Baulked in his design on continental Greece, M. Venizelos demanded from Admiral Dartige the light flotilla in order to promote his cause in the islands. But here, also, he met with a check. The Admiral had a different use for those vessels in view. Many months back he felt the want of patrol and torpedo-boats to cope with the growing submarine peril, and had suggested asking Greece for the cession of her light flotilla. The matter was postponed in the expectation that the vessels would go over to the Allies spontaneously as a result of the Venizelist movement, and on this expectation being disappointed they were, as we have seen, sequestered under the pretence of security for the Allied armada. Another excuse was needed for their appropriation; and it came in the nick of time: two Greek steamers at that moment struck mines, presumably sown by an enemy submarine, in the Gulf of Athens. With the promptitude that comes of practice, Admiral Dartige announced to the Hellenic Government his decision to employ, at a valuation, its light flotilla in the submarine {149} warfare, and to use the Salamis arsenal for repairs (3 November.)[23]
M. Lambros replied that compliance with the Admiral's request involved a breach of International Law, which forbade the sale of naval units by a neutral State to a belligerent, as well as a breach of a Greek law which forbade the alienation of ships possessing military value. Besides, public opinion would never endure to see the country stripped of its naval means of defence and exposed to possible aggression. He was, therefore, regretfully obliged to refuse the Hellenic Government's consent.[24]
The Admiral could not let a refusal stand in his way: "It would be unpardonable," he wrote in answer, "to leave these vessels unutilized whilst German submarines, heedless of the neutrality of Greece, came and sank her merchant ships in her waters, thus stopping maritime traffic and seriously prejudicing the life of the country." [25]
Having got over these little formalities, he hoisted the French flag on the vessels and seized the arsenal (7 November). The Hellenic Government's protest against this fresh outrage,[26] naturally, had no effect. Only the British Minister made it clear that the act was exclusively the work of France.[27]
Nothing done by one group of belligerents, needless to say, escaped the attention of the other; and the representatives of the enemy Powers, besides fulminating against a step which, "in flagrant contravention of the principles of neutrality came to augment the armed forces of their adversaries," improved the occasion by reciting all the proofs of "a benevolent neutrality without parallel," which Greece had been giving those adversaries since the beginning of the War: the free passage of munitions and provisions for Servia; the facilities accorded to Entente shipping; the toleration of recruiting bureaux and wireless stations in Greek territory; the use of isles and ports as naval bases. Then the landing of the Allies in Macedonia {150} had inaugurated a period of continuous violations of neutrality and the establishment of a regime of terror towards them: their Consuls were arrested, members of their Legations were assaulted, great numbers of their nationals were led into captivity or driven into exile, their merchant ships were seized, and the Ministers themselves were deprived of all means of communicating with their Governments. Last of all came the installation of Allied troops in Athens itself and the sequestration of the Greek navy, now transformed into a definite cession; and, according to trustworthy intelligence, the Entente Powers meant to exact shortly the disarmament of the Greek army also. They ended with a hint that the indulgence of their Governments might reach its limit.[28]
A more painful position for a free people and its rulers could not be imagined. But King Constantine comforted himself with the thought that the "pledges of friendship" exacted from him by the Allies would be followed by corresponding pledges from them. His negotiation with M. Benazet had received its finishing touches in the evening of 7 November: the Entente Powers would present to the Greek Government a Note setting forth their demands in the form of a "Summons," the terms of which were, word for word, agreed upon between the two parties. By this document the Allies bound themselves "to repeal the coercive measures taken up to now and never to tolerate that armed Greek bodies which had declared to have as their sole aim a struggle for the vindication of national ideas should turn aside from that aim in order to engage in acts of sedition." [29]
This clause formed the corner-stone of the whole pact. "It is clear," telegraphs M. Benazet to Paris, "that some sort of compensation is admitted in principle,"—for very good reasons: "The King's sole fear—and a very intelligible one—is lest his own arms should be handed over to Greeks who would use them to march on Athens and overthrow his dynasty." Moreover, without such guarantees it will be impossible for the King and his Premier "to make disarmament acceptable by the Royalist Party, {151} which constitutes the great majority of the nation." He added that neither the King nor his Premier was unaware of the hostility with which these efforts for conciliation were viewed by certain personalities: but both were resolved to show the greatest patience until the agreement had produced all its effects. The negotiator himself, equally aware of the hostile forces at work, left Athens with a heart full of misgivings.[30]
[1] Du Fournet, pp. 132, 171.
[2] The New Europe, 29 March, 1917; The Times, 17 Oct., 1916.
[3] The Times, dispatch from Athens, 8 Oct., 1916.