University of Virginia Library

10. LETTERS
FROM PALMYRA. LETTER X.

As I returned from the worship of the Christians to
the house of Gracchus, my thoughts wandered from the
subjects which had just occupied my mind, to the condition
of the country, and the prospect now growing more
and more portentous of an immediate rupture with
Rome. On my way I passed through streets of more
than Roman magnificence, exhibiting all the signs of
wealth, taste, refinement, and luxury. The happy, lighthearted
populace were moving through them, enjoying at
their leisure the calm beauty of the evening, or hastening
to or from some place of festivity. The earnest tone of
conversation, the loud laugh, the witty retort, the merry
jest, fell upon my ear from one and another as I passed
along. From the windows of the palaces of the merchants
and nobles, the rays of innumerable lights
streamed across my path, giving to the streets almost the
brilliancy of day; and the sound of music, either of
martial instruments, or of the harp accompanied by the

voice, at every turn arrested my attention, and made me
pause to listen.

A deep melancholy overcame me. It seemed to me
that the days of this people were numbered, and that the
Gods intending their ruin had first made them mad.
Their gayety appeared to me no other than madness.
They were like the gladiators of our circuses, who,
doomed to death, pass the last days of life in a delirium
of forced and frantic joy. Many of the inhabitants I
could not but suppose utterly insensible to the dangers
which impend — or ignorant of them; but more I believe
are cheerful, and even gay, through a mad contempt
of them. They look back upon their long and uninterrupted
prosperity — they call to mind their late glorious
achievements under Odenatus and their queen — they
think of the wide extent of their empire — they remember
that Longinus is their minister, and Zenobia still
their queen — and give their fears to the winds. A
contest with Rome, they approach as they would the
games of the amphitheatre.

The situation of their city, defended as it is by the
wide stretching deserts, is indeed enough of itself to inspire
the people with a belief that it is impregnable. It
requires an effort, I am aware, to admit the likelihood of
an army from the far west first overcoming the dangers
of the desert, and then levelling the walls of the city,
which seem more like ramparts of Nature's making, so
massy are they, than any work of man. And the Palmyrenes
have certainly also some excuse in the wretched
management of our generals, ever since the expedition of
Valerian, and in the brilliancy of their own achievements
for thinking well of themselves, and anticipating,
without much apprehension for the issue, a war with us.
But these and the like apologies, however they may

serve for the common people, surely are of no force in
their application to the intelligent, and such as fill the
high places of the kingdom. They know that although,
upon some mere question of honor or of boundary, it
might be very proper and politic to fight a single battle
rather than tamely submit to an encroachment, it is
quite another thing when the only aim of the war is to
see which is the stronger of the two — which is to be
master. This last, what is it but madness — the madness
of pride and ambition in the queen — in the people
the madness of a love and a devotion to her, unparalleled
since the world began. A blindness as of death has
seized them all.

Thinking of these things, and full of saddest forebodings
as to the fate of this most interesting and polished
people, I reached the gate of the palace of Gracchus.
The inmates, Gracchus and Fausta, I learned from
Milo were at the palace of the queen, whither I was instructed
by them to resort at the request of Zenobia
herself. The chariot of my host soon bore me there.
It was with pleasure that I greeted this unexpected good
fortune. I had not even seen the queen since the day
passed at her villa, and I was not a little desirous, before
the ambassadors should receive their final answer, to
have one more opportunity of conversing with her.

The moment I entered the apartment where the queen
was with her guests, I perceived that all state was laid
aside, and that we were to enjoy each other with the
same social ease as when in the country, or as on that
first evening in the gardens of the palace. There was
on this occasion no prostration, and no slave crouched at
her feet; and all the various Persian ceremonial in which
this proud woman so delights, was dispensed with. The
room in which we met was vast, and opening on two of

its sides upon those lofty Corinthian porticos, which add
so greatly to the magnificence of this palace. Light
was so dispersed as to shed a soft and moon-like radiance,
which, without dazzling, perfectly revealed every person
and object, even to the minutest beauties of the paintings
upon the walls, or the statuary that offered to the eye the
master-pieces of ancient and modern sculpture. The
company was scattered; some being seated together in
conversation, others observing the works of art, others
pacing the marble floors of the porticos, their forms crossing
and recrossing the ample arched door-ways which
opened upon them.

`We feared,' said the queen, advancing toward me as
I entered, `that we were not to be so happy as to see
you. My other friends have already passed a precious
hour with me. But every sacrifice to the affections, be it
ever so slight, is a virtue, and therefore you are still an
object of praise, rather than of censure.'

I said in reply that an affair of consequence had detained
me, or I should have been earlier at the house of
Gracchus, so as to have accompanied Fausta.

Fausta, who had been sitting with the queen, now
came forward, Julia leaning on her arm, and said, `And
what do you imagine to be the affair of consequence that
has deprived us of Piso's company?'

`I cannot tell, indeed,' replied Zenobia.

`Julia at least,' said Fausta, `will applaud him, when
she hears that he has just come from an assembly of
Christians. May I ask, Lucius, what new truth you
have learned with which to enlighten us? But your
countenance tells me I must not jest. There — let me
smooth that brow and make my peace. But in seriousness,
I hope your Mediterranean friend rewarded you for
the hour you have given him, and deprived us of?'

`I wish,' I could not but reply, `that but one out of
every thousand hours of my life had been as well rewarded,
and it would not have been so worthless. The
Princess may believe me when I say that not even the
Bishop of Antioch could have done better justice to the
Christian argument. I have heard this evening a Christian
of the name of Probus, whose history I related,—and
which you may remember — at the tables, within a few
days after my arrival in Palmyra. He is in opinion a
follower of Paul, so I am informed, though not — you
Julia will be glad to learn it — in his manner of life.
What the differences are which separate the Christians
from one another in their belief, I know not. I only
know that truth cannot take a more winning shape than
that in which it came from the lips of Probus, and it was
largely supported by the words of the founder of the religion.
I think you may justly congratulate your city and
your subjects,' I continued, addressing Zenobia, `upon
the labors and teaching of a man like Probus. The
sentiments which he utters are such as must tend to the
strength of any government which relies for its support,
in any sense, upon the social and personal virtues of the
people. In implanting the virtues of justice, temperance,
and piety, and in binding each heart to every other, by
the bonds of a love which this religion makes itself almost
to consist in, it does all that either philosophy or religion
can do for the harmony and order of society, the safety
of governments, and the peace of the world.'

`You speak with the earnestness of a deep persuasion,
Roman,' replied the Queen, `and I shall not forget the
name and office of the person whom you have now named
to me. I hear with pleasure of the arrival of any teacher
of truth in my kingdom. I have derived so much myself
from the influences of letters and philosophy, that it is no

far-off conclusion for me to arrive at, that my people must
be proportionally benefited by an easy access to the
same life-giving fountains. Whatever helps to quicken
thought, and create or confirm habits of reflection, is so
much direct service to the cause of humanity. I truly
believe that there is no obstacle but ignorance, to prevent
the world from attaining a felicity and a virtue, such as
we now hardly dream of — ignorance respecting the first
principles of philosophy and religion. Knowledge is not
less essential to the increase and elevation of virtue, than
it is to the further advances of truth, and the detection of
error. Prove the truth, and mankind will always prefer
it to falsehood. So too, demonstrate wherein goodness
consists, and the road that leads to it, and mankind will
prefer it to vice. Vice is a mistake, as well as a fault;
I do not say as often. I fear that the Christian teachers
are occupying themselves and their disciples too much
about mere speculative and fanciful distinctions, while
they give too little heed to that which alone is of any
consequence, virtue. In this, Longinus,' turning towards
the philosopher, who had now joined us, `I think they
affect to imitate the commentators and living expositors
of the great Plato. I have heard from Paul of Samosata
accounts of differences among Christians, where the
points were quite too subtle for my understanding to
appreciate. They reminded me of the refinements of
some of the young adventurers from Athens, who occasionally
have resorted here for the purpose of elucidating
the doctrines of your great master — pseudo-philosophers
and tyros, I perceive you are waiting to term them.
Is it so, that you denominate Polemo, the Athenian, who,
as I learn is now here with the benevolent design of
enlightening my people?'

`He is a man,' replied Longinus, `hardly worthy to be

named in this connection and this presence at all. I
have neither met him nor heard him, nor do I desire to
do so. It is through the mischievous intermeddling of
such as he that the honorable name and office of philosopher
are brought into contempt. It requires more intellect
than ever enlightens the soul of Polemo, to comprehend
the lofty truth of Plato. I trust that when it
has been my pleasure to unfold the sense of that great
teacher, it has not been found to be either unprofitable,
nor unintelligible?'

Zenobia smiled and said, `I must confess that at times,
as I have ever frankly stated, my mind has been a little
tasked. There has been but an approach to a perfect
idea. But I do not say that a perfect conception has not
been presented. So that when this has happened, Longinus
being the teacher, and Zenobia and Julia the pupils,
I cannot doubt that when the task is entrusted to less
cultivated minds — the task both of teaching and learning
— it must frequently end in what it might be rash to
term light or knowledge.'

`I grieve, O Queen,' replied Longinus, smiling in his
turn, `that both you and the Princess should have possessed
so little affinity for the soul-purifying and elevating
doctrines of the immortal Plato — that you, Queen, should
have even preferred the dark annals of Egyptian and Assyrian
history and politics, and the Greek learning; and
you, Princess, should have fixed your affections upon this,
not new-found philosophy, but new-invented religion, of
the Christians. I still anticipate the happiness to lead
you both into the groves of the academy, and detain you
there, where and where only are seats that well become
you.'

`But is it not,' I ventured here to suggest, `some objection
to the philosophy of Plato as the guide of life, that

it requires minds of the very highest order to receive it?
Philosophy, methinks, should be something of such potency,
yet at the same time, of such simplicity, that it should not
so much require a lofty and elevated intellect to admit it,
as tend, being received readily and easily by minds of a
humbler order, to raise them up to itself. Now this, so
far as I understand it, is the character of the Christian philosophy
— for philosophy I must think it deservedly called.
It is admitted into the mind with ease. But once being
there, its operation is continually to exalt and refine it —
leading it upwards forever to some higher point than it
has hitherto arrived at. I do not deny an elevating power
to your philosophy when once an inmate of the soul — I
only assert the difficulty of receiving it on the part of the
common mind.'

`And the common mind has nothing to do,' replied the
Greek, `with Plato or his wisdom. They are for minds
of a higher order. Why should the man who makes my
sandals and my cloak be at the same time a philosopher?
Would he be the happier? In my opinion, it would but
increase his discontent. Every stitch that he set would
be accompanied by the reflection. “What a poor employment
is this for a soul like mine, imbued with the best
wisdom of Greece,” and if this did not make him miserable
at his task, it would make him contemptible when
he should forsake it to do the work of some Polemo —
who, it may safely be presumed, has made some such exchange
of occupation. No. Philosophy is not for the many,
but the few. Parts there are of it which may descend
and become a common inheritance. Other parts there
are, and it is of these I speak, which may not.'

`Therein,' I rejoined, `I discern its inferiority to christianity,
which appeals to all and is suited to all, to lowest
as well as highest, to highest as well as lowest.'

`But I remember to have been told,' said the Greek, in
reply, `that Christian teachers too have their mysteries —
their doctrines for the common people, and their refinements
for the initiated.'

`I have heard not of it;' I answered, `if it be so I
should lament it. It would detract from its value greatly
in my judgment.'

`Where your information fails, Piso, mine perhaps may
serve,' said Julia, as I paused at fault. `It is indeed
true, as has been hinted by Longinus, that some of the
Christian doctors, through their weak and mistaken ambition
to assimilate their faith the nearest possible to the
Greek philosophy, have magnified the points in which the
least resemblance could be traced between them; and
through the force of a lively imagination, have discovered
resemblances which exist only in their fancies. These
they make their boast of, as showing that if Platonism be
to be esteemed for its most striking peculiarities, the very
same, or ones nearly corresponding, exist also in christianity.
Thus they hope to recommend their faith to the
lovers of philosophy. Many have by these means been
drawn over to it, and have not afterward altered any of
their modes of life, and scarce any of their opinions —
still wearing the philosopher's robe and teaching their
former doctrines, slightly modified by a tincture of christianity.
However the motive for such accommodation
may be justified, it has already resulted, and must do so
more and more to the corruption and injury of christianity.
This religion, or philosophy, whichever it should be called,
ought, however,' continued the Princess, addressing particularly
the Greek, `certainly to be judged on its own
merits, and not by the conduct or opinions of injudicious,
weak, or dishonest advocates. You are not willing that
Plato should be judged by the criticisms of a Polemo?

But insist that the student should go to the pages of the
philosopher himself, or else to some living expositor
worthy of him. So the Christian may say of christianity.
I have been a reader of the Christian records, and I can
say, that such secret and mysterious doctrines as you
allude to, are not to be found there. Moreover, I can
refer you, for the same opinion, to Paul of Antioch — I
wish he were here — who, however he may depart from
the simplicity of the Christian life, maintains the simplicity
of its doctrine.'

`You have well shown, my fair pupil,' replied the philosopher,
`that the imputation upon christianity, of a
secret and interior doctrine for the initiated alone is unjust,
but therein have you deprived it of the very feature
that would commend it to the studious and inquisitive.
It may present itself as a useful moral guide to the common
mind, but scarcely can it hope to obtain that enthusiastic
homage of souls imbued with the love of letters,
and of a refined speculation, which binds in such true-hearted
devotion every follower of Plato to the doctrine of
his divine master.'

At this moment Zabdas and Otho entered the apartment,
and drawing near to our group to salute the queen,
our conversation was broken off. I took occasion, while
this ceremony was going through, to turn aside and survey
the various beauty and magnificence of the room, with
its rare works of art. In this I was joined by Longinus,
who, with a taste and a power which I have seen in no
other, descanted upon the more remarkable of the pictures
and statues, not in the manner of a lecturer, but with a
fine perception and observance of that nice line which
separates the learned philosopher from the polite man of
the world. He was both at once. He never veiled his
learning or his genius, and yet never, by the display of

either, jarred the sensibilities of the most refined and cultivated
taste.

When we had in this way passed through the apartment,
and were standing looking toward where Zenobia
sat engaged in earnest conversation with Gracchus and
Zabdas, Longinus said,

`Do you observe the restlessness of the queen, and that
flush upon her cheek? She is thinking of to-morrow and
of the departure of the ambassadors. And so, too, is it
with every other here. We speak of other things, but
the mind dwells but upon one. I trust the queen will not
lose this fair occasion to gather once more the opinions of
those who most love and honor her. Piso, you have seen
something of the attachment of this people to their queen.
But you know not the one half of the truth. There is not
a living man in Palmyra, save only Antiochus, who would
not lay down his life for Zenobia. I except not myself.
This attachment is founded in part upon great and admirable
qualities. But it is to be fully explained only
when I name the fascinations of a manner and a beauty
such as poets have feigned in former ages, but which
have never been realized till now. I acknowledge it, —
we are slaves yoked to her car, and ask no higher felicity
or glory.'

`I wonder not,' said I; `though a Roman, I have hardly
myself escaped the common fate; you need not be surprised
to see me drawn, by-and-by, within the charmed
circle, and binding upon my own neck the silken chains
and the golden yoke. But see, the queen asks our audience.'

We accordingly moved toward the seat which Zenobia
now occupied, surrounded by her friends, some being
seated and others standing without order around her.

`Good friends,' she said, `I believe one thought fills

every mind present here. Is it not better that we give it
utterance? I need the sympathy and the counsel of those
who love me. But I ask not only for the opinions of those
who agree with me, but as sincerely for those of such
as may differ from me. You know me well in this, that
I refuse not to hearken to reasons, the strongest that
can be devised, although they oppose my own settled
judgment. Upon an occasion like this it would ill become
the head of a great empire, to shut out the slenderest ray
of light, that from any quarter might be directed upon the
questions which so deeply interest and agitate us. I believe
that the great heart of my people goes with me in
the resolution I have taken, and am supported in by my
council; but I am well aware, that minds not inferior to
any in strength, and hearts that beat not less warmly
toward their country and toward me than any others, are
opposed to that resolution, and anticipate nought but disaster
and ruin from a conflict with the masters of the
world. Let us freely open our minds each to other, and
let no one fear to offend me, but by withholding his full
and free opinion.'

`We who know our queen so well,' said Gracchus,
`hardly need these assurances. Were I as bitterly opposed
to the measures proposed as I am decidedly in favor of
them, I should none the less fearlessly and frankly declare
the reasons of my dissent. I am sure that every one here
experiences the freedom you enjoin. But who will need
to use it? For are we not of one mind? I see, indeed,
one or two who oppose the general mind. But for the rest,
one spirit animates all, and, what is more, to the farthest
limits of the kingdom am I persuaded the same spirit
spreads, and possesses, and fills every soul. The attempt
of Aurelian to control us in our affairs, to dictate to us
concerning the limits of our empire so far removed, is felt

to be a wanton freak of despotic power, which if it be not
withstood in its first encroachment, may proceed to other
acts less tolerable still, and which may leave us scarcely
our name as a distinct people — and that covered with
shame. Although a Roman by descent, I advocate not
Roman intolerance. I can see and denounce injustice in
Aurelian as well as another. Palmyra is my country and
Zenobia my queen, and when I seek not their honor, may
my own fall blasted and ruined. I stand ready to pledge
for them in this emergency, what every other man of Palmyra
holds it his privilege to offer, my property and my
life, and if I have any possession dearer than these, I am
ready to bring and lay it upon the same altar.'

The eyes of Zenobia filled at the generous enthusiasm
of her faithful councillor — and, for Fausta, it was only
a look and sign of the queen that held her to her seat.

Longinus then, as seemed to be his place, entered at
length into the merits of the question. He did not hesitate
to say that at the first outbreak of these difficulties
he had been in favor of such concessions to the pride of
Rome, as would perhaps have appeased her and cast no
indignity upon Palmyra. He did not scruple to add that
he had deeply disapproved and honestly censured that rash
act of the young princes in assuming the garb and state
of Cæsars. He would rather leave to Rome her own titles
and empire, and stand here upon a new and independent
footing. It was a mad and useless affront deeply wounding
to the pride of Aurelian, and the more rankling as it
was of the nature of a personal as well as national affront.
He withheld not blame too from that towering ambition
that, as he said, coveted the world because the gods had
indeed imparted a genius capable to rule the world. He
had exerted all his powers to moderate and restrain it, by
infusing a love of other than warlike pursuits. But, said

he, the Gods weave the texture of our souls, not ourselves;
and the web is too intensely wove and drenched in too
deep a dye for us to undo or greatly change. The eagle
cannot be tamed down to the softness of a dove and no art
of the husbandman can send into the gnarled and knotted
oak the juices that shall smooth and melt its stiffness into
the yielding pliancy of the willow. I wage no war with
the work of the gods. Besides, the demands of Rome
have now grown to such a size that they swallow up our
very existence as a free and sovereign state. They leave
us but this single city and province out of an empire that
now stretches from the Nile to the Bosphorus — an empire
obtained by what cost of blood and treasure I need not
say, any more than by what consummate skill in that art
which boasts the loftiest minds of all ages. He went
on to say, that Palmyra owed a duty not only to herself
in this matter, but to the whole East especially, and
even to the world. For what part of the civilized world
had not been trampled into the dust by the despotism of
almighty Rome. It was needful to the well-being of nations
that some power should boldly stand forth and check
an insolence, that suffered no city or kingdom to rest in
peace. No single people ought to obtain universal empire.
A powerful nation was the more observant of the eternal
principles of honor and justice for being watched by another,
its equal. Individual character needs such supervision
— and national as much. Palmyra was now an imposing
object in the eye of the whole world. It was the second
power. All he wished was, that, for the sake of the world's
peace, it should retain this position. He deprecated conquest.
However another might aspire to victory over Aurelian
— to new additions from the Roman territory, he had
no such aspirations. On the other hand, he should deplore
any success beyond the maintenance of a just and honorable
independence. This was our right, he said, by inheritance,
and as much also by conquest, and for this he
was ready, with the noble Gracchus, to offer to his sovereign
his properties, his powers, and his life. If my poor
life, he closed with saying, could prolong by a single year
the reign of one who, with virtues so eminent and a
genius so vast, fills the throne of this fair kingdom, I
would lay it at her feet with joy, and think it a service
well done for our own and the world's happiness.'

No sooner had Longinus ended, than Otho, a man of
whom I have more than once spoken to you, begged to
say a few words.

`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 Cæsar 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 councils 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 — anything 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 amibition, 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 should 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 councils? 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, overthrow 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,
or 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 shrunk not from any statement
however harsh and grating to their national vanity,
but which seemed to me to convey 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, however unlikely, 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 life-blood — 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,
too, 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-ingulphing 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,
yours 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 Cæsars' shoulders? Believe
it not. The storm that threatens might be 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 both 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?
Cæsar 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 around 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.