Whether he had any right to cherish such hopes, after accepting financial assistance from their enemies, is a very nice ethical point; but a nicer point still is, whether the Allies had any right left to question the ethics of others. M. Skouloudis doubtless could plead in self-justification that his remaining armed was admittedly a boon to them, as much as his remaining neutral was a boon to their enemies; and that both sides should therefore help to defray the cost. He was impartial. However, his hopes were dashed to the ground.
{88}
On 5 April the French and British Ministers called on the Premier and informed him that the Servian army at Corfu, having sufficiently rested and recovered, the Entente proposed to transport it to Salonica through Greece, and they had no doubt that Greece would readily consent. M. Skouloudis replied that Greece could not possibly consent. The transport of over 100,000 men across the country would mean interruption of railway traffic and suspension of all economic life for at least two months; it would expose the population to the danger of infection by the epidemic diseases from which the Serbs had been suffering; above all, it would be regarded by the Central Powers as a breach of neutrality and might force Greece into the War against her will. M. Skouloudis urged these reasons with all the firmness, and more than all the plainness, that diplomacy allowed, ending up with an emphatic: "No, gentlemen, such a thing we will not permit. I declare this to you officially."
"Our Governments," retorted the French Minister, "have not instructed us to ask for your permission, but to notify to you their decision."
M. Skouloudis was a proud old man, fiercely jealous of his country's independence and inflexible in his defence of it. Of his iron determination he had already given the Allies ample proof. But hitherto he had kept his gathering indignation under control. He could do so no longer: the Frenchman's speech and, more than the speech, the manner in which it had been delivered, were too much for his feelings.
"And I," he repeated, "declare to you that my Government's decision is not to permit this overland passage—further, I declare to you that, in the contrary event, I shall find myself under the necessity of blowing up the railway,"—then, in a crescendo of rage, he went on: "You have left us nothing sound in this country—neither self-respect, nor dignity, nor liberty, nor the right to live as free men. But do not forget that there is a limit to the most benevolent patience and to the most willing compliance, that one last drop makes the cup overflow. . . ."
The British Minister, seeing that the conversation with his colleague grew every moment more tempestuous, interposed by asking if Greece would equally object to a {89} sea-passage of the Serbs by the Canal of Corinth; and, the Cabinet having been consulted, a favourable answer was given. But meanwhile the demand for an overland passage was pressed by the Servian Minister, and was supported by all the Entente representatives. Again M. Skouloudis gave a categorical refusal, and in a telegraphic circular to the Greek Ministers in London, Rome, and Petrograd—experience had taught him that it was worse than useless to argue with Paris—he reiterated the reasons why Greece could not consent, laying special stress on the now inflamed state of public opinion, and pointing out that the dangers of the sea route were greatly exaggerated since most of the journey would be through close waters. He added that, in view of the absence of any real military necessity for an overland transport, and of the international consequences which compliance involved, the whole civilized world would justify Greece in her refusal and condemn any coercion on the part of the Entente as an outrage. He concluded by requesting the Greek Ministers to place all these reasons before the respective Governments in order that, on realizing the iniquity of the project, they might use all their influence to dissuade the French Government from it. England appreciated the force of M. Skouloudis's arguments and, thanks to her, diplomatic pressure ceased. But there remained another form of pressure, from which France would not desist.
M. Briand angrily declared that, under the circumstances, there could be no talk of a loan. M. Skouloudis pleaded that Greece had not asked the loan as a price for the violation of her neutrality; she had asked it on the supposition that the Entente Powers could not see with indifference her military and economic paralysis.[8]
The plea made no impression; and, rebuffed by Paris, M. Skouloudis's Government once more turned to Berlin. It received another credit of forty million marks; but, notwithstanding this supply, day by day it saw its expenses increasing and its revenues diminishing. Besides the men under arms, there were crowds of destitute refugees from Turkey, Bulgaria and Servia to be provided for, and the native population, owing to the rise in the cost of living {90} and to unemployment, also stood in urgent need of relief. At the same time, customs and other receipts became more and more precarious owing to the Allies' constant interference with the freedom of commerce.[9]
Truly, after the Allies' landing on her soil, the neutrality of Greece became something unique in the annals of international jurisprudence: a case defying all known maxims, except Machiavelli's maxim, that, when placed between two warring powers, it is better for a state to join even the losing side than try to remain neutral. By trying to do so, Greece could not avoid, even with the utmost circumspection, exposing herself to insult and injury.