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Zenobia

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'These are not the counsels of fear--of a tame and cowardly spirit. I
may rebut that imputation without vanity, by referring to the siege of
Ctesiphon and the reduction of Egypt. The generous Zabdas will do me
justice--nay, you all will--why am I apprehensive? Bear with me a moment
more'--'Say on, say on, noble Otho,' said the Queen, and many other voices
at the same time.--'The great Longinus has said,' continued he, 'that it
is needful that there be one empire at least in the world to stand between
Rome and universal dominion. I believe it. And that Palmyra may be, or
continue to be, that kingdom, I counsel peace--I counsel delay--temporary
concession--negotiation--any thing but war. A Roman emperor lives not
forever; and let us once ward off the jealousy of Aurelian, by yielding to
some of his demands, and resigning pretensions which are nothing in
reality, but exist as names and shadows only, and long years of peace and
prosperity may again arise, when our now infant kingdom may shoot up into
the strong bone and muscle of a more vigorous manhood, and with reason
assert rights, which now it seems but madness, essential madness, to do.
Listen, great Queen! to the counsels of a time-worn soldier, whose whole
soul is bound up in most true-hearted devotion to your greatness and
glory. I quarrel not with your ambition, or your love of warlike fame. I
would only direct them to fields where they may pluck fresh laurels, and
divert them from those where waits--pardon me, my royal
mistress!--inevitable shame.'

Soon as Otho had given a single sign of pause, Zabdas, like a war-horse,
sprang upon his feet. 'Were not the words,' said he, 'which we have just
heard, the words of Otho, I would cry out treason! treason!--But Otho--is
Otho. What nation would ever, O Queen, outgrow its infancy, were a policy
like this, now descanted upon, to guide its counsels? The general who
risks nothing can win nothing. And the nation that should wait till
absolutely sure of victory before unsheathing the sword would never draw
it, or only in some poor skirmish, where victory would be as disgraceful
as defeat. Besides, although such a nation were to rise by such victories,
if victories those may be called won by a thousand over an hundred, who
would not blush to own himself a citizen of it? Greatness lies not in
pounds weight of flesh, but in skill, courage, warlike genius, energy, and
an indomitable will. A great heart will scatter a multitude. The love of
freedom, in a few brave spirits, overthrows kingdoms. It was not, if I
rightly remember, numbers by which the Persian hosts were beaten upon the
plains of Greece. It was there something like three hundred to a
million--the million weighed more than the three hundred, yet the three
hundred were the heavier. The arm of one Spartan fell like a tempest upon
the degenerate Persians, crushing its thousands at a single sweep. It was
a great heart and a trusting spirit that made it weigh so against mere
human flesh. Are we to wait till Palmyra be as multitudinous as Rome, ere
we risk a battle? Perhaps Rome will grow as fast as Palmyra--and how long
must we then wait? I care not, though Aurelian bring half Europe at his
back, there sits a throned spirit--whether of earth or not, I cannot tell,
but as I think more than half divine--who will drive him back shattered
and bleeding, the jest and ridicule of the observing world. She who, by
the force of pure intellect, has out of this speck in the desert made a
large empire, who has humbled Persia, and entered her capital in triumph,
has defeated three Roman armies, and wrested more provinces than time will
allow me to number, from the firm grasp of the self-styled mistress of the
world, this more than Semiramis is to be daunted forsooth, because a Roman
soldier of fortune sends his hirelings here and asks of her the surrender
of three fourths of her kingdom--she is to kneel and cry him mercy--and
humbly lay at his royal feet the laurels won by so much precious blood and
treasure. May the sands of the desert bury Palmyra and her Queen, sooner
than one humiliating word shall pass those lips, or one act of concession
blast a fame to this hour spotless as the snows of Ararat, and bright as
the Persian God. Shame upon the man who, after the lessons of the past,
wants faith in his sovereign. Great Queen, believe me, the nation is with
you. Palmyra, as one man, will pour out treasure to the last and least
dust of gold, and blood to the last drop, that you may still sit secure
upon that throne, and stretch your sceptre over a yet wider and
undishonored empire.'

'Let not the Queen,' resumed Otho, as Zabdas ceased, 'let not the Queen
doubt my faith'--'I doubt it not, good Otho,' she replied; 'heed not the
sharp words of the impetuous Zabdas; in his zeal for the art he only loves
and for his Queen, he has thrust his lance hither and thither at all
adventures, but as in the sports of the field he means no injury.'

'Zabdas intends no wrong, I am well assured,' rejoined Otho. 'I would only
add a word, to show upon what I ground my doubt of good success, should
Aurelian muster all his strength. It cannot be thought that I have lost my
faith in the military genius and prowess of either Zenobia or Zabdas, with
both of whom, side by side, I have fought so many times, and by their
conduct mounted up to victory. Neither do I doubt the courage of our
native Palmyrenes, nor their devotion to the interests of their country.
They will war to the death. But should a second army be to be raised,
should the chosen troops of the city and its neighboring territories be
once cut off, upon whom are we then to rely? Where are the auxiliaries
whom we can trust? What reliance can be placed upon Arabs, the Armenians,
the Saracens, the Cappadocians, the Syrians? Is our empire so old, and so
well moulded into one mass, so single in interest and affection, that
these scattered tribes--formerly hostile to each other and to us, many,
most of them at different times subject to Rome--may be depended upon as
our own people? Have we legions already drawn from their numbers,
disciplined, and accustomed to our modes of warfare? Truly, this war with
Rome seems to be approached much as if it were but some passing show of
arms, some holiday pastime. But the gods grant that none of my forebodings
turn true!'

The words of the sober-minded and honest Otho found no echo in the bosoms
of those who heard him, and he ceased, when I believe he would willingly
have gone on to a closer and sharper opposition. Others followed him, each
one present eagerly pressing forward to utter, were it but one word, to
show his loyalty, and his zeal in the service of his Queen.

When all, or nearly all, had in this manner manifested their attachment
and declared their opinions, the Queen turned to me, saying, that as I had
there heard so much of what I could not approve, and perhaps had power to
disprove, it was right that if I wished I should also express my opinions;
nay, it would be esteemed as a favor by herself, and she was sure also by
all her friends, if I would freely impart any knowledge I might possess,
by which any error might be corrected, or false impressions dissipated.

Being thus invited, I not unwillingly entered into the questions that had
been agitated, and with earnestness and sincerity, and with all the power
I could bring to bear, labored to expose the imminent hazard to the very
existence of the kingdom, which was run by this rash encounter with the
countless hosts of Rome. I revealed a true picture of the resources of our
country, and sketched, as I could so well do in their proper colors, the
character of the fierce Aurelian; and, in a word, did all that a Roman
could do for Rome, and a Palmyrene for Palmyra. I remembered what Otho had
told me of the courtesy and willingness with which any company of genuine
Palmyrenes would listen to me, and shrank not from any statement however
harsh and grating to their national vanity, but which seemed to me to
convey the wholesome truth. It appeared to me indeed too late to work any
change in minds so pledged already to an adopted opinion, but I resolved
to leave nothing untried to turn them from a bent that must end in
irretrievable ruin. I was encouraged too, and urged on to more than a
common effort, by the imploring countenance of the Princess Julia, who, in
that expressive manner, begged me to use all frankness and boldness in my
communications. Otho had, it is true, with great power and unshrinking
fidelity, advocated the cause of peace, and laid bare the true motives to
the war, but still it appeared to me that much might be said by a Roman
and a stranger, that would carry with it more weight than as coming from a
citizen, however loved and respected. To you, my friend, I need enter into
no detail; you will easily imagine what it was, as a Roman, I should urge
upon such an occasion, and in such a presence. I shall always remember
with satisfaction, I am sure, whatever the issue of this difference may
be, my efforts to preserve peace between two nations, whose best interests
must be advanced not by enmity and war, but by the closest alliance of
friendly intercourse.

I was heard with attention and respect, and afterwards with sincerity
thanked, not only by the opposers of the present measures, but by their
advocates also; they were glad to know the worst that could be said
against the cause they had espoused. A brief silence ensued as I ended,
and the eyes of all were instinctively turned upon Zenobia, the ruling
spirit--the maker of the kingdom--its soul--its head--and bright,
peerless crown.

'It was my wish,' said Zenobia, answering the general expectation,
'before the final decision of the senate and the council, to receive from
my friends, in social confidence, a full expression of their feelings,
their opinions, their hopes, and their fears, concerning the present
posture of our affairs. My wish has been gratified, and I truly thank you
all, and not least those my friends--as a philosopher, should I not term
them my best friends?--who, with a generous trust in me and in you who are
on my part, have not shrunk from the duty, always a hard one, of exposing
the errors and the faults of those they love. After such exposure--and
which at more length and with more specification will, I trust, be
repeated in the hearing of the senate and the council--it cannot be said
that I blindly rushed upon danger and ruin, if these await us, or weakly
blundered upon a wider renown, if that, as I doubt not, is to be the event
of the impending contest. I would neither gain nor lose, but as the effect
of a wise calculation and a careful choice of means. Withhold not now your
confidence, which before you have never refused me. Believe that now, as
ever before, I discern with a clear eye the path which is to conduct us to
a yet higher pitch of glory. I have long anticipated the emergency that
has arisen. I was not so ignorant of the history and character of the
Roman people, as to suppose that they would suffer an empire like this,
founded and governed by a woman, to divide long with them the homage of
the world. With the death of the ignoble son of Valerian, I believed would
close our undisputed reign over most of these eastern provinces. Had
Claudius lived, good as he was, he was too Roman in his mould not to have
done what Aurelian now attempts. I prepared then for the crisis which has
come not till now. I am ready now. My armies are in complete discipline;
the city itself so fortified with every art and muniment of war as safely
to defy any power that any nation may array before its walls. But were
this not so; did the embassy of Aurelian take us by surprise and
unprepared; should a people that respects itself, and would win or keep
the good opinion of mankind, tamely submit to requisitions like these? Are
we to dismember our country at the behest of a stranger, of a foreigner,
and a Roman? Do you feel that without a struggle first for freedom and
independence, you could sink down into a mean tributary of all-ingulfing
Rome, and lose the name of Palmyrene? I see by the most expressive of all
language, that you would rather die. Happy are you, my friends, that this
is not your case; you are ready for the enemy; you shall not lose your
name or your renown; and you shall not die. I and my brave soldiers will
at a distance breast the coming storm; your ears shall not so much as hear
its thunder; and at the worst, by the sacrifice of our lives, your and
your country's life shall be preserved.

'I am advised to avert this evil by negotiation, by delay. Does any one
believe that delay on our part will change the time-engendered character
of Rome? If I cease to oppose, will Rome cease to be ambitious? Will fair
words turn aside the fierce spirit of Aurelian from his settled purpose?
Will he--so truly painted by the Roman Piso--who looks to build an undying
name, by bringing back the empire to the bounds that compassed it under
the great Antonines, let slip the glory for a few cities now in hand, and
others promised? or for the purple robe humbly pulled from our young
Cæsars' shoulders? Believe it not. The storm that threatens might he so
warded off perhaps for a day--a month--a year--a reign--but after that it
would come, and, in all reasonable calculation, with tenfold fury. I would
rather meet the danger at its first menace, and thereby keep our good
name,--which otherwise should we not sully or lose?--and find it less too
than a few years more would make it.

'I am charged with pride and ambition. The charge is true, and I glory in
its truth. Who ever achieved any thing great in letters, arts, or arms,
who was not ambitious? Cæsar was not more ambitious than Cicero. It was
but in another way. All greatness is born of ambition. Let the ambition be
a noble one, and who shall blame it? I confess I did once aspire to be
Queen not only of Palmyra, but of the East. That I am. I now aspire to
remain so. Is it not an honorable ambition? Does it not become a
descendant of the Ptolemys and of Cleopatra? I am applauded by you all for
what I have already done. You would not it should have been less. But why
pause here? Is so much ambition praiseworthy, and more criminal? Is it
fixed in nature that the limits of this empire should be Egypt on the one
hand, the Hellespont and the Euxine on the other? Were not Suez and
Armenia more natural limits? Or hath empire no natural limit, but is broad
as the genius that can devise, and the power that can win? Rome has the
West. Let Palmyra possess the East Not that nature prescribes this and no
more. The gods prospering, and I swear not that the Mediterranean shall
hem me in upon the West, or Persia on the East. Longinus is right--I would
that the world were mine. I feel within the will and the power to bless
it, were it so.

'Are not my people happy? I look upon the past and the present, upon my
nearer and remoter subjects, and ask nor fear the answer--whom have I
wronged? what province have I oppressed? what city pillaged? what region
drained with taxes? whose life have I unjustly taken, or estates coveted
or robbed? whose honor have I wantonly assailed? whose rights, though of
the weakest and poorest, have I trenched upon? I dwell where I would ever
dwell, in the hearts of my people. It is writ in your faces, that I reign
not more over you than within you. The foundation of my throne is not more
power than love. Suppose now, my ambition add another province to our
realm? Is it an evil? The kingdoms already bound to us by the joint acts
of ourself and the late royal Odenatus, we found discordant and at war.
They are now united and at peace. One harmonious whole has grown out of
hostile and sundered parts. At my hands they receive a common justice and
equal benefits. The channels of their commerce have I opened, and dug them
deep and sure. Prosperity and plenty are in all their borders. The streets
of our capital bear testimony to the distant and various industry which
here seeks its market. This is no vain boasting--receive it not so, good
friends: it is but truth. He who traduces himself, sins with him who
traduces another. He who is unjust to himself, or less than just, breaks a
law as well as he who hurts his neighbor. I tell you what I am and what I
have done, that your trust for the future may not rest upon ignorant
grounds. If I am more than just to myself, rebuke me. If I have
overstepped the modesty that became me, I am open to your censure, and
will bear it. But I have spoken, that you may know your Queen--not only by
her acts, but by her admitted principles. I tell you then that I am
ambitious--that I crave dominion, and while I live will reign. Sprung from
a line of kings, a throne is my natural seat. I love it. But I strive
too--you can bear me witness that I do--that it shall be, while I sit upon
it, an honored, unpolluted seat. If I can, I will hang a yet brighter
glory round it.

'And as to pride--what if my woman's nature, that nature the gods
implanted and I have received from royal ancestors, loves the pomp and
show of power? What if the pride which dwells in all high natures
gratifies itself in me by planting its feet upon an Indian princess, as
its only fitting footstool, who'--Suddenly at this point of her discourse
the Queen broke off, and advancing from where she stood--she had risen
from her seat in the ardor of her address--greeted with native courtesy
and grace the Roman ambassadors, who, in company with others of their
train, we now saw to enter the apartments.

The company, upon this, again resolved itself into many separate groups,
and returned to such private topics as each one liked, Zenobia devoting
herself to Varro and Petronius.

By and by, at the striking up of music, we moved to another apartment, the
banqueting hall--the same Egyptian room in which I had before partaken
the hospitalities of the Eastern Queen, where tables, set out with the
most lavish magnificence, and bending beneath the most tempting burdens,
awaited our approach. A flood of light was poured from the ceiling, and
reflected back again from the jewelled wine cups and embossed gold of
Demetrius.

But I cannot pretend to describe this sumptuous feast. I will only say,
that the Queen, seated between the Roman ambassadors, gave the evening to
them. And what with the frequent cups in which she pledged them, and the
fascinating charms of her beauty and her conversation, I fear there was
but little of the Roman in them when they rose to depart. In this more
peaceful way has Zenobia won provinces and cities, as well as at the head
of her armies. Farewell.




Letter XI.



From my late letters to Portia, and which without doubt you have before
this read, you have learned with certainty, what I am sure the eye of
Lucilia must before have clearly discerned, my love of the Princess Julia.
I have there related all that it can import my friends to know. The
greatest event of my life--the issues of which, whether they are to crown
me with a felicity the gods might envy, or plunge me in afflictions divine
compassions could not assuage--I have there described with that careful
concern for your fullest information, touching all that befalls me, by
which you will bear me testimony I have been actuated during my residence
in this Eastern capital.

You will not be surprised to learn that my passion is opposed by the
Queen. It was in the same apartment of the palace where I first saw this
wonderful woman, that at a late interview with her, at her command, I was
enjoined to think no more of an alliance with her house.

I was, as you may easily imagine, not a little disturbed in anticipation
of an interview with such a person, on such an occasion. Fausta assured me
that I might rely upon the Queen's generosity, and could look to receive
only the most courteous reception, whatever her decision might be on my
suit. 'I fear greatly for your success,' said she, 'but pray the gods both
for your and the Princess' sake my fears may not come true. Julia lives in
her affections--she cannot like me become part of the world abroad, and
doubly live in its various action. She loves Zenobia indeed with the
truest affection, but she has given her heart to you, Lucius, and
disappointment here would feed upon her very life. She ought not to be
denied. She cannot bear it. Yet Zenobia, devoured by ambition, and holding
so little sympathy with human hearts in their mutual loves--all the world
to them--may deny her, nor ever half conceive the misery she will inflict
upon a being she loves and even reveres. Press your cause, Lucius, with a
manly boldness. The gods succeed you.'

The Queen received me graciously, but with a fixed and almost severe
countenance. She expressed herself obliged to me for the early knowledge
of what otherwise she had not so much as suspected. 'Living myself,' said
she 'far above any dependence upon love for my happiness, I am not prone
to see the affection in others. The love which fastens upon objects
because they are worthy, I can understand and honor. But that mad and
blind passion, which loves only because it will love, which can render no
reason for its existence but a hot and capricious fancy, I have had no
experience of in my own heart, and where I see it I have no feeling for it
but one of disapprobation or contempt. If it be but the beauty of Julia
which has bewitched thy fancy, Roman, amuse thyself with a brief tour of
pleasure, either to Antioch or Alexandria, and other objects will greet
thee, and soon drive her from thy thoughts.'

I assured her that my regard was not of this kind; that indeed her
transcendent beauty had first won me, but that other qualities retained
me; that the bond which held me was as much friendship as love, and I
might say as much reverence as friendship.

'The greater the pity, Roman,' rejoined the Queen in a voice somewhat
stern, but yet melancholy, 'the greater the pity. In truth, I had hoped
thine was but the love of the painted image, and might without pain be
transferred to another, painted but as well. Yet, had I reflected upon the
sentiments I have heard from thee, I might have judged thee nobler. But,
Piso, this must not be. Were I to look only to myself and Julia, I might
well be pleased with a tie that bound us to one whom I have so weighty
reasons to respect and honor. But to do this I have no right. I am not my
own, but the State's. Julia is no daughter of mine, but the property of
Palmyra. Marriage is one of the chief bonds of nations, as of families.
Were it not a crime in me, with selfish regard to my own or my daughter's
pleasure, to bestow her upon a private citizen of whatever worth, when,
espousing her to some foreign prince, a province or a kingdom may be won
or saved?'

'But,' I ventured to remark, 'are the hearts of princes and princesses to
be bartered away for power or territory? are the affections to be bought
and sold? Is the question of happiness to be no question in their case?'

'By no means the principal one. It is not necessarily a sacrifice, but if
necessary the sacrifice must be made. The world envies the lot of those
who sit upon thrones. But the seat is not without its thorns. It seems all
summer with them. But upon whom burst more storms, or charged with redder
fury? They seem to the unreflecting mind to be the only
independent--while they are the slaves of all. The prosperous citizen may
link himself and his children when and with whom he likes, and none may
gainsay him. He has but to look to himself and his merest whim. The royal
family must go and ask his leave. My children are more his than mine. And
if it be his pleasure and preference that my daughters ally themselves to
an Indian or a Roman prince, his will is done, not mine--his is the gain,
mine the loss. And were it just that, when by joining hands though not
hearts two nations could be knit together in amity, the royal house should
refuse the sacrifice? Roman, I live for Palmyra. I have asked of the gods
my children, not for my own pleasure, but for Palmyra's sake. I should
give the lie to my whole life, to every sentiment I have harbored since
that day I gave myself to the royal Odenatus, were I now to bestow upon a
private citizen her, through whom we have so long looked to ally ourselves
by a new and stronger bond to some neighboring kingdom. Julia, Roman--you
have seen her, you know her, you can appreciate her more than human
qualities--Julia is the destined bride of Hormisdas. By her, on Sapor's
death, do we hope to bind together by chains never to be afterward
sundered, Persia and Palmyra, who, then leagued by interest and affection,
may as one kingdom stand up with the more hope against the overwhelming
force of Rome. Were I justified to forego this advantage for any private
reason? Can you doubt, were I not constrained to act otherwise, whether I
should prefer some nobleman of Palmyra, or thee, that so I might ever
dwell within the charmed influence of one, from whom to part will be like
the pang of death?'

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