man. Aurelian, before to-morrow's sun has set, will himself
repent it. What a single night has destroyed, a century could
not restore. This blighted and ruined capital, as long as its
crumbling remains shall attract the gaze of the traveller,
will utter a blasting malediction upon the name and memory
of Aurelian. Hereafter he will be known, not as conqueror of
the East, and the restorer of the Roman Empire, but as the
executioner of Longinus and the ruthless destroyer of Palmyra.'"
After Aurelian has again departed with his army for Rome, the noble
Piso and Fausta re-visit the devoted capital. How horribly graphic
the description of its desolation:
"For more than a mile before we reached the gates, the roads,
and the fields on either hand, were strewed with the bodies
of those who, in their attempts to escape, had been overtaken
by the enemy and slain. Many a group of bodies did we notice,
evidently those of a family, the parents and the children,
who, hoping to reach in company some place of security, had
all--and without resistance apparently--fallen a sacrifice
to the relentless fury of their pursuers. Immediately in the
vicinity of the walls and under them, the earth was concealed
from the eye by the multitudes of the slain, and all objects
were stained with the one hue of blood. Upon passing the gates
and entering within those walls which I had been accustomed to
regard as embracing in their wide and graceful sweep, the most
beautiful city of the world, my eye met naught but black and
smoking ruins, fallen houses and temples, the streets choked
with piles of still blazing timbers and the half-burned bodies
of the dead. As I penetrated farther into the heart of the
city, and to its better built and more spacious quarters, I
found the destruction to be less--that the principal streets
were standing, and many of the more distinguished structures.
But every where--in the streets--upon the porticos of private
and public dwellings--upon the steps and within the very walls
of the temples of every faith--in all places, the most sacred
as well as the most common, lay the mangled carcasses of the
wretched inhabitants. None, apparently, had been spared. The
aged were there, with their bald or silvered heads--little
children and infants--women, the young, the beautiful, the
good--all were there, slaughtered in every imaginable way, and
presenting to the eye spectacles of horror and of grief enough
to break the heart and craze the brain. For one could not but
go back to the day and the hour when they died, and suffer with
these innocent thousands, a part of what they suffered when the
gates of the city giving way, the infuriated soldiery poured
in, and with death written in their faces and clamoring on
their tongues, their quiet houses were invaded, and resisting
or unresisting, they all fell together beneath the murderous
knives of the savage foe. What shrieks then rent and filled
the air--what prayers of agony went up to the gods for life to
those whose ears on mercy's side were adders'--what piercing
supplications that life might be taken and honor spared. The
apartments of the rich and the noble presented the most
harrowing spectacles, where the inmates, delicately nurtured
and knowing of danger, evil, and wrong only by name and report,
had first endured all that nature most abhors, and then
there where their souls had died, were slain by their brutal
violators with every circumstance of most demoniac cruelty.
Happy for those who, like Gracchus, foresaw the tempest and
fled. These calamities have fallen chiefly upon the adherents
of Antiochus; but among them, alas! were some of the noblest
and most honored families of the capital. Their bodies now lie
blackened and bloated upon their door-stones--their own halls
have become their tombs."
The next letter is from Piso, at Rome, to Fausta, at Palmyra,
descriptive of Aurelian's triumphant entry into Rome. We cannot
resist the inclination to place this magnificent picture before our
readers:
"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 arrayed so 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 the most precious woods of India. The jewelled wine
cups, vases, and golden statuary 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 for ever. 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 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 transcendant 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, heart-breaking 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 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."
In the letter which closes the volumes, Piso, who is now married to
the noble Fausta, describes a visit to Zenobia, at a magnificent
villa on the Tiber, to which Aurelian has humanely caused to be
brought and arranged every article of use or luxury found in the
palace at Palmyra, which was capable of transportation. The exiled
Queen, however, dwells sadly 'upon glories that are departed for
ever; and is able to anticipate no other, or greater, in this world:
"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."
Let no reader be tempted, from the copiousness of our extracts, to
forego the pleasure of perusing these volumes in their entire form.
We have given but the outline, merely, of that portion which has not
appeared at large in our pages; preserving, indeed, the main events,
but leaving untouched the delightful under-current of tributary
incidents, and that vein of calm philosophical and moral reasoning,
which every where pervade the work.
In conclusion, we cordially and confidently commend these volumes to
our readers, with the hope soon again to find the writer gleaning in
the great vineyard of the past; for surely, his mind is not of so
light a soil as to be exhausted by one crop, how rich soever that
product may be.
* * * * *
NATIONAL STANDARD OF COSTUME.--A Lecture on the Changes of
Fashion. Delivered before the Portsmouth (N. H.) Lyceum, By
CHARLES W. BREWSTER.
OUR thanks are due to the Portsmouth Lyceum for a copy of this very
entertaining and instructive pamphlet, in which an important topic is
ably discussed. The writer came to his task well prepared, by a great
number of facts, pertinent illustrative incidents, and anecdotes,
to do it full justice; and he has amply succeeded. Although we have
little hope that the crying evil which he exposes will ever cease to
be injuriously operative on all classes in America, we cannot refrain
from yielding our tribute of praise and admiration to the good sense
and sound reasoning of the first pioneer in a cause so commendable.
After showing that in the early days of the Jews, the fashion of
garments was fixed, and that the costumes of the Chinese, the Turks,
and the Moors, are the same now that they have been for centuries,
the writer observes:
"How would a Chinese be surprised, on a visit to the Republic,
who had formed his ideas of our costume from a picture drawn
from life only half a century since! He contemplates the
picture, and in his imagination he sees the American beaux with
their tri-cornered hats, flowing wigs, broad-skirted coats,
leather small clothes, pointed shoes, and broad bright buckles;
and the beautiful belles by their side, with the long waists
of their dresses, sleeves closely attached to their arms,
the ample skirts distended by a butt hoop, and their heels
elevated in such shoes as the fair heroines wore in '76, when
they slept up bravely in the world, by adding four inches to
their heel-taps! With this picture full before him, the Chinese
arrives on our shore, and in vain seeks for a single article of
dress the picture represented. He fancies the treacherous ship
has borne him to a wrong country, or becomes distrustful of the
painter's veracity. When told, that the _fashions change_ among
us, the Chinese hears with wonder, and in admiration of the
stability of his own celestial empire, exclaims: Is this the
effect of your liberal government? If the fickle nature of your
customs has been interwoven into your political institutions,
while China will live for ever, the _Republic_ itself will ere
long be laid aside as a thing _out of fashion_."
The following anecdote is given, as illustrative of the supremacy of
fashion:
"In 1813, Sir Humphrey Davy was permitted by Napoleon to visit
Paris. At that time it will be recollected, that every movement
of citizens was carefully watched, and that every assemblage
of people in public places was speedily dispersed by military
power, to prevent riots and revolutionary proceedings. While
the distinguished philosopher was attending the meeting of
the Institute, Lady Davy, attended by her maid, walked in
the public garden. She wore a very small hat, of a simple
cockleshell form, such as was fashionable in London at the
time; while the Parisian ladies wore bonnets of most voluminous
dimensions. It happened to be a saint's day, on which, the
shops being closed, the citizens repaired in crowds to the
garden. On seeing the diminutive bonnet of Lady Davy, the
Parisians felt little less surprise than did the inhabitants
of Brobdignag on beholding the hat of Gulliver; and a crowd
of persons soon assembled around the unknown exotic; in
consequence of which, one of the Inspectors of the Garden
immediately presented himself and informed her ladyship that no
cause for assemblage could be suffered, and therefore requested
her to retire. Some officers of the Imperial Guard, to whom
she appealed, replied, that however much they might regret the
circumstance, they were unable to afford her any redress, as
the order was peremptory. She then requested to be conducted
to her carriage; an officer immediately offered his arm; but
the crowd had by this time so greatly increased, that it became
necessary to send for a corporal's guard; and the party quitted
the garden, surrounded by fixed bayonets!"
To the justice of the subjoined, all reflecting minds will yield
ready assent. We would make a reservation, however, in the article of
_stocks_--a truly excellent and most comfortable invention:
"Paris is the fantastical seat of the fashions. The models
there formed are followed in England, where they are sometimes
improved upon--and are transferred, as regularly as articles of
merchandise, across the Atlantic. From the principal cities,
plates of the latest fashions, regulated by those prevailing in
the foreign courts, are transmitted at regular intervals, by
mail, to the principal towns throughout the United States, and
from these towns all the neighboring villages take their newest
fashions.
"The immediate adoption of the French fashions by other
nations, is not unfrequently a source of much merriment to the
inventors of them, and is a standing topic of amusement and
ridicule to the ladies of Paris; for it is not unfrequently the
case, that while the prints of costume, as they are prepared by
the French milliners and dress-makers, of the most absurd and
fantastical models, are seized upon and imitated in the dresses
of the English and Americans--these very prints are subjects of
sport to the Parisian ladies for their fantastical absurdity.
They regard them in the same light that we do the beads and
baubles which are sent to savage nations. With such worthless
trinkets we obtain from the savages their valuable furs, and
with trinkets of no greater real value, do the French extract
the hard earnings from the pockets of the American citizens.
"Had we the capacity of vision at one view to look
throughout the Union, and trace the course of fashion and
its metamorphosing effects upon society, the view would be
ludicrous indeed, and the changes no less unmeaning than
ridiculous. At one time we should see thousands of tri-cornered
hats thrown off, and as many heads covered with round ones--and
their places supplied in turn with the cap maker's fabric: at
another season, we should see a million half-worn coats laid
aside for moths to feed upon, to give place to some fashion
which has no higher merit than the sanction of some foreign
court: with another breeze across the Atlantic, another slight
commotion is seen throughout the land; and millions of cravats
are removed from their wonted location, that the willing necks
of American freemen, may be bound in the foreign _stocks_!
"We will, however, give you one fact, which has no imagination
about it. It is illustrative of what has been previously
stated, that the villages look for their fashions to the
principal towns in their neighborhoods, and that, however
independent they may feel of foreign political sway, few
Americans have ever yet had the bravery to declare independence
of foreign fashions, but meekly submit to what is _said_ to be
the _latest fashions_ in the place to which they look as their
emporium--whether such fashions indeed exist, or are imposed
upon them by cunning individuals, who 'by such craft do get
their wealth.'
"A few years since, a country trader in New-Hampshire, in
making purchases of a little of every thing for his store,
was offered, at a very low rate, a lot of coat buttons of the
fashion of half a century since, about the size of a dollar.
The keen-sighted trader, by the tailor's assistance, soon had
his own coat decorated with them. At home the lads needed no
better evidence of its being the latest fashion, than that
the trader had just come from the metropolis. The old buttons
went off at a great advance, and the village soon shone in
Revolutionary splendor! If the shining beaux _thought_ they
were dressed in the latest Parisian style, did they not feel as
well as though they really were so? And did the supercilious
eye with which they regarded the poor fellows who could not
afford buttons larger than a cent, beam less with aristocracy
than the exalted courtier's?
"One other illustrative anecdote occurs to us, which we cannot
forbear giving. A few years since, two young milliners, located
in a town in the interior of New-Hampshire, found it necessary
for their reputation to follow the example of almost every
milliner within fifty miles of the metropolis, and to go once a
year to Boston for the latest fashions. Among the thrown-aside
articles in a dry goods store, worthless from being out of
date, were about one hundred and fifty bonnets. The calculating
damsels, who had seen enough of the world to know that any
fashion would go with a proper introduction, and knowing
no good reason why they should remain useless in Boston,
kindly took them off the merchant's hands for _six cents_ per
bonnet. Arrived at home with their large stock of the '_latest
fashions_,' they were careful to finish and decorate a couple
in good style, and the next Sunday, (the day on which new
fashions are generally displayed,) the 'Boston fashion' was
whispered through the village--and not in vain; for it was not
long, before the whole stock was disposed of, at from nine
shillings to two dollars apiece! The distressing epidemic of a
_new fashion_ thus speedily swept off nearly every bonnet in
the village, of one year old and upwards--although many were in
good health, and showed no signs of decay, till the pestilence
began to rage."
Mr. Brewster cites numerous instances of ridiculous aping of foreign
fashions, by Americans, such as wearing in winter the summer hats of
Paris, because they were the '_latest_ fashion,' and, while laughing
at the folly of a hump-backed court around Richard the Third,
donning the '_bustle_,' and appearing as if broken-backed! Our author
talks of the large sleeves supping libations from tea-cups, and
revelling in sauces at the table. Bless his simple heart! Does he not
know that there are no large sleeves now? Would that he could see, of
a windy day, in Broadway, a tall and lank but _fashionable_ 'olden
maiden,'
'With form full lean and sum dele pyned away,
And eke with arms consuméd to the bone!'
He would find another evidence, that adaptation of dress to person
and figure is of slight moment to the follower of fashion, in
comparison with being in the mode.
In reply to the objection that permanency in fashion would tend to
throw thousands of _artistes_ and artizans out of employment, our
author observes: