by M. I. Finley
59. Again Phylarchus says that Aristomachus the Argive, a man of a most distinguished family, who had been tyrant of Argos, as his fathers had been before him, upon falling into the hands of Antigonus and the League was hurried off to Cenchreae and there racked to death, in an unparalleled instance of injustice and cruelty. But in this matter also our author preserves his peculiar method. He makes up a story about certain cries of this man, when he was on the rack, being heard through the night by the neighbours, some of whom, he says, rushed to the house in their horror, or incredulity, or indignation at the outrage. As for the sensationalism, let it pass; I have said enough on that point. But I must express my opinion that, even if Aristomachus had committed no crime against the Achaeans besides, yet his whole life and his treason to his own country deserved the heaviest possible punishment. And in order, forsooth, to enhance this man’s reputation, and move his readers’ sympathies for his sufferings, our historian remarks that he had not only been a tyrant himself, but that his fathers had been so before him. It would not be easy to bring a graver or more bitter charge against a man than this, for the mere word “tyrant” involves the idea of everything that is wickedest, and includes every injustice and crime possible to mankind. And if Aristomachus endured the most terrible tortures, as Phylarchus says, he yet would not have been sufficiently punished for the crime of one day, in which, when Aratus had effected an entrance into Argos with the Achaean soldiers —and, after supporting the most severe struggles and dangers for the freedom of its citizens, had eventually been driven out, because the party within who were in league with him had not ventured to stir, for fear of the tyrant—Aristomachus availed himself of the pretext of their complicity with the irruption of the Achaeans to put to the rack and execute eighty of the leading citizens, who were perfectly innocent, in the presence of their relations. I pass by the history of his whole life and the crimes of his ancestors, for that would be too long a story.
60. But this shows that we ought not to be indignant if a man reaps as he has sown, but rather if he is allowed to end his days in peace, without experiencing such retribution at all. Nor ought we to accuse Antigonus or Aratus of crime if they racked and put to death a tyrant whom they had captured in war, to have killed and wreaked vengeance on whom, even in time of peace, would have brought praise and honour to the doers from all right-minded persons.
But when, in addition to these crimes, he was guilty also of treachery to the League, what shall we say that he deserved? In fact, he abdicated the tyranny of Argos shortly before [in 229-228 B.C.], finding himself in difficulties owing to the state of affairs brought on by the death of Demetrius. He was, however, protected by the clemency and generosity of the League, and, much to his own surprise, was left unmolested. For the Achaean government not only secured him an amnesty for all crimes committed by him while despot, but admitted him as a member of the League, and invested him with the highest office in it—that, namely, of hegemon and general. All these favours he immediately forgot as soon as his hopes were a little raised by the Cleomenic war; and at a crisis of the utmost importance he withdrew his native city, as well as his own personal adhesion, from the League, and attached them to its enemies. For such an act of treason what he deserved was not to be racked under cover of night at Cenchreae and then put to death, as Phylarchus says; he ought to have been taken from city to city in the Peloponnesus, and to have ended his life only after exemplary torture in each of them. And yet the only severity that this guilty wretch had to endure was to be drowned in the sea by order of the officers at Cenchreae.
61. There is another illustration of this writer’s manner to be found in his treatment of the cases of Mantinea and Megalopolis. The misfortunes of the former he has depicted with his usual exaggeration and picturesqueness, apparently from the notion that it is the peculiar function of the historian to select for special mention only such actions as are conspicuously bad. But about the noble conduct of the Megalopolitans at that same period he has not said a word, as though it were the province of history to deal with crimes rather than with instances of just and noble conduct, or as though his readers would be less improved by the record of what is great and worthy of imitation than by that of such deeds as are base and fit only to be avoided. For instance, he has told us clearly enough how Cleomenes took the town, preserved it from damage, and forthwith sent couriers to the Megalopolitans in Messene with a dispatch offering them the safe enjoyment of their country if they would throw in their lot with him; and his object in telling all this is to enhance the magnanimity and moderation of Cleomenes towards his enemies. Nay, he has gone further and told us how the people of Megalopolis would not allow the letter to be read to the end, and were not far from stoning the bearers of it. Thus much he does tell us. But the sequel to this, so appropriate to a historian—the commendation, I mean, and honourable mention of their noble conduct—this he has altogether left out.
And yet he had an opportunity ready to his hand. For if we view with approval the conduct of a people who merely by their declarations and votes support a war in behalf of friends and allies, while to those who go so far as to endure the devastation of their territory and a siege of their town we give not only praise but active gratitude, what must be our estimate of the people of Megalopolis? Must it not be of the most exalted character? First of all, they allowed their territory to be at the mercy of Cleomenes, and then consented to be entirely deprived of their city, rather than be false to the League; and, finally, in spite of an unexpected chance of recovering it, they deliberately preferred the loss of their territory, the tombs of their ancestors, their temples, their homes and property, of everything in fact which men value most, to forfeiting their faith to their allies. No nobler action has ever been or ever will be performed; none to which a historian could better draw his readers’ attention. For what could be a higher incentive to good faith, or the maintenance of frank and permanent relations between states? But of all this Phylarchus says not a word, being, as it seems to me, entirely blind to all that is noblest and best suited to be the theme of a historian.
62. He does, however, state in the course of his narrative that from the spoils of Megalopolis six thousand talents fell to the Lacedaemonians, of which two thousand, according to custom, were given to Cleomenes. This shows, to begin with, an astounding ignorance of the ordinary facts as to the resources of Greece—a knowledge which must necessarily be possessed by historians. I am not of course now speaking of the period in which the Peloponnesus had been ruined by the Macedonian kings, and still more completely by a long continuance of intestine struggles, but of our own times, in which it is believed, by the establishment of its unity, to be enjoying the highest prosperity. Still even at this period, if you could collect all the movable property of the whole Peloponnesus (leaving out the value of slaves), it would be impossible to get so large a sum together. That I speak on good grounds and not at random will appear from the following fact. Everyone has read that when the Athenians, in conjunction with the Thebans, entered upon the war with the Lacedaemonians [in 378 B.C.], and dispatched an army of ten thousand men and manned a hundred triremes, they resolved to supply the expenses of the war by the assessment of a property tax, and accordingly had a valuation taken, not only of the whole land of Attica and the houses in it, but of all other property; but yet the value returned fell short of six thousand talents by two hundred and fifty; which will show that what I have just said of the Peloponnesus is not far wide of the mark. But at this period the most exaggerated estimate could scarcely give more than three hundred talents as coming from Megalopolis itself, for it is acknowledged that most of the inhabitants, free and slaves, escaped to Messene. But the strongest confirmation of my words is the case of Mantinea, which, as he himself observes, was second to no Arcadian city in wealth and numbers. Though it was surrendered after a siege, so that no one could escape, and no property could without great difficulty be concealed, yet the value of the whole spoil of the town, including the cap
tives, amounted at this same period to only three hundred talents.
63. But a more astonishing misstatement remains to be remarked. In the course of his history of this war, Phylarchus asserts that about ten days before the battle an ambassador came from Ptolemy announcing to Cleomenes that the king declined to continue to support him with supplies, and advised him to make terms with Antigonus. And that when this message had been delivered to Cleomenes he made up his mind that he had better put his fortune to the supreme test as soon as possible, before his forces learned about this message, because he could not hope to provide the soldiers’ pay from his own resources. But if he had at that very time become the master of six thousand talents, he would have been better supplied than Ptolemy himself. And as for war with Antigonus, if he had become master of only three hundred talents, he would have been able to continue it without any difficulty. But the writer states two inconsistent propositions—that Cleomenes depended wholly on Ptolemy for money, and that he at the same time had become master of that enormous sum. Is this not irrational, and grossly careless besides? I might mention many instances of a similar kind, not only in his account of this period, but throughout his whole work; but I think for my present purpose enough has been said.
From BOOK VI
The Roman Constitution
2. I am aware that some will be at a loss to account for my interrupting the course of my narrative for the sake of entering upon the following disquisition on the Roman constitution. But I think that I have already in many passages made it fully evident that this particular branch of my work was one of the necessities imposed on me by the nature of my original design, and I pointed this out with special clearness in the preface which explained the scope of my history. I there stated that the feature of my work which was at once the best in itself and the most instructive to the students of it was that it would enable them to know and fully realize in what manner, and under what kind of constitution, it came about that nearly the whole world fell under the power of Rome in somewhat less than fifty-three years, an event certainly without precedent. This being my settled purpose, I could see no more fitting period than the present for making a pause and examining the truth of the remarks about to be made on this constitution. In private life if you wish to satisfy yourself as to the badness or goodness of particular persons, you would not, if you wish to get a genuine test, examine their conduct at a time of uneventful repose, but in the hour of brilliant success or conspicuous reverse. For the true test of a perfect man is the power of bearing with spirit and dignity violent changes of fortune. An examination of a constitution should be conducted in the same way: and therefore, being unable to find in our day a more rapid or signal change than that which has happened to Rome, I reserved my disquisition on its constitution for this place....
3. Of the Greek states, which have again and again risen to greatness and fallen into insignificance, it is not difficult to speak, whether we recount their past history or venture an opinion on their future. For to report what is already known is an easy task, nor is it hard to guess what is to come from our knowledge of what has been. But in regard to the Romans it is neither an easy matter to describe their present state, owing to the complexity of their constitution, nor to speak with confidence of their future, from our inadequate acquaintance with their peculiar institutions in the past, whether affecting their public or their private life. It will require, then, no ordinary attention and study to get a clear and comprehensive conception of the distinctive features of this constitution.
Now it is undoubtedly the case that most of those who profess to give us authoritative instruction on this subject distinguish three kinds of constitutions, which they designate kingship, aristocracy, democracy. But in my opinion the question might fairly be put to them whether they name these as being the only ones or as the best. In either case I think they are wrong. For it is plain that we must regard as the best constitution that which partakes of all these three elements. And this is no mere assertion, but has been proved by the example of Lycurgus, who was the first to construct a constitution—that of Sparta—on this principle. Nor can we admit that these are the only forms, for we have had before now examples of absolute and tyrannical forms of government, which, while differing as widely as possible from kingship, yet appear to have some points of resemblance to it, on which account all absolute rulers falsely assume and use, as far as they can, the title of king. Again there have been many instances of oligarchical governments having in appearance some analogy to aristocracies, which are, if I may say so, as different from them as it is possible to be. The same also holds good about democracy.
4. I will illustrate the truth of what I say. We cannot hold every absolute government to be a kingship, but only that which is accepted voluntarily, and is directed by an appeal to reason rather than to fear and force. Nor again is every oligarchy to be regarded as an aristocracy; the latter exists only where the power is wielded by the justest and wisest men selected on their merits. Similarly, it is not enough to constitute a democracy that the whole crowd of citizens should have the right to do whatever they wish or propose. But where reverence to the gods, honour for parents, respect to elders, obedience to laws are traditional and habitual, in such communities, if the will of the majority prevail, we may speak of the form of government as a democracy. So then we enumerate six forms of government—the three commonly spoken of which I have just mentioned, and three more allied forms: I mean despotism, oligarchy, and mob rule. The first of these arises without artificial aid and in the natural order of events. Next to this, and produced from it by the aid of art and adjustment, comes kingship; which degenerating into the evil form allied to it, by which I mean tyranny, both are destroyed and aristocracy produced. Again the latter being in the course of nature perverted to oligarchy, and the people passionately avenging the unjust acts of their rulers, democracy comes into existence, which in due course by its violence and contempt of law becomes mob rule to close the series. No clearer proof of the truth of what I say could be obtained than by a careful observation of the natural origin, genesis, and decadence of these several forms of government. For it is only by seeing distinctly how each of them is produced that a distinct view can also be obtained of its growth, zenith, and decadence, and the time, circumstance, and place in which each of these may be expected to recur. This method I have assumed to be especially applicable to the Roman constitution, because its origin and growth have from the first followed natural causes.
5. Now the natural laws which regulate the transformation of one form of government into another are perhaps discussed with greater accuracy by Plato and some other philosophers. But their treatment, from its intricacy and exhaustiveness, is within the capacity of only a few. I will therefore endeavour to give a summary of the subject, just so far as I suppose it to fall within the scope of a serious history and the intelligence of ordinary people. For if my exposition appear in any way inadequate, owing to the general terms in which it is expressed, the details contained in what is immediately to follow will simply atone for what is left for the present unsolved.
What is the origin then of a constitution, and whence is it produced? Suppose that from floods, pestilence, failure of crops, or some such causes the race of man is reduced almost to extinction. Such things, we are told, have happened and, it is reasonable to think, will happen again. Suppose accordingly all knowledge of social habits and arts to have been lost. Suppose that from the survivors, as from seeds, the race of man to have again multiplied. In that case I presume they would, like the animals, herd together; for it is but reasonable to suppose that bodily weakness would induce them to seek those of their own kind to herd with. And in that case, too, as with the animals, he who was superior to the rest in strength of body or courage of soul would lead and rule them. For what we see happen in the case of animals that are without the faculty of reason, such as bulls, goats, and cocks—among whom there can be no dispute that the strongest take the lead—that we mu
st regard as in the truest sense the teaching of nature. Originally then it is probable that the condition of life among men was this, herding together like animals and following the strongest and bravest as leaders. The standard of this authority would be physical strength, and the name we should give it would be despotism. But as soon as the idea of family ties and social relation has arisen amongst such agglomerations of men, then is born also the idea of kingship, and then for the first time mankind conceives the notion of goodness and justice and their reverse.