Titus had grieved for them deeply; but he was too poor to ransom them, too just to take them by the strong hand from their lawful owners. So the Ætolians ransomed them at five minæ[19] the head; and, as he was on the point of setting sail, brought them down to the wharf in a body, and presented them to him, the gift of liberated Greece. “A gift worthy,” says Plutarch, “of a great man, and a lover of his country.” A gift, say I, which none would have offered but to—what is far greater than a great—a good man. A gift which proves alike the character of the givers, and the receiver. An honor, as few gifts are, to both. I care not that in Flamininus’ triumph those twelve hundred ransomed Romans, of their own free will, walked with shaven heads and white caps, as manumitted slaves, and that the people of Rome had no eyes for the hostage prince, or the barbaric gold, or the strange Macedonian armor—had no eyes for Flamininus himself, but only for the twelve hundred manumitted Romans. But I do care that the Ætolians knew, from their knowledge of the man, that there was one invaluable gift which it would gladden the heart of the incorruptible of men to receive at their hands, richer than untold gold, inestimable jewels, the priceless liberty of freeborn Romans. It does not belong to the military career of Flamininus, but it does to the history of his life, that in after days he was sent by the Senate ambassador to Prusias, king of Bithynia, for the purpose of compelling the surrender into their hands of the aged, exiled, down fallen Hannibal; and that, rather than fall into those pitiless hands, which never refrained the scourge and axe from the noblest foeman, the old man had recourse to the “Cannarum vindex et tanti sanguinis ultor, Annulus.”[20] Nor do I choose to pass it over in silence. Since it is to be remembered that the highest pride of a Roman was to do his duty; and his duty was whatever his country ordered. So that, however odious the task imposed, and we know too much of this man’s character not to be sure that the embassy to Prusias was odious, a consular of Rome had no choice but to obey Rome’s bidding. There was, moreover, much in the pertinacity with which Hannibal journeyed from barbarous court to barbarous court, in the hope of kindling a fire-brand for Rome’s conflagration, even after his own country was prostrate beyond the chance of resurrection, to palliate if not justify the rancor of Romans. The inextinguishable hater has no right to complain if the hatred against himself be inextinguishable. The last office held by Flamininus, was the censorship—the highest, noblest, purest dignity in the gift of the state; and never—at least in those days—bestowed on any but the noble and the pure. It was the Corinthian capital to the career of the honored and honorable Roman magistrate, and such was Titus Quinctius Flamininus. After this he passes from our sight, and is heard of no more in history.