From the Publisher Although his graves location is still unknown, Attila the Huns place in history and legend is assured, though controversial. Dubbed The Scourge of God by early Christian chroniclers but known to his intimates for his clemency and wisdom, Attila ruled for only eight years in the middle of the fifth century. In that brief space he consolidated the Hun kingdom and threatened to conquer the empires of both Rome and Constantinople. Drawing on new archaeological findings and Hungarian sources unknown in the West, prolific biographer Patrick Howarth has created the first authentic life of Attila.
Patrick Howarth was the author of numerous works of history, biography and criticism, including 'The Year is 1851' and 'George VI'. Eight programmes of his poetry had been broadcast by BBC Radio 3.
Howarth was a former diplomat who had worked in public relations, and had served in the Special Operations Executive (SOE) during the Second World War. He had also broadcast for the BBC in five languages.
Attila’s name has unmistakable connotations with barbarism, cruelty, conquest, and fear. Yet, as Patrick Howarth’s very good book on the man shows, the reasons for these connotations are not as straight forward as is usually assumed.
Despite having not extended the realms of the Huns through his mostly successful conquests like each of his predecessors had, and despite ruling for only eight years, and despite not even being the most successful conqueror of his day, measured by territories overrun and victories held, he seems to have been feared and respected more than others. He held the Eastern and Western Roman Empires to ransom, striking fear into the hearts of rulers by his swift and effective methods of attack—of striking quick on horseback and with a flurry of arrows that darkened the skies, then feigning a retreat before turning to strike back at a weakened and confused enemy—always appearing as a threat to Constantinople and Rome, and he ravaged Germany and France.
He possessed some form of charisma or magnetic leadership, as he managed to build an army out of a diverse collection of people and military leaders from numerous cultures and races. It is speculated that he did this because he wished to rise to the top, to achieve greatness, and this required him to surround himself with people from a wide array of backgrounds and expertise and abilities. His armies never appeared to suffer the desertions that other powerful armies did.
Much of Atilla’s character and appearance and personal life is not known, these seem to be lost to history. Greek historian Priscus was the only person to have personally known and written about Attila whose writings have survived. His accounts of the Hun army, of Hun rulers and Attila’s court are the few written pieces of history that are linked directly to observation. Other historians and scholars, like sixth century Byzantine writer Procopius, and Goth historian Jordanes, still offer detailed and insightful histories of the man and the events of the 5th century before, during, and after the reign of Attila.
These writers and others, including modern historians and findings from archaeology, are frequently referenced by Howarth, making the book a very thorough and varied account of the myriad people, battles, power shifts, and affairs that one must understand to gain any appreciation of Attila’s achievements and presence.
I’ve seen a lot of criticism of the book for what seem to me petty and insignificant reasons: it doesn’t focus solely on Attila, it spends too much time discussing other rulers, other military leaders, it takes frequent trips on long back stories or tangents, it gives very little clear and irrefutable information on Attila as a person, it leaves unanswered questions about him and some of the critical moments in his life.
First, it is a greater book for most of these reasons. Attila’s impact is not appreciable without first understanding the full context, without the back story of the arrival of the Huns in Eastern Europe, or of the Goths and Vandals and how the complex relations between the two Roman Empires with all the Barbarian peoples plays into the picture.
Furthermore, without the detailed character sketches of the numerous Roman rulers like the Theodosiuses, the Valantinians, Marcian, Pope Leo, Empress Galla Placidia, the Visigoth rulers like Alaric, who conquered Rome, or Attila’s predecessors like his brother Bleda, or Ruga who advanced the Huns into Thrace and requested tribute from Theodosius II for keeping the peace, and his early dealings with Aetius, their Roman hostage who would go on to become one of the most important military leaders in Rome’s battles against Attila, without knowing all of this stuff, the significance of Attila’s actions is not as evident.
There is a lot more of importance too, so much I won’t get into it. But you have to understand things like major decisions that altered the courses of history, like those about defenses, such as the walls around Constantinople that prevented it from being taken, or the sharp mind of Empress Placidia, once dragged through the streets as a captive after her new husband is assassinated, later becoming an effective ruler of the Western Roman Empire.
Most of the book is admittedly about remarkable people or incredible events that do not involve Attila directly, but that fill in a more complete picture of the world. And every one of these sketches or episodes or back stories or miniature epics is every bit as exciting and interesting as the parts that deal directly with Attila.
Howarth lays out in a concise, engaging narrative the many spectacular facets of relevant European history and culture and people that frame Attila’s rise and conquests and demise. He explains the movement and warfare of the Huns, their approach toward Rome, their internal structure and society and culture, how Attila rose to power after the mysterious death of his brother, and the makeup of his kingdom.
He tells of Attila and the Huns’ invasions of France and Italy and the Germanic regions, their successful conquests and their failed attempts, how these affected their later efforts, and provides some insight on Attila’s possible reasoning, his goals, his motivations, and uses all available evidence and careful, informed speculation to evaluate Attila’s triumphs and disappointments and his legacy.
He tells of the plot to assassinate Attila during his mission to Constantinople, a terrific episode of intrigue and suspense, which climaxes in an ultimately failed attempt that illustrates Attila’s compassionate disposition toward his would-be assassin, contrasting starkly with his image as bloodthirsty monster.
Second, while it is true that the book is scarce with its incontestable specifics about Attila’s character or appearance, this is something that cannot be helped. This information simply does not exist in great supply. Attila is a figure of history who is as much myth as he is real person, and even during his life rumors and legends grew up around him, as he was referred to as the Scourge of God, seen by many of the Christians who he slayed or threatened as a force sent by God to punish mankind for their sins and their blasphemies, their deviation from church teachings.
This was an era of much violence and strife, during the decline of the Roman Empire, a period of extreme uncertainty and anxiety, colored by superstition and difficult existence. Attila’s conquests made existence even less endurable for many, so it was a perfect storm of terror.
Howarth does a great job parsing what is known, what is unknown, and what is uncertain about Attila, or about other relevant people and events for that matter, like the battle of the Catalaunian Fields, whose outcome was indecisive and yet had profound repercussions on the direction of Attila’s future activities.
There are dozens of incredibly satisfying and interesting episodes detailed here that prove to be rife for good story, interesting lore, and critical to explaining this captivating history. Internal strifes in the Roman Empire are given fair attention, for these factors often played a role in how events unfolded. Tensions between rulers or military leaders, animosities, personal vendettas or ambitions or peculiarities play equally important roles, and these color many of the backdrops and set the stages, so to speak, for some of the things that occur throughout this period, as Rome is falling, and the barbarians are gathering.
I said there are a lot of unknowns. Even many of the big and significant events are shrouded in a haze of mystery, like the origins of the Huns, some postulating they may be, or may at least be related to, the Hsiung-nu, a warlike people beyond the borders of China who gave the Chinese a lot of problems centuries earlier, and who share some similarities with the Huns of the 5th century, or the conditions of one of Attila’s proposed marriages, or Attila’s death, and even the descendants of Attila, who begin to quickly fade into obscurity within a few generations, and the Hun empire itself begins to disperse, break up, and essentially fall apart into fragments across the continent. A lot is unknown, and will remain unknown. Attila had no chroniclers, no scribes to record his activities, and this can be disappointing to readers who want a complete biography like one might find of Napoleon or Churchill.
The powerful legacy of Attila is given a surprisingly sufficient treatment, as Howarth discusses the legends that came of him, like his appearance in the Nibelungenlied and the Eddas, which he does a respectable job of summarizing, characterizing accurately, and properly contrasting for their differences, including how they portray Atli and Etzel, the Norse and Germanic representations of Attila, respectively.
He also goes into other legends and folklore that star Attila, or a legendary version of him as folk hero. He looks at the Italian and French portrayals of Attila in literature, his appearances in plays and operas and how he is handled in Hungarian legend. The final few chapters are really a welcome examination of how Attila the figure of history and fear, outlined in a shadow of terror and destruction, morphed into a figure of legend and literature, many embellishments or creative liberties being taken, but certain constants remaining.
He also looks at how Attila has been characterized throughout history, and evaluates how accurate or fair these characterizations seem to be, correctly commenting that despite his violence and perceived cruelty, there is no evidence that he was any worse than the other warriors or leaders of his day, even the Romans.
Attila’s impact on the fall of Rome is an undercurrent throughout this book, being a slow and gradual event that is already underway before he enters the picture. For the many and prolonged moments he is not in the spotlight, this development seems like the central story, as it informs and influences everything else, and provides a perfect narrative support for all the drama that is taking place across the empire.
Not much is known about Attila but what is known is covered in this book along with enough background of events in Eastern and Western Rome to make the text accessible to a general readership. From the evidence author Howarth constructs a plausible image of a kinder, gentler barbarian leader than that represented by contemporary and subsequent Roman accounts. The book ends with some review of how the figure of Attila has been treated in subsequent art and literature, noting that his best press has been from the Hungarians, his putative successors.
A book that was more about Europe and the two Roman empires than about Attila himself This is understandable since so little actual documents survive about him but still the title is a bit misleading. Still a real good primer on the 5th century. Nothing new but still rest interesting. Worth a read if you Know nothing about the subject or want a fun little refresher.
To put things in context, this book is maybe seventy-five thousand words long, and the longest of its thirty chapters tops out around three thousand words (or, if you prefer, eight pages). And yet so little is known of Attila the Hun’s life that he doesn’t appear onstage until chapter five and is dead by the end of chapter twenty-two. There’s exactly one well-documented incident in his life (the murder plot by the Byzantine prime minister Chrysanthius), and even that’s only well-documented if we define “well-documented” as “having even one single detailed account”. The most famous episode of his life, the meeting with Pope Leo the Great, is famous precisely BECAUSE it’s so poorly documented, which is to say, because no one knows what actually passed between the two men.
Howarth’s style is sparse, full of simple sentences and one- or two-sentence paragraphs with little transition between the material that precedes or follows them. When he declares in the penultimate chapter that “British scholarly writing on Attila has been neither numerous nor of great originality”, there’s no danger of the reader disagreeing with him.
But the book’s brevity might be exactly what most recommends it. Everyone knows the name Attila the Hun, but I feel like very few no anything about what he did, who he was or when he lived. That’s a shame, because his life is packed with episodes that capture the imagination: his fouling of Chrysanthius’s plot and his reaction to it; the Roman Emperor’s sister who sent him her ring as a proposal of marriage rather than remain under the care of her nunnish female relatives, prompting Attila’s invasions of France and Italy in order to bring the marriage about; his rivalry with the Roman general who opposed him, who had spent his youth as a hostage at the Hun court and been a close friend of Ruga, Attila’s uncle and predecessor on the throne; the mysterious meeting with the Pope, which induced Attila not to march in Rome but rather to withdraw from Italy back into Hungary; his mysterious death on his wedding night, when locked in his bedchamber with his new bride.
So brief a book, then, might just be the perfect way to spend four or five days putting flesh on the bones of what undoubtedly is a very famous name.
The one thing Howarth has that other historians don’t is that he apparently speaks Magyar, and therefore has access to the rich body of Hungarian academic work on the Huns. This certainly enlivened the first four chapters, an attempt to piece together what little we know about the Huns’ pre-Attila history and society. So I was disappointed when that vanished once Attila himself arrived, not reappearing until the book’s final chapter, dealing with how he’s viewed in Hungary today.
I appreciate the reliance on the account of Priscus to establish the "real" Attila, or at least the closest we'll ever get to knowing the real man, but some of the narrative has not aged well. Multiple times the author references the canard that "Romans refused to do military service so they came to rely on barbarians." This is, to say the least, not a current thought in the field and hasn't been for a hundred years. The fact of the matter is the tax base of the western empire couldn't support the military establishment necessary to provide defense. Roman citizen soldiers, or even barbarians soldiers serving under Roman officers in official units were very costly, not the least of which was they required drill and training and uniformed equipment, which barbarian mercenaries serving under their own commanders did not. Howarth repeats this statement *after* the loss of Africa, where the western empire's finances became impossible, which means he didn't consider the fact that the government at Ravenna simply couldn't afford native soldiers, not that they didn't exist. The Eastern Empire, in contrast, had no problem recruiting and attracting native soldiers during the same period precisely because it could afford to continue paying them. Howarth should have asked himself why Eastern Romans were more willing to serve in the army than the Western, and why that vexes his statements.
It's not hard to see, however, in the unnecessary backhanded critique of "british marxist historians" that he rejects material historical analysis and instead prefers convenient narratives, which makes some sense in a character study, but if one rejects materialist historical analysis, one should probably avoid discussing systems which are not understandable outside a materialist context.
I'm being a bit overly critical of a book I actually enjoyed, but had the author mentioned the "Romans didn't want to serve in the military" trope once I wouldn't have mentioned it at all and chalked it up to old fashioned view, but the fact he repeated it means its a core feature of his analysis and thus should be called out.
This book should have been titled "Roman Empire: east and west" since a lot of it was background to what was going on when the great empire was divided. There wasn't much about Attila which makes sense since he didn't have a biographer and what was written about him was by a single man who wasn't even a Hun. I was hoping there would be some discussion on genetic evidence of who he was and also the Huns but there was none.
Howarth's book debunks a lot of the western European myths surrounding Attila. He takes a broad perspective, using ancient sources to paint a full picture of Attila and his brief, 8 year reign as king of the Huns. My chief complaint is that the whole book is too brief. The historical context is sketchy, though with enough detail for Howarth's main points. The story is compelling, the research solid, but the entire study just seems rushed.
The book focuses more on other leaders, ancient historians and basic historical information more so than anything specific about Attila. If you are a history buff and aren’t looking for a book that is strictly about Attila then read up.
On the face of it, a short history of Attila. In fact, the book gets so buried in the detail of the eastern and western Roman empire leading up the time of Attila’s leadership of the Huns, that only a small amount of the book is devoted to Attila. Almost as many pages are devoted to the interpretation of Attila in dramatic presentation since, both on stage and on screen. The lack of information about Attila is evident in the amount of space devoted to anecdotal evidence. Towards the end of the book, there is even an attempt to link the late 19th and early 20th century use of the term ‘hun’ to Attila, which smacks of desperation to put some flesh on the bones of a subject for which very little is actually known. Ultimately, a confused scattergun approach to 5th century European history, drawing heavily on other far better sources.
A woman asked me about a quarter into this book, "What is the one thing about Attila that I should care?" Now that I have finished, I still do not know the answer. Go read about Charlemagne, Chingis Khan, Julius Caesar, and/or William the Conqueror.
Like many other Dumb Americans, at the time I bought the book, I probably was thinking of the sack of Rome. That was a few decades earlier by Visigoths. Attila was late to the party.
The book is written well to set the stage. It explains the stories which have differing perspectives. But it is light on finding enough dots to make conclusions.
Very good introduction to this era. The book itself is indeed light on Attila himself, as some of the other reviews point out. However, I am very new to reading about this particular era and this book does a good job of providing the socio political landscape with which Attila existed. Those looking for more of a biography may be disappointed -- but -- those looking to immerse themselves in the world in which Attila was part of will not be disappointed.
I feel badly only giving this a 3 because I did like the book, and I definitely got out of it what I wanted (like, Attila was a mere ONE THOUSAND YEARS before Genghis Khan). I just don't want you to ACCIDENTALLY pick up a history book because you were disillusioned by my rating. I know all of you are so into my reading preferences. :)
It's a good book, but it's *about* Attila only in name. Yes, Attila does appear in the book. It's more about the Roman Empire in the time of Attila, with a couple chapters about battles Attila fought against Rome.
A useless book, with few facts, no theory and an author completly lost, obliged to permanently refer to Gibbon to give a little bit of structure to his boneless pages.