At the time of this first invasion the German race was divided into
tribes with no affinity for each other, who were indeed much of the
time in fierce conflict among themselves. One of these tribes, called
the Cherusci, occupied the southern part of what is now Hanover. Their
chief, Hermann, had in his youth been taken to Rome as a hostage, and
there had been educated.
Hermann was the first to dream of German unity. While the infant
Christ was growing into boyhood in Palestine, this Hermann was studying
Latin and history at Rome; and as he read he pondered. He found that
the Romans had achieved such tremendous power by _combination_. If his
people would unite and stand as one nation before the world, why might
not they too become great? These Romans were pleasure-loving and
vicious. His Germans in their rude homes were just and true. They did
not laugh at vice; they were rough, but simple and sincere; love bound
the father and mother and children closely together. The idea of
German unity took possession of Hermann. He resolved to devote his
life to its accomplishment, and to return to his country and try to
inspire his race with a sense of common brotherhood, and a
comprehensive patriotism.
Julius Caesar, the great Roman general, was governor of Gaul, and with
one eye fixed on Britain and another on Germany was steadily bringing
Europe into subjection to Rome.
The task of subduing the stubborn Teutons was given by Augustus to
Varus, a trusted general. In the year 9 A.D., Varus had arrived with
his great army in the heart of Germany. Little suspecting the plans
and purposes surging in the young man's brain, he leaned upon Hermann,
whom he had known in Rome, as his guide and counselor in a new and
strange land.
Unsuspectingly he marched with his heavily armed legions, as if for a
holiday excursion, into the fastnesses of the Teutoberger Forest, into
which Hermann led him.
When fairly entangled in the dense wood, surrounded by morasses and wet
marshes instead of roads, suddenly there was a thundering war-cry, and
barbarians swarmed down upon him from all sides. Hundreds who escaped
the rain of arrows were lost in the morasses. It was not a question of
victory, but of escape, for the entrapped and heavily armed legions.
Only a handful returned to tell the story, and Varus, unable to bear
his disgrace, threw himself upon his sword.
The great Emperor Augustus clothed himself in mourning, let his beard
and hair grow, and cried in the bitterness of his soul, "Varus, Varus,
give me back my legions!"
But Hermann, like many another hero, was not comprehended by the people
he wished to inspire. He had arrested the tide of Roman conquest in
Germany. How was he rewarded? His people could not understand his
dream of unity. Should they be friends with the Cimbri and Suevi, who
were their enemies? They suspected his motives. There were intrigues
for his downfall. His adored wife, Thusnelda, and his child were
delivered to the Romans and graced a triumph at Rome, and when only
thirty-seven years old, the first heroic character in the history of
Germany was assassinated by his own people.
Our Saxon ancestors, four centuries later, made the British Isles echo
with the songs in which they chanted the praises of this "War Man,"
this "Man of Hosts," who was the "Deliverer of Germany." Hermann had
not consolidated his people, but he had arrested their conquest and
subjugation by the Romans. Many, many centuries were to roll away
before his dream of unity was to be realized.
What sort of people were these ancient Germans, for whom Hermann hoped
so much almost nineteen hundred years ago?
They were pagan barbarians, without one gleam of civilization to
illumine the twilight of their existence. They had no art, no
literature, nor even an alphabet. They were fierce and cruel; but they
had simple, uncorrupted hearts. They were brave, truthful, hospitable,
romantic, with instincts singularly just, and a passion for the
mysterious realities of an unseen world. War and hunting were their
pursuits, the family and domestic ties were strong and abiding, and
over all else, religion was supreme.
Like their Scandinavian kinsmen, they worshiped the gods of their
ancient Aryan ancestors in sacred groves; and offered sacrifices,
sometimes human, to _Wotan_, and _Donar_, or _Thor_, the Thunderer, for
whom they named Thursday, Thorsday, or _Donners-tag_, and in honor of
one of their goddesses, _Freyja_, another was called Frei-tag, or
Friday. The decrees of fate were read in the flights of birds, or
heard in the neighing of wild horses, and then interpreted to the
people by priestesses, who, clad in snow-white robes, presided also at
the terrible sacrifices.