 | LETTER VIII. Letters of Lucius M. Piso, from Palmyra, to his friend Marcus Curtius at Rome |  |
8. LETTER VIII.
The words of that Christian recluse, my Curtius, still
ring in my ear. I know not how it is, but there is a
strange power in all that I have heard from any of that
sect. You remember how I was struck by the manner,
the countenance, and above all, by the sentiments, of
Probus, the Christian whom I encountered on his way to
Carthage. A still stronger feeling possesses me, when
I hear the same things from the lips of Julia. It seems
as if she herself, and the religion she discourses of, must
proceed from the same author. She is certainly a divine
work. And there is such an alliance between her and
those truths, that I am ready almost to believe that for
this reason alone they must have that very divine origin
which is claimed for them. Is there any thing in our
Roman superstitions, or philosophy, even, that is at all
kindred to the spirit of a perfect woman? — any thing
suited to her nature? Has it ever seemed as if woman
were in any respect the care of the gods? In this, Christianity
differs from all former religions and philosophies.
It is feminine. I do not mean by that, weak or effeminate.
But in its gentleness, in the suavity of its tone, in
the humanity of its doctrines, in the deep love it breathes
toward all of human kind, in the high rank it assigns to
the virtues which are peculiarly those of woman, in these
things and many others, it is throughout for them as well
as for us — almost more for them than for us. In this
feature of it, so strange and new, I see marks of a wisdom
beyond that of any human fabricator. A human inventor
would scarcely have conceived such a system; and could
he have conceived it, would not have dared to publish it.
the favor of the world. The author of christianity,
with a divine boldness, makes his perfect man, in the
purity and beauty of his character, the counterpart of a
perfect woman. The virtues upon which former teachers
have chiefly dwelt, are by him almost unnoticed, and
those soft and feminine ones, which others seem to have
utterly forgotten, he has exalted to the highest place. So
that, as I before said, Julia discoursing to me of christianity
is in herself, in the exact accordance between her
mind and heart and that faith, the strongest argument I
have yet found of its truth. I do not say that I am a
believer. I am not. But I cannot say what the effect
may be of a few more interviews with the hermit of the
mountains, in company with the princess. His arguments,
illustrated by her presence, will carry with them
not a little force.
When, after our interview with the Christian, we had
returned to the queen's villa, we easily persuaded ourselves
that the heat of the day was too great for us to set
out, till toward the close of it, for the city. So we agreed,
in the absence of the queen and other guests, to pass the
day after our own manner, and by ourselves. The princess
proposed that we should confine ourselves to the cool
retreats near the fountain of the elephant, made also more
agreeable to us than any other place by the delightful
hours we had sat there, listening to the melodious accents
of the great Longinus. To this proposal we quickly and
gladly assented. Our garments being then made to correspond
to the excessive heats of the season, soothed by
noise of the falling waters, and fanned by slaves who
waved to and fro huge leaves of the palm tree, cut into
graceful forms, and set in gold or ivory, we resigned ourselves
to that sleepy but yet delicious state which we reach
perfectly satisfied and filled, and merely to live is bliss
enough. But our luxurious ease was slightly diversified
with additions and changes no ways unwelcome.
Ever and anon slaves entered, bearing trays laden with
every rare and curious confection which the art of the
East supplies, but especially, with drinks cooled by snow
brought from the mountains of India. These, in the most
agreeable manner, recruited our strength when exhausted
by fits of merriment, or when one had become weary by
reading or reciting a story for the amusement of the others,
and the others as weary, or more weary, by listening.
It were in vain to attempt to recall for your and Lucilia's
entertainment the many pleasant things which were both
said and done on this day never to be forgotten. And
besides, perhaps, were they set down in order, and sent to
Rome, the spicy flavor which gave life to them here,
might all exhale, and leave them flat and dull. Suffice it,
therefore, to say, that in our judgment many witty and
learned sayings were uttered — for the learning, that
must rest upon our declaration — for the wit, the slaves
will bear witness to it, as they did then, by their unrestrained
bursts of laughter.
It was with no little reluctance, that, as the last rays of
the sun fell upon the highest jet of the fountain, we heard
the princess declare that the latest hour had come, and
we must fain prepare for the city. A little time sufficed
for this, and we were soon upon our horses threading the
defiles among the hills, or flying over the plains. A few
hours brought us within the gates of the city. Leaving
Julia at the palace of the queen, we turned toward the
house of Gracchus. Its noble front soon rose before us.
As we passed into the court-yard, the first sound that
greeted me was Milo's blundering voice: `Welcome,
most noble Gallienus, welcome again to Palmyra!'
`I am not,' said I, `quite an emperor yet, but notwithstanding,
I am glad to be in Palmyra — more glad to be
at the house of Gracchus — and glad most of all to see
Gracchus himself at home, and well' — the noble Roman
— as I shall call him — at that moment issuing from a
door of the palace, and descending at a quick pace the
steps, to assist Fausta from her horse.'
`We are not,' said he, `long separated; but to those
who really love, the shortest separation is a long one, and
the quickest return an occasion of joy.' Saying so, he
embraced and kissed his beautiful daughter, and grasped
cordially my hand.
`Come,' added he, `enter and repose. Your ride has
been a sharp one, as your horses declare, and the heat is
great. Let us to the banqueting-hall, as the coolest, and
there sit and rest.' So we were again soon within that
graceful apartment, where I had first sat and tasted the hospitalities
of Palmyra. The gods above were still at their
feast, drinking or drunken. Below, we sat at the open
windows, and with more temperance regaled ourselves
with the cool air that came to us, richly laden with the
fragrance of surrounding flowers, and with that social
converse that is more inspiring than Falernian, or the
soft Palmyrene. After talking of other things, Gracchus
addressed me, saying:
`But is it not now time, Lucius, that a letter, at least,
came from Isaac? I have forborne to inquire, from time
to time, as I would do nothing to add to your necessary
anxiety. It surely now, however, is right to consider the
steps next to be taken, if he shall have failed in his enterprise.'
`Isaac and Calpurnius,' I replied, `are never absent
from my thoughts, and I have already resolved — the gods
willing and favoring — that when a period of sufficient
having either perished on the way or else in the capital
of the Great King — myself to start, as I at first designed
to do, upon this expedition, and either return with my
brother, or else die, also, in the endeavor. Seek not,
Fausta, as I perceive you are about to do, to turn me
from my purpose. It will be — it ought to be — in vain.
I can consent no longer to live thus in the very heart of
life, while this cloud of uncertainty hangs over the fate of
one so near to me. Though I should depute the service
of his rescue to a thousand others, my own inactivity is
insupportable, and reproaches me like a crime.'
`I was not, as you supposed, Lucius,' replied Fausta,
`about to draw you away from your purpose, but, on the
contrary, to declare my approbation of it. Were I Lucius,
my thoughts would be, I am sure, what yours now are;
and to-morrow's sun would light me on the way to Ecbatana.
Nay, father, I would not wait a day longer. Woman
though I am, I am almost ready to offer myself a
companion of our friend on this pious service.'
`I shall not,' said Gracchus, `undertake to dissuade
our friend from what seems now to be his settled purpose.
Yet still, for our sakes, for the sake of the aged Portia,
and all in Rome, I could wish that — supposing Isaac
should fail — one more attempt might be made in the
same way, ere so much is put at hazard. It needs no
great penetration to see how highly prized by Persia must
be the possession of such a trophy of her prowess as the
head of the noble house of Piso — with what jealousy his
every movement would be watched, and what danger
must wait upon any attempt at his deliverance. Moreover,
while a mere hireling might, if detected, have one
chance among a thousand of pardon and escape, even
that were wanting to you. Another Piso would be either
last, or else he would swing upon a Persian gibbet, and
so would perish the last of a noble name.'
`I cannot deny that reason is on your side,' I said, `in
reply to this strong case of Gracchus, `but feeling is on
mine, and the contest is never an equal one. Feeling is,
perhaps, the essence of reason, of which no account need
or can be given, and ought to prevail. But however this
may be, I feel that I am right, and so I must act.'
`But let us now think of nothing else,' said Fausta,
`than that before another day is ended, we shall get intelligence
of Isaac. Have you, Lucius, inquired, since your
return, of Demetrius?'
`Milo is now absent on that very errand,' I replied,
`and here he is, giving no signs of success.'
Milo at the same moment entered the hall, and stated
that Demetrius was himself absent from the city, but was
every moment expected, and it was known that he had
been seeking anxiously — the preceding day — for me.
While Milo was yet speaking, a messenger was announced,
inquiring for me, and before I could reach the extremity
of the apartment, Demetrius himself entered the
room in haste, brandishing in his hand a letter, which he
knew well to be from Isaac.
`'T is his own hand,' said he. `The form of his letters
is not to be mistaken. Not even the hand of Demetrius
can cut with more grace the Greek character. Observe,
Roman, the fashion of his touch. Isaac would have
guided a rare hand at the graving tool. But these Jews
shun the nicer arts. They are a strange people.'
`Quickly,' said I, interrupting the voluble Greek, `as
you love the gods, deliver to me the letter! Bye and bye
we will discourse of these things' — and, seizing the
it myself.
I cannot tell you, dear friends, with what eagerness I
drank in the contents of the letter, and with what ecstacy
of joy I leaped and shouted at the news it brought. In one
word, my brother lives, and it is possible that before this
epistle to you shall be finished, he himself will sit at my
side. But to put you in possession of the whole case, I
shall transcribe for you the chief parts of Isaac's careful
and minute account, preserving for your amusement much
of what in no way whatever relates to the affair in hand,
and is useful only as it will present a sort of picture of
one of this strange tribe. As soon as I had filled myself
with its transporting contents, I hastened to the hall
where I had left Fausta and Gracchus, to whom — Demetrious
having in the mean time taken his departure — I
quickly communicated its intelligence, and received their
hearty congratulations, and then read it to them very
much as I now transcribe it for you. You will now acknowledge
my obligations to this kind-hearted Jew, and
will devoutly bless the gods for my accidental encounter
with him on board the Mediterranean trader. Here now
is the letter itself.
Isaac, the son of Isaac of Rome, to the most noble
Lucius Manlius Piso, at Palmyra:
That I am alive, Roman, after the perils of my journey,
and the worse perils of this Pagan city, can be
ascribed to nothing else than to the protecting arm of the
God of our nation. It is new evidence to me, that somewhat
is yet to be achieved by my ministry, for the good
of my country. That I am here in this remote and
benighted region, that I should have adventured hither in
the service of a Roman to save one Roman life, when,
from the babe at the breast to the silver head, and lay
waste the kingdoms of the great mother of iniquity with
fire and sword, is to me a thing so wonderful, that I refer
it all to the pleasure of that Power who orders events according
to a plan and wisdom impenetrable by us. Think
not, Roman, that I have journeyed so far, for the sake of
thy two talents of gold — though that is considerable.
And the mention of this draws my mind to a matter, overlooked
in the stipulations entered into between thee and
me, at my dwelling in Palmyra. Singular, that so weighty
a part of that transaction should have been taken no note
of! Now I must trust it wholly to thee, Piso, and feel
that I may safely do so. In case of my death, the double
of the recompense agreed upon was to be paid, in accordance
with directions left. But what was to be done
in case of thy death? Why, most thoughtful Isaac,—most
prudent of men — for this thou didst make no provision!
And yet may not Piso die as well as Isaac? Has a Roman
more lives than a Jew? Nay, how know I but thou art
now dead, and no one living to do me justice? See
to this excellent Roman. Thou wouldst not have me go
unrequited for all this hazard and toil. Let thy heirs be
bound, by sure and legal instruments, to make good to me
all thou hast bound thyself to pay. Do this, and thy gods
and my God prosper thee! Forget it not. Let it be done
as soon as these words are read. Demetrius will show
thee one who will draw up a writing in agreement with
both the Palmyrene and Roman Law. Unheard of heedlessness!
But this I thought not about till I took my pen
to write.
What was I saying? — that I came not for thy gold
— that is, not for that solely or chiefly. For what, and
and why, then? Because, as I have hinted, I felt myself
with patience to know what its issue is to be.
Now let me inform thee of my journey and my doings.
But first, in one brief word, let me relieve thy impatience
by saying, I think thy brother is to be rescued. No more
of this at present, but all in order. When I parted from
thee that night, I had hardly formed my plan, though my
mind, quick in all its workings, did suddenly conceive
one way in which it appeared possible to me to compass
the desired object. Perhaps you will deem it a piece of
rashness rather than of courage so quickly to undertake
your affair. I should call it so too, did I not also catch
dimly in the depth of the Heavens the form of the finger
of God. This thou wilt not and canst not understand.
It is beyond thee. Is it not so? But, Roman, I trust the
day is to come when by my mouth, if not by another's, thou
shalt hear enough to understand that truth is to be found
no where but in Moses. Avoid Probus. I fear me he is
already in Palmyra. There is more cunning in him than
is good. With that deep face and serene air he deceives
many. All I say is, shun him. To be a Roman unbeliever
is better than to be a Christian heretic. But to
my journey.
The morning after I parted from thee saw me issuing
at an early hour from the Persian Gate, and with my single
Ethiopian slave, bearing toward the desert. I took
with me but a light bale of merchandise, that I might not
burden my good dromedary. Than mine, there is not a
fleeter in the whole East. One nearly as good, and at a
huge price, did I purchase for my slave. 'T was too suddenly
bought to be cheaply bought. But I was not cozened.
It proved a rare animal. I think there lives not
the man in Palmyra or Damascus who could blind Isaac.
I determined to travel at the greatest speed we and our
heats of day, and rode by night. The first day being
through the peopled regions of the queen's dominions,
and through a cultivated country, we travelled at our
case; and not unfrequently at such places as I saw promised
well, did we stop, and while our good beasts regaled
themselves upon the rich herbage or richer grain, trafficked.
In this surely I erred not. For, losing as I have
done, by this distant and unwonted route, the trade of
Ctesiphon, 't was just, was it not, that to the extent possible,
without great obstruction thrown in the way of your
affairs, I should repair the evil of that loss? Truth to
speak, it was only because my eye foresaw some such
profitings on the way, that I made myself contented with
but two gold talents of Jerusalem. Two days were passed
thus, and on the third we entered upon a barren region
— barren as where the prophet found no food, but such
as birds from Heaven brought him. But why speak of
this to thee? O, that thou wouldst but once, only once,
sit at the feet of that man of God, Simon Ben Gorah!
Solomon was not more wise. His words are arrows with
two heads, from a golden bow. His reasons weigh as the
mountains of Lebanon. They break and crush all on
whom they fall. Would, Roman, they might sometime
fall on thee! The third day we were on this barren region,
and the next fairly upon the desert. Now did we
reap the benefit of our good beasts. The heat was like
that of the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar, out of which the
three children, Shadrach, Mescheck, and Abednego
came, through the power of God, unscorched. And
moreover, they were soon put to an unwonted and unlooked
for burden, and in such manner as, to thy wonder, I
shall relate.
It was a day the air of which was like the air of that
upon the whole face of the visible earth. Where leaves
had been, there were none now, or they crumbled into
ashes as the hand touched them. The atmosphere, when
moved by the wind, brought not, as it is used to do,
a greater coolness, but a fiercer heat. It was full of
flickering waves that danced up and down with a quivering
motion, and dazzled and blinded the eye that looked
upon them. And often the sand was not like that which,
for the most part is met with on that desert stretching
from the Mediterranean to Palmyra, and of which thou
hast had some experience — heavy, and hard, and seamed
with cracks — but fine, and light, and raised into clouds
by every breath of wind, and driven into the skin like
points of needles. When the wind, as frequently it did,
blew with violence, we could only stop and bury our faces
in our garments, our poor beasts crying out with pain. It
was on such a day, having, because there was no place of
rest, been obliged to endure all the noonday heat, that,
when the sun was at the highest, and when we looked
eagerly every way for even a dry and leafless bush that
we might crouch down beneath its shade, we saw at a
distance before us the tall trunk of a cedar, bleached to
ivory, and twinkling like a pharos under the hot rays.
We slowly approached it, Hadad, my Ethiopian, knowing
it as one of the pillars of the desert.
`There it has stood and shone a thousand years,' said
he, `and but for such marks, who could cross these seas
of sand, where your foot-mark is lost, as soon as made?'
After a few moment's pause, he again exclaimed: `And
by the beard of holy Abraham! a living human being sits
at the root — or else mayhap my eyes deceive me, and I
see only the twisted roots of the tree.'
`'T is too far for my eyes to discern aught but the
the region of death only.'
A blast of the desert struck us at the moment, and well
nigh buried us in its rushing whirlwind of sand. We
stood still, closed our eyes, and buried our faces in the
folds of our garments.
`Horrible and out of nature!' I cried — `the sun blazing
without a cloud as big as a locust to dim his ray, and
yet these gusts, like the raging of a tempest. The winds
surely rise. Providence be our guide out of this valley of
fire and death!'
`There is no providence here,' said the slave, `nor any
where; else why these savage and dreary deserts, which
must be crossed, and yet we die in doing it.'
`Hold thy peace, blasphemer!' I could not but rejoin,
`and take heed lest thy impious tongue draw down a
whirlwind of God to the destruction of us both.'
`The curse of Arimanes' — began the irritated slave
— when suddenly he paused, and cried out in another
tone: `Look! look! Isaac, and see now for thyself: I
am no Jew, if there sit not a woman at the root of yonder
tree.'
I looked, and now that we had drawn nearer, and
the wind had subsided for an instant, I plainly beheld the
form of a woman, bent over, as if in the act of holding
and defending an infant. I believed it a delusion of Satan.
`It is awful,' said I; `but let us hasten; if it be a
reality, our coming must be as the descent of angels.'
I pressed on my weary animal, and in a few moments
we stood before what seemed indeed a human being, of
flesh and bone — and what was more wonderful still, a
woman. Yet she stirred not, nor gave other sign of life.
`Is the breath of life yet in you?' I cried out — not
released her from her misery — and at the same time
laid my hand upon her shoulder. At which she started,
and lifting up her head, the very ghastliness of death
stamped upon every feature, she shrieked: `I drown! I
drown! Hassan, save me!' and her head fell again upon
her knees.
`Poor fool,' said I, `thou art upon the sands of the desert,
and thou dreamest: awake! — awake! — and here is
water for thee — real water.'
At which she waked indeed, with a convulsive start,
and while with one hand she held fast her child — for a
child was indeed laid away among the folds of her garments
— with the other she madly grasped the small cup
I held out to her, and tearing aside the covering from the
face of the child, she forced open its mouth, and poured
in some of the water we gave her, watching its effect.
Soon as the little one gave signs of life, she drank the remainder
at a draught, crying out, `More! more!' Our
water, of which we had as yet good store, though hot as
the wind itself, quickly restored both mother and child.
`And now tell me, miserable woman, what direful
chance has brought and left thee here? — but hasten —
speak quickly as thou canst — and dost thou look for any
one to come to thy relief?'
`Robbers of the desert,' said she, `have either murdered
or carried into slavery my husband, and destroyed and
scattered the caravan of which we made a part. I am
alone in the desert; and I know of no relief but such as
you can give. Leave us not, if you are men, to perish in
these burning sands!'
`Fear not that I will leave you,' said I: `what I can
spare, shall freely be thine. But time is precious, for we
are yet but midway the desert, and the signs of the heavens
the dromedary of my slave, while I upon mine bear — as
stronger than thou — the child.'
`Isaac,' here muttered Hadad, in an under tone, `art
thou mad? Is thy reason wholly gone? It is scarcely to
be hoped that we alone may cross in safety what remains
of the desert, beset as we are by these sweeping gusts,
and wilt thou oppress our fainting beasts with this new
burden?'
`Thou accursed of God! wouldst thou leave these here
to perish? I believed not before that out of hell there could
be so black a soul. Bring down thy dromedary. One
word of hesitancy, and thy own carcass shall bleach upon
the sands.'
I knew well who I was dealing with — that I was safe
from immediate violence, though not from ultimate revenge.
Hadad then drew up his beast, which kneeling received
the woman, while I took in my arms the child. We then
set forward at an increased pace, to reach before night, if
possible, the `place of springs,' where a small green spot,
watered by fountains which never fail, blesses these inhospitable
plains.
Not a cloud was to be seen in all the compass of the
heavens, yet the winds raged. The blueness of the sky
was gone, and the whole inflamed dome above us was
rather of the color of molten brass, the sun being but its
brightest and hottest spot. At a distance, we saw clouds
of sand whirled aloft, and driven fiercely over the boundless
plain, any one of which, it seemed to us, if it should
cross our path, would bury us under its moving mass.
We pressed on, trembling and silent through apprehension.
The blood in my veins seemed hotter than the
sand, or the sun that beat upon my face. Roman, thou
for my faith, I should have utterly failed. What couldst
thou have done? — nay, or the Christian Probus? But I
will not taunt thee. I will rather hope. The wind became
more and more violent. The sand was driven
before it like chaff. Sometimes the tempest immediately
around us would abate, but it only served to fill us with
new apprehensions, by revealing to us the tossings of this
great deep, in the distance. At one of these moments,
as I was taking occasion to speak a word of comfort to
the half dead mother, and cherish the little one whom I
bore, a sound as of the roar of ocean caught my ear —
more awful than aught I had yet heard — and at the same
time a shriek and a shout from Hadad, `God of Israel,
save us! The sand! the sand!'
I looked in the direction of the sound, and there in the
south it looked — God, how terrible to behold! — as if
the whole plain were risen up, and were about to fall
upon us.
`'T is vain to fly!' I screamed to Hadad, who was
urging his animal to its utmost speed. `Let us perish
together. Besides, observe the heaviest and thickest of
the cloud is in advance of us.'
The mother of the child cried out, as Hadad insanely
hastened on, for her offspring, to whom I answered:
`Trust the young Ishmael to me — fear me not — cleave
to the dromedary.'
Hardly were the words spoken, when the whirlwind
struck us. We were dashed to the earth as we had been
weeds. My senses were for a time lost in the confusion
and horror of the scene. I only knew that I had been
torn from my dromedary — borne along and buried by the
sand — and that the young Ishmael was still in my arms.
In the first moment of consciousness, I found myself struggling
around and over me. In this, after a time, I succeeded,
and in restoring to animation the poor child, choked and
blinded, yet — wonderful indeed — not dead. I then
looked around for Hadad and the woman, but they were
no where to be seen. I shouted aloud, but there was no
answer. The sand had now fallen — the wind had died
away — and no sound met my ear, but the distant rumbling
of the retreating storm. Not far from me, my own
dromedary stood, partly buried in sand, and vainly endeavoring
to extricate himself. With my aid, this was
quickly effected. I was soon upon his back. But I knew
not which way to turn. My dependence was upon Hadad,
familiar with the route. The sun, however had
declined sensibly toward the west — I knew that my general
direction was toward the east and north, so that with
some certainty as to the true path, I sorrowfully recommenced
my journey. Have I not thy pity, Roman? Has
a worse case ever come to thy ear? I will not distress
thee by reciting my sufferings all the way to the `place of
springs,' which by the next morning, plodding on wearily
through the night, I safely reached.
There one of the first objects that greeted me, was
Hadad and the mother of my Ishmael. I approached
them unobserved, as they sat on the border of a spring, in
the midst of other travellers, some of whom I saw were
comforting the wailing Hagar — and without a word dropped
the young child into the lap of its mother. Who shall
describe the transports of her joy? 'T was worth, Piso,
the journey and all its hazards.
How refreshing it was to lie here on the cool soil, beneath
the shade of the grateful palm, enjoying every
moment of existence, and repairing the injuries the journey
had inflicted upon ourselves and our beasts! Two
what befel him after our separation. Owing to his
urging on his animal in that mad way, at the time I called
out to him, instead of stopping or retreating, he was farther
within the heart of the cloud than I, and was more
rudely handled.
`Soon as the blast fell upon us,' said he, `that instant
was my reason gone. I knew nothing for I cannot tell
how long. But when I came to myself, and found that
I was not in the place of the wicked — whereat I rejoiced
and was amazed — I discovered, on looking around, that
my good dromedary, whom I could ill spare, was dead
and buried, and your Hagar, whom I could have so well
spared, alive and weeping for her lost boy. I made her,
with difficulty, comprehend that time was precious, and
that strength would be impaired by weeping and wailing.
Knowing at once in what direction to travel — after
searching in vain for thee — we set out upon a journey,
which, on foot, beneath a burning sun, and without water,
there was small hope of accomplishing. I looked with
certainty to die in the desert. But Oromasdes was my
protector. See, Isaac, the advantage of a little of many
faiths. We had not travelled far among the hillocks, or
hills rather, of sand which we found piled up in our way,
and completely altering the face of the plain, before, to
our amazement and our joy, we discovered a camel, without
rider or burden, coming toward us. I secured him
without difficulty. At a little distance, we soon saw
another; and bye and bye we found that we were passing
over the graves of a caravan, the whole or chief part of
which had been overwhelmed by the storm. Here was a
body partly out of the sand, there the head or leg of a
dromedary or camel. Ruin and death seemed to have
finished their work. But it was not quite so. For presently
a remnant mounted upon the beasts that had been
saved, making in the same direction, and probably to the
same point, as ourselves. We joined them, and partaking
of their water, were recruited, and so reached this place
alive. It is now from here,' he added, `a safe and easy
road to Ecbatana.'
So we found it. But confess now, noble Piso, if in thy
judgment it would have been exorbitant if I had required
of thee three talents of Jerusalem instead of two? For
what wouldst thou cross that moulten sea, and be buried
under its fiery waves! It is none other than a miracle
that I am here alive in Ecbatana. And for thee I fear
that miracle would not have been wrought. Hadst thou
been in my place, the sands of the desert were now thy
dwelling-place. Yet have I again to tempt those horrors.
Being here, I must return. The dromedary of my slave
Hadad, was worth an hundred aurelians. A better or a
fleeter, never yet was in the stables of Zenobia. And dost
thou know, Roman, how curious the queen is in horses
and dromedaries? There cannot a rare one of either kind
enter the walls of Palmyra, but he is straightway bought
up for the service of Zenobia. The swiftest in the East
are hers. 'T was my purpose, returning, to have drawn
upon Hadad's beast the notice of the queen. Doubtless
I should have sold it to her, and two hundred aurelians
is the very least I should have asked or taken for her.
To no other than Zenobia would I have parted with her
for less than three hundred. But alas! her bones are on
the desert. But why, you ask, should I have so favored
Zenobia? It is no wonder you ask. And in answer, I
tell thee, perhaps, a secret. Zenobia is a Jewess! Receive
it or not, as thou wilt — she is a Jewess — and her
heart is tender toward our tribe. I do not say, mark me,
a proselyte of the Gate, but that she believes in some sort
Moses and the prophets, and reads our sacred books.
These things I know well from those who have been near
her. But who ever heard that she has been seen to read
the books of the Christians! Probus will not dare to assert
it. 'T is not more public that Longinus himself is inclined
to our faith — by my head, I doubt not that he is
more than inclined — than 't is that Zenobia is. If our
Messiah should first of all gird on the sword of Palmyra,
what Jew, whose sight is better than a mole's, would be
surprised? My father — may his sleep be sweet!—whose
beard came lower than his girdle, and whose wisdom was
famous throughout the East, built much upon what he
knew of the queen, and her great minister, and used to
say, `That another Barchochab would arise in Palmyra,
whom it would require more than another Hadrian to hinder
in his way to empire; and that if horses again swam
in blood, as once at Bither, 't would be in Roman blood.'
Who am I, to deny truth and likelihood to the words of
one in whom dwelt the wisdom of Solomon, and the meekness
of Moses—the faith of Abrabam, the valor of Gideon,
and the patience of Job? I rather maintain their truth.
And in the features of the present time, I read change
and revolution — war, and uproar, and ruin — the falling
of kingdoms that have outlasted centuries, and the uprising
of others that shall last for other centuries. I see
the Queen of the East at battle with the Emperor of
Rome, and through her victories deliverance wrought out
for Israel, and the throne of Judah once more erected
within the walls of Jerusalem. Now dost thou, Piso,
understand, I suppose, not one word of all this. How
shouldst thou? But I trust thou wilt. Surely now you
will say, `What is all this to the purpose?' Not much to
marvel greatly if thou wert to throw this letter down and
trample it in the dust — as Rome has done by Judea —
but that thou lookest to hear of thy brother. Well, now I
will tell thee of him.
When we drew near to the capital of the Great King,
wishing to enrage Hadad, I asked `What mud-walled village
is it that we see yonder over the plain?' Thou
shouldst have seen the scowl of his eye — answer he gave
none. I spit upon such a city — I cast out my shoe upon
it! I who have dwelt at Rome, Carthage, Antioch, and
Palmyra, may be allowed to despise a place like this.
There is but one thing that impresses the beholder, and
that is the Palace of Sapor, and the Temple of Mithras,
near it. These, truly, would be noted even in Palmyra.
Not that in the building any rule or order of art is observed,
but that the congregation of strange and fantastic
trickery — some whereof, it cannot be gainsaid, is of rare
beauty — is so vast that one is pleased with it as he is
with the remembrance of the wonderful combinations of
a dream.
Soon as we entered the gates of the city, I turned to
the woman whom we brought from the desert, and who
rode the camel with Hadad, and said to her: `First
of all, Hagar, we take thee to those who are of thy kinddred,
or to thy friends, and well may they bless the good
Providence of God that they see thee. 'T was a foul deed
of thy husband, after the manner of the patriarch, to leave
thee and thy little one to perish on the burning sands of
the desert.'
`Good Jew,' she replied, `my name is not Hagar, nor
did my husband leave me willingly. I tell thee we were
set upon by robbers, and Hassan, my poor husband, was
either killed, or carried away no one can tell whither.'
`No matter — names are of little moment. To me,'
`thou art Hagar, and thy little one here, is Ishmael
— and if thou wilt, Ishmael shall be mine. I will take
him and rear him as mine — he shall be rich — and
thou shalt be rich, and dwell where thou wilt.' The
child, Roman, had wound itself all around my heart. He
was of three years or more, and, feature for feature, answered
to the youngest of my own, long since lost, and
now in Abraham's bosom. But it was not to be as I
wished. All the mother rushed into the face of the
woman.
`Good Jew,' she cried, `the God of Heaven will
reward thee for thy mercy shown to us; but hadst thou
saved my life a thousand times, I could not pay thee with
my child. I am poor, and have nought to give thee but
my thanks.'
`I will see thee again,' said I to the widow of Hassan,
as we set her down in the street where her kinsfolk
dwelt, `if thou wilt allow me. Receive thy child.'
The child smiled as I kissed him, and gave him again
to his mother. It was the smile of Joseph. I could at
that moment almost myself have become a robber of the
desert, and taken what the others had left.
We here parted, and Hadad and myself bent our way
to the house of Levi, a merchant well known to Hadad,
and who, he assured me, would gladly receive us. His
shop, as we entered it, seemed well stored with the
richest goods, but the building of which it made a part
promised not very ample lodgings. But the hospitable
welcome of the aged Levi promised better.
`Welcome every true son of Israel,' said he, `as we
drew near where, in a remoter part of the large apartment,
he sat busy at his books of account. Make yourselves
find more private quarters.'
So, leaving Hadad and the camels to the care of those
whom our host summoned, I followed him as desired to
another part of the dwelling. It now seemed spacious
enough. After winding about among narrow and dark
passages, we at length came to large and well-furnished
rooms, apparently quite remote from the shop, and far
removed from the street. Here we seated ourselves, and
I unfolded to Levi the nature of my business. He listened,
wondered, smiled, shook his head, and made a
thousand contrary movements and signs. When I had
done, he comforted and instructed me after this manner.
`Something like a fool's errand. Yet the pay is good
— that cannot be doubted. It had been better, I think,
for thee to have followed thy trade in Palmyra or Ctesiphon.
Yet perhaps this may turn out well. The promised
sum is large. Who can tell? 'T is worth a risk.
Yet if, in taking the risk, one loses his head, it were a
mad enterprise. Verily, I can say nothing but that time
will disclose it, and the event prove it. A thing is not
seen all at once, and the eye cannot at once reach
every part of a ball. Wait with patience, and God shall
show it.'
I saw that nothing was to be got from this prophet.
Yet perhaps he knew facts. So I asked him of Hormisdas
and Sapor, and if he knew aught of the Roman Piso,
held a strict prisoner in Ecbatana.
`A prisoner, say you?' he replied, beginning at the
end of my question; `how can a Persian Satrap be
called a prisoner? He dwells in the palace of Hormisdas,
and when seen abroad, rides upon a horse whose
harness is jewelled like the prince's, and his dress, moreover,
is of the richest stuffs, and altogether Persian. 'T is
Persian.'
`Is he ever seen to ride alone?' I asked.
`Why the question? I know not. Who should know
who rides alone and who in company? When I have
seen him, it has always been in the train of others.'
`I thought as much. Doubtless he goes abroad well
guarded. His companions, Levi, I doubt are little better
than jailers?'
Levi opened his eyes, but it was to no purpose; they
can see no other thing clearly, save a Persian coin.
I found, upon further inquiry, that it was even as I
had supposed and had heard. Calpurnius lives in the
palace of Hormisdas, and is his chosen companion and
friend, but is allowed by Sapor no liberty of movement,
and wherever he goes, is attended by persons appointed
to guard him. Nor have the many years that he has
been here caused this vigilance in any degree to relax.
All outward honor is shown him, except by the king,
who, had he not, in the time of Valerian, passed his
word to the prince his son, and fully surrendered Piso
into his hands, would, it is believed, even now use him as
he did the unhappy emperor. But he is safe in the
keeping of the prince. And the guard about him, it is
my present suspicion, is as much to defend him against
any sudden freak of the king or his satellites, as it is to
prevent his escape. The least that could happen to any
Roman falling into Sapor's power, would be to be flayed
alive. My safety will lie in my being known only as a
Jew, not as a dweller in Rome.
And now, Roman, thou desirest to know in what
manner I mean to accomplish the deliverance of thy
brother. It is thus. Commend the cunning of it. My
Ethiopian slave is then — I must tell thee to thine amazement
my own tribe whom I have many times employed in
difficult affairs, and having often conferred upon him
the most essential favors, have bound him to my will.
Him I am to leave in Ecbatana, being first cleansed
of the deep dye with which by my art — and what
art is it I am not familiar with? — I have stained his skin
to the darkest hue of the African, and then in his place,
and stained to the same hue, am I to take thy brother,
and so with security, and in broad day, walk through the
gates of Ecbatana. Is it to be thought of that I should
fail? All will rest with Calpurnius. If, in the first
place, he shall be willing to return, and then, in the
next place, shall consent to submit to this momentary and
only apparent degradation, the issue is as certain to be
happy, as the means shall be tried. My head never set
with a sense of more security upon my shoulders, than
now, while planning and putting into execution this
Carthaginian plot.
It was first of all necessary that I should become acquainted
with the city, with the situation and structure of
the palace of Hormisdas, and become known in the
streets as one of those way-side merchants whom all
abuse, yet whom all are glad to trade with. So, with
my slave bending under the burden of those articles of
use or luxury which I thought would be most attractive,
we set forth into the midst of the busy streets, seeking a
market for our commodities. Several days were passed
in this manner, returning each night to lodge in the house
of the rich and foolish, but hospitable Levi.
While thus employed, I frequently saw Calpurnius, in
company with the prince or other nobles, either riding in
state through the streets of the city, or else setting out
upon excursions of pleasure beyond the walls. But my
and learn the particular part of it inhabited by the Roman,
and how and where it was his custom to pass his
time. This it was not difficult to do. The palace of the
prince I found to occupy a square of the city not far from
that of the king his father. It is of vast extent, but of a
desolate aspect, from the fewness of its inhabitants and
the jealousy with which the prince and all his movements
are watched by the wicked and now superannuated
Sapor. Every day I diligently paced the streets upon
which its stands. I at first went without Hadad, that I
might observe with the more leisure. I at length discovered
the apartments used by Calpurnius, and learned
that it was his custom, when not absent from the palace
upon some enterprise of pleasure, to refresh himself by
breathing the air, and pacing to and fro upon a gallery of
light Persian architecture, and which bordered immediately
upon one of the four streets which bounded the
palace. This gallery was not so high above the street
but what the voice could easily reach those who were
walking there, and that without greatly increasing its
natural tone. From pillar to pillar there ran along a low
lattice-work of fanciful device, upon which it was the
usage of Calpurnius, and those who were with him, often
to lean, and idly watch the movements of the passengers
below. Here, I found, must be my place of audience.
Here I must draw his attention, and make myself known
to him. For an opportunity to do this, I saw at once I
might be obliged to wait long, for scarce ever was Calpurnius
there, but Hormisdas, or some one of the nobles,
was with him; or if he was alone, yet the street was so
thronged that it must be difficult to obtain a hearing.
Having learned these things, I then came forth, with
Hadad bearing my merchandise, I myself going before
repass the gallery of Calpurnius, to no purpose — he either
not being there, or attended closely by others, or wrapped
in thought so that my cries could not arouse him. It
was clear to me that I must make some bold attempt.
He was one day standing at the lattice-work already
named, alone, and looking at the passers by. Seeing him
there, as I entered the street, I made directly toward the
spot, crying in the loudest tone my goods; and notwithstanding
the numbers who were on their way along the
street, I addressed myself boldly to him, purposely mistaking
him for Hormisdas. `Prince,' said I, `buy a little,
if it please you, of a poor Jew, who has lately traversed
the desert to serve you. I have in these panniers wonders
from all parts of the world. There is not a city famous
for its art in any rare and curious work, that is not
represented here. Kings, queens, and princes, have not
disdained to purchase of me. The great Sapor at Ctesphon
has of me procured some of his largest diamonds.
I have sold to Claudius, and Zenobia, and half the nobility
of Palmyra. Dost thou see, prince, the glory of this
assortment of diamonds? Look! How would they become
thy finger, thy hunting-cap or thy sandals?'
Thy brother listened to me with unmoved countenance,
and folded arms, receiving passively whatever I was pleased
to say. When I paused, he said, in a tone of sadness,
though of affected pleasantry:
`Jew, I am the worst subject for thee in all Ecbatana.
I am a man without wants. I do nothing but live, and I
have nothing to do to live.'
`Now,' I replied, `is it time for me to die, having
seen the chief wonder of the world — a man without
wants.'
`There is a greater yet,' said he smiling; `thou must
live on.'
`And what is that?'
`A woman.'
`Thou hast me. But I can easily compound with life.
I have many wants, yet I love it. I was but a day or two
since buried alive under the burning sands of the desert,
and lost there a dromedary worth — if a farthing — four
hundred aurelians, for which thou mayest have him. Yet
I love to live, and take the chances of the world as they
turn up. Here now have I all the way consoled myself
with the thought of what I might sell to the great Prince
Hormisdas, and thou seest my reward. Still, I cry my
goods with the same zeal. But surely thou wantest
something? I have jewels from Rome — of the latest
fashion.'
`I want nothing from Rome.'
Seeing no one was near, and lowering my voice, I said,
`thou wantest nothing from Rome? What wouldst thou
give, Roman, for news from Rome?'
`News from Rome? Not an obolus. How knowest
thou me to be a Roman? But now, I was the Prince
Hormisdas?'
`I have seen thee many times, and know thee well, as
the Roman Piso. I have news for thee.'
`The prince approaches!' said Piso, in a hurried manner.
`Begone, but come again at the hour of dusk, and
I shall be alone, and will have thee admitted within the
gates of the palace.'
The fates ordering it so, I was obliged to depart, and
trust again to the future for such chances of renewing my
conversation with him as it might have to offer. Here
let me tell thee, Lucius Piso, that not having seen thy
brother, thou hast never seen a man. He is one with
every mark of the noblest manhood. His air is that of a
The beauty of his countenance is beyond that
of any other I have ever seen, yet is it a manly beauty.
A line of dark short hair covers his upper lip. His eyes
are large, dark, and soft in their general expression. He
seems of a melancholy and thoughtful temper, and sometimes
in his words there is an inexpressible bitterness.
Yet it has appeared to me, that his nature is gentle, and
that the other character is one accidental or assumed. If
I should compare him with any one for beauty, it would
be, Roman, not with thee — though I see him and thee
to be of the same stock — but with the Princess Julia.
Were her beauty only made masculine, she would then be
Calpurnius; or were his made feminine, he would then
be Julia. But this fancy might not strike others. His featurs
and air are not so much Roman as oriental — thine
are purely Roman. It may be that costume alone imparts
this Eastern aspect to the countenance and the form —
for his dress is wholly that of a Persian.
As I passed into the dwelling of my host, entering it as
at first by the way of the shop, its owner was holding a
conversation of business with some of his customers.
How does money seem native to the palm of some men!
They have but to open it, and straight it is lined with gold.
If they blunder, it is into more wealth. With wit scarce
sufficient to make it clear to another that they are properly
men, do they manage to make themselves the very chief
of all, by reason of the riches they heap up — which ever
have claimed and received, and ever will, the homage of
the world. Levi is of this sort. The meanness of his
understanding words cannot express — or no words but
his own. He was talking after this manner, as I entered,
to one who seemed to hold him in utmost reverence:
`The thing is so — the thing is so. If 't were otherwise
price may change. Who can say? The world is full of
change. But it cannot be less, and leave a gain to the seller
— unless indeed, circumstances altering, the pro t should
still be the same. But who can understand the future?
An hour is more than I can comprehend. He that deals
well with the present, is it not he, Holy Abraham! who
best secures the passing time? It cannot be denied!'
As the oracle ended, the Persian bowed low, saying:
`The wisdom of it is clearer than the light. I shall so
report to the prince.' Seeing me, he, in his friendly way,
inquired after my success, shaking his head at what he is
pleased to regard my mad enterprise. `Better not meddle
nor make in such matters. With thy pack upon thy
back, and exercising diligence, thou wouldst become rich
here in the streets of Ecbatana. And for what else
shouldst thou care? 'T is only money that remains the
same in the midst of change. All agree in the value they
place upon this, while they agree in nothing else. Who
can remember a difference here? Leave thy project,
Isaac, which thou must have undertaken half for love,
and I will make thee a great man in Ecbatana.' Little
does he know of Isaac, and thou I believe as little.
No sooner had the god of these idolaters gone down to
his rest, and the friendly twilight come, than I set forth
for the palace of Hormisdas. Upon coming beneath the
gallery, I waited not long before thy brother appeared,
and pointed out the way in which, through a low and private
entrance at a remote spot, I might reach an apartment
in which I should find him. Following his directions,
I was received, accompanied by Hadad, at the
specified place, by a slave of the palace who conducted
me to Piso's presence. It was in one of his more private
apartments, but still sumptuously set out with every article
in company with thy brother, and where I ordered Hadad
to display for his entertainment the most curious and
costly of the contents of his pack.
`I marvel chiefly, Roman,' I began by saying, `at the
ease with which I obtain an entrance into the palace, and
into thine own apartment. I had thought this to have
been attended with both difficulty and danger.'
`It is not without danger,' he replied; `thou mayst
lose thy head for this adventure. But this risk I suppose
thee to have weighed. Every one in Ecbatana knows
Sapor and me — with what jealousy I am guarded — and
that the king will not flinch to keep his word, and take off
any head that meddles. But fear not. The king is old
and weak, and though cruel as ever, forgets me, as every
thing else. Besides, it is found that I am so good a Persian,
that all strictness in the watch has long since ceased.
Half Ecbatana believe me more a Persian than a Roman
— and in truth they are right.'
`Thou hast not, Roman, forgotten thy country! Surely
thou hast not, though suffering captivity, ceased to
love and long for thy native land. The Jew never forgets
his. He lives indeed in every corner and hole of the
earth, but in the hope — 't is this that keeps his life —
either himself or through his children to dwell once more
within the walls of Jerusalem, or among the hills and
valleys of Judea.'
`Where we are not loved or remembered, we cannot
love,' he bitterly replied. `I loved Rome once, more
than I loved parent or kindred. The greatness and glory
of Rome were to me infinitely more than my own. For
her — in my beardless youth — I was ready to lay down
my life at any moment. Nay, when the trial came, and
the good Valerian set forth to redeem the East from the
but abandoned a home, than which there was not a
prouder or happier within the walls of Rome, to take my
chance with the emperor and my noble father. The
issue thou knowest. How has Rome remembered me,
and the brave legions that with me fell into the hands of
these fierce barbarians? Even as Gallienus the son
seemed to rejoice in the captivity of his parent, so has
Rome the mother seemed to rejoice in the captivity of her
children. Not an arm has she lifted, not a finger has
she moved, to lighten the chains of our bondage, or rescue
us from this thraldom. Rome is no longer my country.'
`Consider, Roman,' I replied, `in extenuation of thy
country's fault, who it was that succeeded the good
Valerian — then the brief reign of virtuous Claudius,
who died ere a single purpose had time to ripen — and
the hard task that has tied the hands of Aurelian, on the
borders of Gaul and Germany. Have patience.'
`Dost thou not blush, old man,' he said, `with that
long gray beard of thine, and thy back bent with years,
to stand there the apologist of crime? If ingratitude and
heartlessness are to be defended, and numbered among
the virtues, the reign of Arimanes has indeed begun.
Such is not the lesson, Jew, thy sacred books have taught
thee. But a truce with this! Thy last words this morning
were, that thou hadst news for me. For Roman news
I care not, nor will hear. If thou canst tell me aught of
family and friends, say on — although — O gods, that it
should be so! — even they seem to share the guilt of all.
How many messengers have I bribed with gold, more
than thou hast ever seen, Jew, to bear my letters to
Rome, and never a word has been returned of good or
or of Lucius Piso, my brother? Live they?'
`Do I not know them well?' I replied: `who that
dwells in Rome knows not the noble Portia? She lives
yet; and long may she live, the friend of all! To Jew,
and even to Nazarene, she is good, even as to her own.
Never did age, or want, or helplessness, ask of her in
vain. Years have not stopped the fountains of her tears,
nor chilled a single affection of her heart. And dost
thou think that while she remembers the outcast Jew,
and the despised Nazarene, she forgets her own offspring?
Where is thy heart, Roman, to suppose it? Have I not
heard her, many a time, when I have been to solicit alms
for some poor unfortunate of my tribe, run back upon the
line of years, and speak of the wars of Valerian, of the
day when she parted from her great husband, and her
two sons, and of that dark day, too, when the news came
that they were all fast in the clutch of that foul barbarian,
Sapor — and stood a silent and astonished witness of a
love, such as I never saw in any other, and which seemed
so great as to be a necessary seed of death to her frail
and shattered frame? Of thee, especially, have I heard
her descant as mothers will, and tell one after another of
all thy beauties, nay and of the virtues, which bound her
to thee so, and of her trust, so long cherished, that thou,
more than either of her other sons, wouldst live to sustain,
and even bear up higher, the name of Piso.'
`My noble mother! Was it so indeed?'
`How should it be otherwise? Is it any thing, that thou
hast not heard from her? Was she to tempt herself the horrors
of a Persian journey? Was she, in her age, to seek
thee over the sands of Asia? or thy brother? Especially
when it was held in Rome not more certain that Valerian
was dead, than that thy father and thou wert also. The
ever came from Ctesiphon. Was not one event as likely
as the other? Did not both rest upon the same authority?
In the same commemorative acts of the Senate were thy
name, thy father's, thy brother's, and the emperor's, with
others who were also believed to have perished. Was
Portia, alone, of all Rome, to give the lie to universal
fame? As for thy messengers, art thou so foolish as to
believe that one ever crossed the desert, or escaped the
meshes set for him by the jealous and malignant Sapor?'
`It is enough, Jew — say no more.'
`But I have much more to say, or else be false to those
who sent me.'
`Sent thee? who sent thee? Speak! do Portia, then,
and Lucius, know that I live? And art thou here, a messenger
from them?'
`It is even so.'
Thy brother was greatly moved. At first he made as
though he would have embraced me, but turned and
paced with quick and agitated steps the room.
I then related to him how we had in Rome first heard
through that soldier a rumor of his being yet alive — but
at the same time, that he had renounced his country, and
become a Persian Satrap. I told him of thy faith in him,
and of Portia's, that he would never prove a recreant to
his country — of thy instant journey to Palmyra, with
purpose to cross the desert thyself, and risk all the dangers
of Ecbatana to accomplish his deliverance, and of
the counsel of Gracchus, which caused thee to make me
a substitute.
`Lucius, then,' he at length said, approaching me, `is
in Palmyra? Is it so?'
`It is,' I said. `At least I left him there. He was to
remain there, and learn the issue of my attempt. If I
then was it his purpose himself to try — unless in the
mean time he should learn through me, or otherwise, that
thou wert too wedded to Persia, and to Persian customs,
to consent to change them for Rome and Roman ways.'
`Jew, thou seest that now I hesitate. Thou hast roused
all the son, the brother, and something of the Roman
within me. I am drawn many ways. To Rome I will
never return. Toward her, a resentment burns deep
within, which I know will close only with life itself. But
toward Palmyra, my heart yearns. 'T was Zenobia alone,
of all the world, that ever moved for the rescue of Valerian:
't was she alone, of all the world, who pitied our
sorrows, and though she could not heal, revenged them.
Her image has been a dear source of consolation in this
long captivity. I have eagerly sought for all that could
be obtained concerning her character, her acts, her policy,
and the state of her affairs. And often have I thought
to slip my bonds, and throw myself at her feet, to serve
with her, if need should be, either against Rome or Persia.
But habit has prevailed, and the generous friendship
of Hormisdas, to keep me here. And why should I
change this not unpleasing certainty for the doubtful
future that must await me in Palmyra? Here I am in
the very lap of luxury. I am, as I have said to thee, a
man without wants. All countries, and climates, and
seas, and arts, minister to my pleasure. The learning of
ancient and of modern times, you see there piled upon
shelves, to entertain my leisure, or task my hours of study.
I am without care — without the necessity of toil — with
a palace, its slaves, and I may add its prince, at my command.
And beyond all this present reality, there is the
prospect of every thing else that Persia contains, upon the
death of Sapor, which, in the course of nature, cannot be
thou now tellest me, renews my desire of change. Lucius
is in Palmyra — perhaps he would dwell there. 'T is the
home, I learn, of many noble Romans. Who can say
that Portia might not come and complete our happiness?'
And saying these things, he began to muse. He again
paced, with folded arms, the long apartment. I saw that
he was still distracted by doubts. I knew of but one
thing more to say, by which to work upon his passionate
nature. I resolved to do it, though I know not what thou
wilt to say to it, nor what the event may be. There was,
thou knowest, ere I left Palmyra, rumor of war between
Palmyra and Rome. Barely to name this, it seemed to
me, would be on the instant to fix his wavering mind. I
could not withstand the temptation. But, Piso once in
Palmyra, and sure I am I shall be forgiven. I began
again thus.
`Gracchus, too, Roman, dost thou not remember the
family of Gracchus? He, also, is in Palmyra.'
`Ay, I remember him well. A man of true nobility —
now one of the queen's chief advisers, and head of the
Senate. He had a daughter too, who, her mother dying
young, was committed to the care of Portia, and was as
a sister. Does she live? — and dwells she in Palmyra?'
`She lives, and beneath her father's roof. Fame speaks
loudly of her beauty and her wit, and more loudly still, of
her young wisdom, and influence with the queen. Her
spirit is the counterpart of Zenobia's. She is, notwithstanding
her long Roman nurture, a Palmyrene of the
truest stamp. And ever since there have been these
rumors of a war with Rome'—
`What sayst thou? What is that? War with Rome?
Did I hear aright?'
`Verily thou didst. 'T was the current report when I
Alexandria. Nothing was talked of else, ever since,
I say.'
`Why hast thou not said this before? How shall I
believe thee?'
`I said it not before, simply because I thought not of
it. How was I to know what thou most desired to hear?
I can give thee no other ground of belief than common
rumor. If my own opinion will weigh aught, I may add,
that for myself I have not a doubt that the report springs
from truth. When at Rome, it was commonly spoken of,
and by those, too, whom I knew to be near the emperor,
that Aurelian felt himself aggrieved and insulted, that a
woman should hold under her dominion territories that
once belonged to Rome, and who had wrested them from
Rome by defeat of Roman generals — and had sworn to
restore the empire in the East as well as West, to its ancient
bounds. At Palmyra, too, I found those who were
of deep intelligence in the politics of the times, who felt
sure of nothing more than that, what with the pride of
Zenobia and the ambition of Aurelian, war was inevitable.
I tell thee these things as they fell upon my ear.
Before this, as I think, it is most likely that war may have
broken out between the two nations.'
`Thou hast now spoken, Jew,' said Calpurnius. `Hadst
thou said these things at first, thou hadst spared me
much tormenting doubt. My mind is now bent and determined
upon flight. This it will not be difficult, I
think, to accomplish. But what is thy plan? — for I suppose,
coming upon this errand, thou hast one well digested.
But remember, now, as I have already warned thee,
that thy head will answer for any failure: detection will
be death.'
`Death is little to a Jew, who in dying dies for his
live or die, 't is for Jerusalem. Thy brother rewards me
largely for this journey, and these dangers I encounter;
and if I perish, the double of the whole sum agreed upon
is to be paid according to certain directions left with him.
I would rather live; but I shall not shrink from death.
But, Piso, detection shall not ensue. I have not lived to
this age, to writhe upon a Persian spear, or grin from
over a Persian gateway. What I have devised is this.
Thou seest my slave Hadad?'
`I see him — an Ethiopian.'
`So he seems to thee. But his skin is white as thine.
By an art, known only to me, it has been changed to this
ebon hue.'
`What follows?'
`This follows. Thou art to take his place, thy skin
being first made to resemble his, while he is cleansed, and
remains in Ecbatana. We, then, thou bearing my packages
of merchandise, take our way, quietly and in broad
day-light, through the gates of Ecbatana. How sayst
thou?'
`The invention is perfect. I cannot fear the result.
Soon, then, as I shall have made some few preparations,
for which tomorrow will suffice, I shall be ready for the
desert.'
`I heard these words with joy. I now called to Hadad
to open his cases of jewels, from which I took a seal, having
upon it the head of Zenobia, and offered it to Calpurnius.
He seized it with eagerness, having never before
seen even so much as a drawing of the Great Queen. I
then drew forth thine own ring and gave him, with that
locket containing the hair of Portia, and thy letter. He
received them with emotion; and as I engaged myself in
upon the sheet as he read.
I then returned to the house of Levi.
Thus have I accomplished, successfully so far, my
errand. I write these things to thee, because a caravan
leaves Ecbatana in the morning, and may reach Palmyra
before ourselves. Though it is quite possible that we
may overtake and join it. But we may also be delayed
for many days. So that it is right, in that case, thou
shouldst hear.
In these words, my Curtius, you have, for the most
part, the letter of Isaac. I have omitted many things
which at another time you shall see. They are such as
relate chiefly to himself and his faith — abounding in
cautions against that heretic, Probus, who haunts his imagination
as if he were the very genius of evil.
How can I believe it, that within a few hours I may
embrace a brother, separated so long, and so long numbered
with the dead? Yet how mixed the pleasure! He
returns a brother, but not a Roman. Nay, 't is the expectation
of war with Rome, that has gained him. I am
perplexed and sad, at the same time that I leap for joy.
Fausta cannot conceal her satisfaction — yet she pities
me. Gracchus tells us to moderate our feelings and expectations,
as the full cup is of often spilled. No more now
— except this — that you fail not at once to send this
letter to Portia. Farewell!
| LETTER VIII. Letters of Lucius M. Piso, from Palmyra, to his friend Marcus Curtius at Rome | |