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 Attaché 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-tépé 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 à être maître 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 Grèce et lui montrer qu'elle était à 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}