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At Tuillemont, an English gentleman once told me he had the misfortune to sleep one night where all the people's heads were full of the Emperor, who had dined there the day before; and some wise fellow of the place wrote these lines under his picture: Ingreditur magnus magno de Cæsare Cæsar, Thenas, sub signo Cervi, sua prandia sumit.
The Gauls were caught on the cervi, impaled on the stimuli, and fell in heaps under the bolts and balls which were poured from the walls. They could make no impression, and fell back at daybreak beaten and dispirited. Vercingetorix had been unable even to pass the moats and trenches, and did not come into action till his friends had abandoned the attack.
If a charm was wanted, as by Ovid’s Medea, to prolong life, all long-lived animals, or what were esteemed such, were collected and brewed into a broth: nec defuit illic Squamea Cinyphii tenuis membrana chelydri Vivacisque jecur cervi: quibus insuper addit Ora caputque novem cornicis sæcula passæ.
There is no occasion to describe the rows of ditches, dry and wet; the staked pitfalls; the cervi, pronged instruments like the branching horns of a stag; the stimuli, barbed spikes treacherously concealed to impale the unwary and hold him fast when caught, with which the ground was sown in irregular rows; the vallus and the lorica, and all the varied contrivances of Roman engineering genius.
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