When most people hear the name Attila the Hun, they picture a ruthless barbarian — a horse-riding conqueror sweeping across Europe, burning and pillaging everything in his path. For centuries, he has been called “The Scourge of God.” But what if we could step back into the 5th century and hear from people who actually met him? What if we could read their words in their own language— not just in translation, but in the very languages they wrote them?
That’s where Latin and Greek come in.
Today, many students (and even parents) wonder why we still teach “dead languages” like Latin and Greek. After all, no one speaks them on the street anymore. But the reason we teach them is not just about vocabulary lists or grammar drills — it’s about uncovering the truth. When we study the classical languages, we gain direct access to the voices of the past. We learn to translate ancient texts for ourselves, not relying only on what a modern translator thinks the author meant. And nowhere is this clearer than in the fascinating accounts of Attila the Hun.
A Tense Dinner with Attila’s Allies
One of the most valuable sources we have for this period comes from Priscus, a Greek historian and diplomat who personally visited Attila’s court. Priscus wasn’t writing centuries later — he was there. His surviving fragments give us a rare, first-hand look at what life was like under the shadow of the Huns.
In one of these accounts, he describes traveling with a group of Huns and stopping for a meal:
Greek (Priscus, Fragment 8):
Ἐξελθόντες μετὰ τῶν βαρβάρων, ἦλθομεν εἰς Σαρδικήν… Ἐν τῷ δεῖπνῳ, ὡς οἱ βάρβαροι ἐπαινοῦν Ἀττίλαν καὶ ἡμεῖς ἐπαινοῦμεν τὸν αὐτοκράτορα, εἶπεν ὁ Βίγιλλας ὅτι οὐκ ἔστιν ὀρθὸν ἀνθρώπῳ θεὸν ἐξισοῦν…
English Translation:
We set out with the barbarians, and arrived at Sardica, which is thirteen days for a fast traveller from Constantinople. Halting there, we considered it advisable to invite Edecon and the barbarians with him to dinner. The inhabitants of the place sold us sheep and oxen, which we slaughtered, and we prepared a meal. In the course of the feast, as the barbarians lauded Attila and we lauded the Emperor, Bigilas remarked that it was not fair to compare a man and a god — meaning Attila by the man and Theodosius by the god. The Huns grew excited and hot at this remark. But we turned the conversation in another direction and soothed their wounded feelings.
Imagine being there — at the table, carefully trying to avoid an international incident. A single wrong word could have sparked conflict. The Romans praised their emperor, the Huns praised Attila, and then Bigilas dropped a statement comparing Theodosius to a god — something the Huns understandably didn’t take well.
If we rely only on translations, we might miss how carefully Priscus chooses his words. The Greek phrase οὐκ ἔστιν ὀρθὸν (“it is not right”) isn’t just casual — it’s a moral statement, something that would have carried weight. The ambassadors were not just talking politics; they were framing the conversation in terms of justice and cosmic order.
“Conquer Yourself” — The Roman Appeal to Attila
Another powerful moment comes from a Latin source, a diplomatic appeal to Attila himself. This is one of the most striking examples of Roman rhetoric:
Latin Text:
“Subjugasti, Attila, universum orbem terrarum, quem Romanis, victoribus omnium populorum, conquisitum esse contigit. Nunc obsecro ut tu, qui alios vicisti, te ipsum vincas. Populus tuum flagellum sensit; nunc supplicans misericordiam tuam sentiat.”
English Translation:
“Thou hast subdued, O Attila, the whole circle of the lands which it was granted to the Romans, victors over all peoples, to conquer. Now we pray that thou, who hast conquered others, shouldst conquer thyself. The people have felt thy scourge; now as suppliants they would feel thy mercy.”
This is masterful diplomacy — and it’s written in the elevated style of Latin rhetoric. Notice the appeal to Attila’s pride (“you have conquered the world”) followed by a moral challenge (“conquer yourself”). A student of Latin would recognize the verb vincas (from vinco, “to conquer”) and see how the orator is cleverly using the same root word to move Attila from violence to self-control.
Why Latin and Greek Matter
This is why we still teach Latin and Greek in schools: not because we expect students to speak them fluently, but because they are keys to understanding history on its own terms.
When students learn these languages, they gain the tools to:
- Read primary sources directly — not just what a translator says they mean.
- Notice rhetorical strategies — like the repetition of vinco in the Latin text.
- Ask critical questions — Was this an honest plea, or a clever way to manipulate Attila? Was Priscus sympathetic to the Romans, or did he admire Attila’s court?
These are the skills of a historian, and they are also the skills of a thoughtful citizen. Learning to analyze texts, to weigh meaning, and to question interpretations helps students in every subject — and helps them become wiser readers of our own world.
The Big Picture
Attila the Hun was one of history’s most feared leaders. Yet through the words of Greek and Latin authors, we can see a more complex picture — of diplomacy, negotiation, persuasion, and humanity. These texts show us that history is not just a list of dates and battles but a conversation between peoples.
When we teach Latin and Greek today, we are inviting students to join that conversation. We are giving them the tools to ask, What really happened? and What did they really mean? In doing so, we are helping them build not only their language skills but also their critical thinking, empathy, and understanding of the human story.
So the next time someone asks, “Why do we still learn these old languages?” you can answer:
Because they let us sit at the table with Priscus, hear the words spoken about Attila, and decide for ourselves what the past has to teach us.
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