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.