The Vintage: A Romance of the Greek War of Independence

by E. F. Benson

"You have hit the very point," he said, "towards which I have been making. Half, as you say, is put away for the purposes of the war, and though I think that is too large a proportion, still the question is only one of degree, and we will pass it over. Half again, as you say, is shared among those who acquire it. There is the blot, the defect of the whole system. What are we fighting for? For wealth or for liberty? Surely for liberty and the glory of God! To fight in such a cause, and to fall in such a cause, is surely an exceeding reward. But what of the glory of God? Is it not to Him that this, no niggardly tithe, but half the goods we possess, should be given? Is it not He who has given us the strength to fight, and the will before which even now the Turk is crumpling as a ship crumples the waves? And for this shall we give Him nothing? Shall every peasant possess his hoard taken from the Turk, and the church of God go begging? Have we not given our lives to His service, without hope of reward indeed, but very jealous for His honor? And how shall we serve Him as we ought, when our churches stand half ruined to the winds of heaven, and our monks, to support themselves, must needs hoe in the fields and vineyards, and bring but a tired frame to the blessed service of the church? Is it not there this should be bestowed—on the church, on the priests and the primates, on the heads and princes of the church, to be used by them for the glory of their Master? Some of us, I know, would wish to endow a king to rule over a free people, in royal obedience, for so they phrase it, to a people's will. Is it not enough to have for our king, our Master, our tender Friend, the King of kings? This only is the kingdom whose citizenship I covet, for it is beyond price, and it is but a dubious love for Him that is ours, if we give Him, as we fondly tell ourselves, our hearts, and withhold from Him our gold and silver. Not in such manner worshipped the kings of the East. Long was their journey, and yet we who fight are not more footsore than they; but did they come empty-handed to worship? Gold and frankincense and myrrh they gave, their costliest and their best. Heart worship let us give, and lip worship too, and let our hands be open in giving; it is in giving that we show, poorly indeed, but in the best and only way, the sincerity of our hearts. Ah, it is no pale spiritual kingdom only that God requires, but the pledge of it in a glorious liberality, the fruits of His bounty given to Him again. Let there be a splendor in our service to Him, riches, wealth, all that is beautiful, poured out freely; it is our duty to give—yes, and our privilege."

Petrobey and Nicholas both listened in dead silence, for they respected the man, and they revered his office. Of the honesty and integrity of his words, too, neither felt any question; but when in the history of warfare had ears ever heard so impracticable a piece of rhetoric? Did Germanos really suppose that these soldiers of theirs were risking life, possessions, all that they had, for the sake of the heads of the church? Already the primates had done infinite harm by their pretentious meddling, giving themselves the airs of deposed monarchs, for whom it was a privilege to fight, and encouraging seditious talk among the men by hinting openly that the military leaders were in league with the Turks, making conventions with them by which their lives should be spared on the sacrifice of their property. Germanos himself, as they knew, was a man of far different nature; this scheme of his, by which half the booty should be placed unreservedly in the hands of the heads of the church, to be used for the glory of God, was as sunshine is to midnight compared to the vile slanderings of his inferiors. But how would the army receive it? Was Petrobey, as commander-in-chief, or Germanos, as head of this people of God, to go to them, saying, "You have risked your lives, and it is your privilege to have done so for the glory of God; risk them to-morrow and the next day and the next day, and when the war is over, and unless you lie on the battlefield, you creep back to your dismantled homes, account it a privilege that you have been permitted to give to the primates and priests the fruits of your toil"?

Yet, though Germanos was accounted a man of integrity both by Petrobey and Nicholas, how could there but be a background to the picture he had drawn? He was a man to whom power and the exercise of power had become a habit, and the habit almost a passion. Though this scheme, by which the church would be restored to its old splendor and magnificence, the glory of those days when from Constantinople came the emperor humbly and suppliantly with great gifts, had for its object the glory of God, yet inasmuch as he was a man of dominant nature he could not be unaware nor disregardful of what it would mean to him personally. What a position! The chances were ten to one that he would be chosen to fill the places of the martyred patriarch, instead of the Bishop Eugenios, well known to the Greeks as a middle-minded man, who strove to keep well with both Ottoman and Greek. For, in truth, this was no time for diplomatic attitudes; each man must take one side or the other, and now to consent to take from the hands of the Sultan the insignia of his victim was to declare one's self no patriot. Greece would certainly repudiate the appointment and choose a supreme head for itself, and among all the primates and bishops there was none who was so powerful with his own class, and so popular among the people, as Germanos. As every one knew, he had thrown himself heart and soul into the revolution; he had raised the northern army, he had headed the attempt on the citadel of Patras in person. The chosen head of a new and splendid church, rising glorious in the dawn of liberty, sanctified by suffering, proved by its steadfastness to endure, a church for which blood had been shed, and, as he had said, no pale spiritual kingdom only, but a power on earth as in heaven! It was not in the nature of the man to be able to shut his eyes to that; it could not but be that so splendid a possibility should be without weight to him. His next words showed it.

"Is it not a thing to make the heart beat fast?" he went on. "I would not take the pontiff's chair in Rome in exchange for such a position. A new church, or rather, the old grown gloriously young again, a spiritual kingdom throned in the hearts of men, yet with the allegiance not only of their souls, but of their bodies and their earthly blessings. And I," he said, rising, "I, the unworthy, the erring, yet called by a call that I may not disobey."

But Nicholas, frowning deeply, interrupted him.

"I ask your pardon, father," he said, "but is it well to talk of that? Surely in this great idea which you have put before us there is nothing personal. It is the kingdom of God of which we speak."

Germanos paused a moment.

"You are right," he said; "you have but reminded me of my own words; it is in His name and none other that I speak."

"There is another point of view, father," continued Nicholas, "which, with your permission, I will put before you. I speak, I hope, as it is fitting I should speak to you; and yet, in mere justice to the position my cousin and I hold, we must tell you that there are other interests to be considered. For days past there has been division among us, here not so widely as at other places, but division there is—and that, too, at a time when anything of the kind is most disastrous. There are in the camp priests and primates who have been saying to the men, but not with your nobleness of aim, that which you have indicated to us. This war, they tell them, is a war of religion; they are the champions and ordained ministers of religion, and it is to them the soldiers' obedience is due. What did they get for their pains? A shrug of the shoulders, insolence, perhaps the question, 'Are we fighting or are you?' And they answer, 'For whom are you fighting? For your captains and leaders, let us tell you; it is they who will reap the fruits of your toil; it is they who will get the booty for which you have spent your blood and left your homes.' Now, before God, father, that is a satanic slander; but if this talk continues, who can tell but that it may become in part true? For as the army increases we have to appoint fresh captains, and often it happens that some band of men come in with their appointed leader, whom we have to accept. These are not all such men as my cousin and I should naturally appoint; and what we fear is this; and our fears, I am sorry to say, are justified by what is taking place at Monemvasia. These captains talk to each other, saying, 'The primates are trying to get the whole spoils of the war for themselves. Two can play at that game. If this war is for the enrichment of the leaders, let it be for the enrichment of the leaders who have done the work.' And some of this talk, too, has reached the men, with this result: some believe what the primates say, and already distrust their captains; some distrust the primates, and say that it is not they who are doing the work, and why should they look for wages? But the most part of those who have heard this seditious talk distrust both, and are each man for himself. And all this is the fault of the primates. This is no place for them; for those of them, at least, who have taken no part in the war. It is the work of soldiers we are doing, not the work of priests. The danger is a real one; as you say, it is a danger from those who sit at meat with us, and more deadly and more intimate than that we experience from our enemies. There was none of it before the primates came among us. I have said."

Nicholas spoke with rising anger; the thought of these mean, petty squabbles poisoned the hopes which had ruled his life for so long. Were they all to be wrecked in port on the very eve of their fulfilment? Strong as the Greek position now was, inevitable though the fall of Tripoli appeared, yet he knew that an army demoralized is no army at all. Was the honey to turn to bitterness? Was that fair day that seemed now dawning to come in cloud and trouble?