemies, is a very nice ethical point; but a nicer point still is, whether the Allies had any right left to question the ethics of others. M. Skouloudis doubtless could plead in self-justification that his remaining armed was admittedly a boon to them, as much as his remaining neutral was a boon to their enemies; and that both sides should therefore help to defray the cost. He was impartial. However, his hopes were dashed to the ground.

{88}

On 5 April the French and British Ministers called on the Premier and informed him that the Servian army at Corfu, having sufficiently rested and recovered, the Entente proposed to transport it to Salonica through Greece, and they had no doubt that Greece would readily consent. M. Skouloudis replied that Greece could not possibly consent. The transport of over 100,000 men across the country would mean interruption of railway traffic and suspension of all economic life for at least two months; it would expose the population to the danger of infection by the epidemic diseases from which the Serbs had been suffering; above all, it would be regarded by the Central Powers as a breach of neutrality and might force Greece into the War against her will. M. Skouloudis urged these reasons with all the firmness, and more than all the plainness, that diplomacy allowed, ending up with an emphatic: "No, gentlemen, such a thing we will not permit. I declare this to you officially."

"Our Governments," retorted the French Minister, "have not instructed us to ask for your permission, but to notify to you their decision."

M. Skouloudis was a proud old man, fiercely jealous of his country's independence and inflexible in his defence of it. Of his iron determination he had already given the Allies ample proof. But hitherto he had kept his gathering indignation under control. He could do so no longer: the Frenchman's speech and, more than the speech, the manner in which it had been delivered, were too much for his feelings.

"And I," he repeated, "declare to you that my Government's decision is not to permit this overland passage—further, I declare to you that, in the contrary event, I shall find myself under the necessity of blowing up the railway,"—then, in a crescendo of rage, he went on: "You have left us nothing sound in this country—neither self-respect, nor dignity, nor liberty, nor the right to live as free men. But do not forget that there is a limit to the most benevolent patience and to the most willing compliance, that one last drop makes the cup overflow. . . ."

The British Minister, seeing that the conversation with his colleague grew every moment more tempestuous, interposed by asking if Greece would equally object to a {89} sea-passage of the Serbs by the Canal of Corinth; and, the Cabinet having been consulted, a favourable answer was given. But meanwhile the demand for an overland passage was pressed by the Servian Minister, and was supported by all the Entente representatives. Again M. Skouloudis gave a categorical refusal, and in a telegraphic circular to the Greek Ministers in London, Rome, and Petrograd—experience had taught him that it was worse than useless to argue with Paris—he reiterated the reasons why Greece could not consent, laying special stress on the now inflamed state of public opinion, and pointing out that the dangers of the sea route were greatly exaggerated since most of the journey would be through close waters. He added that, in view of the absence of any real military necessity for an overland transport, and of the international consequences which compliance involved, the whole civilized world would justify Greece in her refusal and condemn any coercion on the part of the Entente as an outrage. He concluded by requesting the Greek Ministers to place all these reasons before the respective Governments in order that, on realizing the iniquity of the project, they might use all their influence to dissuade the French Government from it. England appreciated the force of M. Skouloudis's arguments and, thanks to her, diplomatic pressure ceased. But there remained another form of pressure, from which France would not desist.

M. Briand angrily declared that, under the circumstances, there could be no talk of a loan. M. Skouloudis pleaded that Greece had not asked the loan as a price for the violation of her neutrality; she had asked it on the supposition that the Entente Powers could not see with indifference her military and economic paralysis.[8]

The plea made no impression; and, rebuffed by Paris, M. Skouloudis's Government once more turned to Berlin. It received another credit of forty million marks; but, notwithstanding this supply, day by day it saw its expenses increasing and its revenues diminishing. Besides the men under arms, there were crowds of destitute refugees from Turkey, Bulgaria and Servia to be provided for, and the native population, owing to the rise in the cost of living {90} and to unemployment, also stood in urgent need of relief. At the same time, customs and other receipts became more and more precarious owing to the Allies' constant interference with the freedom of commerce.[9]

Truly, after the Allies' landing on her soil, the neutrality of Greece became something unique in the annals of international jurisprudence: a case defying all known maxims, except Machiavelli's maxim, that, when placed between two warring powers, it is better for a state to join even the losing side than try to remain neutral. By trying to do so, Greece could not avoid, even with the utmost circumspection, exposing herself to insult and injury.

One more corollary of the Salonica Expedition deserves to be noted. Since the beginning of the War, Athens, like other neutral capitals, had become the centre of international intrigue and espionage; each belligerent group establishing, beside their officially accredited diplomatic missions, secret services and propagandas. In aim, both establishments were alike. But their opportunities were not equal. The Germans had to rely for procuring information and influencing public opinion on the usual methods. The French and the British added to those methods others of a more unusual character.

From the riffraff of the Levant they had recruited a large detective force which operated under the sanctuary of their Legations.[10] The primary function of these gentry was to discover attempts at the fuelling and victualling of German submarines; and, stimulated by a permanent offer of a reward of 2,000 pounds from the British Minister, they did their best to discharge this necessary function. Hardly a day passed without their supplying information which, transmitted to the Fleets, led to raids at all points of the Greek coasts and isles. Let one or two examples suffice for many.

{91}

The French Intelligence Service reported that the Achilleion—the Kaiser's summer palace at Corfu—was a thoroughly organized submarine base, with a wharf, stores of petrol, and pipes for carrying it down to the water's edge. On investigation, the wharf turned out to be an ordinary landing stage for the palace, the stores a few tins of petrol for the imperial motor cars, and the pipes water-closet drains.[11]

In consequence of similar "information received from a trustworthy source"—that a Greek steamer had by order of the Greek Government transported to Gerakini and handed over to the Custom House authorities for the use of German submarines a quantity of benzine—a French detachment of marines landed, forced its way into the Custom House, and proceeded to a minute perquisition, even digging up the ground. The result was negative, and the officer commanding the detachment had to apologize to the Chief of the Custom House. Whereupon the Greek Government asked the French Minister for the source of the information, adding that it was time the Allies ceased from putting faith in the words of unscrupulous agents and proceeding to acts both fruitless and insulting.[12]

Were the Allies in the mood to use ordinary intelligence, they would have seen the truth themselves; for not one discovery, after the most rigorous search, was ever made anywhere to confirm the reports of the Secret Services.[13] As it was, the spies were able to justify their existence by continuing to create work for their employers; and the {92} lengths to which they were prepared to go are well illustrated by a case that formed the subject of some questions in the House of Commons. M. Callimassiotis, a well-known Greek Deputy, was denounced by the French Secret Service as directing an organization for the supply of fuel and information about the movements of Allied shipping to German submarines. A burglarious visit to his house at the Piraeus yielded a rich harvest of compromising documents. The British Secret Service joined in following up the clues, and two Mohammedan merchants of Canea were arrested and deported to Malta on unimpeachable evidence of complicity. Closer investigation proved the whole affair from beginning to end a web of forgery and fraud. The hoax ended in the British Minister at Athens apologizing to the Greek Deputy, and in the Mohammedan merchants being brought back home as guests aboard a British destroyer.[14]

Thus a new field was opened up to those who wished to ruin business competitors, to revenge themselves on personal enemies, or, above all, to compromise political opponents. From the words of Admiral Dartige: "The revelations of the Venizelist Press concerning the revictualling of German submarines in Greece are a tissue of absurd legends," [15] we learn the main source of these myths and also the principal motive. For if M. Venizelos and his party had, by their voluntary abstention, deprived themselves of a voice inside the Chamber, they more than made amends by their agitation out of doors. The coercion of Greece came as grist to their mill. The Liberal newspapers triumphantly pointed to it as concrete proof of the wisdom of their Leader's policy, and held up the names of the men who had thwarted him to obloquy and scorn. M. Skouloudis and his colleagues were abused for drawing down upon the country through their duplicity the wrath of the Powers which could best help or harm it. The "revelations" served a twofold purpose: to foster the belief that they promoted secretly the interests of Germany, and to furnish the Allies with fresh excuses for coercion. And in the Franco-British Intelligence organization the scheming brain of M. Venizelos found a {93} ready-fashioned tool: men willingly shut their eyes to the most evident truths that hinder their designs, and readily accept any myth that furthers them.

Nor did that organization assist M. Venizelos merely by traducing his opponents' characters and wounding their amour-propre. In March, 1916, the Chief of the French Secret Service, at a conference of the Allied admirals, proposed that they should lay hands on the internal affairs of Greece: that they should stick at nothing—qu' on devait tout oser. The motion was rejected with disgust by the honest sailors. But the mover was in direct communication with political headquarters in Paris; and his plan was only deferred. Meanwhile he and his associates with the rogues in their pay made themselves useful by collaborating in the Venizelist agitation, mixing themselves up in party disturbances, carrying out open perquisitions and clandestine arrests, and preparing the ground for graver troubles in the future.[16]

The representatives of the Entente at Athens pursued these unedifying tactics in the firm conviction that the cause of M. Venizelos was their cause; which was true enough in the sense that on him alone they could count to bring Greece into the War without conditions. As to the Entente publics, M. Venizelos was their man in a less sober sense: he kept repeating to them that his opponents under the guise of neutrality followed a hostile policy, and that his own party's whole activity was directed to preventing the King from ranging himself openly on the side of the Central Powers. The Entente Governments, whatever they may have thought of these tactics and slanders, did not dream of forbidding the one or of contradicting the other, since the former aided their client and the latter created an atmosphere which relieved them from all moral restraints.

They only upbraided M. Venizelos gently for keeping out of Parliament. So M. Venizelos, seeing that he had gained nothing by abstention and forgetting that he had {94} pronounced the Chamber unconstitutional, obeyed. Early in May, two of his partisans carried two bye-elections in Eastern Macedonia, and the leader himself was returned by the island of Mytilene. Three seats in Parliament could not overturn M. Skouloudis; and it cannot be said that his re-appearance on the scene enhanced the credit of M. Venizelos with the nation. Ever since the landing of the Allies, and largely through their own actions, his prestige in Greece declined progressively. He was reproached more and more bitterly for his "invitation" to them; and these reproaches grew the louder, the closer he drew to the foreigners and the farther he diverged from his own King. In a letter from Athens, dated 24 May, occurs the following passage: "Venizelos becomes every day more and more of a red republican. How that man has duped everybody! We all thought him a genius, and he simply is an ambitious maniac."

Later on M. Venizelos explained why he had not already revolted. A revolution there and then, no doubt, would have saved a lot of trouble; "But before the idea of revolution matures in the mind and soul of a statesman, there is need for some evolution, which cannot be accomplished in a few moments," he said. Since October, this idea had had time to evolve in his mind and soul. But his hate of "tyranny" was not blind. It was peculiarly clear-sighted, and he judged the difficulties with precision: "Such a step would not have been favoured by the Entente Powers, whose support would have been indispensable for its success." Then again: "If before the Bulgarian invasion of Macedonia I had kindled a civil war, public opinion would have held me responsible for the invasion, and that would certainly have arrested my movement." [17]

It so chanced that, scarcely had a fortnight passed since his reappearance in the Chamber, when the Bulgars provided M. Venizelos and at least one of the Entente Powers with this requisite for their evolution.



[1] See the Agreement of 10 Dec., 1915 (Art. 5), White Book, No. 54; Sarrail, pp. 94-6, 322-30.

[2] Skouloudis to Greek Legation, Paris, 12, 14, 16 Dec. (O.S.); Guillemin to Skouloudis, 16/29 Dec.; Skouloudis to Guillemin, 17/30 Dec., 1915.

[3] Skouloudis to Entente Ministers, Athens, 31 Dec., 1915/13 Jan., 1916; Gryparis, Vienna, 4/17 Jan., 1916.

[4] Among the Greek State Papers there is a voluminous file labelled "Violations of Hellenic Neutrality by the Entente Allies." It contains a mass of complaints by the Central Powers to the Greek Government and by the Greek Government to the Entente Governments. Special attention is drawn to the case of two Greeks put to death by the French military authorities in Macedonia for having been found in possession of German proclamations dropped from aeroplanes: See Skouloudis to French Legation, Athens, 13/26 April, 1916.

[5] Journal Officiel, p. 70.

[6] Life of Kitchener, Vol. III, p. 261.

[7] Skouloudis, Apantesis, pp. 3-11; White Book, Nos. 75-8, 82-3, 88, 91.

[8] Skouloudis, Semeioseis, pp. 33-6; White Book, Nos. 57-63.

[9] Skouloudis, Apantesis, pp. 12-14.

[10] Of the 162 individuals who, by the end of 1916, composed the personnel of the Franco-British Secret Police at Athens, only about 60 were natives of Old Greece; the rest came from Crete, Constantinople, Smyrna, etc. An analysis of the official List, signed by the Prefect of the Greek Police, reveals among them: 7 pickpockets, 8 murderers, 9 ex-brigands, 10 smugglers, 11 thieves, 21 gamblers, 20 White Slave traffickers. The balance is made up of men with no visible means of subsistence.

[11] Du Fournet, pp. 115-17; Skouloudis to Greek Legation, Paris, 19 Feb./4 March, 1916.

[12] Politis to Guillemin, 9/22 Feb., 1916.

[13] Considering the extent of the coast-line of Greece and the poverty of her inhabitants, this would be incredible, were it not attested by the Allies' Naval Commander-in-Chief, whose task it was to verify every report transmitted to him: "Jamais un seul de ses avis n'a ete reconnu exact; la plupart etaient visiblement absurdes." "Malgre les verifications les plus repetees jamais un seul de ces avis n'a ete reconnu exact. Un certain nombre de coquins, incompetents mais malins, vivaient du commerce de ces fausses nouvelles."—Du Fournet, pp. 115, 304. Cp. also pp. 85, 270. The French Admiral of Patrols, Faton, and the British Admiral Kerr, are equally emphatic in testifying "that all these stories about supplying the submarines were fabrications."—See Vice-Admiral Mark Kerr, in the Morning Post, 13 Dec., 1920.

[14] J. C. Lawson, Tales of Aegean Intrigue, pp. 93-143.

[15] Du Fournet, p. 304.

[16] Du Fournet, pp. 112-16. In this work we find a full picture of the French Secret Service. Unfortunately, or fortunately, no authoritative record has been published of its British counterpart. Mr. Lawson's account deals only with a provincial branch of the establishment.

[17] The New Europe, 29 March, 1917; Orations, pp. 142-3.



{95}

CHAPTER IX

When M. Venizelos taunted M. Skouloudis with forgetting that he had promised the Allies "not only simple neutrality, nor simply benevolent neutrality, but most sincerely benevolent neutrality," the aged Prime Minister, who apparently had a sense of humour, replied: "I do not know how there can be such a thing as benevolent neutrality. A neutrality really benevolent towards one of the belligerents is really malevolent towards the other, consequently it is more or less undisguised partiality. Between benevolence and malevolence there is no room for neutrality." He only knew, he said, one kind of neutrality—the absolute neutrality towards both belligerents.[1] And he lived up to his knowledge so conscientiously that he earned the gratitude of neither, but saw himself the sport of both.

No sooner had the Allies begun to fall back from Krivolak, than the German Military Attache at Athens presented to King Constantine a telegram from General von Falkenhayn, dated 29 November, 1915, in which the Chief of the German General Staff intimated that, if Greece failed to disarm the retreating Entente forces or to obtain their immediate re-embarkation, the development of hostilities might very probably compel the Germans and the Bulgars to cross her frontiers. After a consultation, the Skouloudis Cabinet replied through the King that Greece did not consent to a violation of her soil; but if the violation bore no hostile character towards herself, she would refrain from opposing it by force of arms on certain guarantees: that the Bulgars should categorically renounce every claim to territories now in Greek possession, that simultaneously with their entry into Macedonia Greece should be allowed to occupy Monastir as a pledge for their exit, that in no circumstance whatever should the King of Bulgaria or his sons enter Salonica, {96} that all commands should be exclusively in German hands, and so forth—altogether nineteen conditions, the principal object of which was to ward off the danger of a permanent occupation, but the effect of which would have been to hamper military operations most seriously.

The German Government, perturbed by the extent and nature of the guarantees demanded, referred the matter to Falkenhayn, who would only grant three comprehensive assurances: to respect the integrity of Greece, to restore the occupied territories at the end of the campaign, and to pay an indemnity for all damage caused. On those terms, he invited Greece to remove her army from Macedonia so as to avoid the possibility of an accidental collision. The King refused, giving among other reasons that such a concession had been denied to the Entente. Thereupon Falkenhayn asked, as an alternative to a total evacuation, that Greece should pledge herself to resist Entente landings in the Gulfs of Cavalla and Katerini. Again Greece refused, on the ground that this would involve the use of force against the Entente, whereas she was determined not to abandon her neutrality as long as her interests, in her own opinion, did not compel her so to do.[2]

After this answer, given on 27 January, 1916, conversations on the subject ceased for about six weeks.

Thus it appears that during the period when the Allies were, or professed to be, most nervous about the intentions of Greece, it was the fear of Greek hostility, carefully nursed by Greek diplomacy, that checked the Germans and the Bulgars from following up their advantage and sweeping the Franco-British troops into the sea. It was the same attitude of Greece that made the enemy hesitate to break into Macedonia during the following months, and gave the Allies time to fortify themselves.

On 14 March, Falkenhayn returned to the charge, and was once more met with a list of exorbitant conditions. This time the conversations assumed the character of recriminations; the Greek Government complaining of Bulgarian encroachments on the neutral zone fixed along the frontier, Falkenhayn retorting that the provocative movements of the Entente Forces obliged the Central Powers to fortify their positions and threatening a rupture {97} if the Greek soldiers continued to hinder the Bulgars.[3] Then, after another interval, he announced (7 May) that, owing to an English advance across the Struma, he found it absolutely necessary to secure in self-defence the Rupel Pass—key of the Struma Valley.[4]

M. Skouloudis endeavoured to make the German Government dissuade the General Staff from its project. Falkenhayn, he said, was misinformed as to an English advance—only small mounted patrols had crossed the Struma. He suspected that he was deceived and instigated by the Bulgars who, under cover of military exigencies, sought to realize their well-known ambitions at the expense of Greece. Their frequent misdeeds had already irritated Greek public opinion to such a degree that he could not answer for the consequences, should the project be carried out. The appearance of Bulgarian troops in Macedonia would create a national ferment of which Venizelos and the Entente Powers would take advantage in order to overthrow the present Ministry and force Greece into war.[5]

Impressed by these arguments, the German Government did its utmost to induce Falkenhayn to abandon his scheme; von Jagow even going so far as to draw up, with the assistance of the Greek Minister at Berlin, a remonstrance to the Chief of the General Staff. But it was all to no purpose. The political department had very little influence over the High Command. Falkenhayn insisted on the accuracy of his information, and adhered to his own point of view. He could not understand, he said, why a German move should cause any special excitement in Greece, seeing that it was directed against the French and the English, who paid no heed to Greek susceptibilities, and he irritably complained that, while Greece allowed the Entente full liberty to improve its position day by day, she raised the greatest obstacles to Germany's least demand.[6] In brief, from being more or less pliant, the Chief of the General Staff became rigid: he would no longer submit to rebuffs and denials. Strategic reasons, perhaps, had brought about this change; perhaps the Bulgars were the instigators. It is impossible to say, {98} and it does not much matter. The essential fact is that the man had power and meant to use it.

There followed a formal communication from the German and Bulgarian Ministers at Athens to M. Skouloudis, stating that their troops were compelled in self-defence to push into Greek territory, and assuring him that neither the integrity and sovereignty of Greece nor the persons and property of the inhabitants would in any way suffer by this temporary occupation. M. Skouloudis took note of this decision without assenting to it, but also without protesting: he felt, he said, that a premature protest could only lose Greece the guarantees of restoration and reparation offered. Sufficient unto the day the evil thereof: confronted with powerful Empires in the height of their military strength, he had done all that was humanly possible to ward off their advance, and, though unsuccessful in the end, he had at least obtained a solemn pledge of their ultimate retreat. The protest came a few days later, when the invasion actually took place.[7]

On 26 May, a Germano-Bulgarian force appeared at Rupel. The garrison, in accordance with its instructions of 27 April (O.S.) to resist any advance beyond 500 metres from the frontier line, fired upon the invaders and drove them back. But on fresh orders reaching it to follow the instructions of 9 March (O.S.)—which prescribed that, in the event of a foreign invasion, the Greek troops should withdraw—it surrendered the fort.[8]

In Entente circles it had long been assumed that, let the King and his Government do what they liked, the instant a Bulgarian foot stepped over the border, soldiers and civilians would fly to arms. Nothing of the sort happened. However painful to their feelings their orders might be, the soldiers obeyed them. Among the civilians also the shock, severe as it was, produced no demoralization. The Greek people generally understood that the surrender of Rupel was an inevitable consequence of the landing at Salonica. Nevertheless, the fears of M. Skouloudis that {99} a Bulgarian invasion would place a powerful weapon in the hands of his opponents were abundantly fulfilled.

By representing the event as the result of a treacherous collusion between Athens and the Central Powers,[9] M. Venizelos roused the Allied nations to fury. Their Governments, of course, knew better. Even in France official persons recognized that the occupation of Rupel was a defensive operation which Greece could not oppose by force. Yet they had hoped that she would have averted it by diplomatic action. As it was, they concluded that she must have received from the Central Powers very strong assurances that the occupied territories would be restored to her. In any case, they said, the Skouloudis Cabinet's passivity in face of a move calculated to prejudice the Allies' military position contradicted its oft-repeated protestations of a benevolent neutrality towards them.[10]

M. Skouloudis hastened to vindicate his conduct. He did not tell the Entente Powers, as he might have done, that he had by diplomatic action put off an invasion for six months, and thus enabled them to increase their forces and consolidate their position. Neither did he tell them another thing which in itself formed an ample refutation of the charge of collusion—that on 27 April (10 May) General Sarrail had occupied the frontier fort Dova-tepe with the tacit consent of the Hellenic Government, which had deliberately excluded that fort from the instructions of resistance issued that day to its troops, and that Greek officers urged him at the same time to occupy Rupel, dwelling on the military importance of the fort for the defence of Eastern Macedonia; an advice which the French General had ignored on the ground that Rupel lay altogether outside the Allies' zone of action, and he could not spare the troops necessary for its occupation.[11]

{100}

The Greek Premier simply said that his Government's passivity was in strict accord with the explicit declarations of its policy and intentions, enunciated at the very outset, ratified by the Agreement of 10 December, 1915, and reiterated ad nauseam to the Entente Ministers—viz., that "should the Allied troops by their movements bring the war into Greek territory, the Greek troops would withdraw so as to leave the field free to the two parties to settle their differences." Far from changing his attitude, he once more, in reply to M. Briand's threat that, "if the Bulgarian advance continued without resistance there might ensue the most serious consequences for the Hellenic Government," emphatically declared: "Resistance is only possible if we abandon our neutrality, and the demand that we should resist is therefore in flagrant contradiction to the oft-repeated protestations of the Entente Powers that they have neither the wish nor the intention to force us into the War." Nor could he understand how they could think of blaming Greece for receiving from the Central Powers the same assurances of eventual restoration as those given by themselves.[11]

M. Skouloudis spoke in vain. Paris had made up its mind to treat the incident as indicating a new and malevolent orientation against which it behoved the Allies to protect themselves. Accordingly, on 1 June, M. Briand authorized General Sarrail to proclaim a state of siege at Salonica.

General Sarrail, who had long sought to be freed from the trammels of Greek sovereignty—"et a etre maitre chez moi"—but had hitherto been denied his wish by the British Government, jumped at the permission, and he improved upon it with a personal touch, trivial yet characteristic. So far back as 27 April he had recommended that "we must strike at the head, attack frankly and squarely the one enemy—the King." Pending an opportunity to strike, he seized the occasion to slight. He fixed the proclamation for 3 June, King Constantine's name day, which was to be celebrated at Salonica as in every other town of the kingdom with a solemn Te Deum. {101} The British General, Milne, who had arranged to assist at the Te Deum, after vainly trying to obtain at least a postponement of the date out of respect for the King, found himself obliged to yield. And so on that festal morning martial law was proclaimed. Allied detachments with machine guns occupied various strategic points, the public offices were taken possession of, the chiefs of the Macedonian gendarmerie and police were expelled, and the local press was placed under a French censor. All this, without any preliminary notification to the Hellenic Government, which expressed its indignation that a French General, forgetting the most elementary rules of courtesy and hospitality, thought fit to choose such a moment for inaugurating a state of things that formed at once a gratuitous affront to the sovereign of the country and a breach of the terms of the Agreement of 10 December.[13]

But this was only a prelude, followed on 6 June by a blockade of the Greek coasts, established in pursuance of orders from Paris and London—pourpeser sur la Grece et lui montrer qu'elle etait a notre merci.[14] Even this measure, however, did not seem to M. Briand sufficient. He advocated intervention of a nature calculated to disarm our enemies and to encourage our friends. His views did not meet with approval in London: Sir Edward Grey had "des scrupules honorables," which M. Briand set himself to overcome by pen and tongue. The Entente Powers, he argued, were protectors of Greece—guarantors of her external independence and internal liberty. The Greek Government was bound to defend its territories with them against all invaders, and it had broken that obligation. Further, it had sinned by violating the Constitution. On both counts the Entente Powers had not only the right but the duty to intervene. Thus only could they justify, in the eyes of the Greek people, the blockade by which the whole population suffered, and which it would otherwise not understand. There was no time to lose: the dignity of France demanded swift and drastic action: the Athenians had gone so far as to ridicule in a cinema the {102} uniform of the heroes of Verdun. If England would not join her, she must act alone.[15]

These arguments—particularly, one may surmise, the last—overcame Sir Edward Grey's honourable scruples; and on 16 June a squadron was ordered to be ready to bombard Athens, while a brigade was embarked at Salonica for the same destination. Before the guns opened fire, hydroplanes would drop bombs on the royal palace; then the troops would land, occupy the town, and proceed to arrest, among others, the royal family. Such were the plans elaborated under the direction of the French Minister at Athens, much to the joy of General Sarrail, who had said and written again and again that "nothing could be done unless the King was put down." [16]

All arrangements for this "demonstration" completed, on 21 June the Entente Powers, "ever animated by the most benevolent and amicable spirit towards Greece"—it is wonderful to what acts these words often form the accompaniment—had the honour to deliver to her Government a Note by which they demanded:

1. The immediate and total demobilization of the Army.

2. The immediate replacement of the present Cabinet by a business Ministry.

3. The immediate dissolution of the Chamber and fresh elections.

4. The discharge of police officers obnoxious to them.

They admitted neither discussion nor delay, but left to the Hellenic Government the entire responsibility for the events that would ensue if their just demands were not complied with at once.

As M. Briand had anticipated, the sight of our warships' smoke quickened the Greek Government's sense of justice. King Constantine promptly complied, the "demonstration," to the intense disappointment of M. Guillemin and General Sarrail, was adjourned, and a Ministry of a non-political character, under the leadership of M. Zaimis, was appointed to carry on the administration of the country until the election of a new Chamber.[17]

The event marked a new phase in the relations between {103} Greece and the Entente Powers. Henceforth they appear not as trespassers on neutral territory, but as protectors installed there, according to M. Briand, by right—a right derived from treaties and confirmed by precedents.[18] Concerning the treaties all comment must be postponed till the question comes up in a final form. But as to the precedents, it may be observed that the most pertinent and helpful of all was one which M. Briand did not cite.

At the time of the Crimean War, Greece, under King Otho, wanted to fight Turkey, and realize some of her national aspirations with the assistance of Russia. But France and England, who were in alliance with Turkey against Russia, would not allow such a thing. Their Ministers at Athens told King Otho that strict neutrality was the only policy consonant with the honour and the interest of Greece: while hostilities lasted her commerce, as a neutral nation, would flourish, and by earning their goodwill she could, at the conclusion of peace, hope not to be forgotten in the re-making of the map of Eastern Europe. For refusing to listen to these admonitions King Otho was denounced as a pro-Russian autocrat, and the Allies landed troops at the Piraeus to compel obedience to their will.

Once more a Greek sovereign had drawn down upon himself the wrath of the Protecting Powers, with the traditional charges of hostile tendencies in his foreign and autocratic tendencies in his domestic conduct, for daring to adopt an independent Greek policy.

This time the three Powers were united in a common cause, which necessitated unity of action on all fronts. But it would be an error to imagine that this unity of action rested everywhere upon a community of views or of ulterior aims. Certainly such was not the case in Greece. France had her own views and aims in that part of the world. M. Briand was bent on bringing Greece into the War, not because he thought her help could exercise a decisive influence over its course, but because he wanted her to share in the spoils under French auspices: he considered it France's interest to have in the Eastern Mediterranean a strong Greece closely tied to her.[19]

{104}

That programme France intended to carry through at all costs and by all means. England and Russia, for the sake of the paramount object of the War, acquiesced and co-operated. But the acquiescence was compulsory and the co-operation reluctant. The underlying disaccord between the three Allies reflected itself in the demeanour of their representatives at Athens.

M. Guillemin, the French Minister, stood before the Greek Government violently belligerent. Brute force, accentuated rather than concealed by a certain irritating finesse, seemed to be his one idea of diplomacy, and he missed no conceivable opportunity for giving it expression: so much so that after a time the King found it impossible to receive him. Sir Francis Elliot, the British Minister, formed a pleasing contrast to his French colleague: a scrupulous and courteous gentleman, he did not disguise his repugnance to a policy involving at every step a fresh infringement of a neutral nation's rights. As it was, he endeavoured to moderate proceedings which he could neither approve nor prevent. Prince Demidoff, a Russian diplomat of amiable manners, seconded Sir Francis Elliot's counsels of moderation and yielded to M. Guillemin's clamours for coercion.[20]

It is important to bear this disaccord in mind in order to understand what went before and what comes hereafter: for, though for the most part latent, it was always present; and if it did not avert, it retarded the climax.



[1] Orations, p. 155; Skouloudis's Semeioseis, p. 36.

[2] White Book, Nos. 70-4, 79, 81, 84, 86-90.

[3] White Book, Nos. 92, 93, 96-102.

[4] White Book, No. 104.

[5] White Book, Nos. 106, 111, 113.

[6] White Book, Nos. 110, 112, 116.

[7] White Book, Nos. 117-20, 134, 135; Skouloudis's Apantesis, pp. 25-6.

[8] White Book, Nos. 95, 105, 126, 130-33, 137. The instructions of 27 April had been issued chiefly in consequence of information that bands of Bulgarian irregulars (Comitadjis) were at that moment preparing to cross the frontier. Skouloudis's Apantesis, p. 23.

[9] The charge was supported by garbled "extracts" from the instructions to the Greek troops (the full texts of which may now be read in the White Book), published in Paris. See the Saturday Review, 10 Sept., 1921, pp. 321-2, citing the Petit Parisien of Dec., 1916.

[10] White Book, Nos. 140, 146.

[11] Sarrail, p. 104. Anyone familiar with the political and psychological atmosphere would have seen that the Greeks were anxious to keep the Bulgars out by inducing the French to forestall them. But Sarrail detected in their advice a subtle contrivance either to find out his plans, or to cast the blame for the loss of Rupel on him!

[12] White Book, No. 142.

[13] Journal Officiel, p. 72; Sarrail, pp. 105-8, 112, 355-7; White Book, Nos. 142, 145.

[14] Sarrail, p. 113.

[15] Journal Officiel, pp. 72-3.

[16] Sarrail, pp. 115-24; Du Fournet, pp. 91-3.

[17] Journal Officiel, p. 99; Sarrail, pp. 125-7; Du Fournet, p. 93.

[18] Journal Officiel, pp. 72, 73.

[19] Romanos to Zaimis, Paris, 26 Aug./8 Sept., 1916.

[20] See Du Fournet, pp. 110-11.



{105}

CHAPTER X

In their Note of 21 June the Allies assured the Greek people that they acted for its sake as much as for their own. One half of the preamble was taken up by their grievances against the Skouloudis Government—its toleration of foreign propagandists and its connivance at the entry of enemies, which formed a fresh menace for their armies. The other half was devoted to the violation of the Constitution by the dissolution of two Chambers within less than a year and the subjection of the country to a regime of tyranny. Their aim, they said, was to safeguard the Greek people in the enjoyment of its rights and liberties.[1]

These generous sentiments left the Greek people strangely cold. Indeed, the absence of any manifestations of popular joy at the Allies' success was as striking as had been the manifestations of resentment at the means employed. The only persons who did applaud the action were the persons whose party interests it served. The Venizelist Press hailed the triumph of violence as a victory for legality. M. Venizelos addressed to M. Briand his felicitations, and gave public utterance to his gratitude as follows: "The Note solved a situation from which there was no other issue. The just severity of its tone, the sincerity of its motives, its expressly drawn distinction between the Greek people and the ex-Government, give it more than anything else a paternal character towards the people of this country. The Protecting Powers have acted only like parents reclaiming a son's birthright." [2]

Pared down to realities, the aim of the Protecting Powers was to bring their protege to power and Greece into the War. The demobilization of the army, which stood first on their list, was the first step to that end. M. Venizelos {106} had been asserting that the people were still with him, and, given a chance, would uphold his policy, but that chance was denied them by the mobilization. With a pardonable ignorance of the people's feelings, and also, it must be owned, with a too naive confidence in the accuracy of the People's Chosen, the Allies had decided to act on this assumption: an assumption on which M. Venizelos himself was most reluctant to act.

We have it on his own evidence that he looked for a solution of his difficulties, not to an election, but to a revolution. Further, he has told us that, eager as he might be for a revolutionary stroke, he could not lose sight of the obstacles. To those who held up French revolutions as a model, he pointed out that the analogy was fallacious: in France "long years of tyranny had exasperated the people to its very depths. In Greece the people had a king who, only two years earlier, had headed his armies in two victorious campaigns." [3] So he scouted the idea of intervention at Athens, convinced that any attack on the Crown would spell destruction to himself.[4] His project was to steal to Salonica and there, under General Sarrail's shield, to start a separatist movement "directed against the Bulgars, but not against the king," apparently hoping that the Greek troops in Macedonia, among whom his apostles had been busy, fired by anti-Bulgar hate, would join him and drag king and country after them. This project had been communicated by the French Minister at Athens to General Sarrail on 31 May:[5] but, as the British Government was not yet sufficiently advanced to countenance sedition,[6] M. Venizelos and his French confederate saw reason to abandon it for the present.

Thus all concerned were committed to a test of the real desires of the Greek people by a General Election, which they declared themselves anxious to bring off without delay—early in August. This time there would be no ambiguity about the issue: although the Allies in their Note, as was proper and politic, had again disclaimed any {107} wish or intention to make Greece depart from her neutrality, M. Venizelos proclaimed that he still adhered to his bellicose programme, and that he was more confident of victory than ever[7]: had not the Reservists been set free to vote, and were not those ardent warriors his enthusiastic supporters? With this cry—perhaps in this belief—he entered the arena.

It was a lively contest—rhetoric and corruption on both sides reinforced by terrorism, to which the Allies' military authorities in Macedonia, and their Secret Service at Athens, whose efficiency had been greatly increased by the dismissal of many policemen obnoxious to them, and by other changes brought about through the Note of 21 June, contributed of their best.

But even veteran politicians are liable to error. The Reservists left their billets in Macedonia burning with anger and shame at the indignities and hardships which they had endured. The Allies might have had among those men as many friends as they pleased, and could have no enemies unless they created them by treating them as such. And this is just what they did: from first to last, the spirit displayed by General Sarrail towards the Greek army was a spirit of insulting distrust and utterly unscrupulous callousness.

Unable to revenge themselves on the foreign trespasser, the Reservists vowed to wreak their vengeance on his native abettor. They travelled back to their villages shouting: "A black vote for Venizelos!" and immediately formed leagues in the constituencies with a view to combating his candidates. The latter did all they could to exploit the national hate for the Bulgars and the alarm caused by their invasion. But fresh animosities had blunted the edge of old feelings: besides, had not the Bulgarian invasion been provoked by the Allies' occupation, and who was responsible for that occupation? For the rest, the question, as it presented itself to the masses, was no longer simply one of neutrality or war. Despite M. Venizelos's efforts, and thanks to the efforts of his adversaries, his breach with the King had become public, and {108} the division of the nation had now attained to the dimensions of a schism—Royalists against Venizelists. Nor could there be any doubt as to the relative strength of the rival camps.

Thus, by a sort of irony, the action which was designed to clothe Venizelos with new power threatened to strip him of the last rags of prestige that still clung to his name. Therefore, the elections originally fixed for early in August were postponed by the Entente to September.

Such was the internal situation, when external events brought the struggle to a head.

With the accession of 120,000 Serbs, 23,000 Italians, and a Russian brigade, the Allied army in Macedonia had reached a total of about 350,000 men, of whom, owing to the summer heats and the Vardar marshes, some 210,000 were down with malaria.[8] Nevertheless, under pressure from home and against his own better judgment,[9] General Sarrail began an offensive (10 August). As might have been foreseen, this display of energy afforded the Bulgars an excuse, and the demobilization of the Greek forces an opportunity, for a fresh invasion. M. Zaimis, in view of the contingency, imparted to General Sarrail his Government's intention to disarm the forts in Eastern Macedonia, so that he might forestall the Bulgars by occupying them. But again, as in May, the Frenchman treated the friendly hint with scornful suspicion.[10] There followed a formal notice from the German and Bulgarian Ministers at Athens to the Premier, stating that their troops were compelled, by military exigencies, to push further into Greek territory, and repeating the assurances given to his predecessor on the occupation of Fort Rupel.[11]

The operation was conducted in a manner which belied these assurances. Colonel Hatzopoulos, acting Commandant of the Fourth Army Corps, reported from his headquarters at Cavalla that the Bulgarian troops were accompanied by irregular bands which indulged in murder {109} and pillage; that the inhabitants of the Serres and Drama districts were fleeing panic-stricken; and that the object of the invaders clearly was, after isolating the various Greek divisions, to occupy the whole of Eastern Macedonia. He begged for permission to call up the disbanded reservists, and for the immediate dispatch of the Greek Fleet. But the Athens Government vetoed all resistance, and the invasion went on unopposed.[12] By 24 August the Bulgars were on the outskirts of Cavalla.

Truth to tell, the real authors of the invasion were the Allies and M. Venizelos, who, by forcing Greece to disarm before the assembled enemy, practically invited him. But it was not to be expected that they should see things in this light. They, as usual, saw in them a new "felony"—yet another proof of King Constantine's desire to assist the Kaiser and defeat M. Venizelos[13]—and acted accordingly.

M. Venizelos opened the proceedings with a meeting outside his house on Sunday, 27 August, when he delivered from his balcony a direct apostrophe to the King—an oration which may have lost some of its dramatic effect by being read out of a carefully prepared manuscript, but which on that account possesses greater documentary value:

"Thou, O King, hast become the victim of conscienceless counsellors who have tried to destroy the work accomplished by the Revolution of 1909, to bring back the previous maladministration, and to satisfy their passionate hate for the People's Chosen Leader. Thou art the victim of military advisers of limited perceptions and of oligarchic principles. Thou hast become the victim of thy admiration for Germany, in whose victory thou hast believed, hoping through that victory to elbow aside our {110} free Constitution and to centre in thy hands the whole authority of the State." After enumerating the disastrous results of these errors—"instead of expansion in Asia Minor, Thrace, and Cyprus, a Bulgarian invasion in Macedonia and the loss of valuable war material"—the orator referred to the elections and warned the King that persistence in his present attitude would involve danger to the throne: "The use of the august name of Your Majesty in the contest against the Liberal Party introduces the danger of an internal revolution." The discourse ended with another scarcely veiled menace to the King: "If we are not listened to, then we shall take counsel as to what must be done to rescue all that can be rescued out of the catastrophe which has overtaken us." [14]

It was not an empty threat. The Chief spoke on Sunday, and on Wednesday his followers at Salonica rose up in revolt and, supported by General Sarrail, took possession of the public offices, set up a revolutionary committee under a Cretan, and launched a war proclamation for Macedonia on the side of the Entente. The Royalist troops, after some fighting, were besieged in their barracks, starved into surrender, and finally shipped off to the Piraeus, while many civil and ecclesiastical personages were thrown into prison. The French General received notice that M. Venizelos himself would arrive on 9 September to take command of the movement.[15]

Concurrently with this first product of the plot hatched between M. Venizelos and M. Guillemin in May, was carried on the more orthodox mode of action inaugurated by the Allied Governments in June. At the news of the Bulgarian invasion, the French Minister at Athens felt or feigned unbounded fear—tout etait a redoubter: even a raid by Uhlans to the very gates of the capital—and asked Paris for a squadron to be placed at his disposal. Paris did what it could. On 26 August Admiral Dartige du Fournet was ordered to form a special squadron and proceed against Athens according to the plans drawn up {111} in June. He immediately left Malta at the head of thirty-four ships, and on the 28th arrived at Milo, where he found a British contingent of thirty-nine ships awaiting him. The joint armada thus formed was believed to be strong enough to preclude all danger of resistance. For all that, every precaution was taken to secure to it the advantage of a surprise, though in vain: its size and the proximity of its objective rendered secrecy impossible.

Four days were wasted in idleness—a delay due to England's scruples. But at last all was ready; and on the morning of 1 September the Allied Fleet stood out to sea: seventy-three units of every description, the big ships in single file, flanked by torpedo-boats, steaming bravely at the rate of fifteen knots, and leaving behind them a track of white-crested waves that stretched to the very edge of the horizon: le coup d'oeil est impressionant.

All arrangements for battle had been made, and each contingent had its special role assigned to it: only the Intelligence Services, being otherwise occupied, had failed to furnish any information about Greek mines and submarines. It was therefore necessary to be more than ever careful. But the six hours' voyage was accomplished safely, and not until the armada cast anchor at the mouth of the Salamis Strait did it meet with a tangible token of hostility. The Greek Admiral commanding the Royal Fleet before the arsenal of Salamis—a force composed of two ironclads, one armoured cruiser, eighteen torpedo-boats and two submarines—failed to bid the Allies welcome: a breach of international rules which was duly resented and remedied.

The expedition had for its objects: (1) To seize a dozen enemy merchantmen which had taken refuge since the beginning of the War in the harbours of Eleusis and the Piraeus; (2) to obtain the control of Greek posts and telegraphs; (3) to procure the expulsion of enemy propagandists, and the prosecution of such Greek subjects as had rendered themselves guilty of complicity in corruption and espionage on the wrong side.

Of the first operation, which was conducted to a successful issue that same evening "with remarkable activity" by one of Admiral Dartige's subordinates, no justification was attempted: we needed tonnage and took it. The {112} pretext for the second was that the Allies had heard "from a sure source" that their enemies were furnished by the Hellenic Government with military information. So serious a charge, if made in good faith, should have been supported by the clearest proofs. Yet even Admiral Dartige, whose disagreeable duty it was to prefer it, bitterly complained that "he never received from Paris a single proof which could enlighten him." On the other hand, he did receive abundant enlightenment about the "sure source": the Russian Minister needed to send a cipher message to the American Embassy at Constantinople which was entrusted with Russian interests, and, the Hellenic Government readily agreeing to transmit it through its Legation at Pera, Prince Demidoff, with the consent of his Entente colleagues, proceeded to make use of the Athens wireless for that purpose. Within forty-eight hours the Admiral received from Paris an excited telegram asking him what measures he had taken to prevent the Hellenic Government from "violating its engagements." The rebuke, explains the Admiral, was the result of a sensational report from the head of the French Secret Intelligence at Athens, denouncing the above transaction as an example of "the bad faith of the Greeks." On this pretext all the means by which the Hellenic Government could communicate with its representatives abroad and reply to the attacks of its enemies passed under the Allies' control.

Somewhat less neat were the methods adopted to secure the third object of the expedition. The Secret Services had compiled a voluminous register of undesirable persons out of which they drew up a select list of candidates for expulsion and prosecution. Unfortunately, despite their industry, it teemed with embarrassing errors: individuals put down as Germans turned out to be Greeks; and the suspects of Greek nationality included high personages, such as M. Streit, ex-Minister for Foreign Affairs, General Dousmanis and Colonel Metaxas, ex-Chiefs of the General Staff, and so on. At last an expurgated list was approved and carried out summarily.[16] Some of the criminals escaped punishment by transferring their services from the German to the French and British propagandas; for, {113} while to intrigue with the former was to commit a crime, to intrigue with the latter was to perform a meritorious deed.

There the Allies and M. Venizelos stopped for the moment, hoping that Rumania's entry into the War, which had just taken place, would induce Greece to do likewise.



[1] Journal Officiel, p. 99.

[2] The Daily Mail, 24 June, 1916.

[3] The New Europe, 29 March, 1917.

[4] Du Fournet, p. 91.

[5] Sarrail, pp. 107, 354-5.

[6] "L'Angleterre avait mis son veto."—Sarrail, p. 153.

[7] See his statement to the Correspondent of the Paris Journal, in the Hesperia, of London, 7 July, 1916.

[8] Du Fournet, p. 99.

[9] Caclamanos, Paris, 1/14 June, 1916.

[10] M. Zaimis's deposition on oath at the judicial investigation instituted by the Venizelos Government in 1919. Cp. Sarrail, p. 152.

[11] White Book, Nos. 158-60.

[12] White Book, Nos. 161-5.

[13] "The King, having no illusions as to the result of an election," says M. Venizelos, in the New Europe, 29 March, 1917, "organized, in connivance with the Germans and Bulgarians, the invasion of Western and Eastern Macedonia. As the Liberals thus lost about sixty seats, the King might hope . . . to secure at least some semblance of success at the coming elections." On the first opportunity that the people of Macedonia, Eastern and Western alike, had of expressing their opinion—at the elections of 14 Nov., 1920—they did not return a single Venizelist.—See Reuter, Athens, 15 Nov., 1920.

[14] For the Greek original, see the Hesperia, 1 Sept., 1916. A much longer text, apparently elaborated at leisure, with a colourless English translation, was published by the Anglo-Hellenic League.