'My opinions are well known,' he began with saying, 'and it may be needless that I should again, and especially here, declare them, seeing that they will jar so rudely with those entertained by you, my friends around me. But sure I am, that no one has advocated the cause and the sentiments which Zenobia cherishes so fondly, with a truer, deeper affection for her, with a sincerer love of her glory, than I rise to oppose them with—' 'We know it, we know it, Otho,' interrupted the Queen. 'Thanks, noble Queen, for the fresh assurance of it. It is because I love, that I resist you. It is because I glory in your reign, in your renown, in your virtues, that I oppose an enterprise that I see with a prophet's vision will tarnish them all. Were I your enemy, I could not do better than to repeat the arguments that have just fallen from the lips of the head of our councils, set off with every trick of eloquence that would send them with a yet more resistless power into the minds not only of those who are assembled here, but of those, your subjects, wherever over these large dominions they are scattered. To press this war is to undermine the foundations of the fairest kingdom the sun shines upon, and unseat the most beloved ruler that ever swayed a sceptre over the hearts of a devoted people. It can have no other issue. And this is not, O noble Queen, to throw discredit upon former achievements, or to express a doubt of powers which have received the homage of the world. It is only with open eyes to acknowledge what all but the blind must see and confess, the overwhelming superiority in power of every kind of the other party. With a feeble man upon the Roman throne, and I grant that upon the outskirts of her empire a brave and determined opposition might obtain great advantages, and conquer or re-conquer provinces and cities, and bring disgrace upon Roman generals. But this must be a transitory glory—the mere shooting of an evening star—ending in deeper gloom. For what is Rome? Is it the commander of a legion, or the resident governor of a dependent kingdom, or even Caesar himself? And have you dealt with Rome when you have dealt with Balista, or Heraclianus, or Probus? Alas! no. Rome still stands omnipotent and secure. The lion has been but chafed, and is still a lion, with more than his former fury; one hair has been drawn; his teeth, his limbs, his massy weight, his untouched energies, remain. Rome has been asleep for thirteen long years. Any empire but Rome—which is immortal—would have slept the sleep of death under the dastardly, besotted Gallienus. But Rome has but slumbered, and has now awaked with renovated powers, under the auspices of a man whose name alone has carried terror and dismay to the farthest tribes of the German forests. Against Aurelian, with all the world at his back! and what can any resistance of ours avail? We may gain a single victory—to that, genius and courage are equal, and we possess them in more than even Roman measure—but that very victory may be our undoing, or it will but embitter the temper of the enemy, call forth a new display of unexhausted and inexhaustible resources, while our very good success itself will have nearly annihilated our armies; and what can happen then but ruin, absolute and complete? Roman magnanimity may spare our city and our name. But it is more likely that Roman vengeance may blot them both out from the map of the world, and leave us nought but the fame of our Queen, and the crumbling ruins of this once flourishing city, by which to be remembered by posterity.

'These are not the counsels of fear—of a tame and cowardly spirit. I may rebut that imputation without vanity, by referring to the siege of Ctesiphon and the reduction of Egypt. The generous Zabdas will do me justice—nay, you all will—why am I apprehensive? Bear with me a moment more'—'Say on, say on, noble Otho,' said the Queen, and many other voices at the same time.—'The great Longinus has said,' continued he, 'that it is needful that there be one empire at least in the world to stand between Rome and universal dominion. I believe it. And that Palmyra may be, or continue to be, that kingdom, I counsel peace—I counsel delay—temporary concession—negotiation—any thing but war. A Roman emperor lives not forever; and let us once ward off the jealousy of Aurelian, by yielding to some of his demands, and resigning pretensions which are nothing in reality, but exist as names and shadows only, and long years of peace and prosperity may again arise, when our now infant kingdom may shoot up into the strong bone and muscle of a more vigorous manhood, and with reason assert rights, which now it seems but madness, essential madness, to do. Listen, great Queen! to the counsels of a time-worn soldier, whose whole soul is bound up in most true-hearted devotion to your greatness and glory. I quarrel not with your ambition, or your love of warlike fame. I would only direct them to fields where they may pluck fresh laurels, and divert them from those where waits—pardon me, my royal mistress!—inevitable shame.'

Soon as Otho had given a single sign of pause, Zabdas, like a war-horse, sprang upon his feet. 'Were not the words,' said he, 'which we have just heard, the words of Otho, I would cry out treason! treason!—But Otho—is Otho. What nation would ever, O Queen, outgrow its infancy, were a policy like this, now descanted upon, to guide its counsels? The general who risks nothing can win nothing. And the nation that should wait till absolutely sure of victory before unsheathing the sword would never draw it, or only in some poor skirmish, where victory would be as disgraceful as defeat. Besides, although such a nation were to rise by such victories, if victories those may be called won by a thousand over an hundred, who would not blush to own himself a citizen of it? Greatness lies not in pounds weight of flesh, but in skill, courage, warlike genius, energy, and an indomitable will. A great heart will scatter a multitude. The love of freedom, in a few brave spirits, overthrows kingdoms. It was not, if I rightly remember, numbers by which the Persian hosts were beaten upon the plains of Greece. It was there something like three hundred to a million—the million weighed more than the three hundred, yet the three hundred were the heavier. The arm of one Spartan fell like a tempest upon the degenerate Persians, crushing its thousands at a single sweep. It was a great heart and a trusting spirit that made it weigh so against mere human flesh. Are we to wait till Palmyra be as multitudinous as Rome, ere we risk a battle? Perhaps Rome will grow as fast as Palmyra—and how long must we then wait? I care not, though Aurelian bring half Europe at his back, there sits a throned spirit—whether of earth or not, I cannot tell, but as I think more than half divine—who will drive him back shattered and bleeding, the jest and ridicule of the observing world. She who, by the force of pure intellect, has out of this speck in the desert made a large empire, who has humbled Persia, and entered her capital in triumph, has defeated three Roman armies, and wrested more provinces than time will allow me to number, from the firm grasp of the self-styled mistress of the world, this more than Semiramis is to be daunted forsooth, because a Roman soldier of fortune sends his hirelings here and asks of her the surrender of three fourths of her kingdom—she is to kneel and cry him mercy—and humbly lay at his royal feet the laurels won by so much precious blood and treasure. May the sands of the desert bury Palmyra and her Queen, sooner than one humiliating word shall pass those lips, or one act of concession blast a fame to this hour spotless as the snows of Ararat, and bright as the Persian God. Shame upon the man who, after the lessons of the past, wants faith in his sovereign. Great Queen, believe me, the nation is with you. Palmyra, as one man, will pour out treasure to the last and least dust of gold, and blood to the last drop, that you may still sit secure upon that throne, and stretch your sceptre over a yet wider and undishonored empire.'

'Let not the Queen,' resumed Otho, as Zabdas ceased, 'let not the Queen doubt my faith'—'I doubt it not, good Otho,' she replied; 'heed not the sharp words of the impetuous Zabdas; in his zeal for the art he only loves and for his Queen, he has thrust his lance hither and thither at all adventures, but as in the sports of the field he means no injury.'

'Zabdas intends no wrong, I am well assured,' rejoined Otho. 'I would only add a word, to show upon what I ground my doubt of good success, should Aurelian muster all his strength. It cannot be thought that I have lost my faith in the military genius and prowess of either Zenobia or Zabdas, with both of whom, side by side, I have fought so many times, and by their conduct mounted up to victory. Neither do I doubt the courage of our native Palmyrenes, nor their devotion to the interests of their country. They will war to the death. But should a second army be to be raised, should the chosen troops of the city and its neighboring territories be once cut off, upon whom are we then to rely? Where are the auxiliaries whom we can trust? What reliance can be placed upon Arabs, the Armenians, the Saracens, the Cappadocians, the Syrians? Is our empire so old, and so well moulded into one mass, so single in interest and affection, that these scattered tribes—formerly hostile to each other and to us, many, most of them at different times subject to Rome—may be depended upon as our own people? Have we legions already drawn from their numbers, disciplined, and accustomed to our modes of warfare? Truly, this war with Rome seems to be approached much as if it were but some passing show of arms, some holiday pastime. But the gods grant that none of my forebodings turn true!'

The words of the sober-minded and honest Otho found no echo in the bosoms of those who heard him, and he ceased, when I believe he would willingly have gone on to a closer and sharper opposition. Others followed him, each one present eagerly pressing forward to utter, were it but one word, to show his loyalty, and his zeal in the service of his Queen.

When all, or nearly all, had in this manner manifested their attachment and declared their opinions, the Queen turned to me, saying, that as I had there heard so much of what I could not approve, and perhaps had power to disprove, it was right that if I wished I should also express my opinions; nay, it would be esteemed as a favor by herself, and she was sure also by all her friends, if I would freely impart any knowledge I might possess, by which any error might be corrected, or false impressions dissipated.

Being thus invited, I not unwillingly entered into the questions that had been agitated, and with earnestness and sincerity, and with all the power I could bring to bear, labored to expose the imminent hazard to the very existence of the kingdom, which was run by this rash encounter with the countless hosts of Rome. I revealed a true picture of the resources of our country, and sketched, as I could so well do in their proper colors, the character of the fierce Aurelian; and, in a word, did all that a Roman could do for Rome, and a Palmyrene for Palmyra. I remembered what Otho had told me of the courtesy and willingness with which any company of genuine Palmyrenes would listen to me, and shrank not from any statement however harsh and grating to their national vanity, but which seemed to me to convey the wholesome truth. It appeared to me indeed too late to work any change in minds so pledged already to an adopted opinion, but I resolved to leave nothing untried to turn them from a bent that must end in irretrievable ruin. I was encouraged too, and urged on to more than a common effort, by the imploring countenance of the Princess Julia, who, in that expressive manner, begged me to use all frankness and boldness in my communications. Otho had, it is true, with great power and unshrinking fidelity, advocated the cause of peace, and laid bare the true motives to the war, but still it appeared to me that much might be said by a Roman and a stranger, that would carry with it more weight than as coming from a citizen, however loved and respected. To you, my friend, I need enter into no detail; you will easily imagine what it was, as a Roman, I should urge upon such an occasion, and in such a presence. I shall always remember with satisfaction, I am sure, whatever the issue of this difference may be, my efforts to preserve peace between two nations, whose best interests must be advanced not by enmity and war, but by the closest alliance of friendly intercourse.

I was heard with attention and respect, and afterwards with sincerity thanked, not only by the opposers of the present measures, but by their advocates also; they were glad to know the worst that could be said against the cause they had espoused. A brief silence ensued as I ended, and the eyes of all were instinctively turned upon Zenobia, the ruling spirit—the maker of the kingdom—its soul—its head—and bright, peerless crown.

'It was my wish,' said Zenobia, answering the general expectation, 'before the final decision of the senate and the council, to receive from my friends, in social confidence, a full expression of their feelings, their opinions, their hopes, and their fears, concerning the present posture of our affairs. My wish has been gratified, and I truly thank you all, and not least those my friends—as a philosopher, should I not term them my best friends?—who, with a generous trust in me and in you who are on my part, have not shrunk from the duty, always a hard one, of exposing the errors and the faults of those they love. After such exposure—and which at more length and with more specification will, I trust, be repeated in the hearing of the senate and the council—it cannot be said that I blindly rushed upon danger and ruin, if these await us, or weakly blundered upon a wider renown, if that, as I doubt not, is to be the event of the impending contest. I would neither gain nor lose, but as the effect of a wise calculation and a careful choice of means. Withhold not now your confidence, which before you have never refused me. Believe that now, as ever before, I discern with a clear eye the path which is to conduct us to a yet higher pitch of glory. I have long anticipated the emergency that has arisen. I was not so ignorant of the history and character of the Roman people, as to suppose that they would suffer an empire like this, founded and governed by a woman, to divide long with them the homage of the world. With the death of the ignoble son of Valerian, I believed would close our undisputed reign over most of these eastern provinces. Had Claudius lived, good as he was, he was too Roman in his mould not to have done what Aurelian now attempts. I prepared then for the crisis which has come not till now. I am ready now. My armies are in complete discipline; the city itself so fortified with every art and muniment of war as safely to defy any power that any nation may array before its walls. But were this not so; did the embassy of Aurelian take us by surprise and unprepared; should a people that respects itself, and would win or keep the good opinion of mankind, tamely submit to requisitions like these? Are we to dismember our country at the behest of a stranger, of a foreigner, and a Roman? Do you feel that without a struggle first for freedom and independence, you could sink down into a mean tributary of all-ingulfing Rome, and lose the name of Palmyrene? I see by the most expressive of all language, that you would rather die. Happy are you, my friends, that this is not your case; you are ready for the enemy; you shall not lose your name or your renown; and you shall not die. I and my brave soldiers will at a distance breast the coming storm; your ears shall not so much as hear its thunder; and at the worst, by the sacrifice of our lives, your and your country's life shall be preserved.

'I am advised to avert this evil by negotiation, by delay. Does any one believe that delay on our part will change the time-engendered character of Rome? If I cease to oppose, will Rome cease to be ambitious? Will fair words turn aside the fierce spirit of Aurelian from his settled purpose? Will he—so truly painted by the Roman Piso—who looks to build an undying name, by bringing back the empire to the bounds that compassed it under the great Antonines, let slip the glory for a few cities now in hand, and others promised? or for the purple robe humbly pulled from our young Caesars' shoulders? Believe it not. The storm that threatens might he so warded off perhaps for a day—a month—a year—a reign—but after that it would come, and, in all reasonable calculation, with tenfold fury. I would rather meet the danger at its first menace, and thereby keep our good name,—which otherwise should we not sully or lose?—and find it less too than a few years more would make it.

'I am charged with pride and ambition. The charge is true, and I glory in its truth. Who ever achieved any thing great in letters, arts, or arms, who was not ambitious? Caesar was not more ambitious than Cicero. It was but in another way. All greatness is born of ambition. Let the ambition be a noble one, and who shall blame it? I confess I did once aspire to be Queen not only of Palmyra, but of the East. That I am. I now aspire to remain so. Is it not an honorable ambition? Does it not become a descendant of the Ptolemys and of Cleopatra? I am applauded by you all for what I have already done. You would not it should have been less. But why pause here? Is so much ambition praiseworthy, and more criminal? Is it fixed in nature that the limits of this empire should be Egypt on the one hand, the Hellespont and the Euxine on the other? Were not Suez and Armenia more natural limits? Or hath empire no natural limit, but is broad as the genius that can devise, and the power that can win? Rome has the West. Let Palmyra possess the East Not that nature prescribes this and no more. The gods prospering, and I swear not that the Mediterranean shall hem me in upon the West, or Persia on the East. Longinus is right—I would that the world were mine. I feel within the will and the power to bless it, were it so.

'Are not my people happy? I look upon the past and the present, upon my nearer and remoter subjects, and ask nor fear the answer—whom have I wronged? what province have I oppressed? what city pillaged? what region drained with taxes? whose life have I unjustly taken, or estates coveted or robbed? whose honor have I wantonly assailed? whose rights, though of the weakest and poorest, have I trenched upon? I dwell where I would ever dwell, in the hearts of my people. It is writ in your faces, that I reign not more over you than within you. The foundation of my throne is not more power than love. Suppose now, my ambition add another province to our realm? Is it an evil? The kingdoms already bound to us by the joint acts of ourself and the late royal Odenatus, we found discordant and at war. They are now united and at peace. One harmonious whole has grown out of hostile and sundered parts. At my hands they receive a common justice and equal benefits. The channels of their commerce have I opened, and dug them deep and sure. Prosperity and plenty are in all their borders. The streets of our capital bear testimony to the distant and various industry which here seeks its market. This is no vain boasting—receive it not so, good friends: it is but truth. He who traduces himself, sins with him who traduces another. He who is unjust to himself, or less than just, breaks a law as well as he who hurts his neighbor. I tell you what I am and what I have done, that your trust for the future may not rest upon ignorant grounds. If I am more than just to myself, rebuke me. If I have overstepped the modesty that became me, I am open to your censure, and will bear it. But I have spoken, that you may know your Queen—not only by her acts, but by her admitted principles. I tell you then that I am ambitious—that I crave dominion, and while I live will reign. Sprung from a line of kings, a throne is my natural seat. I love it. But I strive too—you can bear me witness that I do—that it shall be, while I sit upon it, an honored, unpolluted seat. If I can, I will hang a yet brighter glory round it.

'And as to pride—what if my woman's nature, that nature the gods implanted and I have received from royal ancestors, loves the pomp and show of power? What if the pride which dwells in all high natures gratifies itself in me by planting its feet upon an Indian princess, as its only fitting footstool, who'—Suddenly at this point of her discourse the Queen broke off, and advancing from where she stood—she had risen from her seat in the ardor of her address—greeted with native courtesy and grace the Roman ambassadors, who, in company with others of their train, we now saw to enter the apartments.

The company, upon this, again resolved itself into many separate groups, and returned to such private topics as each one liked, Zenobia devoting herself to Varro and Petronius.

By and by, at the striking up of music, we moved to another apartment, the banqueting hall—the same Egyptian room in which I had before partaken the hospitalities of the Eastern Queen, where tables, set out with the most lavish magnificence, and bending beneath the most tempting burdens, awaited our approach. A flood of light was poured from the ceiling, and reflected back again from the jewelled wine cups and embossed gold of Demetrius.

But I cannot pretend to describe this sumptuous feast. I will only say, that the Queen, seated between the Roman ambassadors, gave the evening to them. And what with the frequent cups in which she pledged them, and the fascinating charms of her beauty and her conversation, I fear there was but little of the Roman in them when they rose to depart. In this more peaceful way has Zenobia won provinces and cities, as well as at the head of her armies. Farewell.



Letter XI.



From my late letters to Portia, and which without doubt you have before this read, you have learned with certainty, what I am sure the eye of Lucilia must before have clearly discerned, my love of the Princess Julia. I have there related all that it can import my friends to know. The greatest event of my life—the issues of which, whether they are to crown me with a felicity the gods might envy, or plunge me in afflictions divine compassions could not assuage—I have there described with that careful concern for your fullest information, touching all that befalls me, by which you will bear me testimony I have been actuated during my residence in this Eastern capital.

You will not be surprised to learn that my passion is opposed by the Queen. It was in the same apartment of the palace where I first saw this wonderful woman, that at a late interview with her, at her command, I was enjoined to think no more of an alliance with her house.

I was, as you may easily imagine, not a little disturbed in anticipation of an interview with such a person, on such an occasion. Fausta assured me that I might rely upon the Queen's generosity, and could look to receive only the most courteous reception, whatever her decision might be on my suit. 'I fear greatly for your success,' said she, 'but pray the gods both for your and the Princess' sake my fears may not come true. Julia lives in her affections—she cannot like me become part of the world abroad, and doubly live in its various action. She loves Zenobia indeed with the truest affection, but she has given her heart to you, Lucius, and disappointment here would feed upon her very life. She ought not to be denied. She cannot bear it. Yet Zenobia, devoured by ambition, and holding so little sympathy with human hearts in their mutual loves—all the world to them—may deny her, nor ever half conceive the misery she will inflict upon a being she loves and even reveres. Press your cause, Lucius, with a manly boldness. The gods succeed you.'

The Queen received me graciously, but with a fixed and almost severe countenance. She expressed herself obliged to me for the early knowledge of what otherwise she had not so much as suspected. 'Living myself,' said she 'far above any dependence upon love for my happiness, I am not prone to see the affection in others. The love which fastens upon objects because they are worthy, I can understand and honor. But that mad and blind passion, which loves only because it will love, which can render no reason for its existence but a hot and capricious fancy, I have had no experience of in my own heart, and where I see it I have no feeling for it but one of disapprobation or contempt. If it be but the beauty of Julia which has bewitched thy fancy, Roman, amuse thyself with a brief tour of pleasure, either to Antioch or Alexandria, and other objects will greet thee, and soon drive her from thy thoughts.'

I assured her that my regard was not of this kind; that indeed her transcendent beauty had first won me, but that other qualities retained me; that the bond which held me was as much friendship as love, and I might say as much reverence as friendship.

'The greater the pity, Roman,' rejoined the Queen in a voice somewhat stern, but yet melancholy, 'the greater the pity. In truth, I had hoped thine was but the love of the painted image, and might without pain be transferred to another, painted but as well. Yet, had I reflected upon the sentiments I have heard from thee, I might have judged thee nobler. But, Piso, this must not be. Were I to look only to myself and Julia, I might well be pleased with a tie that bound us to one whom I have so weighty reasons to respect and honor. But to do this I have no right. I am not my own, but the State's. Julia is no daughter of mine, but the property of Palmyra. Marriage is one of the chief bonds of nations, as of families. Were it not a crime in me, with selfish regard to my own or my daughter's pleasure, to bestow her upon a private citizen of whatever worth, when, espousing her to some foreign prince, a province or a kingdom may be won or saved?'

'But,' I ventured to remark, 'are the hearts of princes and princesses to be bartered away for power or territory? are the affections to be bought and sold? Is the question of happiness to be no question in their case?'

'By no means the principal one. It is not necessarily a sacrifice, but if necessary the sacrifice must be made. The world envies the lot of those who sit upon thrones. But the seat is not without its thorns. It seems all summer with them. But upon whom burst more storms, or charged with redder fury? They seem to the unreflecting mind to be the only independent—while they are the slaves of all. The prosperous citizen may link himself and his children when and with whom he likes, and none may gainsay him. He has but to look to himself and his merest whim. The royal family must go and ask his leave. My children are more his than mine. And if it be his pleasure and preference that my daughters ally themselves to an Indian or a Roman prince, his will is done, not mine—his is the gain, mine the loss. And were it just that, when by joining hands though not hearts two nations could be knit together in amity, the royal house should refuse the sacrifice? Roman, I live for Palmyra. I have asked of the gods my children, not for my own pleasure, but for Palmyra's sake. I should give the lie to my whole life, to every sentiment I have harbored since that day I gave myself to the royal Odenatus, were I now to bestow upon a private citizen her, through whom we have so long looked to ally ourselves by a new and stronger bond to some neighboring kingdom. Julia, Roman—you have seen her, you know her, you can appreciate her more than human qualities—Julia is the destined bride of Hormisdas. By her, on Sapor's death, do we hope to bind together by chains never to be afterward sundered, Persia and Palmyra, who, then leagued by interest and affection, may as one kingdom stand up with the more hope against the overwhelming force of Rome. Were I justified to forego this advantage for any private reason? Can you doubt, were I not constrained to act otherwise, whether I should prefer some nobleman of Palmyra, or thee, that so I might ever dwell within the charmed influence of one, from whom to part will be like the pang of death?'

'But the princess,'—I again urged.

'That is scarcely a question,' she rejoined. 'She may be a sacrifice; but it will be upon her country's altar. How many of our brave soldiers, how many of our great officers, with devoted patriotism throw away their lives for their country. You will not say that this is done for the paltry recompense, which at best scarce shields the body from the icy winds of winter, or the scorching rays of summer. And shall not a daughter of the royal house stand ready to encounter the hardships of a throne, the dangers of a Persian court, and the terrors of a royal husband, especially when by doing so, fierce and bloody wars may be staid, and nations brought into closer unity? I know but little of Hormisdas; report speaks well of him. But were it much less that I know, and were report yet less favorable, it were not enough to turn me from my purpose. Palmyra married to Persia, through Julia married to Hormisdas, is that upon which I and my people dwell.'

'Better a thousand times,' I then said, 'to be born to the lot of the humblest peasant—a slave's is no worse.'

'Upon love's calendar,' said the Queen, 'so it is. But have I not freely admitted, Roman, the dependency, nay slavery, of a royal house? It would grieve my mother's heart, I need scarce assure thee, were Julia unhappy. But grief to me might bring joy to two kingdoms.'

I then could not but urge the claims of my own family, and that by a more powerful and honored one she could not ally herself to Rome; and might not national interest be as well promoted by such a bond, as by one with the remoter East? I was the friend too of Aurelian, much in his confidence and regard.

Zenobia paused, and was for a few moments buried in thought. A faint smile for the first time played over her features as she said in reply, 'I wish for your sake and Julia's it could be so. But it is too late. Rome is resolved upon the ruin of Palmyra—she cannot be turned aside. Aurelian for worlds would not lose the glory of subduing the East. The greater need of haste in seeking a union with Persia. Were Sapor dead to-day, to-morrow an embassy should start for Ecbatana. But think not, Piso, I harbor ill will toward you, or hold your offer in contempt. A Queen of the East might not disdain to join herself to a family, whose ancestors were like yours. That Piso who was once the rival, and in power—not indeed in virtue—the equal of the great Germanicus, and looked, not without show of reason, to the seat of Tiberius; and he who so many years and with such honor reigned over the city its unequalled governor; and thou the descendant and companion of princes—an alliance with such might well be an object of ambition with even crowned heads. And it may well be, seeing the steps by which many an emperor of Rome has climbed upon his precarious seat, that the coming years may behold thee in the place which Aurelian fills, and, were I to pleasure thee in thy request, Julia empress of the world! The vision dazzles! But it cannot be. It would be sad recreancy to my most sacred duty were I, falling in love with a dream, to forsake a great reality.'

'I may not then—' I began.

'No, Piso, you may not even hope. I have reasoned with you because I honor you. But think not that I hesitate or waver. Julia can never be yours. She is the daughter of the state, and to a state must be espoused. Seek not therefore any more to deepen the place which you hold in her affections. Canst thou not be a friend, and leave the lover out? Friendship is a sentiment worthy godlike natures, and is the true sweetener of the cup of life. Love is at best but a bitter sweet; and when sweetest, it is the friendship mingled with it that makes it so. Love, too, wastes away with years. Friendship is eternal. It rests upon qualities that are a part of the soul. The witchery of the outward image helps not to make it, nor being lost as it is with age, can dissolve it. Friendship agrees too with ambition, while love is its most dreaded rival. Need I point to Antony? If, Piso, thou wouldst live the worthy heir of thy great name; if thou wouldst build for thyself a throne in the esteem of mankind, admit friendship, but bar out love. And I trust to hear that thou art great in Rome, greater even than thine ancestor Galba's adopted son. Aim at even the highest, and the arrow, if it reach it not, will hit the nearer. When thou art Caesar, send me an embassy. Then perhaps—'

She closed with that radiant smile that subdues all to her will, her manner at the same time giving me to understand that the conversation was ended, her own sentence being left playfully unfinished.

I urged not many things which you may well suppose it came into my mind to do, for I neither wished, nor did I feel as if I had a right, at an hour of so much public inquietude, to say aught to add to the burden already weighing upon her. Besides, it occurred to me, that when within so short a time great public changes may take place, and the relations of parties be so essentially altered, it was not worth while to give utterance to sentiments, which the lapse of a brief period might show to have been unnecessary and unwise. I may also add that the presence of this great woman is so imposing; she seems, in the very nature and form the gods have given her, to move so far above the rest of her kind, that I found it impossible both to say much of what I had intended to say, and to express what I did say with the ease and propriety which are common to me on ordinary or other extraordinary occasions. They are few, I believe, who possess themselves fully in her presence. Even Longinus confesses a constraint.

'It is even as I apprehended,' said Fausta, as I communicated to her the result of my interview with the Queen. 'I know her heart to have been set upon a foreign alliance by marriage with Julia, and that she has been looking forward with impatience to the time when her daughters should be of an age to add in this way new strength to the kingdom. I rather hoped than had faith, that she would listen to your proposals. I thought that perhaps the earnestness of the princess, with the Queen's strong affection for her, together with the weight of your family and name, might prevail. But then I have asked myself, if it were reasonable to indulge such a hope. The Queen is right in stating as she did her dependence, in some sort, upon the people. It is they, as well as she, who are looking forward to this Persian marriage. I know not what discontents would break out were Hormisdas postponed to Piso—Persia to Rome. My position, Lucius, I think a sadder one than Zenobia's. I love Julia as dearly as Zenobia, and you a great deal more than Zenobia does, and would fain see you happy; and yet I love Palmyra I dare not say how much—nor that, if by such an act good might come to my country, I could almost wish that Julia should live in Persia.'

I have within me a better ground of hope than is guessed either by the Queen or Fausta, but yet can name it not. I mention this to you, and pass to other things.

* * * * *

The city has to-day been greatly moved, owing to the expected audience of our ambassadors before the council, and their final answer. The streets are thronged with multitudes not engaged in the active affairs of traffic, but standing in larger or smaller crowds talking, and hearing or telling news, as it arrives from the palace or from abroad.

* * * * *

The die is cast The ambassadors are dismissed. The decision of the council has been confirmed by the senate, and Varro and Petronius have with their train departed from the city. War therefore is begun. For it was the distinct language of the embassy, that no other terms need be proposed, nor would be accepted, beside those offered by them. None others have been offered on the part of Palmyra. And the ambassadors have been delayed rather to avoid the charge of unreasonable precipitancy, than in the belief that the public mind would incline to or permit any reply more moderate than that which they have borne back to the emperor.

It is understood that Aurelian, with an army perfectly equipped, stands waiting, ready to start for Asia on the arrival of the ambassadors or their couriers. From your last letters I gather as much. How, again I ask—as I have often asked both myself and the principal persons here—how is it possible there should be but one issue to this contest? Yet from language which I heard in the senate, as well as in the private apartments of the Queen, there is a mad confidence, that after a battle or two on the outskirts of the kingdom, in which they shall conquer as always heretofore, an advantageous peace will end the contest. In the senate, scarce a voice was raised for concession; its mere mention was enough to bring down the most bitter charges of a want of patriotism, a Roman leaning, a sordid regard to the interests of commerce over those of honor, a poor and low-minded spirit. Such as had courage to lift up a warning voice were soon silenced by the universal clamor of the opposite party; and although the war was opposed by some of the ablest men in the kingdom, men inferior to none of those who have come more especially within my notice, and whom I have named to you, yet it is termed a unanimous decision, and so will be reported at Rome.

The simple truth is however that, with the exception of these very few, there is no independent judgment in Palmyra, on great national questions. The Queen is all in all. She is queen, council and senate. Here are the forms of a republican deliberation, with the reality of a despotic will. Not that Zenobia is a despotic prince, in any bad sense of the term, but being of so exalted a character, ruling with such equity and wisdom; moreover having created the kingdom by her own unrivalled energies and genius, it has become the habit of the people to defer to her in all things; their confidence and love are so deep and fervent, that they have no will nor power now, I believe, to oppose her in any measure she might propose. The city and country of Palmyra proper are her property in as real a sense as my five hundred slaves, on my Tiburtine farm, are mine. Nor is it very much otherwise with many of the nearer allied provinces. The same enthusiasm pervades them. Her watchfulness over their interests, her impartiality, her personal oversight of them by means of the frequent passages she makes among them, have all contributed to knit them to her by the closest ties. With the more remote portions of the empire it is very different, and it would require the operation of but slight causes to divide from their allegiance Egypt, Armenia, and the provinces of Asia Minor.

How is not this rashness, this folly, to be deplored! Could the early counsels of Longinus have been but heeded, all had been well. But he is now as much devoted to the will and interests of Zenobia as any in the kingdom, and lends all the energies of his great mind to the promotion of her cause. He said truly, that he like others is but a slave yoked to her car. His opinion now is, that no concessions would avail to preserve the independent existence of Palmyra. The question lies between war and a voluntary descent to the condition of a Roman province. Nothing less than that will satisfy the ambition and the pride of Rome. The first step may be such as that proposed by Varro—the lopping off of the late conquered provinces, leaving Zenobia the city, the circumjacent territory, and Syria. But a second step would soon follow the first, and the foot of Aurelian would plant itself upon the neck of Zenobia herself. This he felt assured of, both from observation upon the Roman character and history, upon the personal character of Aurelian, and from private advices from Rome. He is now accordingly the moving spirit of the enterprise, going with all his heart and mind into every measure of the Queen.

I am just returned from a singular adventure. My hand trembles as I write. I had laid down my pen and gone forth upon my Arab, accompanied by Milo, to refresh and invigorate my frame after our late carousal—shall I term it?—at the palace. I took my way, as I often do, to the Long Portico, that I might again look upon its faultless beauty and watch the changing crowds. Turning from that, I then amused my vacant mind by posting myself where I could overlook, as if I were indeed the builder or superintendent, the laborers upon the column of Aurelian. I became at length particularly interested in the efforts of a huge elephant, who was employed in dragging up to the foundations of the column, so that they might he fastened to machines to be then hoisted to their place, enormous blocks of marble. He was a noble animal, and, as it seemed to me, of far more than common size and strength. Yet did not his utmost endeavors appear to satisfy the demands of those who drove him, and who plied without mercy the barbed scourges which they bore. His temper at length gave way. He was chained to a mass of rock, which it was evidently beyond his power to move. It required the united strength of two at least. But this was nothing to his inhuman masters. They ceased not to urge him with cries and blows. One of them at length, transported by that insane fury which seizes the vulgar when their will is not done by the brute creation, laid hold upon a long lance, terminated with a sharp iron goad, long as my sword, and rushing upon the beast, drove it into his hinder part. At that very moment the chariot of the Queen, containing Zenobia herself, Julia, and the other princesses, came suddenly against the column, on its way to the palace. I made every possible sign to the charioteer to turn and fly. But it was too late. The infuriated monster snapped the chains that held him to the stone, at a single bound, as the iron entered him, and trampling to death one of his drivers, dashed forward to wreak his vengeance upon the first object that should come in his way. That, to the universal terror and distraction of the now scattered and flying crowds, was the chariot of the Queen. Her mounted guards, at the first onset of the maddened animal, putting their horses to their speed, by quick leaps escaped. The horses attached to the chariot, springing forward to do the same, urged by the lash of the charioteer, were met by the elephant with straightened trunk and tail, who, in the twinkling of an eye, wreathed his proboscis round the neck of the first he encountered, and wrenching him from his harness, whirled him aloft and dashed him to the ground. This I saw was the moment to save the life of the Queen, if it was indeed to be saved. Snatching from a flying soldier his long spear, and knowing well the temper of my horse, I ran upon the monster as he disengaged his trunk from the crushed and dying Arabian for a new assault, and drove it with unerring aim into his eye, and through that opening on into the brain. He fell as if a bolt from heaven had struck him. The terrified and struggling horses of the chariot were secured by the now returning crowds, and the Queen and the princesses relieved from the peril which was so imminent, and had blanched with terror every cheek but Zenobia's. She had stood the while, I was told—there being no exertion which she could make—watching with eager and intense gaze my movements, upon which she felt that their safety, perhaps their lives, depended.

It all passed in a moment. Soon as I drew out my spear from the dying animal, the air was rent with the shouts of the surrounding populace. Surely, at that moment I was the greatest, at least the most fortunate, man in Palmyra. These approving shouts, but still more the few words uttered by Zenobia and Julia, were more than recompense enough for the small service I had performed; especially, however, the invitation of the Queen:

'But come, noble Piso, leave not the work half done; we need now a protector for the remainder of the way. Ascend, if you will do us such pleasure, and join us to the palace.'

I needed no repeated urging, but taking the offered seat—whereupon new acclamations went up from the now augmented throngs—I was driven, as I conceived, in a sort of triumph to the palace, where passing an hour, which it seems to me held more than all the rest of my life, I have now returned to my apartment, and relate what has happened for your entertainment. You will not wonder that for many reasons my hand trembles, and my letters are not formed with their accustomed exactness.

Again I am interrupted. What can be the meaning of the noise and running to and fro which I hear? Some one with a quick, light foot approaches.

It is now night. The palace is asleep, but I take again my pen to tell you of the accomplishment of the dear object for which I have wandered to this distant spot. Calpurnius is arrived!

The quick, light foot by which I was disturbed was Fausta's. I knew it, and sprang to the door. She met me with her bright and glowing countenance bursting with expression. 'Calpurnius!' said she, 'your brother! is here'—and seizing my hand drew me to the apartment where he sat by the side of Gracchus; Isaac, with his inseparable pack, standing near.

I need not, as I cannot, describe our meeting. It was the meeting of brothers—yet of strangers—and a confusion of wonder, curiosity, vague expectation, and doubt, possessed the soul of each. I trust and believe, that notwithstanding the different political bias which sways each, the ancient ties which bound us together as brothers will again unite us. The countenance of Calpurnius, though dark and almost stern in its general expression, yet unbends and relaxes frequently and suddenly, in a manner that impresses you forcibly with an inward humanity as the presiding though often concealed quality of his nature. I can trace faintly the features which have been stamped upon my memory—and the form too—chiefly by the recollected scene of that bright morning, when he with our elder brother and venerable parent gave me each a last embrace, as they started for the tents of Valerian. A warmer climate has deepened the olive of his complexion, and at the same time added brilliancy to an eye by nature soft as a woman's. His Persian dress increases greatly the effect of his rare beauty, yet I heartily wish it off, as it contributes more I believe than the lapse of so many years to separate us. He will not seem and feel as a brother till he returns to the costume of his native land. How great this power of mere dress is upon our affections and our regard, you can yourself bear witness, when those who parted from you to travel in foreign countries have returned metamorphosed into Greeks, Egyptians, or Persians, according to the fashions that have struck their foolish fancies. The assumed and foreign air chills the untravelled heart as it greets them. They are no longer the same. However the reason may strive to overcome what seems the mere prejudice of a wayward nature, we strive in vain—nature will be uppermost—and many, many times have I seen the former friend-ships break away and perish.

I could not but be alive to the general justness of the comparison instituted by Isaac, between Calpurnius and Julia. There are many points of resemblance. The very same likeness in kind that we so often observe between a brother and sister—such as we have often remarked in our nephew and niece, Drusus and Lavinia—whose dress being changed, and they are changed.

No sooner had I greeted and welcomed my brother, than I turned to Isaac and saluted him, I am persuaded, with scarcely less cordiality.

'I sincerely bless the gods,' said I, 'that you have escaped the perils of two such passages through the desert, and are safe in Palmyra. May every wish of your heart, concerning your beloved Jerusalem, be accomplished. In the keeping of Demetrius will you find not only the single talent agreed upon in case you returned, but the two which were to be paid had you perished. One such tempest upon the desert, escaped, is more and worse than death itself met softly upon one's bed.'

'Now, Jehovah be praised,' ejaculated Isaac, 'who himself has moved thy heart to this grace! Israel will feel this bounty through every limb, it will be to her as the oil of life.'

'And my debt,' said Calpurnius, 'is greater yet, and should in reason be more largely paid. Through the hands of Demetrius I will discharge it.'

'We are all bound to you,' said Fausta, 'more than words can tell or money pay.'

'You owe more than you are perhaps aware of to the rhetoric of Isaac,' added Calpurnius. 'Had it not been for the faithful zeal and cunning of your messenger in his arguments not less than his contrivances, I had hardly now been sitting within the walls of Palmyra.'

'But then again, noble Roman,' said Isaac, 'to be honest, I ought to say what I said not—for it had not then occurred—in my letter to thy brother, how by my indiscretion I had nearly brought upon myself the wrath, even unto death, of a foul Persian mob, and so sealed thy fate together with my own. Ye have heard doubtless of Manes the Persian, who deems himself some great one, and sent of God? It was noised abroad ere I left Palmyra, that for failing in a much boasted attempt to work a cure by miracle upon the Prince Hormisdas, he had been strangled by order of Sapor. Had he done so, his love of death-doing had at length fallen upon a proper object, a true child of Satan. But as I can testify, his end was not such, and is not yet. He still walks the earth, poisoning the air he breathes, and deluding the souls of men. Him I encountered one day, the very day I had despatched thy letter, in the streets of Ecbatana, dogged at the heels by his twelve ragged apostles, dragging along their thin and bloodless limbs, that seemed each step ready to give way beneath the weight, little as it was, they had to bear. Their master, puffed up with the pride of a reformer, as forsooth he holds himself, stalked by at their head, drawing the admiration of the besotted people by his great show of sanctity, and the wise saws which every now and then he let drop for the edification of such as heard. Some of these sayings fell upon my ear, and who was I, to hear them and not speak? Ye may know that this false prophet has made it his aim to bring into one the Magian and Christian superstitions, so that by such incongruous and deadly mixture he might feed the disciples of those two widely sundered religions, retaining, as he foolishly hoped, enough of the faith of each to satisfy all who should receive the compound. In doing this he hath cast dirt upon the religion of the Jew, blasphemously teaching that our sacred books are the work of the author of evil, while those of Christ are by the author of good. With more zeal, it must be confessed, than wisdom, seeing where I was and why I was there, I resisted this father of lies, and withstood him to his face. 'Who art thou, bold blasphemer,' I said, 'that takest away the Godhead, breaking into twain that which is infinite and indivisible? Who art thou to tread into the dust the faith of Abraham, and Moses, and the prophets, imputing their words, uttered by the spirit of Jehovah, to the great enemy of mankind? I wonder, people of Ecbatana, that the thunders of God sleep, and strike him not to the earth as a rebel—nay, that the earth cleaveth not beneath him and swalloweth him not up, as once before the rebels Korah, Dathan, and Abiram;' and much more in the same mad way, till while I was yet speaking, those lean and hungry followers of his set upon me with violence, crying out against me as a Jew, and stirring up the people, who were nothing unwilling, but fell upon me, and throwing me down, dragged me to a gate of the city, and casting me out as I had been a dead dog, returned themselves like dogs to their vomit—that accursed dish of Manichean garbage. I believed myself for a long while surely dead; and in my half conscious state took shame to myself, as I was bound to do, for meddling in the affairs of Pagan misbelievers—putting thy safety at risk. Through the compassion of an Arab woman dwelling without the walls, I was restored and healed—for whose sake I shall ever bless the Ishmaelite. I doubt not, Roman, while I lay at the hut of that good woman, thou thoughtest me a false man?'

'I could not but think so,' said Calpurnius, 'and after the strong desire of escape which you had at length kindled, I assure you I heaped curses upon you in no stinted measure.'

'But all has ended well and so all is well,' said Fausta, 'and it was perhaps too much to expect, Isaac, that you should stand quietly by and hear the religion of your fathers traduced. You are well rewarded for what you did and suffered, by the light in which your tribe will now regard you, as an almost-martyr, and owing to no want of will, or endeavor on your part, that almost did not end in quite. Hannibal, good Isaac, will now see to your entertainment.'

'One word if it please you,' said Isaac, 'before I depart. The gentile despises the Jew. He charges upon him usury and extortion. He accuses him of avarice. He believes him to subsist upon the very life blood of whomsoever he can draw into his meshes. I have known those who have firm faith that the Jew feeds but upon the flesh and blood of Pagan and Christian infants, whom, by necromantic power, he beguiles from their homes. He is held as the common enemy of man, a universal robber, whom all are bound to hate and oppress. Reward me now with your belief, better than even the two gold talents I have earned, that all are not such. This is the charity, and all that I would beg; and I beg it of you, for that I love you all, and would have your esteem. Believe that in the Jew there is a heart of flesh as well as in a dog. Believe that some noble ambition visits his mind as well as yours. Credit it not—it is against nature—that any tribe of man is what you make the Jew. Look upon me, and behold the emblem of my tribe. What do you see? A man bent with years and toil; this ragged tunic his richest garb; his face worn with the storms of all climates; a wanderer over the earth; my home—Piso, thou hast seen it—a single room, with my good dromedary's furniture for my bed at night, and my seat by day; this pack my only apparent wealth. Yet here have I now received two gold talents of Jerusalem!—what most would say were wealth enough, and this is not the tythe of that which I possess. What then? Is it for that I love obscurity, slavery, and a beggar's raiment, that I live and labor thus, when my wealth would raise me to a prince's state? Or is it that I love to sit and count my hoarded gains? Good friends, for such you are, believe it not. You have found me faithful and true to my engagements; believe my word also. You have heard of Jerusalem, once the chief city of the East, where stood the great temple of our faith, and which was the very heart of our nation, and you know how it was beleaguered by the Romans, and its very foundations rooted up, and her inhabitants driven abroad as outcasts, to wander over the face of the earth, with every where a country, but no where a home. And does the Jew, think you, sit down quietly under these wrongs? Trajan's reign may answer that. Is there no patriotism yet alive in the bosom of a Jew? Will every other toil and die for his country and not the Jew? Believe me again, the prayers which go up morning, noon and night, for the restoration of Jerusalem, are not fewer than those which go up for Rome or Palmyra. And their deeds are not less; for every prayer there are two acts. It is for Jerusalem! that you behold me thus in rags, and yet rich. It is for her glory that I am the servant of all and the scorn of all, that I am now pinched by the winters of Byzantium, now scorched by the heats of Asia, and buried beneath the sands of the desert. All that I have and am is for Jerusalem. And in telling you of myself, I have told you of my tribe. What we do and are is not for ourselves, but for oar country. Friends, the hour of our redemption draweth nigh. The Messiah treads in the steps of Zenobia! and when the East shall behold the disasters of Aurelian—as it will—it will behold the restoration of that empire, which is destined in the lapse of ages to gather to itself the glory and dominion of the whole earth.'

Saying these words, during which he seemed no longer Isaac the Jew, but the very Prince of the Captivity himself, he turned and took his departure.

Long and earnest conversation now ensued, in which we received from Calpurnius the most exact accounts of his whole manner of life during his captivity; of his early sufferings and disgraces, and his late honors and elevation; and gave in return similar details concerning the history of our family and of Rome, during the same period of time. I will not pretend to set down the narrative of Calpurnius. It was delivered with a grace which I can by no means transfer to these pages. I trust you may one day hear it from his own lips. Neither can I tell you how beautiful it was to see Fausta hanging upon his words, with a devotion that made her insensible to all else—her varying color and changing expression showing how deeply she sympathized with the narrator. When he had ended, and we had become weary of the excitement of this first interview, Fausta proposed that we should separate to meet again at supper. To this we agreed.

According to the proposal of Fausta, we were again, soon as evening had come, assembled around the table of the princely Gracchus.

When we had partaken of the luxuries of the feast, and various lighter discourse had caused the time to pass by in an agreeable manner, I said thus, turning to my brother:

'I would, Calpurnius, that the temper of one's mind could as easily be changed as one's garments. You now seem to me, having put off your Persian robes, far more like Piso than before. Your dress, though but in part Roman and part Palmyrene, still brings you nearer. Were it wholly Roman it were better. Is nothing of the Persian really put off, and nothing of the Roman put on, by this change?'

'Whatever of the Persian there was about me,' replied Calpurnius, 'I am free to say I have laid aside with my Persian attire. I was a Persian not by choice and preference, I need scarcely assure you, but by a sort of necessity, just as it was with my costume. I could not procure Roman clothes if I would. I could not help too putting off the Roman—seeing how I was dealt by—and putting on the Persian. Yet I part with whatever of the Persian has cleaved to me without reluctance—would it were so that I could again assume the Roman—but that can never be. But Isaac has already told you all.'

'Isaac has indeed informed me in his letter from Ecbatana, that you had renounced your country, and that it was the expectation of war with Rome that alone had power to draw you from your captivity. But I have not believed that you would stand by that determination. The days of republican patriotism I know are passed, but even now under the empire our country has claims and her children owe her duties.'

'The figure is a common one,' Calpurnius answered, 'by which our country is termed a parent, and we her children. Allow it just. Do I owe obedience to an unjust or tyrannical parent? to one who has abandoned me in helplessness or exposed me in infancy? Are not the natural ties then sundered?'

'I think not,' I replied; 'no provocation nor injury can justify a parricidal blow. Our parent is our creator—in some sense a God to us. The tie that binds us to him is like no other tie; to do it violence, is not only a wrong, but an impiety.'

'I cannot think so,' he rejoined. 'A parent is our creator, not so much for our good as his own pleasure. In the case of the gods this is reversed: they have given us being for our advantage, not theirs. We lie under obligation to a parent then, only as he fulfils the proper duties of one. When he ceases to be virtuous, the child must cease to respect. When he ceases to be just, or careful, or kind, the child must cease to love. And from whomsoever else then the child receives the treatment, becoming a parent, that person is to him the true parent. It is idle to be governed by names rather than things; it is more, it is mischievous and injurious.'

'I still am of opinion,' I replied, 'that nature has ordained what I have asserted to be an everlasting and universal truth, by the instincts which she has implanted. All men, of all tribes, have united in expressions of horror against him who does violence to his parents. And have not the poets truly painted, when they have set before us the parricide, forever after the guilty act, pursued by the Furies, and delivered over to their judicial torments?'

'All instincts,' he replied, 'are not to be defended: some animals devour their own young as soon as born. Vice is instinctive. If it be instinctive to honor, and love, and obey a vicious parent, to be unresisting under the most galling oppression, then I say, the sooner reason usurps the place of instinct the safer for mankind. No error can be more gross or hurtful, than to respect vice because of the person in whom it is embodied, even though that person be a parent. Vice is vice, injustice is injustice, wrong is wrong, wheresoever they are found; and are to be detested and withstood. But I might admit that I am in an error here; and still maintain my cause by denying the justice of the figure by which our country is made our parent, and our obligations to her made to rest on the same ground. It is mere fancy, it is a nullity, unless it be true, as I think it is, that it has been the source of great mischiefs to the world, in which case it cannot be termed a nullity, but something positively pernicious. What age of the world can be named when an insane devotion to one's country has not been the mother of war upon war, evil upon evil, beyond the power of memory to recount? Patriotism, standing for this instinctive slavery of the will, has cursed as much as it has blessed mankind. Men have not reasoned, they have only felt: they have not inquired, is the cause of my country just—but is it her cause? That has ever been the cry in Rome. "Our country! our country!—right or wrong—our country!" It is a maxim good for conquest and despotism; bad, for peace and justice. It has made Rome mistress of the world, and at the same time the scourge of the world, and trodden down into their own blood-stained soil the people of many a clime, who had else dwelt in freedom. I am no Roman in this sense, and ought never to have been. Admit that I am not justified in raising my hand against the life of a parent—though if I could defend myself against violence no otherwise, I should raise that hand—I will never allow that I am to approve and second with my best blood all the acts of my country; but when she errs am bound, on the other hand, to blame, and if need be oppose. Why not? What is this country? Men like myself. Who enact the decrees by which I am to be thus bound? Senators, no more profoundly wise perhaps, and no more irreproachably virtuous, than myself. And do I owe their judgments, which I esteem false, a dearer allegiance than I do to my own, which I esteem right and true? Never: such patriotism is a degradation and a vice. Rome, Lucius, I think to have dealt by me and the miserable men who, with me, fell into the hands of Sapor, after the manner of a selfish, cold-hearted, unnatural parent, and I renounce her, and all allegiance to her. I am from this hour a Palmyrene, Zenobia is my mother, Palmyra my country.'

'But,' I could not but still urge, 'should no distinction be made between your country and her emperor? Is the country to rest under the imputation which is justly perhaps cast upon him? That were hardly right. To renounce Gallienus, were he now emperor, were a defensible act: But why Rome or Aurelian?'

'I freely grant, that had a just emperor been put upon the throne, a man with human feelings, the people, had he projected our rescue or revenge, would have gone with him. But how is their conduct to be defended during the long reign of the son of Valerian? Was such a people as the people of Rome to conform their minds and acts to a monster like him? Was that the part of a great nation? Is it credible that the senate and the people together, had no power to compel Gallienus to the performance of his duties to his own father, and the brave legions who fell with him? Alas! they too wanted the will.'

'O not so, Calpurnius,' I rejoined; 'Gallienus wished the death or captivity of his father, that he might reign. To release him was the last act that wretch could have been urged to do. And could he then have been made to interpose for the others? He might have been assassinated, but all the power of Rome could not have compelled him to a war, the issue of which might have been, by the rescue of Valerian, to lose him his throne.'

'Then he should have been assassinated. Rome owed herself a greater duty than allegiance to a beast in human form.'

'But, Galpurnius, you now enjoy your liberty. Why consider so curiously whence it comes? Besides, you have, while in Persia, dwelt in comfort, and at last even in magnificence. The Prince himself has been your companion and friend.'

'What was it,' he replied, 'what was it, when I reflected upon myself, but so much deeper degradation, to find that in spite of myself I was every day sinking deeper and deeper in Persian effeminacy? What was it but the worst wretchedness of all to feel as I did, that I, a Roman and a Piso, was losing my nature as I had lost my country? If any thing served to turn my blood into one hot current of bitterness and revenge, it was this. It will never cool till I find myself, sword in hand, under the banners of Zenobia. Urge me no more: it were as hopeful an endeavor to stem the current of the Euphrates, as to turn me from my purpose. I have reasoned with you because you are a brother, not because you are a Roman.'

'And I,' I replied, 'can still love you, because you are a brother, nor less because you are also a Palmyrene. I greet you as the head of our house, the elder heir of an illustrious name. I still will hope, that when these troubles cease, Rome may claim you as her own.'

'No emperor,' he answered, 'unless he were a Piso, I fear, would permit a renegade of such rank ever to dwell within the walls of Rome. Let me rather hope, that when this war is ended, Portia may exchange Rome for Palmyra, and that here, upon this fair and neutral ground, the Pisos may once more dwell beneath the same roof.'

'May it be so,' said Gracchus; 'and let not the heats of political opposition change the kindly current of your blood, nor inflame it. You, Lucius Piso, are to remember the provocations of Calpurnius, and are to feel that there was a nobleness in that sensibility to a declension into Persian effeminacy that, to say the least, reflects quite as much honor upon the name of Piso, and even Roman, as any loyalty to an emperor like Gallienus, or that senate filled with his creatures. And you, Calpurnius Piso, are to allow for that instinctive veneration for every thing Roman which grows up with the Roman, and even in spite of his better reason ripens into a bigotry that deserves the name of a crime rather than a virtue, and are to consider, that while in you the growth of this false sentiment has been checked by causes, in respect to which you were the sport of fortune, so in Lucius it has been quickened by other causes over which he also was powerless. But to utter my belief, Lucius I think is now more than half Palmyrene, and I trust yet, if committed as he has been to the further tuition of our patriot Fausta, will be not only in part, but altogether of our side.'

'In the mean time, let us rejoice,' said Fausta, 'that the noble Calpurnius joins our cause. If we may judge by the eye, the soft life of a Persian Satrap has not quite exhausted the native Roman vigor.'

'I have never intermitted,' replied Calpurnius, 'martial exercises: especially have I studied the whole art of horsemanship, so far as the chase and military discipline can teach it. It is in her cavalry, as I learn, that Zenobia places her strength: I shall there, I trust, do her good service.'

'In the morning,' said Fausta, 'it shall be my office to bring you before our Queen.'

'And now, Fausta,' said Gracchus,'bring your harp, and let music perfect the harmony which reason and philosophy have already so well begun; music—which for its power over our souls, may rather be held an influence of the gods, a divine breathing, than any thing of mortal birth.'

'I fear,' said Fausta, as she touched the instrument—the Greek and not the Jewish harp—'I shall still further task your philosophy; for I can sing nothing else than the war-song, which is already heard all through the streets of Palmyra, and whose author, it is said, is no less than our chief spirit, Longinus. Lucius, you must close your ears.'

'Never, while your voice sounds, though bloody treason were the only burden.'

'You are a gentle Roman.'

Then after a brief but fiery prelude, which of itself struck by her fingers was enough to send life into stones, she broke forth into a strain, abrupt and impassioned, of wild Pindaric energy, that seemed the very war-cry of a people striking and dying for liberty. Her voice, inspired by a soul too large for mortal form, rang like a trumpet through the apartment, and seemed to startle the gods themselves at their feast. As the hymn moved on to its perfect close, and the voice of Fausta swelled with the waxing theme, Calpurnius seemed like one entranced; unconsciously he had left his seat, and there, in the midst of the room, stood before the divine girl converted to a statue. As she ceased, the eyes of Calpurnius fell quickly upon me, with an expression which I instantly interpreted, and should have instantly returned, but that we were all alike roused out of ourselves by the loud shouts of a multitude without the palace, who apparently had been drawn together by the far-reaching tones of Fausta's voice, and who, as soon as the last strings of the harp were touched, testified their delight by reiterated and enthusiastic cries.

'When Zabdas and Zenobia fail,' said Calpurnius, 'you, daughter of Gracchus, may lead the armies of your country by your harp and voice; they would inspire not less than the fame of Caesar or Aurelian.'

'But be it known to you. Piso,' said Gracchus, 'that this slight girl can wield a lance or a sword, while centaur-like she grows to the animal she rides, as well as sweep these idle strings.'

'I will learn of her in either art,' replied my brother. 'As I acknowledge no instinct which is to bind me to an unjust parent, but will give honor only where there is virtue, so on the field of war I will enlist under any leader in whom I behold the genius of a warrior, be that leader man or woman, boy or girl.'

'I shall be satisfied,' said Fausta, 'to become your teacher in music, that is, if you can learn through the force of example alone. Take now another lesson. Zenobia shall teach you the art of war.'

With these words she again passed her fingers over her harp, and after strains of melting sweetness, prolonged till our souls were wholly subdued to the sway of the gentler emotions, she sang in words of Sappho, the praise of love and peace, twin-sisters. And then as we urged, or named to her, Greek or Roman airs which we wished to hear, did she sing and play till every sense was satisfied and filled.

It needs not so much sagacity as I possess to perceive the effect upon my brother of the beauty and powers of Fausta. He speaks with difficulty when he addresses her, and while arguing or conversing with me or Gracchus, his eye seeks her countenance, and then falls as it encounters hers, as if he had committed some crime. Fausta, I am sure, is not insensible to the many rare and striking qualities of Calpurnius: but her affections can be given only where there is a soul of very uncommon elevation. Whether Calpurnius is throughout that, which he seems to be, and whether he is worthy the love of a being like Fausta, I know not yet, though I am strong in faith that it is so. In the mean time, a mutual affection is springing up and growing upon the thin soil of the fancy, and may reach a quick and rank luxuriance before it shall be discovered that there is nothing more substantial beneath. But why indulge a single doubt? only, I suppose, because I would rather Rome should fall than that any harm come to the heart of Fausta.

* * * * *

It was a little after the noon of this day that the ambassadors, Petronius and Varro, passed from out the gates of Palmyra, bearing with them a virtual declaration of war.

The greatest excitement prevails. The streets are already filled with sights and sounds admonitory of the scenes which are soon to be disclosed. There is the utmost enthusiasm in every quarter, and upon every face you behold the confidence and pride of those who, accustomed to conquest, are about to extend their dominion over new territories, and to whom war is a game of pleasure rather than a dark hazard, that may end in utter desolation and ruin. Intrenched within these massy walls, the people of this gay capital cannot realise war. Its sounds have ever been afar off, beyond the wide sweep of the deserts; and will be now, so they judge—and they are scarcely turned for a moment, or by the least remove, from their accustomed cares or pleasures.



Letter XII.



I lament to hear of the disturbance among your slaves, and of the severity with which you have thought it necessary to proceed against them. You will bear me witness that I have often warned you that the cruelty with which Tiro exercised his authority would lead to difficulties, if not to violence and murder. I am not surprised to learn his fate: I am indeed very free to say that I rejoice at it. I rejoice not that you are troubled in your affairs, but that such an inhuman overseer as Tiro, a man wholly unworthy the kindness and indulgence with which you have treated him, should at length be overtaken by a just retribution. That the poison took effect upon his wife and children I sincerely regret, and wish that some other mode of destruction had been chosen, whose effects could have been safely directed and limited, for I do not believe that the least ill-will existed toward Claudia and her little ones. But rest satisfied, I beseech you, with the punishments already inflicted: enough have been scourged, put to the torture, and crucified: let the rest escape. Remember your disposition, now indulgent, now tyrannical, and lay a restraint upon your passions if you would save yourself from lasting regrets. It is some proof that you are looking to yourself more than formerly, that so many have been imprisoned to wait a further deliberation, and that you are willing first to ask my opinion. Be assured that further crucifixions would serve only to exasperate those who survive, and totally alienate them from you, so that your own life instead of being the more safe, would be much less so. They will be driven to despair, and say that they may as well terminate their wretched lives in one way as another, and so end all at once by an assault upon yourself and Lucilia, which, while it destroyed you, and so glutted their revenge, could do no more than destroy them—a fate which they dread now—but which at all times, owing to their miseries, they dread much less than we suppose, and so are more willing than we imagine to take the lives of their masters or governors, not caring for death themselves. A well-timed lenity would now be an act of policy as well as of virtue. Those whom you have reprieved, being pardoned, will be bound to you by a sort of gratitude—those of them at least who put a value upon their lives—and now that Tiro is fairly out of the way, and his scourgings at an end, they will all value their lives at a higher rate than before.

But let me especially intercede for Laco and Caelia, with their children. It was they, who, when I have been at your farm, have chiefly attended upon me; they have done me many acts of kindness beyond the mere duties of their office, and have ever manifested dispositions so gentle, and so much above their condition, that I feel sure they cannot be guilty of taking any part in the crime. They have been always too happy, to put their all at risk by such an attempt. Be assured they are innocent; and they are too good to be sacrificed merely for the effect. There are others, wretches in all respects, who will serve for this, if enough have not already suffered.

When will sentiments of justice assert their supremacy in the human mind? When will our laws and institutions recognise the rights inherent in every man, as man, and compel their observance? When I reflect that I myself possess, upon one only of my estates, five hundred slaves, over whom I wield despotic power, and that each one of these differs not from myself except in the position into which fortune and our laws have cast him, I look with a sort of horror upon myself, the laws, and my country which enacts and maintains them. But if we cannot at once new-model our institutions and laws, we can do something. By a strict justice, and by merciful treatment, we can mitigate the evils of their lot who are within our own power. We can exercise the authority and temper of fathers, and lay aside in a greater degree than we do, the air and manner of tyrant. When upon the fields of every farm, as I ride through our interior, I hear the lash of the task-master, and behold the cross rearing aloft its victim to poison the air with foetid exhalations and strike terror into all who toil within their reach, I hate my country and my nature, and long for some power to reveal itself, I care not of what kind nor in what quarter, capable to reform a state of society, rotten as this is to its very heart.

You yourself, advocate as you are for the existing order of things, would be agitated alternately by horror and compassion, were I to relate to you the scenes described to me by Milo, as having a thousand times been witnessed by him when in the service of Gallienus. To torture and destroy his slaves, by the most ingenious devices of cruelty, was his daily pastime. They were purchased for this very end. When I see you again, I will give you instances with which I could not soil these pages. Antiochus, were he in Rome, would be a monster of the same stamp. But all this is, as I have often mentioned, a necessary accompaniment of such power as the laws confer upon the owner.

And now, that war has actually broken out between Palmyra and Rome, you will wish to know what part I intend to take. Your letters imply, that in such an event you would expect my immediate return. But this pleasure must, for the present at least, he deferred. I am too deeply interested in too many here, to allow me to forsake them in a time of so much anxiety, and as I think of peril too. Zenobia's full consent I have already obtained: indeed, she is now desirous that I should remain. The services that I have accidentally rendered her have increased the regard with which she treats me. I confess too that I am less unwilling to remain than I was, out of a rooted disapprobation of the violent course of Aurelian. I cannot, as Calpurnius has done, renounce my country; but I can blame our emperor. His purposes are without a color of justice: nor are they only unjust and iniquitous, they are impolitic. I can enter fully into and defend the feelings and arguments of Palmyra in this direction. Her cause is in the main a just one. She has done somewhat indeed to provoke a sensitive and jealous mind; but nothing to warrant the step which Aurelian is taking. And when I counsel peace, and by concessions too, I do it not because I hold it right that such concessions should be made, but because I deem it frantic on the part of Zenobia to encounter the combined power of Rome, under such a soldier as Aurelian. My sympathies are accordingly enlisted in behalf of this people as a people; my heart is closely bound to both the house of Gracchus and Zenobia; and therefore I cannot leave them. I shall not bear arms against my country; I think I would sooner die; but in any case of extremity I shall not wear a sword in vain, if by using it I can save the life or honor of persons dear to me. I am firm in the belief, that no such extremity will ever present itself; but should it come, I am ready for it. I cannot but hope that a battle, one or more, upon the outskirts of the empire, will satisfy the pride of Aurelian, and convince the Queen, that to contend for empire with him, and Rome at his back, is vain, and that negotiation will therefore end what passion has begun. I shall expect no other issue than this. Then, having done all here, I shall return to Italy, if the Queen relents not, to pass an unhappy life upon the Tiburtine farm.

Preparations of every kind for the approaching contest are going forward with activity. The camp of the Queen is forming without the walls upon a wide and beautiful plain, stretching towards the south. One army will be formed here chiefly consisting of cavalry, in which lies the strength of the Queen, and another in the vicinity of Antioch, where a junction will be effected, and whence the whole will move either toward the Bosphorus or Egypt, according to the route which, it shall I be learned, Aurelian intends to pursue.

During these few days that have elapsed since the departure of the ambassadors, the stir and confusion incident to such a time have continually increased. In the streets, I meet scarce any who are not engaged in some service connected with the army. Troops of soldiers are forming, exercising at their arms, and passing from the city as they are severally equipped to join the camp. The shops of the armorers resound with the blows of an innumerable body of artisans manufacturing or repairing those brilliant suits of steel for which the cavalry of Zenobia are distinguished. Immense repositories of all the various weapons of our modern warfare, prepared by the Queen against seasons of emergency, furnish forth arms of the most perfect workmanship and metal to all who offer themselves for the expedition. Without the walls in every direction, the eye beholds clouds of dust raised by different bodies of the Queen's forces, as they pour in from their various encampments to one central point. Trains of sumptuary elephants and camels, making a part of every legion as it comes up, and stretching their long lines from the verge of the plain to the very walls, contribute a fresh beauty and interest to the scene.

Within the camp, whatever the tumult and confusion may be without, every thing is conducted with the most admirable order, and with the observance of a discipline as exact, if not as severe, as that of Vespasian, or Aurelian himself. Here are to be seen the commanders of the chief divisions of the army inspecting the arms and equipments of each individual soldier, and not with less diligence inquiring into the mettle and points of the horse he rides. Every horse, pronounced in any way defective, is rejected from the service and another procured. The Queen's stable has been exhausted in providing in this manner substitutes for such as have been set aside as unworthy.

Zenobia herself is the most active and laborious of all. She is in every place, seeing with her own eyes that every arrangement and provision ordered to be made is completed, and that in the most perfect manner. All the duties of a general are performed by her, with a freedom, a power, and a boldness, that fills one with astonishment who is acquainted with those opposite qualities which render her, as a woman, the most lovely and fascinating of her sex. She is seen sometimes driving rapidly through the streets in an open chariot, of the antique form; but more frequently on horseback, with a small body of attendants, who have quite enough to do to keep pace with her, so as to catch from her the orders which she rapidly issues, and then execute them in every part of the camp and city. She inspires all who behold her with her own spirit. In every soldier and leader you behold something of the same alertness and impetuosity of movement which are so remarkable in her. She is the universal model; and the confidence in the resources of her genius is universal and boundless. 'Let our courage and conduct,' they say, 'be only in some good proportion to our Queen's, and we may defy Rome and the world.' As the idea of naught but conquest ever crosses their minds, the animation—even gayety that prevails in the camp and throughout the ranks is scarcely to be believed, as it is, I doubt not, unparalleled in the history of war. Were she a goddess, and omnipotent, the trust in her could not be more unwavering.

I have just encountered Calpurnius returning from the palace of the Queen, whither he has been to offer his services during the war, in any capacity in which it might please her to employ him.

'What was your reception?' said I.

'Such as Fausta had assured me of. She gives me a hearty welcome to her camp, and assigns me a legion of horse. And, in addition, one more charge dearer and yet more anxious a thousand-fold.'

'May I know it?' said I, but readily surmising the nature of it.

'It is,' he replied with visible emotion, 'Fausta herself.'

'It is fixed then that she accompanies the Queen?'

'She entreats, and the Queen consents.'

'Would that she could be turned from this purpose, but I suppose the united power of the East could not do it. To be near Zenobia, and if evil should befall her to share it, or to throw herself as a shield between the Queen and death, is what she pants for more than for renown, though it should be double that of Semiramis.'

'Lucius, have you urged every reason, and used all the power you possess over her, to dissuade her?'

'I have done all I have dared to do. The decisions of some minds, you know, with the motives which sway them, we too much revere to oppose to them our own. Girl though Fausta be, yet when I see by the lofty expression of her countenance, her firm and steadfast eye, that she has taken her part, I have no assurance sufficient to question the rectitude of her determination, or essay to change it. I have more faith in her in myself.'

'Yet it must never be,' said my brother with earnestness; 'she could never support the fatigues of such a campaign, and it must not be permitted that she should encounter the dangers and horrors of actual combat. I have learned that at the palace which, while it has dismissed the most painful apprehensions of one sort, has filled me with others more tolerable, but yet intolerable. How, Lucius? has it happened that your heart, soft in most of its parts, on one side has been adamant?'

'The way of the heart,' I said, 'like the way of Providence, is mysterious. I know not. Perhaps it was that I knew her longer in Rome and more closely than you, and the sentiment always uppermost toward her has been that of a brother's love. Hers toward me has never been other than the free, unrestrained affection of a sister. But you have not seen the Princess?'

'I have not.'

'That will complete the explanation. The Queen rejects me; but I do not despair. But to return to Fausta. As no force could withhold her from the army, I thank the gods that in you she will find a companion and defender, and that to you the Queen has committed her. Fail her not, Calpurnius, in the hour of need. You do not know, for your eye has but taken in her outward form, what a jewel, richer than Eastern monarch ever knew, is entrusted to your care. Keep it as you would your own life, nay, your life will be well given for its safety. Forgive me, if in this I seem to charge you as an elder. Remember that you I do not know, Fausta I do. Of you I scarcely know more than that you are a Piso, and that the very soul of honor ought to dwell within you. The Queen's ready confidence in you, lays you under obligations heavy as injunctions from the gods to fidelity. If, as you journey on toward Antioch, the opportunities of the way throw you together, and your heart is won by your nearer knowledge of her sweet qualities as well as great ones, as your eye has already been, ask not, seek not, for hers, but after a close questioning of yourself whether you are worthy of her. Of your life and the true lineaments of your soul, you know every thing, she knows nothing; but she is more free and unsuspicious than a child, and without looking further than the show and color of honesty and truth, will surrender up her heart where her fancy leads, trusting to find according to her faith, and to receive all that she gives. Brother though you be, I here invoke the curses of the gods upon your head, if the faintest purpose of dishonest or deceptive dealing have place within you.'

'Your words,' said Calpurnius in reply—a wholesome and natural expression of indignation spreading over his countenance, which inspired more confidence than any thing he could say—'your words, Lucius, are earnest and something sharp. But I bear them without complaint, for the sake of the cause in which you have used them. I blame you not. It is true, I am a stranger both to yourself and Fausta, and it were monstrous to ask confidence before time has proved me. Leave it all to time. My conduct under this trust shall be my trial. Not till our return from Antioch will I aim at more than the happiness to be her companion and guard. The noble Otho will be near us, to whom you may commit us both.'

'Brother,' I rejoined, 'I doubt you not; but where our treasure is great, we are tormented by imaginary fears, and we guard it by a thousand superfluous cares, What I have said has implied the existence of doubts and apprehensions, but in sober truth they were forced into existence. My nature from the first has been full of trust in you; but this very promptness to confide, my anxious fears converted to a fault, and urged suspicion as a duty. Your countenance and your words have now inspired me with an assurance, not, I am certain, to be ever shaken, in your virtues. It shall be my joy to impart the same to Gracchus. Fausta shall be left free to the workings of her own mind and heart.'

I should not have been justified, it seems to me, in saying less than this, though I said it with apprehensions, many and grave, of a breach between us, which perhaps time might never heal. It has ended in a deep and settled conviction that the character of Calpurnius is what it at first appears to be. Persian duplicity has made no lodgment within him, of that I am sure. And where you feel sure of sincerity, almost any other fault may be borne.

The army has taken up its march, and the city is deprived of its best and bravest spirits—Zenobia and Fausta, those kindred souls, are gone. How desolate is this vast palace! The loss of Gracchus and Fausta seems the loss of all. A hundred attendant slaves leave it still empty.

A period of the most active preparation has been closed to-day, by the departure of as well appointed an army as ever issued from the Praetorian camps. It was a spectacle as beautiful as my eyes ever beheld—and as sad. Let me set before you the events of the day.

As I descended to the apartment where we take together our morning meal, and which we were now for the last time to partake in each other's company, I found Fausta already there, and surveying with sparkling eyes and a flushed cheek a suit of the most brilliant armor, which having been made by the Queen's workmen, and by her order, had just now been brought and delivered to her.

'I asked the honor,' said the person with whom she was conversing, 'to bring it myself, who have made it with the same care as the Queen's, of the same materials, and after the same fashion. So it was her order to do. It will set, lady, believe me, as easy as a riding dress, though it be all of the most impenetrable steel. The polish too is such, that neither arrow nor javelin need be feared, they can but touch and glance. Hercules could not indent this surface. Let me reveal to you diverse secret and perfect springs and clasps, the use of which you should be well acquainted with. Yet it differs not so much from that in which you have performed your exercises, but you will readily comprehend the manner of its adjustment.'