The conduct of the Greek Government in Mr. Finlay’s case was very different from that of Frederick the Great in a similar case towards one of his subjects, a man of humble rank. This man refused to sell his sovereign a little bit of ground on which a windmill stood, the ground being necessary for the completion of a magnificent plan of residence for the monarch. The conduct of the King of Prussia was very different from that of the King of Greece. The King of Prussia, though a conqueror in the field and the absolute monarch of a great country, respected the rights of a subject however humble; and not only left the monument of the independence of his subject, standing in the midst of his ornamented grounds, but used to point to it with pride, feeling that it was proof that though he was great and powerful, he knew how to respect the rights of the meanest. For fourteen long years Mr. Finlay was driven from pillar to post, put off with every sort of shuffling and evasive excuse, and deprived of compensation for his land, unless he would take what was wholly inadequate.
In 1843 came a revolution. Till 1843 the Greek Government had continued arbitrary; the King declining, under the circumstances I have mentioned, to grant a constitution. In 1843 the patience of the Greeks was exhausted. They rose in Athens, and extorted by force that which had been refused to reason. When the constitution was granted, courts of justice were established, which were not indeed independent, because the judges were liable, not only to be removed from one court to another, but to be entirely dismissed at the will of the sovereign; still in 1843 there were courts to which Mr. Finlay might, as it has been stated, have applied. But they were of no competence with respect to events which had happened before their creation. Mr. Finlay, therefore, had no remedy. But I have heard it most triumphantly, distinctly, positively asserted, that this case exhibits the bad faith of the English Government; for that at the time when Mr. Wyse made his demands on the Greek Government, we and he knew the case of Mr. Finlay was absolutely, finally, and conclusively settled. No such thing. That is an assertion absolutely, finally, and conclusively at variance with the truth.
There had been an agreement made for arbitration in this case; and a most curious sample it affords of the manner in which things are carried on in Greece. Mr. Finlay said, “I will submit my claim to arbitration.” “By all means,” was the reply of the Greek Government; “you shall have one arbiter and we another.” But Mr. Finlay has been described as a “cannie Scot,” and looking far into the future, he foresaw a possibility, which might have struck a man even not so far north, that the two arbiters might differ; and he suggested that an umpire be appointed. The Greek Government said, “You are quite right.” But Mr. Finlay, being a sensible man, did not like to submit his case to a tribunal where there would be two to one against him, and so he declined the arbitration. The Greek Government then gave up this unreasonable proposal, which they had made just as if it had been quite a matter of course, and a commission of arbitration was agreed upon, consisting of two respectable people, and an umpire properly appointed. If that arbitration had gone on, and the money awarded by it had been paid, Mr. Finlay’s case would have been absolutely, finally, and conclusively settled. But by the law of Greece, arbiters so appointed must pronounce an award within three months, or, if they don’t, then the arbitration falls and drops to the ground. The commissioners could not make their award without certain documents, which could only be furnished by an officer of the Greek Government. This officer, by some unfortunate accident, did not furnish them, and the arbitration fell to the ground by efflux of time.
Therefore, when Baron Gros came to inquire into the matter, he found this case just as it had been when Mr. Finlay first made his complaint. Baron Gros said to Mr. Finlay, “Why, your claim is settled.” “Settled? No,” said Mr. Finlay. “Why, have you not received your money?” “Not a farthing; and I don’t know what amount I am to receive.” In short, his case was exactly in the same state in which it was before the arbitration had been agreed to.
That was a case in which we made no specific demand. The only specific demand was, that Mr. Finlay should receive whatever the value of his land should be found to be. We fixed no sum: we were unable to fix any; and the sum he received afterward was the amount which the two arbiters, one named by Mr. Finlay, the other by the Greek Government, were prepared to award, splitting the difference between their respective estimates. I don’t think that in that case, the claim was either doubtful in justice, or exaggerated in amount.
Then we came to the claim of M. Pacifico—a claim which has been the subject of much unworthy comment. Stories have been told, involving imputations on the character of M. Pacifico; I know nothing of the truth or falsehood of these stories. All I know is that M. Pacifico, after the time to which those stories relate, was appointed Portuguese Consul, first to Morocco and afterward to Athens. It is not likely that the Portuguese Government would select for appointments of that kind, a person whose character they did not believe to be above reproach. But I say, with those who have before had occasion to advert to the subject, that I don’t care what M. Pacifico’s character is. I do not, and cannot admit, that because a man may have acted amiss on some other occasion, and in some other matter, he is to be wronged with impunity by others.
The rights of a man depend on the merits of the particular case; and it is an abuse of argument to say that you are not to give redress to a man, because in some former transaction he may have done something which is questionable. Punish him if you will—punish him if he is guilty, but don’t pursue him as a Pariah through life.
What happened in this case? In the middle of the town of Athens, in a house which I must be allowed to say is not a wretched hovel, as some people have described it;—but it does not matter what it is, for whether a man’s home be a palace, or a cabin, the owner has a right to be there safe from injury—well, in a house which is not a wretched hovel, but which in the early days of King Otho was, I am told, the residence of the Count Armansperg, the Chief of the Regency—a house as good as the generality of those which existed in Athens before the sovereign ascended the throne—M. Pacifico, living in this house within forty yards of the great street, within a few minutes’ walk of a guardhouse where soldiers were stationed, was attacked by a mob. Fearing injury, when the mob began to assemble, he sent an intimation to the British Minister, who immediately informed the authorities. Application was made to the Greek Government for protection. No protection was afforded. The mob, in which were soldiers and gens d’armes, who, even if officers were not with them, ought, from a sense of duty, to have interfered and to have prevented plunder—the mob headed by the sons of the Minister of War, not children eight or ten years old, but older—that mob, for nearly two hours, employed themselves in gutting the house of an unoffending man, carrying away or destroying every single thing the house contained, and left it a perfect wreck.
Is not that a case in which a man is entitled to redress from somebody? I venture to think it is. I think that there is not a civilised country where a man subject to such grievous wrong, not to speak of the insults and injuries to the members of his family, would not justly expect redress from some quarter or other. Where was he to apply for redress at Athens? The Greek Government neglected its duty, and did not pursue judicial inquiries, or institute legal prosecutions as it might have done for the purpose of finding out and punishing some of the culprits. The sons of the Minister of War were pointed out to the Government as actors in the outrage. The Greek Government were told to “search a particular house; and that some part of M. Pacifico’s jewels would be found there.” They declined to prosecute the Minister’s sons, or to search the house. But, it is said, M. Pacifico should have applied to a court of law for redress. What was he to do? Was he to prosecute a mob of five hundred persons? Was he to prosecute them criminally, or in order to make them pay the value of his loss? Where was he to find his witnesses? Why, he and his family were hiding or flying, during the pillage, to avoid the personal outrages with which they were threatened. He states that his own life was saved by the help of an English friend. It was impossible, if he could have identified the leaders, to have prosecuted them with success.
But what satisfaction would it have been to M. Pacifico, to have succeeded in a criminal prosecution against the ringleaders of the assault? Would that have restored to him his property? He wanted redress, not revenge. A criminal prosecution was out of the question, to say nothing of the chances, if not the certainty, of failure, in a country where the tribunals are at the mercy of the advisers of the Crown, the judges being liable to be removed, and being often actually removed upon grounds of private and personal feeling. Was he to prosecute for damages? His action would have lain against individuals, and not, as in this country, against the hundred.[12] Suppose he had been able to prove that one particular man carried off one particular thing, or destroyed one particular article of furniture; what redress could he anticipate by a lawsuit, which, as his legal advisers told him, it would be vain for him to undertake? M. Pacifico truly said, “If the man I prosecute is rich, he is sure to be acquitted; if he is poor, he has nothing out of which to afford compensation if he is condemned.”