[CHAPTER VII]
THE RULE OF THE SENATE
From this conversation among the three sprang into being the Peloponnesian Senate, than which no more futile apparatus has ever been devised to guide the affairs of a nation. From the first harmony was impossible between the two parties, and the only result it achieved worth mentioning was that it diverted the time and energies of the military leaders from the work to which every muscle should have been strained—the fall of Tripoli. So far from reconciling the divisions among the soldiers, it merely encouraged partisanship, for it was known that the senate could not agree on any point worth the deliberation. Petrobey was more than once tempted to resign his seat, but to do that was only to throw the wavering balance of power firmly into the hands of the primates, while between Nicholas and Germanos there ripened, as bitter as a Dead-Sea apple, an enmity only to be reconciled at a death-bed, for Germanos, so Nicholas considered, and did not scruple to say, had deceived both him and his colleague. He had professed the highest, most altruistic aims; what guided his conduct was the most selfish and personal policy. This, it is to be feared, was partly true, though not entirely, for Germanos had been sincere when he opened to the two his scheme for the glory of the church; but finding supremacy, like the fruit of Tantalus, still dangling beyond, but seemingly only just beyond, his reach, and stung intolerably at his failure, the personal motive crept in, and before long usurped the place of the other.
Nicholas had hoped great things from the arrival of the prince; but they, too, were doomed to be disappointed. He was given an enthusiastic welcome by the army, the majority of whom were sickened with this atmosphere of intrigue, and Petrobey instantly took his place as his subordinate; but the prince gave him to understand that it was his wish that the conduct of the siege should continue in the same hands. Germanos, too, welcomed him cordially, with a due recognition of his position, for he hoped to win him over to the side of the church. For the time it seemed that some solution of their difficulties was imminent, and in the hands of a stronger man, no doubt, such universally recognized authority would have found a means of reconciliation.
But Prince Demetrius was terribly unfitted for the responsibility. His principles were honorable, but by nature he was weak and undecided. He inclined first to one party, then to another, with no diplomatic yielding, which will give an inch to gain a yard, but with the pitiful futility of one who has no knowledge of men, no habit of command, and no certainty of himself. To the soldiers this weakness manifested itself openly, and unhappily not erroneously, in his personal appearance. He was under middle height; his manner, always stiff and awkward, was sometimes insolent, sometimes timid—an unfortunate demeanor, for he was neither the one nor the other, but only excessively self-conscious and shy. His face was thin and pinched, and his hair, although he was only thirty-two, was already gray and scanty, giving him a look of premature old age. Being short-sighted, he blinked and peered, as Mitsos said, like a noonday owl, and his voice was querulous and high-pitched. Yet he was of an upright mind, indifferent to danger, and free from the besetting sin of his race, avarice. All these outward defects corresponded but too well with the inadequacy of his nature; a strong man with not so honorable a heart as he had might easily have filled his post better, and the uprightness of his character, at a crisis where uprightness was the quality wanted, could not make itself felt, but which to the army and the council was but the bubbling that came from a man half drowned, when what was wanted was a firm voice and a loud and no drowning cry. Moreover, he was morbidly sensitive about his own dignity and position, and there was something comically tragical to see that puny frame with bent shoulders presiding over a company of strong men, and hear that little screechy voice prating of "My wish" and "My command." On one side of him sat Germanos, courtier-like and full of deference, plying him with his titles, as the nurse gives suck to a baby, while the prince, drinking like a child, would be well pleased, and pipe, "What you say is very true. It is my wish that the church should be fully recognized. Yes, quite so, my dear archbishop; but I think our friend, the gallant commander of this army, of which I, as the commander-in-chief, as the viceroy by the wish of the Hetairia—yes, exactly—has something to say on the subject."
Then Petrobey would lay before the prince the urgent need of doing one thing before all others. Tripoli must be taken; surely the claims of the two parties could be settled afterwards. That was the work most important to them. For three weeks now since the beginning of June had they waited at Trikorpha, and the provisions of the array were already beginning to be exhausted. The herds were being thinned, the lower pasture was drying up in the summer heat. Must not steps be taken here at once? And Prince Demetrius would answer something in this manner:
"What you say is very true, my dear Petrobey, and I quite agree with you that there is no time to be lost. Would you not form a committee and deliberate what is to be done, and then submit your results to me to receive my sanction? You spoke, I remember, about the formation of some cavalry corps; a very wise plan I thought it, and I meant to have some talk with you about it. But really the days have slipped by so. Yes, we must, indeed, be up and doing, and my orderly has just informed me, gentlemen, that dinner is ready; and I shall be pleased to see you, my dear archbishop, and you, commander, at my table. Dinner will be served immediately, and our deliberations, gentlemen, in which I think we may say we have made some solid progress, will be adjourned till to-morrow at the usual hour."
Nicholas saw that there was no help here, and he set himself to thwart Germanos with all his power. He considered that the presence of the primates in the camp rendered the army powerless, for it was eaten up with intrigue, slander, and incessant accusation, provoking counter-accusation. At the meetings of the senate he opposed Germanos on every point, whether or no his suggestions were honorable or expedient, and allying himself with any one who would join him in upholding the army against the church, ranged himself side by side with crooked and unscrupulous men like Poniropoulos and Anagnostes, mere brigands and adventurers, who, without any motive but their own greed, had got together a band of peasants, and were in command of a mere disorderly rabble; men who in his soberer moments he knew were as detestable as, in his furious anger against Germanos, he thought the primate to be. Every day the meetings of the senate grew more and more disorderly, and gradually Prince Demetrius saw that he was no more than a cypher in the eyes of these men. Of personal ambition Nicholas had none; honestly and with his whole heart he cared for nothing but the success of the revolution and the extermination of the Turk, and he used his great power and influence for the defeat of the intriguing primates, being convinced that till the question between the two parties was settled nothing could be done. At any rate, he was free from all stings of conscience; his conduct might be unwise, but he acted from impeccable motives, and there was enough truth in his allegations against Germanos to give them a sting that was wellnigh unforgivable.
It was already more than half-way through June, and still the army remained inactive. Petrobey had so far succeeded in rousing the prince as to permit him to make arrangements for regular supplies being sent to the camp; but there was still no talk of an assault on Tripoli, or indeed any preparations for ensuring its success. The senate had met as usual that morning, and the meeting had degenerated into a fierce brawl between Anagnostes and Nicholas on the one side, and Germanos and Charalambes on the other. It was in vain that the prince tried to restore order; they listened to him no more than to a buzzing fly, when at length Germanos, bitten to the quick by some intolerable taunt of Nicholas's, rose from the table, saying he would take no further part in the deliberations of the senate.