WINGED WORDS WINDSDAY
Compiled by Rob Chappell (@RHCLambengolmo)
Vol. 1, No. 18: March 2, 2022
Celebrating Women’s History Month
Episode #1: Septimia Zenobia Augusta
Editor’s Note
March is Women’s History Month,
and in honor of this occasion, I’d like to share with you the story of one of
the most noteworthy women leaders of antiquity. Zenobia of Palmyra (an ancient
city in central Syria) was not only a remarkable Middle Eastern leader but also
a famous philosopher after her forced retirement in Italy. I have condensed
(and slightly modernized) the following account of her life from the pages of Historical
Tales: The Romance of Reality, Volume X: Greek by Charles Morris
(published in 1908 and now in the public domain).
“Zenobia, Queen of the East”
Among the most famous of the
women of ancient days must be named Zenobia (ca. 240-after 275 CE), the
celebrated Queen of Palmyra and the East, who claimed to be descended from
Cleopatra. She was familiar with the Greek, the Syriac, and the Egyptian
languages and was an adept in Latin, then the political language of the
civilized world. She was an earnest student of Oriental history, of which she
herself drew up an epitome, while she was fully conversant with Homer, Plato,
and the other great writers of Greece.
This accomplished woman gave her hand in
marriage to Odaenathus, who from a private station had gained by his valor the
empire of the East. He made Syria his by courage and ability and twice pursued
the Persian king to the gates of Ctesiphon. Inured to fatigue, she usually
appeared on horseback in a military habit and at times marched on foot at the
head of the troops. Odaenathus owed his success largely to the prudence and
fortitude of his incomparable wife. In the midst of his successes in war,
Odaenathus was cut off in 267 CE by assassination. He had punished his nephew,
who killed him in return. Zenobia at once succeeded to the vacant throne and by
her ability governed Palmyra, Syria, and the East.
Her husband Odaenathus had
avenged Valerian, the Roman emperor, who had been taken prisoner and shamefully
treated by the Persian king. For this ser-vice, he was confirmed in his
authority by the Senate of Rome. But after his death, the Senate refused to
grant this authority to his widow and called on her to deliver her dominion
over to Rome. The martial queen refused, defied the power of Rome, and
determined to maintain her empire in despite of the Senate and army of the
proud “master of the world.”
War at once broke out. A Roman
army invaded Syria but was met by Zenobia with such warlike energy and skill
that it was hurled back in defeat, and its commanding general, having lost his
army, was driven back to Europe in disgrace. This success gave Zenobia the
highest fame and power in the world of the Orient. The states of Arabia,
Armenia, and Persia, in dread of her enmity, solicited alliance with her. To
her dominions, which extended from the Euphrates over much of Asia Minor and to
the borders of Arabia, she added the populous kingdom of Egypt, the inheritance
of her claimed ancestors. The Roman emperor Claudius II acknowledged her
authority and left her unmolested. Assuming the splendid title of Queen of the
East, she established at her court the stately power of the courts of Asia,
exacted from her subjects the adoration shown to the Persian king, and, while
strict in her economy, at times displayed the greatest liberality and
magnificence.
Queen Zenobia’s Last Look upon
Palmyra by Herbert Schmalz (1856-1935). Image Credit: Public Domain via
Wikimedia Commons
But a new emperor came to the
throne in Rome: Aurelian, a fierce and vigorous soldier, marched at the head of
the Roman legions against this valiant queen, who had built herself up an
empire of great extent, and demanded that she should submit to the power of his
arms. Asia Minor was quickly restored to Rome, Antioch fell into the hands of
Aurelian, and the Romans still advanced to meet the army of the Syrian queen.
Meeting near Antioch, a great battle was fought. The army of Zenobia met with
defeat and at a subsequent battle, near Emesa, met with a second disastrous
repulse.
Zenobia found it impossible to
collect a third army. Most of the nations under her control had submitted to
the conqueror. Out of her lately great empire only her capital, Palmyra,
remained. In this city, surrounded with strong walls, Zenobia had gathered the
various military engines that in those days were used in siege and defense and
was prepared to make the most vigorous resistance to the armies of Rome.
The siege proved difficult, and
the emperor, leading the attacks in person, was himself wounded with a dart.
Aurelian, finding that he had undertaken no trifling task, prudently offered
excellent terms to the besieged, but they were rejected with insulting
language. Zenobia hoped that famine would come to her aid to defeat her foe and
had reason to expect that Persia would send an army to her relief. Neither
happened. The Persian king had just died. Convoys of food crossed the desert in
safety. Despairing at length of success, Zenobia mounted her fleetest dromedary
and fled across the desert to the Euphrates. Here she was overtaken and brought
back a captive to the emperor's feet.
Soon afterwards, Palmyra
surrendered. The emperor treated it with lenity, but a great treasure in gold,
silver, silk, and precious stones fell into his hands, with all the animals and
arms. Zenobia, being brought into his presence, he sternly asked her how she
had dared to take arms against the emperors of Rome. She answered, with
respectful prudence, “Because I disdained to consider as Roman emperors an
Aureolus or a Gallienus. You alone I acknowledge as my conqueror and my
sovereign.”
On his return, Aurelian
celebrated his victories and conquests with a magnificent triumph, one of the
most ostentatious that any Roman emperor had ever given. To Zenobia the victor
behaved with a generous clemency such as the conquering emperors of Rome rarely
indulged in. He presented her with an elegant villa at Tibur, or Tivoli, about
twenty miles from the imperial city; and here, sur-rounded by luxury, she who
had played so imperial a role in history sank into the humbler state of a Roman
matron. Her daughters married into noble families, and the descendants of the
once Queen of the East were still known in Rome in the fifth century.
Further Reading
·
https://blogs.getty.edu/iris/zenobia-visionary-queen-of-ancient-palmyra/ (Zenobia: Visionary Queen of Ancient
Palmyra)
·
https://chaucer.fas.harvard.edu/pages/monks-prologue-and-tale (The Story of Zenobia in Lines 2247-2374 of
“The Monk’s Tale,” from Geoffrey Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales)
·
https://www.poemhunter.com/poem/alexander-and-zenobia/ (“Alexander and Zenobia,” a Poem by Anne
Brontë)
“Zenobia”
By Mary Elizabeth McGrath Blake (1840-1907)
The passive
hands
Held loosely
by their golden weight of chain, —
The heavy
folds of mantle and of robe
Partaking of
her majesty, — the mien
So full of
royal dignity and grace, —
Thus, with a
cloud upon the perfect face,
A shadowy
sorrow veiling all its fire,
A world of
passion sleeping on the lips,
And
down-dropped eyes that spoke the heart within,
Zenobia
walked through Rome.
She does not
see
The changing
looks of pity or of hate
That fall on
her from unfamiliar eyes;
Nor hear the
rumble of the chariot wheels
That bear
the haughty conqueror. Away
Beyond the
yellow Tiber, and the flow
Of the blue
sea that laps the Syrian strand,
Beyond the
reach of desert and of plain,
She stands
beside the temples of her gods
In fair
Palmyra. Round her in the air
The swaying
palm-trees nod their tufted plumes,
And eastern
blossoms drunk with eastern spice
Fling
perfume from their honeyed chalices.
She hears
within her palace walls once more
Her
children's voices playing in the shade
That filters
through the garden walks; or proud
In all the
blazoned pageantry of war,
She leads
again from out the city gates
The shining
legions of her dauntless hosts,
And hears,
like incense rising from their lips,
The shout of
praise that lifts her name to heaven.
Her heart is
with Palmyra as it stood
In bygone
days, her glory and her pride;
Nor in her fitful
musing does she dream
Of that dark
hour, when, silent and alone,
She saw the
royal purple of her robe
Grow dim
forever with the stain of blood
And dust of
desolation.
O pale mute
marble! Most serenely still,
Yet eloquent
with more than voiceful thought,
Thus stand
forever! Holding through all time
The passing
record of a passing hour,
Rest with
the seal of silence on thy lips,
And speak
the lessons of a vanished past.
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