By 3 December calm had descended on Athens. But echoes of the storm
continued reverberating in Paris and London. In Paris it was asserted,
and in London repeated, that the French Admiral had fallen into a
cunningly laid trap: King Constantine had promised to hand over his war
material; but when the Allies landed to receive it, he caused them to
be treacherously attacked and murdered.[1] On the strength of this
assertion, the Entente newspapers demanded punishment swift and
drastic: a prince who broke faith deserved no pity. His offer of six
batteries was "an atonement" both cynical and inadequate for the
"ambush" by which French and English blood had been spilt. Similarly
the internecine strife of 2 December and the subsequent proceedings
against the Venizelists were depicted as a wanton hunt of harmless and
law-abiding citizens. Day by day the stream of calumny, assiduously
fed from the fountain-head at Salonica, grew in volume and virulence;
and King Constantine was branded with every opprobrious epithet of
liar, traitor, and assassin.
These were weapons against which the King of Greece and his Government
had nothing to oppose. They tried to explain the true nature of the
abortive Benazet negotiation, showing that, if there was any breach of
faith, it was not on their part; they denounced the falsehoods and the
exaggerations relating to the suppression of the seditious outbreak;
they asked that a mixed Commission should be appointed to conduct an
impartial inquiry on the spot while the events were still fresh and
evidence abundant. The French and British Press Censors took care that
not a whisper of their defence should reach the French and British
publics.[2] Frenchmen and Englishmen {163} might hear of M.
Venizelos's deeds through his friends. They were allowed to hear of
the King's only through his enemies. It was clear that the policy
which had prompted the disastrous enterprise of 1 December had not yet
worked itself out to its full issue.
Admiral Dartige could not very well endorse the breach of faith legend.
He knew that the engagement about the delivery of arms was reciprocal,
and that, as France had failed to ratify it on her part, King
Constantine rightly considered himself free from all obligations on his
part. He also knew that, far from being lured into landing by false
assurances of surrender, he had been emphatically warned against it by
categorical refusals and intimations of resistance. Yet, human nature
being what it is, the honest sailor, maddened by his discomfiture,
called the inevitable collision a "_guet-apens_" and, even whilst
negotiating for release, he meditated revenge.
To him the peace arranged through the instrumentality of the Entente
Ministers was but a "_sorte d'armistice_." He had agreed to it only in
order to extricate himself from his present difficulties and to gain
time for resuming hostilities under more favourable conditions. He and
his men, he tells us with an engaging candour, were at the mercy of the
Greeks: had he not accepted the King's offer--outnumbered, surrounded,
and without food or water for more than twenty-four hours--they would
have been ignominiously arrested. Besides, the configuration of the
ground sheltered the Greek troops from the naval fire, while the
Legations both of the Entente and of neutral Powers lay exposed to it.
Lastly, a continued bombardment might have driven the Greeks to
exasperation and perhaps to a massacre of Entente Ministers and
subjects. It was imperative to give the Allies and neutrals time for
flight and himself for serious war preparations. The delivery of the
whole stock of arms had been fixed by his Ultimatum for 15 December.
In that fortnight he proposed to obtain from his Government the forces
necessary {164} for a battle, and permission to bombard Athens in
earnest--with or without notice to its inhabitants, but, of course,
always with due regard for its _monuments historiques_.
Such was his plan. General Sarrail embraced it with ardour; the Paris
Government sanctioned it; troops began to arrive and French and British
residents to flee (3-5 Dec.). But very soon difficulties became
manifest. The transports had brought men and mules, but no provisions
for either. Greek volunteers and regulars mustered in defence of their
capital. The British Admiral declined to take part in any war
operations. The French Minister dreaded open hostilities. In the
circumstances, Admiral Dartige found it expedient to "give proof of his
spirit of self-denial," by renouncing his heroic dream of vengeance
"_immédiate, retentissante,_" and by advising Paris not to set up a new
front at Athens: after all, the matter was not really worth a war. He
now proposed, instead, a pacific blockade; and, Paris assenting, he
proclaimed the blockade as from 8 December.[3]
With this act Admiral Dartige du Fournet's career came to a sudden end.
A few days later the French Government deprived him of his command and
placed him on the retired list. After a decent interval, the British
Government decorated him with the Grand Cross of the Bath.[4] Whether
his conduct entitled him to a decoration, his character should
certainly have saved him from disgrace; for of all the men engaged in
these transactions, he seems to have been the most respectable. No
impartial reader of his book can fail to see that he blundered because
he moved in the dark: it was never explained to him what political
designs lay beneath the pretended military necessities; and the
constant incongruity between the avowed aims of his employers and the
steps dictated by his instructions tended to bewilder a mind devoid of
all aptitude or appetite for diplomacy.
Admiral Dartige gone, the blockade was carried on by his successor,
Admiral Gauchet. The Greeks took it as an accustomed evil. "This
measure," wrote one of their {165} leading journals, "cannot terrify a
population which has faced with serenity and fortitude much greater
dangers. The Hellenic people did not hesitate, when the need arose, to
come into collision with four Great Powers in defence of its
independence and honour. It did so without hate, without perturbation,
but calmly, as one performs an imposed and unavoidable duty. It
deliberately chose to risk annihilation rather than see its fatherland
disarmed and enslaved. It preferred a hopeless struggle to
degradation. To-day it is threatened with the spectre of famine. It
will face that spectre with serenity and fortitude. The menace is
aimed at its stomach: very well, the people will tighten its belt." [5]
At the same time, Paris, London, and Petrograd were vigorously
discussing the demands which were to be enforced by the blockade; but,
owing to the wide divergences of opinion existing between the various
Cabinets, decisions could only be reached by degrees and dealt out by
doses. Not until 14 December did the Entente Governments deliver
themselves of the first-fruit of their travail: Greece was to keep the
arms of which she could not be despoiled, but she should remove them,
as well as her army, from the northern regions bordering on Macedonia.
The Hellenic Government was given twenty-four hours in which to comply;
refusal would constitute an act of hostility, and the Allied Ministers
would forthwith leave Athens.[6]
To show that they were in earnest, the French and British Ministers
embarked on two ships moored at the Piraeus, where they awaited the
Hellenic Government's reply; and, before the time-limit expired, the
French Admiral, by a notice put up at the Piraeus town-hall, warned the
inhabitants to close their shops and retire to their homes by 4 p.m. in
view of an impending bombardment of Athens.
The Hellenic Government acceded to the contents of the Ultimatum, and
immediately gave orders for the removal of troops and war material.[7]
This prompt compliance was received by the people of Greece with {166}
loud disapproval. They criticized vehemently their rulers' readiness
to yield as pusillanimous and injudicious. The Government, they said,
instead of profiting by the events of 1 December to clear up the
situation, drifts back into the path of concessions which led to those
fatal events: it encourages the Entente Powers to put forward
increasingly exorbitant pretensions, and, forgetting that it is for us
to complain and claim better treatment, it creates the impression that
they are in the right and we in the wrong. For some time past such had
been the tone even of moderate critics; and upon this fresh submission
there was a general outcry of alarm. It is true, the Allies in their
Note averred that they demanded the removal of troops and guns simply
and solely "in order to secure their forces against an attack." But
the Greeks were less inclined than ever to treat the alleged danger to
the Allied army in Macedonia as anything more than a pretext: the true
object, they maintained, was to secure M. Venizelos's return and the
expulsion of King Constantine.
The conduct of the Entente representatives hitherto had given only too
much ground for such bitter suspicions, and the search of Venizelist
houses had recently produced concrete evidence, in the form of a letter
from the Leader to one of his adherents stating, among other things,
that a definite agreement concluded between him and the representatives
of the Entente Powers assured his speedy domination of Athens through
the whole strength of the Entente. The publication of this document,
with a photographic facsimile,[8] had confirmed the apprehensions which
had long haunted the popular mind. Nor did M. Venizelos's indignant
denial of its authenticity, or the Entente Ministers' emphatic
protestation that never, since the Cretan's departure from Athens, had
they done anything to facilitate his return, shake the conviction that
the big coup was planned for 1 December.
If any doubts as to the Allies' ulterior aims still lingered, they were
dispelled by their Press, the most serious organs of which, on the eve
of Admiral Dartige's landing, pointedly referred to the great error
committed by the Powers in allowing King Constantine to dismiss M.
Venizelos in September, 1915, and urged that the time had come to {167}
remedy that error, informing their readers that England, France and
Russia were not bound to guarantee the possession of the Greek throne
to any individual sovereign, irrespective of his constitutional
behaviour. The coup having failed, the same organs, in commenting on
the Allies' present Ultimatum, still declared that the true remedy for
Greece was to place her under the control of M. Venizelos; but, as such
a course was not possible in the presence of a hostile King and an
over-excited army, the first necessity was to eliminate the Greek
army.[9]
However, the Greeks submitted to it all with sullen resignation: they
had learned that the wisest thing for the weak is to control themselves.
The next step remained with the Entente Governments, who were exhorted
by their Press organs not to be deluded by King Constantine's
concessions. For it was one of the ironies of the situation that,
while his own subjects blamed the King for his conciliatory attitude,
that attitude was denounced by his enemies as a fresh instance of
duplicity. They affirmed--with what amount of accuracy will appear in
the sequel--that this great deceiver was making, in concert with the
Kaiser, stealthy preparations for war against the Allies, and that
meanwhile he intended by a semblance of submission to lull them into a
false security. Extreme measures were, therefore, needed, not only to
punish him for his past crimes, but also to prevent Greece from
becoming a base of hostile operations in the near future.
Thus certain in advance of public support, the Allies, on 31 December,
served upon the Hellenic Government a series of demands divided into
guarantees and reparations. Under the first heading, Greece was
required to transfer all her arms and munitions to the Peloponnesus,
which, being practically an island, could be guarded by the Allied
Fleet; to forbid all Reservist meetings north of the Peloponnesus; to
enforce rigorously the law prohibiting civilians from carrying arms; to
admit the re-establishment of the foreign controls over her police,
telegraphs, telephones, and railways. Under the second, all persons
detained on charges of high-treason, conspiracy, and sedition, should
be immediately released, and those who {168} had suffered indemnified;
the General commanding the Athens garrison on 1 December should be
cashiered; formal apologies should be tendered to the Allied Ministers
and their flags publicly saluted in the presence of the assembled
garrison. On their part, the Powers gave Greece a formal undertaking
that they would not allow the forces of the Salonica Government to take
advantage of the withdrawal of the Royal troops from Thessaly in order
to cross the neutral zone. They ended with the announcement that the
blockade would be maintained until satisfaction had been accorded on
all the above points, and that they reserved to themselves full liberty
of further action should the attitude of the King's Government give
them fresh cause for complaint.[10]
Before returning a definite answer to this Note, the Hellenic
Government submitted a Memorandum by which it promised forthwith the
reparations demanded, except the wholesale release without trial of
political prisoners; and accepted in principle the demand for
guarantees on condition that the Powers, on their part, should give an
absolute and irrevocable guarantee against the extension of the
revolutionary movement, not only across the neutral zone, but over any
territories which had not been annexed by the Salonica Committee before
1 December, pointing out that this was an indispensable requisite to
reassure the nation and induce it to acquiesce in total disarmament.
In conclusion, the Hellenic Government expressed the hope that, as
total disarmament would put Greece out of all possibility of hurting
the Allies, they would renounce the liberty of further action which
they had reserved to themselves, and that they would, in justice to the
people, raise the blockade.[11]
In reply, the Allies launched another Ultimatum: insisting upon the
definite acceptance of their demands. If such acceptance were not
forthcoming within forty-eight hours, or if, after an undertaking was
given, any obstacles were wilfully placed in its execution, they
threatened to have recourse to their military and naval weapons. On
the other hand, they promised to respect Greece's resolution {169} to
keep out of the War, and pledged themselves not to allow the adherents
of the Salonica Government to take advantage of the withdrawal of the
Greek troops into the Peloponnesus in order to invade by land or by sea
any part whatever of Greek territory thus left defenceless, or to
permit the installation of Venizelist authorities in any territories
actually in the possession of the Royal Government which they might see
fit to occupy hereafter for military reasons. Lastly, they signified
their readiness to raise the blockade as soon as special delegates
should judge that the evacuation of troops and material had been partly
carried out, and that its completion was assured.[12]
These pledges, which had been the subject of acute discussion between
the Allies at the Rome Conference, and were carried in face of strong
opposition from France, marked another victory of moderation over
consistency. That they lessened the alarm of the Greek people may be
doubted; but the Greek people had by this time found that if it wanted,
not only to live at peace, but to exist at all, it had to accept the
situation on the Allies' own terms.
As to the rulers, they understood the popular feeling, sympathized with
it, shared it. But their powerlessness prevented them from refusing
terms which their pride compelled them to resent. They could not
entertain seriously thoughts of active resistance, unless the Allies
were attacked by the Germans; but how little prospect of this there was
has been revealed by a number of messages exchanged at that period
between Athens and Berlin. From these documents it appears that on 6
December the Queen, whose indignation at the long-sustained persecution
had been brought to a head by the bombardment of her home and the
narrow escape of her children, telegraphed to her brother, anxiously
inquiring when the Germans would be ready for a decisive offensive in
Macedonia. On 16 December the Kaiser replied to his sister, condoling
with her on the ordeal she and her husband had gone through,
congratulating them on the courage they had displayed, pointing out
that the Entente had once more {170} shown clearly what its real aims
were, and expressing the opinion that no other course was left to King
Constantine but "to turn openly on his executioners: Tino's
intervention with his main forces against Sarrail's left wing would be
decisive," he said. The Queen answered, on 26 December, that the
solution the Kaiser advised would be possible only if Sarrail, attacked
by the Germans, were forced to retire into the parts of Greece occupied
by the Royalists: as it was, the distance which separated his left wing
from them was too great and their lines of communication would be too
much exposed: besides, their provisions and munitions were not
sufficient for a prolonged struggle. Under these conditions, she
added, only a speedy attack by the Germans could afford Greece the
opportunity of fighting for deliverance from a frightful situation.
But Von Hindenburg did not see his way to promise an attack.
Meanwhile, the pressure of the blockade increased. By 2 January, the
Queen, as her indignation cooled, prepared to resign herself to the
situation: "We have bread only for a few days more, other provisions
are also running short," she telegraphed, "consequently war against the
Entente is out of the question now. I consider the game lost." Her
husband concurred.[13]
The King and his Ministers also knew that, unless they accepted the
Allies' terms, worse would be forced upon them by starvation. Clearly,
the first thing to be done was to have the blockade raised. So far the
little ship had contended with the gale hardily--in fact,
foolhardily--coming out of the contest with scarce a sail. Captain and
crew at last decided to give up the unequal struggle: the gale appeared
to have almost spent itself: conversations for peace were at that
moment in progress between the belligerents: at the worst, things would
go on much as they had been going on, until the end of the War put an
end to the sorry drama. So, on 10 January, after an all-night sitting
of the Crown Council, Greece made her {171} unconditional surrender:
she would drain the cup of humiliation to its bitterest dregs.[14]
To all seeming, the pledges given by both sides formed a solid basis
for a _modus vivendi_: the King gave guarantees thoroughly safeguarding
the Allies against any danger, real or imaginary; and the Allies gave
guarantees equally safeguarding the King against seditious intrigues.
All that remained was that the Allies should exact from the King a
fulfilment of his engagements, and fulfil their own. They did not fail
in the first part of the programme. The transfer of troops and
armaments to the Peloponnesus was scrupulously carried out under the
supervision of an Allied Military Commission, which counted and
examined every man, every gun, every rifle and cartridge both at the
point of departure and at the point of arrival. The Reservists'
leagues were dissolved, and the people, in so far as such a measure is
possible, were compelled to give up the firearms, mostly obsolete, in
their possession. The foreign Controls, so far as the Hellenic
Government was concerned, might be re-established at the Allies'
discretion. The Venizelist prisoners were set free, and a mixed
Commission was in due course appointed to deal with the question of
indemnities. The General commanding the Athens garrison was cashiered.
Formal apologies were tendered to the Allies' Ministers, and their
flags were saluted with all the solemnities prescribed by themselves.
In brief, on the unanimous testimony of Entente diplomatists and
publicists, Greece loyally fulfilled every one of her obligations,
serious and frivolous.[15] Yet, despite her Government's reiterated
prayers that the blockade should in accordance with the promise given,
be raised, the blockade was not only continued, but, as the months
dragged on, was intensified.
[1] See _Le Temps_ and _The Times_, 4 Dec., 1916.
[2] Zalocostas to Greek Legations, Paris, London, Petrograd, Rome, 24
Nov./7 Dec.; 25 Nov./8 Dec.; 26 Nov./9 Dec. 28 Nov./11 Dec.; Metaxas,
Paris, 24 Nov./7 Dec; 2/15 Dec. Delyannis, London, 3/16 Dec., 1916.
The documents containing the King's promises to M. Benazet were not
published until 1918 (see _The Times_, April 22, 1918); while those
containing M. Benazet's promises to the King became known only through
the publication of Admiral Dartige du Fournet's book in 1920.
[3] Du Fournet, pp. 226-9, 234, 256-7, 260-2, 266, 269-72.
[4] Du Fournet, pp. 272-4, 284-5. He complains bitterly of the
injustice of his treatment: he was condemned unheard--like King
Constantine; and for a similar reason: "_un débat large et public await
établi toutes les responsabilités_."
[5] The _Nea Himera_, 25 Nov./8 Dec., 1916.
[6] Guillemin, Elliot, Bosdari, Demidoff, Athens, 1/14 Dec., 1916.
[7] Zalocostas to the Legations of France, England, Italy, and Russia.
Athens, 2/15 Dec., 1916.
[8] The _Nea Himera_, 21 Nov./4 Dec., 1916.
[9] See leading articles in _The Times_, 30 Nov., 16 Dec., 1916.
[10] Guillemin, Elliot, Demidoff, Piraeus, 18/31 Dec., 1916.
[11] Zalocostas to Legations of France, England and Russia, Athens, 23
Dec,/5 Jan., 1917.
[12] Guillemin, Bosdani, Demidoff, Erskine, Salamis Strait, 26 Dec./8
Jan., 1917.
[13] In his one message (6 January) he dwelt on Greece's critical
condition, asking if a German attack was intended, and when it would
probably take place. Such is the gist of these famous telegrams. For
the rest, they consist of allusions by the Queen to her sufferings and
appropriate epithets applied to the authors of them. See _White Book_,
Nos. 177 foll.
[14] Zalocostas to Legations of France, England, Italy and Russia, 28
Dec./10 Jan., 1917.
[15] See _The Times_, 20, 23, 24, 30 Jan., 1917.
{172}