THE VISION AND ITS INTERPRETATION.
There were frequent messengers came and went to and from the tent of
Attila, and there was movement and agitation in the camp. Round the
monarch sat his tributary kings; and various were the different shades
of expression which passed over the countenances of those fierce
chiefs, as they listened to the words of their leader, and heard all
that had befallen since, on the preceding day, the great pontiff of
Rome had appeared to stay them in their advance.
"It was but a vision of the night!" said Attila--"it was but some idle
dream, and yet it came before me full, tangible, complete. There was
no wandering of thought to other things, no confusion of fancies, no
breaking off and beginning again; but it was all clear and definite,
accurate and minute; and yet it was but a vision, an idle dream, which
Attila will heed no more than he would a fanciful cloud wrought into
strange forms by the wind that bears it."
"Heed no visions, oh Attila!" said Ardaric--"the only sure vision will
be the walls of Rome."
"And yet, oh mighty king!" joined in Onegisus, "one at least here
present would fain hear the substance of the dream that disturbed thy
slumbers. It has been held by wise men and by priests long versed in
sacred things, that dreams come forth from the gods, and are one means
of making their will known to men. I at least would fain hear what
vision it was that broke the sleep of Attila."
"And I also! and I! and I!" said many voices round as soon as the
demand was made; and leaning his broad brow upon his hand, with his
eyes fixed thoughtfully upon the table at which he sat, Attila not
unwillingly proceeded to speak as they required.
"It seemed to me as if I had slept some hours," he said, "and that I
was awakened by a noise, when, looking up, I saw all things around me
as I had seen them when I closed mine eyes. There were the hangings of
the tent, there the clothing I had put off to rest, there burnt the
feeble lamp, there lay the strong sword. Two javelins crossed hung
upon my right, and a spear lay near me on the ground. I saw it all as
distinctly as ere I closed my eyes that night, when lo! the hangings
of the tent were moved, raised up; and, without sound or motion of
their limbs, the figures of two men approached my couch. A cloud of
light environed them around, hiding in its blaze all things behind it.
The lamp grew dim as if it had not been lighted, and in this cloud,
borne on to where I lay, the strangers came, clothed in strange robes,
simple and unadorned, with hair and beards of snowy whiteness, and the
marks of extreme age upon the face of each. One, however, was older
than the other, and of coarser features, though there was a fire and
eagerness in his large eye which spoke a mighty and energetic spirit,
prompt in its emotions and its acts. The younger seemed more calm and
of a loftier aspect, and on his countenance were seen the traces of
high thoughts, perhaps, too, of some sufferings endured with
fortitude, but felt with keen perception. A smile, bland and
beautiful, sat on his lips, and there was in his glance that quick yet
thoughtful movement which I have seen in men, deep arguers on right
and wrong, subtle in their eloquence, and powerful to untie the
tangled intricacy of questions remote and difficult. Around them in
that cloud of light there shone a greater light, as if it issued forth
from them and from their garments; and though they seemed of flesh as
we are, yet there was a difference that scarcely can be told, but
which rendered their bodies more glorious and pure to the eye than
ours. I would fain have stretched out my hand to seize my sword, but I
lay as if chained down by adamantine bonds. I would fain have spoken,
to demand who dared in such a sort to disturb the sleep of Attila, but
my tongue refused its office, and my lips moved without a sound.
Approaching, as I have said, without any visible motion of their
limbs, but borne forward by some unseen power, they came near, and
stood by the side of my couch: there, gazing upon me for a moment,
their eyes seemed filled with pity or with sorrow, and at length the
younger said, 'Attila! Attila! thou hast fought, and thou hast
conquered, and unwittingly, but not unwillingly, thou hast done the
will of God! Now turn thee back upon thy way, for thou shalt smite
this land no more. Turn thee back upon thy way, and hesitate not, for
we are sent to bid thee sheath the sword, lest it fall upon thine own
head. Turn thee back, turn thee back, and that speedily, as thou
wouldst live and conquer still!' And with that the light grew faint,
the figures seemed to dissolve, the cloud passed away; and I was lying
in my own tent, with the lamp burning feebly by my side. It was but a
vision, an idle dream, and it is passed! Attila heeds it not. It was
but a vision, an unreal vision!"
"It was a strange one though, oh mighty king!" said Onegisus; "and I
would fain ask yon holy man who came hither yesterday if he can give
the interpretation thereof, and tell who were these that appeared unto
thee."
"First let those who slept in the outer tent," said Ardaric, "be
closely questioned if any one passed by them in the night."
"I have questioned them already," said Attila--"I have done more: I
rose instantly--for my limbs and my mind seemed freed as if from a
heavy weight--and drawing back the curtains that divide the tent, I
found that no one living could have entered without treading on the
sleeping bodies of those of my warriors who lay without. It was but a
vision, an idle vision of the night!"
"I put no faith in visions," said Ardaric: "they never visit me. If I
dream, 'tis of some empty thing, taking fanciful shapes without
regularity or continuance, forgotten as soon as passed. I put no faith
in visions."
Attila's brow contracted slightly, but he made no reply; and Valamir,
his Gothic tributary, who had hitherto remained thoughtful and silent,
now raised his eyes. "Thy vision is a strange one, oh king," he said,
"and worthy of some consideration. More, perhaps, than thou thyself
art willing to bestow upon it. Yet would I not ask the interpretation
of this eloquent man, whose voice was heard so powerfully yesterday;
for he of course will see therein a confirmation of his own warnings.
There is another in the camp who may be better trusted. Dost thou
remember, oh mighty Attila, a holy hermit, who dwelt in the mountains
two or three days' journey from Margus, and who--"
"But he is dead," interrupted Attila; "he has been dead two years."
"True," replied Valamir; "but near him there dwelt another hermit,
less shrewd and wise, perhaps, but, even more than he was, touched
with the fire of the gods. Wild, rash, and fearless, he speaks
whatever the spirit prompts, and in such a man's interpretation one
may trust his confidence. Among the train who followed hither this
high-priest of Rome was the very man, and well acquainted with the
manners and the languages of us people of the North. He was wandering
yesterday evening through the camp; and I myself saw him preaching
boldly strange doctrines of other gods to a large crowd of Huns and
Gepid[ae]. Let him be sent for, and to him let the vision be told. On
his interpretation we can better rely."
All voices applauded the proposal, and instantly was it executed.
Messengers went forth to find the enthusiast Mizetus, and in a few
minutes he stood before Attila and his counsellors. He was silent as
the grave while the vision was being told to him; but then--stretching
forth his hands, and turning his eyes full upon the countenance of
Attila, though not with a fixed and steadfast gaze, but with a wild
and rolling glance--he exclaimed, "Is it not simple as the light of
day? Is it not open as the summer's sky? Is it not clear as the waters
from the rock? What need of interpretation? What need of any one to
explain? There is but one God, oh Attila! though thou and these, as
slaves of Satan, worship stone, and wood, and iron. That God has been
merciful to thee, oh king! and has sent unto thee the apostles of his
son, Peter the prince of the apostles, and Paul the chosen by the
voice of God! To thee, from another world, he has sent those, through
the midst of thy sleeping guards, who, when they lived in this world,
passed through the hands of jailers, cast from them the fetters of
iron, and walked free through the prison doors of the Roman governor.
To thee has he sent them in mercy, to turn thee back from the way of
destruction. Listen to their words, tread back thy steps, sheath the
sword, open thy heart to the word of God, and thou shalt be safe. If
thou doest not this, if thou goest on in rapine and injustice,
shedding the blood of the faithful and smiting the people of Christ,
lo! I tell thee, when thine errand is accomplished, and the judgments
of God wrought out, thou shalt die by some despised death; thine
armies shall melt away like snow, the bodies of thy warriors slain
shall rot under the summer's sky, and a pestilence shall go forth from
their bones to root out those whom the sword has spared. Wo unto you!
wo unto your mighty men, for the sword of the Lord is out against you,
and he shall scatter you to the uttermost parts of the earth, and
shall grind your mouths in the dirt of the earth ye have trodden so
proudly, and shall cast ye forth as dead dogs, to be an abomination to
the passer-by!"
More than one sword leaped from its sheath at those bold words, but
the deep, thunder-like voice of Attila stayed them from smiting the
rash enthusiast. "Harm him not, harm him not!" cried the monarch. "By
the soul of Attila, he dies who strikes him! Did we not bid him speak?
Did we not call for his words? and shall we slay him because they are
such as please us not? Stranger," he continued, "thou hast spoken
rashly among rash men, nevertheless thou art safe, and mayst depart!"
Mizetus turned to leave the tent; but, ere he went, he raised his
hand, and said, in a solemn tone, "I grieve for thee, oh Attila! for
thy fate is near!"
"Let it come!" replied Attila--and the enthusiast departed.
"We have spent too much time on this thing," continued the monarch,
"let us now turn our thoughts to more substantial warnings. Ardaric,
my friend, as thou hast said, this vision was indeed but an empty
dream, and but matter for a moment's speculation; but I have tidings
for thee which thou knowest not of, for thy Gepid[ae] lie high up upon
the hill. There are those here, however, who know that between sunset
last night and sunrise this morning, the sword of the pestilence smote
among the warriors who lie by the side of the river nearly ten
thousand men!"
Ardaric started up, and gazed fixedly on the countenance of Attila.
"Itis true!" said the monarch; "but this is not all, my friend. A
fleet from Constantinople has wafted a new host to our noble enemy
[AE]tius; nor is that all either," he added, raising his voice; "the
armies of Marcian have crossed the Danube, and cut to pieces three of
our tribes upon the Dacian frontier. Now, friends and counsellors, you
know the whole. Tell me what shall be the course of Attila. Shall I go
on, and lay Rome in ashes? Shall I pause here, and accept the tribute
this priest is prepared to offer? Willing am I to do the first,
willing would I be to do it, were I as sure that death would follow
within a day as I am that there is a sun behind the clouds that now
stretch over the sky."
"Hear what he has to offer, oh mighty king," said Ardaric; "then, if
it be enough to satisfy the honour of Attila and save the glory of his
warriors, accept the conditions. Let us retire from this pestilential
land, and then--"
"What then?" demanded Attila, after waiting for a moment to let the
chief conclude his sentence.
"Nay, I know not," replied Ardaric. "Then--let us do whatsoever Attila
will."
A brief smile passed like lightning across the countenance of the
king. "And then," he said, "and then--to Constantinople! and we shall
see who is to live or die; who is to be a monarch, who a slave! The
sword of a thousand battles against the broken spear of a weak Roman!
Methinks the chances are unequal. Kings of great nations! Friends of
Attila! There is no need to ask what are the terms this Roman bishop
brings. They are known to me already--revealed to me in no vision,
Ardaric, but told to my messenger at my demand. He offers a gift ten
times in value all that the East and West have ever given, an annual
tribute double that which we received from Theodosius. A future
compensation for the dowry of Honoria, and the restitution of all
captives and fugitives from the Hunnish nation! Is this sufficient?"
"It is! it is!" replied the chiefs; and a messenger was instantly
despatched to summon Saint Leo to the tent of the barbarian monarch.
With the same calm dignity as before, the prelate presented himself
before the council of Attila, and in his whole demeanour there was
that grand, but simple and unassuming majesty, which commanded the
reverence, the respect--almost the love--of men of a different nation,
creed, language, manners, habits, thoughts. Attila himself rose at his
approach, and, with an air not less in dignity, took him by the hand
and placed him by his side.
The pontiff felt that he had touched the heart of the barbarian, and
he was more moved at having done so than had the utmost ire of that
mighty king--a king who feared no chastisement, acknowledged no laws
but his own sense of right, bowed to no superior on earth or in
heaven--than had his ire threatened the worst tortures that could be
inflicted. Through the reverence with which he had inspired the
barbarian monarch he saw, as through a long avenue, a number of
sympathies, noble feelings, and generous sentiments, akin to those
which dwelt in his own heart; while hope stood half way between, and
beckoned to the kindred bands to unite for mighty purposes and grand
endeavours. A moment's reflection, however, a moment's glance of the
mental eye over the sad but solemn and oracular book of experience,
showed him the falsehood of the siren's tale, and made him grieve that
the brightest feelings of the human heart, mutually perceived and
understood, and which, could they meet and co-operate, would work out
the blessing and happiness of thousands, should ever thus be stopped
by obstacles insignificant, and totally unseen by those who attempt to
pass them, till all their efforts for unanimity and concord are
overthrown.
Calmly and clearly, in answer to the questions of the king, he
recapitulated the splendid, the degrading offers of Valentinian; and
he added, "This, oh king, am I commanded to propose: this am I
authorized to promise. The gift is already in thy camp; the tribute
shall soon follow; and--as a mediator between thee and them who
suffer, standing pure and impartial under the eye of God, who is of no
nation and of no country, and respecteth no man for a name--I declare
that thou hast now offered unto thee more than thou canst claim
aright; more than equity could pronounce against them; more than
justice can award unto thy claim. But when unto all this is added the
great triumph of clemency, the mighty privilege of showing mercy, the
triumphant glory of sparing those thou couldst destroy; so help me
Heaven, as I do believe that there is offered unto thee more than even
thy conquering sword could win, more than thy highest ambition could
desire, more than thy vastest efforts could attain! Is it more
glorious to slaughter than to save? Is it more mighty to destroy than
to spare? Is it a greater sign of power to cast down than to raise up?
He that saves from the slayer is greater than the slayer; he that
shields from the destroyer is victorious over the destroyer; and he
that raises up does a deed which shall last long after he who casts
down is forgotten! Spare then, oh Attila, spare the nations! and if in
sparing them thou gainest a triumph over thyself, thou doest that
which the noblest of thine enemies has never been able to do, and
raisest to thyself the crowning trophy of thy fame, under which shall
be written by the hand of history, '_None but Attila gained the
victory over Attila!_'"
Even had he not spoken, the terms he offered would have been accepted;
but had they been less than they were, they would have been accepted
under the influence of his voice. The gorgeous presents were brought
up and displayed before the tent of Attila. The gold and the silver
were poured out; the jewels and the cloth of gold were displayed to
the eyes of the admiring chiefs who crowded round. But Attila himself
looked not on them; his eyes were either thoughtfully lifted to the
sky, in that direction wherein lay Rome, or else bent down in deep
reflection upon the ground, while traces of emotion, slight indeed in
themselves, but still from their unusualness indicative of strong
feelings within, might be traced upon his countenance.
When all the gifts were displayed, he turned abruptly to Saint Leo,
saying, "Messenger of a mighty God, Attila turns upon his steps. Take
what thou wilt of these baubles, either as an offering to thy Deity or
as a gift unto thyself!"
"God forbid!" replied the pontiff: "the God I serve--the only
God!--dwells not in temples made with hands, and requires no offerings
from the sons of men but a pure and contrite spirit, a repentant and
an humble heart. As for me, I take no part in the spoils of my
brethren, and I leave them to him to whom they were sent, and of whose
forbearance they are the price and recompense."
"Thou art the first priest," cried Attila--"thou art the first priest
of any god that ever yet I heard of who refused gold and jewels when
they were offered to him freely."
"Thou hast known but few Christian priests, my son," replied Saint
Leo, mildly. "The priests thou hast known were the servants of those
whom we call devils, Mammon; or Plutus, the demon of covetousness;
Belial, Lucifer, or Apollo, the god of pride; Moloch or Mars, the
demon of bloodshed. The priests of all these and many others, for
their several purposes, seek wealth and splendour; but the servants of
God, the only true God, seek his glory, and know their own
unworthiness. Oh Attila, I leave thee! I came unto thee, knowing that
thou hadst a mighty name, and that none upon this earth had been found
to conquer thee; that kings, and princes, and warriors of great renown
bowed down trembling before thee, and shrunk from the very glance of
thine eye; and yet I feared thee not. I go from thee now with my
reverence not lessened, but with deep sorrow at my heart, to find
nobler qualities in thy nature; qualities which, guiding and directing
the inferior ones of courage and military skill, have made thee what
thou art; and yet to see that those qualities, like diamonds in some
undiscovered mine, lie wasting all their brightness, because they are
not known and estimated. The knowledge of one true God, the faith in
one redeeming Saviour, are all that is wanting to raise Attila high
above living men! I leave those in thy camp who may show thee a light
thou hast never yet seen. Listen unto them, oh Attila! listen unto
them and be saved! Yet! yet! I trust the mild spirit of the Almighty
God will touch thy heart, and turn it into humility and righteousness.
Then, mounting from the humbleness of faith, Attila will rise to a
pitch of glory no earthly arms can ever win, and stand upon a point
where mortal monarch never placed himself without the Spirit of the
Lord to raise him up on high."
"Thou speakest words I do not comprehend," said Attila, turning away.
"God make them clear to thee in his own good time!" replied the
bishop, and slowly descended the hill.