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Arminius had caused barricades of hewn trees to be formed here, so as to add to
the natural difficulties of the passage. Fatigue and discouragement now began to betray themselves in the Roman ranks. Their line became less
steady; baggage wagons were abandoned from the impossibility of forcing them along; and, as this happened, many soldiers left their ranks and
crowded round the wagons to secure the most valuable portions of their property: each was busy about his own affairs, and purposely slow in
hearing the word of command from his officers. Arminius now gave the signal for a general attack. The fierce shouts of the Germans pealed through
the gloom of the forests, and in thronging multitudes they assailed the flanks of the invaders, pouring in clouds of darts on the encumbered
legionaries, as they struggled up the glens or floundered in the morasses, and watching every opportunity of charging through the intervals of
the disjointed column, and so cutting off the communication between its several brigades. Arminius, with a chosen band of personal retainers
round him, cheered on his countrymen" by voice and example.
He and his men aimed their weapons particularly at the horses of the Roman cavalry. The wounded animals, slipping about in
the mire and their own blood, threw their riders and plunged among the ranks of the legions, disordering all round them. Varus now ordered
the troops to be countermarched, in the hope of reaching the nearest Roman garrison on the Lippe. But retreat now was as impracticable as
advance; and the falling back of the Romans only augmented the courage of their assailants, and caused fiercer and more frequent charges on
the flanks of the disheartened army.
The Roman officer who commanded the cavalry, Numonius Vala, rode off with his squadrons in the vain hope of escaping by
thus abandoning his comrades. Unable to keep together, or force their way across the woods and swamps, the horsemen were overpowered in
detail, and slaughtered to the last man. The Roman infantry still held together and resisted, but more through the instinct of discipline
and bravery than from any hope of success or escape. Varus, after being severely wounded in a charge of the Germans against his part of the
column, committed suicide to avoid falling into the hands of those whom he had exasperated by his oppressions.
One of the lieutenant generals of the army fell fighting; the other surrendered to the enemy. But mercy to a fallen foe
had never been a Roman virtue, and those among her legions who now laid down their arms in hope of quarter, drank deep of the cup of
suffering, which Rome had held to the lips of many a brave but unfortunate enemy. The infuriated Germans slaughtered their oppressors with
deliberate ferocity, and those prisoners who were not hewn to pieces on the spot were only preserved to perish by a more cruel death in
cold blood.
The bulk of the Roman army fought steadily and stubbornly, frequently repelling the masses of assailants, but gradually
losing the compactness of their array, and becoming weaker and weaker beneath the incessant shower of darts and the reiterated assaults of
the vigorous and unencumbered Germans.
At last, in a series of desperate attacks, the column was pierced through and through, two of the eagles captured and the
Roman host which on the yester morning had marched forth in such pride and might, now broken up into confused fragments, either fell
fighting beneath the overpowering numbers of the enemy, or perished in the swamps and woods in unavailing efforts at flight. Few, very few,
ever saw again the left bank of the Rhine.
One body of brave veterans, arraying themselves in a ring on a little mound, beat off every charge of the Germans, and
prolonged their honorable resistance to the close of that dreadful day. The traces of a feeble attempt at forming a ditch and mound
attested in after years the spot where the last of the Romans passed their night of suffering and despair. But on the morrow this remnant
also, worn out with hunger, Wounds, and toil, was charged by the victorious Germans and either, massacred on the spot, or offered up in
fearful rites at the altars of the deities of the old mythology of the North.
A gorge in the mountain ridge, through which runs the modern toad between Paderborn and Pyrmont, leads from the spot where
the heat of the battle raged to the Extersteine, a cluster of bold and grotesque rocks of sandstone, near which is a small sheet of water,
overshadowed by a grove of aged trees. According to local tradition, this was one of the sacred groves of the ancient Germans, and it was
here that the Roman captives were slain in sacrifice by the victorious warriors of
Arminius.
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