This is the epithet that has been commonly given to Attila, king of the Huns, a man and a group of people who inspired terror and dread for centuries after their appearance in history. The name Attila is still part of our modern vocabulary, typically synonymous with one invincible, one capable of great acts of savagery, and one, above all, to be feared.
We continue to use the name in a variety of diverse contexts, such as describing monsters like Adolf Hitler and even running backs on a football field. In 1808, the German author Zacharias Werner, capitalizing on the general fascination with the name and what it evoked, wrote a drama loosely based on the events surrounding Attila’s invasion of Italy in 452 AD, and it was this play of historical fiction that formed the basis of Verdi’s ninth opera, Attila. Let us then distinguish fact from fancy in the opera, and, in a larger sense, examine the reasons why Attila and his Huns were so fearsome.
In the latter part of the fourth century, the Roman Empire maintained a tenuous hold over much of Europe. In the west, Roman territory included all lands west and south of the Rhine, as well as the territories of Spain and England. To the east, the empire governed all territory south of the Danube, all the way to the Black Sea. The areas north of these rivers, from Germany to the Ukraine, were ruled by various independent Teutonic tribes, called barbarians by the Romans. Chief among these were the Visigoths in the west and the Ostrogoths in the east.
While numerous conflicts had arisen between the barbarians and the Romans, these borders were relatively stable until roughly the year 370. At that time, the Huns invaded the Ukraine from the east. The place of their origin remains uncertain, but their impact was major. In the space of a few short years, they completely engulfed the powerful kingdom of the Ostrogoths. The Visigoths, in panic, fled across the Danube into Roman territory, eventually settling around Toulouse in southern France and thereby causing serious unrest in Roman Gaul.
In an age of extreme violence when massacres by Romans and barbarians alike were not uncommon, the universal dread inspired by the Huns from the very beginning was profound and can be attributed to a variety of factors. Foremost of these was their physical appearance. According to the Byzantine historian Priscus, who visited the camp of Attila:
…They put to flight men who are their equals in war by the terror of their looks, inspiring no little horror by their awful aspect and horribly swarthy appearance. They have a sort of shapeless lump for a face, if I may say so, and pinholes rather than eyes. Their wild appearance gives evidence to the hardihood of their spirits, and they are cruel even to their children on the first day they are born. They cut the cheeks of the males with a sword so that before they can first receive the nourishment of milk, they are compelled to endure a wound. Their youths are without good looks, particularly as their faces are furrowed by the scar they receive as a babe ... The men are somewhat short in stature, have broad shoulders, thickset necks, and are always erect and proud ... These men, in short, live in the form of humans but with the savagery of beasts.
Whether Priscus was exaggerating or not, there is no question that the Roman legionnaires were terrified by the sheer sight of the Huns, a fact reported by a number of different contemporary historians. Also contributing to this wild appearance was their clothing, which typically consisted, by design, of a motley collection of furs, the more tattered the better. Another factor that inspired dread was the simple fact that, for nearly 70 years, the Huns were practically invincible on the field of battle. Nomads who lived on horseback, their cavalry was unsurpassed in horsemanship and in its ability to maneuver. Their principal weapon was the compound bow, capable of accuracy at 100 yards and capable of penetrating whatever armor their opponents wore. As an indication of their ferocity in battle, the Romans once hired a band of 300 Huns to intercept several thousand Goths intent on raiding the Italian frontier. After a brief struggle, the Goths fled in disarray, leaving behind over 1,200 dead comrades to just 17 slain Huns. Finally, their overall policy can be summarized by three key practices: pillage, destruction, and indiscriminate slaughter. Wild but unfounded rumors further enhanced their reputation, such as the practice of cannibalism and a beverage of blood from the slain. Is it any wonder then that they terrified their adversaries, barbarian and Roman alike?
While wreaking havoc among the Goths, they did not at first invade Roman territory. In fact, they maintained peace with the Empire and even served as mercenaries against the Goths and other barbarians. The great Roman general Aetius (Ezio in the opera) was raised in the Hun camp as a hostage for the peace, and the friendships he made would later benefit the empire.
What led to the eventual outbreak of hostilities was the hastening decline of the Roman Empire. With the death of the emperor Theodosius I in 395, the empire was divided up between his two sons, with the Western Empire centered at Rome and the Eastern at Constantinople. Both sons were weak rulers and were in turn succeeded by even more ineffectual 32 offspring—Valentinian III in the west and Theodosius II in the east. Each surrounded themselves by rapacious courtiers and eunuchs.
Aetius, after disposing of a personal rival, rose in stature to become the leading general of the Western Empire and certainly proved to be the bulwark of Roman Gaul, supported by the alliances he maintained with the Huns. Indeed, for his ongoing defense of Gaul against a variety of different Teutonic tribes, he has been called the “Last of the Romans,” an epithet he also has in the opera. As stated above, the friendships he made as a hostage in the Hun camp led to treaties between the Western Empire and the Huns, and his defense of Gaul was primarily achieved by the use of Hunnic mercenaries.
The Eastern Empire, however, had no such favorable connection with the Huns, and the weak Theodosius was more concerned with revels and debauchery than with maintaining of firm military control of his borders. To maintain peace, he consented to send 350 pounds of gold as a yearly tribute to Rua, the de factoking of the Huns. In 434, Rua died and was succeeded by Attila and his brother Bieda, whom Attila would eventually murder in order to consolidate rulership of the Huns in his own person. Edward Gibbon, the renowned 18th-century historian and author of The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, has provided the most famous description of Attila, paraphrasing several Roman and Gothic sources:
[He] exhibits the genuine deformity of a modern Calmuck; a large head, a swarthy complexion, small deep-seated eyes, a flat nose, a few hairs in the place of a beard, broad shoulders, and a short square body, of nervous strength, though of a disproportionate form. The haughty step and demeanor of the king of the Huns expressed the consciousness of his superiority above the rest of mankind; and he had a custom of fiercely rolling his eyes, as if he wished to enjoy the terror which he inspired. Yet this savage hero was not inaccessible to pity; his suppliant enemies might confide in the assurance of peace or pardon; and Attila was considered by his subjects as a just and indulgent master. He delighted in war; but after he had ascended the throne in a mature age, his head, rather than his hand, achieved the conquest of the north; and the fame of an adventurous soldier was usefully exchanged for that of a prudent and successful general.
His first action in the year 434 was to double the annual tribute paid by the Eastern Empire. With peace in the quarter, he then focused his attention on subjugating all territory from the Caucasus to the Danube, a feat fully achieved by 439. In this same year, hostilities against the Eastern Empire arose, because Theodosius had refused to send the required tribute. Attila led his army on a massive invasion of the Eastern Empire in 441, in which numerous cities were sacked and razed to the ground, with the populace either slain in a frenzy of blood-letting, or led off into captivity.1 Two further invasions took place in 443 and 447. The historian Priscus provides us with a glimpse of the kind of destruction that took place with his description of the ruins of the great city of Naissus (known today as Yugoslavia’s Niš). Upon passing through the site of this former city six years after its fall, he reported only desolation and rubble. The banks along the Morava River were still covered with the sun-bleached bones of those slain there. Only the massive city walls saved Constantinople from a similar fate. In the words of a later Byzantine writer, “Attila ground almost the whole of Europe into the dust.” After 447, Theodosius had no choice but to agree to the terms set by Attila, which included an increased annual tribute of 2,100 pounds of gold and payment of all previously unpaid tribute. Why Valentinian and Aetius in the west did not come to the aid of the Eastern Empire remains a mystery. While peace followed for several years, renewed hostility was inevitable, not just in the east, but in the west as well. Attila’s dilemma was where to strike first. In 450, Theodosius died and was succeeded by a man of more martial spirit, who promptly terminated the yearly tribute. Without any army, however, such a move was thoughtless and would certainly have resulted in the complete destruction of the Eastern Empire, had Attila not already decided to march west.
Undoubtedly, the wealth of the Western Empire appealed to Attila. He knew the west would be more difficult to master than the Eastern Empire, but he knew he would be aided by several Teutonic tribes in Gaul who had invited him to come. The pretext for the invasion was furnished by Valentinian’s sister Honoria. The latter had apparently been amorously involved with her steward and had become pregnant by him. Valentinian, suspecting that Honoria and her lover aimed for the throne, had the steward immediately killed and married his sister off to an elderly senator. Chafing at this arrangement, Honoria sent a message to Attila, offering her hand in marriage. Attila informed Valentinian of his acceptance of Honoria’s offer and demanded half of the empire as dowry. Valentinian refused and the stage was set for war in the west.
In 451, Attila crossed the Rhine by the modern city of Metz and proceeded to ravage France. While laying siege to Orleans, Aetius suddenly appeared on the horizon with a combined force of Italians and Visigoths. Attila withdrew to the northeast, where a vast plain provided his cavalry with suitable room to maneuver. The ensuing battle of Chalons is said to have started at 9:00 AM and lasted all day, with the resulting carnage totaling some 165,000 killed on each side. Whatever the actual losses were, it was a stinging defeat for Attila, but not a victory for Aetius. The king of his Visigoth allies had been slain and the surviving Visigoths quit the battlefield the following day. Aetius was urged by his own men to attack again and destroy the Huns once and for all, but he allowed them to escape unmolested, perhaps in the hope that he could negotiate a new treaty with his former friends.
Such would not be the case, however, for Attila decided to try again the following year, 452, this time by crossing the Alps and marching directly upon Rome itself. Having crossed the Alps, the Huns descended on the plain of Venetia, whose chief city was Aquileia. Fortified by impressive walls, Aquileia had never been stormed nor forced to surrender. It was the key bastion that anchored the eastern defense of the empire. In the ensuing struggle about the walls, the Huns were beaten back and Attila is said to have intended to withdraw. Inspecting the walls one last time, however, he saw a family of storks take flight from the city with their young. Interpreting this as an omen portending the doom of the city, he resumed the assault with renewed vigor and succeeded in breaching the walls. Some people from the city escaped into the lagoons and islands toward the coast, but the greater part were either massacred or led off in captivity. The great city itself was so thoroughly razed to the ground that, less than 100 years later, no one knew where it formerly stood. This is where our opera begins, although various passages in it do refer to some of the preceding historical events.
Destruction, fire, and death befell city after city as the Huns continued westward. Eventually Milan was taken, but for some reason the city was spared destruction. A colorful story has survived in which Attila, surveying a mural depicting the emperors of the East and West seated on golden thrones before whom figures of Huns lay prostrate, forced a local artist to repaint the scene, with himself seated on a golden throne and the two emperors lying prostrate.
Aetius, in Gaul and without sufficient troops, chose not to contest Attila, leaving the latter with an open route to Rome. Valentinian, in turn, accused Aetius of abandoning Italy in order to establish a personal kingdom of his own in Gaul. Certainly, the pact in the opera, whereby Ezio offers Attila the universe if he himself can rule Italy, is pure fabrication. While the rest of Italy trembled at the anticipated attack, Attila did not march south. Popular legend attributes Attila’s decision to turn back as the result of an encounter with Pope Leo, a fanciful tale also portrayed in the opera. Leo did indeed travel north in an attempt to arrange a truce, but he was accompanied by two other secular officials, a former prefect, who had already negotiated with Attila on a previous occasion, and the ex-consul of 450, a man of great wealth. Unfortunately, the actual meeting between Attila and this embassy was not recorded. Legend has it that Attila, in complete awe of Leo and the God of the Romans, chose to withdraw rather than march on Rome. Modern historians find it unreasonable to consider that religion or superstition had anything to do with his withdrawal, for the Huns had razed numerous churches, raped nuns, and killed untold numbers of clergy in the past. The religion of the Empire had meant nothing to the Huns before and it is unlikely that it did on this occasion either. There is a sound military reason to explain the cessation of hostilities by Attila. Famine and pestilence had devastated Italy in the spring and summer of 451 and conditions had not improved. The land was exhausted and incapable of sustaining an enormous army with an even larger number of horses. His army had been seriously weakened the preceding year at Chalons; to continue further south would have invited disaster. Attila was shrewd and had frequently demonstrated a thorough knowledge of warfare. Surely he recognized the danger in continuing south. Quite likely the promise of tribute also influenced his decision.
At any rate, the Huns returned back to their capital across the Danube and Attila made it perfectly clear that the Eastern Empire would be his next target. A man with several hundred wives already, he was taken with yet another woman named Ildico, who might have been of German origin. A great celebration was held on the wedding night and he drank heavily before retiring to the nuptial chamber. Known to have been prone to nose bleeds, he apparently suffered a major bleed while asleep and suffocated. By the following afternoon, when no noise had been heard from within, the door was broken down and his body discovered beside his trembling bride. A careful examination of the corpse revealed no wounds or obvious signs of poison, and the Huns therefore concluded that he had not died from foul play. The fate of Ildico is uncertain, but she does not seem to have been harmed, although in later months rumors would circulate that she had murdered Attila. These rumors would also eventually work their way into the Nordic sagas, where the character Etzel (Attila) was said to have been slain by Kriemhild, his Burgundian bride, on their wedding night in revenge for the murder of her brothers.
Regarding the opera, Foresto, Uldino, and Odabella are fictitious, as is the plot of the latter part of the opera; the Huns were not defeated by the Romans in Italy, nor was Attila slain by Italian conspirators. Ezio is a distortion of the historical Aetius. The encounter between Attila and Leo is drawn from popular legend. This fiction, however, served Verdi’s purpose well. Foresto and the survivors of Aquileia represent the future founders of Venice, where the opera would receive its premiere. More importantly, the overall theme deals with Italian patriotism and the crushing defeat of northern invaders from the Danube, a thinly disguised call to arms for Italians to drive out their contemporary Austro-Hungarian overlords from Italy.
As an epilogue, the Hun Empire, which, at its zenith under Attila, extended from the Ukraine to eastern France, collapsed shortly after his death. The dominions of the Hun were divided up among his sons, who then feuded with each other. The long oppressed Teutonic tribes, taking advantage of the lack of unity among their oppressors, soon rose up in revolt and destroyed their antagonists. Those Huns who escaped fled back to the east, although one tribe found service under the new emperor of the Eastern Empire. Aetius, who for several decades was the sole person responsible for preserving the Western Empire for his emperor, met an end in 455 not unlike that of Julius Caesar. While engaged in a discussion with Valentinian, the emperor drew forth a sword and plunged it into the chest of his general, an act that was imitated by some 100 of his courtiers and eunuchs. Valentinian, in turn, was murdered a short time later by two barbarians who had been devoted to Aetius. The Western Empire would come to an end 21 years later, in 476. Conversely, the Eastern Empire would eventually be revived under Justinian and survive for centuries to come.
Malcolm Mosher, Jr., is a historian, lecturer, and writer as well as a software designer. This article appeared in a previous edition of San Francisco Opera Magazine.
1 Priscus encountered one former captive in the Hun camp who had earned his freedom on the battlefield and preferred the society of the Huns to that of the Romans.