There was no answer. Humiliated and afraid the Emperor did everything according to the bidding of Attila, save only he refused him the head of Chrysaphius. The greatest officers of the Empire were sent as ambassadors and Attila humiliated them at his pleasure; a rich widow was found for Constantius, gold and silver were poured out at Attila’s feet. Yet he demanded the head of Chrysaphius. At last, in the year 450, two Gothic messengers, it is said, arrived from the Hun, the one at Constantinople, the other at Ravenna. Upon the same day and at the same hour they appeared before Theodosius and Valentinian and delivered this message: “Attila, my master and thine, bids thee prepare a palace for him.” Imperat per me Dominus meus et Dominus tuus Attilas, ut sibi palatium instruas.
That insolent message, if indeed it was ever delivered, fell upon deaf ears. Upon July 25, 450, Theodosius died, and three months later Placidia the mother and good genius of Valentinian, the real ruler of the West, died also. A new Emperor, Marcian, reigned at Constantinople. Chrysaphius was put to death, and Marcian, an old soldier, at once faced Attila with something of the ancient Roman energy. The Barbarian turned away to consider how he might loot the West.
V
THE ATTACK UPON THE WEST
In turning from the East, where he did not like the look of Marcian, to the West, where the weak and sensual Valentinian, then thirty-one years old, seemed to offer himself as a prey, the universal robber needed a pretext for his attack. The matter of the plate of Sirmium he had either forgotten or he feared that concerning it he would be met and satisfied. He needed a bone of contention which it would be impossible for Valentinian to yield. He found it in Honoria, the Emperor’s sister.
It will be remembered that in 435, fifteen years before, this wild and passionate girl, in disgrace at Constantinople, had sent her ring to Attila and had offered herself to him, to be his bride, as her mother had been the bride of Adolphus, the successor of Alaric. For fifteen years the Barbarian had forgotten this romantic proposal, and though he had kept her ring he had made no overtures or demands of any sort for the lady. Upon the death of Placidia in 450 he recalled the affair, and at once sent a message to Valentinian claiming both Honoria and her property as his, and with her a half of the Western Empire. He asserted that he learned with the greatest surprise that his betrothed was on his account treated with ignominy and even imprisoned. For his part he could see nothing unworthy in her choice which in fact should have flattered the Emperor, and he insisted that she should at once be set at liberty and sent to him with her portion of the inheritance of her father, and the half of the Western Empire as her dowry.
To this amazing proposition Valentinian made answer that Honoria was already married, and that therefore she could not be the wife of the Hun, since unlike the Barbarians the Romans did not recognise polygamy or polyandry; that his sister had no claim to the Empire which could not be governed by a woman and was not a family inheritance. To all this Attila made no reply; only he sent Honoria’s ring to Ravenna and persisted in his demands.
The insincerity of Attila’s claims, the fact that they were but a pretext, is proved by this that suddenly he dropped them altogether and never referred to them again. Honoria was as utterly forgotten as the plate of Sirmium. He tried another way to attain his end, became suspiciously friendly, swore that the Emperor had no friend so sure as he, the Empire no ally more eager to serve it.
The truth was that a pretext for attack far better than the withholding of Honoria had suddenly appeared. The province of Africa had been lost to the Romans by the invasion of the Vandals who were now governed by a man not unlike Attila himself, Genseric. It is true he was not a pagan like the Hun, but he was an Arian, and he had gathered under his banner all the Barbarians that surged among the ruins of the Roman cities of Africa. Genseric had married his son to the daughter of Theodoric, King of the Visigoths, but as this alliance did not bring him all he hoped, he returned the girl to her father minus her ears and her nose, which he had cut off. Fearing lest Theodoric should invoke the aid of the Empire against him for this unspeakable deed, Genseric had sought the alliance of Attila. A new vision opened before the Hun; he saw a new alliance, if not a new suzerainty, offered him with whose aid he might attack the Empire both north and south, so that while he descended upon the richest of the European provinces of Rome—Gaul, Genseric should fall upon Italy herself. In this scheme for the final loot of the West Attila was still further encouraged by the fact that the Franks, the most warlike of the Barbarian tribes in Europe (that which was destined first to become Catholic and later to refound the Empire), were in anarchy by reason of the death of their chief, whose inheritance was in dispute between his two sons. The elder of these had appealed to Attila for his assistance, while the younger had turned to Rome and had become indeed the protégé, if not the adopted son, of the great Roman general Aetius. This young man at Aetius’ suggestion went to Rome to petition the Emperor, and there Priscus saw him “a beardless boy, his golden hair floating on his shoulders.”
Here was a quarrel after Attila’s own heart. The Vandals should invade Italy from Africa, he would fall upon Gaul, the passages of the Rhine being opened for him by the Franks. He forgot all about Honoria. At once he sent a message to Valentinian informing him of his determination to attack the Visigoths and bidding him not to interfere. The Visigoths, he declared, were his subjects, subjects who had escaped from his dominion, but over whom he had never abandoned his rights. He pointed out too how dangerous they were to the peace of the Empire, on whose behalf, as much as on his own, he now proposed to chastise them.
Valentinian replied that the Empire was not at war with the Visigoths, and that if it were it would conduct its own quarrels in its own way. The Visigoths, said he, dwelt in Gaul as the guests and under the protection of the Roman Empire, and in consequence to strike at them was to strike at the Empire. But Attila would not hear or understand. He insisted that he was about to render Valentinian a service, and then, confirming us in our opinion that his object was merely loot, sent to Theodoric bidding him not to be uneasy, for that he was about to enter Gaul to free him from the Roman yoke.