CHAPTER XXXVII

THE BLOCKADE OF GREECE

I took possession of my double charge of the (to me) most interesting

of all foreign lands, Greece and Italy, at a moment when affairs were

quickening for new troubles in the former, where demagoguery had again

taken the upper hand. Comoundouros was dead, and Tricoupi, who had

succeeded, as I had long before anticipated that he would, to the lead

in Greek politics, had fallen, as he had foretold, on the question of

taxation. The new successor to the bad qualities of old Comoundouros,

Deliyanni, in his electoral programme had promised to relieve the

people of all taxation, and had, of course, been elected, and I found

Tricoupi still at the head of the opposition. I had stayed at

Rome only long enough to take possession of my place and have a

conversation with the Italian Minister of Foreign Affairs, General

Robilant, as to the course which Italy would follow if there were

troubles in Greece, and received his assurance that Italy would stand

with England, whatever might happen.

Robilant was one of the ablest ministers of foreign affairs Italy has

had in my time, and, if not the most conspicuous occupant of that

position in intellectual qualities, he certainly was so, with one

exception--that of Baron Blanc--in sound common sense and a large and

comprehensive perception of the situation of Italy amongst the powers,

and her true affiliations. To him, more than to any other individual

Italian, was due the entry of Italy into the Triple Alliance, a

measure which has probably been very largely instrumental in keeping

the peace between the European powers ever since it was formed. Simple

and reserved in his manner to a correspondent, he was entirely frank

and courteous in communicating what could be communicated, and quietly

silent beyond. Always the butt of the most savage hostility of the

Italian radicals, he resigned the year after, though supported by the

majority in the Chamber, rather than expose himself longer to the

vulgar and brutal partisan insolence of Cavallotti and his allies in

the Chamber. As individual, as soldier, and as minister, Robilant was

the type of the Italian at his best. Very few of the extreme Left in

the Italian Chamber made any pretensions to a comprehension of the

nature of a gentleman, and the vulgarity of the outbreak which

provoked his resignation--it was on the occasion of the disaster of

Dogali--was of a nature which only a hardened politician could adapt

himself to. It was my first experience of the indecencies of Italian

parliamentarism, and, when he left the Chamber under the unendurable

insults poured on him in language adapted only to street broils, I

said to a colleague that he would never appear again in the Chamber. I

was right, for, though the ministry obtained a vote of confidence, and

he was urged to withdraw his resignation, he refused. In his charge

the foreign policy of Italy was at its best.

I found affairs at Athens in a critical condition. Deliyanni was

trying the game of bluff which had succeeded in the hands of

Comoundouros, but with quite a different measure of competence. With

Deliyanni it was an evident sham. He had promised war without the

least intention of preparing for it, in the childish expectation that

Europe would oblige the Sultan to make some concession which would

save his credit in the country and enable him to continue in office.

But circumstances were different; Greece had on the former occasion a

valid claim, admitted by the powers, while on this there was only the

pretension that Greece should receive a compensation for betterments

acquired by Bulgaria. In the former, the Treaty of Berlin had

sanctioned the cession; in the latter, there was only the bare

impudence of Mr. Deliyanni to move the powers. The ministry called out

class after class of the reserves and sent them northward, but made no

effective preparation for war; the men were ill-clad, worse provided,

and everything was lacking to make them ready for a campaign. The

casual observer could see that war was not intended, and that

Deliyanni was silly enough to believe that the agents of the powers

did not see through his sham, and thought that he could frighten them.

The men on the frontier finally amounted to about 45,000 men, kept

there as a scarecrow to the powers at an expense, ascertained from the

safest authorities, of 1000 deaths per month. The powers insisted on

demobilization. Deliyanni replied by waving his torch and threatening

to set fire to Europe if they did not give him a province; and

meanwhile the Turkish government was gathering a solid force of about

40,000 men on the menaced frontier, and preparing silently to march on

Athens.

The common people of the city, ignorant of everything connected with

war, and inflamed by the jingo official press, conceived that nothing

was needed but to set the Greek army in motion to insure a triumphant

march on Constantinople, and were shouting for the troops to cross the

frontier. Deliyanni had never had the least intention of making war,

but he dared not withdraw for fear of his own people and the war fever

he had inoculated them with. The worst feature in the position was

that he had armed and provided with large quantities of ammunition the

entire population of the Greek frontier, and the irregulars so formed

had no discipline and obeyed no orders, but began each on his own

account to harass the Turkish outposts. The Turks, obedient to their

orders, contented themselves with repelling these minute stings,

keeping their own side of the frontier, and waiting till the attack

developed to take up a solid and thoroughly prepared offensive. The

summons came from the powers to demobilize, or the Greek coast would

be blockaded. This was Deliyanni's only escape from a terrible

disaster to the country, or the personal humiliation of withdrawal he

would not submit to, with the added risk of violence on the part of

the mob of the city, fired to a safe and flaming enthusiasm by the

reports continually coming in of new victories on the frontier,

each little skirmish with a picket being invariably followed by the

withdrawal of the Turks to a position well within their own territory,

according to the general order to accept no combat under actual

conditions, so that the least skirmish was magnified at Athens to

a new victory. The summons to demobilize was met by a point-blank

refusal, when the fleets of the powers--Russia and France

excepted--entered on the scene, and the blockade of the Greek coast

was declared. This saved the credit of the ministry with the country;

and Deliyanni, protesting against intervention as a measure on behalf

of the Sultan, and hostile to Greece, resigned, but gave no orders to

his commandants on the frontier to withdraw, and the skirmishing went

on. The King in this crisis behaved well, and put Deliyanni in the

alternative of demobilizing or resigning; and, when he chose the

latter course, the King called Tricoupi to form a ministry.

Tricoupi's position was difficult. He protested against the blockade

as an unwarrantable interference with the freedom of action of Greece,

as he considered that the government should have been allowed on its

own responsibility to make war and take the consequences, as the only

method of teaching the Greeks how to fulfill their international

obligation. But the withdrawal of the diplomatic representatives of

the great powers, whose fleets were blockading the coast, had left

him without any channel of communicating with the powers, either for

protesting or for yielding, and the fighting was increasing in extent

if not in intensity. On the day, too, on which Tricoupi accepted the

charge, the Turkish commander had received his orders to cross the

frontier on the next day and march on Athens if the annoyance were

not stopped. A great extent of the frontier was not provided with the

telegraph, and the chosen partisans of Deliyanni were in command, and

determined to force a conflict. The blockade prevented Tricoupi from

sending officers by sea to take over the command, and there was not

time to send them by land. General Sapunzaki was the only general

officer on whom the minister could depend to obey orders, and he could

reach only a part of the line on which the fighting was going on.

There was no subordination and no general plan in the offensive;

but each detachment of troops on the frontier made war on its own

responsibility, and the Turks contented themselves with repelling

attacks.

I went to the telegraph office to get the late advices in the

afternoon of the last day of the fighting, when it had become very

general all along the frontier. Tricoupi had sent imperative orders to

cease hostilities, but the telegraph had been cut, probably by some

one who wanted the war to ensue, and when I found Tricoupi at the

telegraph in the afternoon in conversation with Sapunzaki over

the wire, he turned to me with an expression of intense distress,

exclaiming, "They are fighting again all along the line, and if it

cannot be stopped at once we are lost." "Can I do anything?" I asked.

He replied, "I should be glad if you would go to Baring" (who had been

sent to take charge of the legation, but with no diplomatic powers or

relation with the Greek government) "and tell him the position, and

ask him to telegraph to his government to urge Constantinople to send

word to Eyoub Pasha that the Greek government had given stringent

orders to stop the fighting, and ask him to coöperate."

It was an intensely hot day in the end of May, and the streets of

Athens, deserted by the population, were an oven; not a cab was to be

found on the square or in the streets. I ran to the British legation,

fortunately found Baring there, and explained the position, saying

that Tricoupi, in the absence of any diplomatic relation between them,

had begged me to present myself personally to urge intervention.

Baring was convinced that Tricoupi, as well as the late premier, was

bent on war, and would not at first believe that his request was

sincere, but finally, overpersuaded, did telegraph to London. I then

flew to all the other legations, except the French and Russian,

which had been supporting Deliyanni, and repeated the request to the

secretaries in charge, winding up with the Turkish minister, whose

ship had not yet arrived, and who was therefore still in Athens,

pending its arrival, and gave him the fullest explanation of

Tricoupi's position and the difficulties of it, and begged him to

telegraph Constantinople to order Eyoub Pasha to withdraw from the

frontier far enough to leave the bands no outlying detachment to

attack. I succeeded in convincing him that Tricoupi was sincere in his

efforts to keep peace, and the good fellow said at once, "If Tricoupi

is sincere, I will not stand on diplomatic etiquette, but will go to

see him at once." He did so, and found the Greek minister at the war

office, as he had taken that portfolio with the premiership, and

they arranged between them that the Porte should be telegraphed to,

requesting Eyoub Pasha to put a sufficient distance between him and

the attacking bands of Greeks to make a conflict out of the question;

and before nightfall the white flag was flying along the frontier, and

communication established between Eyoub and Sapunzaki via Salonica,

and peace was secured.

Eyoub's orders to cross the frontier with his solid column of thirty

to forty thousand men, and march straight to Athens if the attacks

persisted another day, were peremptory, and there was no force or

dispositions of defense to prevent his triumphal movement. There were

no defensive works, for the jingo Greeks ridiculed the idea of needing

a defensive preparation against an invasion of the Turkish army, which

they were confident of annihilating ten to one. There was no lack of

personal courage on the part of the Greek population, but there was no

efficient organization even of the so-called regular army, and there

was really nothing to prevent a Turkish walk-over as far as the old

frontiers of Greece, and even there there were no earthworks.

The sequence was disgraceful and humiliating. I wrote at the time that

"The wounded are not yet all in the hospitals when the attacks on

Tricoupi for having ordered the demobilization already begin in the

Chamber and the press. His happy arrival at the moment of danger has

saved Greece from, a disaster which, now that it is averted, the

Greeks in general will never believe to have been so near, and will

not accept as a lesson." And for the trifling part I had taken in the

final negotiations I was afterwards insulted in the streets of Athens

as having "prevented the Greeks from marching to Constantinople." They

got their lesson years after, when they were far better prepared for

war than on this occasion. But Tricoupi was right when he said that

the blockade was a mistake, and that the powers should have allowed

the Greeks to take their own course and learn their lesson.

Undiscriminating Philhellenism has been the worst enemy of Greece.

The flurry over and quiet restored, the heat, the excitement, and the

hard and unremitting work and anxiety of that month of May told on

me, and I broke down with an attack of nervous prostration and acute

dyspepsia, by which I was quite incapacitated from movement. Taking

the first steamer to Naples, I passed the rest of the summer at Rome,

disabled, until the heats had passed, for any considerable exertion.

But, contrary to the general superstition regarding Rome, it is a

city where one may pass the summer months most agreeably if not very

actively. The English ambassador of that time, Sir John Saville

Lumley, afterwards Lord Saville of Burford, to whom I owe many

delightful hours in that and subsequent years, used to say that he

knew no city where one could pass the year so delightfully as in Rome.

By strict diet and an activity limited to the hours of the early

morning and afternoon I weathered the summer, but each return of the

heats during the succeeding six years brought me a relapse, so that

on the whole I paid a long penalty for my participation in Greek

politics.

The Autobiography of a Journalist, Volume II · 第 18 / 21 章