And darkest frown the Syrian solitudes;
Where morn’s soft steps no balmy fragrance leave,
And parched and dewless is the couch of eve;
Thy form, pale city of the waste, appears
Like some faint vision of departed years;
In massy clusters still a giant train,
Thy sculptured fabrics whiten on the plain.
Still stretch thy columned vistas far away,
The shadowed dimness of their long array.
But where the stirring crowd, the voice of strife,
The glow of action and the thrill of life?
Hear the loud crash of yon huge fragments fall,
The pealing answer of each desert hall;
The night-bird shrieking from her secret cell,
The hollow winds, the tale of ruin tell.
See, fondly lingering, Mithra’s parting rays
Gild the proud towers, once vocal with his praise:
But the cold altars clasping weeds entwine,
And Moslems worship at the godless shrine.
Yet here slow pausing memory loves to pour
Her magic influence o’er this pensive hour:
And yet, as yon recesses deep prolong
The echoed sweetness of the Arab song,
Recalls that scene, when wisdom’s sceptred child,
First broke the stillness of the lonely wild.
From air, from ocean, from earth’s utmost clime,
The summoned genii heard the muttered rhyme;
The tasking spell their airy hands obeyed,
And Tadmor glittered in the palmy shade.
So to her feet the tide of ages brings
The wealth of nations and the pomp of kings,
And for her warrior queen, from Parthia’s plain
To the dark Ethiop, spreads her ample reign:
Vain boast, ev’n she who winds the field along,
Waked fiercer frenzy in the patriot throng;
And sternly beauteous in the meteor’s light,
Shot through the tempest of Emesa’s fight.
While trembling captives round the victor wait,
Hang on his eye, and catch the word of fate,
Zenobia’s self must quail beneath his nod,
A kneeling suppliant to the mimic god.
But one there stood amid that abject throng,
In truth triumphant, and in virtue strong;
Beamed on his brow the soul which, undismayed.
Smiled at the rod, and scorned the uplifted blade.
O’er thee, Palmyra, darkness seems to lower
The boding terrors of that fearful hour;
Far from thy glade indignant freedom fled,
And hope too withered as Longinus bled[61].
Palmyra, having become subject to a foreign yoke, bore the burthen with
impatience. The inhabitants cut off the Roman garrison. On which
Aurelian instantly returned, took the town, destroyed it, and put to
death most of its population, without distinction of age or sex. The
slaughter was so extensive, that none were left to plough the adjacent
lands.
Aurelian soon repented of his severity. He wrote to Bassus:—“You must
now sheathe the sword; the Palmyrenes have been sufficiently
slaughtered. We have not spared women; we have slain children; we have
strangled old men; we have destroyed the husbandmen. To whom, then,
shall we leave the land? To whom shall we leave the city? We must spare
those who remain; for we think, that the few there are now existing,
will take warning from the punishment of the many who have been
destroyed.”
The emperor then goes on to desire his lieutenant to rebuild the Temple
of the Sun as magnificently as it had been in times past; to expend 300
pounds weight of gold, which he had found in the coffers of Zenobia,
beside 1800 pounds weight of silver, which was raised from the sale of
the people’s goods; together with the crown jewels, all which he ordered
to be sold, to make money to beautify the temple; while he himself
promises to write to the Senate, to send a priest from Rome to dedicate
it. But, in the language of Gibbon, it is easier to destroy than it is
to restore.
Zenobia was now to be led to the conqueror’s triumph. This triumph was
celebrated with extraordinary magnificence. It was opened by twenty
elephants, four royal tigers, and above two hundred of the most curious
animals from every climate of the known world. Ambassadors from
Æthiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, attended the
triumph; and a long train of captives,—Goths, Vandals, Sarmatians,
Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Amongst these, Zenobia.
She was confined in fetters of gold; a slave supported the gold chain
which encircled her neck, and she almost fainted under the weight of her
jewels. She did not ride, but walk! preceded by the chariot in which she
had once indulged the vain hope of entering Rome as empress[62].
The Palmyrenes[63], says Zosimus, had several declarations from the
gods, which portended the overthrow of their empire; and, among others,
having consulted the temple of Apollo, at Seleucia in Cilicia, to know
if they should ever obtain the empire of the East, they got the
following unceremonious answer:
Avoid my temple, cursed, treacherous nation!
You even put the gods themselves in passion.
The religion of the Palmyrenes, it is evident, was pagan; their
government, for the most part, republican; but their laws are entirely
lost; nor can anything be known in respect to their polity, but what may
be gathered from the inscriptions. Their chief deity was the Sun.
In regard to their knowledge of art, they have left the finest specimens
in the ruins that now remain; and, doubtless, Longinus’ work on the
Sublime was written within its walls. “From these hints we may see,”
says Mr. Wood, “that this people copied after great models in their
manners, their vices, and their virtues. Their funeral customs were from
Egypt, their luxury was Persian, and their letters and arts were from
the Greeks. Their situation in the midst of these three great nations
makes it reasonable to suppose, that they adopted most of their customs
and manners. But to say more on that head from such scanty materials,
would be to indulge too much in mere conjecture, which seems rather the
privilege of the reader than of the writer.”
Some years after this, we find Diocletian erecting several buildings
here; but what they were is not stated. Justinian, also, repaired
Palmyra, which, according to Procopius, had been almost entirely
deserted. These repairs, however, are supposed to have reference rather
to strength than to ornament; and this is the last mention of Palmyra in
Roman history.
The various fortunes of Palmyra, to and from the time of Mahomet’s
appearance, are scarcely known, except that it was considered as a place
of great strength; and that in the twelfth century, A. D. 1171, there
were, according to Benjamin of Tudela, who visited the spot in that
year, two thousand Jews in it.
Palmyra, according to the Arabs, once occupied an area nearly ten miles
in circumference, and is supposed to have been reduced to its present
confined and ruined state by the quantities of sand[64] driven on it by
whirlwinds.
The walls of the city were flanked by square towers. They were three
miles in circumference, and it is imagined that they included the great
temple. What remains there are of the wall, do not look, according to
Mr. Wood, unlike the work of Justinian; and may be part of the repairs
mentioned by Procopius; and the highest antiquity anything else can
claim is the time of the Mamelukes.
A SHORT CHRONICLE OF PALMYRA.
(_From Sellerus_).
ANNO PERS. Palmyra, built by Solomon after he had finished
Jul. 3720. the temple of Jerusalem.
Mund. 3010.
P. J. 4125. Destroyed by Nebuchadnezzar, before he laid
M. 3415. siege to Jerusalem.
P. J. 4673. Pillaged by Mark Antony.
M. 3963.
V. C. Varr.
713, ante
Christ 41.
Anno Christi Hadrian, Imp. 6, went into the East, and is supposed
122. to have rebuilt Palmyra; in consequence
of which it assumed the name of Hadrianople.
At this period Malenthon was a second time
secretary of the city.
264. Odenathus, having roused the Persians, is declared
Augustus by Gallienus.
267. Odenathus, with his son Herodianus, slain by
Mæonius, who assumes the sovereignty of
Palmyra; but is himself slain a few days
after. Then Zenobia assumes the empire in
her own name, and those of her sons.
Circa 216. Palmyra made a Roman colony by Caracalla, in
his expedition into Parthia.
227. The republic assisted Alexander Severus against
Artaxerxes, king of Persia; Zenobia being
their general.
242/3. The republic assisted Gordian against the Persians.
260. Valerian taken prisoner by Sapor, king of
Persia.
A. D. 267/8. Zenobia routed Gallienus’s general, Herodianus.
Vabellathus assumes the empire.
263. Claudius chosen emperor of Rome.
270. Zenobia conquers Egypt by her general Zabdas.
272. Palmyra taken by Aurelian.
273. Zenobia follows in the triumph of Aurelian at
Rome.
298. Hierocles, governor of Palmyra, under Dioclesian.
527/8. Justinian repairs and fortifies Palmyra.
634/9. Palmyra subjected by the Mahometans; Jabala,
the son of Al Ilum, being then lord of Tadmor,
and king of Gassan.
659. The battle of Tadmor, between Datracus and
Adis.
746. Solyman, the pseudo-caliph, beaten by Merwan,
fled to Tadmor.
1172. Palmyra visited by Benjamin of Tudela.
1678. Palmyra visited by some English merchants,
attended by forty servants and muleteers, who
first informed Europe, that such splendid ruins
as those of Tadmor were in existence. At this
time Melbam was Emir.
1691. The English merchants visit Palmyra a second
time; the Emir being Hassine.
1693. Dôr, Emir of Palmyra[65].
We shall now give place to accounts in respect to the first impressions,
made by these ruins on the minds of different travellers.
Mr. Halifax says[66], “the city itself appears to have been of a large
extent by the space now taken up by the ruins;” but that there are no
footsteps of any walls remaining, nor is it possible to judge of the
ancient figure of the place. The present inhabitants, as they are poor,
miserable, dirty people, so they have shut themselves up, to the number
of about thirty or forty families, in little huts made of dirt, within
the walls of a spacious court, which inclosed a most magnificent heathen
temple: thereinto also Mr. Halifax’s party entered, the whole village
being gathered together at the door; whether to stand upon their defence
in case the strangers proved enemies (for some of them had guns in their
hands), or out of mere curiosity to gaze, he knew not. However the
guide, who was an Arab whom Assyne their king had sent to conduct them
through the village, being a man known among them, they had an easy
admittance; and, with a great many welcomes in their language, were led
to the sheik’s house, with whom they took up their abode. “And to
mention here what the place at first view represented, certainly the
world itself could not afford the like mixture of remains of greatest
state and magnificence, together with the extremity of poverty and
wretchedness.” The nearest parallel Mr. Halifax could think of, was that
of the temple of Baal, destroyed by Jehu, and converted into a
draught-house.
“We had scarce passed the sepulchres,” says Mr. Wood, “when the hills
opening discovered to us all at once the greatest quantity of ruins we
had ever seen, all of white marble; and beyond them, towards the
Euphrates, a flat waste as far as the eye could reach, without any
object that showed either life or motion.”
When Mr. Wood’s party arrived, they were conducted to one of the huts,
of which there were about thirty, in the court of the great temple. The
inhabitants of both sexes were well-shaped, and the women, though very
swarthy, had good features. They were veiled; but did not so
scrupulously conceal their faces as the Eastern women generally do. They
paint the ends of their fingers red, their lips blue, and their eyebrows
and eyelashes black[67].
They had large rings of gold or brass in their ears and nostrils, and
appeared to be healthy and robust.
The ruins were next visited by Mr. Bruce:—“When we arrived at the top
of the hill,” says he, “there opened before us, the most astonishing,
stupendous, sight, that perhaps ever appeared to mortal sight. The whole
plain below, which was very extensive, was covered so thick with
magnificent ruins, as the one seemed to touch the other, all of fine
proportions, all of agreeable forms, all composed of white stone, which,
at that distance, appeared like marble. At the end of it stood the
Palace of the Sun, a building worthy so magnificent a scene.”
The effect on the imagination of Mr. Addison appears to have been
equally lively:—“At the end of the sandy plain,” says he, “the eye
rests upon the lofty columns of the Temple of the Sun, encompassed by a
dark elevated mass of ruined buildings; and beyond, all around, and
right and left towards the Euphrates, as far as the eye can reach,
extends the vast level naked flat of the great desert, over which the
eye runs in every direction, piercing the boundless horizon, without
discovering a human being or a trace of man. Naked, solitary, unlimited
space extends around, where man never breathes under the shade, or rests
his limbs under the cover of a dwelling. A deep blue tint spreads along
its surface, here and there shaded with a cast of brown; the distant
outline of the horizon is clear and sharply defined; not an eminence
rises to break the monotonous flat, and along the edge extends a large
district covered with salt, distinguished from the rest by its peculiar
colour.
“There is something grand and awe-inspiring in its boundless immensity.
Like the first view of the ocean, it inspires emotions, never before
experienced, unearthly in appearance, and out of character with the
general fair face of nature. The eye shrinks from contemplating the
empty, cheerless solitude, and we turn away in quest of some object to
remove the scenes of utter loneliness, that its gloomy aspect is
calculated to inspire.”
From these pages we turn with satisfaction to those of an American:—“I
have stood before the Parthenon, and have almost worshipped that divine
achievement of the immortal Phidias. I have been at Milan, at Ephesus,
at Alexandria, at Antioch; but in none of these renowned cities I have
beheld any thing, that I can allow to approach in united extent,
grandeur, and most consummate beauty, this almost more than work of man.
On each side of this, the central point, there rose upward slender
pyramids—pointed obelisks—domes of the most graceful proportions,
columns, arches, and lofty towers, for number and for form, beyond my
power to describe. These buildings, as well as the walls of the city,
being all either of white marble, or of some stone as white, and being
everywhere in their whole extent interspersed, as I have already said,
with multitudes of overshadowing palm trees, perfectly filled and
satisfied my sense of beauty, and made me feel, for the moment, as if in
such a scene I should love to dwell, and there end my days.”
Burckhardt speaks thus of Palmyra and Balbec:—“Having seen the ruins of
Tadmor, a comparison between these two renowned remains of antiquity
naturally offered itself to my mind. The temple of the Sun at Tadmor, is
upon a grander scale than that of Balbec, but it is choked with Arab
houses, which admit only a view of the building in detail. The
architecture of Balbec is richer than that of Tadmor.”
In respect to the ruins, we must content ourselves with giving a very
general account, as it would be impossible to render a minute
description intelligible without the aid of plates.[68] Our account will
be a compilation from those given by Mr. Halifax, Mr. Wood, Mr. Bruce,
Mr. Addison, and other writers, who have been there.
The entire number of distinct buildings, which may still be traced, are
from forty to fifty. To the northward of the valley of the tombs, on the
highest eminence in the immediate vicinity, towers the ruined Turkish or
Saracenic castle. It is seated on the very summit of the mountain, and
surrounded by a deep ditch, cut out of the solid rock. It is said by the
Arabs to have been built by Man Ogle, a prince of the Druses; its
deserted chambers and passages partake of the universal solitude and
silence; there is not a living thing about it; it seems to be deserted
even by the bats.
From this castle is seen an extensive view round about: you see Tadmor
under you, inclosed on three sides with long ridges of mountains, which
open towards the east gradually, to the distance of about an hour’s
riding; but to the east stretches a vast plain beyond the reach of the
eye. In this plain you see a large valley of salt, lying about an hour’s
distance from the city[69].
It is imagined by the Persians that this castle, as well as the
edifices at Balbec, were built by genii, for the purposes of hiding in
their subterranean caverns immense treasures, which still remain
there[70]. “All these things,” said one of the Arabs to Mr. Wood, “were
done by Solyman ebn Doud, (Solomon, the son of David,) by the assistance
of spirits.”
But of all the monuments of art and magnificence, the most considerable
is the Temple of the Sun.
This temple, says Bruce, is very much ruined; of its peristyle there
only remains[70] a few columns entire, Corinthian, fluted and very
elegant, though apparently of slenderer proportions than ten diameters.
Their capitals are quite destroyed. The ornament of the outer gate are,
some of them, of great beauty, both as to execution and design.
Within the court are the remains of two rows of very noble marble
pillars, thirty-seven feet high. The temple was encompassed with another
row of pillars, fifty feet high; but the temple itself was only
thirty-three yards in length, and thirteen or fourteen in breadth. This
is now converted into a mosque, and ornamented after the Turkish manner.
North of this place is an OBELISK, consisting of seven large stones,
besides its capital, and the wreathed work above it, about fifty feet
high, and just above the pedestal twelve in circumference. Upon this was
probably a statue, which the Turks have destroyed.
On the west side is a most magnificent arch, on the remains of which
are some vines and clusters of grapes, carved in the boldest imitation
of nature that can be conceived.
Just over the door are discerned a pair of wings, which extend its whole
breadth; the body to which they belong is totally destroyed, and it
cannot now certainly be known, whether it was that of an eagle or of a
cherub, several representations of both being visible on other fragments
of the building.
The north end of the building is adorned with a curious fret-work and
bas-relief; and in the middle there is a dome or cupola, about ten feet
in diameter, which appears to have been either hewn out of the rock, or
moulded of some composition, which, by time, is grown equally hard.
At about the distance of a mile from the OBELISK are two others, besides
the fragment of a third; hence it has been reasonably suggested, that
they were a continued row.
Every spot of ground intervening between the walls and columns, is laid
out in plantations of corn and olives, inclosed by mud walls.
In the direction of the mountains lie fragments of stone, here and there
columns stand erect, and clumps of broken pillars are met with at
intervals. All this space seems to have been covered with small temples
and ornamental buildings, approached by colonnades.
Next to the temple, the most remarkable structure is the long portico,
which commences about two thousand two hundred feet to the north-west of
the temple, and extends for nearly four thousand feet further in the
same direction. “It is a remark worthy the observation of historians,”
says Volney, “that the front of the portico has twelve pillars like that
at Balbec; but what artists will esteem still more curious is that these
two fronts resemble the gallery of the house built by Perrault, long
before the existence of the drawing which made us acquainted with them.
The only difference is, that the columns of the Louvre are double,
whereas those of Palmyra are detached.”
About one hundred paces from the middle obelisk, straight forward, is a
magnificent entry to a piazza, which is forty feet broad and more than
half a mile in length, inclosed with two rows of marble pillars,
twenty-six feet high, and eight or nine feet in compass. Of these there
still remain one hundred and twenty-nine; and, by a moderate
computation, there could not, originally, have been less than five
hundred and sixty. The upper end of the piazza was shut in by a row of
pillars, standing somewhat closer than those on each side.
A little to the left are the ruins of a stately building, which appears
to have been a _banqueting-house_. It is built of better marble, and is
finished with greater elegance, than the piazza. The pillars which
supported it were one entire stone, which is so strong that one of them,
which has fallen down, has received no injury. It measures twenty-two
feet in length, and in compass eight feet nine inches.
In the west side of the piazza are several apertures for gates, into the
court of the palace. Each of these is adorned with four porphyry
pillars; not standing in a line with those of the wall, but placed by
couples in the front of the gate facing the palace, on each side. Two of
these only remain, and but one standing in its place. These are thirty
feet long, and nine in circumference.
“We sometimes find a palace,” says Volney, “of which nothing remains but
the courts and walls; sometimes a temple, whose peristyle is half thrown
down; and now a portico, a gallery, or a triumphant arch. Here stand
groups of columns, whose symmetry is destroyed by the fall of many of
them; these we see ranged in rows of such length, that, similar to rows
of trees, they deceive the sight, and assume the appearance of continued
walls. On which side soever we look, the earth is strewed with vast
stones, half buried, with broken entablatures, damaged capitals,
mutilated friezes, disfigured reliefs, effaced sculptures, violated
tombs, and altars defiled with mud.”
“In their ruined courts,” says another traveller, “and amid the
crumbling walls of their cottages, may be seen, here and there, portions
of the ancient pavement of the area; while all around the inclosure
extend groups of columns, with pedestals for statues, and walls
ornamented with handsome architectural decorations, the ruins of the
majestic portico and double colonnade, which once inclosed the whole of
the vast area. Portions of a frieze, or the fragments of a cornice, upon
whose decoration was expended the labour of years, are now used by the
poor villagers to bake their bread upon, or are hollowed out as
hand-mills, in which to grind their corn.”
Among the walls and rubbish are a vast number of lizards and serpents;
and that circumstance led to the celebrated poetic picture painted by
Darwin.
Lo! where PALMYRA, ’mid her wasted plains,
Her shattered aqueducts, and prostrate fanes,
As the bright orb of breezy midnight pours
Long threads of silver through her gaping towers,
O’er mouldering tombs, and tottering columns gleams,
And frosts her deserts with diffusive beams,
Sad o’er the mighty wreck in silence bends,
Lifts her wet eyes, her tremulous hands extends.
If from lone cliffs a bursting rill expands
Its transient course, and sinks into the sands;
O’er the moist rock the fell hyena prowls,
The serpent hisses, and the panther growls;
On quivering wings the famished vulture screams,
Dips his dry beak, and sweeps the gushing streams.
With foaming jaws beneath, and sanguine tongue,
Laps the lean wolf, and pants, and runs along;
Stern stalks the lion, on the rustling brinks
Hears the dread snake, and trembles as he drinks.
Quick darts the scaly monster o’er the plain,
Fold after fold his undulating train;
And, bending o’er the lake his crested brow,
Starts at the crocodile that gapes below.—DARWIN.
On the eastern side of the area of the Temple of the Sun, there is a
curious doorway of one solid block of stone, which commands a fine view
of the desert. “As we looked out of this narrow gateway,” says Mr.
Addison, “we fancied, that Zenobia herself might have often stood at the
same spot, anxiously surveying the operations of Aurelian and his
blockading army. From hence the eye wanders over the level waste, across
which the unfortunate queen fled on her swift dromedary to the
Euphrates; and here, the morning after her departure, doubtless
congregated her anxious friends, to see if she was pursued in her
flight; and from hence she was probably first descried, being brought
back a captive and a prisoner in the hands of the Roman horsemen.”