It would have been strange, indeed, if Theodosius had purchased, by the

loss of honor, a secure and solid tranquillity, or if his tameness had

not invited the repetition of injuries. The Byzantine court was insulted

by five or six successive embassies, and the ministers of Attila were

uniformly instructed to press the tardy or imperfect execution of the

last treaty; to produce the names of fugitives and deserters, who were

still protected by the Empire; and to declare, with seeming moderation,

that, unless their sovereign obtained complete and immediate

satisfaction, it would be impossible for him, were it even his wish, to

check the resentment of his warlike tribes. Besides the motives of pride

and interest, which might prompt the King of the Huns to continue this

train of negotiation, he was influenced by the less honorable view of

enriching his favorites at the expense of his enemies. The imperial

treasury was exhausted to procure the friendly offices of the

ambassadors and their principal attendants, whose favorable report might

conduce to the maintenance of peace.

The Barbarian monarch was flattered by the liberal reception of his

ministers; he computed, with pleasure, the value and splendor of their

gifts, rigorously exacted the performance of every promise which would

contribute to their private emolument, and treated as an important

business of state the marriage of his secretary Constantius. That Gallic

adventurer, who was recommended by Aetius to the King of the Huns, had

engaged his service to the ministers of Constantinople, for the

stipulated reward of a wealthy and noble wife; and the daughter of Count

Saturninus was chosen to discharge the obligations of her country. The

reluctance of the victim, some domestic troubles, and the unjust

confiscation of her fortune cooled the ardor of her interested lover;

but he still demanded, in the name of Attila, an equivalent alliance;

and, after many ambiguous delays and excuses, the Byzantine court was

compelled to sacrifice to this insolent stranger the widow of Armatius,

whose birth, opulence, and beauty placed her in the most illustrious

rank of the Roman matrons.

For these importunate and oppressive embassies Attila claimed a suitable

return: he weighed, with suspicious pride, the character and station of

the imperial envoys; but he condescended to promise that he would

advance as far as Sardica to receive any ministers who had been invested

with the consular dignity. The council of Theodosius eluded this

proposal, by representing the desolate and ruined condition of Sardica,

and even ventured to insinuate that every officer of the army or

household was qualified to treat with the most powerful princes of

Scythia. Maximin, a respectable courtier, whose abilities had been long

exercised in civil and military employments, accepted, with reluctance,

the troublesome, and perhaps dangerous, commission of reconciling the

angry spirit of the King of the Huns.

His friend, the historian Priscus, embraced the opportunity of observing

the Barbarian hero in the peaceful and domestic scenes of life: but the

secret of the embassy, a fatal and guilty secret, was intrusted only to

the interpreter Vigilius. The two last ambassadors of the Huns, Orestes,

a noble subject of the Pannonian province, and Edecon, a valiant

chieftain of the tribe of the Scyrri, returned at the same time from

Constantinople to the royal camp. Their obscure names were afterward

illustrated by the extraordinary fortune and the contrast of their sons:

the two servants of Attila became the fathers of the last Roman Emperor

of the West, and of the first Barbarian King of Italy.

The ambassadors, who were followed by a numerous train of men and

horses, made their first halt at Sardica, at the distance of three

hundred and fifty miles, or thirteen days' journey, from Constantinople.

As the remains of Sardica were still included within the limits of the

Empire, it was incumbent on the Romans to exercise the duties of

hospitality. They provided, with the assistance of the provincials, a

sufficient number of sheep and oxen, and invited the Huns to a splendid,

or, at least, a plentiful supper. But the harmony of the entertainment

was soon disturbed by mutual prejudice and indiscretion. The greatness

of the Emperor and the empire was warmly maintained by their ministers;

the Huns, with equal ardor, asserted the superiority of their victorious

monarch: the dispute was inflamed by the rash and unseasonable flattery

of Vigilius, who passionately rejected the comparison of a mere mortal

with the divine Theodosius; and it was with extreme difficulty that

Maximin and Priscus were able to divert the conversation, or to soothe

the angry minds, of the Barbarians. When they rose from the table, the

Imperial ambassador presented Edecon and Orestes with rich gifts of silk

robes and Indian pearls, which they thankfully accepted.

Yet Orestes could not forbear insinuating that _he_ had not always been

treated with such respect and liberality; and the offensive distinction

which was implied, between his civil office and the hereditary rank of

his colleague seems to have made Edecon a doubtful friend and Orestes an

irreconcilable enemy. After this entertainment they travelled about one

hundred miles from Sardica to Naissus. That flourishing city, which had

given birth to the great Constantine, was levelled with the ground; the

inhabitants were destroyed or dispersed; and the appearance of some sick

persons, who were still permitted to exist among the ruins of the

churches, served only to increase the horror of the prospect. The

surface of the country was covered with the bones of the slain; and the

ambassadors, who directed their course to the northwest, were obliged to

pass the hills of modern Servia before they descended into the flat and

marshy grounds which are terminated by the Danube.

The Huns were masters of the great river: their navigation was performed

in large canoes, hollowed out of the trunk of a single tree; the

ministers of Theodosius were safely landed on the opposite bank; and

their Barbarian associates immediately hastened to the camp of Attila,

which was equally prepared for the amusements of hunting or of war. No

sooner had Maximin advanced about two miles from the Danube than he

began to experience the fastidious insolence of the conqueror. He was

sternly forbidden to pitch his tents in a pleasant valley, lest he

should infringe the distant awe that was due to the royal mansion. The

ministers of Attila pressed him to communicate the business, and the

instructions, which he reserved for the ear of their sovereign. When

Maximin temperately urged the contrary practice of nations, he was still

more confounded to find that the resolutions of the Sacred Consistory,

those secrets (says Priscus) which should not be revealed to the gods

themselves, had been treacherously disclosed to the public enemy. On his

refusal to comply with such ignominious terms, the Imperial envoy was

commanded instantly to depart; the order was recalled; it was again

repeated; and the Huns renewed their ineffectual attempts to subdue the

patient firmness of Maximin.

At length, by the intercession of Scotta, the brother of Onegesius,

whose friendship had been purchased by a liberal gift, he was admitted

to the royal presence; but, instead of obtaining a decisive answer, he

was compelled to undertake a remote journey toward the north, that

Attila might enjoy the proud satisfaction of receiving, in the same

camp, the ambassadors of the Eastern and Western empires. His journey

was regulated by the guides, who obliged him to halt, to hasten his

march, or to deviate from the common road, as it best suited the

convenience of the King. The Romans, who traversed the plains of

Hungary, suppose that they passed _several_ navigable rivers, either in

canoes or portable boats; but there is reason to suspect that the

winding stream of the Teyss, or Tibiscus, might present itself in

different places under different names.

From the contiguous villages they received a plentiful and regular

supply of provisions; mead instead of wine, millet in the place of

bread, and a certain liquor named _camus_, which, according to the

report of Priscus, was distilled from barley.[21] Such fare might appear

coarse and indelicate to men who had tasted the luxury of

Constantinople; but, in their accidental distress, they were relieved by

the gentleness and hospitality of the same Barbarians, so terrible and

so merciless in war. The ambassadors had encamped on the edge of a large

morass. A violent tempest of wind and rain, of thunder and lightning,

overturned their tents, immersed their baggage and furniture in the

water, and scattered their retinue, who wandered in the darkness of the

night, uncertain of their road, and apprehensive of some unknown danger,

till they awakened by their cries the inhabitants of a neighboring

village, the property of the widow of Bleda. A bright illumination, and,

in a few moments, a comfortable fire of reeds, was kindled by their

officious benevolence; the wants, and even the desires, of the Romans

were liberally satisfied; and they seem to have been embarrassed by the

singular politeness of Bleda's widow, who added to her other favors the

gift, or at least the loan, of a sufficient number of beautiful and

obsequious damsels.

The sunshine of the succeeding day was dedicated to repose, to collect

and dry the baggage, and to the refreshment of the men and horses; but,

in the evening, before they pursued their journey, the ambassadors

expressed their gratitude to the bounteous lady of the village, by a

very acceptable present of silver cups, red fleeces, dried fruits, and

Indian pepper. Soon after this adventure, they rejoined the march of

Attila, from whom they had been separated about six days, and slowly

proceeded to the capital of an empire, which did not contain, in the

space of several thousand miles, a single city.

As far as we may ascertain the vague and obscure geography of Priscus,

this capital appears to have been seated between the Danube, the Teyss,

and the Carpathian hills, in the plains of Upper Hungary, and most

probably in the neighborhood of Jezberin, Agria, or Tokay. In its origin

it could be no more than an accidental camp, which, by the long and

frequent residence of Attila, had insensibly swelled into a huge

village, for the reception of his court, of the troops who followed his

person, and of the various multitude of idle or industrious slaves and

retainers. The baths, constructed by Onegesius, were the only edifice of

stone; the materials had been transported from Pannonia; and since the

adjacent country was destitute even of large timber, it may be presumed

that the meaner habitations of the royal village consisted of straw, or

mud, or of canvas. The wooden houses of the more illustrious Huns were

built and adorned with rude magnificence, according to the rank, the

fortune, or the taste of the proprietors. They seemed to have been

distributed with some degree of order and symmetry; and each spot

became more honorable as it approached the person of the sovereign.

The palace of Attila, which surpassed all other houses in his dominions,

was built entirely of wood, and covered an ample space of ground. The

outward enclosure was a lofty wall, or palisade, of smooth square

timber, intersected with high towers, but intended rather for ornament

than defence. This wall, which seems to have encircled the declivity of

the hill, comprehended a great variety of wooden edifices, adapted to

the uses of royalty. A separate house was assigned to each of the

numerous wives of Attila; and, instead of the rigid and illiberal

confinement imposed by Asiatic jealousy, they politely admitted the

Roman ambassadors to their presence, their table, and even to the

freedom of an innocent embrace. When Maximin offered his presents to

Cerce, the principal Queen, he admired the singular architecture of her

mansion, the height of the round columns, the size and beauty of the

wood, which was curiously shaped or turned, or polished or carved; and

his attentive eye was able to discover some taste in the ornaments and

some regularity in the proportions.

After passing through the guards, who watched before the gate, the

ambassadors were introduced into the private apartment of Cerce. The

wife of Attila received their visit sitting, or rather lying, on a soft

couch; the floor was covered with a carpet; the domestics formed a

circle round the Queen; and her damsels, seated on the ground, where

employed in working the variegated embroidery which adorned the dress of

the Barbaric warriors. The Huns were ambitious of displaying those

riches which were the fruit and evidence of their victories; the

trappings of their horses, their swords, and even their shoes were

studded with gold and precious stones; and their tables were profusely

spread with plates, and goblets, and vases of gold and silver, which had

been fashioned by the labor of Grecian artists. The monarch alone

assumed the superior pride of still adhering to the simplicity of his

Scythian ancestors. The dress of Attila, his arms, and the furniture of

his horse were plain, without ornament, and of a single color. The royal

table was served in wooden cups and platters; flesh was his only food;

and the conqueror of the North never tasted the luxury of bread.

When Attila first gave audience to the Roman ambassadors on the banks

of the Danube, his tent was encompassed with a formidable guard. The

monarch himself was seated in a wooden chair. His stern countenance,

angry gestures, and impatient tone, astonished the firmness of Maximin;

but Vigilius had more reason to tremble, since he distinctly understood

the menace, that if Attila did not respect the law of nations, he would

nail the deceitful interpreter to the cross, and leave his body to the

vultures. The Barbarian condescended, by producing an accurate list, to

expose the bold falsehood of Vigilius, who had affirmed that no more

than seventeen deserters could be found. But he arrogantly declared that

he apprehended only the disgrace of contending with his fugitive slaves;

since he despised their impotent efforts to defend the provinces which

Theodosius had intrusted to their arms: "For what fortress," added

Attila, "what city, in the wide extent of the Roman Empire, can hope to

exist, secure and impregnable, if it is our pleasure that it should be

erased from the earth?"

He dismissed, however, the interpreter, who returned to Constantinople

with his peremptory demand of more complete restitution and a more

splendid embassy. His anger gradually subsided, and his domestic

satisfaction in a marriage which he celebrated on the road with the

daughter of Eslam, might perhaps contribute to mollify the native

fierceness of his temper. The entrance of Attila into the royal village

was marked by a very singular ceremony. A numerous troop of women came

out to meet their hero and their King. They marched before him,

distributed into long and regular files; the intervals between the files

were filled by white veils of thin linen, which the women on either side

bore aloft in their hands, and which formed a canopy for a chorus of

young virgins, who chanted hymns and songs in the Scythian language. The

wife of his favorite Onegesius, with a train of female attendants,

saluted Attila at the door of her own house, on his way to the palace;

and offered, according to the custom of the country, her respectful

homage, by entreating him to taste the wine and meat which she had

prepared for his reception. As soon as the monarch had graciously

accepted her hospitable gift, his domestics lifted a small silver table

to a convenient height, as he sat on horseback; and Attila, when he had

touched the goblet with his lips, again saluted the wife of Onegesius,

and continued his march.

During his residence at the seat of empire, his hours were not wasted in

the recluse idleness of a seraglio; and the King of the Huns could

maintain his superior dignity, without concealing his person from the

public view. He frequently assembled his council, and gave audience to

the ambassadors of the nations; and his people might appeal to the

supreme tribunal, which he held at stated times, and, according to the

Eastern custom, before the principal gate of his wooden palace. The

Romans, both of the East and of the West, were twice invited to the

banquets, where Attila feasted with the princes and nobles of Scythia.

Maximin and his colleagues were stopped on the threshold, till they had

made a devout libation to the health and prosperity of the King of the

Huns, and were conducted, after this ceremony, to their respective seats

in a spacious hall. The royal table and couch, covered with carpets and

fine linen, was raised by several steps in the midst of the hall; and a

son, an uncle, or perhaps a favorite king were admitted to share the

simple and homely repast of Attila.

Two lines of small tables, each of which contained three or four guests,

were ranged in order on either hand; the right was esteemed the most

honorable, but the Romans ingenuously confess that they were placed on

the left; and that Beric, an unknown chieftain, most probably of the

Gothic race, preceded the representatives of Theodosius and Valentinian.

The Barbarian monarch received from his cup-bearer a goblet filled with

wine, and courteously drank to the health of the most distinguished

guest, who rose from his seat and expressed in the same manner his loyal

and respectful vows. This ceremony was successively performed for all,

or at least, for the illustrious persons of the assembly; and a

considerable time must have been consumed, since it was thrice repeated

as each course or service was placed on the table. But the wine still

remained after the meat had been removed; and the Huns continued to

indulge their intemperance long after the sober and decent ambassadors

of the two empires had withdrawn themselves from the nocturnal banquet.

Yet before they retired, they enjoyed a singular opportunity of

observing the manners of the nation in their convivial amusements. Two

Scythians stood before the couch of Attila, and recited the verses which

they had composed, to celebrate his valor and his victories.

A profound silence prevailed in the hall; and the attention of the

guests was captivated by the vocal harmony, which revived and

perpetuated the memory of their own exploits; a martial ardor flashed

from the eyes of the warriors, who were impatient for battle; and the

tears of the old men expressed their generous despair, that they could

no longer partake the danger and glory of the field. This entertainment,

which might be considered as a school of military virtue, was succeeded

by a farce, that debased the dignity of human nature. A Moorish and a

Scythian buffoon successively excited the mirth of the rude spectators,

by their deformed figure, ridiculous dress, antic gestures, absurd

speeches, and the strange, unintelligible confusion of the Latin, the

Gothic, and the Hunnic languages; and the hall resounded with loud and

licentious peals of laughter. In the midst of this intemperate riot,

Attila alone, without a change of countenance, maintained his steadfast

and inflexible gravity; which was never relaxed, except on the entrance

of Irnac, the youngest of his sons: he embraced the boy with a smile of

paternal tenderness, gently pinched him by the cheek, and betrayed a

partial affection, which was justified by the assurance of his prophets

that Irnac would be the future support of his family and empire.

Two days afterward, the ambassadors received a second invitation: and

they had reason to praise the politeness, as well as the hospitality, of

Attila. The King of the Huns held a long and familiar conversation with

Maximin; but his civility was interrupted by rude expressions and

haughty reproaches; and he was provoked, by a motive of interest, to

support, with unbecoming zeal, the private claims of his secretary

Constantius. "The Emperor," said Attila, "has long promised him a rich

wife: Constantius must not be disappointed; nor should a Roman emperor

deserve the name of liar." On the third day the ambassadors were

dismissed: the freedom of several captives was granted, for a moderate

ransom, to their pressing entreaties; and, besides the royal presents,

they were permitted to accept from each of the Scythian nobles the

honorable and useful gift of a horse. Maximin returned, by the same

road, to Constantinople; and though he was involved in an accidental

dispute with Beric, the new ambassador of Attila, he flattered himself

that he had contributed, by the laborious journey, to confirm the peace

and alliance of the two nations.[22]

But the Roman ambassador was ignorant of the treacherous design which

had been concealed under the mask of the public faith. The surprise and

satisfaction of Edecon, when he contemplated the splendor of

Constantinople, had encouraged the interpreter Vigilius to procure for

him a secret interview with the eunuch Chrysaphius,[23] who governed the

Emperor and the empire. After some previous conversation, and a mutual

oath of secrecy, the eunuch, who had not from his own feelings or

experience imbibed any exalted notions of ministerial virtue, ventured

to propose the death of Attila as an important service, by which Edecon

might deserve a liberal share of the wealth and luxury which he admired.

The ambassador of the Huns listened to the tempting offer; and

professed, with apparent zeal, his ability, as well as readiness, to

execute the bloody deed: the design was communicated to the master of

the offices, and the devout Theodosius consented to the assassination of

his invincible enemy. But this perfidious conspiracy was defeated by the

dissimulation, or the repentance, of Edecon; and though he might

exaggerate his inward abhorrence for the treason, which he seemed to

approve, he dexterously assumed the merit of an early and voluntary

confession.

If we _now_ review the embassy of Maximin and the behavior of Attila, we

must applaud the Barbarian, who respected the laws of hospitality, and

generously entertained and dismissed the minister of a prince who had

conspired against his life. But the rashness of Vigilius will appear

still more extraordinary, since he returned, conscious of his guilt and

danger, to the royal camp, accompanied by his son, and carrying with him

a weighty purse of gold, which the favorite eunuch had furnished, to

satisfy the demands of Edecon and to corrupt the fidelity of the guards.

The interpreter was instantly seized, and dragged before the tribunal of

Attila, where he asserted his innocence with specious firmness, till the

threat of inflicting instant death on his son extorted from him a

sincere discovery of the criminal transaction. Under the name of ransom,

or confiscation, the rapacious King of the Huns accepted two hundred

pounds of gold for the life of a traitor whom he disdained to punish. He

pointed his just indignation against a nobler object. His ambassadors,

Eslaw and Orestes, were immediately despatched to Constantinople, with a

peremptory instruction, which it was much safer for them to execute than

to disobey.

They boldly entered the Imperial presence, with the fatal purse hanging

down from the neck of Orestes, who interrogated the eunuch Chrysaphius,

as he stood beside the throne, whether he recognized the evidence of his

guilt. But the office of reproof was reserved for the superior dignity

of his colleague, Eslaw, who gravely addressed the Emperor of the East

in the following words: "Theodosius is the son of an illustrious and

respectable parent: Attila likewise is descended from a noble race; and

_he_ has supported, by his actions, the dignity which he inherited from

his father Mundzuk. But Theodosius has forfeited his paternal honors,

and, by consenting to pay tribute, has degraded himself to the condition

of a slave. It is therefore just, that he should reverence the man whom

fortune and merit have placed above him, instead of attempting, like a

wicked slave, clandestinely to conspire against his master." The son of

Arcadius, who was accustomed only to the voice of flattery, heard with

astonishment the severe language of truth: he blushed and trembled, nor

did he presume directly to refuse the head of Chrysaphius, which Eslaw

and Orestes were instructed to demand.

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