ad; they talked of the
rights of war, and of the faithful aid of the Achaeans in the wars of
the Romans; they asked the Roman envoys at the Achaean diet why Rome
should concern herself about Messene when Achaia put no questions as
to Capua; and the spirited patriot, who had thus spoken, was applauded
and was sure of votes at the elections. All this would have been very
right and very dignified, had it not been much more ridiculous. There
was a profound justice and a still more profound melancholy in the
fact, that Rome, however earnestly she endeavoured to establish the
freedom and to earn the thanks of the Hellenes, yet gave them nothing
but anarchy and reaped nothing but ingratitude. Undoubtedly very
generous sentiments lay at the bottom of the Hellenic antipathies to
the protecting power, and the personal bravery of some of the men who
took the lead in the movement was unquestionable; but this Achaean
patriotism remained not the less a folly and a genuine historical
caricature. With all that ambition and all that national
susceptibility the whole nation was, from the highest to the lowest,
pervaded by the most thorough sense of impotence. Every one was
constantly listening to learn the sentiments of Rome, the liberal
man no less than the servile; they thanked heaven, when the dreaded
decree was not issued; they were sulky, when the senate gave them to
understand that they would do well to yield voluntarily in order that
they might not need to be compelled; they did what they were obliged
to do, if possible, in a way offensive to the Romans, "to save forms";
they reported, explained, postponed, evaded, and, when all this would
no longer avail, yielded with a patriotic sigh. Their proceedings
might have claimed indulgence at any rate, if not approval, had their
leaders been resolved to fight, and had they preferred the destruction
of the nation to its bondage; but neither Philopoemen nor Lycortas
thought of any such political suicide--they wished, if possible,
to be free, but they wished above all to live. Besides all this, the
dreaded intervention of Rome in the internal affairs of Greece was not
the arbitrary act of the Romans, but was always invoked by the Greeks
themselves, who, like boys, brought down on their own heads the rod
which they feared. The reproach repeated -ad nauseam- by the erudite
rabble in Hellenic and post-Hellenic times--that the Romans had been
at pains to stir up internal discord in Gree