CHAPTER XXVI

THE ROMANS IN ILLYRIA

I.

THE EARLY RELATIONS OF ROME WITH THE GREEK WORLD

 

IT has already been shown how easy it was at all times for Greek influences to find their way to Rome, and how in the course of the third century, after the submission of Tarentum, the annexation by the Romans of three-quarters of Sicily and their consequent relations with the Syracusan monarchy, these influences became increasingly active and fruitful. At that period the coming to Rome of many Greeks gave rise to a widely extended knowledge of the Greek language: the most enlightened part of the Roman public, the higher social strata which furnished the personnel of government, learnt to admire ancient Greek literature, and the Latin Muse made its first tentative essays, translations or imitations of Greek originals or Greek models. But it is a remarkable fact that while the literary forms in which Greek thought was embodied received a more and more enthusiastic welcome at Rome, the group of countries to the east of Italy, where lay the principal seats of earlier and later Hellenic culture, continued to be entirely outside the sphere of Roman political action.

The contrary has often been maintained. If we could accept the conjectures of certain modern historians; if, like them, we could give credence to certain Roman traditions of late date, it would appear that the Senate early adopted an ‘Eastern’ policy, the effects of which were felt as far as Rhodes, Asia, and Egypt. But criticism cannot countenance these conjectures and traditions. The supposed ‘Treaty of Friendship and Commerce,’ which according to Droysen the Romans had concluded with Rhodes in the year 306, is wholly imaginary, and owes its origin merely to  a late alteration in a passage of Polybius. The ‘friendship and alliance’ which the Republic is alleged to have formed with ‘King Seleucus (?),’ on condition that he exempted the town of Ilium from all tribute, has no authority other than the mention made of it in a document which is certainly apocryphal. Even less credible is that offer of military aid which the Senate, according to Eutropius, made to Ptolemy III when he was at war with ‘Antiochus,’ an offer declined by the king of Egypt. One only of the facts asserted by the Roman traditions can be retained as authentic. About 273 BC, from motives which remain obscure, Ptolemy Philadelphus took the initiative in sending an embassy to Rome, in consequence of which amicable relations were established between the Roman People and the Alexandrian Court. The addition made by the annalists—that this action on the part of Philadelphus resulted in the conclusion of an agreement, or of a treaty uniting Rome and Egypt—must be held extremely suspect; in any event, as subsequent history shows, this agreement cannot have had any political character.

Moreover, it would be very remarkable if the Republic had gone to the trouble of having an ‘ Eastern ’ policy while it was still without a policy which could properly be called ‘Hellenic.’ And it is certain that for a long period the Senate showed no inclination to enter into political relations with the peoples and cities of European Greece. The alliance which the Romans are alleged to have made, about 266, with Apollonia (on the Illyrian coast) is directly disproved, as we shall see later, by the history of their first war with Illyria. Justin asserts that, about 239 (?), acceding to the entreaties of the Acarnanians, the Roman government attempted, though without success, to intervene on their behalf with the Aetolians, who had invaded their territory. Even if a fact, this attempted intervention, not spontaneous in origin and abandoned by the Senate the moment it encountered resistance from the Aetolians, would be an event of very small significance. But among the many reasons which lead us to consider it imaginary, there is one which appears decisive. We owe to Polybius the valuable information that, prior to the last quarter of the third century bc— more precisely, prior to 228—no Roman embassy had ever set foot in Greece. There is no justification for casting doubt on this categorical statement. It is, accordingly, the best possible proof of the prolonged indifference of Roman ruling circles towards theGreek States, and of the absence of any desire on their part to make these States the object of their political aims.

We are here struck by an interesting contrast. As is shown in turn by the enterprises of Archidamus, Alexander I of Epirus, Cleonymus and Pyrrhus, a long succession of Greek rulers were ready enough to turn their ambitions towards Italy; while Rome, on the contrary, though mistress of Italy, and, in virtue of her domination of Magna Graecia and Sicily, a Hellenic power, held aloof from Greece proper. Her victories had as their consequence the mutual isolation of the two peninsulas, and politically the narrow channel of the Straits of Otranto appeared to sunder two different worlds. More than ten years after making peace with Carthage, the Roman State did not yet reckon among its ‘friends’ a single city on those western shores of Greece which lay so close to Italy; and it was not until 228—according to the statement which we owe to Polybius—that, in consequence of special circumstances which we shall have to indicate later, the Senate at last deigned to accord official recognition to Athens and Corinth. It is, then, clear that, contrary to what has been arbi­trarily asserted, Greece had no irresistible attraction for the Romans of that day, despite their tincture of Hellenism. The fact is that the Greece which commanded the admiration of the con­temporaries of Livius Andronicus and Naevius, and of which they were beginning to appreciate the charm, was the Hellas which was revealed to them by her ancient poets, a Greece wholly ideal and embodied only in its literature, having nothing in common with the Greece which existed feebly in their day.

Thus the first rapid progress of Hellenism at Rome remained without influence on the external conduct of the Republic. But although, until shortly before the end of the third century bc, there was no political bond between Rome and Greece, an ancient and active maritime trade had brought Italy into permanent relations with her Greek neighbours. It was the need to punish offences against Rome in connection with this trade that finally forced the Senate to direct its attention and its activity for the first time towards these regions.

II.

ILLYRIAN PIRACY

Among the ancients the Adriatic had from the earliest times a sinister reputation; at Athens, in the fifth century, ‘to sail the Adriatic’ was a proverbial phrase meaning ‘to undertake a dangerous venture.’ From the earliest times, piracy had had free play in these waters, and this profitable career had been assiduously followed by the inhabitants of the eastern shore. For this coast, with its deep indentations, the double and sometimes triple range of islands which lie along the greater part of it, and the labyrinthine channels which wind between the islands, offered an incomparable base of operations for the exercise of their industry, and an inaccessible place of refuge from pursuit. Illyrii, Liburnique et Histri, writes Livy, gentes ferae et magna ex parte latrociniis maritimis infames. Of kindred origin, all belonging to the Illyrian race—which was distributed, as is well known, over the region bounded by the Eastern Alps, the Adriatic, the Acroceraunian mountains and two rivers, the Morava and the middle Danube—the Histrians, Liburnians, Dalmatians and the Illyrians proper (to the south of the foregoing) were all accustomed to build vessels of the same distinctive model, with lines specially adapted for speed. These were the famous lembi, precursors of the future liburnae of the Romans. They were small galleys, caiques of low free-board, with only a single bank of oars, but roomy enough to accommodate fifty men or more besides the crew; they had no ram, but tapered to a pointed prow. In these vessels, which they handled, whether under sail or oars, with extraordinary skill, the corsairs put to sea, swooping down on merchantmen and carrying devastation from coast to coast.

At the beginning of the fourth century Dionysius the Elder had attempted to curb their activities. Desiring to create a maritime empire, he endeavoured to open up the Adriatic fully to Syracusan trade, a project which involved its pacification. Resuming the colonial enterprises which had been interrupted since the close of the seventh century, he founded, or helped to found, the Greek cities of Issa, Pharos and Corcyra Nigra on the islands of the same names; and on the mainland the stations of Epetium and Tragyrium as dependencies of the Issaeans. The Illyrians, watched by the Syracusan squadron posted at Issa, were for a time held in check. But although Dionysius II made some show of continuing the work, the designs of the great Tyrant scarcely survived him. Abandoned by the Syracusans and receiving no help from the Greeks of Greece, the new colonies exhausted their resources in defending their independence against the barbarians, for the most part without success. The Adriatic continued, as before, to be delivered over to the Illyrians, and piracy, like an endemic disease, continued to be its scourge. Nevertheless, so long as Macedon under Philip and Alexander the Great made its tutelary influence felt upon the seas, and again, when Cassander, Agathocles and Demetrius successively occupied the entrance to the Straits of Otranto, and, still later, when Pyrrhus and his son Alexander II extended their authority over the seaboard from the Corinthian Gulf beyond Dyrrhachium (Epidamnus), we may well believe that the evil, confined within its ancient limits, did not extend very far into Greek waters. But, towards the close of the reign of Alexander II, the power of Epirus declined, while in Macedonia, Antigonus Gonatas, occupied in maintaining his domination over Greece and more and more drawn towards the Aegean by the necessity of resisting Egypt there, had been obliged to withdraw his attention from the western seas and had lost the great naval station of Corinth. The pirates were now able to show themselves more enterprising, and it was probably in the second half of the third century that the Illyrians began to make a habit of infesting the Ionian Sea, ravaged periodically the coasts of Elis and Messenia, and even pushed their incursions as far as Laconia. Moreover, during the same period certain political changes had come into effect on the southern half of the eastern shores of the Adriatic which resulted in rendering their in­habitants more formidable to the Hellenes.

The inhabitants of these regions had originally, and for a long period, been divided into independent nations or tribes, each with its own sovereign ruler. To the south, the most important of these peoples in the fifth and fourth centuries were the Taulantini, whose king, Glaucias, ventured to resist Alexander, fought with Cassander, took Pyrrhus under his protection, and, whether as enemy or ally, made his power felt among the neighbouring Greek cities, Dyrrhachium, Apollonia and Corcyra. A little after 250 these divisions had disappeared—we do not know precisely since when. A vast Illyrian State had been constituted, governed by one sole monarch whose sovereignty was recognized by the local dynasts, the heads of tribes or cities.

The origins of this State and the history of its formation are unknown. It would appear, however, that the work of unification which gave rise to it was accomplished by the powerful tribe of the Ardiaeans. Under the pressure of the Celts, who were moving down into the Balkans, the Ardiaeans seem, in the course of the fourth century, to have arrived on the right bank of the Naro, opposite the island of Pharos, to the south of the territory occupied by the Dalmatians. Then, without abandoning this settlement, they apparently spread along the coast, mainly in a southerly direction, in such strength that they imposed their authority on all the peoples of Southern Illyria. At the time when the Illyrian kingdom is first mentioned, in 231, the following appear to have been its limits. To the north, beyond the Naro it included at least a part of Dalmatia; its centre was in the neighbourhood of the Bocche di Cattaro and of the lake of Scutari. The fortress of Rhizon and the town of Scodra, the modern Scutari, were the royal residences. To the south the region conquered by Pyrrhus had been recovered, and the Illyrian State, stretching beyond the Drilo (Drin), bordered on the territories of Dyrrhachium and Apollonia; it included, in particular, to the east of Dyrrhachium, the tribe of the Parthinians. Naturally the islands off the coast became its maritime dependencies. Of all the Hellenic colonies of the fourth century Issa alone, and with the greatest difficulty, had succeeded in preserving its freedom.

The existence of a strong and compact Illyrian State on the northern frontier of Greece was necessarily a menace to the latter. One of its principal consequences was the organization of piracy on an extensive scale by the fostering care of the royal power. It continued to be exercised by individuals acting independently, but it also took on a public character and became a national industry. From time to time, when more ambitious expeditions were afoot, the lembi, drawn from all parts of the country, assembled en masse at the royal summons and formed powerful flotillas. An Illyrian navy was thus created, capable of warlike enterprises, powerful enough to attempt not only pillage but conquest.

III.

ILLYRIA UNDER AGRON AND TEUTA

Between the years 240 and 229, in the reign of Agron son of Pleuratus and the subsequent regency of his widow, Queen Teuta, the kingdom of Illyria enjoyed its most glorious period. At the moment when he becomes known to history, Agron had an infant son named Pinnes, whose mother, Triteuta, had not the status of a wife. The Illyrian chief Scerdilaidas, who becomes so important in the sequel, was, it is believed, a brother of the king. ‘Agron,’ says Polybius, ‘had a stronger army and navy than any of his predecessors.’ Circumstances gave him the opportunity of turning them to account. The Illyrians had, indeed, to the eastward troublesome neighbours, their brothers by race, the Dardanians, the untamed inhabitants of the high valleys of the Axius, the Margus and the Strymon, who were constantly encroaching upon their frontiers. But on the south there was no one to stand in their way, and the contemptible naval weakness of the Greek states left the sea completely open to them. It was long since Corcyra had had a fleet; the Aetolians had never had One; the Achaeans had only ten ships of the cataphract, the Acarnanians only seven. On land Agron had nothing to fear from the Epirotes or the Macedonians. After the death of Alexander II (c. 240) the Epirote kingdom, assailed by the Aetolians, had been reduced to beg for help from Macedonia and had grown steadily weaker. It was at this period, it would seem, that Agron was able to recover without difficulty the Illyrian territories formerly annexed by Pyrrhus. And before long the fall of the Aeacid dynasty (c. 235) still further hastening the decadence of Epirus was to mark the end of its historic role. As for Macedon, the traditional enemy of the Illyrians, any idea of interference on its part was out of the question. Demetrius II, the son of Antigonus Gonatas, had other cares to occupy him. For nearly ten years he had been obliged to fight almost without intermission against a coalition of the Aetolians and Achaeans, and, in addition, to carry on a war, in which he was in the end unsuccessful, against the Dardanians. In this extremely critical position, far from picking a quarrel with Agron, he had three good reasons for coming into closer relations with him: Agron, like himself, was at enmity with the Dardanians; it was not without considerable satisfaction that he saw Elis and Messenia, countries friendly to Aetolia, fall a prey to the pirates; finally, in the decadence into which the Macedonian navy had fallen the Illyrian forces could at need operate in its place against the Aetolians.

This is precisely what happened, in 231: the novel spectacle was seen of a king of Macedon having recourse to the good offices of a king of Illyria, and this prepared the way for the event which revealed to Greece proper the military vigour of the Illyrians. The Aetolians, wishing to compel the Acarnanians, who were on friendly terms with Demetrius, to enter their League, laid siege to Medeon, on the south-east of the gulf of Ambracia, and pressed the siege so vigorously that the town was on the point of falling. Prevented by the Dardanian war from giving aid himself to the besieged, Demetrius turned to Agron. In return for a subsidy Agron sent to the help of Medeon 100 lembi carrying 5000 fighting-men. No sooner had the Illyrians disembarked than they fell upon the Aetolians, who, completely defeated, were obliged to raise the siege, leaving behind them large numbers of prisoners, all their baggage and ample booty (Oct. 231). If we remember that since their defeat of the Gauls, the Aetolians had claimed, and had been generally accorded, the reputation of being the most warlike of the Greeks, we can imagine the consternation caused by their defeat.

Agron died immediately after his triumph, which he had celebrated, it is said, by feasting to excess. Teuta succeeded him as guardian of the child Pinnes (c. winter 231 bc). Influenced by the ‘friends’ of the dead king, elated with pride at his success, she was eager to equal it; in any case it was certain that under her regency the Illyrians would not cease to be ‘the common scourge of the Greeks.’ Had they contented themselves with being the scourge of the Greeks only, their piracies might have continued indefinitely; but they made themselves also a scourge of Italian commerce. Herein lay Teuta’s danger. Polybius relates that mariners setting sail from Italy towards the east often fell victims to the Illyrian pirates—and indeed, it could not have been otherwise. From the moment when these pirates, already the terror of the Adriatic, extended their range towards the south, the main sea-route across the Straits of Otranto from Italy to Greece was constantly either blocked or threatened. It became impossible for merchants sailing from Brundisium or from Hydrus to traffic safely with the trading stations which were dotted along the Hellenic seaboard, from Dyrrhachium to Corcyra, or to make the voyage to Corinth and the Piraeus. It may even have been that the towns and countryside of Southern Italy had to endure the hateful visitations of the lembi. The strange thing is that such a state of affairs was allowed to continue; that the Romans, all-powerful on the seas since the defeat of Carthage, and possessing a formidable navy, with a strong base at Brundisium since 246, did not promptly put an end to so intolerable a situation. They could have cleared the Straits with a gesture, but they seemed in no hurry to make it. To the repeated complaints of the seamen the Senate turned a deaf ear. Was it from reluctance to use the forces of the State in the interests of private persons? Or from indifference to maritime commerce? Explain it how we may, this inaction is an indication that Rome did not readily turn her attention to events east of Italy, and that she was not greatly concerned at the fact that economic contact with Greece was becoming more and more difficult. And this would be quite inconceivable if Rome had already cherished, as has been asserted, the definite purpose of bringing Greece under Roman influence. But the very impunity which the Illyrians enjoyed had the effect of increasing their audacity to such a point that the patience of the Romans was at last exhausted.

Teuta, when once she had become regent, lost no time in showing herself a worthy successor of her husband. In the spring of 230 bC she assembled a fleet and army equal to those of Agron, Scerdilaidas commanding the army, which numbered 5000 men. The fleet had orders to sail for Elis and Messenia, but its commanders had been directed to ‘consider as enemies any countries which they encountered.’ Consequently the pirate fleet made its first stop at Epirus, under pretext of revictualling, and treasonably, with the complicity of the Gallic mercenaries who formed its garrison, seized Phoenice the capital of the country; the whole population, whether freemen or slaves, were made prisoners. The Epirote army, hastily mobilized, hurried to the rescue, but the approach of Scerdilaidas, who, coming by land, invaded Epirus by the ‘passes of Antigoneia’ (the famous gorges of the Aoils to the north-west of its confluence with the Drinus), compelled it to divide its forces. While a part of the troops went to meet Scerdilaidas, the main body, halting in the neighbourhood of Phoenice, allowed itself to be taken unawares by the Illyrians who were occupying the town, was routed, and put to flight. Thus at the first encounter the Epirotes lost more than half their forces. The victors, issuing from Phoenice, then laid waste the plain, while Scerdilaidas, having cleared his path, marched to join them. Caught between the two invading armies, the Epirotes in their distress invoked the aid of the Aetolians and Achaeans. A combined Achaeo-Aetolian army advanced as far as Helicranum, whereupon the united forces of the Illyrians marched to offer battle. At this juncture disturbances which had arisen in Illyria—the rebellion and defection of certain tribes who had gone over to the Dardanians—compelled Teuta hastily to recall the whole of her forces. The Illyrians in retiring made a truce with the Epirotes; they restored Phoenice and gave up, on payment of ransom, the freemen whom they had made prisoners, but they carried off the rest of their booty, which was very great.

This expedition of the Illyrians produced in Greece profound uneasiness—and not without reason, for Epirus had been all but conquered. Who could tell whether, once they vanquished the Epirotes, they would not have dealt in like manner with their allies and have repeated at Helicranum their exploit at Medeon? The best proof of the terror which they inspired was furnished by the Epirotes themselves immediately after their deliverance. Judging themselves insecure, and fearing a new invasion, they abandoned their alliance with Aetolia and Achaea, and along with the Acarnanians besought Teuta to accept them as allies. The queen demanded as the price of her consent the cession of Atintania, the central part of the valley of the Aoüs, which placed in her hands the valuable passes of Antigoneia. Thus in the summer of 230 Illyria definitely dominated Epirus and Acarnania, and, as masters of Atintania, the barbarians commanded two routes by which they could reach the heart of the Greek countries. Half a century before the Greeks had known the Gallic peril; now came the Illyrian.

IV. 

THE FIRST ROMAN WAR WITH ILLYRIA

But in reality the Illyrians were the dupes of their own good fortune. Their victory in Epirus was to be the first step towards their ruin. After the capture of Phoenice, some Illyrians, encountering ‘a number of Italian merchants,’ had treated them even worse than usual; not content with robbing them, they had made prisoners of many, and had even put some of them to death. If Teuta knew anything about this escapade, she no doubt regarded it as of small importance; but therein she was mistaken. In Italy, and also at Rome, so fierce a storm of anger broke out that at last the Senate was obliged to act. It took care, however, to do nothing precipitate. If it had been inspired by warlike sentiments it could have sent a squadron overseas immediately, but it confined itself to diplomatic action. It did no more than send to Illyria an embassy to demand reparation for the past and guarantees for the future.

For the moment, however, all went well with Teuta. Her troops on their return had promptly subjugated the insurgent tribes who had gone over to the Dardanians. Internal peace being thus restored, the queen, delighted at her recent successes, was fully determined to pursue her policy of conquest abroad. She now proposed to annex those Greek cities, whether insular or continental, which, while near neighbours of Illyria, were not yet under her sway—Issa to the north, Corcyra to the south, and, on the coast, Dyrrhachium and Apollonia. Issa was the first to be attacked; Teuta in person proceeded to lay siege to it. It was at this moment that she received the visit of the Senate’s envoys, C. and L. Coruncanius (autumn 230).

The parties to this controversy were so vastly unequal that it might well have seemed that the weaker must hasten to grant all that the stronger demanded. However ill-informed we may suppose her to have been, Teuta must have had some idea of the power of Rome, nor could she have been ignorant either of Rome’s victory over Carthage or of the strength of the Roman navy. But she cherished a strange delusion—a delusion, however, which at this epoch was shared by all the inhabitants of the eastern shores of the Adriatic and the Ionian Sea. Since the Romans had always hitherto abstained from sending their fleets into those seas, she persuaded herself that they would never do so. Her reception of the envoys was therefore ungracious and haughty. She told them indeed that she would see to it that the Illyrians should not publicly undertake any enterprise against the Romans; but in the same breath added that the laws of the country did not permit the sovereigns of Illyria to forbid to their subjects the private exercise of piracy. She thus gave them to understand that the outrages of which the Romans complained were the act of private persons, that she was not responsible for them and that it was not for her to repress them—a sufficiently impudent declaration, since the expedition to Epirus had had in the eyes of all a public character. It is true that she had not the power to forbid the Illyrians to range the seas; to do so would have been to risk her crown. But she could have offered to conclude with the Romans a treaty of asylia—such as was customary among the Greeks—which would have guaranteed the inviolability of Italian commerce. She did not, however, deign to consider such a solution. Irritated by her attitude and her language, the younger of the envoys, L. Coruncanius, retorted, it is said, that ‘the Romans would find means of compelling her to reform the Illyrian laws.’ A statement ‘justified in itself,’ says Polybius, ‘but untimely.’ Thereupon the wrath of the queen blazed up and the negotiations were broken off.

The situation was not yet hopeless; but there followed an act that was irreparable. As the envoys were on their way back to Italy pirates started in pursuit, attacked them, and killed L. Coruncanius. Was this done by the queen’s orders ? At Rome no one doubted it; what the truth was, we cannot say. But the mere fact of the murderers being Teuta’s subjects involved her in responsibility. As a matter of fact she accepted it le coeur léger. She expressed no regret to the Senate, she made no attempt whatever to exculpate herself; thus justifying all their suspicions. In view of this, no other course was open to the patres than to avenge by force of arms this outrage upon the majesty of Rome. It has been repeatedly asserted that the Illyrian war was premeditated by the Senate. An examination of the tradition preserved by Polybius, a tradition in all essentials worthy of belief, absolutely disproves this theory. It was Teuta who by her blind obstinacy rendered this war inevitable. If she had shown herself reasonable, or, still more, if Italian merchants had not been murdered in Epirus, no one can say how long it would have been before a Roman fleet crossed the Straits.

Strange as it may appear, there is still further proof that Teuta apprehended no action on the part of the Romans. In the spring of 229 some months after her interview with the Roman envoys she renewed her aggressive enterprises with still greater boldness. Demetrius II, the powerful ally of the Illyrians, on whose support she had presumably counted, had been heavily defeated by the Dardanians (summer 230?) and had died not long afterwards (c. March—April 229). As his successor was a mere child of nine years, his death left Macedonia exposed to the gravest dangers. These were, it might have seemed, serious blows for Teuta, but her audacity was not daunted. While still carrying on the siege of Issa she sent into southern waters a flotilla still more numerous than that of the previous year. The prize she had now in view was the island of Corcyra—which happened to be one of the stations most frequented by Italian seamen. After an attempt—which all but succeeded—to take Dyrrhachium treacherously by surprise, as they had formerly taken Phoenice, the Illyrians fell upon Corcyra in full strength and laid siege to the town. In their extremity the Corcyraeans, in common with the Apollonians and Dyrrhachians, sought help from without. But the remarkable thing is that they did not address their appeal to the Romans—a clear indication that even after the passages between the latter and Teuta, no one in Greece foresaw their armed intervention. Like the Epirotes in 230, the Corcyraeans and their neighbours appealed to the Aetolians and Achaeans, whose naval weakness was nevertheless well known. Their request was granted. The Achaean fleet—it numbered ten ships of the line—having on board an Achaeo-Aetolian force set sail in haste for Corcyra. But near Paxos it encountered the Illyrians, reinforced by seven warships of the Acarnanians, coming to oppose it. The barbarians, lashing their lembi four abreast, waited till the enemy bore down on them, and then attacked by boarding. Their victory was complete; four Achaean vessels were taken, a fifth was sunk; the Achaean fleet was at one blow reduced by half. Left without succour, Corcyra capitulated and admitted an Illyrian garrison. The victors then, turning northwards again, laid siege to Dyrrhachium (summer 229).

It was at this moment that the Romans, whom all had left out of account, came into action. They were commanded by the two consuls. Cn. Fulyius Centumalus with 200 warships—if the number is not exaggerated—made straight for Corcyra in order to raise the blockade. He arrived too late, but treason came to his aid. The Illyrians who had been left in Corcyra were under the leadership of a Greek of Pharos named Demetrius, who, it appears, ruled his native island under the suzerainty of Teuta. Knowing that he had incurred the suspicions of the queen and dreading disgrace, above all judging it vain to resist the Romans, he hastened to go over to their side, offered his services to Fulvius, and delivered up to him the town which had been confided to his charge, along with his own troops. Being thus rid of the Illyrians, the Corcyraeans at the instance of the consul gladly made an act of surrender (deditio) to their deliverers. Guided by Demetrius, the Roman fleet then appeared before Apollonia, where the consul L. Postumius Albinus, arriving from Brundisium, disembarked the land army, 20,000 foot and 2000 horse. The Apollonians, like the Corcyraeans, surrendered at discretion; and a like success awaited the Romans at Dyrrhachium, before which the consuls next appeared. The Illyrians were besieging the town; but what could their lembi do against the Roman armada? The besiegers retreated in disorder and the inhabitants hastened to make submission to Rome. Their example was promptly followed by the two neighbouring barbarian peoples—the Parthinians and the Atintanes. Up to this point the expedition had been a mere military promenade. Received by the Greeks with open arms, the Romans had, by the mere terror they inspired and without striking a blow, wrested from Illyrian domination the whole eastern shore of the Straits of Otranto. That in fact was their objective. They had no intention of penetrating into the heart of the enemy’s country and making conquests in Central Illyria. On land, the legions do not seem to have advanced far north of the Drilo (Drin). By sea, the fleet, convoying the army, sailed as far as Issa, which Teuta was still besieging. As at Dyrrhachium, the Illyrians vanished at its approach. The queen, accompanied only by a few faithful followers, fled to Rhizon; and the Issaeans surrendered to the Romans. The latter took possession of Pharos (the inhabitants of which were well treated, out of regard for Demetrius), and doubtless also of Corcyra Nigra; they then made descents upon various points of the neighbouring coast and took several towns. In some cases the operations were attended with difficulty; at Noutria they lost a considerable number of men, several legionary tribunes and one of the two consular quaestors. This check suggested prudence; returning to Dyrrhachium the consuls regarded the expedition as at an end. One of them, probably Postumius, returned to Italy with the greater part of both the sea and land forces (autumn 229); Fulvius, retaining only 40 ships, wintered in Illyria.

He waited in the expectation that Teuta would make her sub­mission. She at length did so in the spring of 228. By the treaty which was then concluded she renounced all claim to the districts, islands or towns taken by the Romans, bound herself to pay them a war-indemnity in annual instalments, and undertook that the Illyrians would never send more than two lembi at a time, and those unarmed, beyond Lissus, the town which henceforth marked the southern limit of maritime Illyria. This last clause, the most important of all, ensured the safety of Hellenic waters and of the crossing between Italy and Greece, and showed clearly what had been the purpose of the war.

The Romans divided their conquests into two parts. Deme­trius, their new ally, received the price of his services: Pharos, his hereditary domain, was of course restored to him, and, with several other islands and places on the neighbouring seaboard which had been taken from the Illyrians, was formed into a petty State (a dynasteia), over which he exercised sovereignty by the permission of Rome. The Romans placed this enemy of the Illyrian monarchy on its flank to keep an eye upon it and to hamper its activities. It was their intention that he should be to Illyria what Masinissa was later to Carthage and Eumenes to Syria and Macedonia. As for the islands of Corcyra and Issa, they did not give them up any more than the territories on the mainland which had fallen into their hands at the beginning of the campaign.

We have now to indicate the extent of these territories, so far as our insufficient information permits. To the north they terminated in the neighbourhood of the town of Lissus; to the south, bounded by the Acroceraunian range and the Chaonian mountains, they bordered on the portion of Epirus which lies to the north of Phoenice, thus corresponding to the western part of central and southern Albania. In addition to the hilly country which rises to the east of Dyrrhachium, they included the whole of the low plain formed by the alluvial deposits of three rivers, the Genusus, the Apsus and the Aoüs, and the group of hills which dominates this plain on the south. Towards the south-east the conquered territory extended along the valley of the Aoiis to its confluence with the Drinus, and probably along that of the Drinus also. To the east it was bounded by the mountainous country, inhabited by the Dassaretae, from which the Genusus and the Apsus debouch into the plain; on this side it was contiguous, in its southern half, with western Macedonia, its frontier passing close to the Macedonian town of Antipatreia. The whole of the districts which remained in the hands of the Romans formed a coastal strip of not less than 120 miles with a breadth which varied from 20 to 40 miles. Among the native inhabitants may be mentioned: behind Dyrrhachium, the Parthinians; to the south of Apollonia, the Iliones, who, like the Parthinians, were of Illyrian origin; the Atintanes in the central part of the valley of the Aoüs and perhaps in that of the Drinus also. In addition to the Hellenic cities on the coast, Dyrrhachium and Apollonia, with which may be reckoned Aulon (Valona) and Oricus, there were several towns of mixed barbarian and Greek population, such as Dimale (or Dimallum), of unknown site but certainly near Dyrrhachium, Byllis, commanding the right bank of the Aoiis where it issues from the mountains; farther to the south, Amantia; Antigoneia, near the gorges of the Aoüs, a little below its confluence with the Drinus.

All these districts were, after 229, permanently under a Roman protectorate. Juridically the inhabitants counted as dediticii enjoying libertas precaria. Such was, in particular, the position of the Parthinians and Atintanes; and also of the Greek cities which had submitted to the consuls—Corcyra, Apollonia, Dyrrhachium, Issa and the rest. The inhabitants of these cities and the barbarians of the surrounding country had not the status of socii Populi Romani, nor on the other hand were they precisely subjects: they paid no tribute and no Roman agent resided among them; but though allowed free self-government, they remained in entire dependence upon the Republic. The Romans reserved to themselves, in particular, the right to demand from them, if need be, military and naval contingents; as they had in fact done in the winter of 229—8. The Greek cities which had become vassals of Rome gave later constant evidence of fidelity and devotion; obviously they had no cause to complain of their new condition.

To sum up. The Roman expedition had neither the purpose nor the result of destroying, or even of diminishing considerably, the kingdom of Agron and Pinnes. The Illyrian State lost only the most southerly of its possessions, its principal insular dependencies, and a few points on its northern seaboard. But on the west it was henceforth flanked by a neighbour who threatened to be dangerous, Demetrius of Pharos; and to the south the Romans had established themselves indirectly but effectively along its frontier.

V.  

THE ROMANS AND ANTIGONUS DOSON

This first establishment by Rome of a foothold on the eastern shore of the straits is a great historic fact, the repercussions of which were to be extremely important; but we must not exaggerate the advantages derived from it by the Romans nor misrepresent its character by an arbitrary interpretation of events.

It is commonly repeated that after imposing their protectorate on Lower Illyria the Romans found themselves masters of the Adriatic in the same sense that they had been masters of the Tyrrhenian Sea since the annexation of Sardinia and Corsica. It is a patent exaggeration, and those who fall into it are misled by a false analogy. Masters of Corsica, Sardinia, the north of Sicily and the islands scattered between Sicily and Italy, the Romans completely encircled the Tyrrhenian Sea, they held it by the possession of all its coasts; it was thenceforth merely a Roman lake. But, on the contrary, as masters of Corcyra and Lower Illyria they held only the southern end of the Adriatic where it enters the Ionian Sea; they possessed only the key to it. We have to take into account, it is true, that their alliance with Demetrius and their suzerainty over the Issaeans placed under their protection the middle region of the Adriatic, lying between Pharos, with the seaboard east of it, and that part of the Italian coast where lay the colonies of Firmum, Castrum NoVum and Hadria. But it must not be forgotten that, from the mouth of the Naro to Lissus, the whole coast continued to be outside their control. And still more completely independent of them was the northern part of the seaboard, from Cape Diomede to the peninsula of Histria. In these conditions it is idle to speak of a Roman ‘domination’ of the Adriatic. It is obvious that the Dalmatians (those of them at least who were not subject to the Illyrians), the Liburnians and the Histrians did not feel themselves affected by the expedition of 229, and that piracy continued to flourish in the lower part of the Adriatic.

It has moreover been asserted that in setting foot for the first time on the Hellenic peninsula the Romans were only obeying their ruling passion of Imperialism. The truth is that, just as their war with Teuta had had no other cause than the repeated provocations of the Illyrians, so their establishment on the further side of the Adriatic was no more than the natural completion and the necessary corollary of their victory. It was a good thing no doubt to have forbidden the defeated enemy to extend his expeditions southward; but little confidence was to be placed in the oath of the barbarians who doubtless were eager to break the treaty which had been forced upon them. This treaty, the outcome of her efforts, Rome must be able to enforce. Hence the necessity to hold, on the farther side of the sea, a base of operations where she could in case of need—if the treaty was menaced—moor her ships and disembark her troops, and also to have, in the same region, clients united to her by the closest bonds of dependence, ready to aid her efforts, to receive and revictual her troops, and even to reinforce them with an auxiliary militia. Moreover it was the Romans who would henceforth be responsible for the policing of the Straits; a task which they could only carry out if they had constantly at their disposal some of the maritime towns on the eastern shores. They must be able in case of need to place their guardships at Dyrrhachium or Apollonia. Finally, it was necessary to isolate the kingdom of Illyria from its new Greek allies, the Epirotes and the Acarnanians. In declaring themselves the protectors of the coastal region from Lissus to Epirus which the Illyrians had abandoned, but could not cease to covet, they were only taking a necessary precaution.

But it is possible that they were the more disposed to take this precaution against the Illyrians because it was a precaution also against the Macedonians. For the moment, no doubt, the latter were not formidable. After the death of Demetrius II, his cousin Antigonus Doson, who became regent for his young son Philip, had been confronted with a most difficult situation. An invasion of the Dardanians and a rising in Thessaly instigated by the Aetolians (not to speak of the general defection of the cities in the Peloponnese which were dependent upon the Macedonian monarchy) had for a year past (229-228) kept him fully occupied—and this was probably the reason why he had not attempted to assist Teuta. But it was quite possible that better days might be in store for Macedon; might not its kings, once so powerful upon the sea, again become so? At Rome men had not forgotten the adventure of Pyrrhus fifty years before. Possibly they con­sidered it wise to seize the chance of preventing its recurrence, holding that Italy would always be exposed to danger from the east so long as an enemy fleet could set sail for her shores from the ports of Lower Illyria, or lurk at Corcyra. They may have argued that the Macedonians cast longing eyes both upon those ports and upon the island, and that it would be best to take the present opportunity of putting these places out of the reach of this potential enemy.

To credit the Romans with these considerations—not wholly unlike those which had formerly determined them to occupy Messana—to suggest that in their dealings with Illyrian affairs they had in mind the placing of an obstacle in the way of Macedonia, is no more than a conjecture, and is open to question. But it is beyond question that their method of settling these affairs did actually place such an obstacle in Macedonia’s way, and that Antigonus Doson found himself unable to accept the situation. For him, of course, as for all his predecessors, the Illyrian coast was on the west what the Thracian coast was on the east— a necessary dependency of the Macedonian kingdom. Macedonia must, as a matter of course, have access to the Adriatic, and equally as a matter of course, Dyrrhachium and Apollonia, former conquests of Cassander, and Corcyra, formerly held by Demetrius Poliorcetes, must return to the possession of their successors. In brusquely declaring themselves masters of these towns, in establishing themselves, with insolent sans gêne, on the flank of Macedonia and hemming it in upon the west, in raising, as Pyrrhus had done, a barrier between it and the sea, the Romans had, whether intentionally or not, taken advantage of her present powerlessness to infringe grievously her historic rights and thwart her traditional ambitions. And, worst of all, had not Macedonia some grounds for believing herself to be threatened? Was it good that the mouths of the valleys of the Genusus, Apsus and Aoüs, which led from the coast into Macedonian territory, and the passes of Antigoneia, the key to the line of communication between the Kingdom and Epirus, should be in the hands of the Romans? Moreover, we have to take into account the fact that Antigonus felt keenly the defeat of the Illyrians, allies of his house. He was furious at not having been able to defend them, and he had lost in them useful auxiliaries against Aetolia. Finally, beyond doubt, he was bitterly chagrined at seeing strangers—and barbarians at that—usurp the proud role, so long sustained by the Macedonian princes, of protectors of Hellenism against the barbarism of the north. For a host of reasons the Roman victory and its consequences must have been odious to him, as indeed they were. For the moment, occupied as he was with more pressing tasks, no other course was open to him than to leave the Romans to do what they would; but they must reckon with his lasting enmity. Out of the Illyrian question there thus arose for the Romans a Macedonian question; their expedition of 229 and establishment on the eastern Adriatic coast had the direct effect of creating between them and Macedon a necessary antagonism. They appear to have had some consciousness of this. Contrary to what courtesy would seem to have demanded, no Roman embassy was dispatched to Pella; it is probable that they judged any understanding with Antigonus to be impossible. But was not this ignoring of them, this treatment of them as non-existent, likely to constitute for the regent and for his ward, the young Philip, an unforgettable affront?

But if the Romans after their victory over Teuta neglected to enter into relations with Macedon, on the other hand—for the first time in their history—they came into official contact with Greece. Although—and the fact is significant—the two peoples who were their nearest neighbours, the Epirotes and the Acarnanians, allies of the Illyrians and on friendly terms with the Macedonians, were not favoured by a visit, yet, no sooner was peace concluded than the consul who had remained in Illyria sent a mission to the Aetolians and Achaeans. His representatives explained to them the course of events which had led to the war and forced the Romans to cross the sea, briefly related the incidents of the expedition, and read the treaty which had been im­posed upon Teuta; in short they directed their efforts to justifying the intervention of Rome and emphasizing its happy results, thus affecting by a flattering deference to seek the approval of the two great Greek Confederacies. However courteous this action may have been, it placed a rather severe strain upon Hellenic amour propre, for the vanquished of Paxos could not fail to be humiliated by the contrast between Roman might and their own weakness. But they swallowed their mortification, and loaded the Romans with laudatory resolutions. And in fact they were sincerely delighted to be rid of the Illyrian nightmare. A little later (probably still in the year 228) the Senate decided to send ambassadors to Corinth and Athens, where Roman envoys had never before appeared. There, too, their welcome was extremely cordial. The Corinthians, as a signal mark of favour, decreed the admission of the Roman people to the Isthmian Games. This was, in principle, to declare them members of the Hellenic community; though, for all that, the Greeks continued to look on them as barbarians.

The peoples and cities to which the Romans sent missions in 228 had this one thing in common, that they were hostile to Macedonia. The Achaeans and Aetolians had, as we have seen, leagued themselves together against Demetrius II; the Aetolians had lately raised Thessaly against Antigonus, and the Achaeans had annexed the last possessions of the Macedonians in the Peloponnese. Fifteen years earlier, the Corinthians, thanks to the fortunate coup-de-main of Aratus, had shaken off the Macedonian yoke; and the Athenians had freed themselves from it in 229, the very year of the Illyrian War. It would be natural enough, therefore, to attach great significance to the friendly demonstrations on the part of the Romans towards these peoples. One might well argue from them that the Romans deliberately designed to unite themselves closely with the Hellenic enemies of the Antigonids and that, taking advantage of the prestige and popularity which the services they had rendered to the Hellenes had brought them, they intended to pursue in Greece, as the Ptolemies had done and were still doing, an anti-Macedonian policy.

It must be admitted that such a policy would have been rational, and even that it would have been the logical sequel of their co­duct towards Macedon. Since the latter had inevitably become inimical to them, they might well have sought to weaken her by supporting and inciting against her the enemies with whom she had already to reckon among the Greeks. One cannot help imagining how extreme would have been the peril of the Macedonian State if the Romans in 228 had supported the Aetolians. But in fact the Romans do not seem to have conceived the idea of this preventive policy, and in any event they made no attempt to put it into practice. There is no indication that anything in the nature of negotiations took place between the consular envoys and the Achaean and Aetolian Leagues. It was no more than an exchange of diplomatic courtesies. Similarly, though senatorial envoys presented themselves at Corinth or Athens— the chief centres of Hellenic commerce and as such peculiarly interested in the security of the seas—it was only to notify them formally of the useful task which the Romans had accomplished in Illyria. Corinth was not at that time an independent city but a member of the Achaean League, and therefore the diplomatic mission to her could not have had any direct political purpose. As regards the Athenians, the Roman tradition which reports that they contracted a treaty of friendship with the Romans and even conferred isopoliteia and the right of admission to the Mysteries upon them en bloc, owes its origin to later events and is quite unworthy of consideration. The Romans immediately after their victory over the Illyrians formed no real connection with the Greeks: they did no more than make themselves known to them. They remained indifferent to the struggle of the two principal Greek states with Macedonia; they had, in fact, no Hellenic policy.

The astute and energetic Antigonus Doson was thus left free to settle matters with his enemies unhindered by outside interference. He extricated himself from his difficulties with admirable address. Before the end of 228 when he took the royal title, Macedonia, in spite of the great territorial sacrifices which the war in Greece had cost her, had become sufficiently strong again for the Aetolians to be contemplating uniting themselves with her at the same time as with Sparta against the Achaeans, and for Aratus to conceive the idea of using her against Cleomenes. The sequel is known: scarcely seven years after the insult which Rome had put upon him, Antigonus had acquired in Corinth an incomparable naval base if he should wish once more to build up a navy, had reconstructed the Hellenic League, which ranged seven Greek peoples under his hegemony, had reduced to a state of dependence the Achaeans who had come under his protection, had inspired a wholesome dread in the Aetolians, crushed Cleomenes, the sole adversary who was capable of making head against him, and humiliated the Spartans, who had been forced to become his allies—he had, in short, restored the Macedonian monarchy to the height of political and military importance.

This great change in the posture of events could not but be prejudicial to Roman interests. Nevertheless they allowed it to come about unhindered; they did nothing to embarrass Anti­gonus. It is true that the years which followed their Illyrian expedition were full of dangers and preoccupations. The Romans felt hanging over them the menace of a vast invasion from the Gauls; at the same time they discovered, somewhat late, that a Carthaginian Empire was being built up in Spain a formidable support to Carthage in the event of a new war with Rome; and naturally they were apprehensive of concerted action on the part of these two enemies. They had in these circumstances to negotiate in haste with Hasdrubal, with a view to staying Punic expansion at the line of the Ebro (treaty of 226), at the same time that they were making immense preparations to meet the expected onset of the Gauls. The latter were crushed at Telamon, and the Romans, taking the offensive, proceeded to the conquest of Cisalpine Gaul (p. 813). But this was a long and arduous task; it cost them three years of constant fighting and strenuous effort (224—222). Their armies were fighting on the Po when the king of Macedon made his descent upon the Peloponnese (223). Since they were so fully occupied in the north of Italy, we cannot greatly wonder that they failed to take then in Greece the action which they had omitted to take in 228, and abstained from working against Antigonus by giving, for example, some help to Cleomenes. It is, however, quite possible that they never thought of doing so; that, too little interested in eastern affairs, they did not clearly perceive that Antigonus, once he had Greece at his feet, might become a menace to them in Illyria. It is at all events strange that they did not keep a more watchful eye upon Illyrian affairs and were not more concerned to make sure that the situation did not take a turn to their disadvantage. They were to pay a heavy price for their lack of vigilance.

VI. 

THE REBELLION OF DEMETRIUS OF PHAROS

There was one man upon whom the Romans should have kept watch, and as close a watch as might be,—the adventurer Demetrius of Pharos, whom they had seen transform himself in a few hours from a vassal of Teuta to a servant of their own, and whom they had made, perhaps imprudently, the representative of their interests as against the Illyrian kingdom. It would have been well for this dubious character to have felt the eyes of the Romans constantly fixed upon him, and in truth it would have been easy enough to keep him under surveillance. It would have sufficed to dispatch, from time to time, a few quinqueremes into the Adriatic. The precaution would have been the more desirable be­cause, almost immediately after the events of 228, the power of Demetrius in circumstances of which we have no exact knowledge, whether with or without the goodwill of Rome, had much increased. According to some traditions of doubtful value Teuta had either abdicated or died soon after her disaster and the guardianship of Agron’s son, the child-king Pinnes, had then passed to Demetrius, who had married Triteuta, the mother of Pinnes. What is in any case certain is that Demetrius had rapidly become something quite different from what the Romans had made him. He was far from remaining the mere dynast of Pharos and a few islands and seaboard districts in its vicinity. Ill-informed as we are about the internal situation in the Illyrian kingdom between 228 and 220, we at least see clearly that two personages—who treat with one another, it would seem, upon an equality—were then preponderant: one was Prince Scerdilaidas, whom we already know, the other was Demetrius. Their authority was exercised, we may infer, in different parts of the kingdom.

How would the Pharian use this new access of power? Would he be content to remain the devoted client of the Republic? Placed between Rome and the reviving power of Macedon and in such close contiguity to the latter, would he not incline to her if he thought to find his profit in that direction? These were questions on which the Senate would have done well to make up its mind, with a view to intervening in good time and to good purpose if the protégé of Rome appeared to be assuming too great an independence. But it does not appear that the patres took measures to inform themselves of the dispositions of Demetrius; they do not seem even to have kept up any regular relations with him.

This carelessness had its natural consequences. Antigonus Doson did not follow the Senate’s example in losing sight of Illyrian affairs. Faithful to the traditions of his predecessor Demetrius II, one of his main preoccupations was to resume close contact with Illyria, to bring her once more under the influence of Macedon and so to keep the Romans in check until he should be able to act directly against them. He therefore entered into relations with the Pharian and endeavoured to attach him to himself. We cannot tell what methods he employed, what alluring hopes and promises he held out, but there is no doubt that soon after 225 Demetrius was entirely won over. From 223 onwards he showed himself a very zealous ally of Antigonus; he accompanied him into the Peloponnese at the time of his war with Cleomenes, brought to his support an auxiliary corps of 1600 Illyrians and himself took an active and glorious part in the battle of Sellasia. The attitude of Macedon and Rome to each other, their latent antagonism was such that it was impossible to serve the one without injuring the other. By his open alliance with Antigonus, Demetrius in effect broke with the Romans, indeed became their enemy. That he took so lightly so grave a decision, that he had not a more lively dread of the anger of Rome, is certainly strange. No doubt he counted, should the Romans endeavour to punish him, on the support of the king of Macedon. But so long as the war with Cleomenes lasted, that is to say until the summer of 221, Antigonus could have done nothing to help him. And the war which the Romans were at this time successfully waging against the Cisalpine Gauls did not of course deprive them of the use of their fleet. How was it that Demetrius while campaigning in the Peloponnese had no fear that a squadron sailing from Brundisium or Ancona might operate against Pharos? That is a question which the historian is bound to ask. The answer is to be found, primarily, in what we know of the character of Demetrius, a man bold to excess, as Polybius tells us, and, moreover, lacking in judgment and incapable of reflection—in short a reckless gambler with fortune. But another thing which goes far to explain his conduct is the conduct of the Romans themselves after their defeat of Teuta—the apparent indifference which they then displayed towards events in Illyria, their neglect to make their authority felt. Never seeing them, imagining them to be so paralysed by the anxieties of their struggle with the Gauls and the advance of the Carthaginian power in Spain, so beset by difficulties that they had neither the leisure, the means nor the will to intervene in the east, the Illyrians ceased to fear them, and relapsed into the same false security into which Agron and Teuta had fallen years before.

That seems to have been Demetrius’ state of mind. And in fact for a long time events appeared to justify him. The Romans did not call him to account for his alliance with Antigonus; up to 220 they left him a free hand, and they would perhaps have continued to do so, had he not, emboldened by their long forbearance, rashly thrown down the gauntlet. The death of Anti­gonus, some months after the battle of Sellasia, had deprived him of his powerful protector—an event as fateful for him as the death of Demetrius II had been for Teuta. The new king, Philip, was a mere stripling of seventeen, and his youth and inexperience were at once a cause of alarm to his allies and an encouragement to the enemies of Macedon. Already the most ardent of these, the Aetolians, were showing themselves violently aggressive; their bands had descended upon Messenia and treated it like a conquered country. Thereupon the Achaeans thus contemptuously defied had been forced to cross swords with them, but, defeated at Caphyae, had found themselves reduced to sue for aid to Philip and the Hellenic allies (August 220). Moreover, there could be no doubt that at Sparta the anti-Macedonian and anti­Achaean party, that of Cleomenes, was working to regain the mastery. Thus to all appearance the young king, obliged to defend his allies in the Peloponnese, would soon be plunged into grave difficulties, from which he would have hard work to extricate himself. In these circumstances, how could Demetrius hope to receive any great assistance from him? Everything, it might have seemed, combined to counsel prudence, to dissuade him from irritating the Romans further. Nevertheless he chose this very moment to revolt openly against them. He challenged them by two successive acts of aggression. First, he invaded some of the territories which were under their protectorate, induced or compelled some of the tribes to cast off their allegiance, and took several towns, one of which was the powerful city of Dimale. Then, as if to show that he had no more fear of Rome at sea than on land, he impudently violated the treaty of 228, which had prohibited not only the subjects of Teuta but all the Illyrians from sailing on armed expeditions south of Lissus. Uniting with Scerdilaidas and combining their two flotillas—90 lembi in all— he proceeded to attack Pylos in Messenia (c. August 220). Then, when the attack failed, and Scerdilaidas, having hired out his troops to the Aetolians, had gone with them to ravage Arcadia, he doubled Cape Malea and ranged the Aegean, pillaging or holding to ransom the Cyclades until the Rhodians, the recog­nized protectors of maritime commerce, forced him to put about and fly towards Greece. Thus the Illyrians again began freely to infest Greek waters: Demetrius was treating the work accomplished by the Romans as though it had never been—the days of Agron and Teuta seemed to have returned.

But, like Teuta, the Pharian had tried the patience of the Romans too far. The legions had not crossed the sea in order that, nine years later, barbarian Illyria should rise up before Italy more insolent than ever. Rome had not set her foot on the eastern shore of the Straits to let herself be driven out again so soon, and by a traitor. The Senate awoke—late enough, it is true—to the fact that, as things were going, the whole of Lower Illyria, including the Greek cities on the coast, was in imminent danger of falling into the hands of Demetrius. This must be prevented at all costs. And the more so as before long affairs with Carthage might well take a turn for the worse. In the autumn of 220, the Roman government, at length responding to the appeals of the Saguntines, who were menaced by Hannibal, had decided to take that city under their protection and forbid the Carthaginians to touch it. An embassy was about to start to make known its wishes, first to Hannibal and then to the Carthaginian Senate. If this effected nothing, would it not be necessary to have recourse to arms? And in that event would it be a good thing that the eastern shore of the Straits of Otranto should be in the power of Rome’s enemies? Would it be a good thing that a Punic fleet might find open to it the harbours of Apollonia and Dyrrhachium, where it could lie in safety and keep watch upon Italy? The idea of a possible understanding between Carthage and Demetrius could not fail to present itself to the mind of the patres, an idea the more alarming because, behind the Pharian, they saw the shadow of the Macedonian. A recent happening had been decidedly significant. On his return from the Cyclades, flying before the Rhodians, Demetrius had taken refuge at Cenchreae; and, forthwith, Taurion, Philip’s general in the Peloponnese, had entered into relations with him, had had his lembi transported across the Isthmus, and had used him as an auxiliary against the Aetolians who were returning from Arcadia. Thus friendly relations, open and avowed, between the Macedonian government and Demetrius continued even after the latter had risen against Rome. A little later another fact which could not be ignored by the Romans must have served still further to arouse their suspicions. In the winter of 220-219 Philip went in person to Illyria to confer with Scerdilaidas. This visit, the precise purpose of which was not known till later, must have seemed a very suspicious proceeding. What business had the king of Macedon with the man who was, after Demetrius, the most powerful of the Illyrian chiefs, and who had just joined the latter in infringing the treaty of 228? It was evident that Philip was much more interested in Illyria than was at all desirable.

Such a condition of affairs called for a prompt remedy. It was time and more than time to look after the interests of the Romans oversea, to re-establish the authority of the Republic over the whole of Lower Illyria and to crush Demetrius, thus depriving Macedon of a dangerous tool. By a fortunate chance, in September 220 Philip and the Allies had declared war against the Aetolians. Then the expected revolution had broken out at Sparta; the Cleomenists, the friends of Aetolia, had seized power by a coup de force. Philip, it seemed, was going to have his hands so full that he would not be able to lend assistance to the Pharian. Demetrius, like Teuta, would be left to face the Romans alone.

VII.

THE SECOND ROMAN WAR WITH ILLYRIA

In the campaigning season of 219—exactly ten years after their first expedition—the Romans set out for Illyria again. As in 229, the fleet and army were commanded by the two consuls, L. Aemilius Paullus and M. Livius Salinator, a proof of the interest which was taken in the enterprise. The exact strength of the forces under their orders is not known, but there can be no doubt that they were considerable. L. Aemilius, to whom was entrusted, it would seem, the entire direction of the land operations, must have had under him the normal consular army of about 20,000 foot and 2000 horse. Rash as Demetrius was he did not carry his recklessness so far as to imagine that he could cope with the Romans in the field. Informed of their impending attack he prudently decided to fight them from behind walls. He hoped in this way to play for time; the memory of the check suffered by the Romans at Noutria presumably confirmed him in this hope. If the war was protracted, it was possible that Philip, having disposed of the Aetolians, might intervene to aid the Illyrians; or again that the Romans, should a decisive rupture with Carthage occur, might have to oppose the latter with all their forces and consequently to give up their hold on Illyria. And, in fact, shortly before the departure of the consuls, Hannibal, disregarding the prohibition of which the Senate’s envoys had notified him, had begun the siege of Saguntum (spring 219), an action which might give rise to the gravest complications. If, as is probable, the Pharian received prompt advices regarding the news from Spain, he must have drawn favourable auguries from it. As the centres of his resistance he chose two large towns which he put into a good state of defence: in the south, on the mainland, Dimale; to the north, Pharos, his island capital. Dimale, well fortified, abundantly provisioned, strongly garrisoned, appeared to him impregnable. He himself retired into Pharos, which he rightly judged to be particularly threatened; he had assembled there a small army of 6000 picked men, the flower of his troops.

But if Demetrius was flattering himself with the hope of dragging out hostilities, the Romans desired the exact opposite. Disquieted by Hannibal’s audacity and regarding, henceforth, war with Carthage as almost inevitable, they were in a hurry to be freed from danger in the rear in order to face, if need be, an attack from the west. They must dispose of the Pharian with the utmost dispatch. They acted accordingly. Never was a campaign more speedily carried out. Since Apollonia and Dyrrhachium remained faithful to them, they were able to disembark their troops at one or other of these places, and thence to advance against Dimale. Aemilius attacked it with such energy that he carried it within seven days. He had calculated that the fall of the ‘impregnable town’ would paralyse its neighbours and break the courage of the partisans of Demetrius. He had reckoned rightly. The cities and tribes which, whether willingly or under compulsion—generally the latter—had fallen away from Rome, all hurried to surrender at discretion. He treated them with politic leniency, abstained from punishing them, and contented himself with placing them once more under the authority of the Republic. The situation created in 228 was restored in a moment.

Affairs in the south having been thus brought to order, the consuls sailed for Pharos. Of great natural strength, well- provided with munitions and supplies and held by 6000 stout­hearted defenders, the town was fitted to sustain a protracted siege. But a protracted siege was just what the Romans were determined to avoid; for them it was all important to draw the garrison into the plain and then overwhelm it by weight of numbers. Aemilius succeeded in this by one of the simplest of stratagems. Reaching the island of Pharos by night, he secretly disembarked the greater part of his army in a wild and remote tract of country, where the soldiers could remain concealed in the cover afforded by some woods. The next morning he himself, with only twenty ships, which had the remainder of the troops on board, made for the principal harbour of the island. Demetrius, believing that he had before him the whole strength of his enemies, hastened to the harbour to prevent them from landing, and summoned to his aid, little by little, almost the entire garrison of the town. Then the Roman troops which had disembarked the previous night, issuing from their hiding-place, succeeded in reaching unobserved a steep hill which lay between the harbour and the town, and occupied it in strength. They thus cut off the retreat of the Illyrians. Demetrius saw his danger; facing about, he endeavoured to dislodge the Romans posted on the hill. But before he could overcome their resistance, the others, from the harbour, having completed their disembarkation, fell upon his rear. Repulsed in front, assailed in rear, the Illyrians broke. Some, though doubtless very few, succeeded in reaching the town, the remainder scattered through the island. Demetrius, seeing that the game was lost, had thenceforward no thought but for his own safety. He had, to be prepared for all eventualities, secretly fitted out several lembi which were moored at an out-of-the-way part of the coast. During the night he got on board and put to sea. The town of Pharos, thus left without defenders, fell at the first assault, and Aemilius proceeded to dismantle it.

The news from Spain, where Hannibal was vigorously pro­secuting the siege of Saguntum, did not permit of any long delay on the part of the consuls. The defeat and flight of the Pharian and the taking of his capital marked for them the end of the war. They stayed only to determine the fate of Pharos and the other localities left under the authority of Demetrius in 228. These it seems were put upon the same footing as the towns and districts which ten years before had passed under the protection of Rome. Then, towards the end of the summer, they returned to Italy, taking with them as prisoners some of the household of Demetrius, who had fallen into their hands. Shortly after their return, Saguntum fell. The second expedition to Illyria, more rapidly completed even than the first, had lasted but a few months.

VIII.

PHILIP V AND ROME AFTER THE SECOND ILLYRIAN WAR

Perhaps, indeed, it was too quickly ended. It was no doubt a brilliant success, but it was incomplete. The Romans had not penetrated into Upper Illyria in 219 any more than in 229, and it remained a free field for Macedonian enterprise. They had punished Demetrius, but Scerdilaidas, who had been almost equally guilty, and had rendered himself particularly open to suspicion by his recent relations with Philip, had gone free. Was it not probable that he aimed at becoming a second Demetrius? In any event he was about to show that the defeat of the Pharian had by no means intimidated him. Nor had it intimidated the king of Macedon. After escaping from his island, Demetrius had fled to Acarnania to join Philip, who had just taken Oeniadae from the Aetolians and was proceeding to attack the Dardanians. The king at once welcomed him with open arms and invited him to come to Macedon. He thus declared himself, in defiance of the Romans—who were still in Illyria—the protector of the traitor who had incurred their just anger. And before long it was known that he was making Demetrius his chosen companion, the most influential of his counsellors, thus having constantly about him a passionate enemy of Rome, eager to stir him up against her if indeed he needed it. Furthermore, in the spring of 218, while he was besieging Pale, a city of the Cephallenians, who were allies of the Aetolians, 15 lembi sent from Illyria by Scerdilaidas came to reinforce the Macedonian fleet. That was the result of the intrigues which the king himself had carried on in Illyria in the winter of 220—219. He had then, in contempt of the treaty which forbade the Illyrians to appear south of Lissus, persuaded Scerdilaidas to lend him, at a price, his aid against the Aetolians at sea. What is notable is that the arrangement held good in spite of the new Roman expedition. The treaty of 228, first violated by Demetrius and Scerdilaidas together, was violated afresh by the latter within a year of the chastisement inflicted on Demetrius, and, this second time, it was violated at the instigation of Philip.

Thus the consuls had hardly returned from their campaign when one of the two principal opponents of Rome in Illyria had become the intimate friend of Philip, and the other his active auxiliary. A conjunction of circumstances rendered the king’s openly manifested hostility towards the Romans a matter of especial gravity. About April 218 the patres in reply to the taking of Saguntum, had declared war on Carthage. If during this war Philip should be free to act as he chose, there was little doubt that he would endeavour to make common cause with the Carthaginians, and it was certain that he would take advantage of the difficulties of the Republic to attack Roman Illyria. Fortunately for Rome, he had not at the moment liberty of action; his struggle with Aetolia and Sparta was keeping him fully occupied. It was to the interest of the Romans that they should keep him occupied as long as possible. But were they fully conscious of this evident interest ?

Since the end of 219, the stripling of seventeen, whose youth had provoked the scorn of his enemies, had shown the most brilliant military talents. His crossing of the Peloponnese and conquest of Elis, in the middle of winter, then his lightning ca­paign of 218, the sudden blows which he had delivered almost at the same moment in north and south—the sack of Thermum and the invasion of Laconia—had revealed in him marvellous agility and boldness in strategic movement. At the pace at which he was carrying on the war, there was reason to believe that it would soon be over; as a matter of fact, at the end of the second campaign the Aetolians, losing courage, were disposed to treat. This was a moment at which Roman intervention in their favour would have been highly opportune. It was because he was unopposed at sea that Philip had been able in 218 to pass so swiftly from one end of Greece to the other, everywhere taking his adversaries by surprise. Nevertheless he possessed no more than a dozen warships of the cataphract type. If even a small Roman squadron had appeared in Greek waters, the face of affairs would doubtless have been changed. Without the command of the sea, forced to protect his coasts and those of his allies against descents of the enemy, he would have found it very difficult to prosecute with the same vigour his land war against the Aetolians and Spartans. The naval resources of the Romans and their maritime superiority over Carthage were so great, that they could, it would seem, have easily afforded to detach a squadron to oppose Philip. Later, in 214, under pressure of necessity they sent, it is said, fifty warships to Illyria; it is certain that from 212 onwards they maintained, for a series of years, twenty-five in Greek waters. Is it not probable that these twenty-five warships would have been available in 217? One cannot help being surprised that the Romans made no effort to come to the aid of the Aetolians—as though they had failed to observe that the latter, by the mere fact of being the enemies of Philip, became the natural allies of Rome.

No doubt this inaction may be naturally enough explained by the anxiety aroused in Italy by Hannibal’s unexpected invasion and the first reverses of the Roman arms. It can well be imagined that at so grave a moment all the thought and all the efforts of the Senate were concentrated upon the Carthaginians; that they were averse from the idea of new war, and that they dreaded to weaken themselves by sending any forces, however restricted, into the eastern sea. But it is very possible that the patres persuaded themselves that there were no good grounds for intervention in the affairs of Greece: a defeat of the Aetolians would have no consequences for the Republic, and as Rome had never been the declared enemy of Philip, he would not dream of attacking her. If this was their view, if they believed that they could avoid having Philip as an enemy simply by not making war on him, they were completely mistaken.

Philip’s fixed idea, which, inherited from Antigonus, was fostered, not suggested, by Demetrius, was to deliver Macedon from the dangerous neighbour whose proximity she had endured since 228, to wrest Lower Illyria from the Romans, ousting them from it permanently, and, to this end, to fight and conquer them even, if need be, in Italy itself. Rome, the object alike of his hatred and his admiration, whose power he knew and whose history he had studied, Rome, which he liked to set up as an example (witness his letter to the Larissaeans), was ever present to his thoughts. Should the chance of acting against the Romans present itself, he was resolved to seize it. He had been obliged, to his regret, to involve himself in the Aetolian War, thus condemning himself to be the impotent witness of the disaster of Demetrius, as Antigonus had been of that of Teuta; but by his dazzling and constant successes and the discouragement into which he had thrown his enemies, he had secured to himself an easy withdrawal from it at his chosen moment. This moment was not long in coming. When he received the news of Hannibal’s victorious march, it can be well imagined what hopes awoke in him. While the Romans remained indifferent to events in Greece he followed events in Italy with anxious vigilance. Couriers sent from Macedon to the army in the field kept him informed of them from day to day. If, at the end of June 217, he threw himself with ardour into a new campaign against the Aetolians, this was due, Polybius tells us, to the fact that he was still in ignorance of the disaster at Trasimene. The news reached him about the middle of July at Argos when he was attending the Nemean Games, and his de­cision was immediately taken. He resolved to bring hostilities to an end forthwith, having asked counsel of no one but Deme­trius, whose opinion, he knew, was in agreement with his own, and he made overtures of peace to the Aetolians. His purpose was, the moment that war was ended, to turn all his energies against his powerful enemies at this propitious moment when their fortune was trembling in the balance. Patched up in haste while the impression of the first great victory of the Carthaginians was still fresh, the Peace of Naupactus, which owed its origin to Philip, was a peace directed against the Romans.

IX.

SCERDILAIDAS’ ATTACK ON PHILIP

The Romans had done nothing either to prevent or delay the peace. As in 228 and 221, so now they had made no effort to prolong the Hellenic War by giving support to the adversaries of Macedon and had remained aloof from Greece. But it does seem that at the moment when peace was about to be concluded, they suddenly had an inkling of the danger, and feared the use which Philip might make of his recovered liberty, and for the first time judged it advisable to raise difficulties for him. Thence arose presumably the events which followed in Illyria at the end of the summer of 217.

The Illyrian chiefs were instability itself and changed sides with amazing facility. We have seen this exemplified in the Pharian; Scerdilaidas was no less an adept. Successively allied with the Aetolians (220), and with Philip (218), he broke with the king, alleging that Philip had not paid him sufficiently for his services, and began to engage in piratical enterprises at his expense (c. June 217). Before long he acted still more audaciously on land. Just as Philip was bringing the peace negotiations at Naupactus to a close, his frontiers were violated at two points. In Pelagonia, Scerdilaidas took the town of Pissaeum of which the site is unknown; but it was more especially against western Mace­donia that he directed his attacks. He attempted the conquest of the valley of the Apsus, one of the three principal routes from the east into Lower Illyria. Several towns situated in this valley or in its neighbourhood fell into his hands, among others the important town of Antipatreia. If we reflect that the invaded districts marched with territory under the authority of the Romans, who must have desired to see them taken from Philip; that, more­over, once he had become the king’s enemy it was to Scerdilaidas’ interest to stand well with the Romans, and that it would be a strange thing if he had dared, without their approval, to take possession of the hinterland of their territory; and finally, that a little later (winter of 217—216) he became openly their ally, we can hardly doubt that there was an understanding between them and him, and that they had encouraged him to attack Philip. But at the moment when it took place, the attack of Scerdilaidas could be no more than a vain adventure, for he had no chance of making head against Philip, who, once peace was re-established in Hellas, could use his forces where he would. On his return to Macedonia it did not take the king long to bring him to reason. Not only did Philip retake from him all, and more than all, the territory he had seized along the Apsus, but in addition, he made some useful gains at his expense elsewhere, notably, several places in the neighbourhood of Lake Lychnidus. He thereby secured to himself possession of the upper valley of the Genusus; thus two of the three natural routes which led into Roman terri­tory came under his control, and Macedonia thenceforward marched no longer with the southern half only of this territory but with about two-thirds of its whole length. In a word, the most obvious result of Scerdilaidas’ enterprises was that Philip became a more inconvenient and a nearer neighbour than before. In loosing him on Macedon so late the Romans made a false move. They ought to have set him in motion when the war was at its height in Greece, in order to add a new enemy to those which Philip already had on his hands. But the Romans did not concern them­selves about the Hellenic War; they were loth to interfere in the affairs of Greece, and this reluctance gave Philip his chance to interfere in the affairs of Italy.

X.

CONCLUSION

The history of the Illyrian wars does not, it must be admitted, give us occasion to observe in the Roman authorities either that aggressive ambition or that clearsightedness and consistency in the conduct of foreign affairs, or that love for and skill in political intrigue which have often been attributed to them.

The first of these wars, which has sometimes been regarded as the execution of a premeditated plan of expansion, was, for anyone who considers the facts without prejudice, no more than a piece of maritime police work, which had long been necessary, but had been unduly postponed by the indolence of the Senate. Even then it was only tardily executed under the pressure of sudden and unforeseeable accidents, and was not carried one step farther than was absolutely necessary. And though, after this war, the Romans did establish themselves on the eastern side of the Straits of Otranto, it was primarily, perhaps only, in order to secure that their victory should not have been won in vain.

Moreover their Illyrian enterprise was far from being one of their chief pre-occupations, and it is a mistake to see in it the starting-point of a deliberate and consistent overseas policy directed towards the largest aims. To assume this is to forget that the energetic intervention in 229 was succeeded by nine years of inaction and heedlessness during which Roman interests in Illyria were so imprudently neglected that, in order to avert the dangerous consequences of this negligence, a second war became inevitable.

It has been maintained that the Romans hastened to take advantage of their success in Illyria to develop their political action in Greece. This is very far from the truth. Though, on the occasion of the first war, they did at last make themselves officially known to the Greeks, the rapprochement had no real significance. They had no thought of contracting ‘friendships’ in Greece. And this is a strange thing. For since their Illyrian protectorate must make, and indeed had made, Macedon their enemy—an enemy who might become dangerous—it was highly important for them to take precautions against this danger. To keep Macedon in check they had an instrument ready to their hands. Yet they seem never to have thought of making use of this instrument and of opposing a part of Greece to Macedonia. Alarmed, and with good reason, in 219, they thought they had done enough when they had struck down Demetrius of Pharos. But this easy victory brought no final settlement, and left them exposed to the revenge of the Macedonian.

The establishment of a Roman protectorate over Lower Illyria, an event of an entirely novel character, was bound by its reactions to oblige the Republic to follow new political paths. The logic of events was to compel the opening of a new chapter in the history of its relations with foreign powers. It is noteworthy that the Senate does not seem to have been fully conscious of this, or to have appreciated clearly the gravity of its action in 229—228. It had neither estimated its scope nor calculated its consequences. It was not, as will be seen later, until 212 that it decided to adopt, under the pressure of a danger which it had allowed to grow formidable before its very eyes, the Hellenic and anti-Macedonian policy which circumstances henceforth imposed upon it; it was only then that it sought in Greece auxiliaries against Macedon. This tardiness is a sufficient indication that Rome was not as yet drawn towards the Greek world by any strong impulse of ambition.

Nevertheless, only thirty years after the second Illyrian War, Rome found herself controlling not only Greece proper, but even Hellenic Asia Minor. How this surprising state of affairs came to pass will be related in due course in volume VIII. But an examination of the circumstances of its accomplishment will show that even then the leading motives of the Romans were far from being those of aggression and desire for domination.