We arrived here after a day's hard travel. The sensation occasioned by the
unexpected return of Gracchus seemed to cause a temporary forgetfulness of
their calamities on the part of the citizens. As we entered the city at
the close of the day, and they recognised their venerated friend, there
were no hounds to the tumultuous expressions of their joy. The whole city
was abroad. It were hard to say whether Fausta herself was more pained by
excess of pleasure, than was each citizen who thronged the streets as we
made our triumphal entry.
A general amnesty of the past having been proclaimed by Sandarion
immediately after the departure of Aurelian with the prisoners whom he
chose to select, we found Calpurnius already returned. At Fausta's side he
received us as we dismounted in the palace-yard. I need not tell you how
we passed our first evening. Yet it was one of very mixed enjoyment.
Fausta's eye, as it dwelt upon the beloved form of her father, seemed to
express unalloyed happiness. But then again, as it was withdrawn at those
moments when, his voice kept not her attention fixed upon himself, she
fell back upon the past and the lost, and the shadows of a deep sadness
would gather over her. So in truth was it with us all--especially, when at
the urgency of the rest, I related to them the interviews I had had with
Longinus, and described to them his behavior in the prison and at the
execution.
'I think,' said Fausta, 'that Aurelian, in the death of Longinus, has
injured his fame far more than by the capture of Zenobia and the reduction
of Palmyra he has added to it. Posterity will not readily forgive him for
putting out, in its meridian blaze, the very brightest light of the age.
It surely was an unnecessary act.'
'The destruction of prisoners, especially those of rank and influence,
is,' said I, 'according to the savage usages of war--and Aurelian defends
the death of Longinus by saying, that in becoming the first adviser of
Zenobia, he was no longer Longinus the philosopher, but Longinus the
minister and rebel.'
'That will be held,' she replied, 'as a poor piece of sophistry. He was
still Longinus. And in killing Longinus the minister, he basely slew
Longinus the renowned philosopher, the accomplished scholar, the man of
letters and of taste; the great man of the age; for you will not say that
either in Rome or Greece there now lives his equal.'
'Fausta,' said Gracchus, 'you are right. And had Aurelian been any more or
higher than a soldier, he would not have dared to encounter the odium of
the act; but in simple truth he was, I suppose, and is utterly insensible
to the crime he has committed, not against an individual or Palmyra, but
against the civilized world and posterity; a crime that will grow in its
magnitude as time rolls on, and will forever and to the remotest times
blast the fame and the name of him who did it. Longinus belonged to all
times and people, and by them will be avenged. Aurelian could not
understand the greatness of his victim, and was ignorant that he was
drawing upon himself a reproach greater than if he had sacrificed in his
fury the Queen herself, and half the inhabitants of Palmyra. He will find
it out when he reaches Rome. He will find himself as notorious there, as
the murderer of Longinus, as he will be as conqueror of the East.'
'There was one sentiment of Aurelian,' I said, 'which he expressed to me
when I urged upon him the sparing of Longinus, to which you must allow
some greatness to attach. I had said to him that it was greater to pardon
than to punish, and that for that reason--"Ah," he replied, interrupting
me, "I may not gain to myself the fame of magnanimity at the expense of
Rome. As the chief enemy of Rome in this rebellion, Rome requires his
punishment, and Rome is the party to be satisfied, not I."'
'I grant that there is greatness in the sentiment. If he was sincere, all
we can say is this--that he misjudged in supposing Rome to need the
sacrifice. She needed it not. There were enough heads like mine, of less
worth, that would do for the soldiers--for they are Rome in Aurelian's
vocabulary.'
'Men of humanity and of letters,' I replied, 'will, I suppose, decide upon
this question one way, politicians and soldiers another.'
'That, I believe,' rejoined Gracchus, 'is nearly the truth.'
When wearied by a prolonged conversation, we sought the repose of our
pillows; each one of us happier by a large and overflowing measure than
but two days before we had ever thought to be again.
The city is to all appearance tranquil and acquiescent under its bitter
chastisement. The outward aspect is calm and peaceful. The gates are
thrown open, and the merchants and traders are returning to the pursuits
of traffic; the gentry and nobles are engaged in refitting and
re-embellishing their rifled palaces; and the common people have returned
in quiet to the several channels of their industry.
I have made however some observations, which lead me to believe that all
is not so settled and secure as it seems to be, and that however the
greater proportion of the citizens are content to sit down patiently under
the rule of their new masters, others are not of their mind. I can
perceive that Antiochus, who under the general pardon proclaimed by
Sandarion has returned to the city, is the central point of a good deal of
interest among a certain class of citizens. He is again at the head of the
same licentious and desperate crew as before; a set of men, like himself,
large in their resources, lawless in their lives, and daring in the
pursuit of whatever object they set before them. To one who knows the men,
their habits and manners, it is not difficult to see that they are engaged
in other plans than appear upon the surface. Yet are their movements so
quietly ordered as to occasion no general observation or remark.
Sandarion, ignorant whence danger might be expected to arise, appears not
to indulge suspicions of one nor another. Indeed, from the smallness of
the garrison, from the whole manner both of the governor and those who are
under him, soldiers and others, it is evident that no thought of a rising
on the part of the populace has entered their minds.
* * * * *
A few days have passed, and Gracchus and Fausta, who inclined not to give
much heed to my observations, both think with me--indeed, to Gracchus
communication has been made of the existence of a plot to rescue the city
from the hands of the Romans, in which he has been solicited to join.
Antiochus himself has sought and obtained an interview with Gracchus.
Gracchus has not hesitated to reject all overtures from that quarter. We
thus learn that the most desperate measures are in agitation--weak and
preposterous too as they are desperate, and must in the end prove ruinous.
Antiochus, we doubt not, is a tool in the hands of others, but he stands
out as the head and centre of the conspiracy. There is a violent and a
strong party, consisting chiefly of the disbanded soldiers, but of some
drawn from every class of the inhabitants, whose object is by a sudden
attack to snatch the city from the Roman garrison; and placing Antiochus
on the throne, proclaim their independence again, and prepare themselves
to maintain and defend it. They make use of Antiochus because of his
connection with Zenobia, and the influence he would exert through that
prejudice, and because of his sway over other families among the richest
and most powerful, especially the two princes, Herennianus and
Timolaus--and because of his fool-hardiness. If they should fail, he, they
imagine, will be the only or the chief sacrifice--and he can well be
spared. If they succeed, it will be an easy matter afterward to dispose of
him, if his character or measures as their king should displease them, and
exalt some other and worthier in his room.
'And what, father,' said Fausta, 'said you to Antiochus?'
'I told him,' replied Gracchus, 'what I thought, that the plan struck me
not only as frantic and wild, but foolish--that I for myself should
engage in no plot of any kind, having in view any similar object, much
less in such a one as he proposed. I told him that if Palmyra was destined
ever to assert its supremacy and independence of Rome, it could not be for
many years to come, and then by watching for some favorable juncture in
the affairs of Rome in other parts of the world. It might very well
happen, I thought, that in the process of years, and when Palmyra had
wholly recruited her strength after her late and extreme sufferings--that
there might occur some period of revolution or inward commotion in the
Roman empire, such as would leave her remote provinces in a comparatively
unprotected state. Then would be the time for re-asserting our
independence; then we might spring upon our keepers with some good
prospect of overpowering them, and taking again to ourselves our own
government. But now, I tried to convince him, it was utter madness, or
worse, stupidity, to dream of success in such an enterprise. The Romans
were already inflamed and angry; not half appeased by the bloody offering
that had just been made; their strength was undiminished--for what could
diminish the strength of Rome?--and a rising could no sooner take place,
than her legions would again be upon us, and our sufferings might be
greater than ever. I entreated him to pause, and to dissuade those from
action who were connected with him. I did not hesitate to set before him a
lively picture of his own hazard in the affair; that he, if failure
ensued, would be the first victim. I urged moreover, that a few, as I held
his number to be, had no right to endanger, by any selfish and besotted
conduct, the general welfare, the lives and property of the citizens; that
not till he felt he had the voice of the people with him ought he to dare
to act; and that although I should not betray his councils to Sandarion, I
should to the people, unless I received from him ample assurance that no
movement should be made without a full disclosure of the project to all
the principal citizens, as representatives of the whole city.'
'And how took he all that?' we asked.
'He was evidently troubled at the vision I raised of his' own head borne
aloft upon a Roman pike, and not a little disconcerted at what I labored
to convince him were the rights of us all in the case. I obtained from him
in the end a solemn promise that he would communicate what I had said to
his companions, and that they would forbear all action till they had first
obtained the concurrence of the greater part of the city. I assured him
however, that in no case and under no conceivable circumstances could he
or others calculate upon any co-operation of mine. Upon any knowledge
which I might obtain of intended action, I should withdraw from the city.'
'It is a sad fate,' said Fausta, 'that having just escaped with our lives
and the bare walls of our city and dwellings from the Romans, we are now
to become the prey of a wicked faction among ourselves. But, can you trust
the word of Antiochus that he will give you timely notice if they go on to
prosecute the affair? Will they not now work in secret all the more, and
veil themselves even from the scrutiny of citizens?'
'I hardly think they can escape the watchful eyes that will be fixed upon
them,' replied Gracchus; 'nor do I believe that however inclined Antiochus
might be to deceive me, those who are of his party would agree to such
baseness. There are honorable men, however deluded, in his company.'
* * * * *
Several days have passed, and our fears are almost laid. Antiochus and the
princes have been seen as usual frequenting the more public streets,
lounging in the Portico, or at the places of amusement. And the evenings
have been devoted to gayety and pleasure--Sandarion himself, and the
officers of his legion, being frequent visiters at the palace of
Antiochus, and at that of the Cæsars, lately the palace of Zenobia.
During this interval we have celebrated with all becoming rites the
marriage of Fausta and Calpurnius, hastened at the urgency of Gracchus,
who feeling still very insecure of life, and doubtful of the continued
tranquillity of the city, wished to bestow upon Calpurnius the rights of a
husband, and to secure to Fausta the protection of one. Gracchus seems
happier and lighter of heart since this has been done--so do we all. It
was an occasion of joy, but as much of tears also. An event which we had
hoped to have been graced by the presence of Zenobia, Julia, and Longinus,
took place almost in solitude and silence. But of this I have written
fully to Portia.
* * * * *
That which we have apprehended has happened. The How has been struck, and
Palmyra is again, in name at least, free and independent.
Early on the morning after the marriage of Fausta, we were alarmed by the
sounds of strife and commotion in the streets--by the cries of those who
pursued, and of those who fled and fought. It was as yet hardly light. But
it was not difficult to know the cause of the uproar, or the parties
engaged. We seized our arms, and prepared ourselves for defence, against
whatever party, Roman or Palmyrene, should make an assault. The
preparation was however needless, for the contest was already decided. The
whole garrison, with the brave Sandarion at their head, has been
massacred, and the power of Palmyra is in the hands of Antiochus and his
adherents. There has been in truth no fighting, it has been the murder
rather of unprepared and defenceless men. The garrison was cut off in
detail while upon their watch by overwhelming numbers. Sandarion was
despatched in his quarters, and in his bed, by the very inhuman wretches
at whose tables he had just been feasted, from whom he had but a few hours
before parted, giving and receiving the signs of friendship. The cowardly
Antiochus it was who stabbed him as he sprang from his sleep, encumbered
and disabled by his night-clothes. Not a Roman has escaped with his life.
Antiochus is proclaimed king, and the streets of the city have resounded
with the shouts of this deluded people, crying, 'long live Antiochus!' He
has been borne in tumult to the great portico of the temple of the Sun,
where, with the ceremonies prescribed for the occasion, he has been
crowned king of Palmyra and of the East.
While these things were in progress--the now king entering upon his
authority, and the government forming itself--Gracchus chose and
acted his part.
'There is little safety,' he said, 'for me now, I fear, anywhere--but
least of all here. But were I secure of life, Palmyra is now to be a
desecrated and polluted place, and I would fain depart from it. I could
not remain in it, though covered with honor, to see Antiochus in the seat
of Zenobia, and Critias in the chair of Longinus. I must go, as I respect
myself and as I desire life. Antiochus will bear me no good will, and no
sooner will he have become easy in his seat and secure of his power, than
he will begin the work for which his nature alone fits him, of
cold-blooded revenge, cruelty, and lust. I trust indeed that his reign
will end before that day shall arrive--but it may not--and it will be best
for me and for you, my children, to remove from his sight. If he sees us
not, he may forget us.'
We all gladly assented to the plan which he then proposed. It was to
withdraw privately as possible to one of his estates in the neighborhood
of the city, and there await the unfolding of the scenes that remained yet
to be enacted. The plan was at once carried into effect. The estate to
which we retreated was about four Roman miles from the walls, situated
upon an eminence, and overlooking the city and the surrounding plains.
Soon as the shadows of the evening of the first day of the reign of
Antiochus had fallen, we departed from Palmyra, and within an hour found
ourselves upon a spot as wild and secluded as if it had been within the
bosom of a wilderness. The building consists of a square tower of stone,
large and lofty, built originally for purposes of war and defence, but now
long occupied by those who have pursued the peaceful labors of husbandry.
The wildness of the region, the solitariness of the place, the dark and
frowning aspect of the impregnable tower, had pleased the fancy of both
Gracchus and Fausta, and it has been used by them as an occasional retreat
at those times when, wearied of the sound and sight of life, they have
needed perfect repose. A few slaves are all that are required to
constitute a sufficient household.
Here, Curtius, notwithstanding the troubled aspect of the times, have we
passed a few days of no moderate enjoyment. Had there been no other, it
would have been enough to sit and witness the happiness of Calpurnius and
Fausta. But there have been and are other sources of satisfaction as you
will not doubt. We have now leisure to converse at such length as we
please upon a thousand subjects which interest us. Seated upon the rocks
at nightfall, or upon the lofty battlements of the tower, or at hot noon
reclining beneath the shade of the terebinth or palm, we have tasted once
again the calm delights we experienced at the Queen's mountain palace. In
this manner have we heard from Calpurnius accounts every way instructive
and entertaining of his life while in Persia; of the character and acts of
Sapor; of the condition of that empire, and its wide-spread population.
Nothing seems to have escaped his notice and investigation. At these times
and places too do I amuse and enlighten the circle around me by reading
such portions of your letters and of Portia's as relate to matters
generally interesting--and thus too do we discuss the times, and speculate
upon the events with which the future labors in relation to Palmyra.
In the mean time we learn that the city is given up to festivity and
excess. Antiochus himself possessing immense riches, is devoting these,
and whatever the treasury of the kingdom places within his reach, to the
entertainment of the people with shows and games after the Roman fashion,
and seems really to have deluded the mass of the people so far as to have
convinced them that their ancient prosperity has returned, and that he is
the father of their country, a second Odenatus. He has succeeded in giving
to his betrayal of the Queen the character and merit of a patriotic act,
at least with the creatures who uphold him--and there are no praises so
false and gross that they are not heaped upon him, and imposed upon the
people in proclamations, and edicts. The ignorant--and where is it that
they are not the greater part--stand by, wonder and believe. They cannot
penetrate the wickedness of the game that has been played before them, and
by the arts of the king and his minions have already been converted into
friends and supporters.
The defence of the city is not, we understand, wholly neglected; but
having before their eyes some fear of retribution, troops are again levied
and organized, and the walls beginning to be put into a state of
preparation. But this is all of secondary interest, and is postponed to
any object of more immediate and sensual gratification.
But there are large numbers of the late Queen's truest friends, who with
Gracchus look on in grief and terror even, at the order of things that has
arisen, and prophesying with him a speedy end to it, either from interior
and domestic revolution, or a return of the Roman armies, accompanied in
either case of course by a wide-spread destruction, have with him also
secretly withdrawn from the city, and fled either to some neighboring
territory, or retreated to the fastnesses of the rural districts. Gracchus
has not ceased to warn all whom he knows and chiefly esteems of the
dangers to be apprehended, and urge upon them the duty of a timely escape.
* * * * *
Messengers have arrived from Antiochus to Gracchus, with whom they have
held long and earnest conference, the object of which has been to induce
him to return to the city, and resume his place at the head of the Senate,
the king well knowing that no act of his would so much strengthen his
power as to be able to number Gracchus among his friends. But Gracchus has
not so much as wavered in his purpose to keep aloof from Antiochus and all
concern with his affairs. His contempt and abhorrence of the king would
not however, he says, prevent his serving his country, were he not
persuaded that in so short a time violence of some sort from without or
within would prostrate king and government in the dust.
It was only a few days after the messengers from Antiochus had paid their
visit to Gracchus, that as we were seated upon a shaded rock, not far from
the tower, listening to Fausta as she read to us, we were alarmed by the
sudden irruption of Milo upon our seclusion, breathless, except that he
could just exclaim, 'The Romans! The Romans!' As he could command his
speech, he said, 'that the Roman army could plainly be discerned from the
higher points of the land, rapidly approaching the city, of which we might
satisfy ourselves by ascending the tower.'
'Gods! can it be possible,' exclaimed Gracchus, 'that Aurelian can himself
have returned? He must have been well on his way to the Hellespont ere the
conspiracy broke out.'
'I can easily believe it,' I replied, as we hastened toward the old tower,
'from what I have known and witnessed of the promptness and miraculous
celerity of his movements.'
As we came out upon the battlements of the tower, not a doubt remained
that it was indeed the Romans pouring in again like a flood upon the
plains of the now devoted city. Far as the eye could reach to the west,
clouds of dust indicated the line of the Roman march, while the van was
already within a mile of the very gates. The roads leading to the capital,
in every direction, seemed covered with those who, at the last moment, ere
the gates were shut, had rushed forth and were flying to escape the
impending desolation. All bore the appearance of a city taken by surprise
and utterly unprepared; as we doubted not was the case from what we had
observed of its actual state, and from the suddenness of Aurelian's return
and approach.
'Now,' said Fausta, 'I can believe that the last days of Palmyra have
arrived. It is impossible that Antiochus can sustain the siege against
what will now be the tenfold fury of Aurelian and his enraged soldiers.'
A very few days will suffice for its reduction, if long before it be not
again betrayed into the power of the assailants.
We have watched with intense curiosity and anxiety the scene that has been
performing before our eyes. We are not so remote but that we can see with
considerable distinctness whatever takes place, sometimes advancing and
choosing our point of observation upon some nearer eminence.
* * * * *
After one day of preparation and one of assault the city has fallen, and
Aurelian again entered in triumph; this time in the spirit of revenge and
retaliation. It is evident, as we look on horror-struck, that no quarter
is given, but that a general massacre has been ordered, both of soldier
and citizen. We can behold whole herds of the defenceless populace
escaping from the gates or over the walls, only to be pursued--hunted--and
slaughtered by the remorseless soldiers. And thousands upon thousands
have we seen driven over the walls, or hurled from the battlements of the
lofty towers to perish, dashed upon the rocks below. Fausta cannot endure
these sights of horror, but retires and hides herself in her apartments.
No sooner had the evening of this fatal day set in, than a new scene of
terrific sublimity opened before us as we beheld flames beginning to
ascend from every part of the city. They grew and spread till they
presently appeared to wrap all objects alike in one vast sheet of fire.
Towers, pinnacles and domes, after glittering awhile in the fierce blaze,
one after another fell and disappeared in the general ruin. The Temple of
the Sun stood long untouched, shining almost with the brightness of the
sun itself, its polished shafts and sides reflecting the surrounding fire
with an intense brilliancy. We hoped that it might escape, and were
certain that it would, unless fired from within--as from its insulated
position the flames from the neighboring buildings could not reach it. But
we watched not long ere from its western extremity the fire broke forth,
and warned us that that peerless monument of human genius, like all else,
would soon crumble to the ground. To our amazement however and joy, the
flames, after having made great progress, were suddenly arrested, and by
some cause extinguished; and the vast pile stood towering in the centre of
the desolation, of double size as it seemed, from the fall and
disappearance of so many of the surrounding structures.
'This,' said Fausta, 'is the act of a rash and passionate man. Aurelian,
before to-morrow's sun is 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.'
'I fear that you prophesy with too much truth,' I replied. 'Rage and
revenge have ruled the hour, and have committed horrors which no reason
and no policy either of the present or of any age, will justify.'
'It is a result ever to be expected,' said Gracchus, 'so long as mankind
will prefer an ignorant, unlettered soldier as their ruler. They can look
for nothing different from one whose ideas have been formed by the camp
alone--whose vulgar mind has never been illuminated by study and the
knowledge of antiquity. Such a one feels no reverence for the arts, for
learning, for philosophy, nor for man as man--he knows not what these
mean--power is all he can comprehend, and all he worships. As long as the
army furnishes Rome with her emperors, so long may she know that her name
will, by acts like these, be handed down to posterity covered with the
infamy that belongs to the polished savage--the civilized barbarian. Come,
Fausta, let us now in and hide ourselves from this sight--too sad and
sorrowful to gaze upon.'
'I can look now, father, without emotion,' she replied; 'a little sorrow
opens all the fountains of grief--too much seals them. I have wept till I
can weep no more. My sensibility is, I believe, by this succession of
calamities dulled till it is dead.'
Aurelian, we learn, long before the fire had completed its work of
destruction, recalled the orders he had given, and labored to arrest the
progress of the flames. In this he to a considerable extent succeeded, and
it was owing to this that the great temple was saved, and others among the
most costly and beautiful structures.
On the third day after the capture of the city and the massacre of the
inhabitants, the army of the 'conqueror and destroyer' withdrew from the
scene of its glory, and again disappeared beyond the desert. I sought not
the presence of Aurelian while before the city, for I cared not to meet
him drenched in the blood of women and children. But as soon as he and his
legions were departed, we turned toward the city, as children to visit the
dead body of a parent.
No language which I can use, my Curtius, can give you any just conception
of the horrors which met our view on the way to the walls and in the city
itself. 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 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.
We sought together the house of Gracchus. We found it partly consumed,
partly standing and uninjured. The offices and one of the rear wings were
burned and level with the ground, but there the flames had been arrested,
and the remainder, comprising all the principal apartments, stands as it
stood before. The palace of Zenobia has escaped without harm--its lofty
walls and insulated position were its protection. The Long Portico, with
its columns, monuments, and inscriptions, remains also untouched by the
flames and unprofaned by any violence from the wanton soldiery. The fire
has fed upon the poorer quarters of the city, where the buildings were
composed in greater proportion of wood, and spared most of the great
thorough-fares, principal avenues, and squares of the capital, which,
being constructed in the most solid manner of stone, resisted effectually
all progress of the flames, and though frequently set on fire for the
purpose of their destruction, the fire perished from a want of material,
or it consumed but the single edifice where it was kindled.
The silence of death and of ruin rests over this once and but so lately
populous city. As I stood upon a high point which overlooked a large
extent of it, I could discern no signs of life, except here and there a
detachment of the Roman guard dragging forth the bodies of the
slaughtered citizens, and bearing them to be burned or buried. This whole
people is extinct. In a single day these hundred thousands have found a
common grave. Not one remains to bewail or bury the dead. Where are the
anxious crowds, who when their dwellings have been burned, eagerly rush in
as the flames have spent themselves to sorrow over their smoking altars,
and pry with busy search among the hot ashes, if perchance they may yet
rescue some lamented treasure, or bear away at least the bones of a parent
or a child, buried beneath the ruins? They are not here. It is broad day,
and the sun shines bright, but not a living form is seen lingering about
these desolated streets and squares. Birds of prey are already hovering
round, and alighting without apprehension of disturbance wherever the
banquet invites them; and soon as the shadows of evening shall fall, the
hyena of the desert will be here to gorge himself upon what they have
left, having scented afar off upon the tainted breeze the fumes of the
rich feast here spread for him. These Roman grave-diggers from the legion
of Bassus, are alone upon the ground to contend with them for their prize.
O, miserable condition of humanity! Why is it that to man have been given
passions which he cannot tame, and which sink him below the brute! Why is
it that a few ambitious are permitted by the Great Ruler, in the selfish
pursuit of their own aggrandizement, to scatter in ruin, desolation, and
death, whole kingdoms--making misery and destruction the steps by which
they mount up to their seats of pride! O, gentle doctrine of Christ!
doctrine of love and of peace, when shall it be that I and all mankind
shall know thy truth, and the world smile with a new happiness under thy
life-giving reign!
Fausta, as she has wandered with us through this wilderness of woe, has
uttered scarce a word. This appalling and afflicting sight of her beloved
Palmyra--her pride and hope--in whose glory her very life was wrapt
up--so soon become a blackened heap of ruins--its power departed--its busy
multitudes dead, and their dwellings empty or consumed--has deprived her
of all but tears. She has only wept. The sensibility which she feared was
dead she finds endued with life enough--with too much for either her peace
or safety.
As soon as it became known in the neighboring districts that the army of
Aurelian was withdrawn, and that the troops left in the camp and upon the
walls were no longer commissioned to destroy, they who had succeeded in
effecting their escape, or who had early retreated from the scene of
danger, began to venture back. These were accompanied by great numbers of
the country people, who now poured in either to witness with their own
eyes the great horror of the times, or to seek for the bodies of children
or friends, who, dwelling in the city for purposes of trade or labor or as
soldiers, had fallen in the common ruin. For many days might the streets,
and walls, and ruins be seen covered with crowds of men and women, who
weeping sought among the piles of the yet unburied and decaying dead, dear
relatives, or friends, or lovers, for whom they hoped to perform the last
offices of unfailing affection; a hope that was, perhaps, in scarce a
single instance fulfilled. And how could any but those in whom love had
swallowed up reason once imagine that where the dead were heaped fathoms
deep, mangled by every shocking mode of death, and now defaced yet more by
the processes of corruption, they could identify the forms which they last
saw beautiful in all the bloom of health? But love is love; it feels and
cannot reason.
Cerronius Bassus, the lieutenant of Aurelian, has with a humane violence
laid hold upon this curious and gazing multitude, and changed them all
into buriers of the dead they came to seek and bewail. To save the
country, himself and his soldiers from pestilence, he hastens the
necessary work of interment. The plains are trenched, and into them the
bodies of the citizens are indiscriminately thrown. There now lie in
narrow space the multitudes of Palmyra.
The mangled bodies of Antiochus, Herennianus and Timolaus have been found
among the slain.
* * * * *
We go no longer to the city, but remain at our solitary tower--now however
populous as the city itself. We converse of the past and the future; but
most of my speedy departure for Rome.
It is the purpose of Gracchus to continue for a season yet in the quiet
retreat where he now is. He then will return to the capital, and become
one of those to lay again the foundations of another prosperity.
'Nature,' he says, 'has given to our city a position and resources which,
it seems to me, no power of man can deprive her of, nor prevent their
always creating and sustaining upon this same spot a large population.
Circumstances like the present may oppress and overwhelm for a time, but
time will again revive and rebuild, and embellish. I will not for one sit
down in inactivity or useless grief, but if Aurelian does not hinder,
shall apply the remainder of my days to the restoration of Palmyra. In
Calpurnius and Fausta I shall look to find my lieutenants, prompt to
execute the commissions intrusted to them by their commander.'
'We shall fall behind,' said Calpurnius, 'I warrant you, in no quality of
affection or zeal in the great task.'
'Fausta,' continued Gracchus, 'has as yet no heart but for the dead and
the lost. But, Lucius, when you shall have been not long in Rome, you will
hear that she lives then but among the living, and runs before me and
Calpurnius in every labor that promises advantage to Palmyra.'
'It may be so,' replied Fausta, 'but I have no faith that it will. We have
witnessed the death of our country; we have attended the funeral
obsequies. I have no belief in any rising again from the dead.'
'Give not way, my child,' said Gracchus, 'to grief and despair. These are
among the worst enemies of man. They are the true doubters and deniers of
the gods and their providence, who want a spirit of trust and hope. Hope
and confidence are the best religion, and the truest worship. I who do not
believe in the existence of the gods am therefore to be commended for my
religion more than many of the staunchest defenders of Pagan, Christian,
or Jewish superstitions, who too often, it seems to me, feel and act as if
the world were abandoned of all divine care, and its affairs and events
the sport of a blind chance. What is best for man and the condition of the
world, must be most agreeable to the gods--to the creator and possessor
of the world--be they one or many. Can we doubt which is best for the
remaining inhabitants of Palmyra, and the provinces around which are
dependent upon her trade--to leave her in her ruin finally and utterly to
perish, or apply every energy to her restoration? Is it better that the
sands of the desert should within a few years heap themselves over these
remaining walls and dwellings, or that we who survive should cleanse, and
repair, and rebuild, in the confident hope, before we in our turn are
called to disappear, to behold our beloved city again thronged with its
thousands of busy and laborious inhabitants? Carthage is again populous as
in the days of Hamilcar. You, Fausta, may live to see Palmyra what it was
in the days of Zenobia.'
'The gods grant it may be so!' exclaimed Fausta; and a bright smile at the
vision her father had raised up before her illuminated her features. She
looked for a moment as if the reality had been suddenly revealed to her,
and had stood forth in all its glory.
'I do not despair,' continued Gracchus, 'of the Romans themselves doing
something toward the restoration of that which they have wantonly and
foolishly destroyed.'
'But they cannot give life to the dead, and therefore it is but little
that they can do at best,' said Fausta. 'They may indeed rebuild the
temple of the Sun, but they cannot give us back the godlike form of
Longinus, and kindle within it that intellect that shed light over the
world; they may raise again the walls of the citizen's humble dwelling,
but they cannot re-animate the bodies of the slaughtered multitudes, and
call them out from their trenches to people again the silent streets.'
'They cannot indeed,' rejoined Gracchus; 'they cannot do every thing--they
may not do any thing. But I think they will, and that the Emperor himself,
when reason returns, will himself set the example. And from you, Lucius,
when once more in Rome, shall I look for substantial aid in disposing
favorably the mind both of Aurelian and the Senate.'
'I can never be more happily employed,' I replied, 'than in serving either
you or Palmyra. You will have a powerful advocate also in Zenobia.'
'Yes,' said Gracchus, 'if her life be spared, which must for some time be
still quite uncertain. After gracing the triumph of Aurelian, she, like
Longinus, may be offered as a new largess to the still hungering legions.'
'Nay, there I think, Gracchus, you do Aurelian hardly justice. Although he
has bound himself by no oath, yet virtually is he sworn to spare
Zenobia--and his least word is true as his sword.'
Thus have we passed the last days and hours of my residence here. I should
in vain attempt, my Curtius, to tell you how strongly I am bound to this
place--to this kingdom and city, and above all to those who survive this
destruction. No Palmyrene can lament with more sincerity than I the
whirlwind of desolation that has passed over them, obliterating almost
their place and name--nor from any one do there ascend more fervent
prayers that prosperity may yet return, and these wide-spread ruins again
rise and glow in their ancient beauty. Rome has by former acts of
unparalleled barbarism covered her name with reproach, but by none has
she so drenched it in guilt as by this wanton annihilation--for so do I
regard it--of one of the fairest cities and kingdoms of the earth. The day
of Aurelian's triumph may be a day of triumph to him, but to Rome it will
be a day of never forgotten infamy.
Letter XVIII.