exemplary composure, but even manifested a culpable
indifference while the worst outrages were committed.
There was cordial rejoicing in Achaia when, after
that restoration, the news arrived from Rome that
the senate had found fault with it, but had not annulled
it. Nothing was done for the Lacedaemonians
by Rome, except that the senate, shocked at the judicial
murder of from sixty to eighty Spartans committed by
the Achaeans, deprived the diet of criminal jurisdiction
over the Spartans—truly a heinous interference
with the internal affairs of an independent state!
The Roman statesmen gave themselves as little concern
as possible about this tempest in a nut-shell, as is
best shown by the many complaints regarding the superficial,
contradictory, and obscure decisions of the senate;
in fact, how could its decisions be expected to be
clear, when there were four parties from Sparta simultaneously
speaking against each other at its bar? Add to
this the personal impression, which most of these
Peloponnesian statesmen produced in Rome; even Flamininus
shook his head, when one of them showed him on the
one day how to perform some dance, and on the next
entertained him with affairs of state. Matters
went so far, that the senate at last lost patience
and informed the Peloponnesians that it would no longer
listen to them, and that they might do what they chose
(572). This was natural enough, but it was not
right; situated as the Romans were, they were under
a moral and political obligation earnestly and steadfastly
to rectify this melancholy state of things. Callicrates
the Achaean, who went to the senate in 575 to enlighten
it as to the state of matters in the Peloponnesus and
to demand a consistent and calm intervention, may
have had somewhat less worth as a man than his countryman
Philopoemen who was the main founder of that patriotic
policy; but he was in the right.
Death of Hannibal
Thus the protectorate of the Roman community now embraced
all the states from the eastern to the western end
of the Mediterranean. There nowhere existed a
state that the Romans would have deemed it worth while
to fear. But there still lived a man to whom
Rome accorded this rare honour—the homeless
Carthaginian, who had raised in arms against Rome
first all the west and then all the east, and whose
schemes perhaps had been only frustrated by infamous
aristocratic policy in the former case, and by stupid
court policy in the latter. Antiochus had been
obliged to bind himself in the treaty of peace to
deliver up Hannibal; but the latter had escaped, first
to Crete, then to Bithynia,(8) and now lived at the
court of Prusias king of Bithynia, employed in aiding
the latter in his wars with Eumenes, and victorious
as ever by sea and by land. It is affirmed that
he was desirous of stirring up Prusias also to make
war on Rome; a folly, which, as it is told, sounds
very far from credible. It is more certain that,
while the Roman senate deemed it beneath its dignity