Chapter XVIII: 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?"