THE POWER OF MIND.
"On to Rome! on to Rome! On to the eternal city! On to the ancient
capital of empires! On to the throne of mighty kings of old! Attila
has conquered [AE]tius! The two mighty men have met; and the weaker
has given way. Attila triumphs over [AE]tius! On to Rome! on to Rome!
The world is open and prostrate before the sword of Attila. On to
Rome! on to Rome! On to spoil, and to victory, and to triumph!"
Such were the cries that ran through the host of the Huns, as they
marched on from Milan towards the devoted city of the C[ae]sars, And
mighty and terrible indeed was that innumerable multitude, as,
composed of a thousand nations, it flowed on like an overwhelming
deluge upon its way. Those who stood and gazed upon its wide-extended
front, as, rushing on irresistible, it swept the fair plains of
Lombardy, might well want language and figures to express the awful
advance of the barbarian world.
The dark thunder-cloud, sweeping at once over the clear blue sky, and
shutting out sunshine and daylight beneath its ominous veil, is too
slow in its course, too unsubstantial in its form, to afford an image
of that living inundation. The avalanche that sweeps down the side of
the Alps, overwhelming flocks, and herds, and cities in its way, is
but petty when compared with the immense masses of that fierce and
furious multitude. The long wave of the agitated sea, when cast by the
breath of the tempest upon the echoing shore, would give but a faint
idea of that rushing multitude of armed men.
No! Neither bounded to a narrow space, nor gradually and slowly
carried forward, nor checked in its course and retiring to return
again, did the multitudes of Attila advance. But, spread out from sea
to sea--rushing onward with the swiftness of the wind--irresistible,
overpowering, vast, like the dark tide of lava when it rushes down the
channelled sides of Etna, came the barbarian myriads, finding
brightness and beauty before them, and leaving darkness and desolation
behind.
Through every road, over every field, into every city, across every
river, they passed. Like the sword of the destroying angel in the
dwellings of the Egyptians, nothing seemed to stop them, nothing to
impede their progress, even for an hour. Terror and lamentation went
through all the land; and the voice of weeping was heard from the
banks of the Athesis to the Straits of Scylla; Ravenna, defensible as
it was, was abandoned in a day; and Rome itself wailed in trembling
for the approach of a new, a fiercer conqueror than Alaric.
At length the tent of Attila was pitched by the side of a grand lake,
where from its bosom flows the stream by whose banks the sweetest of
the Roman poets sung. No longer simple, as when he first entered
Greece, appeared the camp of the barbarian king; no longer was seen
the ring of wagons only, and the multitude sleeping in the fresh air
of night; but there, tents of every form and every hue diversified the
plain which stretches along, from the base of the gigantic mountains
that enclose the stormy waves of the Benacus, to the soft green fields
of the fair Mantuan land, where the "silver-gray cattle" of which
Virgil sung still bathe in the placid waters of his native Mincius.
Far and wide as the eye could see extended that vast encampment; and
the air, for many a mile, rang with the neighing of horses and the
clang of arms. At the very junction of the lake and the river, on a
high sloping ground, whence the eye of the monarch could behold both
the far plains covered by his innumerable host and the waters of the
lake, with all its grand and beautiful shores, was pitched the tent of
Attila, together with those of the persons immediately attached to the
monarch himself: and splendid was the sight, when, after a night of
repose, the cloudless sun of Italy rose up and poured its flood of
splendour over one of the loveliest scenes of earth, living and
animated with the figures of those wild but splendidly-attired
horsemen.
At the entrance of the tent, beside which his horse was held prepared,
stood Attila, gazing over that thrilling sight; and, strange as it may
seem, there was something in the picturesque beauty of the scene, in
the poetical aspect of the whole, the mighty host, the mighty
mountains, the beaming sunrise, and the glowing lake, that found, even
within the breast of the fierce conqueror, a sympathizing appreciation
of what is bright and beautiful in nature.
He stood and gazed, and felt his soul calmed and soothed.
"We will stay here to-day," he said. "The land is rich and plentiful:
the people will be happy in this place of oil and wine. We will stay
here to-day; and to-morrow, onward towards Rome! But what is that?" he
continued, after gazing for some minutes longer. "What is that,
winding slowly along in the distant country, following the road by the
side of the river? It looks like a long train of horsemen approaching
slowly, and it can hardly be any of our own tribes returning at this
early hour. What can that be?"
No eyes, however, but his own were keen enough to distinguish, in the
far distance, the object to which he pointed; and he added, "Let some
one be sent forth to see, and let no man be injured who comes to us in
the garb of peace. This day there shall be no blood shed, unless our
enemies seek it themselves. Here we will taste repose and
tranquillity."
Several hours had elapsed; the myriads of the Huns were all awake and
stirring; thousands of wild horsemen were galloping over the plain,
exercising their horses, or practising with the javelin or the spear:
and others on foot were moving about among the tents, in all the
bustling activity of the morning's duties, when the train which Attila
had seen approaching through the distant country entered the Hunnish
camp, and were led forward towards the tent of the monarch. Some of
his own messengers, who had gone out to meet the strangers, hurried on
before to inform him that envoys from the Emperor Valentinian were
even then coming near his presence. But the monarch, who still, though
changed in many things, retained in some degree his contempt for pomp
and show, merely ordered the hangings of his tent to be drawn up, and,
seating himself in the entrance, awaited the arrival of the imperial
ambassadors.
At their head appeared an old man, riding on a mule; and though the
Huns gathered round in crowds to see an equipage to which they were
unaccustomed, yet there was something so venerable and commanding in
that old man's air, that even the rude barbarian soldiers forbore to
press upon him, and merely gazed; while--with his look now raised to
heaven, as if in momentary supplication, now cast down upon the
ground, as if in deep thought--he rode slowly on through the midst of
that fierce and blood-accustomed host, as if fear and wonder were
utter strangers to his bosom.
After him followed a number of other men, clothed with princely
splendour, and mounted on fiery chargers; but ever and anon their eyes
were cast around upon the sea of dark faces that surrounded them, and
an expression, perhaps not of fear, but certainly of anxiety, might be
seen upon their countenances. At first the Huns demanded among
themselves why the old man upon the mule rode first before the
warriors; but when they compared his aspect with those who followed,
they saw that he was in his proper place.
Last came a number of domestic servants and attendants, followed by
slaves beating on a long train of beasts of burden; and in the slaves
might be seen--as with hard hearts and unsparing hands they struck
unmercifully the dumb suffering creatures but a grade below
themselves--in them might be seen, though springing from a lower
motive, the same fearless indifference to the presence of the strange
multitude as he who led them displayed from a sense of faith and duty.
At the foot of the little hill on which stood the tent of Attila the
multitude of the Huns paused, and followed the strangers no longer;
and there, too, the envoys of the emperor were directed to dismount.
The command was instantly obeyed; and leaving the servants and the
train of baggage in the hands of some of the officers of the camp, all
the rest began to ascend the hill towards the presence of the monarch,
who, seated in the door of his tent, with but a few of his chief
leaders around him, waited above, examining the persons and the air of
each of the strangers as he approached.
With a slow step, dignified, calm, and collected, that old man who had
led the Romans climbed the hill, slightly bowed by age, but rather
stiffened than enfeebled. He was tall and largely proportioned; and
his snowy hair, which, like that of the barbarians, felt not the
steel, escaping from a cap of a peculiar form that he wore upon his
head, flowed down in wavy curls upon his shoulders. His eye, which he
but once raised towards the tent of Attila as he ascended, was calm
and mild, but full of sleeping fire; and his step, though slow, was
planted firmly upon the ground, giving to his whole demeanour an air
of resolution and of power, which was not without its effect on those
who watched his advance up the mountain.
Attila himself, as he sat in the stern silence natural to him, and
beheld the calm and equable approach of the messenger of Valentinian
towards his presence, might wonder at that unshaken firmness which so
few displayed under similar circumstances. He moved not a muscle,
however, but gazed sternly upon the envoy, till at length, when
within ten paces of his seat, the great Pontiff of Rome--for he it
was--paused in his advance, and said to those who followed, in a full,
steady voice, "Let Avienus and Trigetius come with me! The rest wait
here!" and then, proceeding on his way, he drew near to Attila.
"Who art thou?" demanded the barbarian king, in that full deep tone
which was powerful and impressive, without being rude or abrupt. "Who
art thou that comest so boldly before Attila?"
"I am Leo, the servant of God!" replied the pope, bending his head as
he pronounced the almighty name.
"Of what God?" demanded Attila.
"There is but one God," replied Saint Leo; "there is but one God,
holy, just, and true; Lord of lords, and King of kings! The lowest of
his servants am I!"
"Thou meanest the God of the Christians?" said Attila.
The pope bent his head in reply, and the monarch proceeded. "It is
well," he said, "it is well! Now tell me what thou wouldst have with
Attila. Why comest thou to me hither, when, but a few short days, and
I had come to thee?"
"It is to prevent thy coming that I seek thee," replied the
bishop--"it is to prevent thy coming, and to stay the stream of blood
that is poured out before thy steps. It is to stay from desolation the
beautiful land that thou treadest like a wine-presser beneath thy
feet, crushing all that is good and excellent, and leaving nothing but
the worthless refuse. It is to adjure thee, by the name of God Most
High, to spare his servants, and to turn thee from a land which his
holy faith hath sanctified, and the blood of his saints made sacred. I
do adjure thee by his name to pause in the course which he has
hitherto made victorious, lest he take thy strength from thee, and
destroy thee as thou hast destroyed others. Monarch!" he continued,
seeing a cloud gathering on the brow of Attila--"monarch! I menace
thee not with any human arm. None has ever been able to resist thee
successfully; none has ever had power to oppose thee long: but know,
oh king! that thou, like all others, art but an instrument in the
hands of a mightier monarch. Thou art called the SCOURGE OF GOD, and
verily he has used thee for the purposes of his vengeance. With thee
hath he wrought destruction, and inflicted punishment upon the
faithless and the unrighteous. In his hand thou hast been as the
pestilence or the thunderbolt. Thou hast swept away nations. Thou hast
smitten down monarchs. Thou hast trodden the palace and the cottage
alike, with the sword of the destroying angel in thy hand; but now, in
the name of the same God, who sent thee forth to conquer and to slay,
I bid thee pause and turn back upon thy way, lest he take thy strength
from thee, and reduce thy glory into shame. Remember, oh king!
remember that one who, like thee, was mighty; who, like thee, was
fierce; who, like thee, was unconquerable by man, trod these same
plains but a few brief years ago; and, as a vulture, swept the land
with the wing of desolation. Remember how Alaric, the mighty and the
strong, marched on at the head of his innumerable hosts, and, like
thee, found none to stay him. Remember how he heard the warning to
pause, and turn back ere he set his foot within the eternal city.
Remember how he neglected the warning; how he despised the words; how
he conquered Rome, and died. In all things but in this was he like
unto thee! But in this was he unlike, for I know--and feel--and
see--as if it were before me in a vision, that thou shalt listen to
the word of the servant of God, and sheath the sword, and turn back
upon the way. Monarch! I tell thee, and my words shall prove true,
that none henceforth for ever shall march against Rome, and place
their camp round about it, and subdue it unto their hand, without
meeting some terrible reverse; without finding death, or downfall, or
dishonour follow, as surely as night follows day. Some shall come
against it and take it, and die as soon as they leave it. Some shall
assail it, and fall even in the hour of victory. Some shall subdue it,
and, after years of glory, shall see the brightness of their fame
tarnished with shame, defeat, and overthrow, with long and weary
inactivity, and lingering death. But thou shalt listen to the voice of
warning; thou shalt fear the name of God, and the word of God's
servant, and shall turn thee back, and escape the peril of
disobedience."
Bold and striking as his words was the action which, accompanied them;
dignified, nay, sublime, was the expression of his countenance. The
dark eye filled with the fire of genius, the fine features beaming
with the divine light of enthusiasm, the lips trembling with the
eloquence of the heart, the arms outstretched in passionate
expostulation, the broad chest heaving under its flowing robes with
the energy of lofty thoughts, while the full, powerful, melodious
voice, clear, rounded, unhesitating, poured forth the stream of
words--all, all formed a splendid whole, such as none there present
had ever seen before; and the barbarian monarch himself and his fierce
chiefs gave ready way to the delusions of imagination, and believed
that they beheld an immediate messenger from heaven. Even when he had
done, and remained with his firm unquailing gaze fixed upon the face
of Attila, with eyes that sunk not to encounter the look at which
nations trembled, all those around, though the impression produced by
his oratory perhaps faded, still looked upon him as a superior being,
still waited for the answer of their own monarch with anxiety, perhaps
with apprehension.
But Attila, though struck and admiring, forgot not himself in
wonder--that passion of the weak. From the beginning to the end, while
Saint Leo spoke, the mighty monarch fixed upon his countenance the
same stern, immoveable gaze, under the influence of which every
inferior mind gave way, every ordinary heart lost courage. Twice his
swarthy brow slightly contracted as the prelate spoke those bold words
which Attila's ear was seldom wont to hear; but his face was moved in
no other feature: and he made not an effort to stop the orator in the
course of his eager and energetic speech. When he had concluded,
Attila continued to gaze upon him thoughtfully and intently; but,
apparently, neither scornfully nor displeased.
At length he said, "Thou hast spoken like a god; but know that not the
gods themselves shall turn back Attila from his course, unless he have
the justice he has demanded. Thou art reverenced, oh Leo! as one of
mighty powers--as one inspired, perhaps, by the God whom thou servest,
with eloquence above that of mortals; and willingly will Attila hear
thee discourse on the matters of thy high calling, as to whether there
be more gods than one; as to the nature of the soul of man; the powers
that govern him throughout life, and the fate that awaits him beyond
the grave. On such matters shalt thou be listened to willingly, nay,
more, with reverent ears, as becomes those who hear the words of one
touched by the spirit of a god. We will attend to thine exhortations
in favour of Rome, to thy warnings in regard to those who conquer it,
even to thy menaces against the life of Attila himself. But Attila
turns not aside for words! He whom the embattled line of enemies
cannot impede is not to be overawed even by a holy man as thou art. He
fears not the sword; he avoids not the spear. The twanging of the
bowstring makes not his eyelids fall; the shout of the enemy is
pleasant on his ear. His battle-horse shall bear him onward
whithersoever his fate directs; and if the destiny of Attila lie
within the gates of Rome, to Rome herself and to her capital will
Attila go to seek it. Death comes but once, and chooses his own time.
The sentence is written on high; and so help me Mars and my good
sword, as I would not reverse it, were it to be fulfilled to-morrow.
My grave is already dug by the hand of destiny, wherever that grave is
to be. And what matters it to Attila whether he lie beneath the gray
olives of Italy, or the green birch-trees by the Danube?"
He paused a moment, gazing thoughtfully upon the prelate; and a slight
smile might have been seen upon the lip of Ardaric, to hear his mighty
leader adopting, as he went on in the career of victory, so much of
his own doctrine of fatalism.
In a moment Attila proceeded. "Thus much I have spoken," he said.
"Looking upon thee as a messenger from the gods, and filled with the
spirit of the knowledge of the future, willingly on these points will
I discourse with thee at large, seeing that in all the lands I have
visited I have never met any one like thee. But if thou comest as an
envoy from Valentinian--lord of these lands, but unto me a slave, on
whose neck I set my foot--thou must speak of other things if thou
wouldst turn me from the path which lies before me. Thou must speak of
offerings to atone for the past; of tribute to show his subjection for
the future; of the complete satisfaction of all my just demands. Thou
must show Attila that the glory and honour of himself and of his
people are to be maintained and increased by following the course that
thou wouldst have us pursue, ere thou canst hope to stay these myriads
on their forward way, or turn the sword of Attila in another
direction. Do this. Leave my justice and my honour no plea against
him, and I will raise up a wall between you and the desolation of my
presence. Your fields shall flourish in the sunshine. Your rivers
shall flow with the accustomed wine; the land teem with oil and bread;
and ye shall rear your children up in peace, safe from the destroying
sword, till the name of Attila be no more than the whisper of the wind
through the gorges of some distant mountain." A bright and heavenly
smile beamed up over the noble features of Saint Leo, and he replied
at once, without pause or hesitation, "Monarch, I will turn thee
back!"
There was something so dignified, so majestic, so sublime in the air,
the tone, and the manner with which the pontiff pronounced those few
words, that Attila himself was visibly struck and surprised. "How so?"
demanded he: "how so--how wilt thou turn me back? Wilt thou bring down
fire from heaven?"
"I will do more!" replied Saint Leo--"I will give thee such justice
that even the heart of a conqueror can demand no more! Thou hast said
that thou wilt turn back if I will satisfy thine honour and thy
justice. I have offers for thee, which, as a minister of God's word, I
declare to be as full and complete satisfaction as ambition itself
could demand. Wilt thou hear them now, oh king?"
"No," replied Attila, "I will not. Thou art weary with travel, and
hast many years upon thy brow. Attila has kept thee too long already
without offering thee bread and rest. This night shalt thou repose in
tranquillity and peace. The wine shall flow for thee, and the feast
shall be prepared--"
Saint Leo waved his hand, "Fasting and prayer," he cried, "fasting and
prayer shall be my companions. Prostrate in the dust, lifting my heart
unto the throne of God, humbly calling upon the name of my Saviour,
beseeching the Spirit of truth to guide me aright! With fasting and
with prayer will I entreat the almighty Disposer of all hearts to
soften thine, and change its stern nature into mercy. Be it as thou
hast said, oh king! I will seek repose. Those who came with me have
need of it; and in the mean time my words have fallen upon an ear that
will not lose them lightly. When may I hold further commune with
thee?"
"Two hours ere noon to-morrow," replied Attila. "Till then, seek
refreshment and repose, and Attila will take counsel as to the very
smallest offering which he can receive as a propitiation to suspend
his sword. In the mean time, I give thee unto the care of these my
officers. Thou fearest not to rest within the camp of the Huns?"
"I am in the hand of God!" replied Saint Leo, throwing wide his arms
and looking up to heaven--"I am in the hand of God! Why should I
fear?"