A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P R S T U V W X Z

Zenobia

W >> William Ware >> Zenobia




'We shall fall behind,' said Calpurnius, 'I warrant you, in no quality of
affection or zeal in the great task.'

'Fausta,' continued Gracchus, 'has as yet no heart but for the dead and
the lost. But, Lucius, when you shall have been not long in Rome, you will
hear that she lives then but among the living, and runs before me and
Calpurnius in every labor that promises advantage to Palmyra.'

'It may be so,' replied Fausta, 'but I have no faith that it will. We have
witnessed the death of our country; we have attended the funeral
obsequies. I have no belief in any rising again from the dead.'

'Give not way, my child,' said Gracchus, 'to grief and despair. These are
among the worst enemies of man. They are the true doubters and deniers of
the gods and their providence, who want a spirit of trust and hope. Hope
and confidence are the best religion, and the truest worship. I who do not
believe in the existence of the gods am therefore to be commended for my
religion more than many of the staunchest defenders of Pagan, Christian,
or Jewish superstitions, who too often, it seems to me, feel and act as if
the world were abandoned of all divine care, and its affairs and events
the sport of a blind chance. What is best for man and the condition of the
world, must be most agreeable to the gods--to the creator and possessor
of the world--be they one or many. Can we doubt which is best for the
remaining inhabitants of Palmyra, and the provinces around which are
dependent upon her trade--to leave her in her ruin finally and utterly to
perish, or apply every energy to her restoration? Is it better that the
sands of the desert should within a few years heap themselves over these
remaining walls and dwellings, or that we who survive should cleanse, and
repair, and rebuild, in the confident hope, before we in our turn are
called to disappear, to behold our beloved city again thronged with its
thousands of busy and laborious inhabitants? Carthage is again populous as
in the days of Hamilcar. You, Fausta, may live to see Palmyra what it was
in the days of Zenobia.'

'The gods grant it may be so!' exclaimed Fausta; and a bright smile at the
vision her father had raised up before her illuminated her features. She
looked for a moment as if the reality had been suddenly revealed to her,
and had stood forth in all its glory.

'I do not despair,' continued Gracchus, 'of the Romans themselves doing
something toward the restoration of that which they have wantonly and
foolishly destroyed.'

'But they cannot give life to the dead, and therefore it is but little
that they can do at best,' said Fausta. 'They may indeed rebuild the
temple of the Sun, but they cannot give us back the godlike form of
Longinus, and kindle within it that intellect that shed light over the
world; they may raise again the walls of the citizen's humble dwelling,
but they cannot re-animate the bodies of the slaughtered multitudes, and
call them out from their trenches to people again the silent streets.'

'They cannot indeed,' rejoined Gracchus; 'they cannot do every thing--they
may not do any thing. But I think they will, and that the Emperor himself,
when reason returns, will himself set the example. And from you, Lucius,
when once more in Rome, shall I look for substantial aid in disposing
favorably the mind both of Aurelian and the Senate.'

'I can never be more happily employed,' I replied, 'than in serving either
you or Palmyra. You will have a powerful advocate also in Zenobia.'

'Yes,' said Gracchus, 'if her life be spared, which must for some time be
still quite uncertain. After gracing the triumph of Aurelian, she, like
Longinus, may be offered as a new largess to the still hungering legions.'

'Nay, there I think, Gracchus, you do Aurelian hardly justice. Although he
has bound himself by no oath, yet virtually is he sworn to spare
Zenobia--and his least word is true as his sword.'

Thus have we passed the last days and hours of my residence here. I should
in vain attempt, my Curtius, to tell you how strongly I am bound to this
place--to this kingdom and city, and above all to those who survive this
destruction. No Palmyrene can lament with more sincerity than I the
whirlwind of desolation that has passed over them, obliterating almost
their place and name--nor from any one do there ascend more fervent
prayers that prosperity may yet return, and these wide-spread ruins again
rise and glow in their ancient beauty. Rome has by former acts of
unparalleled barbarism covered her name with reproach, but by none has
she so drenched it in guilt as by this wanton annihilation--for so do I
regard it--of one of the fairest cities and kingdoms of the earth. The day
of Aurelian's triumph may be a day of triumph to him, but to Rome it will
be a day of never forgotten infamy.




Letter XVIII.

From Piso to Fausta



I trust that you have safely received the letter which, as we entered the
Tiber, I was fortunate enough to place on board a vessel bound directly
to Berytus. In that I have told you of my journey and voyage, and have
said many other things of more consequence still, both to you, Gracchus,
and myself.

I now write to you from my own dwelling upon the Coelian, where I have
been these many days that have intervened since the date of my former
letter. If you have waited impatiently to hear from me again, I hope
that I shall now atone for what may seem a too long delay, by telling
you of those concerning whom you wish chiefly to hear and know--Zenobia
and Julia.

But first let me say that I have found Portia in health, and as happy as
she could be after her bitter disappointment in Calpurnius. This has
proved a misfortune, less only than the loss of our father himself. That a
Piso should live, and be other than a Roman; that he should live and bear
arms against his country--this has been to her one of those
inexplicable mysteries in the providence of the gods that has tasked her
piety to the utmost. In vain has she scrutinized her life to discover what
fault has drawn down upon her and her house this heavy retribution. Yet
her grief is lightened by what I have told her of the conduct of
Calpurnius at Antioch and Emesa. At such times, when I have related the
events of those great days, and the part which my brother took, the pride
of the Roman has yielded to that of the mother, and she has not been able
to conceal her satisfaction. 'Ah,' she would say, 'my brave boy! That was
like him! I warrant Zabdas himself was not greater! What might he not be,
were he but in Rome!'

Portia is never weary with inquiring into every thing relating to yourself
and Gracchus. My letters, many and minute as they have been, so far from
satisfying her, serve only as themes for new and endless conversations, in
which, as well as I am able, I set before her my whole life while in
Palmyra, and every event, from the conversation at the table or in the
porticos, to the fall of the city and the death of Longinus. So great is
her desire to know all concerning the 'hero Fausta,' and so unsatisfying
is the all that I can say, that I shall not wonder if, after the ceremony
of the triumph, she should herself propose a journey to Palmyra, to see
you once more with her own eyes, and once more fold you in her arms. You
will rejoice to be told that she bewails, even with tears, the ruin of the
city, and the cruel massacre of its inhabitants. She condemns the Emperor
in language as strong as you or I should use. The slaughter of Sandarion
and his troops she will by no means allow to be a sufficient justification
of the act. And of her opinion are all the chief citizens of Rome.

I have found Curtius and Lucilia also in health. They are at their villa
upon the Tiber. The first to greet me there were Laco and Coelia. Their
gratitude was affecting and oppressive. Indeed there is no duty so hard as
to receive with grace the thanks of those whom you have obliged. Curtius
is for once satisfied that I have performed with fidelity the part of a
correspondent. He even wonders at my diligence. The advantage is, I
believe for the first time, fairly on my side; though you can yourself
bear testimony, having heard all his epistles, how many he wrote, and with
what vividness and exactness he made Rome to pass before us. I think he
will not be prevented from writing to you by anything I can say. He drops
in every day, Lucilia sometimes with him, and never leaves us till he has
exhausted his prepared questions concerning you, and the great events
which have taken place--there remaining innumerable points to a man of his
exact turn of mind, about which he must insist upon fuller and more
careful information. I think he will draw up a history of the war. I hope
he will--no one could do it better.

Aurelian, you will have heard, upon leaving Palmyra, instead of continuing
on the route upon which he set out toward Emesa and Antioch, turned aside
to Egypt, in order to put down by one of his sudden movements the Egyptian
merchant Firmus, who, with a genius for war greater than for traffic, had
placed himself at the head of the people, and proclaimed their
independence of Rome. As the friend and ally of Zenobia--although he could
render her during the siege no assistance--I must pity his misfortunes and
his end. News has just reached us that his armies have been defeated, he
himself taken and put to death, and his new-made kingdom reduced again to
the condition of a Roman province. We now every hour look to hear of the
arrival of the Emperor and his armies.

Although there has been observed some secrecy concerning the progress and
places of residence of Zenobia, yet we learn with a good degree of
certainty that she is now at Brundusium, awaiting the further orders of
Aurelian, having gone over-land from Byzantium to Apollonia, and there
crossing the Adriatic. I have not been much disturbed by the reports which
have prevailed, because I thought I knew too much of the Queen to think
them well grounded. Yet I confess I have suffered somewhat when, upon
resorting to the capitol or the baths, I have found the principal topic to
be the death of Zenobia--according to some, of grief, on her way from
Antioch to Byzantium--or, as others had it, of hunger, she having
resolutely refused all nourishment. I have given no credit to the rumor,
yet as all stories of this kind are a mixture of truth and error, so in
this case I can conceive easily that it has some foundation in reality,
and I am led to believe from it that the sufferings of the Queen have been
great. How indeed could they be otherwise! A feebler spirit than
Zenobia's, and a feebler frame would necessarily have been destroyed. With
what impatience do I await the hour that shall see her in Rome! I am
happily already relieved of all anxiety as to her treatment by
Aurelian--no fear need be entertained for her safety. Desirous as far as
may be to atone for the rash severity of his orders in Syria, he will
distinguish with every possible mark of honor the Queen, her family, and
such other of the inhabitants of Palmyra as have been reserved to grace
his triumph.

For this august ceremony the preparations are already making. It is the
sole topic of conversation, and the single object toward which seem to be
bent the whole genius and industry of the capital. It is intended to
surpass in magnificence all that has been done by former Emperors or
Generals. The materials for it are collecting from every part of the
empire, and the remotest regions of Asia and Africa. Every day there
arrive cargoes either of wild beasts or of prisoners, destined to the
amphitheatre; illustrious captives also from Asia, Germany and Gaul, among
whom are Tetricus and his son. The Tiber is crowded with vessels bringing
in the treasures drawn from Palmyra--her silver and gold--her statuary and
works of art--and every object of curiosity and taste that was susceptible
of transportation across the desert and the ocean.

It is now certain that the Queen has advanced as far as Tusculum, where
with Julia, Livia, Faustula and Vabalathus, they will remain--at a villa
of Aurelian's it is said--till the day of the triumph. Separation seems
the more painful as they approach nearer. Although knowing that they would
be scrupulously prohibited from all intercourse with any beyond the
precincts of the villa itself, I have not been restrained from going again
and again to Tusculum, and passing through it and around it in the hope to
obtain were it but a distant glimpse of persons to whom I am bound more
closely than to any others on earth. But it has been all in vain. I shall
not see them till I behold them a part of the triumphal procession of
their conqueror.

* * * * *

Aurelian has arrived--the long expected day has come--and is gone. His
triumph has been celebrated, and with a magnificence and a pomp greater
than the traditionary glories of those of Pompey, Trajan, Titus, or even
the secular games of Philip.

I have seen Zenobia!

The sun of Italy never poured a flood of more golden light upon the great
capital and its surrounding plains than on the day of Aurelian's triumph.
The airs of Palmyra were never more soft. The whole city was early abroad,
and, added to our own overgrown population, there were the inhabitants of
all the neighboring towns and cities, and strangers from all parts of the
empire, so that it was with difficulty and labor only, and no little
danger too, that the spectacle could be seen. I obtained a position
opposite the capitol, from which I could observe the whole of this proud
display of the power and greatness of Rome.

A long train of elephants opened the show, their huge sides and limbs
hung with cloth of gold and scarlet, some having upon their backs
military towers or other fanciful structures, which were filled with the
natives of Asia or Africa, all arrayed in the richest costumes of their
countries. These were followed by wild animals, and those remarkable for
their beauty, from every part of the world, either led, as in the case of
lions, tigers, leopards, by those who from long management of them
possessed the same power over them as the groom over his horse, or else
drawn along upon low platforms, upon which they were made to perform a
thousand antic tricks for the amusement of the gaping and wondering
crowds. Then came not many fewer than two thousand gladiators in pairs,
all arranged in such a manner as to display to the greatest advantage
their well-knit joints, and projecting and swollen muscles. Of these a
great number have already perished on the arena of the Flavian, and in
the sea fights in Domitian's theatre. Next, upon gilded wagons, and so
arranged as to produce the most dazzling effect, came the spoils of the
wars of Aurelian--treasures of art, rich cloths and embroideries,
utensils of gold and silver, pictures, statues, and works in brass, from
the cities of Gaul, from Asia and from Egypt. Conspicuous here over all
were the rich and gorgeous contents of the palace of Zenobia. The huge
wains groaned under the weight of vessels of gold and silver, of ivory,
and of the most precious woods of India. The jewelled wine cups, vases,
and golden sculpture of Demetrius attracted the gaze and excited the
admiration of every beholder. Immediately after these came a crowd of
youths richly habited in the costumes of a thousand different tribes,
bearing in their hands, upon cushions of silk, crowns of gold and
precious stones, the offerings of the cities and kingdoms of all the
world, as it were, to the power and fame of Aurelian. Following these
came the ambassadors of all nations, sumptuously arrayed in the habits of
their respective countries. Then an innumerable train of captives,
showing plainly in their downcast eyes, in their fixed and melancholy
gaze, that hope had taken its departure from their breasts. Among these
were many women from the shores of the Danube, taken in arms fighting
for their country, of enormous stature, and clothed in the warlike
costume of their tribes.

But why do I detain you with these things, when it is of one only that you
wish to hear. I cannot tell you with what impatience I waited for that
part of the procession to approach where were Zenobia and Julia. I thought
its line would stretch on forever. And it was the ninth hour before the
alternate shouts and deep silence of the multitudes announced that the
conqueror was drawing near the capitol. As the first shout arose, I turned
toward the quarter whence it came, and beheld, not Aurelian as I expected,
but the Gallic Emperor Tetricus--yet slave of his army and of
Victoria--accompanied by the prince his son, and followed by other
illustrious captives from Gaul. All eyes were turned with pity upon him,
and with indignation too that Aurelian should thus treat a Roman, and
once--a Senator. But sympathy for him was instantly lost in a stronger
feeling of the same kind for Zenobia, who came immediately after. You can
imagine, Fausta, better than I can describe them, my sensations, when I
saw our beloved friend--her whom I had seen treated never otherwise than
as a sovereign Queen, and with all the imposing pomp of the Persian
ceremonial--now on foot, and exposed to the rude gaze of the Roman
populace--toiling beneath the rays of a hot sun, and the weight of jewels,
such as both for richness and beauty, were never before seen in Rome--and
of chains of gold, which, first passing around her neck and arms, were
then borne up by attendant slaves. I could have wept to see her so--yes,
and did. My impulse was to break through the crowd and support her almost
fainting form--but I well knew that my life would answer for the rashness
on the spot. I could only therefore, like the rest, wonder and gaze. And
never did she seem to me, not even in the midst of her own court, to blaze
forth with such transcendent beauty--yet touched with grief. Her look was
not that of dejection of one who was broken and crushed by
misfortune--there was no blush of shame. It was rather one of profound
heartbreaking melancholy, Her full eyes looked as if privacy only was
wanted for them to overflow with floods of tears. But they fell not. Her
gaze was fixed on vacancy, or else cast toward the ground. She seemed like
one unobservant of all around her, and buried in thoughts to which all
else were strangers, and had nothing in common with. They were in Palmyra,
and with her slaughtered multitudes. Yet though she wept not, others did;
and one could, see all along, wherever she moved, the Roman hardness
yielding to pity, and melting down before the all-subduing presence of
this wonderful woman. The most touching phrases of compassion fell
constantly upon my ear. And ever and anon as in the road there would
happen some rough or damp place, the kind souls would throw down upon it
whatever of their garments they could quickest divest themselves of, that
those feet, little used to such encounters, might receive no harm. And as
when other parts of the procession were passing by, shouts of triumph and
vulgar joy frequently arose from the motley crowds, yet when Zenobia
appeared, a death-like silence prevailed, or it was interrupted only by
exclamations of admiration or pity, or of indignation at Aurelian for so
using her. But this happened not long. For when the Emperor's pride had
been sufficiently gratified, and just there where he came over against the
steps of the capitol, he himself, crowned as he was with the diadem of
universal empire, descended from his chariot, and, unlocking the chains of
gold that bound the limbs of the Queen, led and placed her in her own
chariot--that chariot in which she had fondly hoped herself to enter
Rome in triumph--between Julia and Livia. Upon this the air was rent with
the grateful acclamations of the countless multitudes. The Queen's
countenance brightened for a moment as if with the expressive sentiment,
'The gods bless you!' and was then buried in the folds of her robe. And
when after the lapse of many minutes it was again raised and turned toward
the people, every one might see that tears burning hot had coursed her
cheeks, and relieved a heart which else might well have burst with its
restrained emotion. Soon as the chariot which held her had disappeared
upon the other side of the capitol, I extricated myself from the crowd and
returned home. It was not till the shades of evening had fallen, that the
last of the procession had passed the front of the capitol, and the
Emperor reposed within the walls of his palace. The evening was devoted to
the shows of the theatres.

Seven days succeeding this first day of the triumph have been devoted to
games and shows. I attended them not, but escaping from the tumult and
confusion of the city, passed them in a very different manner--you will at
once conjecture where and with whom. It was indeed as you suppose in the
society of Zenobia, Julia, and Livia.

What the immediate destination of the Queen was to be I knew not, nor did
any seem to know even so late as the day of the triumph. It was only known
that her treatment was to be lenient. But on the day after, it became
public in the city, that the Emperor had bestowed upon her his magnificent
villa, not far from Hadrian's at Tibur, and at the close of the first day
of the triumph a chariot of Aurelian in waiting had conveyed her there.
This was to me transporting news, as it will be to you.

On the evening of that day I was at Tibur. Had I been a son or a brother,
the Queen could not have received me with more emotion. But I leave it to
you to imagine the first moments of our interview. When our greetings were
over, the first thought, at least the first question, of Zenobia was,
concerning you and Gracchus. All her inquiries, as well as those of Julia,
I was happily able to answer in the most exact manner, out of the fulness
of your letter. When I had finished this agreeable duty, the Queen said,

'Our happiness were complete, as now it can be, could Fausta and Gracchus
be but added to our numbers. I shall hope, in the lapse of days or months,
to entice them away for a season from their melancholy home. And yet what
better can I offer them here? There they behold their city in ruins; here
their Queen. There they already detect some tokens of reviving life; here
they would have before them but the picture of decay and approaching
death. But these things I ought not to say. Piso, you will be glad to
learn the purposes of Aurelian concerning Palmyra. He has already set
apart large sums for the restoration of its walls and temples; and what is
more and better, he has made Gracchus governor of the city and province,
with liberal promises of treasure to carry into effect whatever designs he
may conceive as most likely to people again the silent streets, and fill
them with the merchants of the East and the West.'

'Aurelian, I am persuaded,' I replied, 'will feel upon him the weight of
the strongest motives to do all that he can to repair the injuries he has
inflicted. Then too, in addition to this, his nature is generous.'

'It is so,' said Julia. 'How happy if he had been less subject to his
passions! The proofs of a generous nature you see here, Piso, every where
around us. This vast and magnificent palace, with its extensive grounds,
has he freely bestowed upon us; and here, as your eye has already informed
you, has he caused to be brought and arranged every article of use or
luxury found in the palace of Palmyra, and capable of transportation.'

'I could hardly believe,' I said, 'as I approached the great entrance, and
beheld objects so familiar--still more, when I came within the walls and
saw around me all that I had seen in Palmyra, that I was indeed in the
vicinity of Rome, and had not been by some strange power transported
suddenly to Asia. In the rash violence of Aurelian in Syria, and in this
reparation, both here and there, of the evil he has committed to the
farthest extent possible, you witness a genuine revelation of his
character. Would that principle rather than passion were the governing
power of his life!'

Although I have passed many days at Tibur, yet have I seen but little
of Zenobia. She is silent and solitary. Her thoughts are evidently never
with the present, but far back among the scenes of her former life. To
converse is an effort. The lines of grief have fixed themselves upon her
countenance; her very form and manner are expressive of a soul bowed and
subdued by misfortune. Her pride seems no longer, as on the day of the
triumph, to bear her up. It is Zenobia before me, but--like her own
beautiful capital--it is Zenobia in ruins. That she suffers too from the
reproaches of a mind now conscious of its errors I cannot doubt. She
blames Aurelian, but I am persuaded she blames with no less severity
herself. It is, I doubt not, the image of her desolated country rising
before her, that causes her so often in the midst of discourse with us,
or when she has been sitting long silent, suddenly to start and clasp
her hands, and withdraw weeping to her apartments, or the seclusion of
the garden.

Copyright (c) 2007. famouswriterz.com. All rights reserved.