Customer Reviews

The Night Attila Died: Solving the Murder of Attila the Hun

5 star:		(7)
4 star:		(2)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

The classic story of Attila's death was handed down by the historian Jordanes in his "Gothic History," written in Constantinople about 100 years after Attila died. According to this narrative, Attila married a Germanic princess, Ildico, enjoyed a wild night of drunken revelry, and retired to his bed with his new bride. The next day, his guards found him dead with Ildico weeping by his side--he had evidently drowned from a nosebleed during his drunken stupor.

Not a very flattering ending for the Scourge of God--and that, according to Babcock, is exactly the point. The author uses his skills as a philologist to explore the ancient texts and what they have to say about Attila's life and, ultimately, his death. It turns out there is a fair amount of evidence to suggest that Jordanes wasn't telling the truth. Babcock theorizes that Attila was murdered, possibly in revenge for the death of Bleda (the Hun's elder brother) and almost certainly with the complicity of the eastern and western Roman empires. And once Attila was gotten rid of, the historians and their powerful patrons conspired to make sure that his death would be remembered as a humiliating one, the better to discourage those who would attack the divinely protected Roman world.

The conclusion that Attila was murdered is not all that surprising--he was a violent man in a violent time, and the traditional story of his demise sounds too much like a fable with a moral attached. After all, if you're a powerful, warlike Hun, what could be worse than to die in the comfort of your bed rather than on the battlefield?

But it doesn't matter whether you ultimately agree with Babcock that Attila was murdered--what's enjoyable about "The Night Attila Died" is the journey through ancient texts and Wagnerian operas, through half-remembered legends and and the detritus of time. From the standpoint of his prospective victims, the method of Attila's death was less important than the critical fact that "Attila died." For the rest of us, there's an intriguing murder mystery here with lots of clues--shifty suspects, questionable motives, lots of people with opportunity, and plenty of self-serving testimony. Attila's death was and is a great story, and Babcock has done a nice job of telling it.

For further reading about the Huns and their depradations, consider Patrick Howarth's "Attila, King of the Huns: The Man and the Myth" (short and readable) and Hugh Kennedy's "Mongols, Huns and Vikings," which does a great job of explaining why nomads like the Huns were such effective warriors--and how and why civilized societies were ultimately able to defeat them.

Dr. Michael Babcock makes a compelling case that Attila the Hun did not die of natural causes - a nosebleed - but instead was murdered. Given the lifestyle Attila led, the liklihood of murder is a much higher probability in any case, than natural causes ... Like a modern detective the author examines the key players who had something to gain by Attila's death. He discovers the clues obtained from historical documents, some of which were altered in an attempt to mislead anyone who was looking for evidence, but just enough detail is left that points to an assasination plot which succeeded.

The author suspected something was amiss in the generally accepted explanations for Attila's death when he was a student of philology (the study of reconstructing the past from words, taking into consideratin culture, history, phonetics and graphics). The author read the detailed account of Attila's death initially in the book "Gothic History" by Jordanes which included a tightly constructed explanation filled with precise details ... however the account was written a hundred years after Attila's death. It was written based on a historical document left by Priscus, a Fifth Century historian and diplomat. Priscus had attended Attila's court in 449 A.D. and a detailed description of this event survived in his autobiography. Unfortunately, Priscus's account of Attila's death did not survive, the only thing which remained was the second hand version written by Jordanes ...

The most fascinating information contained within this book is how the politics of the past are revealed. At the time, the Roman Empire was separated into East and West: Marcinion was Emperor in the East and Valintinian III ruled as Emperor of Rome. Rome was losing some of its provinces as new nations in Europe were born from their ashes. Each of the two Empires had reasons to see Attila dead ... The book captures the imagination of the reader taking one back to ancient times. The reader's eyes are openedas to how different factions influenced and swayed each Empire and how power was wielded behind the scenes by those who could manipulate events to their own advantage. Whether or not the author is correct can not be factually proven but he provides enough information to make a great case for his side. Erika Borsos [pepper flower]

Here is the tale of Attila's death in the year 453 as told by Edward Gibbon in "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire": "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 mean while, 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 greater 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."

Gibbon was paraphrasing a surviving fragment written by a Sixth Century Byzantine historian named Jordanes, who got his information from an earlier Sixth Century post-imperial Roman historian named Cassiodorus (whose works are now entirely lost), who almost certainly was following a now-lost portion of the work of the Fifth Century historian Priscus, a resident of Constantinople who had actually met Attila and had narrowly escaped being crucified by him.

Michael A. Babcock, the author of this book, thinks it's all a pack of lies and he sets out to prove it. This is a formidable task, for there are no other original sources about the death of Attila. Oh, a few religious writers removed by more than a century in time and half a continent in distance made brief, offhand comments to the effect that Attila had indeed died--no details provided. And some Germanic poets remembered a mighty king, Etzel or maybe Atli, who had come to an unpleasant end in his great hall.

Undismayed by a total lack of anything solid upon which to build, Babcock begins by speaking warmly of an early Twentieth Century scholar, a philologist who "viewed the past as a palimpsest that can only be read once the layers are painstakingly scraped away." Despite the surely depressing fact that the scholar had "concluded that the 'official' historical record was indeed correct," Babcock soldiers on, saying, "Through the same methodology I have reached a very different conclusion: the official account of Attila's death is an elaborate cover story. How can a 'science' yield such different answers? ... We've entered into one of those murky areas, like psychology, where 'expert testimony' must be relied on." Babcock, of course, is the expert and his is the testimony.

Murky areas indeed.

Babcock's version of the "true story" is this: Following the death of the utterly useless Eastern Roman Emperor Theodosius II, the elderly but vigorous soldier-emperor Marcian took command at Constantinople. Theodosius had bumbled an attempt to assassinate Attila--a scheme in which poor unwitting Priscus had been offered up as a sacrificial pawn. The competent Marcian tried again, successfully this time and ordered Priscus, now his court historian, to cover up the murder by attributing the death of Attila to his own bad habits--and the hand of God, of course. Or maybe it was Aetius, the last really competent soldier in the history of the Western Empire, who put the hit on Attila. And maybe Aetius cozied up to Marcian, who then told Priscus to tidy up a cover story.

And this is the domus that Jack built.

Babcock reached his alternative truth by a process of what he called slow and careful reading. His reading applies to texts in late imperial Latin, post-classical Greek, medieval German and Old Icelandic. It is, however, his reading of a text in English that throws up serious doubts about his abilities in general. Let us return to Edward Gibbon and his statement that while waiting for Princess Honoria,* "Attila relieved his tender anxiety by adding a beautiful maid, whose name was Ildico, to the list of his innumerable wives." Babcock goes on at some length about a failed love affair in the life of Edward Gibbon to explain why the Englishman chose the words "tender anxiety." The separation of two lovers, you see, had struck a personal chord, and Babcock's philological science had dredged up a fragment of autobiography in "The Decline and Fall." To that discovery, I can only say horse...ahem...puckey! If a philologist of Babcock's supposed expert standing can't recognize a perfectly obvious piece of irony in his own living language, how can we possibly accept his judgements about dead ones?

Babcock also suffers from a common sort of linguistic shift often found in books about Area 51, UFOs, and the true authorship of Shakespeare's plays: every "may" and "might" transforms itself into a "must." Here is an example of that shift. Priscus was in Egypt on a diplomatic mission to Alexandria when Attila died. Babcock writes: "Then one day an ordinary ship from Constantinople arrived in the harbor.... In a scene that was reenacted dozens of times across the Empire, the crew disembarked and the news spilled out onto the dock and into the streets. Attila is dead. [Italicized in the original.] Priscus must have rushed down to the dock when he heard the news." It might have happened just that way, but there is not a single shred of evidence to support this neat little picture of the seaborne spread of the news or of Priscus rushing anywhere at all.

This is a book that is convincing to the author and to true believers. I am not among their number. I am giving it three stars because the author presents the gross facts of Fifth Century Roman history in a generally reliable and sometimes entertaining manner. As to his conclusions, while it's conceivable he might be right, he certainly hasn't convinced me.
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*Justa Grata Honoria was the sister of the Western emperor, Valentinian III, a monarch who--incredibly!--managed to be even less effective than Theodosius II. It seems that Honoria had offered herself in marriage to Attila, whom even Valentinian could recognize as a very dangerous sort of brother-in-law. Honoria disappears from the fragmented historical record of the time. She is not present in the list of booty carried off by the Vandals when they sacked Rome a few years later. There are hints that Valentinian locked her up in a tower or maybe executed her for treason or maybe both.

Would you like to spend an evening with a forensic detective, sitting in front a a fire with mulled wine, talking about his latest case? If so, this is the book for you. In a chatty style with plenty of interesting asides, Mr. Babcock walks you through the crime and the subsequent coverup. Absolute truth or crackpot conspiracy theory? You be the judge. But you'll absolutely enjoy the evening, and the tortuous (but brilliantly spun) trail of clues leading to his conclusion. Highly recommended.

I waited with much anticipation for Babcock's book because I love historical mysteries. Sadly I have to say that I was disappointed in his effort. I definately feel that it could have benefitted from firmer editing. Babcock has a tendency to go off on tangents that make following his narrative more challenging than it should be. For example he spends a great deal of time arguing that one should take any historic account with a grain of salt because people back then were just as prone, as folks are now, to skew their accounts to a particular point of view. I have no argument with this and Babcock is right to make it, but he keeps bringing up this thought again and again to the point where I wanted to shout, "Okay, Okay, I get it!" As for his contention that Attila was murdered Babcock makes a good circumstantial case as to why this was done and who may have been behind it, but doesn't offer much in the way of particulars. For me this was a bit of a let down.

I must say in the book's favor that Babcock's enthusiasm for his subject matter is quite infectious. It's obvious that he cares about this subject and whatever else one can say about the book it is not boring. He more than succeeded in getting me interested in late Roman history, something that I did not know a great deal about.

So if you read the book just be ready to separate the wheat from the chaff.

First off, I'll disagree with this author and say that philology is in most ways an art, not a concrete science. His suggestion that by somehow reading into the subtext of existing and later documentary evidence regarding Attila's demise we can prove a 1,600-year-old act of murder is at best too optimistic and at worst absurdity itself, since from the start, rumor, hearsay and misinformation have been prevalent regarding the end of the great Hunnish king. I felt this book deserved four stars instead of the three I nearly gave it because Michael Babcock was obviously well-versed on his subject matter's life and the period in which he existed, but I cannot see clear to rating this book higher simply because it fails to achieve the lofty goal its author set for himself and promised in the title. Had this been a straightforward biography of Attila, I'd have been more impressed, since the life and times of this figure were indeed nicely-covered. Babcock also delves into the psychological effect the Hunnish invasions had on the populace of Europe, and I was impressed when at the start of chapter seven there was a discussion the discovery in modern times of a number of children's skeletons in and around Lugnano, Italy, dating to the time of Attila. Though victims of a malaria outbreak, it is the fact that these young people of a supposedly Christian era were interred via burial practices that harkened back to customs of pagan Rome that proves telling. Babcock and others feel that so terrifying to the Italians was the concept that Attila was coming, that they abandoned for a time the Christianity of their age in favor of a return to the earlier religion of a more glorious Rome. Fascinating stuff! Attila may very well have been murdered, since the means and motive were there, but I do not feel Babcock proved that a murder took place, and I don't think that after so long a time it is likely a smoking gun will ever come to light. The "Exhibits" Babcock uses to conclude the book were the most unimpressive pieces to his story. Instead of presenting conclusive evidence, Babcock tosses in everything but the proverbial kitchen sink, and offers nothing but circumstantial evidence that we already knew about. While a good read and a sound investigation of the age of Attila the Hun, this book does not prove he was murdered, only re-hashes the long-speculated fact that he might have been.

This book reminds me of how many ways there are to look at an event and the fact that all the views may be valid in their own way. The author certainly does a superb job of critiquing his sources.

When I studied history as a subject, I was informed that Herodotus of Halicarnassus was its "father" and that it was born in the 5th century B.C. Before then there was no history only chronicles, that is to say a mere list of events describing "who," "what," "when" and "where," while ascribing the "why" to the domain of the divine as modern science does. Herodotus set the tone early on: History is the story of what happened. As such it is an interesting narrative that engages our attention and teaches us what has happened, implying that it just might happen again if we're not careful. History is sort of back fence gossip write large. People just enjoy hearing what other people have done. It might be pointed out too, that Herodotus was an extremely successful best-selling author--beaten out only by whomever wrote the Bible--and is still--like the Bible--in print. He obviously knew what he was doing and did it well.

The author also makes me realize that, as archaeologists have said all along, historians are gullible; they believe everything they read. On the other hand, he also makes me realize that philologists are great skeptics; they never believe anything they read. When it comes right down to it, I suspect that each discipline fulfills its own role in society, and it is up to the reader to decide not only which take on events he or she chooses to accept but which purpose they want to emphasize. The exact, nothing-but-the-facts-Ma'am data (chronicles), the relevant message of events (history), the physical remains of events (archaeology), or the probability of the events as described (philology).

In the author's case, the question is that of the veracity of the sources on Attila the Hun's death in 453 AD. That he died goes without question--as long as we accept that he existed at all. We all do die, and certainly sufficient time has lapsed that we might all agree that he is indeed deceased. Intriguing though I found the author's discussion of the sources and of his dissection of their usefulness and veracity, I think it still comes down to, "Is it possible that Attila the Hun died in just this manner." Having just read a book on ubiquity (the subject of self-organizing criticality), Ubiquity: Why Catastrophes Happen, and having worked with individuals who were unconscious, flat on their back, and therefore at risk of respiratory obstruction, I'd have to say, "Entirely possible." In fact the event as described by the sources is so amazing, I'd say it's very likely.

There were so many people to whom Attila's death would have given great relief, if not downright joy, it's not only surprising that he was allowed to die in bed, it's positively shocking. I have no trouble believing that numerous attempts on his life occurred as the author suggests; given his character, even his nearest and dearest had to have been "out to get" him. At the very least he should have died in battle. As the Bible states, "Those who live by the sword die by the sword." Certainly many of his contemporaries did. Most importantly, it was obvious that nearly everyone expected that he would, or they would have had very little to say on the subject after his death other than it occurred and when.

According to self-organizing criticality--which has a more statistical take on events in history than any of the social sciences do--anything that can happen will, given enough time. Just when, where, to whom, etc. is not predictable, which is what makes such events so surprising and story worthy. Improbable events are surprising by virtue of their rarity and unpredictability not their impossibility. Attila COULD die in bed of a nosebleed, given lack of consciousness and a subsequent loss of ability to clear his airway. I know just how easily this can happen after dealing with individuals recovering from general anesthesia; it was my job to make certain it didn't! That he actually did do so may be surprising but that doesn't constitute a reason to disbelieve it. That it was so convenient is not a reason to disbelieve it. That there were religious leaders who saw it as the hand of divine providence is not surprising; in fact for such individuals it was. This is also not a reason to disbelieve the account. That world leaders saw it as the hand of "one of the other guys" who was worried about Attila is also not surprising. A big political headache was suddenly cured with minimal side effects for oneself; who can complain about that--big sigh of relief. This is also not a reason to disbelieve the account. That historians should find the story edifying and extract the "meaning" and "significance" of it in political or other social terms is also not surprising; that's what they do for a living. This is also not a reason to disbelieve the account.

I think the man died as it was said he did--but then I like a good story!

I must preface my review by stating that, before reading this book, I knew little about Attila other than his name. Overall, I found it to be a surprisingly fascinating and involving tale, and the "murder" thesis quite plausible. (The "died-of-a-nosebleed-while-in-a-drunken-stupor-on-his-wedding-night" yarn does indisputably sound like the setup for a really, really bad Monty Python sketch.) Unfortunately, the fact that no original, uncorrupted accounts of his death survive make it impossible to tell for certain what the first "official" account of Attila's death even really was. (If he was murdered, I'd like to think that even a bunch of Barbarians could cook up a better cover story than that.) However, I wish the author had shown a little modesty in pushing his theory. When your one source for a death is what one author said one earlier author said about one even earlier author's account, which itself was probably based on hearsay and propaganda...well, it's hard to be too sure of anything much. Babcock would perhaps have been better off just spelling out what little information we have, and let that speak for itself.

That said, I'm still giving the book five stars, simply because, aside from being quite a lively read, it's inspired me to find out more about Attila and his decidedly strange times. I have to thank Babcock for that.

By the way, am I the only one who would like to know, more than anything else involving this story, whatever became of Ildico?

Other reviewers give you the whole book. I prefer to read it myself. And, this book provided new information (at least for me), an intelligent and logical progression of actions and reactions, and an interesting murder plot. I was particularly intrigued by how the author teased out his conclusions from fragments of the past and the use of language.
A worthwhile book which should appeal to a wide variety of readers.

I'm finally not persuaded by Babcock's argument but what a novel this would make! I note on the book flap that the author has an MFA in creative writing. He should try this again as fiction.