Yet the day was coming when Rome was to rule in the East as well as in the West; she was step by step to draw all the Greek powers, those that were Greek by adoption as well as those that we may call Greek by birth, within the spell of that influence which silently changed from alliance to subjection. The details of that process, the picture of the world into which Rome burst as it were in a moment, the history in short of the third and second centuries, have, in the common course of so-called classical studies, met with a neglect which can be measured only by their paramount importance in universal history. The distinctive aspect of that age I shall have to speak of again. I wish now to point out how rich in political instruction of every kind, rich perhaps beyond every other age of so-called classical times, the age of Polybios really is. The Greek world of his day was made up of an assemblage of states, of every degree of power and of every form of political constitution. There was nothing like it in the earlier days of Greece; there was nothing like it in the after days when Rome practically became the world. But the Greek world of those days gives us a lively image of the political state of modern Europe for some ages past. The political experience of Polybios was immeasureably wider than that of Thucydides; he had in truth an experience fully as wide and varied as that of any modern statesman. Thucydides knew only the independent city, oligarchic or democratic, and the city which would fain be independent but was not. In his day kingship and federation – federation worthy to be so called – were still in the background; they hardly stood forth on the political stage; kingship was not the constitution of any acknowledged Greek power; federation was not the constitution of any Greek power of the first or even of the second rank. But Polybios could study, within the range of Greek or Greek-speaking powers, every form of kingship and every form of commonwealth. There was the national kingship of Macedonia, the king ruling over his own people. There was the local kingship of Egypt, the rule of Greek kings over a foreign nation. There was the Seleukid dominion, fallen indeed from its old greatness, but whose kings still kept up some memory of the position alike of Cyrus and of Alexander, the position of the Great King, the King of Kings, ruling over lands and cities, Greek and barbarian, of every speech, of every form of life, of every kind of relation to the central power. And the Greek city-commonwealth, fully free and independent, was still a familiar form of political life; nor need it shock us that the purest and noblest example of a Greek democracy was now to be found, not at Athens but at Rhodes. But the highest political life of Greece, above all of old European Greece, was now to be found in the federal states, in Polybios’ own Achaia, in gallant and faithful Akarnania, in the adopted Greek land of Epeiros, nay too in after days beyond the sea, among worthy imitators of Hellenic models, in that land of Lykia whose people, in the latest day as in the earliest, stand forth as the worthiest folk of Asia, alongside of the men of Achaia, worthiest folk of Europe. Achaia, Rhodes, Pergamon; it was no mean lesson to be able to study the federal commonwealth, the single city commonwealth, the kingship of a house worthy to reign, each standing forth in a model example of those three several forms of government. In such a system of states as this, instead of the simpler relations of earlier days, we come across all the complications of modern international politics. While the old republican life goes on, we see beside it the working of dynastic interests, the influence of queens and ministers, exactly as in the modern world. Diplomacy has its work to do, and a busy and constant work it is. Nor is the history of these times simply the history of petty states. Not only Macedonia and Egypt, but Pergamon, Achaia, Rhodes, were all great powers according to the standard of any earlier age. They were the leading states of their own world, the chief members of an established system in which each held its place exactly like the states of the modern world. Suddenly a foreign power broke in among them, a power far stronger than any of them, a power which came from another world beyond their range, and which in a moment changed the face of the world into which it entered. The suddenness of this irruption of Rome into the Greek world, the speed with which she sprang at once to the first place in the East as well as in the West, are among the most striking parts of the story. They stand out in marked contrast alike to the slow steps by which Rome had marched to the headship of the West and to the slow steps by which her leadership in the East was changed into direct and universal rule. Next to the delusion that the Empire of Rome came to an end in 476 A.D. stands the delusion that free Greek states came to an end in 146 B.C. This last delusion may be easier to get rid of than the other. The third and second centuries B.C. have at least the advantage of being left pretty clear from the touch of the crammer. It is easier to write on white paper than to make parchment ready for a palimpsest. It may be easier to set forth the true aspect of the age which ruled that Rome should be the head of the world than it is to set forth the true aspect of the age which answers to it, the age which ruled in what shape Rome should still remain the head of the world, though her political dominion over half her provinces was broken in pieces.
LECTURE II.
ROME THE HEAD OF EUROPE
In my last lecture I strove to draw a picture of the Mediterranean lands at the moment when the Greek world, as the Greek world had been shaped by Macedonian conquest, a world of kingdoms, federations, and single cities, a busy and intricate system full of the deepest political lessons at every step, was suddenly startled by the invasion of a power from the West. That power had already slowly risen to the first place in its own Western world; it now sprang as in a moment to the first place in the East; but, having thus sprung to the first place, it was content to fall back on its former slow and piecemeal course. Generations had to pass away before the paramount influence in the Greek world which Rome won at a single grasp was fully changed into immediate dominion over every land and city to which its influence had spread. Very early in the second century B.C. Rome was already the paramount power in the Greek world. She had not a single province east of Hadria; but cities, confederations, kingdoms, all knew that she was practically their mistress. Late in the first century A.D. Rome had many provinces east of Hadria; her immediate dominion had become the rule, and even nominal independence was the exception; but there were still free Greek cities which Vespasian deemed it prudent to bring under his immediate dominion, and there were not a few other free Greek cities which Vespasian left to give Trajan an opportunity of respecting the faith of treaties. The first step in short was sudden and swift; every later step was slow; but the first step carried every later step with it as its necessary consequence. In the interval between the First and Second Punic Wars, Rome appeared east of the Hadriatic as the deliverer of Greek cities from the pirates of Illyricum. That was in truth the first step in that eastward march by which, five hundred and fifty years later, Rome herself, in her own person, followed in the wake of her dominion, and transferred her seat from the seven hills by the Tiber to the seven hills by the Bosporos. Or shall we say that the first step was taken at a far earlier time? The position of Rome as an Italian state, ruling over Greek allies and subjects, but in return deeply affected by Greek influences of every kind, had begun while Rome still dwelled in her own peninsula. Before she crossed the Hadriatic, she had begun to put on the character of that compound power, politically Roman, intellectually Greek, whose calling it was to leaven the world. The extension which was marked, in the later half of the third century, by the Roman alliance with Apollônia, Epidamnos, and Korkyra, was an extension only geographical. The ally or mistress, whichever name we choose, of Naples, Tarentum, and Syracuse, the undoubted mistress of the greater half of Sicily, had already begun to put on the character of a Greek power before she drew sword for or against any city of the elder Greece. Rome had entered the ranks of the Hellênismos before Corinth admitted her citizens to strive in the games of the Isthmos, before Athens honoured them with initiation into the holiest rites of Dêmêtêr and her Child.
In a lecture of my former course I pointed out some of the physical conditions which made it possible for Rome to rise to the headship of the world.