CHAPTER XLVI. THE HUNS AND THE VANDALS

During a long and disgraceful reign of twenty-eight years, Honorius,

emperor of the West, was separated from the friendship of his

brother, and afterwards of his nephew, who reigned over the East; and

Constantinople beheld, with apparent indifference and secret joy, the

calamities of Rome. The strange adventures of Placidia gradually renewed

and cemented the alliance of the two empires. The daughter of the great

Theodosius had been the captive and the queen of the Goths; she lost

an affectionate husband, she was dragged in chains by his insulting

assassin, she tasted the pleasure of revenge, and was exchanged in the

treaty of peace, for six hundred thousand measures of wheat.

After her return from Spain to Italy, Placidia experienced a new

persecution in the bosom of her family. She was averse to a marriage

which had been stipulated without her consent; and the brave Constantius,

as a noble reward for the tyrants whom he had vanquished, received from

the hand of Honorius himself the struggling and reluctant hand of the

widow of Atawulf. But her resistance ended with the ceremony of the

nuptials; nor did Placidia refuse to become the mother of Honoria and

Valentinian III or to assume and exercise an absolute dominion over

the mind of her grateful husband. The generous soldier, whose time had

hitherto been divided between social pleasure and military service, was

taught new lessons of avarice and ambition. He extorted the title of

Augustus; and the servant of Honorius was associated to the empire of

the West. The death of Constantius, in the seventh month of his reign,

instead of diminishing, seemed to increase the power of Placidia. On a

sudden, by some base intrigues the city of Ravenna was agitated with

bloody and dangerous tumults, which could only be appeased by the forced

or voluntary retreat of Placidia and her children.

The royal exiles landed at Constantinople, soon after the marriage of

Theodosius, during the festival of the Persian victories. They were

treated with kindness and magnificence; but as the statues of the emperor

Constantius had been rejected by the Eastern court, the title of Augusta

could not decently be allowed to his widow. Within a few months after the

arrival of Placidia, a swift messenger announced the death of Honorius,

the consequence of a dropsy; but the important secret was not divulged

till the necessary orders had been despatched for the march of a large

body of troops to the seacoast of Dalmatia. The shops and the gates of

Constantinople remained shut during seven days; and the loss of a foreign

prince, who could neither be esteemed nor regretted, was celebrated with

loud and affected demonstrations of the public grief.

[Sidenote: [423-424 A.D.]]

While the ministers of Constantinople deliberated, the vacant throne

of Honorius was usurped by the ambition of a stranger. The name of the

rebel was Joannes. He filled the confidential office of _primicerius_,

or principal secretary; and history has attributed to his character

more virtues than can easily be reconciled with the violation of the

most sacred duty. Elated by the submission of Italy, and the hope of an

alliance with the Huns, Joannes presumed to insult, by an embassy, the

majesty of the Eastern emperor; but when he understood that his agents

had been banished, imprisoned, and at length chased away with deserved

ignominy, Joannes prepared to assert by arms the injustice of his claims.

In such a cause, the grandson of the great Theodosius should have marched

in person; but the young emperor was easily diverted by his physicians

from so rash and hazardous a design, and the conduct of the Italian

expedition was prudently entrusted to Ardaburius and his son Aspar, who

had already signalised their valour against the Persians. It was resolved

that Ardaburius should embark with the infantry, whilst Aspar, at the

head of the cavalry, conducted Placidia and her son Valentinian along

the seacoast of the Adriatic. The march of the cavalry was performed

with such active diligence that they surprised, without resistance, the

important city of Aquileia; when the hopes of Aspar were unexpectedly

confounded by the intelligence that a storm had dispersed the imperial

fleet; and that his father, with only two galleys, was taken and carried

a prisoner into the port of Ravenna. Yet this incident, unfortunate as it

might seem, facilitated the conquest of Italy. Ardaburius employed, or

abused, the courteous freedom which he was permitted to enjoy, to revive

among the troops a sense of loyalty and gratitude; and as soon as the

conspiracy was ripe for execution, he invited by private messages and

pressed the approach of Aspar. A shepherd, whom the popular credulity

transformed into an angel, guided the Eastern cavalry, by a secret and,

it was thought, an impassable road through the morasses of the Padus

(Po); the gates of Ravenna, after a short struggle, were thrown open;

and the defenceless tyrant was delivered to the mercy, or rather to the

cruelty, of the conquerors. His right hand was first cut off; and, after

he had been exposed, mounted on an ass, to the public derision, Joannes

was beheaded in the circus of Aquileia.

In a monarchy which, according to various precedents, might be considered

as elective, or hereditary, or patrimonial, it was impossible that the

intricate claims of female and collateral succession should be clearly

defined; and Theodosius, by the right of consanguinity or conquest,

might have reigned the sole legitimate emperor of the Romans. For a

moment, perhaps, his eyes were dazzled by the prospect of unbounded

sway; but his indolent temper gradually acquiesced in the dictates of

sound policy. He contented himself with the possession of the East;

and wisely relinquished the laborious task of waging a distant and

doubtful war against the barbarians beyond the Alps; or of securing the

obedience of the Italians and Africans, whose minds were alienated by the

irreconcilable difference of language and interest.

[Sidenote: [424-427 A.D.]]

Instead of listening to the voice of ambition, Theodosius resolved

to imitate the moderation of his grandfather, and to seat his

cousin Valentinian on the throne of the West. The royal infant was

distinguished at Constantinople by the title of _nobilissimus_: he was

promoted, before his departure from Thessalonica, to the rank and dignity

of Cæsar; and, after the conquest of Italy, the patrician Helion, by

the authority of Theodosius and in the presence of the senate, saluted

Valentinian III by the name of Augustus, and solemnly invested him

with the diadem and the imperial purple. By the agreement of the three

females who governed the Roman world, the son of Placidia was betrothed

to Eudoxia, the daughter of Theodosius and Athenais; and, as soon as the

lover and his bride had attained the age of puberty, this honourable

alliance was faithfully accomplished. At the same time, as a compensation

perhaps for the expenses of the war, the western Illyricum was detached

from the Italian dominions and yielded to the throne of Constantinople.

[Illustration: A HUN

(From a painting)]

The emperor of the East acquired the useful dominion of the rich and

maritime province of Dalmatia, and the dangerous sovereignty of Pannonia

and Noricum, which had been filled and ravaged above twenty years by a

promiscuous crowd of Huns, Ostrogoths, Vandals, and Bavarians. Theodosius

and Valentinian continued to respect the obligations of their public and

domestic alliance; but the unity of the Roman government was finally

dissolved. By a positive declaration, the validity of all future laws

was limited to the dominions of their peculiar author; unless he should

think proper to communicate them, subscribed with his own hand, for the

approbation of his independent colleague.

Valentinian, when he received the title of Augustus, was no more than

six years of age; and his long minority was intrusted to the guardian

care of a mother, who might assert a female claim to the succession

of the Western Empire. Placidia envied, but she could not equal, the

reputation and virtues of the wife and sister of Theodosius, the elegant

genius of Eudocia, the wise and successful policy of Pulcheria. The

mother of Valentinian was jealous of the power which she was incapable

of exercising. She reigned twenty-five years, in the name of her son;

and the character of that unworthy emperor gradually countenanced the

suspicion that Placidia had enervated his youth by a dissolute education,

and studiously diverted his attention from every manly and honourable

pursuit. Amidst the decay of military spirit her armies were commanded

by two generals, Aëtius and Boniface, who may be deservedly named as the

last of the Romans. Their union might have supported a sinking empire;

their discord was the fatal and immediate cause of the loss of Africa.

The invasion and defeat of Attila have immortalised the fame of Aëtius;

and though time has thrown a shade over the exploits of his rival, the

defence of Marseilles and the deliverance of Africa attest the military

talents of Count Boniface.

The abilities of Aëtius and Boniface might have been usefully employed

against the public enemies, in separate and important commands; but the

experience of their past conduct should have decided the real favour

and confidence of the empress Placidia. In the melancholy season of

her exile and distress, Boniface alone had maintained her cause with

unshaken fidelity; and the troops and treasures of Africa had essentially

contributed to extinguish the rebellion. The same rebellion had been

supported by the zeal and activity of Aëtius, who brought an army of

sixty thousand Huns from the Danube to the confines of Italy, for the

service of the usurper. The untimely death of Joannes compelled him to

accept an advantageous treaty; but he still continued, the subject and

the soldier of Valentinian, to entertain a secret, perhaps a treasonable

correspondence with his barbarian allies, whose retreat had been

purchased by liberal gifts and more liberal promises.

But Aëtius possessed an advantage of singular moment in a female reign;

he was present; he besieged, with artful and assiduous flattery, the

palace of Ravenna; disguised his dark designs with the mask of loyalty

and friendship; and at length deceived both his mistress and his absent

rival by a subtle conspiracy which a weak woman and a brave man could

not easily suspect. He secretly persuaded Placidia to recall Boniface

from the government of Africa; he secretly advised Boniface to disobey

the imperial summons. To the one he represented the order as a sentence

of death, to the other he stated the refusal as a signal of revolt; and

when the credulous and unsuspecting count had armed the province in his

defence, Aëtius applauded his sagacity in foreseeing the rebellion which

his own perfidy had excited.

A temperate inquiry into the real motives of Boniface would have restored

a faithful servant to his duty and to the republic; but the arts of

Aëtius still continued to betray and to inflame, and the count was urged,

by persecution, to embrace the most desperate counsels. The success with

which he eluded or repelled the first attacks could not inspire a vain

confidence that, at the head of some loose, disorderly Africans, he

should be able to withstand the regular forces of the West, commanded by

a rival whose military character it was impossible for him to despise.

After some hesitation, the last struggles of prudence and loyalty,

Boniface despatched a trusty friend to the court, or rather to the camp,

of Gonderic, king of the Vandals, with the proposal of a strict alliance

and the offer of an advantageous and perpetual settlement.

[Sidenote: [427-429 A.D.]]

The experience of navigation, and perhaps the prospect of Africa,

encouraged the Vandals to accept the invitation which they received from

Count Boniface; and the death of Gonderic served only to forward and

animate the bold enterprise. In the room of a prince not conspicuous

for any superior powers of the mind or body, they acquired his bastard

brother, the terrible Genseric, a name which, in the destruction of

the Roman Empire, has deserved an equal rank with the names of Alaric

and Attila. The king of the Vandals is described to have been of a

middle stature, with a lameness in one leg, which he had contracted by

an accidental fall from his horse. His slow and cautious speech seldom

declared the deep purposes of his soul; he disdained to imitate the

luxury of the vanquished, but he indulged the sterner passions of anger

and revenge.

The ambition of Genseric was without bounds and without scruples; and the

warrior could dexterously employ the dark engines of policy to solicit

the allies who might be useful to his success, or to scatter among his

enemies the seeds of hatred and contention. Almost in the moment of his

departure he was informed that Hermanric, king of the Suevi, had presumed

to ravage the Spanish territories, which he was resolved to abandon.

Impatient of the insult, Genseric pursued the hasty retreat of the Suevi

as far as Augusta Emerita (Merida); precipitated the king and his army

into the river Anas, and calmly returned to the seashore to embark his

victorious troops. The vessels which transported the Vandals over the

modern straits of Gibraltar, a channel only twelve miles in breadth, were

furnished by the Spaniards, who anxiously wished their departure, and by

the African general, who had implored their formidable assistance.

Our fancy, so long accustomed to exaggerate and multiply the martial

swarms of barbarians that seemed to issue from the north, will perhaps

be surprised by the account of the army which Genseric mustered on the

coast of Mauretania. The Vandals, who in twenty years had penetrated from

the Elbe to Mount Atlas, were united under the command of their warlike

king; and he reigned with equal authority over the Alani, who had passed,

within the term of human life, from the cold of Scythia to the excessive

heat of an African climate. The hopes of the bold enterprise had

excited many brave adventurers of the Gothic nation; and many desperate

provincials were tempted to repair their fortunes by the same means which

had occasioned their ruin.

Yet this various multitude amounted only to fifty thousand effective

men; and though Genseric artfully magnified his apparent strength

by appointing eighty _chiliarchs_, or commanders of thousands, the

fallacious increase of old men, of children, and of slaves would scarcely

have swelled his army to fourscore thousand persons. But his own

dexterity and the discontents of Africa soon fortified the Vandal powers

by the accession of numerous and active allies. The parts of Mauretania

which border on the great desert and the Atlantic Ocean were filled

with a fierce and untractable race of men, whose savage temper had been

exasperated, rather than reclaimed, by their dread of the Roman arms.

The wandering Moors, as they gradually ventured to approach the

seashore and the camp of the Vandals, must have viewed with terror and

astonishment the dress, the armour, the martial pride and discipline

of the unknown strangers who had landed on their coast; and the fair

complexions of the blue-eyed warriors of Germany formed a very singular

contrast with the swarthy or olive hue which is derived from the

neighbourhood of the torrid zone. After the first difficulties had in

some measure been removed, which arose from the mutual ignorance of their

respective languages, the Moors, regardless of any future consequence,

embraced the alliance of the enemies of Rome; and a crowd of naked

savages rushed from the woods and valleys of Mount Atlas, to satiate

their revenge on the polished tyrants who had injuriously expelled them

from their native sovereignty of the land.

[Sidenote: [429-430 A.D.]]

The persecution of the Donatists was an event not less favourable to

the designs of Genseric. Seventeen years before he landed in Africa a

public conference was held at Carthage by the order of the magistrate.

The Catholics were satisfied that, after the invincible reasons which

they had alleged, the obstinacy of the schismatics must be inexcusable

and voluntary; and the emperor Honorius was persuaded to inflict the most

rigorous penalties on a faction which had so long abused his patience

and clemency. Three hundred bishops, with many thousands of the inferior

clergy, were torn from their churches, stripped of their ecclesiastical

possessions, banished to the islands, and proscribed by the laws, if

they presumed to conceal themselves in the provinces of Africa. By these

severities, which obtained the warmest approbation of St. Augustine,

great numbers of Donatists were reconciled to the Catholic church; but

the fanatics, who still persevered in their opposition, were provoked to

madness and despair; the distracted country was filled with tumult and

bloodshed. The armed troops of Circumcellions alternately pointed their

rage against themselves or against their adversaries; and the calendar

of martyrs received on both sides a considerable augmentation. Under

these circumstances Genseric, a Christian but an enemy of the orthodox

communion, showed himself to the Donatists as a powerful deliverer, from

whom they might reasonably expect the repeal of the odious and oppressive

edicts of the Roman emperors. The conquest of Africa was facilitated by

the active zeal or the secret favour of a domestic faction; the wanton

outrages against the churches and the clergy, of which the Vandals are

accused, may be fairly imputed to the fanaticism of their allies; and the

intolerant spirit which disgraced the triumph of Christianity contributed

to the loss of the most important province of the West.

The court and the people were astonished by the strange intelligence

that a virtuous hero, after so many favours and so many services, had

renounced his allegiance and invited the barbarians to destroy the

province intrusted to his command. The friends of Boniface, who still

believed that his criminal behaviour might be excused by some honourable

motive, solicited, during the absence of Aëtius, a free conference with

the count of Africa; and Darius, an officer of high distinction, was

named for the important embassy. In their first interview at Carthage,

the imaginary provocations were mutually explained; the opposite letters

of Aëtius were produced and compared, and the fraud was easily detected.

Placidia and Boniface lamented their fatal error; and the count had

sufficient magnanimity to confide in the forgiveness of his sovereign, or

to expose his head to her future resentment. His repentance was fervent

and sincere; but he soon discovered that it was no longer in his power

to restore the edifice which he had shaken to its foundations. Carthage

and the Roman garrisons returned with their general to the allegiance of

Valentinian, but the rest of Africa was still distracted with war and

faction; and the inexorable king of the Vandals, disdaining all terms of

accommodation, sternly refused to relinquish the possession of his prey.

The band of veterans who marched under the standard of Boniface and his

hasty levies of provincial troops were defeated with considerable loss;

the victorious barbarians insulted the open country; and Carthage, Cirta,

and Hippo Regius were the only cities that appeared to rise above the

general inundation.

[Sidenote: [430-431 A.D.]]

On a sudden the seven fruitful provinces, from Tingis (Tangier) to

Tripolis, were overwhelmed by the invasion of the Vandals, whose

destructive rage has perhaps been exaggerated by popular animosity,

religious zeal, and extravagant declamation. War, in its fairest

form, implies a perpetual violation of humanity and justice; and the

hostilities of barbarians are inflamed by the fierce and lawless spirit

which incessantly disturbs their peaceful and domestic society. The

Vandals, where they found resistance, seldom gave quarter; and the deaths

of their valiant countrymen were expiated by the ruin of the cities under

whose walls they had fallen. Careless of the distinctions of age, or sex,

or rank, they employed every species of indignity and torture to force

from the captives a discovery of their hidden wealth. The stern policy of

Genseric justified his frequent examples of military execution. He was

not always the master of his own passions, nor of those of his followers;

and the calamities of war were aggravated by the licentiousness of the

Moors and the fanaticism of the Donatists. Yet I shall not easily be

persuaded that it was the common practice of the Vandals to extirpate the

olive and other fruit trees of a country where they intended to settle;

nor can I believe that it was a usual stratagem to slaughter great

numbers of their prisoners before the walls of a besieged city, for the

sole purpose of infecting the air and producing a pestilence of which

they themselves must have been the first victims.

The generous mind of Count Boniface was tortured by the exquisite

distress of beholding the ruin which he had occasioned, and whose rapid

progress he was unable to check. After the loss of a battle he retired

into Hippo Regius, where he was immediately besieged by an enemy who

considered him as the real bulwark of Africa. By the skill of Boniface,

and perhaps by the ignorance of the Vandals, the siege of Hippo was

protracted above fourteen months; the sea was continually open; and

when the adjacent country had been exhausted by irregular rapine, the

besiegers themselves were compelled by famine to relinquish their

enterprise. The importance and danger of Africa were deeply felt by the

regent of the West. Placidia implored the assistance of her Eastern ally;

and the Italian fleet and army were reinforced by Aspar, who sailed from

Constantinople with a powerful armament. As soon as the force of the

two empires was united under the command of Boniface, he boldly marched

against the Vandals; and the loss of a second battle irretrievably

decided the fate of Africa. He embarked with the precipitation of

despair; and the people of Hippo were permitted, with their families and

effects, to occupy the vacant place of the soldiers, the greatest part of

whom were either slain or made prisoners by the Vandals. The count, whose

fatal credulity had wounded the vitals of the republic, might enter the

palace of Ravenna with some anxiety, which was soon removed by the smiles

of Placidia.

Boniface accepted with gratitude the rank of patrician and the dignity of

master-general of the Roman armies; but he must have blushed at the sight

of those medals in which he was represented with the name and attributes

of Victory. The discovery of his fraud, the displeasure of the empress,

and the distinguished favour of his rival, exasperated the haughty and

perfidious soul of Aëtius. He hastily returned from Gaul to Italy with a

retinue, or rather with an army, of barbarian followers; and such was the

weakness of the government that the two generals decided their private

quarrel in a bloody battle. Boniface was successful; but he received in

the conflict a mortal wound from the spear of his adversary, of which he

expired within a few days, in such Christian and charitable sentiments

that he exhorted his wife, a rich heiress of Spain, to accept Aëtius for

her second husband. But Aëtius could not derive any immediate advantage

from the generosity of his dying enemy; he was proclaimed a rebel by

the justice of Placidia; and though he attempted to defend some strong

fortresses erected on his patrimonial estate, the imperial power soon

compelled him to retire into Pannonia, to the tents of his faithful Huns.

The republic was deprived by their mutual discord of the service of her

two most illustrious champions.[66]

[Sidenote: [431-439 A.D.]]

It might naturally be expected, after the retreat of Boniface, that

the Vandals would achieve without resistance or delay the conquest of

Africa. Eight years, however, elapsed from the evacuation of Hippo to

the reduction of Carthage. In the midst of that interval, the ambitious

Genseric, in the full tide of apparent prosperity, negotiated a treaty

of peace, by which he gave his son Hunneric for a hostage and consented

to leave the Western emperor in the undisturbed possession of the

three Mauretanias.[67] The vigilance of his enemies was relaxed by the

protestations of friendship which concealed his hostile approach; and

Carthage was at length surprised by the Vandals, 585 years after the

destruction of the city and republic by the younger Scipio.

The king of the Vandals severely reformed the vices of a voluptuous

people; and the ancient, noble, ingenuous freedom of Carthage (these

expressions of Victor are not without energy) was reduced by Genseric

into a state of ignominious servitude. After he had permitted his

licentious troops to satiate their rage and avarice, he instituted a more

regular system of rapine and oppression. An edict was promulgated, which

enjoined all persons, without fraud or delay, to deliver their gold,

silver, jewels, and valuable furniture or apparel to the royal officers;

and the attempt to secrete any part of their patrimony was inexorably

punished with death and torture, as an act of treason against the state.

The lands of the proconsular province, which formed the immediate

district of Carthage, were accurately measured and divided among the

barbarians; and the conqueror reserved, for his peculiar domain, the

fertile territory of Byzacium and the adjacent parts of Numidia and

Gætulia.

It was natural enough that Genseric should hate those whom he had

injured; the nobility and senators of Carthage were exposed to his

jealousy and resentment, and all those who refused the ignominious terms,

which their honour and religion forbade them to accept, were compelled

by the Arian tyrant to embrace the condition of perpetual banishment.

Rome, Italy, and the provinces of the East were filled with a crowd of

exiles, of fugitives, and of ingenuous captives, who solicited the public

compassion.

After the death of his rival Boniface, Aëtius had prudently retired

to the tents of the Huns; and he was indented to their alliance for

his safety and his restoration. Instead of the suppliant language of

a guilty exile, he solicited his pardon at the head of sixty thousand

barbarians; and the empress Placidia confessed, by a feeble resistance,

that the condescension which might have been ascribed to clemency was the

effect of weakness or fear. She delivered herself, her son Valentinian,

and the Western Empire into the hands of an insolent subject; nor could

Placidia protect the son-in-law of Boniface, the virtuous and faithful

Sebastian, from the implacable persecution which urged him from one

kingdom to another, till he miserably perished in the service of the

Vandals. The fortunate Aëtius, who was immediately promoted to the rank

of patrician and thrice invested with the honours of the consulship,

assumed, with the title of master of the cavalry and infantry, the whole

military power of the state; and he is sometimes styled, by contemporary

writers, the duke, or general, of the Romans of the West. His prudence,

rather than his virtue, engaged him to leave the grandson of Theodosius

in the possession of the purple; and Valentinian was permitted to enjoy

the peace and luxury of Italy, while the patrician appeared in the

glorious light of a hero and a patriot, who supported near twenty years

the ruins of the Western Empire.

The barbarians, who had seated themselves in the western provinces,

were insensibly taught to respect the faith and valour of the patrician

Aëtius. He soothed their passions, consulted their prejudices, balanced

their interests, and checked their ambition. A seasonable treaty, which

he concluded with Genseric, protected Italy from the depredations of the

Vandals; the independent Britons implored and acknowledged his salutary

aid; the imperial authority was restored and maintained in Gaul and

Spain; and he compelled the Franks and the Suevi, whom he had vanquished

in the field, to become the useful confederates of the republic.

From a principle of interest as well as gratitude, Aëtius assiduously

cultivated the alliance of the Huns. While he resided in their tents

as a hostage, or an exile, he had familiarly conversed with Attila

himself, the nephew of his benefactor; and the two famous antagonists

appear to have been connected by a personal and military friendship,

which they afterwards confirmed by mutual gifts, frequent embassies, and

the education of Carpilio, the son of Aëtius, in the camp of Attila.

By the specious professions of gratitude and voluntary attachment, the

patrician might disguise his apprehensions of the Scythian conqueror, who

pressed the two empires with his innumerable armies. His demands were

obeyed or eluded. When he claimed the spoils of a vanquished city--some

vases of gold, which had been fraudulently embezzled--the civil and

military governors of Noricum were immediately despatched to satisfy his

complaints; and it is evident, from their conversation with Maximin and

Priscus in the royal village, that the valour and prudence of Aëtius had

not saved the western Romans from the common ignominy of tribute. Yet

his dexterous policy prolonged the advantages of a salutary peace; and

a numerous army of Huns and Alani, whom he had attached to his person,

was employed in the defence of Gaul. Two colonies of these barbarians

were judiciously fixed in the territories of Valence and Orleans, and

their active cavalry secured the important passages of the Rhone and

of the Loire. These savage allies were not indeed less formidable to

the subjects than to the enemies of Rome. Their original settlement was

enforced with the licentious violence of conquest; and the province

through which they marched was exposed to all the calamities of a hostile

invasion. Strangers to the emperor or the republic, the Alani of Gaul

were devoted to the ambition of Aëtius; and though he might suspect that,

in a contest with Attila himself, they would revolt to the standard of

their national king, the patrician laboured to restrain, rather than to

excite, their zeal and resentment against the Goths, the Burgundiones,

and the Franks.

[Sidenote: [418-439 A.D.]]

The kingdom established by the Visigoths, in the southern provinces of

Gaul, had gradually acquired strength and maturity; and the conduct of

those ambitious barbarians, either in peace or war, engaged the perpetual

vigilance of Aëtius. After the death of Wallia the Gothic sceptre

devolved to Theodoric, the son of the great Alaric; and his prosperous

reign, of more than thirty years, over a turbulent people may be allowed

to prove that his prudence was supported by uncommon vigour, both of

mind and body. Impatient of his narrow limits, Theodoric aspired to the

possession of Arles, the wealthy seat of government and commerce; but the

city was saved by the timely approach of Aëtius; and the Gothic king,

who had raised the siege with some loss and disgrace, was persuaded

for an adequate subsidy to divert the martial valour of his subjects

in a Spanish war. Yet Theodoric still watched, and eagerly seized the

favourable moment of renewing his hostile attempts. The Goths besieged

Narbo Martius (Narbonne), while the Belgic provinces were invaded by the

Burgundiones; and the public safety was threatened on every side by the

apparent union of the enemies of Rome. On every side the activity of

Aëtius and his Scythian cavalry opposed a firm and successful resistance.

Twenty thousand Burgundiones were slain in battle, and the remains of the

nation humbly accepted a dependent seat in the mountains of Savoy.

The walls of Narbo had been shaken by the battering engines, and the

inhabitants had endured the last extremities of famine, when Count

Litorius, approaching in silence, and directing each horseman to carry

behind him two sacks of flour, cut his way through the entrenchments of

the besiegers. The siege was immediately raised, and the more decisive

victory, which is ascribed to the personal conduct of Aëtius himself, was

marked with the blood of eight thousand Goths. But in the absence of the

patrician, who was hastily summoned to Italy by some public or private

interest, Count Litorius succeeded to the command; and his presumption

soon discovered that far different talents are required to lead a wing of

cavalry or to direct the operations of an important war. At the head of

an army of Huns, he rashly advanced to the gates of Tolosa (Toulouse),

full of careless contempt for an enemy whom misfortune had rendered both

prudent and desperate.

The predictions of the augurs had inspired Litorius with the profane

confidence that he should enter the Gothic capital in triumph; and the

trust which he reposed in his pagan allies encouraged him to reject the

fair conditions of peace, which were repeatedly proposed by the bishops

in the name of Theodoric. The king of the Goths exhibited in his distress

the edifying contrast of Christian piety and moderation; nor did he lay

aside his sackcloth and ashes till he was prepared to arm for the combat.

His soldiers, animated with martial and religious enthusiasm, assaulted

the camp of Litorius. The conflict was obstinate, the slaughter was

mutual. The Roman general, after a total defeat, which could be imputed

only to his unskilful rashness, was actually led through the streets of

Tolosa, not in his own, but in a hostile triumph. [His captors in a few

days put an end to his shame and his life.]

Such a loss, in a country whose spirit and finances were long since

exhausted, could not easily be repaired; and the Goths, assuming, in

their turn, the sentiments of ambition and revenge, would have planted

their victorious standards on the banks of the Rhone, if the presence

of Aëtius had not restored strength and discipline to the Romans. The

two armies expected the signal of a decisive action; but the generals,

who were conscious of each other’s force and doubtful of their own

superiority, prudently sheathed their swords in the field of battle;

and their reconciliation was permanent and sincere. Theodoric, king of

the Visigoths, appears to have deserved the love of his subjects, the

confidence of his allies, and the esteem of mankind. His throne was

surrounded by six valiant sons, who were educated with equal care in the

exercises of the barbarian camp and in those of the Gallic schools; from

the study of the Roman jurisprudence, they acquired the theory, at least,

of law and justice, and the harmonious sense of Virgil contributed to

soften the asperity of their native manners.

[Illustration: COSTUME OF A GOTH WOMAN]

[Sidenote: [439-450 A.D.]]

The two daughters of the Gothic king were given in marriage to the eldest

sons of the kings of the Suevi and of the Vandals, who reigned in Spain

and Africa; but these illustrious alliances were pregnant with guilt

and discord. The queen of the Suevi bewailed the death of a husband,

inhumanly massacred by her brother. The princess of the Vandals was

the victim of a jealous tyrant, whom she called her father. The cruel

Genseric suspected that his son’s wife had conspired to poison him; the

supposed crime was punished by the amputation of her nose and ears, and

the unhappy daughter of Theodoric was ignominiously returned to the court

of Tolosa in that deformed and mutilated condition. This horrid act,

which must seem incredible to a civilised age, drew tears from every

spectator; but Theodoric was urged, by the feelings of a parent and a

king, to revenge such irreparable injuries.

The imperial ministers, who always cherished the discord of the

barbarians, would have supplied the Goths with arms, and ships, and

treasures, for the African War; and the cruelty of Genseric might

have been fatal to himself, if the artful Vandal had not armed in his

cause the formidable power of the Huns. His rich gifts and pressing

solicitations inflamed the ambition of Attila; and the designs of Aëtius

and Theodoric were prevented by the invasion of Gaul.

[Sidenote: [429-450 A.D.]]

The Franks, whose monarchy was still confined to the neighbourhood of the

lower Rhine, had wisely established the right of hereditary succession

in the noble family of the Merovingians. These princes were elevated

on a buckler, the symbol of military command, and the royal fashion

of long hair was the ensign of their birth and dignity. Their flaxen

locks, which they combed and dressed with singular care, hung down in

flowing ringlets on their backs and shoulders; while the rest of the

nation were obliged, either by law or custom, to shave the hinder part

of their head, to comb their hair over the forehead, and to content

themselves with the ornament of two small whiskers. The lofty stature of

the Franks, and their blue eyes, denoted a Germanic origin; their close

apparel accurately expressed the figure of their limbs; a weighty sword

was suspended from a broad belt; their bodies were protected by a large

shield. And these warlike barbarians were trained, from their earliest

youth, to run, to leap, to swim; to dart the javelin or battle-axe with

unerring aim; to advance without hesitation against a superior enemy; and

to maintain, either in life or death, the invincible reputation of their

ancestors.

Clodion, the first of their long-haired kings, whose name and actions

are mentioned in authentic history, held his residence at Dispargum, a

village or fortress, whose place may be assigned between Louvain and

Brussels. From the report of his spies, the king of the Franks was

informed that the defenceless state of the second Belgic must yield, on

the slightest attack, to the valour of his subjects. He boldly penetrated

through the thickets and morasses of the Carbonarian forest, occupied

Turnacum (Tournay) and Camaracum (Cambray), the only cities which

existed in the fifth century, and extended his conquests as far as the

river Samara (Somme), over a desolate country, whose cultivation and

populousness are the effects of more recent industry (429).

While Clodion lay encamped in the plains of Artois, and celebrated with

vain and ostentatious security the marriage perhaps of his son, the

nuptial feast was interrupted by the unexpected and unwelcome presence

of Aëtius, who had passed the Samara at the head of his light cavalry.

The tables, which had been spread under the shelter of a hill, along

the banks of a pleasant stream, were rudely overturned; the Franks were

oppressed before they could recover their arms or their ranks; and their

unavailing valour was fatal only to themselves. The loaded wagons which

had followed their march afforded a rich booty; and the virgin bride,

with her female attendants, submitted to the new lovers who were imposed

on them by the chance of war. This advantage, which had been obtained

by the skill and activity of Aëtius, might reflect some disgrace on the

military prudence of Clodion; but the king of the Franks soon regained

his strength and reputation, and still maintained the possession of his

Gallic kingdom from the Rhine to the Samara.

Under his reign, and most probably from the enterprising spirit of

his subjects, the three capitals, Mogontiacum, Augusta Trevirorum,

and Colonia Agrippina, experienced the effects of hostile cruelty and

avarice. The distress of Colonia Agrippina was prolonged by the same

barbarians who evacuated the ruins of Augusta Trevirorum; and Augusta

Trevirorum, which in the space of forty years had been four times

pillaged, was disposed to lose the memory of her afflictions in the vain

amusements of the circus. The death of Clodion, after a reign of twenty

years, exposed his kingdom to the discord and ambition of his two sons.

Merovæus, the younger, was persuaded to implore the protection of Rome;

he was received at the imperial court as the ally of Valentinian, and the

adopted son of the patrician Aëtius; and dismissed to his native country,

with splendid gifts and the strongest assurances of friendship and

support. During his absence, his elder brother had solicited with equal

ardour the formidable aid of Attila; and the king of the Huns embraced an

alliance which facilitated the passage of the Rhine and justified by a

specious and honourable pretence the invasion of Gaul.

When Attila declared his resolution of supporting the cause of his allies

the Vandals and the Franks, at the same time and almost in the spirit

of romantic chivalry, the savage monarch professed himself the lover

and the champion of the princess Honoria. The sister of Valentinian

was educated in the palace of Ravenna; and as her marriage might be

productive of some danger to the state, she was raised by the title of

Augusta above the hopes of the most presumptuous subject. But the fair

Honoria had no sooner attained the sixteenth year of her age than she

detested the importunate greatness which must forever exclude her from

the comforts of honourable love; in the midst of vain and unsatisfactory

pomp, Honoria sighed, yielded to the impulse of nature, and threw

herself into the arms of her chamberlain Eugenius. Her guilt and shame

(such is the absurd language of imperious man) were soon betrayed by

the appearances of pregnancy; but the disgrace of the royal family was

published to the world by the imprudence of the empress Placidia, who

dismissed her daughter, after a strict and shameful confinement, to a

remote exile at Constantinople. The unhappy princess passed twelve or

fourteen years in the irksome society of the sisters of Theodosius and

their chosen virgins; to whose crown Honoria could no longer aspire, and

whose monastic assiduity of prayer, fasting, and vigils she reluctantly

imitated. Her impatience of long and hopeless celibacy urged her to

embrace a strange and desperate resolution.

The name of Attila was familiar and formidable at Constantinople; and his

frequent embassies entertained a perpetual intercourse between his camp

and the imperial palace. In the pursuit of love, or rather of revenge,

the daughter of Placidia sacrificed every duty and every pretence; and

offered to deliver her person into the arms of the barbarian, of whose

language she was ignorant, whose figure was scarcely human, and whose

religion and manners she abhorred. By the ministry of a faithful eunuch,

she transmitted to Attila a ring, the pledge of her affection; and

earnestly conjured him to claim her as a lawful spouse, to whom he had

been secretly betrothed. These indecent advances were received however

with coldness and disdain; and the king of the Huns continued to multiply

the number of his wives, till his love was awakened by the more forcible

passions of ambition and avarice.

The invasion of Gaul was preceded and justified by a formal demand

of the princess Honoria, with a just and equal share of the imperial

patrimony. His predecessors, the ancient Tanjous, had often addressed, in

the same hostile and peremptory manner, the daughters of China; and the

pretensions of Attila were not less offensive to the majesty of Rome. A

firm but temperate refusal was communicated to his ambassadors. The right

of female succession, though it might derive a specious argument from the

recent examples of Placidia and Pulcheria, was strenuously denied; and

the indissoluble engagements of Honoria were opposed to the claims of her

Scythian lover. On the discovery of her connection with the king of the

Huns, the guilty princess had been sent away as an object of horror from

Constantinople to Italy. Her life was spared; but the ceremony of her

marriage was performed with some obscure and nominal husband, before she

was immured in a perpetual prison, to bewail those crimes and misfortunes

which Honoria might have escaped, had she not been born the daughter of

an emperor.

A native of Gaul, and a contemporary, the learned and eloquent Sidonius,

who was afterwards bishop of Clermont, had made a promise to one of his

friends that he would compose a regular history of the war of Attila.

If the modesty of Sidonius had not discouraged him from the prosecution

of this interesting work, the historian would have related with the

simplicity of truth those memorable events to which the poet, in vague

and doubtful metaphors, has concisely alluded. The kings and nations

of Germany and Scythia, from the Volga perhaps to the Danube, obeyed

the warlike summons of Attila. From the royal village, in the plains

of Hungary, his standard moved towards the west and, after a march of

seven or eight hundred miles he reached the conflux of the Rhine and the

Nicer (Neckar); where he was joined by the Franks, who adhered to his

ally, the elder of the sons of Clodion. A troop of light barbarians, who

roamed in quest of plunder, might choose the winter for the convenience

of passing the river on the ice; but the innumerable cavalry of the Huns

required such plenty of forage and provisions as could be procured only

in a milder season; the Hercynian forest supplied materials for a bridge

of boats; and the hostile myriads were poured, with resistless violence,

into the Belgic provinces.

[Sidenote: [450-451 A.D.]]

The consternation of Gaul was universal; and the various fortunes of

its cities have been adorned by tradition with martyrdoms and miracles.

Tricassæ (Troyes) was saved by the merits of St. Lupus; St. Servatius was

removed from the world, that he might not behold the ruin of Aduataca

Tungrorum (Tongres); and the prayers of St. Genevieve diverted the march

of Attila from the neighbourhood of Lutetia Parisiarum (Paris). But as

the greatest part of the Gallic cities were alike destitute of saints

and soldiers, they were besieged and stormed by the Huns, who practised,

in the example of Mettis (Metz), their customary maxims of war. They

involved, in a promiscuous massacre, the priests who served at the

altar, and the infants, who, in the hour of danger, had been providently

baptised by the bishop; the flourishing city was delivered to the flames,

and a solitary chapel of St. Stephen marked the place where it formerly

stood. From the Rhine and the Mosella (Moselle), Attila advanced into the

heart of Gaul, crossed the Sequana (Seine) at Autesiodorum (Auxerre),

and, after a long and laborious march, fixed his camp under the walls of

Orleans. He was desirous of securing his conquests by the possession of

an advantageous post, which commanded the passage of the Loire; and he

depended on the secret invitation of Sangiban, king of the Alani, who had

promised to betray the city and to revolt from the service of the empire.

But this treacherous conspiracy was detected and disappointed. Orleans

had been strengthened with recent fortifications; and the assaults of the

Huns were vigorously repelled by the faithful valour of the soldiers or

citizens, who defended the place.

The pastoral diligence of Anianus, a bishop of primitive sanctity and

consummate prudence, exhausted every art of religious policy to support

their courage till the arrival of the expected succours. After an

obstinate siege, the walls were shaken by the battering-rams; the Huns

had already occupied the suburbs; and the people who were incapable of

bearing arms lay prostrate in prayer. Anianus, who anxiously counted

the days and hours, despatched a trusty messenger to observe, from the

rampart, the face of the distant country. He returned twice, without

any intelligence that could inspire hope or comfort; but in his third

report he mentioned a small cloud which he had faintly descried at the

extremity of the horizon. “It is the aid of God!” exclaimed the bishop,

in a tone of pious confidence; and the whole multitude repeated after

him, “It is the aid of God!” The remote object, on which every eye was

fixed, became each moment larger and more distinct; the Roman and Gothic

banners were gradually perceived; and a favourable wind blowing aside the

dust discovered, in deep array, the impatient squadrons of Aëtius and

Theodoric, who pressed forward to the relief of Orleans.

The facility with which Attila had penetrated into the heart of Gaul may

be ascribed to his insidious policy, as well as to the terror of his

arms. His public declarations were skilfully mitigated by his private

assurances; he alternately soothed and threatened the Romans and the

Goths; and the courts of Ravenna and Tolosa, mutually suspicious of each

other’s intentions, beheld with supine indifference the approach of

their common enemy. Aëtius was the sole guardian of the public safety;

but his wisest measures were embarrassed by a faction which, since the

death of Placidia, infested the imperial palace; the youth of Italy

trembled at the sound of the trumpet; and the barbarians, who, from

fear or affection, were inclined to the cause of Attila, awaited with

doubtful and venal faith the event of the war. The patrician passed the

Alps at the head of some troops, whose strength and numbers scarcely

deserved the name of an army. But on his arrival at Arelate, or Lugdunum

he was confounded by the intelligence that the Visigoths, refusing to

embrace the defence of Gaul, had determined to expect within their own

territories the formidable invader whom they professed to despise.

The senator Avitus, who after the honourable exercise of the prætorian

prefecture had retired to his estate in Auvergne, was persuaded to accept

the important embassy, which he executed with ability and success. He

represented to Theodoric that an ambitious conqueror, who aspired to the

dominion of the earth, could be resisted only by the firm and unanimous

alliance of the powers whom he laboured to oppress. The lively eloquence

of Avitus inflamed the Gothic warriors by the description of the injuries

which their ancestors had suffered from the Huns; whose implacable

fury still pursued them from the Danube to the foot of the Pyrenees.

He strenuously urged that it was the duty of every Christian to save

from sacrilegious violation the churches of God and the relics of the

saints; that it was the interest of every barbarian, who had acquired

a settlement in Gaul, to defend the fields and vineyards which were

cultivated for his use against the desolation of the Scythian shepherds.

Theodoric yielded to the evidence of truth; adopted the measure at once

the most prudent and the most honourable, and declared that, as the

faithful ally of Aëtius and the Romans, he was ready to expose his life

and kingdom for the common safety of Gaul.

The Visigoths, who at that time were in the mature vigour of their fame

and power, obeyed with alacrity the signal of war; prepared their arms

and horses, and assembled under the standard of their aged king, who was

resolved with his two eldest sons Torismond and Theodoric, to command

in person his numerous and valiant people. The example of the Goths

determined several tribes or nations, that seemed to fluctuate between

the Huns and the Romans. The indefatigable diligence of the patrician

gradually collected the troops of Gaul and Germany, who had formerly

acknowledged themselves the subjects, or soldiers, of the republic,

but who now claimed the rewards of voluntary service and the rank of

independent allies--the Læti, the Armoricans, the Breones, the Saxons,

the Burgundiones, the Sarmatians or Alani, the Ripuarians, and the Franks

who followed Meroveus as their lawful prince. Such was the various army

which, under the conduct of Aëtius and Theodoric, advanced by rapid

marches to relieve Orleans and to give battle to the innumerable host of

Attila.

On their approach, the king of the Huns immediately raised the siege,

and sounded a retreat to recall the foremost of his troops from the

pillage of a city which they had already entered. The valour of

Attila was always guided by his prudence; and as he foresaw the fatal

consequences of a defeat in the heart of Gaul, he repassed the Seine,

and expected the enemy in the plains of Châlons, whose smooth and level

surface was adapted to the operations of his Scythian cavalry. But in

this tumultuary retreat the vanguard of the Romans and their allies

continually pressed, and sometimes engaged, the troops which Attila had

posted in the rear; the hostile columns, in the darkness of the night

and the perplexity of the roads, might encounter each other without

design; and the bloody conflict of the Franks and Gepids, in which

fifteen thousand barbarians were slain, was a prelude to a more general

and decisive action. The Catalaunian fields spread themselves round

Châlons,[68] and extend, according to the vague measurement of Jordanes,

to the length of 150 and the breadth of 100 miles over the whole

province, which is entitled to the appellation of a champaign country.[b]

[Illustration: ANCIENT SPEAR HEADS]

THE GOTHIC HISTORIAN JORDANES ON THE BATTLE OF CHÂLONS

But before entering upon the actual encounter, we had better here refer

to some preliminary details, all the more that this battle was no less

ample in scale and complicated in details than the day of its date

was famous. Sangiban, king of the Alans, solicitous for his future,

promised Attila submission and to hand over his then residence, Aureliani

(Orleans). This treacherous move coming to the ears of Theodoric and

Aëtius, they constructed great outworks around the city, keeping the

suspected Sangiban under surveillance, and posted him and his people

among their own auxiliaries. Consequently Attila, impressed by this

occurrence and distrustful of his own strength, hesitated to join action.

Yet fearing flight as he did death, he resolved to scan the future by

help of augury.

As usual the augurs pried into the entrails of a sheep, and inspected its

bones and veins as the latter showed on some scraped bones, announcing,

as a result, misfortune to the Huns. A morsel of contentment was added,

however, in the prediction that the enemy’s commander-in-chief should

die in the hour of victory, and sully his laurels. Now Attila, in his

eager desire for the death of Aëtius even at the risk of his own, and his

army’s defeat, although disturbed by the prospect held out by the augurs,

yet, being skilled in the refinements of military tactics, after some

hesitation resolved to join battle about three in the afternoon and thus

obviate suspicion of yielding by trusting to darkness in case of defeat.

The field, from a gentle slope, gradually assumed the character of a

hill. As the advantages presented by such conformation were by no means

slight, both parties made this slope their objective, the Huns with their

auxiliaries seizing upon the right flank, the Romans and Visigoths the

left, leaving the crest for future decision. The contest commences,

Aëtius on the left with his Romans, with the Visigoths as his right

support, and Sangiban leader of the Alans between--a piece of military

precaution by which they doubly flanked this rather doubtful leader,

since fighting is the more probable where flight is impossible.

The battle array of the Huns was on a different plan. Attila with his

bravest held the centre. By this arrangement he had his personal safety

in view, trusting that a stand amid the valiant of his race would insure

himself, at least as king, from imminent danger. On the flanks there

deployed in disorder multitudes of subject nations and people, chief

among whom were the Ostrogoths’ forces under the leadership of the three

brothers, Walamir, Theodomir, and Widemir, nobler than the very king

himself whom they served, since resplendent with the hereditary glories

of the Amal race. There might be seen also at the head of countless bands

of the Gepidæ their most renowned king, Ardaric, who from his all too

great loyalty to Attila was of his inner counsels. For Attila, well aware

of his wisdom, prized him and Walamir of the Ostrogoths above all the

pettier royalties--Walamir, the reticent, the affable, the guileless, and

Ardaric the knightly and the loyal. Not without reason was it that Attila

trusted them to match their Visigothic kindred.

As for the rest,--the kingly mob, if I am not irreverent,--and the

chiefs of this nation and that, retainers rather than kings, they hung

on each move of Attila’s; and did his eye beckon them, then, speechless,

terrified, and trembling they stood at call, or at least were subservient

to his every order. Yet king of kings though he was, was Attila solitary

amid all, and over all solicitous.

The battle began over the possession of the ridge already mentioned.

Leading his men on to secure this summit, Attila was in this forestalled

by Torismund and Aëtius who, striving with all their might to reach

the crest, first won it, and from their superior vantage ground easily

dispersed the Huns. When Attila beheld his troops disorganised by this

occurrence, he thought a harangue at this juncture would rally them and

said:

“Victorious so often over so many nations, and masters of the world,

if to-day you flinch not, I should think myself a fool to rouse you to

courage by speech as if you were raw recruits. Consign such conduct to

the juvenile general and the untrained militia. It as little befits me to

deal in commonplace as you to listen. You are warriors, or nothing, and

what to such is more satisfying than to carve out his vengeance by the

sword? Ah! Revenge, nature’s first gift and sweetest soother of the soul!

Let your feet then be swift to the attack since ever is the attacker

the bolder! Heed not that mongrel mass of foreign speech, who but prove

their fear by herding together. Look at them! Look! how even before

our first charge they are swayed to and fro from fear; they make for

hill and height; again, too late for regret, are back for safety to the

battle-field. You need no telling as to the flimsiness of Roman defence,

or how, not a wound, but a speck of dust merely lays them low. Be your

old selves, and, while they are punctiliously peddling away at formations

and shield-locking, charge with your unflinching courage, laugh at their

‘formations.’ On against Visigoth and down with the Alans! There lies

speedy victory for us, and there the struggle lies. Sunder the sinew and

the limbs collapse; hack the bones and the body falls!

“Huns of mine! Rouse your rage, and let your fury swell as of old!

Craftily now, and by the sword-stroke then! Some death mid the enemy let

the wounded man seek, and the scatheless fight till he sicken with the

slaughter! The child of victory the dart will not smite, but fate deals

the doomed one his death at the board. Nor did fortune deal the Hun such

a roll of victories, if not to make him blithe over this one victory

the more. Who unbared the Mœtic swamp, the secret of the centuries?

Who weaponless vanquished the weaponed? These herded outcasts dare not

confront the Hun! That this shall be my new field of victory, the long

tale of my former assures me! Yea! and first am I whose shaft shall be

sped! And doomed is he who fights not when Attila leads the fight.”

Spurred on by this dithyramb, headlong into fight they rush.

The juncture had its terrors, yet the king’s presence overcame the fear

even of the coward. It was soon a case of man to man. It was a battle,

savage, tangled, widespread, dogged. Antiquity has not its parallel. Such

deeds are told of, that he who has not been privileged to witness them,

though witnessing much that is marvellous, yet must ever lack the marvel

of this. For, to believe tradition, a brook whose feeble current rolled

through the plain already spoken of, swollen by the blood of the wounded

and enlarged not as usual by rains but by an all too rare flood, was

converted into a torrent by this sanguine contribution. Those, moreover,

parched by loss of blood, who were driven to its bank, were reduced to

drinking this gruesome draught--drinking by an enforced fate the very

gushings of their own wounds.

Then, too, King Theodoric, riding up and down his ranks in cheering

exhortation, fell from his steed and was trampled under foot by his own

soldiery, terminating his career at an advanced age. Another tale has it

that he fell by the javelin of Andagis, Attila’s lieutenant. Thus was

accomplished the prediction of Attila’s augurs, which Attila had set down

to Aëtius.

Next the Visigoths, leaving the Alans, fell on the Hunnish bands with

fury, and Attila himself were as good as dead, had not his prudence

led him to take refuge with his followers within his camp and its

fortification of wagons. Weak as was this shelter, yet there, for

protection of their lives, trooped the warriors whom but a little

previously no ordinary obstacle could withstand.

Torismond, son of Theodoric, who, with Aëtius, had seized the hill and

repelled the enemy from its summit, in the belief that he was rejoining

his men, and misled by the darkness of the night, stepped inside the

wagon enclosure of the Huns. While fighting bravely, he fell to the

ground from his wounded horse, but though rescued by his men he was

persuaded to give up further fighting. Aëtius, too, during the night’s

confusion, wandered amid the enemy. Dreading some disaster to the Goths,

he persisted in his search for the correct way, arriving at length at the

allied camp, where under the protection of shields he passed the night.

At dawn a plain is seen heaped and covered with corpses, but the Huns do

not venture to issue from their retreat, and so the confederates judge

the victory theirs. They judged, too, that it was no common disaster

which had induced the flight of Attila from the battle-field. Yet was his

action not that of one who acknowledged defeat.

He showed his usual courage, for within his camp was the clash of

arms, the brattle of the trumpet, ever threatening a sortie; as a

lion might, when hard beset by the hunters, ramp and rave at entrance

to his den, without venturing to emerge, yet nevertheless terrifying

the neighbourhood by his roaring, so did the warlike king, secure in

his retreat, supply a source of fear to his conquerors. These latter

resolved to wear him out by a siege, since he lacked provisions, and as

he could from his archers placed inside the barrier rain down showers of

missiles on them should they attempt an assault by force. It is reported,

however, that the king, haughty as ever even in a situation so desperate,

had formed a pyre from saddlery, having resolved to throw himself into

its flames should the enemy force his camp, that none might boast of

having wounded him, or that the lord of so many nations should have ever

been in an enemy’s power.

[Illustration: GALLIC WEAPONS]

Whilst this siege bred delay, the Visigoths busied themselves in search

for their king,--the father of Torismond,--wondering at his absence while

success had crowned their arms. When after long search they found him,

as is not infrequent among brave men, amid a dense heap of bodies, they

honoured him in song, bearing away his body under the eyes of the enemy.

Then it was possible to see crowds of Goths, with uncouth accent that

rent the air in song, render the last and most sacred rites to the dead

while all around was war. Tears there were, but such as a warrior merits.

The death was ours, to be sure, but even to the Hun it was glorious,

nor did Attila’s pride feel aught but humbled to see the Goths bear to

burial with all its trappings the body of a mighty king. These Goths,

while paying last and merited honours to Theodoric, at the same hour made

over to his son the royal dignity, and amid clash of arms the brave and

glorious warrior Torismond followed the funeral rites of his dear father

as was fitting for a son.

These rites accomplished, urged by grief through his bereavement and

impelled by natural valour, Torismond resolved to avenge the death of

his father upon the remnant of the Huns. On this point he consulted the

patrician Aëtius, his senior in years and of riper experience, and craved

advice as to his action. He in his fear lest the thorough overthrow of

the Huns might leave the Roman power at the mercy of the Goths, advised

him as follows:

That he should retrace his steps to his own state, and firmly secure

the throne now vacant by his father’s death, as otherwise his brothers

might seize upon the royal treasure, and usurp the regal power over the

Visigoths, in which case was no alternative left but a laborious contest

made all the more squalid as being between relatives. Torismond listened

to this advice not as to a piece of duplicity but as if it advanced

his own interests, and leaving the Huns behind him, he returned to his

district of Gaul. Thus does man’s weakness give way to suspicion, and

amid momentous events lose the opportune hour.

In this most famous battle, waged between the bravest of races, report

says that one hundred and sixty-five thousand men fell on both sides,

not to mention fifteen thousand of the Gepids and Franks, who one night

before the general engagement meeting by chance fell by mutual assault,

the Franks siding with Romans, the Gepids with the Huns.

On Attila’s learning the departure of the Goths, he pursued such course

as is customary in abnormal circumstances. He suspected a ruse, and so

for some time longer lurked in camp. But when the enemy’s absence was

conjoined to lengthened quiet, the spirit of a victor returned to him,

gaiety gained the upper hand, and the musings of this mighty monarch

resumed the path of their ancient destiny.

Meanwhile Torismond, who had succeeded to the throne, marched into

Tolosa, and none was found to dispute his succession.[d]

THE INVASION OF ITALY: THE FOUNDATION OF VENICE

[Sidenote: [451-452 A.D.]]

Neither the spirit, nor the forces, nor the reputation of Attila were

impaired by the failure of the Gallic expedition. In the ensuing spring,

he repeated his demand of the princess Honoria and her patrimonial

treasures. The demand was again rejected, or eluded; and the indignant

lover immediately took the field, passed the Alps, invaded Italy,

and besieged Aquileia with an innumerable host of barbarians. Those

barbarians were unskilled in the methods of conducting a regular siege,

which, even among the ancients, required some knowledge, or at least

some practice, of the mechanical arts. But the labour of many thousand

provincials and captives, whose lives were sacrificed without pity, might

execute the most painful and dangerous work. The skill of the Roman

artists might be corrupted to the destruction of their country. The walls

of Aquileia were assaulted by a formidable train of battering-rams,

movable turrets, and engines, that threw stones, darts, and fire; and

the monarch of the Huns employed the forcible impulse of hope, fear,

emulation, and interest to subvert the only barrier which delayed the

conquest of Italy.

Aquileia was at that period one of the richest, the most populous, and

the strongest of the maritime cities of the Adriatic coast. The Gothic

auxiliaries, who appeared to have served under their native princes

Alaric and Antala, communicated their intrepid spirit; and the citizens

still remembered the glorious and successful resistance which their

ancestors had opposed to a fierce, inexorable barbarian who disgraced the

majesty of the Roman purple. Three months were consumed without effect in

the siege of Aquileia; till the want of provisions and the clamours of

his army compelled Attila to relinquish the enterprise, and reluctantly

to issue his orders that the troops should strike their tents the next

morning, and begin their retreat. But, as he rode round the walls,

pensive, angry, and disappointed, he observed a stork preparing to leave

her nest in one of the towers, and to fly with her infant family towards

the country. He seized, with the ready penetration of a statesman,

this trifling incident which chance had offered to superstition, and

exclaimed, in a loud and cheerful tone, that such a domestic bird, so

constantly attached to human society, would never have abandoned her

ancient seats unless these towers had been devoted to impending ruin and

solitude.

The favourable omen inspired an assurance of victory; the siege was

renewed and prosecuted with fresh vigour; a large breach was made in

the part of the wall from whence the stork had taken her flight; the

Huns mounted to the assault with irresistible fury; and the succeeding

generation could scarcely discover the ruins of Aquileia. After this

dreadful chastisement, Attila pursued his march; and, as he passed, the

cities of Altinum, Concordia, and Patavium (Padua) were reduced into

heaps of stones and ashes. The inland towns, Vicentia (Vicenza), Verona,

and Bergomum (Bergamo) were exposed to the rapacious cruelty of the

Huns. Mediolanum and Ticinum submitted without resistance to the loss

of their wealth; and applauded the unusual clemency which preserved

from the flames the public as well as private buildings, and spared the

lives of the captive multitude. The popular traditions of Comum, Turin,

or Modena may justly be suspected; yet they concur with more authentic

evidence to prove that Attila spread his ravages over the rich plains of

modern Lombardy, which are divided by the Po, and bounded by the Alps and

Apennine. When he took possession of the royal palace of Mediolanum, he

was surprised and offended at the sight of a picture, which represented

the Cæsars seated on their throne and the princes of Scythia prostrate at

their feet. The revenge which Attila inflicted on this monument of Roman

vanity was harmless and ingenious. He commanded a painter to reverse

the figures and the attitudes; and the emperors were delineated, on the

same canvas, approaching in a suppliant posture to empty their bags of

tributary gold before the throne of the Scythian monarch. The spectators

must have confessed the truth and propriety of the alteration; and were

perhaps tempted to apply, on this singular occasion, the well-known fable

of the dispute between the lion and the man.

It is a saying worthy of the ferocious pride of Attila that the grass

never grew on the spot where his horse had trod. Yet the savage destroyer

undesignedly laid the foundation of a republic which revived, in the

feudal state of Europe, the art and spirit of commercial industry. The

celebrated name of Venice, or Venetia, was formerly diffused over a large

and fertile province of Italy, from the confines of Pannonia to the

river Addua, and from the Po to the Rætian and Julian Alps. Before the

irruption of the barbarians, fifty Venetian cities flourished in peace

and prosperity; Aquileia was placed in the most conspicuous station,

but the ancient dignity of Patavium was supported by agriculture and

manufactures; and the property of five hundred citizens who were entitled

to the equestrian rank must have amounted, at the strictest computation,

to 1,700,000 pounds. Many families of Aquileia, Patavium, and the

adjacent towns, who fled from the sword of the Huns, found a safe though

obscure refuge in the neighbouring islands.

At the extremity of the gulf, where the Adriatic feebly imitates the

tides of the ocean, near a hundred small islands are separated by shallow

water from the continent, and protected from the waves by several long

slips of land, which admit the entrance of vessels through some secret

and narrow channels. Till the middle of the fifth century, these remote

and sequestered spots remained without cultivation, with few inhabitants,

and almost without a name. But the manners of the Venetian fugitives,

their arts and their government, were gradually formed by their new

situation; and one of the epistles of Cassiodorus, which describes their

condition about seventy years afterwards, may be considered as the

primitive monument of the republic.

THE RETREAT OF ATTILA

[Sidenote: [452-453 A.D.]]

The Italians, who had long since renounced the exercise of arms, were

surprised, after forty years’ peace, by the approach of a formidable

barbarian, whom they abhorred as the enemy of their religion as well as

of their republic. Amidst the general consternation, Aëtius alone was

incapable of fear; but it was impossible that he should achieve, alone

and unassisted, any military exploits worthy of his former renown. The

barbarians, who had defended Gaul, refused to march to the relief of

Italy; and the succours promised by the Eastern emperor were distant

and doubtful. Since Aëtius, at the head of his domestic troops, still

maintained the field, and harassed or retarded the march of Attila, he

never showed himself more truly great than at the time when his conduct

was blamed by an ignorant and ungrateful people.

If the mind of Valentinian had been susceptible of any generous

sentiments, he would have chosen such a general for his example and his

guide. But the timid grandson of Theodosius, instead of sharing the

dangers escaped from the sound of war; and his hasty retreat from Ravenna

to Rome, from an impregnable fortress to an open capital, betrayed his

secret intention of abandoning Italy, as soon as the danger should

approach his imperial person. This shameful abdication was suspended,

however, by the spirit of doubt and delay, which commonly adheres to

pusillanimous counsels and sometimes corrects their pernicious tendency.

The Western emperor, with the senate and people of Rome, embraced the

more salutary resolution of deprecating, by a solemn and suppliant

embassy, the wrath of Attila. This important commission was accepted

by Avienus, who, from his birth and riches, his consular dignity, the

numerous train of his clients, and his personal abilities, held the first

rank in the Roman senate.

[Illustration: A ROMAN COFFER]

The specious and artful character of Avienus was admirably qualified

to conduct a negotiation either of public or private interest; his

colleague Trigetius had exercised the prætorian prefecture of Italy;

and Leo, bishop of Rome, consented to expose his life for the safety of

his flock. The genius of Leo was exercised and displayed in the public

misfortunes; and he has deserved the appellation of “great,” by the

successful zeal with which he laboured to establish his opinions and his

authority, under the venerable names of orthodox faith and ecclesiastical

discipline. The Roman ambassadors were introduced to the tent of Attila,

as he lay encamped at the place where the slow-winding Mincius is lost in

the foaming waves of the lake Benacus, and trampled, with the Scythian

cavalry, the farms of Catullus and Virgil. The barbarian monarch listened

with favourable, and even respectful, attention; and the deliverance of

Italy was purchased by the immense ransom, or dowry, of the princess

Honoria. The state of his army might facilitate the treaty and hasten his

retreat. Their martial spirit was relaxed by the wealth and indolence of

a warm climate.

The shepherds of the north, whose ordinary food consisted of milk and raw

flesh, indulged themselves too freely in the use of bread, of wine, and

of meat prepared and seasoned by the arts of cookery; and the progress

of disease revenged in some measure the injuries of the Italians. When

Attila declared his resolution of carrying his victorious arms to the

gates of Rome, he was admonished by his friends as well as by his enemies

that Alaric had not long survived the conquest of the Eternal City. His

mind, superior to real danger, was assaulted by imaginary terrors; nor

could he escape the influence of superstition, which had so often been

subservient to his designs. The pressing eloquence of Leo, his majestic

aspect and sacerdotal robes, excited the veneration of Attila for the

spiritual father of the Christians. The apparition of the two Apostles,

St. Peter and St. Paul, who menaced the barbarian with instant death if

he rejected the prayer of their successor, is one of the noblest legends

of ecclesiastical tradition. The safety of Rome might deserve the

interposition of celestial beings; and some indulgence is due to a fable

which has been represented by the pencil of Raphael and the chisel of

Algardi.

Before the king of the Huns evacuated Italy, he threatened to return

more dreadful and more implacable, if his bride, the princess Honoria,

were not delivered to his ambassadors within the term stipulated by

the treaty. Yet, in the meantime, Attila relieved his tender anxiety

by adding a beautiful maid, whose name was Ildico, to the list of his

innumerable wives. Their marriage was celebrated with barbaric pomp and

festivity, at his wooden palace beyond the Danube; and the monarch,

oppressed with wine and sleep, retired at a late hour from the banquet

to the nuptial bed. His attendants continued to respect his pleasures

or his repose the greatest part of the ensuing day, till the unusual

silence alarmed their fears and suspicions; and, after attempting to

awaken Attila by loud and repeated cries, they at length broke into the

royal apartment. They found the trembling bride sitting by the bedside,

hiding her face with her veil, and lamenting her own danger as well as

the death of the king, who had expired during the night. An artery had

suddenly burst; and as Attila lay in a supine posture, he was suffocated

by a torrent of blood, which, instead of finding a passage through the

nostrils, regurgitated into the lungs and stomach. His body was solemnly

exposed in the midst of the plain, under a silken pavilion, and the

chosen squadrons of the Huns, wheeling round in measured evolutions,

chanted a funeral song to the memory of a hero glorious in his life,

invincible in his death, the father of his people, the scourge of his

enemies, and the terror of the world. According to their national custom,

the barbarians cut off a part of their hair, gashed their faces with

unseemly wounds, and bewailed their valiant leader as he deserved, not

with the tears of women but with the blood of warriors (453).

[Sidenote: [453-454 A.D.]]

The remains of Attila were enclosed within three coffins, of gold, of

silver, and of iron, and privately buried in the night: the spoils of

nations were thrown into his grave; the captives who had opened the

ground were inhumanly massacred; and the same Huns who had indulged such

excessive grief, feasted with dissolute and intemperate mirth about the

recent sepulchre of their king. It was reported at Constantinople that,

on the fortunate night on which he expired, Marcian beheld in a dream the

bow of Attila broken asunder; and the report may be allowed to prove how

seldom the image of that formidable barbarian was absent from the mind of

a Roman emperor.

The revolution which subverted the empire of the Huns established the

fame of Attila, whose genius alone had sustained the huge and disjointed

fabric. After his death the boldest chieftains aspired to the rank of

kings; the most powerful kings refused to acknowledge a superior; and the

numerous sons whom so many various mothers bore to the deceased monarch

divided and disputed, like a private inheritance, the sovereign command

of the nations of Germany and Scythia. The bold Ardaric felt and resented

the disgrace of this servile partition; and his subjects, the warlike

Gepidæ, with the Ostrogoths, under the conduct of three valiant brothers,

encouraged their allies to vindicate the rights of freedom and royalty.

In a bloody and decisive conflict on the banks of the river Netad, in

Pannonia, the lance of the Gepidæ, the sword of the Goths, the arrows

of the Huns, the Suevic infantry, the light arms of the Heruli, and the

heavy weapons of the Alani, encountered or supported each other; and the

victory of Ardaric was accompanied with the slaughter of thirty thousand

of his enemies. Ellac, the eldest son of Attila, lost his life and

crown in the memorable battle of Netad; his early valour had raised him

to the throne of the Acatzires, a Scythian people whom he subdued, and

his father, who loved the superior merit, would have envied the death

of Ellac. His brother Dengisich, with an army of Huns, still formidable

in their flight and ruin, maintained his ground above fifteen years on

the banks of the Danube. The palace of Attila, with the old country of

Dacia, from the Carpathian hills to the Euxine, became the seat of a new

power which was erected by Ardaric, king of the Gepidæ. The Pannonian

conquests, from Vindobona to Sirmium, were occupied by the Ostrogoths;

and the settlements of the tribes who had so bravely asserted their

native freedom were irregularly distributed, according to the measure

of their respective strength. Surrounded and oppressed by the multitude

of his father’s slaves, the kingdom of Dengisich was confined to the

circle of his wagons; his desperate courage urged him to invade the

Eastern Empire; he fell in battle; and his head, ignominiously exposed

in the Hippodrome, exhibited a grateful spectacle to the people of

Constantinople.

Attila had fondly or superstitiously believed that Irnac, the youngest

of his sons, was destined to perpetuate the glories of his race. The

character of that prince, who attempted to moderate the rashness of

his brother Dengisich, was more suitable to the declining condition of

the Huns; and Irnac, with his subject hordes, retired into the heart

of the Lesser Scythia. They were soon overwhelmed by a torrent of new

barbarians, who followed the same road which their own ancestors had

formerly discovered. The Geougen or Avars, whose residence is assigned

by the Greek writers to the shores of the ocean, impelled the adjacent

tribes; till at length the Igours of the north, issuing from the cold

Siberian regions, which produce the most valuable furs, spread themselves

over the desert, as far as the Borysthenes and the Caspian gates; and

finally extinguished the empire of the Huns.

Such an event might contribute to the safety of the Eastern Empire, under

the reign of a prince who conciliated the friendship without forfeiting

the esteem of the barbarians. But the emperor of the West, the feeble

and dissolute Valentinian, who had reached his thirty-fifth year without

attaining the age of reason or courage, abused this apparent security

to undermine the foundations of his own throne by the murder of the

patrician Aëtius. From the instinct of a base and jealous mind, he hated

the man who was universally celebrated as the terror of the barbarians,

and the support of the republic; and his new favourite, the eunuch

Heraclius, awakened the emperor from the supine lethargy which might be

disguised, during the life of Placidia, by the excuse of filial piety.

The fame of Aëtius, his wealth and dignity, the numerous and martial

train of barbarian followers, his powerful dependents, who filled the

civil offices of the state, and the hopes of his son Gaudentius, who was

already contracted to Eudoxia, the emperor’s daughter, had raised him

above the rank of a subject.

The ambitious designs of which he was secretly accused, excited the

fears, as well as the resentment, of Valentinian. Aëtius himself,

supported by the consciousness of his merit, his services, and perhaps

his innocence, seems to have maintained a haughty and indiscreet

behaviour. The patrician offended his sovereign by a hostile declaration;

he aggravated the offence, by compelling him to ratify with a solemn oath

a treaty of reconciliation and alliance; he proclaimed his suspicions;

he neglected his safety; and from a vain confidence that the enemy whom

he despised was incapable even of a manly crime, he rashly ventured his

person in the palace of Rome. Whilst he urged, perhaps with intemperate

vehemence, the marriage of his son, Valentinian, drawing his sword, the

first sword he had ever drawn, plunged it in the breast of a general who

had saved his empire; his courtiers and eunuchs ambitiously struggled to

imitate their master; and Aëtius, pierced with a hundred wounds, fell

dead in the royal presence. Boethius, the prætorian prefect, was killed

at the same moment; and before the event could be divulged, the principal

friends of the patrician were summoned to the palace and separately

murdered. The horrid deed, palliated by the specious names of justice and

necessity, was immediately communicated by the emperor to his soldiers,

his subjects, and his allies.

[Sidenote: [454-455 A.D.]]

The nations who were strangers or enemies to Aëtius generously deplored

the unworthy fate of a hero; the barbarians who had been attached to his

service dissembled their grief and resentment; and the public contempt

which had been so long entertained for Valentinian, was at once converted

into deep and universal abhorrence. Such sentiments seldom pervade the

walls of a palace; yet the emperor was confounded by the honest reply

of a Roman, whose approbation he had not disdained to solicit: “I am

ignorant, sir, of your motives or provocations; I only know that you have

acted like a man who cuts off his right hand with his left.”

The luxury of Rome seems to have attracted the long and frequent visits

of Valentinian; who was consequently more despised at Rome than in any

other part of his dominions. A republican spirit was insensibly revived

in the senate, as their authority, and even their supplies, became

necessary for the support of his feeble government. The stately demeanour

of an hereditary monarch offended their pride; and the pleasures of

Valentinian were injurious to the peace and honour of noble families. The

birth of the empress Eudoxia was equal to his own, and her charms and

tender affection deserved those testimonies of love which her inconstant

husband dissipated in vague and unlawful amours.

Petronius Maximus, a wealthy senator of the Anician family, who had

been twice consul, was possessed of a chaste and beautiful wife; her

obstinate resistance served only to irritate the desires of Valentinian,

and he resolved to accomplish them either by stratagem or force. Deep

gaming was one of the vices of the court; the emperor, who by chance or

contrivance had gained from Maximus a considerable sum, uncourteously

exacted his ring as a security for the debt; and sent it by a trusty

messenger to his wife, with an order in her husband’s name that she

should immediately attend the empress Eudoxia. The unsuspecting wife of

Maximus was conveyed in her litter to the imperial palace; the emissaries

of her impatient lover conducted her to a remote and silent bedchamber;

and Valentinian violated, without remorse, the laws of hospitality.

Her tears when she returned home, her deep affliction, and her bitter

reproaches against her husband, whom she considered as the accomplice of

his own shame, excited Maximus to a just revenge; the desire of revenge

was stimulated by ambition; and he might reasonably aspire by the free

suffrage of the Roman senate to the throne of a detested and despicable

rival. Valentinian, who supposed that every human breast was devoid, like

his own, of friendship and gratitude, had imprudently admitted among

his guards several domestics and followers of Aëtius. Two of these, of

barbarian race, were persuaded to execute a sacred and honourable duty

by punishing with death the assassin of their patron; and their intrepid

courage did not long expect a favourable moment. Whilst Valentinian

amused himself in the Field of Mars with the spectacle of some military

sports, they suddenly rushed upon him with drawn weapons, despatched the

guilty Heraclius, and stabbed the emperor to the heart, without the least

opposition from his numerous train, who seemed to rejoice in the tyrant’s

death.

Such was the fate of Valentinian III, the last Roman emperor of the

family of Theodosius. He faithfully imitated the hereditary weakness of

his cousin and his two uncles, without inheriting the gentleness, the

purity, the innocence, which alleviate in their characters the want of

spirit and ability. Valentinian was less excusable, since he had passions

without virtues; even his religion was questionable; and though he never

deviated into the paths of heresy, he scandalised the pious Christians by

his attachment to the profane arts of magic and divination.[b]

FOOTNOTES

[66] [This story of the feud between Boniface and Aëtius was the subject

of a severe onslaught by Freeman, who calls it “the Procopian legend.”

Hodgkin, however, thinks that it “has still a reasonable claim to be

accepted as history.” _Italy and her Invaders_, Vol. I, pp. 889-898.]

[67] [See Procopius _de Bell. Vandal._ I. 1. c. 4, p. 186. Valentinian

published several humane laws, to relieve the distress of his Numidian

and Mauretanian subjects; he discharged them, in a great measure, from

the payment of their debts, reduced their tribute to one-eighth, and gave

them a right of appeal from the provincial magistrates to the prefect of

Rome.]

[68] [The place which we now call Châlons was probably under the Romans

named Duro-Catalaunum. It was the chief place of the Catalauni, a tribe

who dwelt next to the Suessiones. In Roman miles (10 of which are about

equal to 9 English), and by the Roman roads, Châlons was 170 miles

distant from Metz, and 51 from Troyes.[c]]

[Illustration: ROMAN TERRA-COTTA FIGURES]

[Illustration]