Under such conditions the People's Chosen formed his Ministry (26 June), and nerved himself to face the people. Every preparation for his entry into the capital had been made. Nothing remained but to fix the hour. But this he evaded doing in a manner which puzzled and exasperated the French General. It was the goal towards which they had moved steadily and methodically, step tracing step, through so many weary months—the crown of their joint adventure. Why, then, did he not seize it? Why did he shrink from possession? What did he mean by it? The General did not know. But he felt that it would not do. "M. le President," he said to him, incisively, "Here you are in power; it is up to you to assume the responsibility. I have the force in my hands, and it is my business to secure your installation in Athens. But I must have your instructions. Tell me what measures you want me to take." The request was a command. M. Venizelos thanked the General effusively, pressing his hands. "After all," he said, "it is certain that people will always say that I did not return to Athens but with the support of the Allies." Finally it was arranged that he should land in the forenoon of 27 June. An ordeal which could not be avoided ought not to be postponed.
At the appointed hour the French troops entered Athens with their machine-guns and occupied the principal points along the route by which M. Venizelos was to proceed, while the vicinity of the Royal Palace where he was to take the oath of office and the interior of it were watched by 400 Cretan gendarmes, his faithful bodyguard, come from Salonica. Notwithstanding all these precautions, M. Venizelos and his Ministers, modestly averse from exposing themselves to the enthusiasm of their fellow-citizens, motored at top speed straight to the Palace, eschewing the central thoroughfares, and thence to the Hotel Grande Bretagne, in the corridors of which also Cretan stalwarts mounted guard. Thanks to this vigilance, as General Regnault observes, the assassins whom the Premier and his friends feared to see rise from every street corner, and even in the passages of the Palace and hotel, had not materialized. But M. Venizelos, where his own life was concerned, took no chances: a Cretan regiment {205} from Salonica landed that afternoon to replace the foreign battalions.[14]
Towards evening a demonstration organized in the square before the hotel gave M. Venizelos an opportunity of appearing on the balcony and making an eloquent speech. He reminded his hearers how the last warning he had addressed to King Constantine from the balcony of his house ten months ago had been disregarded, and how, in consequence, the part of the nation still healthy had risen to save the rest. The cure thus begun would go on until it had wrought out its accomplishment. In due time a Constituent Assembly would be elected to revise the Constitution so as to place beyond peradventure the sovereignty of the people. Meanwhile, the national system had been singularly enfeebled and corrupted by the late autocratic regime: the public services did not do their work as they ought; impurities had crept into the blood; the body politic needed purging. He would put all this right. He would restore the system to vigorous activity. Every impurity would be cleansed from it, and pure, refreshed blood would circulate all over the body politic, giving health to every fibre of the State. As to matters external, he thought it needless to say that the place of Greece was by the side of the Powers who fought for democracy.[15]
The next two days saw this programme at work.
A rupture of relations with the Central Empires, to be followed by a mobilization, marked the end of Greek neutrality. King Alexander, as yet a novice in statecraft, expressed surprise at the inconsistency between these acts and the repeated assurances given to the Greek people. He was told that the accession of M. Venizelos could mean nothing else but war: his Majesty knew it: having accepted Venizelos, he must accept his foreign policy.[16]
Not less was the young king's shock at another act of the new Government—the suspension, by a Royal Decree, of the irremovability of judges which is expressly guaranteed by the Constitution. "They accused my father of {206} violating the Constitution," he said to M. Jonnart, "and the first thing they ask me to do is to violate it." So acute an interpreter of Constitutional Law could have small difficulty in disposing of these scruples. He explained to the young monarch that he could sign the decree without any compunction: the Constituent Assembly which would be elected by and by to revise the Constitution would legitimatize everything. He went on to give him a little, simple lecture on the elements of Constitutional Verity, its theory and its practice: "In a short time," he concluded suavely, "Your Majesty will know on this subject as much as any of your Ministers,"—whenever he experienced the need of further instruction, he only had to call the High Commissioner, who promised to come and solve his perplexities in a trice.[17]
The soundness of the instruction might be questionable. But the source from which it came gave it unquestionable weight.
By the time M. Jonnart left Athens (7 July), he had every reason to feel gratified at the complete success of his efforts. France's protégé was installed at the head of the Hellenic Nation, ready to lead it forth by her side; the regular working of Constitutional institutions was assured; and the foundations of a democratic government were well and truly laid. In all history it would be difficult to find a more signal instance of brute force and bad faith triumphing in the name of Law and Verity.
[1] Reuter, Athens, 16 June, 1917; Jonnart, pp. 137-40.
[2] Jonnart, pp. 147-51, 179-80.