I trust that you have safely received the letter which, as we entered the
Tiber, I was fortunate enough to place on board a vessel bound directly
to Berytus. In that I have told you of my journey and voyage, and have
said many other things of more consequence still, both to you, Gracchus,
and myself.
I now write to you from my own dwelling upon the Coelian, where I have
been these many days that have intervened since the date of my former
letter. If you have waited impatiently to hear from me again, I hope
that I shall now atone for what may seem a too long delay, by telling
you of those concerning whom you wish chiefly to hear and know--Zenobia
and Julia.
But first let me say that I have found Portia in health, and as happy as
she could be after her bitter disappointment in Calpurnius. This has
proved a misfortune, less only than the loss of our father himself. That a
Piso should live, and be other than a Roman; that he should live and bear
arms against his country--this has been to her one of those
inexplicable mysteries in the providence of the gods that has tasked her
piety to the utmost. In vain has she scrutinized her life to discover what
fault has drawn down upon her and her house this heavy retribution. Yet
her grief is lightened by what I have told her of the conduct of
Calpurnius at Antioch and Emesa. At such times, when I have related the
events of those great days, and the part which my brother took, the pride
of the Roman has yielded to that of the mother, and she has not been able
to conceal her satisfaction. 'Ah,' she would say, 'my brave boy! That was
like him! I warrant Zabdas himself was not greater! What might he not be,
were he but in Rome!'
Portia is never weary with inquiring into every thing relating to yourself
and Gracchus. My letters, many and minute as they have been, so far from
satisfying her, serve only as themes for new and endless conversations, in
which, as well as I am able, I set before her my whole life while in
Palmyra, and every event, from the conversation at the table or in the
porticos, to the fall of the city and the death of Longinus. So great is
her desire to know all concerning the 'hero Fausta,' and so unsatisfying
is the all that I can say, that I shall not wonder if, after the ceremony
of the triumph, she should herself propose a journey to Palmyra, to see
you once more with her own eyes, and once more fold you in her arms. You
will rejoice to be told that she bewails, even with tears, the ruin of the
city, and the cruel massacre of its inhabitants. She condemns the Emperor
in language as strong as you or I should use. The slaughter of Sandarion
and his troops she will by no means allow to be a sufficient justification
of the act. And of her opinion are all the chief citizens of Rome.
I have found Curtius and Lucilia also in health. They are at their villa
upon the Tiber. The first to greet me there were Laco and Coelia. Their
gratitude was affecting and oppressive. Indeed there is no duty so hard as
to receive with grace the thanks of those whom you have obliged. Curtius
is for once satisfied that I have performed with fidelity the part of a
correspondent. He even wonders at my diligence. The advantage is, I
believe for the first time, fairly on my side; though you can yourself
bear testimony, having heard all his epistles, how many he wrote, and with
what vividness and exactness he made Rome to pass before us. I think he
will not be prevented from writing to you by anything I can say. He drops
in every day, Lucilia sometimes with him, and never leaves us till he has
exhausted his prepared questions concerning you, and the great events
which have taken place--there remaining innumerable points to a man of his
exact turn of mind, about which he must insist upon fuller and more
careful information. I think he will draw up a history of the war. I hope
he will--no one could do it better.
Aurelian, you will have heard, upon leaving Palmyra, instead of continuing
on the route upon which he set out toward Emesa and Antioch, turned aside
to Egypt, in order to put down by one of his sudden movements the Egyptian
merchant Firmus, who, with a genius for war greater than for traffic, had
placed himself at the head of the people, and proclaimed their
independence of Rome. As the friend and ally of Zenobia--although he could
render her during the siege no assistance--I must pity his misfortunes and
his end. News has just reached us that his armies have been defeated, he
himself taken and put to death, and his new-made kingdom reduced again to
the condition of a Roman province. We now every hour look to hear of the
arrival of the Emperor and his armies.
Although there has been observed some secrecy concerning the progress and
places of residence of Zenobia, yet we learn with a good degree of
certainty that she is now at Brundusium, awaiting the further orders of
Aurelian, having gone over-land from Byzantium to Apollonia, and there
crossing the Adriatic. I have not been much disturbed by the reports which
have prevailed, because I thought I knew too much of the Queen to think
them well grounded. Yet I confess I have suffered somewhat when, upon
resorting to the capitol or the baths, I have found the principal topic to
be the death of Zenobia--according to some, of grief, on her way from
Antioch to Byzantium--or, as others had it, of hunger, she having
resolutely refused all nourishment. I have given no credit to the rumor,
yet as all stories of this kind are a mixture of truth and error, so in
this case I can conceive easily that it has some foundation in reality,
and I am led to believe from it that the sufferings of the Queen have been
great. How indeed could they be otherwise! A feebler spirit than
Zenobia's, and a feebler frame would necessarily have been destroyed. With
what impatience do I await the hour that shall see her in Rome! I am
happily already relieved of all anxiety as to her treatment by
Aurelian--no fear need be entertained for her safety. Desirous as far as
may be to atone for the rash severity of his orders in Syria, he will
distinguish with every possible mark of honor the Queen, her family, and
such other of the inhabitants of Palmyra as have been reserved to grace
his triumph.
For this august ceremony the preparations are already making. It is the
sole topic of conversation, and the single object toward which seem to be
bent the whole genius and industry of the capital. It is intended to
surpass in magnificence all that has been done by former Emperors or
Generals. The materials for it are collecting from every part of the
empire, and the remotest regions of Asia and Africa. Every day there
arrive cargoes either of wild beasts or of prisoners, destined to the
amphitheatre; illustrious captives also from Asia, Germany and Gaul, among
whom are Tetricus and his son. The Tiber is crowded with vessels bringing
in the treasures drawn from Palmyra--her silver and gold--her statuary and
works of art--and every object of curiosity and taste that was susceptible
of transportation across the desert and the ocean.
It is now certain that the Queen has advanced as far as Tusculum, where
with Julia, Livia, Faustula and Vabalathus, they will remain--at a villa
of Aurelian's it is said--till the day of the triumph. Separation seems
the more painful as they approach nearer. Although knowing that they would
be scrupulously prohibited from all intercourse with any beyond the
precincts of the villa itself, I have not been restrained from going again
and again to Tusculum, and passing through it and around it in the hope to
obtain were it but a distant glimpse of persons to whom I am bound more
closely than to any others on earth. But it has been all in vain. I shall
not see them till I behold them a part of the triumphal procession of
their conqueror.
* * * * *
Aurelian has arrived--the long expected day has come--and is gone. His
triumph has been celebrated, and with a magnificence and a pomp greater
than the traditionary glories of those of Pompey, Trajan, Titus, or even
the secular games of Philip.