Never was promise more faithfully kept. Within the Chamber it soon became a parliamentary custom to refute by main force. Sometimes Liberal Deputies volunteered for this service; sometimes it was performed by the Captain of the Premier's Cretan Guard, who of course had no seat in the House, but who held a revolver in his hand.
Out of Parliament the iron hand made itself felt through the length and breadth of the country.
With a view to "purging and uplifting the judiciary body" and "securing Justice from political interference," [3] all the courts were swept clean of Royalist magistrates, whose places were filled with members of the Liberal Party. In this way the pernicious connexion between the judicial and political powers, abolished in 1909—perhaps the most beneficial achievement of the Reconstruction era—was re-established, and Venizelism became an indispensable qualification for going to law with any chance of obtaining justice.
An equally violent passion for purity led at the same time, and by a process as unconstitutional as it was uncanonical, to ecclesiastical reforms, whereby the Holy Synod was deposed and an extraordinary disciplinary court was erected to deal with the clerical enemies of the new regime, especially with the prelates who took part in the anathematization of M. Venizelos. Only five bishops were found in Old Greece competent or compliant enough to sit on this tribunal; the other seven came from Macedonia, Crete, and Mytilene, though those dioceses were under the jurisdiction of the Patriarch of Constantinople, whose sanction was neither asked nor given. With the exception of six, five of whom belonged to the disciplinary court, all the prelates of the Kingdom were struck by it: some were degraded and turned out to subsist as they might, on charity or by the sale of their holy vestments; others were sentenced to humiliating punishments; and {209} where no plausible excuse for a trial could be discovered, exile or confinement was inflicted arbitrarily. On the other hand, as many as repented received plenary absolution. For instance, the Bishops of Demetrias and Gytheion were deprived for having cursed M. Venizelos; but on promising in future to preach the gospel according to him, they were not only pardoned, but nominated members of the second disciplinary court created to continue the purification of the Church. Even more instructive was the case of the Metropolitan of Castoria who was tried, convicted, and confined in a monastery, but after recanting his political heresies was retried, unanimously acquitted, and reinstated. All this, in the words of the Speech from the Throne, "to restore the prestige of the Church."
Side by side went on the reform of every branch of the Administration. All the Prefects, and many lesser functionaries, were discharged. Schoolmasters and schoolmistresses were dismissed by the hundred. The National University, the National Library, the National Museum, the National Bank, underwent a careful disinfection. In every Department the worst traditions of the spoils system prevalent before 1909 were revived and reinvigorated. Other measures marked an improvement on tradition. Some two thousand Army and Navy officers, from generals and admirals downwards, were put on the retired list or under arrest. And an almost hysterical desire manifested itself to strike terror into every civilian whom his opinions rendered objectionable and his position dangerous to the new order: tactics the full brutality of which was revealed in the treatment of M. Venizelos's principal adversaries.
M. Rufos, a former Cabinet Minister, languished in the Averoff gaol from 1917 until the spring of 1920, when the Athenian newspapers announced his release. About the same time M. Esslin, an ex-President of the Chamber, who had been imprisoned at the age of seventy-eight in the Syngros gaol, was released by death.
All the members of the Skouloudis Cabinet, with the exception of Admiral Coundouriotis, Minister of Marine who had afterwards proved his patriotism by enlisting under the Cretan's banner, were arraigned for high treason, {210} referring mainly to the surrender of Fort Rupel. The preliminary examination dragged on from year to year and produced only evidence which established the innocence of the accused.[4] One of them, ex-Premier Rallis, in April 1920, after being for years libelled as a traitor, suddenly found himself exempted by Royal Decree from further persecution, because at that time M. Venizelos conceived the hope that this statesman might be induced to undertake the leadership of an Opposition accepting his regime. The rest, particularly M. Skouloudis and M. Dragoumis, one aged eighty-two and the other seventy-seven, after a long confinement in the Evangelismos Hospital, remained to the end under strict surveillance, with gendarmes guarding their houses and dogging their footsteps.
The Lambros Cabinet was similarly harassed, until one of its members turned Venizelist and three others died; among the latter M. Lambros himself and his Minister for Foreign Affairs, M. Zalocostas. Both these gentlemen, though in poor health, had been confined on desolate islets of the Archipelago, where they were kept without proper medical attendance or any of the comforts which their condition required, and were only brought home to expire.
In each case—as also in that of the soldiers responsible for the surrender of the Cavalla garrison, whose "treasonable" conduct became likewise the subject of judicial investigation—trial was sedulously deferred by a variety of ingenious contrivances; nothing being more remote from the Government's mind than an intention to draw the truth into the light. The motive of these proceedings doubtless was one of policy chiefly—to ruin the enemies of the regime in public esteem by branding them as traitors, even if no conviction could be obtained. But policy was not the only element. To judge by the harshness displayed, there was the personal factor, too. M. Venizelos had had a feud with these men and had vanquished them. They were men whom, all things considered, it was more a shame to fight than an honour to vanquish—and they were humbled: they were in his power. For a proud spirit that would have been enough; it was not enough for {211} M. Venizelos. He acted as if he wanted to enjoy their humiliation, and because he had them down to profit by their helplessness.
Identical treatment could not be meted out to those in Corsica and Switzerland, though some of them were sentenced to death by default for conspiring against M. Venizelos. But all that could be done from a distance to embitter their lot was done. Whilst at home the blackest calumnies were thrown upon them: in exile they were pursued by the same blight. Special attention was directed to the "arch-traitor." He had been dethroned and expatriated; but this was not enough. His pension was cut off. He and all the members of his family, with the exception of Prince George, who stayed in Paris, were forbidden to visit Entente countries, even for the purpose of attending the death-bed of a relative. Entente subjects visiting Switzerland were forbidden to go near them: lest any particle of the truth should percolate. Until the end of the War they lived segregated, shunned, and spied upon like malefactors. During the Liberal regime in Greece, while Italian and Swiss hotels flourished all the year round on Royalist refugees, Royalist exiles populated the semi-desert islands of the Archipelago: they were gathered in batches and shipped off—persons of every degree, from general officers whose guilt was attachment to their King, down to poor people convicted of owning the King's portrait. For the possession of a portrait of Constantine supplied one of the most common proofs of "ill-will towards the established order" (dysmeneia kafa tou kathestotos)—a new crime invented to meet a new constitutional situation. It extended to the utmost confines of the kingdom. As the farmers were at work in the fields, gendarmes raided and ransacked their cottages for such portraits; butchers and fishmongers were haled before courts-martial for like indications of ill-will; and—matter for laughter and matter for tears are inseparable in modern Greek history (perhaps in all history)—one met a cabman beaten again and again for calling his horse "Cotso" (diminutive of "Constantine"), or a woman dragged to the police-station because her parrot was heard whistling the Constantine March. Volumes would be needed to record the petty persecutions which arose from {212} the use of that popular name: suffice it to say that prudent parents refrained from giving it to their children.