Chapter V: Part 5

Comfort Makepeace was naturally gloomy, from his birth, and his temperament had by no means grown lighter in his old age. He grew daily more unhappy and austere, until the cloud on his brow became settled and irremovable. The spirit of irreligion that was abroad, and particularly the advances it had made within the circle of his own family, were fast wearing upon his strength, and the iron constitution which had resisted a thousand shocks, gave way to the force of mental affliction.

Comfort Makepeace died lamented, and, as in a thousand other cases, the deceased acquired more honor than the living had gained respect. One, of his strongly-marked character, could hardly expect to pass through life without experiencing the bitterness of enmity. Yet his uncompromising independence and stern integrity won for him a reverence among his fellow men, which few, devoid of those qualities, ever receive. The confirmed austerity of his manners did not permit him to enjoy the delights of friendship, or to appreciate its value. The bigoted illiberality with which his religious sentiments were marked, suited not the character of so late an age; but the unimpeachable honesty of his faith insured it from obvious disrespect. Long and loud were his dying lamentations over the faults of the age, and not less particularly over the best hope that the rites and observances of the puritans would be perpetuated in his own family.

W. A. B.

MY MOTHER'S GRAVE.

'If e'er the blest to earth descend,
O come, my mother and my friend,
And GOD by thee will comfort send,
To cheer this gloom!

EPITAPH IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.

MY Mother! o'er thy lowly grave
The stormy winds may blow,
And spreading branches rudely wave,
Nor break thy rest below.
The bird that mounts on joyous wing,
To hail the rising day,
Though sweet the careless warbler sing,
Pours not for thee his lay!

The stranger, as with pensive eye,
He scans thy burial-stone,
May heave, perchance, a transient sigh
For sorrows of his own;
But few of all the friendly band
Who smiled thy face to see,
Untouched by the Destroyer's hand,
Remain to think of thee!

Yet often, mingling with the crowd
Who thronged yon house of prayer,
In humble posture thou hast bowed,
And loved to worship there.
The solemn notes of sacred lays
Which through those arches rung,
Once filled thy heart with grateful praise,
And trembled on thy tongue!

And oft thy sympathizing breast
The passing tribute gave,
As lightly on the turf thou pressed,
Which covers now thy grave!
I stood beside the hallowed ground,
That marks thy resting-place,
When rolling years had soothed the wound
Which Time can ne'er efface.

And scenes a mother's kindness wove,
When life and hope were new,
Bearing the record of her love,
Came rising to my view:
I thought on all thy tender care,
Thy nature sweet and mild,
Which used my little griefs to share,
And blessed me when a child.

Long, long within the silent tomb
Thy cherished form has laid,
And other woes have chased the gloom
That dark bereavement made;
Yet bright to Memory's fond survey
Each lineament appears,
As when it shed its living ray
On eyes undimmed by tears!

No more the buoyant hopes of youth
Their wonted joy impart,
And childhood's dream of changeless truth
Has ceased to warm my heart;
But while its languid pulses move,
Life's crimson tide to bear,
The sweet remembrance of thy love
Shall still be treasured there!

X.

LITERARY NOTICES.

LETTERS OF LUCIUS M. PISO, from Palmyra, to his Friend MARCUS
CURTIUS, at Rome. Now first Translated and Published. In two
volumes, 12mo. pp. 498. New-York: C. S. FRANCIS. Boston: JOSEPH
H. FRANCIS.

WE shall offer no apology, nor will our readers deem one necessary, for devoting so large a portion of the review department of the present number of this Magazine to an extended notice of the work before us. The letters contained in the first volume have already appeared in our pages; and the great and deserved popularity which they have acquired, will insure eager readers for the remainder, (the issue of which public opinion has hastened,) which advance in interest to the very close of the work. The conception of the plan is most felicitous--the execution masterly, beyond modern example. The author seems, primarily, to have _saturated_ his mind with the very spirit of the past. He has rolled back the tide of time, and placed us in Palmyra, the magnificent capital of the East, and caused all her glories to pass palpably before us, as if we were gazing upon a moving panorama. Commencing with the first faint dawn of the Christian faith, he infuses into the reader 'a soul of old religion.' His characters are marked with great force; while a nice verisimilitude of individual nature is combined with elegance of fancy, and a richness of ideal coloring, wholly unsurpassed by any kindred writer. The plot--if a succession of events converging to a final point may be so denominated--is natural and unperplexed; while the minor descriptive scenes, which are often interwoven, and the inferior characters, are equally well sketched. Though fluctuating between history and romance, the work no where fails to disguise the presence of the latter. The reader is _with_ the characters and _of_ them, from first to last, such is the author's happy freedom of delineation, and the harmony and ease both of incident and style.

We proceed to justify our encomiums by liberal extracts, commencing with a stirring picture, which our readers would readily recognise, without consulting the _quis sculpsit_.

"I am just returned from a singular adventure. My hand trembles
as I write. I had laid down my pen, and gone forth upon my
Arab, accompanied by Milo, to refresh and invigorate my frame
after our late carousal--shall I term it?--at the palace. I
took my way, as I often do, to the Long Portico, that I might
again look upon its faultless beauty, and watch the changing
crowds. Turning from that, I then amused my vacant mind by
posting myself where I could overlook, as if I were indeed
the builder or superintendent, the laborers upon the column
of Aurelian. I became at length particularly interested in
the efforts of a huge elephant, who was employed in dragging
up to the foundations of the column, so that they might be
fastened to machines, to be then hoisted to their place,
enormous blocks of marble. He was a noble animal, and, as it
seemed to me, of far more than common size and strength. Yet
did not his utmost endeavor appear to satisfy the demands of
those who drove him, and who plied without mercy the barbed
scourges which they bore. His temper at length gave way. He
was chained to a mass of rock, which it was evidently beyond
his power to move. It required the united strength of two, at
least. But this was nothing to his inhuman masters. They ceased
not to urge him with cries and blows. One of them, at length,
transported by that insane fury which seizes the vulgar when
their will is not done by the brute creation, laid hold upon
a long lance, terminated with a sharp iron goad, long as my
sword, and rushing upon the beast, drove it into his hinder
part. At that very moment, the chariot of the Queen, containing
Zenobia herself, Julia, and the other princesses, came suddenly
against the column, on its way to the palace. I made every
possible sign to the charioteer to turn and fly. But it was
too late. The infuriated monster snapped the chains that held
him to the stone at a single bound, as the iron entered him,
and trampling to death one of his drivers, dashed forward to
wreak his vengeance upon the first object that should come in
his way. That, to the universal terror and distraction of the
gathered, but now scattered and flying crowds, was the chariot
of the Queen. Her mounted guards, at the first onset of the
maddened animal, put spurs to their horses, and by quick leaps
escaped. The horses attached to the chariot, springing forward
to do the same, urged by the lash of the charioteer, were met
by the elephant with straightened trunk and tail, who, in the
twinkling of an eye, wreathed his proboscis around the neck of
the first he encountered, and wrenching him from his harness,
whirled him aloft, and dashed him to the ground. This I saw was
the moment to save the life of the Queen, if it was indeed to
be saved. Snatching from a flying soldier his long spear, and
knowing well the temper of my horse, I put him to his speed,
and running upon the monster as he disengaged his trunk from
the crushed and dying Arabian for a new assault, I drove it
with unerring aim into his eye, and through that opening on
into the brain. He fell as if a bolt from heaven had struck
him. The terrified and struggling horses of the chariot were
secured by the now returning crowds, and the Queen with the
princesses relieved from the peril which was so imminent, and
had blanched with terror every cheek but Zenobia's. She had
stood the while--I was told--there being no exertion which she
could make--watching with eager and intense gaze my movements,
upon which she felt that their safety, perhaps their lives,
depended.

"It all passed in a moment. Soon as I drew out my spear
from the dying animal, the air was rent with the shouts of
the surrounding populace. Surely, at that moment I was the
greatest, at least the most unfortunate, man in Palmyra.
These approving shouts, but still more the few words uttered
by Zenobia and Julia, were more than recompense enough for
the small service I had performed; especially, however, the
invitation of the Queen:

"'But come, noble Piso, leave not the work half done: we need
now a protector for the remainder of the way. Ascend, if you
will do us such pleasure, and join us to the palace.'

"I needed no repeated urging, but taking the offered
seat--whereupon new acclamations went up from the now augmented
throngs--I was driven, as I conceived, in a sort of triumph to
the palace, where passing an hour, which, it seems to me, held
more than all the rest of my life, I have now returned to my
apartment, and relate what has happened for your entertainment.
You will not wonder that for many reasons my hand trembles, and
my letters are not formed with their accustomed exactness."

The reader would scarcely pardon an omission to record the return of Calpurnius, the captive brother of the noble Piso, in whose fate he must have become deeply interested. While at the palace, soon after the adventure above recorded, the writer is interrupted by a confused noise of running to and fro. Presently, some one with a quick, light foot approaches:

"The quick, light foot by which I was disturbed, was Fausta's.
I knew it, and sprang to the door. She met me with her bright
and glowing countenance bursting with expression: 'Calpurnius!'
said she, 'your brother, is here'--and seizing my hand drew me
to the apartment, where he sat by the side of Gracchus--Isaac,
with his inseparable pack, standing near.

"I need not, as I cannot, describe our meeting. It was the
meeting of brothers--yet, of strangers, and a confusion of
wonder, curiosity, vague expectation, and doubt, possessed
the soul of each. I trust and believe, that notwithstanding
the different political bias which sways each, the ancient
ties which bound us together as brothers will again unite us.
The countenance of Calpurnius, though dark and almost stern
in its general expression, yet unbends and relaxes frequently
and suddenly, in a manner that impresses you forcibly with
an inward humanity as the presiding though often concealed
quality of his nature. I can trace faintly the features which
have been stamped upon my memory--and the form too--chiefly
by the recollected scene of that bright morning, when he with
our elder brother and venerable parent, gave us each a last
embrace, as they started for the tents of Valerian. A warmer
climate has deepened the olive of his complexion, and at the
same time added brilliancy to an eye, by nature soft as a
woman's. His Persian dress increases greatly the effect of his
rare beauty, yet I heartily wish it off, as it contributes
more, I believe, than the lapse of so many years, to separate
us. He will not seem and feel as a brother, till he returns to
the costume of his native land. How great this power of mere
dress is upon our affections and our regard, you can yourself
bear witness, when those who parted from you to travel in
foreign countries have returned metamorphosed into Greeks,
Egyptians, or Persians, according to the fashions that have
struck their foolish fancies. The assumed and foreign air:
chills the untravelled heart as it greets them. They are no
longer the same. However the reason may strive to overcome
what seems the mere prejudice of a wayward nature, we strive
in vain: nature will be uppermost--and many, many times have I
seen the former friendships break away and perish.

"I could not be alive to the general justness of the comparison
instituted by Isaac, between Calpurnius and Julia. There are
many points of resemblance. The very same likeness in kind
that we so often observe between a brother and sister--such as
we have often remarked in your nephew and niece, Drusus and
Lavinia--whose dress being changed, and they are changed.

"No sooner had I greeted and welcomed my brother, than I turned
to Isaac and saluted him, I am persuaded with scarcely less
cordiality.

"'I sincerely bless the gods,' said I, 'that you have escaped
the perils of two such passages through the desert, and are
safe in Palmyra. May every wish of your heart, concerning your
beloved Jerusalem, be accomplished. In the keeping of Demetrius
will you find not only the single talent agreed upon, in
case you returned, but the two which were to be paid had you
perished. One such tempest upon the desert, escaped, is more
and worse than death itself, met softly upon one's bed.

"'Now, Jehovah be praised,' ejaculated Isaac, 'who himself has
moved thy heart to this grace. Israel will feel this bounty
through every limb: it will be to her as the oil of life.'

"'And my debt,' said Calpurnius, 'is greater yet, and should in
reason be more largely paid. Through the hands of Demetrius I
will discharge it.'

"'We are all bound to you,' said Fausta, 'more than words or
money pay.'

"'You owe more than you are perhaps aware of, to the rhetoric
of Isaac,' added Calpurnius. 'Had it not been for the faithful
zeal and cunning of your messenger, in his arguments not less
than his contrivances, I had hardly now been sitting within the
walls of Palmyra.'"

Isaac, after narrating the particulars of an affray in which he became involved in the streets of Ecbatana, by disputing the sincerity of a Persian false prophet, who was 'speaking perverse things, to draw away disciples after him,' closes with the following beautiful and pathetic defence of the 'ancient covenant people:'

"'One word, if it please you,' said Isaac, 'before I depart.
The gentile despises the Jew. He charges upon him usury and
extortion. He accuses him of avarice. He believes him to
subsist upon the very life-blood of whomsoever he can draw into
his meshes. I have known those who have firm faith that the
Jew feeds but upon the flesh and blood of Pagan and Christian
infants, whom, by necromantic power, he beguiles from their
homes. He is held as the common enemy of man--a universal
robber--whom all are bound to hate and oppress. Reward me now
with your belief, better than even the two gold talents I have
earned, that all are not such. This is the charity, and all
that I would beg; and I beg it of you--for that I love you
all, and would have your esteem. Believe that in the Jew there
is a heart of flesh as well as in a dog. Believe that some
noble ambition visits his mind as well as yours. Credit it
not--it is against nature--that any tribe of man is what you
make the Jew. Look upon me, and behold the emblem of my tribe.
What do you see? A man bent with years and toil--this ragged
tunic his richest garb--his face worn with the storms of all
climates--a wanderer over the earth; my home--Piso, thou hast
seen it--a single room, with my good dromedary's furniture
for my bed at night, and my seat by day; this pack--my only
apparent wealth. Yet here have I now received two gold talents
of Jerusalem!--what most would say were wealth enough, and
this is not the tythe of that which I possess. What then? Is
it for that I love obscurity, slavery, and a beggar's raiment,
that I live and labor thus, when my wealth would raise me to
a prince's state? Or is it that I love to sit and count my
hoarded gains? Good friends, for such you are, believe it not.
You have found me faithful and true to my engagements; believe
my word also. You have heard of Jerusalem, once the chief city
of the East, where stood the great temple of our faith, and
which was the very heart of our nation, and you know how it
was beleaguered by the Romans, and its very foundations rooted
up, and her inhabitants driven abroad as outcasts, to wander
over the face of the earth, with every where a country, but no
where a home. And does the Jew, think you, sit down quietly
under these wrongs? Trajan's reign may answer that. Is there no
patriotism yet alive in the bosom of a Jew? Will every other
toil and die for his country, and not the Jew? Believe me
again, the prayers which go up morning, noon, and night, for
the restoration of Jerusalem, are not fewer than those which go
up for Rome or Palmyra. And their deeds are not less--for every
prayer there are two acts. It is for Jerusalem, that you behold
me thus in rags, and yet rich. It is for her glory, that I am
the servant of all, and the scorn of all; that I am now pinched
by the winters of Byzantium, now scorched by the heats of Asia,
and buried beneath the sands of the desert. All that I have and
am is for Jerusalem. And in telling you of myself, I have told
you of my tribe. What we do and are, is not for ourselves, but
for our country. Friends, the hour of redemption draweth nigh!'"

Soon after Calpurnius's return--who has imbibed a hatred of Rome during his long captivity, and who espouses Zenobia's cause with great zeal--the Roman ambassadors leave Palmyra, bearing with them, from the Queen to Aurelian, a virtual declaration of war. The busy note of preparation for contest resounds through the city, the whole aspect of which is changed. Even Fausta makes ready for battle, and dons her armor. Of the latter, and how it became the noble Palmyrene maiden, the annexed extracts speak:

"As I descended to the apartment where we take together our
morning meal, and which we were now for the last time to
partake in each other's company, I found Fausta already there,
and surveying with sparkling eyes and a flushed cheek, a suit
of the most brilliant armor, which, having been made by the
Queen's workmen, and by her order, had just now been brought
and delivered to her.

"'I asked the honor,' said the person with whom she was
conversing, 'to bring it myself, who have made it with the
same care as the Queen's, of the same materials, and after the
same fashion. So it was her order to do. It will set, lady,
believe me, as easy as a riding dress, though it will be all
of the most impenetrable steel. The polish too, is such, that
neither arrow nor javelin need be feared; they can but touch
and glance. Hercules could not indent this surface. Let me
reveal to you diverse secret and perfect springs and clasps,
the use of which you should be well acquainted with. Yet it
differs not so much from that in which you have performed your
exercises, but what you will readily comprehend the manner of
its adjustment.'"

* * * * *

"She was now a beautiful vision to behold as ever lighted upon
the earth. Her armor revealed with exactness the perfection of
her form, and to her uncommon beauty added its own, being of
the most brilliant steel, and frequently studded with jewels of
dazzling lustre. Her sex was revealed only by her hair, which
parting over her forehead, fell toward either eye, and then
was drawn up and buried in her helmet. The ease with which she
moved, showed how well she had accustomed herself, by frequent
exercises, to the cumbrous load she bore. I could hardly
believe, as she paced the apartment, issuing her final orders
to her slaves and attendants, who pressed around, that I was
looking upon a woman reared in all the luxury of the East. Much
as I had been accustomed to the sight of Zenobia performing the
part of an emperor, I found it difficult to persuade myself,
that when I looked upon Fausta, changing so completely her sex,
it was any thing more than an illusion."

We make the following striking extract, for the purpose of contrasting it with a kindred picture, though reversed:

"The city itself was all pouring forth upon the plains in its
vicinity. The crowds choked the streets as they passed out,
so that our progress was slow. Arriving at length, we turned
toward the pavilion of the Queen, pitched over against the
centre of the army. There we stood, joined by others, awaiting
her arrival--for she had not yet left the palace. We had not
stood long, before the braying of trumpets and other warlike
instruments announced her approach. We turned, and looking
toward the gate of the city, through which we had but now
passed, saw Zenobia, having on either side Longinus and Zabdas,
and preceded and followed by a select troop of horse, advancing
at her usual speed toward the pavilion. She was mounted upon
her far-famed white Numidian, for power an elephant, for
endurance a dromedary, for fleetness a very Nicoean, and who
had been her companion in all the battles by which she had
gained her renown and her empire.

"Calpurnius was beside himself: he had not before seen her when
assuming all her state. 'Did eye ever look upon aught so like a
celestial apparition? It is a descent from other regions; I can
swear 'tis no mortal--still less a woman. Fausta--this puts to
shame your eulogies, swollen as I termed them.'

"I did not wonder at his amazement, for I myself shared it,
though I had seen her so often. The object that approached
us, truly seemed rather a moving blaze of light than an armed
woman, which the eye and the reason declared it to be, with
such gorgeous magnificence was she arrayed. The whole art
of the armorer had been exhausted in her appointments. The
caparison of her steed, sheathed with burnished gold, and thick
studded with precious stones of every various hue, reflected
an almost intolerable splendor, as the rays of a hot morning
sun fell upon it. She too, herself, being clothed in armor of
polished steel, whose own fiëry brightness was doubled by the
diamonds--that was the only jewel she wore--sown with profusion
all over its more prominent parts, could be gazed upon scarcely
with more ease than the sun himself, whose beams were given
back from it with undiminished glory. In her right hand, she
held the long, slender lance of the cavalry; over her shoulders
hung a quiver, well loaded with arrows; while at her side
depended a heavy Damascus blade. Her head was surmounted by a
steel helmet, which left her face wholly uncovered, and showed
her forehead like Fausta's, shaded by the dark hair, which,
while it was the only circumstance that revealed the woman,
added to the effect of a countenance unequalled for marvellous
union of feminine beauty, queenly dignity, and masculine power.
Sometimes it has been her usage, upon such occasions, to appear
with arms bare, and gloved hands; they were now cased, like the
rest of the body, in plates of steel.

"'Calpurnius,' said Fausta, 'saw you ever in Persia such
horsemanship? See now, as she draws nearer, with what grace and
power she moves? Blame you the enthusiasm of this people?'

"'I more than share it,' he replied; 'it is reward enough for
my long captivity, at last to follow such a leader. Many a
time, as Zenobia has in years past visited my dreams, and I
almost fancied myself in her train, I little thought that the
happiness I now experience, was to become a reality. But, hark!
how the shout of welcome goes up from this innumerable host.'

"No sooner was the Queen arrived where we stood, and the whole
extended lines became aware of her presence, than the air
was rilled with the clang of trumpets, and the enthusiastic
cries of the soldiery, who waved aloft their arms, and made a
thousand expressive signs of most joyful greeting. When this
hearty salutation, commencing at the centre, had died away
along the wings, stretching one way to the walls of the city,
and the other toward the desert, Zenobia rode up nearer the
lines, and being there surrounded by the ranks which were
in front, and by a crowd of the great officers of the army,
spoke to them, in accordance with her custom. Stretching out
her hand, as if she would ask the attention of the multitude,
a deep silence ensued, and in a voice clear and strong, she
thus addressed them: 'Men and soldiers of Palmyra! Is this the
last time that you are to gather together in this glittering
array, and go forth as lords of the whole East? Conquerors
in so many wars, are you now about to make an offering of
yourselves and your homes to the Emperor of Rome? Am I, who
have twice led you to the gates of Ctesiphon, now to be your
leader to the footstool of Aurelian? Are you thinking of any
thing but victory? Is there one in all these ranks who doubts
whether the same fate that once befel Probus shall now befall
Aurelian? If there be, let him stand forth! Let him go and
intrench himself within the walls of Palmyra. We want him not.
(The soldiers brandished and clashed their arms.) Victory,
soldiers, belongs to those who believe. Believe that you can do
so, and we will return with a Roman army captive at our chariot
wheels. Who should put trust in themselves, if not the men
and soldiers of Palmyra? Whose memory is long enough to reach
backward to a defeat? What was the reign of Odenatus, but an
unbroken triumph? Are you now, for the first time, to fly or
fall before an enemy? And who the enemy? Forget it not--Rome!
and Aurelian! the greatest empire and the greatest soldier
of the world. Never before was so large a prize within your
reach. Never before fought you on a stage with the whole world
for spectators. Forget not, too, that defeat will be not only
defeat, but ruin! The loss of a battle will be not only so many
dead and wounded, but the loss of empire! For Rome resolves
upon our subjugation. We must conquer, or we must perish; and
forever lose our city, our throne, and our name. Are you ready
to write yourselves subjects and slaves of Rome!--citizens of a
Roman province?--and forfeit the proud name of Palmyrene? (Loud
and indignant cries rose from the surrounding ranks.) If not,
you have only to remember the plains of Egypt and of Persia,
and the spirit that burned within your bosoms then, will save
you now, and bring you back to these walls, your brows bound
about with the garlands of victory. Soldiers! strike your
tents! and away to the desert!'

"Shouts long and loud, mingled with the clash of arms, followed
these few words of the Queen. Her own name was heard above all.
'Long live the great Zenobia!' ran along the ranks, from the
centre to the extremes, and from the extremes back again to the
centre. It seemed as if, when her name had once been uttered,
they could not cease--through the operation of some charm--to
repeat it again and again, coupled, too, with a thousand
phrases of loyalty and affection."

The Queen takes farewell of her sorrowing friends, and departs at the head of her armed ranks, while the Princess Julia and Piso ascend the walls of the city, and from the towers of the gate observe the progress of the army:

"We returned to the city, and from the highest part of the
walls, watched the departing glories of the most magnificent
military array I had ever beheld. It was long after noon,
before the last of the train of loaded elephants sank below
the horizon. I have seen larger armies upon the Danube, and in
Gaul. But never have I seen one that in all its appointments
presented so imposing a spectacle. This was partly owing to
the greater proportion of cavalry, and to the admixture of the
long lines of elephants, with their burdens, their towers,
and litters--but more, perhaps, to the perfectness with which
each individual, be he on horse or foot, be he servant, slave,
or master, is furnished, respecting both arms, armor, and
apparel. Julia beheld it, if with sorrow, with pride also.

"'Between an army like this,' she said, 'so appointed, and so
led and inflamed, and another like that of Rome, coming up
under a leader like Aurelian, how sharp and deadly must be the
encounter! What a multitude of this and that living host, now
glorious in the blaze of arms, and burning with desires of
conquest, will fall and perish, pierced by weapons, or crushed
by elephants, nor ever hear the shout of victory! A horrid
death, winding up a feverish dream. And of that number, how
likely to be Fausta and Zenobia.'"

After some delay, during which time all Palmyra is vibrating between hope and fear, intelligence is brought of a battle before Antioch, between the forces of Zenobia and Aurelian, in which the army of the former is completely routed, and compelled to retreat upon Emesa. These events are thus narrated:

"Upon the approach of Aurelian, the several provinces of Asia
Minor, which by negotiation and conquest had by Zenobia been
connected with her kingdom, immediately returned to their
former allegiance. The cities opened their gates, and admitted
the armies of the conqueror. Tyana alone, of all the Queen's
dominions in that quarter, opposed the progress of the Emperor,
and this strong-hold was soon by treachery delivered into his
power. Thence he pressed on without pause to Antioch, where
he found the Queen awaiting him. A battle immediately ensued.
At first, the Queen's forces obtained decided advantages, and
victory seemed ready to declare for her, as always before,
when the gods decreed otherwise, and the day was lost--but
lost in the indignant language of the Queen, 'not in fair
and honorable fight, but through the baseness of a stratagem
rather to have been expected from a Carthaginian than the great
Aurelian.' 'Our troops,' she writes, 'had driven the enemy from
his ground at every point. Notwithstanding the presence of
Aurelian, and the prodigies of valor by which he distinguished
himself anew, and animated his soldiers, our cavalry, led by
the incomparable Zabdas, bore him and his legions backward till
apparently discomfited by the violence of the onset, the Roman
horse gave way and fled in all directions. The shout of victory
arose from our ranks, which now dissolved, and in the disorder
of a flushed and conquering army, scattered in hot pursuit
of the flying foe. Now, when too late, we saw the treachery
of the enemy. Our horse, heavy-armed, as you know--were led
on by the retreating Romans into a broken and marshy ground,
where their movements were in every way impeded, and thousands
were suddenly fixed immovable in the deep morass. At this
moment, the enemy, by preconcerted signals, with inconceivable
rapidity--being light-armed--formed; and, returning upon our
now scattered and broken forces, made horrible slaughter of all
who had pushed farthest from the main body of the army. Dismay
seized our soldiers--the panic spread--increased by the belief
that a fresh army had come up and was entering the field, and
our whole duty centered upon forming and covering our retreat.
This, chiefly through the conduct of Calpurnius Piso, was
safely effected; the Romans being kept at bay while we drew
together, and then under cover of the approaching night, fell
back to a new and strong position.

"'I attempt not, Longinus, to make that better which is bad. I
reveal the whole truth, not softening or withholding a single
feature of it, that your mind may be possessed of the exact
state of our affairs, and know how to form its judgments. Make
that which I write public, to the extent and in the manner that
shall seem best to you.

"'After mature deliberation, we have determined to retreat
farther yet, and take up our position under the walls of Emesa.
Here, I trust in the gods we shall redeem that which we have
lost.'

"In a letter to Julia, the Queen says, 'Fausta has escaped
the dangers of the battle; selfishly, perhaps, dividing her
from Piso, she has shared my tent and my fortunes, and has
proved herself worthy of every confidence that has been reposed
in her. She is my inseparable companion in the tent, in the
field, and on the road, by night and by day. Give not way to
despondency, dear Julia. Fortune, which has so long smiled
upon me, is not now about to forsake me. There is no day so
long and bright, that clouds do not sail by and cast their
little shadows. But the sun is behind them. Our army is still
great and in good heart. The soldiers receive me, whenever I
appear, with their customary acclamations. Fausta shares this
enthusiasm. Wait without anxiety or fear for news from Emesa.'"

But Zenobia is again destined to defeat, and soon after writes from Emesa: 'Our cavalry were at first victorious, as before at Antioch. The Roman horse were routed. But the infantry of Aurelian, in number greatly superior to ours, falling upon our ranks when deprived of the support of the cavalry, obtained an easy victory; while their horse, rallying and increased by rëinforcements from Antioch, drove us in turn at all points, penetrating even to our camp, and completed the disaster of the day. I have now no power with which to cope with Aurelian. It remains but to retreat upon Palmyra, there placing our reliance upon the strength of our walls, and upon our Armenian, Saracen, and Persian allies. I do not despair, although the favor of the gods seems withdrawn.'

Great consternation now pervades the city, and the people, clustering together in knots, seem paralyzed or struck dumb, finding little joy save in again beholding their Queen, now anxiously expected, with the remnant of her gallant army. At length, 'far off their coming shone:'

"As I sit writing at my open window, overlooking the street and
spacious courts of the Temple of Justice, I am conscious of an
unusual disturbance--the people at a distance are running in
one direction--the clamor approaches--and now I hear the cries
of the multitude, 'The Queen, the Queen!'

"I fly to the walls.

"I resume my pen. The alarm was a true one. Upon gaining the
streets, I found the populace all pouring toward the gate of
the desert, in which direction, it was affirmed, the Queen was
making her approach. Upon reaching it, and ascending one of its
lofty towers, I beheld from the verge of the horizon to within
a mile of the walls, the whole plain filled with the scattered
forces of Zenobia, a cloud of dust resting over the whole, and
marking out the extent of ground they covered. As the advanced
detachments drew near, how different a spectacle did they
present from that bright morning, when, glittering in steel,
and full of the fire of expected victory, they proudly took
their way toward the places from which they now were returning,
a conquered, spoiled, and dispirited remnant, covered with the
dust of a long march, and wearily dragging their limbs beneath
the rays of a burning sun. Yet was there order and military
discipline preserved, even under circumstances so depressing,
and which usually are an excuse for their total relaxation. It
was the silent, dismal march of a funeral train, rather than
the hurried flight of a routed and discomfited army. There was
the stiff and formal military array, but the life and spirit
of an elevated and proud soldiery were gone. They moved with
method to the sound of clanging instruments and the long,
shrill blast of the trumpet, but they moved as mourners. They
seemed as if they came to bury their Queen.

"Yet the scene changed to a brighter aspect, as the army drew
nearer and nearer to the walls, and the city throwing open her
gates, the populace burst forth, and with loud and prolonged
shouts, welcomed them home. These shouts sent new life into the
hearts of the desponding ranks, and with brightened faces and
a changed air, they waved their arms and banners, and returned
shout for shout. As they passed through the gates to the ample
quarters provided within the walls, a thousand phrases of
hearty greeting were showered down upon them, from those who
lined the walls, the towers, and the way-side, which seemed
from the effects produced in those on whom they fell, a more
quickening restorative than could have been any medicine or
food that had ministered only to the body.

"The impatience of the multitude to behold and receive the
Queen, was hardly to be restrained from breaking forth in some
violent way. They were ready to rush upon the great avenue,
bearing aside the troops, that they might the sooner greet her.
When, at length, the centre of the army approached, and the
armed chariot appeared in which Zenobia sat, the enthusiasm of
the people knew no bounds. They broke through all restraint,
and with cries that filled the heavens, pressed toward her--the
soldiers catching the frenzy and joining them--and quickly
detaching the horses from her carriage, themselves drew her
into the city just as if she had returned victor with Aurelian
in her train. There was no language of devotion and loyalty
that did not meet her ear, nor any sign of affection that could
be made from any distance, from the plains, the walls, the
gates, the higher buildings of the city, the roofs of which
were thronged, that did not meet her eye. It was a testimony
of love so spontaneous and universal, a demonstration of
confidence and unshaken attachment so hearty and sincere, that
Zenobia was more than moved by it, she was subdued--and she,
who, by her people had never before been seen to weep, bent her
head and buried her face in her hands.

"With what an agony of expectation, while this scene was
passing, did I await the appearance of Fausta, and Gracchus,
and Calpurnius--if, indeed, I were destined ever to see them
again. I waited long, and with pain, but the gods be praised,
not in vain, nor to meet with disappointment only. Not far in
the rear of Zenobia, at the head of a squadron of cavalry,
rode, as my eye distinctly informed me, those whom I sought.
No sooner did they in turn approach the gates, than almost
the same welcome that had been lavished upon Zenobia, was
repeated for Fausta, Gracchus, and Calpurnius. The names of
Calpurnius and Fausta--of Calpurnius, as he who had saved the
army at Antioch, of Fausta as the intrepid and fast friend of
the Queen, were especially heard from a thousand lips, joined
with every title of honor. My voice was not wanting in the
loud acclaim. It reached the ears of Fausta, who, starting
and looking upward, caught my eye just as she passed beneath
the arch of the vast gateway. I then descended from my tower
of observation, and joined the crowds who thronged the close
ranks, as they filed along the streets of the city. I pressed
upon the steps of my friends, never being able to keep my eyes
from the forms of those I loved so well, whom I had so feared
to lose, and so rejoiced to behold returned alive and unhurt.

"All day the army has continued pouring into the city, and
beside the army greater crowds still of the inhabitants of
the suburbs, who, knowing that before another day shall end,
the Romans may encamp before the walls, are scattering in all
directions--multitudes taking refuge in the city, but greater
numbers still mounted upon elephants, camels, dromedaries
and horses, flying into the country to the north. The whole
region as far as the eye can reach, seems in commotion, as if
society were dissolved, and breaking up from its foundations.
The noble and the rich, whose means are ample, gather together
their valuables, and with their children and friends, seek the
nearest parts of Mesopotamia, where they will remain in safety
till the siege shall be raised. The poor, and such as cannot
reach the Euphrates, flock into the city, bringing with them
what little of provisions or money they may possess, and are
quartered upon the inhabitants, or take up a temporary abode
in the open squares, or in the courts and porticos of palaces
and temples--the softness and serenity of the climate rendering
even so much as the shelter of a tent superfluous. But by this
vast influx the population of the city cannot be less than
doubled, and I should tremble for the means of subsistence
for so large a multitude, did I not know the inexhaustible
magazines of corn, laid up by the prudent foresight of the
Queen, in anticipation of the possible occurrence of the
emergency which has now arrived. A long time--longer than he
himself would be able to subsist his army, must Aurelian lie
before Palmyra, ere he can hope to reduce it by famine. What
impression his engines may be able to make upon the walls,
remains to be seen."

The arrival of the Palmyrene army is soon followed by that of Aurelian, which presently surround the city, and under cover of shields, attempt to undermine and scale the walls. But they are foiled:

"It is incredible the variety and ingenuity of the contrivances
by which the Queen's forces beat off and rendered ineffectual
all the successive movements of the enemy, in their attempts
to surmount the walls. Not only from every part of the wall
were showers of arrows discharged from the bows of experienced
archers, but from engines also, by which they were driven to a
much greater distance, and with great increase of force.

"This soon rendered every attack of this nature useless and
worse, and their efforts were then concentrated upon the
several gates which simultaneously were attempted to be
broken in, fired, or undermined. But here again, as often
as these attempts were renewed, were they defeated, and
great destruction made of those engaged in them. The troops
approached, as is usual, covered completely, or buried
rather, beneath their shields. They were suffered to form
directly under the walls, and actually commence their work
of destruction, when suddenly from the towers of the gates,
and through channels constructed for the purpose in every
part of the masonry, torrents of liquid fire were poured upon
the iron roof, beneath which the soldiers worked. This at
first they endured. The melted substances ran off from the
polished surface of the shields, and the stones which were
dashed upon them from engines, after rattling and bounding
over their heads, rolled harmless to the ground. But there was
in reserve a foe which they could not encounter. When it was
found that the fiëry streams flowed down the slanting sides of
the shell, penetrating scarcely at all through the crevices
of the well-joined shields, it was suggested by the ingenious
Periander, that there should first be thrown down a quantity of
pitch, in a half melted state, by which the whole surface of
the roof should be completely covered, and which should then,
by a fresh discharge of fire, be set in a blaze, the effect
of which must be to heat the shields to such a degree, that
they could neither be held, nor the heat beneath endured by
the miners. This was immediately resorted to at all the gates,
and the success was complete. For no sooner was the cold pitch
set on fire and constantly fed by fresh quantities from above,
than the heat became insupportable to those below, who suddenly
letting go their hold, and breaking away from their compacted
form, in hope to escape from the stifling heat, the burning
substance then poured in upon them, and vast numbers perished
miserably upon the spot, or ran burning, and howling with pain,
toward the camp. The slaughter made was very great, and very
terrible to behold."

Aurelian next encompasses the city with a double ditch and rampart, in the construction of which he is often interrupted by the frequent sallies of the Palmyrenes from the gates. These preparations and their success are thus described:

"The Roman works are at length completed. Every lofty palm
tree, every cedar every terebinth, has disappeared from the
surrounding plains, to be converted into battering rams, or
wrought into immense towers, planted upon wheels, by which the
walls are to be approached and surmounted. Houses and palaces
have been demolished, that the ready hewed timber might be
detached and applied to various warlike purposes. The once
beautiful environs already begin to put on the appearance of
desolation and ruin.

"The citizens have awaited these preparations with watchful
anxiety. The Queen has expressed every where and to all, her
conviction that all these vast and various preparations are
futile--that the bravery of her soldiers and the completeness
of her counter provisions, will be sufficient for the
protection and deliverance of the city.

"Another day of fierce and bloody war. At four different
points have the vast towers been pushed to the walls, filled
with soldiers, and defended against the fires of the besieged
by a casing of skins and every incombustible substance, and
provided with a store of water to quench whatever part might by
chance kindle. It was fearful to behold these huge structures
urged along by a concealed force, partly of men and partly
of animals, and drawing nigh the walls. If they should once
approach so near that they could be fastened to the walls, and
so made secure, then could the enemy pour their legions upon
the ramparts, and the battle would be transferred to the city
itself. But in this case, as in the assaults upon the gates,
the fire of the besieged has proved irresistible.

"It was the direction of Periander, to whose unequalled
sagacity this part of the defence was intrusted, that so
soon as the towers should approach within reach of the most
powerful engines, they should be fired, if possible, by means
of well-barbed arrows and javelins, to which were attached
sacs and balls of inflammable and explosive substances. These
fastening themselves upon every part of the tower could not
fail to set fire to them while yet at some distance, and in
extinguishing which the water and other means provided for
that purpose would be nearly or quite exhausted, before they
had reached the walls. Then as they came within easier reach,
the engines were to belch forth those rivers of oil, fire, and
burning pitch, which he was sure no structure, unless of solid
iron, could withstand.

"These directions were carefully observed, and their success at
every point such as Periander had predicted. At the gate of the
desert the most formidable preparations were made, under the
directions of the Emperor himself, who, at a distance, could
plainly be discerned directing the work and encouraging the
soldiers. Two towers of enormous size were here constructed,
and driven toward the walls. Upon both, as they came within
the play of the engines, were showered the fiery javelins and
arrows, which it required all the activity of the occupants to
ward off or extinguish, where they had succeeded in fastening
themselves. One was soon in flames. The other, owing either
to its being of a better construction, or to a less vigorous
discharge of fire on the part of the defenders of the walls,
not only escaped the more distant storm of blazing missiles,
but succeeded in quenching the floods of burning pitch and
oil, which, as it drew nearer and nearer, were poured upon
it in fiery streams. On it moved, propelled by its invisible
and protected power, and had now reached the wall--the bridge
was in the very act of being thrown and grappled to the
ramparts--Aurelian was seen pressing forward the legions, who,
as soon as it should be fastened, were to pour up its flights
of steps and out upon the walls--when, to the horror of all,
not less of the besiegers than of the besieged, its foundations
upon one side--being laid over the moat--suddenly gave way, and
the towering and enormous mass, with all its living burden,
fell thundering to the plain. A shout, as of a delivered and
conquering army, went up from the walls, while upon the legions
below--such as had not been crushed by the tumbling ruin--and
who endeavored to save themselves by flight, a sudden storm of
stones, rocks, burning pitch, and missiles of a thousand kinds
was directed, that left few to escape to tell the tale of death
to their comrades. Aurelian, in his fury, or his desire to aid
the fallen, approaching too near the walls, was himself struck
by a well-directed shaft--wounded, and borne from the field.

"At the other gates, where similar assaults had been made, the
same success attended the Palmyrenes. The towers were in each
instance set on fire and destroyed.

"The city has greatly exulted at the issue of these repeated
contests. Every sound and sign of triumph has been made upon
the walls. Banners have been waved to and fro, trumpets have
been blown, and, in bold defiance of their power, parties of
horse have sallied out from the gates, and after careering in
sight of the enemy, have returned again within the walls. The
enemy are evidently dispirited, and already weary of the work
they have undertaken."

While the Palmyrenes are indulging the hope that Aurelian, finding his army diminishing, will propose terms which they can accept with honor, he despatches a herald, enjoining and commanding an immediate surrender of the city. Zenobia refuses the terms. Aurelian renews his attacks:

"In a few days the vast preparations of the Romans being
complete, a general assault was made by the whole army upon
every part of the walls. Every engine known to our modern
methods of attacking walled cities, was brought to bear. Towers
constructed in the former manner were wheeled up to the walls.
Battering rams of enormous size, those who worked them being
protected by sheds of hide, thundered on all sides at the gates
and walls. Language fails to convey an idea of the energy,
the fury, the madness of the onset. The Roman army seemed as
if but one being, with such equal courage and contempt of
danger and of death, was the dreadful work performed. But the
Queen's defences have again proved superior to all the power
of Aurelian. Her engines have dealt death and ruin in awful
measure among the assailants. The moat and the surrounding
plain are filled and covered with the bodies of the slain.
As night came on after a long day of uninterrupted conflict,
the troops of Aurelian, baffled and defeated at every point,
withdrew to their tents, and left the city to repose.

"The temples of the gods have resounded with songs of
thanksgiving for this new deliverance, garlands have been hung
around their images, and gifts laid upon their altars. Jews and
Christians, Persians and Egyptians, after the manner of their
worship, have added their voices to the general chorus.

"Again there has been a pause. The Romans have rested after
the late fierce assault to recover strength, and the city has
breathed free. Many are filled with new courage and hope, and
the discontented spirits are silenced. The praises of Zenobia,
next to those of the gods, fill every mouth. The streets ring
with songs composed in her honor."