Chapter VI: The Battle

We must pass over the events of some months, and change the scene to the heart of France.

In the vast plains between the Seine and the Marne, where the eye can roam unobstructed over many a mile of open country, runs a brook of the clearest water, which, wandering on through vineyard and cornfield, joins the latter river not far from Soulanges.

At the time I speak of, however, no corn spread over that wide plain, no vines obstructed the progress of the eye, and nothing but thin low grass, which had sprung up where wheat and oats had been cut down or burnt, covered the brown surface of the earth with a robe of autumnal green. A wanderer, who stooped down to bathe his weary brow in that rivulet, had gazed, before he bent his head, upon the wide scene before his eyes, and over the whole plain not a living creature was seen to move. A raven winged its slow flight across the sky, but that was the only sign of life which the keenest eye could discover. When the wayfarer raised his head, however, and gazed again, a brown shadow seemed to lie upon the land near the horizon, and, mounting upon the base of a ruined landmark, he saw that dull shade creeping onward towards him. He looked up to the sky to see if it were a cloud, which, borne by the wind, might interrupt the light of the sun; but over the whole heaven was spread a thin, filmy vapour, which intercepted all the stronger rays.

He gazed again, and the shadow seemed to assume the form of a wide range of heathy bushes blown about by the air. Still the cloud advanced, and gradually spreading, like a high wave, seen rushing in a long bending line over the shore, it came forward across the plains, stretching out as far as the eye could reach. Distinct and more distinct at length the brown masses raised themselves above the earth, and in the end innumerable horsemen might be seen advancing with a slow pace from the westward. A cry of terror burst from the weary wanderer, and he fled as fast as his limbs would bear him. Ere half an hour had passed, the war-horse of Attila pawed the ground beside the fallen landmark, and the myriads of the Huns spread out over all the plain.

"Let the ground before me be cleared," cried the king; and then, poising his javelin above his head, he cast it forward with prodigious force. A hundred cubits farther than any other arm could throw, it still sang on through the air, then touched the earth, and quivered in the ploughed-up ground.

"There pitch my tent," continued Attila; "there fix our camp. Turn all faces back towards the west, for Attila has retreated far enough, and here we have space to wheel our horses on the foe. Oh Theodoric! Theodoric! thou hast deceived and betrayed thy friend. I offered to make thee a king indeed, instead of a puppet in the hands of Rome; but [AE]tius with his loud promises, and Avitus with his fair flattery, have seduced thee to the side of Attila's enemies, and, ere two days are over, either he or thou must die. Had it not been for thee and thy Goths, the Romans of Gaul, like the Romans of the East, had been now crouching in trembling terror at the feet of Attila. But they shall still tremble! Shall it not be so, oh Valamir? Will not thy subjects die their hands in the blood of their degenerate kinsmen? Shall it not be so, Ardaric? Will not thy Gepid[ae] smite the heads of the vain loquacious Franks? Attila will beard the Roman, and even here shall be the spot. Make the camp strong, and let no one sit apart from the rest. Let the wagons be placed around, and the spaces beneath them filled up, and leave no entrance but one; for if we destroy not this Roman army in the field, we will wait it in our camp, and by the head of my father I will not leave the land till it is dispersed. Bid the wise men and the diviners sacrifice, and consult the bones of the slain, that I may know what will be the event of to-morrow. Tell them that we fight, even if we die. Let them speak the truth, therefore, boldly. Ha! Theodore, my son, ride hither with me."

The young Roman spurred on his horse at the monarch's command, and rode on beside him while he surveyed the field. Theodore, however, was not armed, and he only feared that Attila might be about to ask him some question in regard either to the Roman discipline or the arrangements of his own troops for battle, to answer which he might feel incompatible with his duty to his country. But Attila, as he proceeded, gave directions to the various leaders who followed him, interrupting, from time to time, for that purpose, his conversation with the young Roman, which turned to a very different theme.

"Those diviners," he said, "I have no trust in them. Would that we had here that holy man from the mountains beyond the Teïssa! Then should we have some certainty in regard to the result of to-morrow's battle. Dost thou know, my son, what are the means which the Christian augurs use to learn the future as they do? Valamir, my friend," he continued, turning to the King of the Ostrogoths, "seest thou yon mound, the only one which interrupts the eye as it wanders towards the east. Though that mound be scarcely bigger than a great ant-hill, much may depend upon it--even the fate of the battle," he added, in a low voice. "We will range our host along this brook, at the distance of two hundred cubits; the hill will be before us, but let it be seized ere the strife commences. Say, Theodore, knowest thou how the Christian augurs are accustomed to divine?"

"The Christians have no augurs, oh Attila!" replied Theodore. "There have been, and there are, prophets among them to whom is revealed by God himself some of the events that are to come."

"That is but a pretence," answered Attila. "We judge by the bones of the victims, other nations by their entrails. Some divine by the sand, some by the lightning, some by the flight of birds; but all who have any knowledge of the future gain it from some manifest sign. So must it be with the Christian augurs; but they conceal their knowledge, lest others should learn it and be as wise as they are. Ardaric, my friend and wise counsellor, place thyself early upon the right. Thou wilt never fly nor bend, I know, but let us all be calm in the hour of battle. Let not rage and rashness make us forget that victories are as often won by calm and temperate skill as by impetuous daring. Lo! yonder come the Romans! I would fain that they should not live another night on the same earth with Attila; but it is too late to destroy them to-day. I will not look upon them, lest I be tempted overmuch. What say the diviners?" he continued, turning to an attendant who came running up from a spot where a large fire had been hastily lighted.

"I know not, mighty king!" replied the slave; "but the sacrifice is over, and they come to seek thee."

Attila paused, and waited, while a crowd of Huns and slaves, all eager to hear the announcement, came forward, accompanying the diviners. They, unlike the Roman augurs of a former time, were dressed in no graceful robes; but, covered simply with the rude garments of the Scythians, they were only distinguished from the rest of the Huns by a wilder and fiercer appearance. As they came near, however, Attila dismounted from his horse; and the diviners approaching with less reverence than the rest of his people displayed towards him, the elder of the party addressed him boldly.

"Hear, oh Attila!" he said--"hear what the gods pronounce by the bones of the victims! Of the result of the battle we know nothing, and therefore we cannot promise you the victory; but we know that the leader of your enemies shall die in the strife. To-morrow's sun shall rise upon him living, and set upon him dead. We have spoken what we know."

"[AE]tius shall die, then!" said Attila. "So let it be! But can ye say nothing farther! Can ye not tell which will be successful in to-morrow's strife!"

"We had no answer," replied the diviner, with a gloomy look; "the gods left it doubtful."

"They left it to our own valour, then!" cried Attila, in a voice of triumphant confidence. "Our hearts and our arms shall make it no longer doubtful. Lo! yon Romans still advance over the plain. They must not come too near us. Ardaric, let thy Gepid[ae] recross the stream, and ensure that the enemy do not approach within a hundred bowshots. Theodore, wouldst thou leave me, my son?" he added, seeing the young Roman's eyes turned with a look of natural interest upon the advancing legions of [AE]tius--"wouldst thou leave me, my son? If so, Attila gives thee leave to go. I fear not that there should be one brave man added to yon mighty host of cowards. I have saved thy life, I have loved thee well, I have treated thee as my child; but if thou wouldst leave Attila at such a moment as this, thou shalt go in peace."

Theodore sprang to the ground and kissed the hand of the monarch. "I will not leave thee, oh Attila!" he said--"I seek not to leave thee, and of all times I would not leave thee now. Fight against my native land I cannot; but through to-morrow's field I will ride unarmed by the side of Attila, and defend him, as far as may be, from every danger in the strife. I am grateful, oh mighty king! for all your favours: I love you for all your kindness and all your noble qualities; and doubt me not, I beseech you, for though I fight not on your part, none will be more faithful to you than I will. Oh, doubt me not!"

"I do not doubt you," answered Attila; "but let us to our camp."

Difficult were it to describe, impossible to convey any adequate idea of the scene of tumult, din, and confusion which the camp of the Huns presented during that night. The circle of wagons placed in a double row, and forming in reality a strong fortification, was nearly completed, when Attila led the way thither, and turned his steps towards his own tent. Fastened to strong stakes driven into the ground between the inner wheels, the wagons were immoveable from without, but easily turned or withdrawn from within; and embracing an immense extent of ground, they afforded space for the mighty host which Attila had led into the plains of Gaul.

During that night, and comprised in a space of a few miles, more than a million of human beings, either in the Hunnish or the Roman army, prepared for battle and panted for carnage. No still quiet followed in the train of night: the blows of the hammer and the mallet, the ringing of armour, the voices of guards and commanders, the tramp of thousands passing to and fro, the murmur of innumerable voices, the loud and ringing laugh, the war-song shouted high and strong, the sounding of trumpets and of wild martial music, the neighing of several millions of horses,[1] raised a roar through the whole air, in the midst of which the sounds of an accidental conflict that took place between the troops of Ardaric and those of Theodoric, the Gothic ally of [AE]tius were scarcely heard; though so fierce was the struggle for the bank of the rivulet, that fifteen thousand men were left dead within a stone's throw of the Hunnish camp.

---------------

[Footnote 1: The armies of Attila were always followed, we are told, by an immense number of spare horses, besides those which bore his warriors and those which were attached to the wagons.]

---------------

Thus passed the night; and early on the following morning Attila appeared at the door of his tent, and was soon surrounded by the different leaders of the nations under his command. His countenance was serene and bright; and the attendants who had passed the night in his tent declared that he had slept as calmly as an infant, from the moment that he lay down his head to rest to the moment that he woke to battle. Calmly and tranquilly he asked the tidings of the night; and, in a brief conversation with the leaders, assigned to every one his proper post, and pointed out the great objects to be striven for in the coming conflict. Towards the third hour after daybreak, one of the watchers before the camp of the Huns announced that they saw movements in the Roman camp; and Attila, instantly springing on his horse, led forth his troops himself through the single aperture which had been left for that purpose. Two hours more elapsed ere the whole of that mighty host were in array; but then to any eye looking along over the wide plain, strange and fearful must have been the sight, yet grand and magnificent.

On one side of that little brook, running pure and clear between those hostile armies--like the bright stream of divine love, pouring on its refreshing waters of peace amid the strife and turbulence of human passions--stretched forth the host of Attila, nearly seven hundred thousand horsemen from every land and every nation of the North. There, in the centre, under his own immediate command, appeared the dark line of dusky Huns, little embarrassed with defensive armour, but bearing the strong and pliant bow upon their shoulders, and at their side the quiver, loaded with unerring arrows; the large heavy sword, too, was in the hand of each, and at many a stirrup of the wilder tribes hung, as an ornament, a gory human head. Far on the right appeared the Gepid[ae], fairer in complexion, more bulky in limb, and more splendid in arms and apparel, but generally reputed less active, less fierce, and less persevering than the Huns. On the left, again, were seen the Ostrogoths, tall, fair, and powerful; and the intervening spaces were filled up with a thousand barbarous tribes--the Rugi, the Geloni, the Heruli, the Scyrri, Burgundians, Turingians, and those called the Bellonoti. A thousand tongues were spoken in that host, a thousand varieties of face and garb were seen, but all were actuated by the same feelings--hatred to the Romans, and reverence for the mighty Hun.

On the other side of the brook, again, appeared, not less in number, and not less various in appearance, the vast army which [AE]tius had collected from the different nations that inhabited Gaul; the long-haired Frank, the blue-eyed Goth, the sturdy Armorican, the powerful but doubtful Alan; and there, upon his right, appeared Theodoric, the wise and valiant monarch of the Visigoths, with his white hair, speaking the passing of many a careful year, and his three gallant sons, ready to obey, with the activity of youth, those directions which the wisdom of his age might dictate. In the centre were placed all the more doubtful allies of the Roman empire, mingled with such as might act as a check upon their wavering faith. On the left of the line appeared the Roman eagles, under the command of [AE]tius in person. There, too, might he be seen, in the eyes of the whole army, riding from rank to rank, and with bold and cheerful words encouraging his soldiers, and exciting them to great exertion. Small in person, but graceful, well proportioned, and active, with the lion heart of the hero and the eagle glance of the great general, the whole aspect of [AE]tius breathed courage and inspired energy. Wherever he rode, wherever he appeared, a cheerful murmur greeted him; and when at length he galloped his splendid battle-horse along the line, and, riding up to Theodoric, embraced the old chieftain without dismounting from his charger, a loud and universal shout burst from the army, and seemed to the ears of the Romans a presage of victory.

Calm, grave, and immoveable sat Attila upon his black charger, a stone's throw before the line of the Huns. On him every eye in his own host was turned; and in that moment of awful suspense which precedes the closing of two mighty powers in the first shock of battle, the barbarian myriads seemed to forget the presence of their Roman adversaries in the intense interest with which they regarded their terrible leader. Armed, like themselves, with a bow upon his shoulder and a sword in his hand, Attila sat and gazed upon his forces, turning from time to time a casual glance upon the Romans, and then looking back along the far extending line of Huns, while a scarcely perceptible smile of triumphant anticipation hung upon his lip.

He sat almost alone, for his nearest followers and most faithful friends remained a few paces behind; while, with that stern, proud glance, he ran over his often victorious bands, and seemed waiting with tranquil confidence for the approaching strife. At length, all seemed prepared on every side, and the stillness of expectation fell upon the field. It continued till it seemed as if all were afraid to break it, so deep, so profound grew that boding silence.

Slowly turning his horse, Attila rode back towards the centre of the Hunnish cavalry, and then, with a voice so clear, so distinct, so powerful, that its deep rolling tones are said to have reached even the Roman lines, he exclaimed, "Unconquerable race, behold your enemies! I strive not to give you confidence in me or in yourselves. Here is no new leader, no inexperienced army. Well do you know how light and empty are the arms of the Romans. They fly not with the first wound, but with the first dust of the battle! Fearing to meet you unsupported, and remembering that where Romans have encountered Huns the Romans have fallen like corn before the reaper, they have called to their aid degenerate tribes, who have taken shelter in the vicious provinces of Rome, after having been expelled from among the native Goths, from the Gepid[ae], the Heruli, the Alani. These, whom we have driven from among us--these, weak, corrupted, degraded as they are--form the bulk, supply the strength, afford the courage of the army before you. Behold them as they stand! are they not as one of their own fields of corn, which we have a thousand times trodden down beneath our horses' feet? We are no weak husbandmen, that we should fail to reap such a harvest as that. On, warriors, on! Pour on upon the Alani! Break through the degenerate Goths! At the sound of our horses' feet, the Roman eagles, as is their custom, will take wing and fly; and yon dark multitude shall disappear like the mist of the morning! Why should fortune have given unto the Huns innumerable victories, if not to crown them all with this successful day? On, warriors, on! Drink the blood of your enemies! Let the wounded, in dying, strike his javelin through his foe, and no one dare to die ere he have brought a Roman head to the ground. I tread before you the way to victory; and if any one follow not Attila, he is already dead!"

A loud acclamation burst from the nearer ranks, and ran along all the line of the Huns, while even those who had not heard poured forth their own clamorous applause of the words which they fancied had been spoken; and the clang of arms dashed violently together, mingled with the deafening shout that rose up from the barbarian host.

"Seize on yon hill, Valamir!" cried Attila, while the roar continued: "it should have been done before."

The monarch of the Ostrogoths hastened to obey; but scarcely had his troops been put in motion, when a corresponding movement was seen upon the part of the Romans; and the terrible strife of that day--the most fierce, the most sanguinary that Europe ever has seen--was commenced by the struggle for that low hill, between the two rival tribes of Goths.

For a time the rest of both armies remained unmoved, as if spectators of the combat; but rage and emulation increased in their bosoms every moment as they gazed, and at length it became impossible for the leaders on either part to restrain in their troops the burning thirst for battle. On poured the Huns upon the Romans: on rushed the Romans on the Huns. The whirling masses of the Scythian horsemen, enveloped in a cloud of dust, from which shot forth a hail of arrows, passed through and through the ranks of the enemy, casting themselves in vain upon the firm legions of [AE]tius, scattering the Franks and the Sicambres, sweeping down whole ranks of the Alani and the Goths. On, in heavy line, with their long spears lowered, poured the multitude of the Gepid[ae], bearing slaughter and confusion wherever they came.

But still Theodoric and his Goths maintained the hill; still [AE]tius and his legions fought unconquered on the plain; still the Franks and the Alani, knowing that valour could alone save them, continued the combat against the Huns. Hour after hour passed by; rank after rank was mowed down; the rivulet, late so pure and clear, flowed onward one unmingled stream of blood; and the feet of the Hunnish horses, as they charged again and again the confused but unsubdued masses of the Romans, splashed up a gory dew from the pools that lay unabsorbed upon the loamy soil. So great, so terrible was the slaughter, that the horses could scarcely keep their feet among the bodies of the dead and dying. Each waving sword dismissed some erring spirit to its last account; each footfall trampled on the writhing limbs of some mangled fellow-creature.

In the foremost ranks of battle, wherever danger was pre-eminent, wherever the foes remained unbroken, wherever the carnage was most intense, there was seen Attila; and wherever he appeared, there for the time was victory obtained. Through the whole of that day, too, Theodore was by his side; and for the second time he saw upon him what his followers not unaptly called "the spirit of the battle." Though prompt and clear in every command, keen and ready to seize every advantage, the calm and moderate sternness of his demeanour was gone; and, fierce as the lion of the wilderness, rapid as the leven bolt of heaven, remorseless and unsparing as the hurricane, he swept on. No one stood before him for an instant; no one was struck a second time; but, wherever an adversary crossed his path, there was left, at a single blow, a disfigured corpse upon the ground, or else his horse's feet trampled out the faint sparks that his sword had left.

Death seemed to march before him against his enemies, nor ever turned to approach himself; and only twice, when surrounded almost on every side by the foe, could Theodore interpose to parry with an iron truncheon, which was the only weapon that he bore throughout the day, the blows of a spear and a javelin, which were aimed at the monarch's throat. The young Roman knew not that he had seen the service rendered; but at length, when the day was far spent, Ellac, his eldest son, crossed the path of the monarch, saying, "Ride not in the battle with the Roman, oh my father! He is of the country of our enemies, and may kill thee when thy back is turned. Let me slay him even now, lest the traitor destroy thee!"

"He has saved my life twice this day!" cried Attila, urging forward his horse. "Out of my way!" he continued, seeing that his son still stood before him. "Out of my way! or, by the god of battles, I will send thee to the land of spirits! Out of my way!" and he raised his sword over his son's head as if about to cleave him to the jaws.

Ellac saw that the moment was not his; and, reining back his horse, he sought another part of the field, while Attila pursued his career, and strove, but strove long in vain, to obtain possession of the hill. At length, as the closing day waxed faint and dim, and the gray shade of evening falling over the whole bloody scene, announced that the battle must soon close or be prolonged into the night, Attila for a moment gained the summit of that long-contested eminence, and slew with his own hand the last of the Gothic warriors, whose especial charge had been to defend that post. Up to that instant he had rushed on like a devouring flame, leaving nothing but ashes behind him; but there he suddenly paused, gazed forth upon the confused and mingled masses of the Huns and Romans, that, with equal success, and very nearly equal numbers, were seen spread over the plain for many miles around. He then lifted his eyes towards the sky, marked the dim gray that mingled with the blue, and the bright star of evening betokening that the brighter sun was gone; and with a sudden calmness said, in a low, tranquil voice, "It is too late for victory to-night! It is too late! Let the trumpets be sounded!" he continued, to some of those who followed--"let the trumpets be sounded, to recall all men to the camp! Gather together the ten nearest squadrons upon this slope! The Romans, I think, have had enough of strife to-day, and will not seek it further; but they have fought well for once, and Attila must defend his own, while they seek a place of repose for the night."

He added some further orders; and in a few minutes was heard, from the Hunnish camp, the sound of trumpets, giving forth the peculiar notes of recall with which the Huns and other barbarous nations were acquainted; and, separating themselves gradually but securely from the masses of the Romans, the various tribes which had followed Attila to that bloody battle were seen moving, in firm and regular order, towards their camp.

What would have been the result of this movement under other circumstances, it is difficult to say, had the eye of [AE]tius marked the proceedings of the Huns, or the mind of Theodoric directed the movements of the enemy; but trampled under the horses' feet, not far from the spot where Attila then sat, lay the disfigured body of the Gothic king, and the Roman general was far away, embarrassed with a party of the Gepid[ae], by whom he had nearly been taken.

The inferior commanders of the Roman host gladly perceived that a battle, of which they were beginning to despair, was not entirely lost; and seeing the dark cloud of Huns, with which Attila on the hill covered the man[oe]uvres of his troops, they dared not act any very vigorous part, with thinned and exhausted troops, against so bold and well-prepared an enemy. The trumpets of Attila continued to sound for two hours after nightfall: his forces entered the camp unmolested, and the last of the host who left the battle-plain was the monarch of the Huns himself.[2]

---------------

[Footnote 2: Such I believe to be the real history of this famous contest. We derive all our knowledge of the particulars from the Goths and Romans, as the Huns were not historians, or, at least, did not write their own version of the events in which they were engaged. Even in the present age, when both parties do not scruple to render their pretensions to success on such occasions permanent, how often do we see a battle lost claimed by the loser as a battle won! and, of course, it is more likely to have been so when there was no check found in a counter statement. The historians, however, suffer one or two important facts to appear, which prevent us from believing that [AE]tius and Theodoric obtained a victory over Attila on the present occasion. In the first place, it is clear that the immense Roman and Gothic army dispersed itself immediately after the battle in which Theodoric was killed. Reasons have been assigned for this proceeding, which are in themselves improbable and unsatisfactory; but which, when coupled with the fact that Attila afterward sacked Langres and Besançon, and with the strong reasons which exist for believing that [AE]tius himself retreated at once into the Lyonnaise, render the victory of the Romans somewhat more than doubtful. It seems to me very clear that the battle may have had an indecisive termination, but that [AE]tius, finding that the Goths and Franks could not be induced to try the fortunes of another day against Attila, retreated himself in haste towards Italy; while Attila, whose loss had been very great, proceeded by a new road towards his own land, ravaging the country, and taking several very important towns in his way. The very words of Jornandes admit that Attila was but little depressed by the event of the battle, and imply that his after-march was still as in a career of victory. Nor is there the slightest proof, that I have been able to discover, that [AE]tius, as some have declared, followed the monarch of the Huns even at a distance.

If such were the way that the Romans and Goths employed a victory, they must have been moderate and generous indeed; and, under such circumstances, it might be doubtful whether they did not treat their enemies more mildly than their friends. The character of [AE]tius is represented by his panegyrists on the present occasion (probably to screen him from the disgrace of defeat) in a very singular and not creditable point of view. He cheated both the Goths and Franks, we are told, in order to get rid of them; and then, when left alone with Attila, escorted his great enemy quietly out of Gaul, sufferi2796ng him to sack and destroy what cities he pleased as he went. Is this reasonable? Is this probable?]

---------------