Attila: A Romance. Vol. I.

by G. P. R. James

The mixture of foreign nations with the Hunnish population had indeed produced a sort of mockery of the vices and luxuries of civilized capitals; and Theodore saw that simple fare, and coarse, unornamented garments were by no means universal among the Huns. Gold, and silver, and precious stones appeared upon the persons and in the dwellings of many, and even the silken vestures of the East were seen among the female part of the inhabitants.

For several days Theodore remained almost totally without society; for, after the first movement of curiosity, the inhabitants of the palace took no further notice of him, and no one else sought for his acquaintance, except, indeed, some of those Romans who had abandoned their country and assumed the appearance of the Huns. Several of these, it is true, presented themselves at his dwelling, and would fain have looked upon him as one of themselves; but Theodore was on his guard, and he received their advances somewhat coldly. He was ready, indeed, to meet with kindly friendship any one whom the arm of injustice had driven from their native land, and who preserved pure their faith and honour, but unwilling to hold an hour's companionship with men who had been scourged forth by their own vices, or had betrayed their native land for the gratification of any passion, whether the sordid hope of gain, the wild thirst of ambition, or the burning fury of revenge. Of all who thus came to him he was suspicious, and his doubts were not removed by their manners; for all more or less affected to graft upon the polish of the Roman the rude and barbarian fierceness of the Hun. Though accustomed to a more refined, though perhaps not a better, state of society, they endeavoured to assume the manners of the nation among whom they dwelt; and the mixture thus produced was both painful and disgusting to the feelings of the young Roman, whose character was too decided in its nature ever to change by its contact with others, and possessed too much dignity to affect manners of any kind but those which sprang from his own heart, tutored as it had been from youth in habits of graceful ease.

In all the visits of this kind that he received, and they were many, a topic of conversation soon presented itself which acted as a touchstone upon the exiles. This was the comparative excellence of the Roman and barbarian mode of life. Almost every one broke forth on the first mention of such a subject into wild and vague praises of the simplicity, the freedom, the purity of the most unrestrained and uncivilized nation into whose arms either fortune or folly had driven them; and all the commonplaces against luxury and effeminacy had been conned and noted down to justify as a choice that which was in fact a necessity--their abode among the Huns. But Theodore thought differently, and he expressed strongly his opinion.

No man hated more effeminacy, no one more despised sensual luxury; but he thought that refined manners and refined taste might exist with virtue, purity, even simplicity; and he thought, also, that as the most precious substances, the hardest metals, and the brightest stones take the finest polish, so the most generous heart, the firmest and the most exalted mind, are those most capable of receiving the highest degree of civilization. At all events, he felt sure that no one who had tasted the refinements of cultivated life could lose their taste for what was graceful and elegant; and that if, from any hatred of the vices or follies which had crept into a decaying empire, they fled to a more simple and less corrupted state, they would still prize highly, and maintain in themselves that noble suavity, that generous urbanity, which springs from the feelings of a kind, a self-possessed, and a dignified mind.

These opinions, as I have said, he did not scruple to express boldly and distinctly; and he soon found that such notions, together with those he entertained regarding patriotism and the duty of every man towards his country, were not pleasant to the ears of his visiters. Some slunk away with feelings of shame, not altogether extinct in their bosoms. Some boldly scoffed at such prejudiced ideas; and only one or two, with calm expressions of regret, acknowledged that they felt as he did, and only lamented that injustice and oppression had driven them from the society in which they had been accustomed to dwell, and the refined pleasures which they were capable of enjoying, to the wilds of Dacia and the company of barbarians. With these Theodore would not have been unwilling to associate: but, ere he did so, he sought to see more of them, and to hear their history from other lips than their own; and, therefore, with a coldness of demeanour which was not natural to him, he received all advances from his fellow-countrymen.

Ellac, the son of Attila, he saw no more; and he was glad to be spared fresh collision with one who was evidently ill disposed towards him, and who was so dangerous an enemy. He strove not to avoid any one, however, but walked forth alone among the houses of the Huns with that fearless calmness which is generally its own safeguard. Still he saw, without choosing to remark it, that Cremera's apprehensions for his safety were greater than his own; and that, though he ventured not to remonstrate against any part of his master's behaviour, yet whenever the young Roman went forth on foot towards the close of the day to enjoy the calm hour of evening in that tranquil meditation with which it seems to sympathize, he caught a glance here and there of the tall, dusky form of the Arab following his footsteps with watchful care.

Sometimes the young Roman would ride out on horseback, followed by his attendants, to hunt in the neighbouring woods; and if any of the idler Huns followed their troop to join in the amusement or to share their game, the skill and activity which Theodore had acquired excited their wonder and admiration.

Early on the morning of the seventh day after his arrival at the residence of Attila he thus went forth, accompanied both by the Alani and the Huns who had been given to him, and rode along by the banks of Tibiscus to the wide deep woods which, at the distance of about five miles from the village, swept up from the river, and covered the sides, nearly to the top, of a lateral shoot of those high mountains which crossed the country to the eastward.

He followed the side of the river as closely as the nature of the ground permitted, even after he had entered the woods; for he knew that about that hour the stags and the elks, then so common in the Dacian and Pannonian forests, came down to drink at the larger streams, seeming to disdain the bright but pretty rivulets that sparkled down the sides of the mountains. He had heard, too, that such was the case with the urus, or wild bull; but the animal was scarce even in those northern solitudes, and he had not any personal knowledge of its habits.

Remarking the course of the stream when first he entered the wood, he ordered his attendants to spread out at some distance from himself, and drive the game towards the river, the banks of which he himself proposed to follow. Little appeared, however, and that of a kind not worthy of pursuit. A wolf, indeed, crossed his path, and, casting his javelin at it, he struck the grim robber of the fold down to the ground; but, shaking it quickly from his weapon, he passed on, and for near an hour followed the side of the stream, hearing from time to time the cries of his attendants, as they shouted, both to give notice to their companions of the course they were pursuing and to scare the game from the lair.