Part 29

“After a successful expedition against the Gothic plunderers of Asia, the Palmyrenian prince returned to the city Emessa, in Syria. Invincible in war, he was there cut off by domestic treason, and his favourite amusement of hunting was the cause, or at least the occasion, of his death. His nephew Mæonius presumed to dart his javelin before that of his uncle; and, though admonished of his error, repeated the same freedom. As a monarch, and as a sportsman, Odenathus was provoked, took away his horse, a mark of ignominy, and chastised the rash youth by a short confinement.

“The offence was soon forgotten, but the punishment was remembered; and Mæonius, with a few daring associates, assassinated his uncle in the midst of a great entertainment. Herod, the son of Odenathus, though not of Zenobia, a young man of a soft and effeminate temper, was killed with his father. But Mæonius obtained only the pleasure of revenge by this bloody deed. He had scarcely time to assume the title of Augustus, before he was sacrificed by Zenobia to the memory of her husband.

“With the assistance of his most faithful friends, she immediately filled the vacant throne, and governed with manly counsels, Palmyra, Syria, and the East, above five years. By the death of Odenathus, the authority was at an end which the senate had granted him only as a personal distinction; but his martial widow, disdaining both the senate and Gallienus, obliged one of the Roman generals who was sent against her, to retreat into Europe, with the loss of his army and his reputation. Instead of the petty passions which so frequently perplex a female reign, the steady administration of Zenobia was guided by the most judicious maxims of policy. If it was expedient to pardon, she could calm her resentment; if it was necessary to punish, she could impose silence on the voice of pity. Her strict economy was accused of avarice; yet, on every proper occasion, she appeared magnificent and liberal. The neighbouring states of Arabia, Armenia, and Persia dreaded her enmity and solicited her alliance. To the dominions of Odenathus, which extended from the Euphrates to the frontiers of Bithynia, his widow added the inheritance of her ancestors, the populous and fertile kingdom of Egypt. The emperor Claudius acknowledged her merit, and was content that, while _he_ pursued the Gothic war, _she_ should assert the dignity of the empire in the East. The conduct, however, of Zenobia was attended with some ambiguity; nor is it unlikely that she had conceived the design of erecting an independent and hostile monarchy. She blended with the popular manners of Roman princes the stately pomp of the courts of Asia, and exacted from her subjects the same adoration that was paid to the successors of Cyrus. She bestowed on her three sons a Latin education, and often showed them to the troops adorned with the imperial purple. For herself she reserved the diadem, with the splendid but doubtful title of Queen of the East.

“When Aurelian passed over into Asia, against an adversary whose sex alone could render her an object of contempt, his presence restored obedience to the provinces of Bithynia, already shaken by the arms and intrigues of Zenobia. Advancing at the head of his legions, he accepted the submission of Aucyra, and was admitted into Tyana, after an obstinate siege, by the help of a treacherous citizen. The generous though fierce temper of Aurelian abandoned the traitor to the rage of the soldiers: a superstitious reverence induced him to treat with lenity the countrymen of Apollonius, the philosopher. Antioch was deserted on his approach, till the emperor, by his salutary edicts, recalled the fugitives, and granted a general pardon to all who, from necessity rather than choice, had been engaged in the service of the Palmyrenian queen. The unexpected mildness of such a conduct reconciled the minds of the Syrians, and, as far as the gates of Emessa, the wishes of the people seconded the terror of his arms.

“Zenobia would have ill deserved her reputation, had she indolently permitted the emperor of the West to approach within a hundred miles of her capital. The fate of the East was decided in two great battles; so similar in almost every circumstance, that we can scarcely distinguish them from each other, except by observing that the first was fought near Antioch, and the second near Emessa. In both, the queen of Palmyra animated the armies by her presence, and devolved the execution of her orders on Zabdas, who had already signalized his military talents by the conquest of Egypt. The numerous forces of Zenobia consisted, for the most part, of light archers and of heavy cavalry, clothed in complete steel. The Moorish and Illyrian horse of Aurelian were unable to sustain the ponderous charge of their antagonists. They fled in real or affected disorder, engaged the Palmyrenians in a laborious pursuit, harassed them by a desultory combat, and at length discomfited this impenetrable but unwieldy body of cavalry. The light infantry, in the mean time, when they had exhausted their quivers, remaining without protection against a closer onset, exposed their naked sides to the swords of the legions. Aurelian had chosen these veteran troops, who were usually stationed on the Upper Danube, and whose valour had been severely tried in the Alemannic war. After the defeat of Emessa, Zenobia found it impossible to collect another army. As far as the frontier of Egypt, the nations subject to her empire had joined the standard of the conqueror, who detached Probus, the bravest of his generals, to possess himself of the Egyptian provinces. Palmyra was the last resource of the widow of Odenathus. She retired within the walls of her capital, made every preparation for a vigorous resistance, and declared with the intrepidity of a heroine, that the last moment of her reign and her life should be the same.

“In his march over the sandy desert between Emessa and Palmyra, the emperor Aurelian was perpetually harassed by the Arabs; nor could he always defend his army, and especially his baggage, from those flying troops of active and daring robbers, who watched the moment of surprise, and eluded the slow pursuit of the legions. The siege of Palmyra was an object far more difficult and important, and the emperor, who with incessant vigour pressed the attacks in person, was himself wounded with a dart. ‘The Roman people,’ says Aurelian, in an original letter, speak ‘with contempt of the war which I am waging against a woman. They are ignorant both of the character and the power of Zenobia. It is impossible to enumerate her warlike preparations, of stones, of arrows, and of every species of missile weapons. Every part of the walls is provided with two or three balistæ, and artificial fires are thrown from her military engines. The fear of punishment has armed her with a desperate courage. Yet still I trust in the protecting deities of Rome, who have hitherto been favourable to all my undertakings.’ Doubtful, however, of the protection of the gods and of the events of the siege, Aurelian judged it more prudent to offer terms of an advantageous capitulation; to the queen, a splendid retreat; to the citizens, their ancient privileges. His proposals were obstinately rejected, and the refusal was accompanied with insult.

“The firmness of Zenobia was supported by the hope that famine would soon compel the emperor to repass the desert; and by the reasonable expectation that the kings of the East, and particularly the Persian monarch, would arm in defence of their most natural ally. But fortune, and the perseverance of Aurelian, overcame every obstacle. The death of Sapor, which happened about this time, distracted the councils of Persia, and the inconsiderable succours that attempted to relieve Palmyra, were easily intercepted, either by the arms or the liberality of the emperor. From every part of Syria, a succession of convoys safely arrived in the camp, which was increased by the return of Probus, with his victorious troops, from the conquest of Egypt. It was then that Zenobia resolved to fly. She mounted the fleetest of her dromedaries, and had already reached the banks of the Euphrates, about sixty miles from Palmyra, when she was overtaken by the pursuit of Aurelian’s light horse, seized, and brought back a captive to the feet of the emperor. Her capital soon after surrendered, and was treated with unexpected lenity. The arms, horses, and camels, with an immense treasure of gold, silver, silk, and precious stones, were all delivered to the conqueror, who, leaving only a garrison of six hundred archers, returned to Emessa, and employed some time in the distribution of rewards and punishments at the end of so memorable a war, which restored to the obedience of Rome those provinces that had renounced their allegiance since the captivity of Valerian.

“When the Syrian queen was brought into the presence of Aurelian, he sternly asked her how she had presumed to rise in arms against the emperors of Rome? The answer of Zenobia was a prudent mixture of respect and firmness. ‘Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my sovereign.’ But as female fortitude is commonly artificial, so it is seldom steady or consistent. The courage of Zenobia deserted her in the hour of trial; she trembled at the angry clamours of the soldiers, who called aloud for her immediate execution; she forgot the generous despair of Cleopatra, which she had proposed as her model; and ignominiously purchased life by the sacrifice of her fame and her friends. It was to their counsels, which governed the weakness of her sex, that she imputed the guilt of her obstinate resistance; it was on their heads she directed the vengeance of the cruel Aurelian. The fame of Longinus, who was included amongst the perhaps innocent victims of her fear, will survive that of the queen who betrayed, or the tyrant who condemned him. Genius and learning were incapable of moving a fierce unlettered soldier, but they had served to elevate and harmonize the soul of Longinus. Without uttering a complaint, he calmly followed the executioner, pitying his unhappy mistress and bestowing comfort on his afflicted friends.

“Returning from the conquest of the East, Aurelian had already crossed the straits which divide Europe from Asia, when he was provoked by the intelligence that the Palmyrenians had massacred the governor and garrison which he had left among them, and again erected the standard of revolt. Without a moment’s deliberation, he once more turned his face towards Syria. Antioch was alarmed by his rapid approach, and the helpless city of Palmyra felt the irresistible weight of his resentment. We have a letter of Aurelian himself, in which he acknowledges that old men, women, children, and peasants had been involved in that dreadful execution, which should have been confined to armed rebellion; and although his principal concern seems directed to the re-establishment of a temple of the Sun, he discovers some pity for the Palmyrenians, to whom he grants the permission of rebuilding and inhabiting their city. But it is easier to destroy than to restore. The seat of commerce, of arts, and of Zenobia, gradually sunk into an obscure town, a trifling fortress, and at length a miserable village. The present citizens of Palmyra, consisting of thirty or forty families, have erected their mud cottages within the spacious court of a magnificent temple.

“Since the foundation of Rome, no general had more nobly deserved a triumph than Aurelian, nor was a triumph ever celebrated with superior pride and magnificence. The pomp was opened by twenty elephants, four royal tigers, and above two hundred of the most curious animals from every climate of the North, the East, and the South. They were followed by sixteen hundred gladiators, devoted to the cruel amusements of the amphitheatre. The wealth of Asia, the arms and ensigns of so many conquered nations, and the magnificent plate and wardrobe of the Syrian queen, were exposed in exact symmetry or artful disorder. The ambassadors of the most remote parts of the earth,--of Ethiopia, Arabia, Persia, Bactriana, India, and China, all remarkable by their rich or singular dresses, displayed the fame and power of the Roman emperor, who exposed likewise to the public view the presents that he had received, and particularly a great number of crowns of gold, the offerings of grateful cities. The victories of Aurelian were attested by the long train of captives who reluctantly attended his triumph,--Goths, Vandals, Sarmatians, Alemanni, Franks, Gauls, Syrians, and Egyptians. Each people was distinguished by its peculiar inscription, and the title of Amazons was bestowed on ten martial heroines of the Gothic nation who had been taken in arms. But every eye, disregarding the crowds of captives, was fixed upon the Queen of the East and the emperor Tetricus. The latter, as well as his son, whom he had created Augustus, was dressed in Gallic trousers, a saffron tunic, and a robe of purple. The beauteous figure of Zenobia was confined by fetters of gold; a slave supported the gold chain which encircled her neck, and she almost fainted under the intolerable weight of jewels. She preceded, on foot, the magnificent chariot in which she once hoped to enter the gates of Rome. It was followed by two other chariots, still more sumptuous, of Odenathus and of the Persian monarch. The triumphal car of Aurelian (it had formerly been used by a Gothic king) was drawn on this memorable occasion either by four stags or by four elephants. The most illustrious of the senate, the people, and the army closed the solemn procession. Unfeigned joy, wonder, and gratitude swelled the acclamations of the multitude; but the satisfaction of the senate was clouded by the appearance of Tetricus; nor could they suppress a rising murmur that the haughty emperor should thus expose to public ignominy the person of a Roman and a magistrate.

“The triumph over, Aurelian behaved generously to his beautiful and royal captive. He presented Zenobia with an elegant villa at Tibur or Tivoli, above twenty miles from the capital; the Syrian queen insensibly sunk into a Roman matron, her daughters married into noble families, and her race was not extinct in the fifth century.”

MILAN.

A.D. 338.

Uraïas, nephew of Vitiges, besieged Milan in 338. That city, then a magnificent one, was esteemed the second of the West. With the assistance of ten thousand Franks, furnished by Theodebert, king of Austrasia, Uraïas pressed the siege warmly during six months. The Goths, masters of the city, delivered it up to pillage, made the garrison prisoners, put the inhabitants to the sword, and carried off the women into captivity.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1139.

In this year the inhabitants of Milan revolted against Frederick Barbarossa. The angry emperor immediately laid siege to that city. The cruel conqueror drove out all the inhabitants, razed the most beautiful of the edifices with the ground, demolished the gates, its triumphal arches, its baths, its most magnificent houses, and sowed salt upon its ruins, to denote that it should never be rebuilt. His cruel design was disappointed; Milan soon arose again from her ashes.

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1499.

During the wars of the French in the Milanese, in the reign of Louis XII., the Chevalier Bayard fell in with an Italian party in the neighbourhood of Milan, and attacked it warmly. On his arriving at the gates of Milan, a French gendarme cried out to him with a loud voice, “Turn, man-at-arms, turn!” Bayard, transported by the desire of conquering, was deaf to these repeated cries, and entered the city at full gallop, as if, says an historian, he meant to take that capital alone. Soldiers, people, even women, fell upon him. Cajazzo, whom his valour astonished, ordered his men-at-arms to cover him from these assaults, and made him his prisoner. He took him to his own house, and afterwards to sup with the duke of Milan. Ludovic, who had witnessed the extraordinary feats of the Chevalier from his palace windows, spoke of the brave Frenchman with great admiration, and with a view of ascertaining his character, conversed freely with him. “My brave gentleman,” said the duke, “what brought you hither?” “The desire of conquering, my lord,” replied Bayard. “And pray did you think of taking Milan alone?” “No,” rejoined the knight, “but I reckoned upon being followed by my companions.” “They and you together,” said Ludovic, “could not do it.” “Well,” said Bayard, with his characteristic frankness, “I must admit they are wiser than I have been; they are free, and I am a prisoner, although to one of the bravest and most generous of men.” The prince then asked him, with an air of disdain, “What is the strength of the French army?” “For our parts,” replied Bayard, “we never think of counting our enemies; but what I can assure you is, that my master’s soldiers are all picked men, before whom yours will have no chance.” Ludovic, very much piqued, replied that effects gave a very different idea of his troops, and that a battle would soon proclaim both his right and their courage. “Would to God,” cried Bayard, “that it were to-morrow, and I were free!” “You are free,” replied the prince; “I like your frankness and your courage, and, to the first benefit, I beg to add whatever you desire.” Bayard, penetrated with so much kindness, threw himself on his knees before the duke, and begged him to pardon, in favour of his duty, all that might have appeared too bold in his speech. He then requested to have his horse and his arms, and returned to the French camp, to give a highly favourable account of the generosity of Ludovic.

FOURTH SIEGE, A.D. 1706.

Prince Eugene had made himself master of Milan, but he could not be sure of keeping it without occupying the citadel. The marquis de la Florida was the governor of it. Prince Eugene summoned him to surrender, at the same time threatening to grant no quarter if he did not capitulate within four-and-twenty hours. “I have defended twenty-four places for my masters, the kings of Spain,” replied the governor, “and I have made up my mind to be killed on the breach of the twenty-fifth.” This bold reply, which was known to be the expression of a strong mind, caused the prince to renounce the project of attacking the castle by force, and he was satisfied with blockading it.

Milan was besieged by the king of Sardinia in 1733, by Don Philip of Spain in 1745, by Buonaparte in 1796, by Suwarrow in 1799, and by Buonaparte in 1800; but there is nothing interesting in the details of any of these sieges.

TOURNAI.

A.D. 438.

Towards the middle of the fifth century, Clodio, first of the race of Merovingian kings of the Franks in Gaul, entered Belgium, surprised the Roman troops, defeated them, and laid siege to Tournai, even then a powerful city. But it could not withstand the conqueror long; he took it, and gave it up to pillage.

SECOND SIEGE, A.D. 1340.

After the naval victory gained by Edward III. of England, near Ecluse, that prince presented himself before Tournai. French authors say his army amounted to a hundred and twenty thousand men, which appears an immense number for that period; but Edward was assisted by so many Belgians, and other nations at feud with France, that his forces were great, though principally composed of foreigners. Proud of his strength, he feared no obstacles. But Godemar Dufay, the governor of the city, had prepared for a long defence, and Edward’s plans being known, Dufay had a numerous and well-disciplined garrison. He was likewise assured of the good-will of the inhabitants, and was seconded by the _élite_ of the chivalry of France. Philip VI. soon came himself to animate his brave subjects, and with several battalions, encamped between Lille and Douay. As soon as he began operations, Edward became aware of the rashness of his enterprise; and he sent a challenge to the French king to fight him in single combat, a hundred against a hundred, or in a general battle. This letter was addressed to Philip de Valois, without any other title. Philip replied, “A letter has been brought to our camp, addressed to Philip de Valois, in which letter were several requests which you make to the said Philip de Valois. As it is not for us, we do not reply to it; but we take advantage of the coming of your herald to remind you that you are our liegeman; that by attacking us, and raising the cities of Flanders against their count and against us, their sovereign and yours, you commit an act of rebellion, perjury, and felony, and for which, with the help of God, we hope to subdue you and to punish you. Besides, you propose a duel on very unequal terms; you offer to hazard your own person only against both the kingdom of France and the person of its king. If you will increase the stake, and put also the kingdom of England on the issue of that duel, we will, though the terms would be then very unequal, willingly accept of the challenge.” All this was intended, no doubt, to stimulate the troops on both sides; we do not believe that either of these royal heroes was in earnest. Both sides were tired of the contest, after a siege of about twelve weeks. The inhabitants grew short of provisions, and Edward’s forces decreased daily by death and desertion. In this situation, they listened to the friendly intercession of Joan, countess dowager of Hainault; a truce was concluded, and Tournai was saved.

Dazzled with the glories of Crecy and Poitiers, we English are accustomed to be too proud of the reign of Edward III., that “mighty victor, mighty lord;” whereas few events in our history produced more or longer-endured misery to two great countries than Edward’s unjust claim to the crown of France: unjust, because it was in opposition to the laws of that country, by which all such cases must be settled. This calamitous war lasted a hundred years, and, we have no doubt, by the enmity being thus carried down from father to son, created that unnatural antipathy between two neighbouring nations which is now so happily being removed by their being united in a good and holy cause. For our part, we never take up the thin strip of a sword, which is all time has left of the weapon of this hero, without reflecting on the evil he did and prepared, and turning, with the poet, to his “funeral couch, with not one to grace his obsequies!”

THIRD SIEGE, A.D. 1513.

Henry VIII., king of England, in his famous expedition into France, attacked Terouanne, a town situated on the frontiers of Picardy. This siege is chiefly remarkable for the manner in which Fontrailles, a French officer, contrived to bring in a supply of provisions and ammunition. Henry and his nobles, together with the emperor Maximilian, who was with the English army, carried on the siege so languidly, that the town was more in danger from famine than from its foes. The above-named officer appeared at the head of eight hundred horsemen, each of whom carried a sack of gunpowder behind him and two quarters of bacon. With this small force he made a sudden irruption into the English camp, and advanced to the fosse of the town, where each horseman threw down his burden. They immediately returned at the gallop, and were so fortunate as again to break through the English, and to suffer little or no loss. But the English had soon their revenge. The famous battle of Guinegate shortly followed, in which the French made such good use of their spurs, and in which the pride of their chivalry, Bayard, Bussy d’Amboise, Clermont, Imbrecourt, and others were taken prisoners. After this defeat, Henry made the mistake of returning to the siege of so inconsiderable a town as Terouanne. The place capitulated, and he demolished the fortifications. The army then advanced against Tournai.