I fly to the walls._Zenobia; or, the Fall of Palmyra

* * * * *

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 elated 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 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 grain, 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. Periander

pronounces the city impregnable. My own judgment, formed upon a comparison

of it with the cities most famous in the world for the strength of their

defences, would agree with his.

Following on in the wake of the squadron to which Fausta was attached, I

wished to reach the camp at the same time with herself and Gracchus and

my brother, but owing to the press in the streets, arising from the

causes just specified, I was soon separated from, and lost sight of it.

Desirous however to meet them, I urged my way along with much labor till

I reached the quarter of the city assigned to the troops, where I found

the tents and the open ground already occupied. I sought in vain for

Fausta. While I waited, hoping still to see her, I stood leaning upon a

pile of shields, which the soldiers, throwing off their arms, had just

made, and watching them as they were, some disencumbering themselves of

their armor, others unclasping the harness of their horses, others

arranging their weapons into regular forms, and others, having gone

through their first tasks, were stretching themselves at rest beneath the

shadow of their tents, or of some branching tree. Near me sat a soldier,

who, apparently too fatigued to rid himself of his heavy armor, had

thrown himself upon the ground, and was just taking off his helmet, and

wiping the dust and sweat from his face, while a little boy, observing

his wants, ran to a neighboring fountain, and filling a vessel with

water, returned and held it to him, saying, 'Drink, soldier this will

make you stronger than your armor.'

'You little traitor,' said the soldier,' art not ashamed to bring drink to

me, who have helped to betray the city? Beware, or a sharp sword will cut

you in two.'

'I thought,' replied the child, nothing daunted, 'that you were a soldier

of Palmyra, who had been to fight the Romans. But whoever you may be, I am

sure you need the water.'

'But,' rejoined the soldier, swallowing at long draughts as if it had been

nectar, the cooling drink, 'do I deserve water, or any of these cowards

here, who have been beaten by the Romans, and so broken the heart of our

good Queen, and possibly lost her her throne? Answer me that.'

'You have done what you could, I know,' replied the boy, 'because you

are a Palmyrene, and who can do more? I carry round the streets of the

city in this palm-leaf basket, date cakes, which I sell to those who

love them. But does my mother blame me because I do not always come home

with an empty basket? I sell what I can. Should I be punished for doing

what I cannot?'

'Get you gone, you rogue,' replied the soldier; 'you talk like a Christian

boy, and they have a new way of returning good for evil. But here, if you

have cakes in your basket, give me one and I will give you a penny all the

way from Antioch. See! there is the head of Aurelian on it. Take care he

don't eat you up--or at least your cakes. But hark you, little boy, do you

see yonder that old man with a bald head, leaning against his shield? go

to him with your cakes.'

The boy ran off.

'Friend,' said I, addressing him, 'your march has not lost you your

spirits; you can jest yet.'

'Truly I can. If the power to do that were gone, then were all lost. A

good jest in a time of misfortune is food and drink. It is strength to the

arm, digestion to the stomach, courage to the heart. It is better than

wisdom or wine. A prosperous man may afford to be melancholy, but if the

miserable are so, they are worse than dead--but it is sure to kill them.

Near me I had a comrade whose wit it was alone that kept life in me upon

the desert. All the way from Emesa, had it not been for the tears of

laughter, those of sorrow and shame would have killed me.'

'But in the words of the little cake urchin, you did what you could. The

fates were opposed to you.'

'If all had done as much and as well as some, we would have had the fates

in our own keeping. Had it not been for that artifice of the Romans at

Antioch, we, had now been rather in Rome than here, and it was a woman--or

girl rather, as I am told--the daughter of Gracchus, who first detected

the cheat, and strove to save the army, but it was too late.'

'Were you near her?'

'Was I not? Not the great Zabdas himself put more mettle into the troops

than did that fiery spirit and her black horse. And beyond a doubt, she

would have perished through an insane daring, had not the Queen in time

called her from the field, and afterward kept her within her sight and

reach. Her companion, a Roman turned Palmyrene as I heard, was like one

palsied when she was gone, till when, he had been the very Mars of the

field. As it was, he was the true hero of the day. He brought to my mind

Odenatus, 'Twas so he looked that day we entered Ctesiphon I could wish,

and hope too, that he might share the throne of Zenobia, but that all the

world knows what a man-hater she is. But were you not there?'

'No. It could not be. I remained in the city.'

'Ten thousand more of such men as you--and we would not have fallen back

upon Emesa, nor left Antioch without the head of Aurelian. But alas for

it, the men of Palmyra are men of silk, and love their pleasures too well

to be free. I should call them women, but for Zenobia and the daughter of

Gracchus.'

'Do not take me for one of them. I am a Roman--and could not fight against

my country.'

'A Roman! and what makes you here? Suppose I were to run you through with

this spear?'

'Give me another and you are welcome to try.'

'Am I so? Then will I not do it. Give a man his will and he no longer

cares for it. Besides, having escaped with hazard from the clutches of one

Roman, I will not encounter another. Dost thou know that demon Aurelian?

Half who fell, fell by his hand. His sword made no more of a man in steel

armor, than mine would of a naked slave. Many a tall Palmyrene did he

split to the saddle, falling both ways. The ranks broke and fled wherever

he appeared. Death could not keep pace with him. The Roman Piso--of our

side--sought him over the field, to try his fortune with him, but the gods

protected him, and he found him not: otherwise his body were now food for

hyenas. No arm of mortal mould can cope with his, Mine is not despicable:

there is not its match in Palmyra: but I would not encounter Aurelian

unless I were in love with death.'

'It is as you say, I well know. He is reputed in our army to have killed

more with his single arm in battle, than any known in Roman history. Our

camp resounds with songs which celebrate his deeds of blood. His slain are

counted by thousands, nothing less.'

'The gods blast him, ere he be seen before the walls of Palmyra; our

chance were better against double the number of legions under another

general. The general makes the soldier. The Roman infantry are so many

Aurelians. Yet to-morrow's sun will see him here. I am free to say, I

tremble for Palmyra. A war ill begun, will, if auguries are aught, end

worse. Last night the sky was full of angry flashes, both white and red.

While the army slept over-wrought upon the desert, and the silence of

death was around, the watches heard sounds as of the raging of a battle,

distinct and clear, dying away in groans as of a host perishing under the

sword and battle-axe. These horrid sounds at length settled over the

sleeping men, till it seemed as if they proceeded from them. The

sentinels--at first struck dumb with terror and amazement--called out to

one another to know what it should mean, but they could only confirm to

each other what had been heard, and together ask the protection of the

gods. But what strikes deeper yet, is what you have heard, that the

Queen's far-famed Numidian, just as we came in sight of the walls of the

city, stumbled, and where he stumbled, fell and died. What these things

forebode, if not disaster and ruin, 'tis hard to say. I need no one to

read them to me.'

Saying thus, he rose and began to divest himself of the remainder of his

heavy armor, saying, as he did it--'It was this heavy armor that lost us

the day at Antioch--lighter, and we could have escaped the meshes. Now let

me lie and sleep.'

Returning, hardly had I arrived at the house of Gracchus, when it was

announced in loud shouts by the slaves of the palace, that Gracchus

himself, Fausta and Calpurnius were approaching. I hastened to the portico

overlooking the court-yard, and was there just in season to assist Fausta

to dismount. It was a joyful moment I need scarce assure you. Fausta

returns wholly unhurt. Gracchus is wounded upon his left, and Calpurnius

upon his right arm--but will not long suffer from the injury.

It was an unspeakable joy, once more to hear the cheerful voice of

Gracchus resounding in the walls of his own dwelling, and to see Fausta,

eased of her unnatural load of iron, again moving in her accustomed sphere

in that graceful costume, partly Roman and partly Persian, and which now

hides and now betrays the form, so as to reveal its beauty in the most

perfect manner. A deep sadness, deeper than ever, sits upon her

countenance, whenever her own thoughts occupy her. But surrounded by her

friends, her native spirit, too elastic to be subdued, breaks forth, and

she seems her former self again.

Our evening meal was sad, but not silent.

Gracchus instructed me, by giving a minute narrative of the march to

Antioch--of the two battles--and the retreat. Calpurnius related with

equal exactness the part which he took, and the services which Fausta, by

her penetrating observation, had been able to render to the army. They

united in bestowing the highest encomiums upon Zenobia, who herself

planned the battle, and disposed the forces, and with such consummate

judgment, that Zabdas himself found nothing to disapprove or alter.

'The day was clearly ours,' said Fausta, 'but for the artifice of

Aurelian--allowable, I know, by all the rules of war--by which we were led

on blindfold to our ruin. But flushed as we were by the early and complete

success of the day, is it to be severely condemned that our brave men

followed up their advantages with too much confidence, and broke from that

close order, in which till then, they had fought; and by doing so, lost

the command of themselves and their own strength? O, the dulness of our

spirits, that we did not sooner detect the rank insincerity of that

sudden, unexpected retreat of the Roman horse!'

'The gods rather be praised,' said Gracchus, 'that your watchful eye

detected so soon, what was too well concerted and acted to be perceived at

all, and that as the fruit of it we sit here alive, and Zenobia holds her

throne, and so many of our brave soldiers are now locked in sleep beneath

their quiet tents.'

'That, I think,' said Calpurnius, 'is rather the sentiment that should

possess us. You will hardly believe, Lucius, that it was owing to the

military genius of your ancient playmate, that we escaped the certain

destruction that had been prepared for us?'

'I can believe any thing good in that quarter, and upon slighter

testimony. I have already heard from the lips of a soldier of your legion,

that which you have now related. Part of the praise was by him bestowed

upon one Piso, a Roman turned Palmyrene as he termed him, who, he

reported, fought at the side of the daughter of Gracchus.'

'He could not have said too much of that same Piso,' said Gracchus.

'Palmyra owes him a large debt of gratitude, which I am sure she will not

be slow to pay. But let us think rather of the future than of the past,

which, however we may have conducted, speaks only of disaster.'

I thank you for your assurances concerning Laco and Coelia. Your

conscience will never reproach you for this lenity.

Letter XIV.

The last days of this so lately favored empire draw near--at least such is

my judgment. After a brief day of glory, its light will set in a long

night of utter darkness and ruin.

Close upon the rear guard of the Queen's forces followed the light troops

of Aurelian, and early this morning it was proclaimed that the armies of

Rome were in sight, and fast approaching the city. These armies were

considered too numerous to hazard another battle, therefore the gates

were shut, and we are now beleaguered by a power too mighty to contend

with, and which the Arabs, the climate, and want, must be trusted to

subdue. The circumjacent plains are filled with the legions of Rome.

Exhausted, by the march across the desert, they have but pitched their

tents, and now repose.

The Queen displays more than ever her accustomed activity and energy. She

examines in person every part of the vast extent of wall, and every engine

planted upon them for their defence. By her frequent presence in every

part of the city she inspires her soldiers with the same spirit which

possesses herself; and for herself, to behold her careering through the

streets of the city, reviewing, and often addressing, the different

divisions of the army, and issuing her commands, she seems rather like one

who is now Queen of the East, and is soon to be of the world, than one

whose dominion is already narrowed down to the compass of a single city,

and may shortly be deprived even of that. The lofty dignity of her air

has assumed a more imposing greatness still. The imperial magnificence of

her state is noways diminished, but rather increased, so that by a sort of

delusion of the senses, she seems more a Queen than ever. By her native

vigor and goodness, and by the addition of a most consummate art, by which

she manages as she will a people whom she perfectly comprehends, she is at

this moment more deeply intrenched within the affections of her subjects,

and more completely the object of their idolatrous homage than ever

before. Yet in her secret soul there is a deep depression, and a loss of

confidence in her cause, which amounts not yet to a loss of hope, but

approaches it. This is seen by those who can observe her in her more quiet

hours, when the glare of public action and station is off, and her mind is

left to its own workings. But, like those who play at dice, she has staked

all--her kingdom, her crown--her life perhaps--upon a single throw, and

having wound herself up to the desperate act, all the entreaty or argument

of the whole earth could not move her to unclasp the hand that wields the

fatal box. She will abide the throw.

There are still those who use both intreaty and argument to persuade her

even at this late hour to make the best terms she may with Rome. Otho,

though perfectly loyal and true, ceases not to press upon her, both in

public and in private, those considerations which may have any weight with

her to induce a change of measures. But it has thus far been to no

purpose. Others there are who, as the danger increases, become more and

more restless, and scruple not to let their voice be heard in loud

complaint and discontent, but they are too few in proportion to the whole,

to make them objects of apprehension. It will however be strange if, as

the siege is prolonged, they do not receive such accessions of strength as

to render them dangerous.

The Emperor has commenced his attacks upon the city in a manner that shows

him unacquainted with its strength. The battle has raged fiercely all day,

with great loss we infer to the Romans, with none we know to the

Palmyrenes.

Early on the morning of the second day it was evident that a general

assault was to be made. The Roman army completely surrounded the city, at

the same signal approached, and under cover of their shields, attempted

both to undermine and scale the walls. But their attempts were met with

such vigor, and with such advantage of action by the besieged, that

although repeated many times during the day, they have resulted in only

loss and death to the assailants. 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 them 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 fiery 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 terrible to behold.

Nevertheless, the next day the same attempts were renewed, in the hope, we

supposed, that the Queen's missiles might be expended, but were defeated

again in the same manner and with like success.

These things being so, and Aurelian being apparently convinced that the

city cannot be taken by storm, the enemy are now employed in surrounding

it with a double ditch and rampart, as defences both against us and our

allies, between which the army is to be safely encamped; an immense labor,

to which I believe a Roman army is alone equal. While this has been doing,

the Palmyrenes have made frequent sallies from the gates, greatly

interrupting the progress of the work, and inflicting severe losses. These

attacks have usually been made at night, when the soldiers have been

wearied by the exhausting toil of the day, and only a small proportion of

the whole have been in a condition to ward off the blows.

* * * * *

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, 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

terrible to behold.