Why the Senate wanted war must be considered later, for it is a matter of conjecture rather than of proved fact. How the Senate precipitated war is the present question, for it had apparently to drive two unwilling parties into conflict: the Roman people and Philip. Towards Rome Philip’s conduct had been legally correct and offered no formal ground for reproach; and the Roman people unanimously rejected the consuls’ proposal, made in March 200, that war should be proclaimed.5 It was then decided to present Philip with an ultimatum, so strongly worded that he would be unlikely to accept its terms; these were that he should make reparation to Attalus (as if he, Philip, were the aggressor) and should not make war on any Greek state (as if Rome was allied to any Greeks and could demand their protection). Three ambassadors were sent, probably in the spring of 200, to carry this ultimatum through Greece to Philip who had returned to Macedonia; at the same time they were to stir up pro-Roman feeling in Greece itself, to confer with Attalus and Rhodes, and to visit Syria and Egypt with the object of mediating between the two countries and sounding Antiochus’ real intentions.6
In Greece the ambassadors were received none too cordially until they reached Athens, where events played into their hands. By a selfish neutrality the Athenians had kept out of the national movements of Greece but had recently been forced to face the question of friendship or enmity towards Philip. They had put to death two Acarnanian citizens who had forced their way into the Eleusinian Mysteries (autumn 201), and in the following spring the Acarnanians responded by devastating Attica with help from their ally Philip. Athens did not reply by an immediate declaration of war on Philip, but received help from Rhodes and Attalus when a Macedonian squadron seized four of her warships. Thus when the Roman ambassadors reached the Piraeus they met Attalus who, with the help of Rome’s promise to assist, persuaded Athens to declare war on Philip (about May 200); however much Rome may have contributed to this decision the responsibility must ultimately rest on Athens herself. When Nicanor, a Macedonian commander, attacked the suburbs of Athens, the Romans intervened and gave him Rome’s ultimatum to take to Philip. Then, as their anti-Macedonian appeals found little favour with the Aetolians and Achaeans, the Roman embassy went to Rhodes.
When the Athenians sent a certain Cephisodorus to Egypt, Rhodes, Pergamum, Crete and Aetolia, he obtained little direct help and proceeded to Rome which he reached in July, about the time when the Senate again appealed to the Roman people to declare war on Philip, this time with success.7 Meanwhile Philip sent a general to ravage Attica, and he himself after campaigning in Thrace besieged Abydos. Here he received a formal indictio belli from Aemilius Lepidus, one of the Roman ambassadors from Rhodes. In order to leave Philip no loophole, further demands were added to the previous ultimatum, namely, that he should make reparation to Rhodes as well as Attalus, and should respect all Egyptian dependencies. Philip accepted the challenge, stormed Abydos and returned home where he learnt that Sulpicius had landed near Apollonia with two legions. The Roman ambassadors meanwhile proceeded to Antiochus in the hope of securing his neutrality, and were met with cordiality and evasion. On their way back to Rome they called at Alexandria to report their failure to mediate with Antiochus.
3. THE CAUSES OF THE WAR
Events show that the Senate decided to fight Philip, but no authoritative statement supplies the reason. Thus the ground has been left free for modern historians to suggest the motives of Roman policy, which has been expounded as varying between the extremes of pure altruism and unscrupulous Machiavellianism. Two fundamental points are clear. First, the people did not want war. Their objection was natural enough: their numbers were depleted, agriculture was almost ruined, taxes were high, and they needed rest after the Hannibalic War. Secondly, there was little, if any, legal sanction for the war. The ius fetiale only allowed wars in defence of the state or of her oathbound allies (socii), while now the appellant peoples – Rhodes, Pergamum, Aetolia, and perhaps Egypt and Athens – were probably only amici, and some not even that, on whose behalf Rome was not bound to intervene. Rome had bound herself to her Italian socii by permanent foedera by which the ally supplied an annual military contingent and was not allowed to maintain neutrality. But in Greece and the east she found a different type of alliance: temporary alliance for a definite purpose and friendship in peacetime with the right to maintain neutrality. So Rome had adapted herself to her environment and had entered into relations of friendship (φιλία amicitia) with various states (e.g. with Egypt in 273 BC). Neither party was to fight the other; neutrality, if desired, must be respected; mutual help was not obligatory; such help, if supplied, would not be subordinate to Roman commanders, as were the contingents from socii; amici were formally enrolled but not by treaty. Now that Rome had adapted herself to Greek customs in dealing with Greek states, the question was raised: What was the position of amici in fetial law? When this was referred to the fetial priests it was decided to disregard the distinction between amici and socii, and for the occasion to extend the provisions of the ius fetiale over the amici. A phrase which had no legal standing was coined – socius et amicus – and the law was stretched a point to meet a present need.8 But though perhaps by the Senate’s wish the legal and religious difficulties were met, Rome did not in fact need to intervene on behalf of her ‘friends’ unless she so willed. Why then did she intervene?
The first and most obvious explanation is that Rome started a policy of systematic conquest: aggressive imperialism and militarism were the keynotes of the day. This theory, particularly in so far as it envisages desire for territory as Rome’s object, must be rejected. After the Hannibalic War Rome annexed no Carthaginian territory in Africa; after this war with Philip she took no land and did not even claim Illyricum. If land was needed, the West offered better and richer ground for expansion. Spain, the Eldorado of the ancient world, had been left on her hands, while the colonization of the Po valley was uncompleted. But in fact the devastated land of Italy itself needed all her attention. There is little evidence to show that the spirit of military imperialism affected Rome’s policy during the first decade of the second century – whatever its influence later. It was too soon after a life-and-death struggle, of which the issue had been uncertain almost to the end, for such a sense of power and superiority to arise which would drive on a people when they most needed rest. The day when Rome could justly be called ‘that old unquestioned pirate of the land’ was not yet. With militarism, commerce may also be rejected as an important cause of the war: the bulk of Roman trade was too small to influence her policy. Trade may have followed the flag, but it hardly pointed the way for it.9
To turn to the other extreme, the motive may have been an altruistic love of the Greeks, which led Rome to adopt what Tenney Frank has called ‘sentimental polities’. The glory of the Greek world which was capturing the imagination of men, as it did again at the Renaissance, may have inspired the Romans to strike a blow in defence of the liberty of Greek states and thus gain for the ‘barbarians’ of the west the respect of the civilized world. A more cynical view, which rejects ‘an over-romantic ardent sympathy for the Greeks’, suggests that such a motive was used by Rome as a mere pretext. ‘The Roman nobility had steeped itself in Hellenic culture, but had no tenderness for Greeks, as the late war had shown plainly enough. … Their philhellenism confined itself to the things of the spirit … they were going to use a philhellenic policy against Philip … because it suited their purpose, not through love of Greece.’10
But between the extremes of militarism and philhellenism a middle course can be traced. Rome may have adopted a policy of defensive, rather than offensive imperialism. With the balance of powers upset in the east and with Philip launched on a career of conquest and trampling on his neighbours’ rights, what guarantee had Rome that he would not turn against Italy when he was sufficiently strong, even if an immediate attack was improbable? May not Rome, through fear of ultimately being forced to fight in self-defence, have tried to forestall Philip? Livy at any r
ate describes how the consuls tried to stir the people to war by painting in lurid colours the dangers to be expected from Philip’s aggression. The objection to this theory is that the Senate can hardly have had much real anxiety about Philip; it may explain how the Senate drove the people to war, but it hardly explains the Senate’s own policy. To counter this difficulty it has been proposed to substitute Antiochus for Philip in the role of chief villain: it was fear of Antiochus that was the deciding factor with the Senate, who were suddenly converted to a warlike policy by the appeal of Rhodes and Attalus.11 What these ambassadors brought home to the Senate was the danger of Antiochus’ attitude: they were too skilful to emphasize their own grievances against Philip, which would hardly move the Senate, but having got wind of the coalition between Philip and Antiochus they used this information to scare Rome. Antiochus, the conqueror of the east, who had just returned from following the victorious route of Alexander to India, loomed large amid the mist of fears and rumours. What if he combined with Philip and concentrated in Greece as a base of operations against Italy? Now was the moment to intervene in Greece; not to subjugate it, which would have allowed the monarchs to pose as liberators, but to free it and then throw over it the aegis of permanent protection. If the Senate in appealing to the people harped on danger from Philip it was perhaps less because they themselves feared much from that quarter, than because they wished to use Philip’s name as a handle where the more illusive and shadowy Antiochus would fail to touch a practical people. To this appeal to self-protection and self-interest the Senate may have added the claims of Attalus and Greek civilization and even perhaps of Athens. The idea of defensive imperialism, of establishing a protectorate over Greece for the mutual benefit of Rome and Greece (for it is unnecessary to deny any genuine feeling of interest in the welfare of Greece) was probably the determining cause of the Second Macedonian War.12
But it is perhaps a mistake to seek too cut and dried an explanation of the policy of a people who, like the British, proverbially had a genius for muddling through. Rome had sought to avoid interfering with the balance of powers: a policy which though selfish was reasonable and pacific. But circumstances were too strong. The desire to safeguard her future, possibly to punish Philip for his past conduct, possibly also to pose as the patron of the Greeks whose past glories she so admired, all swept her into the vortex of the eastern disturbance. Her actions were not the result of aggressive imperialism, commercial exploitation or territorial covetousness.
4. THE SECOND MACEDONIAN WAR
When Rome and Philip settled down to play the game of war, the dice were heavily weighted in Rome’s favour, though the Greeks at first acted with great circumspection. Beside Rhodes and Pergamum, which could not put land forces into the field against Macedon, Rome only had the help of Athens, which provided a good naval base in the Aegean, and of the semi-barbarous princes of Illyria, Dardania, and Athamania in the north; the Aetolians were waiting to see which way the wind would blow. Philip’s Greek allies were equally slow to rally to his banner. The Achaean League, his nominal ally, sent no material help, though some volunteers came from Boeotia, Acarnania and Epirus. The wealthier Greeks distrusted his ideas of social revolution, and the upper classes in most towns inclined rather towards Rome.13 Finally, two savage raids on Attica in the autumn of 200 increased his unpopularity. The initial neutrality and caution of Aetolia and Achaea was natural, because the Hannibalic War had revealed the measure of Rome’s strength. They could hardly doubt that ultimate victory would fall to Rome; by taking up arms they might delay this, but then they would have to face Rome’s vengeance. Or even if they thought victory possible, what would they gain by it? Might it not make Philip’s hand on Greece still heavier to bear? And Rome was coming, nominally at any rate, to protect a Greek city from Macedon.
The Romans can scarcely have anticipated great difficulty in launching an attack on Philip. Their naval supremacy allowed them to strike wherever they wished. They could devastate part of the enemy’s land before Philip could concentrate his strength there. Their own and their allies’ forces could surround him on most sides. True, if he made a spectacular start, he might hope to turn the balance in Greece in his favour and elicit help from Achaea and the continued neutrality of Aetolia; but otherwise he must expect to see more Greeks gradually rallying to the Roman cause and the net being drawn more tightly around him. Further, the Romans could count on their big battalions; if one expeditionary force was defeated, they could send out another, but Philip would find it very difficult to raise a second army if his forces were worsted in open battle. He was thus forced to renounce the offensive and plan a cautious but energetic defensive, however alien it was to his impulsive nature. He must try to wear down the Romans’ patience. After all, they were weary of war, and the struggle in Greece was not vital, as they did not premeditate territorial expansion: possibly it might be fought to a standstill. The First Macedonian War provided good reason for such a hope; the Romans in weariness had left the Greeks to settle it by themselves; and their final intervention had been somewhat half-hearted. It had also trained Philip in the requisite strategy. Small fights, plundering raids, and surprise attacks had gradually exhausted both sides. But such a defensive strategy, although the best that Philip could devise, had many drawbacks: he must divide his forces to protect all fronts, and every loss he suffered, every unpunished devastation or strategic retreat would encourage his allies to desert and would drive the neutrals into the enemy’s arms. But despite its shortcomings this plan was the only feasible reply to Rome’s invasion. It was impossible to rally the Greeks to unite against a foreign invader. The Greek spirit had seldom permitted that, while now Rome was coming to protect Greece from Macedon. Thus Philip did not lack boldness in entering the lists in so unequal a contest.14
Landing with two legions near Apollonia in the autumn of 200, Sulpicius Galba sent a force to ravage the Macedonian frontier and a squadron to protect Athens. The former captured Antipatreia, the latter raided Chalcis en route. The next year Sulpicius planned to encircle Macedon; the Dardanians were to attack from the north, the Athamanes from the south, the navy from the east at Chalcidice. He himself advanced boldly from the west along the line of the later Via Egnatia and penetrated into Macedonia notwithstanding difficulties of commissariat and communications. Philip meantime advanced from Pella and after some manoeuvring gave battle at Ottolobus, where he suffered a slight defeat, which Sulpicius did not follow up. Though trivial, the engagement had the important result of deciding the Aetolians to support Rome. From the plain of Lyncestis (modern Monastir) Sulpicius might have turned north to join his Dardanian allies, but he preferred to march south, perhaps to join the Aetolians. Philip in vain contested his passage through the pass of Banitza and was again defeated. But hampered by practical difficulties in the heart of the enemy’s country Sulpicius prudently turned westwards and returned to the Adriatic after completing a great circuit. Philip did not attempt to hinder him, for danger threatened on other fronts. His general beat back the Dardanians who had entered Paeonia, while he himself hurried south to Gomphi to drive back the Aetolians who had broken into Thessaly. The Roman naval attack in the Aegean, though unopposed by Philip, had produced only small successes apart from its capture of Oreus. Thus the year’s campaign, notwithstanding Philip’s activity, had seriously damaged his prestige in Greece; Aetolia had sided with Rome, while Achaea was tending in this direction and was only stopped by certain territorial concessions from Philip.
Sulpicius’ successor found that Philip had occupied a strong position on his western front near Antigoneia, which controlled the Aoüs valley to Thessaly and covered the Drinus valley to Epirus, thus preventing the Romans from joining the Aetolians by either valley.15 Evidently Philip realized the need to take the offensive, at least in appearance, and not to wait for a Roman army to invade his territory. The Roman commander, however, was almost immediately replaced by the consul T. Quinctius Flamininus, who arrived with reinforcements in
the spring of 198. On the banks of the Aoüs the Epirotes arranged a meeting between Flamininus and Philip. Flamininus declared that Philip must abandon all the Greek states which he held and must offer compensation where actual restoration was impossible. Philip was ready to abandon what he had taken, but not what he had inherited, and to submit the question of indemnities to arbitration: that is, he was clearly prepared to sacrifice much. When Flamininus suggested that he should start with Thessaly, Philip indignantly broke off negotiations. From this it is clear, as it must have been clear to the Greeks, what Rome’s intention was. Philip was to be driven out of Greece. The terms he offered might have prevented the war, but were inadequate to stop it when once started. If they were accepted Macedon would remain an autonomous great power, though humbled. But future peace and security could only be obtained by breaking the power of Macedon. As Scipio had realized that lasting peace could not be secured merely by driving Hannibal from Italy, so now Flamininus wished to conquer Macedon and to deprive her, like Carthage, of an independent foreign policy. His rousing proclamation not only expressed his own desire, but showed the official policy of the Senate.16
A History of the Roman World Page 34