The History of the Destruction of Jerusalem

In the Parthian war, which was long and frequent and of varied fortune between the Machabaean leaders and the nation of the Medes, the grief of sacrilege gave the first incitement, because King Antiochus, surnamed the Illustrious, son of King Antiochus, when he had also joined Egypt to his empire, being lifted up in pride because uncertain wars had prospered for him, had ordered that the rites of the Hebrews be neglected, and their ministries also be profaned: and this, at the request of many of the Jews, he dared to establish. Matathias the priest could not endure this deed: nor did he alone refrain from sacrilege and refuse to obey the royal edict, but also, having come upon one of his own people sacrificing victims to idols, he ran him through with the sword.

And having gathered a band, and taken the Asidaeans into partnership, he himself with his sons killed some who violated the ancestral custom and the ordinances of the law, drove out many others, and was the author of undertaking war on the Sabbath, lest they too be deceived by a similar trick, as many of them already had been, who while refusing to take up war on the Sabbath, were overwhelmed and perished in great numbers when enemies fell upon them. Success gave him power, and the vigor of defense and piety gave him the will to persevere to the very end of life. But when he perceived that his last day was at hand, having summoned the citizens and his standing children, he exhorted them to protect the fatherland and the religion of the temple: and he left Judas Machabeus as leader, the successor of his care and solicitude for these things.

How often this man, vigorous in war, good in counsel, and foremost among the rest in readiness of faith, routed innumerable enemy forces with a small band, it is not the business of the present work to pursue. Yet it may be gathered briefly. Often enjoying favorable successes, he stirred up a great multitude of enemies against himself: surrounded on all sides by them, while he thought it shameful to yield, when his allies fled he rushed into battle. Having slain those against whom he had gone, but surrounded from the flank, though he avenged his own death, he was slain. Jonathan succeeded him, no less his equal in likeness of valor than in the kinship of nature. After many labors in matters of war, and offices in sacred matters which were witnessed and approved concerning the purification of the temple, he was shut up within the enemy's city, deceived by a pretended offer of friendship, and not long after was killed.

John also, the elder brother, and Eleazar, the younger, did not refuse death for religion, along with the rest. After these, Simon received the sum of affairs, to which he came not untried, but already proven by the triumphs of the brotherly partnership. Would that he too had been as sharp in guarding against fraud as he was strong of hand and well tested in the arts of war. For when by the strength of his valor he had made a league of friendship with Roman leaders and the kings of the nations, by the treachery of Ptolemy, his son-in-law, he was invited to a banquet, and there, amid the tables and cups, together with his two sons who were present, he was surrounded, stripped of his arms, and impiously put to death. Certainly John, born of Simon, surnamed Hyrcanus, forestalled the plots, and hastened to the walls of a neighboring city, where he was awaited by the people on account of his father's outstanding merits, and also out of hatred for the hostile crime.

He had scarcely entered the city when Ptolemy was already at hand. But when he wished to enter by another gate, he was repulsed, and thought it best to yield to the multitude. Jonathan at once assumed his father's priestly office, and having gone forth to the worship of divine things, immediately carried out the duties of piety and the care of preserving family ties, wishing to remove his mother and brothers from danger. Having become superior in engagement, he was overcome by the feeling of just suffering, so that he could not gain possession of the fortress in which they were held shut up. For Ptolemy, when he saw himself pressed, placed his mother and brothers on the walls to be cast down at once, unless Jonathan desisted from the war he was waging. The young man, who was overcoming by the taking-up of courage, was overcome by fear for piety, and he called back the anger roused against the enemy through pity for his own.

Yet his mother, ready for the torments, stretched out her hands, beseeching not the aid of safety, but the solace of vengeance. For she feared lest her son should fear more for his mother than expend himself for his father's vengeance: that her death would be for her in place of immortality, by which her husband would be avenged, and the impious son-in-law would pay the penalty for his monstrous crime. But the young man fought more within himself than against the enemy. For as often as he thought of his father, he was inflamed. Again, when he saw his mother being beaten and prepared for death, he strove to act: he called back his advance, retreated a step, because passion held him back. During the delays of the siege, made a holiday by the law, the seventh year, which had come, intervened. Piety yielded to religion, the siege was lifted: but by this the savagery of Ptolemy was all the more roused, so that he ordered those slain by whose objection he had escaped punishment.

He at once removed himself from vengeance, fleeing to Zeno, surnamed Cotia, king of Philadelphia, that he might be protected by his help. Nor did Antiochus rest, who was indignant that his armies had been made a mockery by Simon, the father of Jonathan; and wishing still to extinguish the rising firstfruits of Jonathan, coming with a great force to Jerusalem, he besieged Hyrcanus. Hyrcanus repelled with gold what he could not with steel, and having opened (as Josephus tells) the tomb of David, he dug out three thousand talents of gold. Of these he counted out three hundred to Antiochus, that he might abandon the siege, that he might depart bought off by the price. And to lessen the odium of the deed, Hyrcanus is said to have been the first to establish hostels with that money, by which he might receive poor travelers on their arrival. Also seizing on Antiochus's necessity, when he was waging war against the Medes, he avenged the loss: and he added very many cities of Syria to himself.

He also surrounded Samaria, where Sebastia was afterward founded, with fortifications, and entrusted its capture to his sons Aristobulus and Antigonus. Their siege, drawn out, reduced those shut in, through dreadful famine and the foul nourishment of human corpses. Driven by this necessity, thinking they should seek help from Antiochus (surnamed Aspondius), they involved themselves in partnership with one who brought help to their calamity. For, defeated by the brothers in battle, he saved himself by flight from death. The Samaritans, however, on the siege being renewed, and the city captured and overthrown, were given over to servitude. Excited by this successful course of affairs, Aristobulus and Antigonus did not slacken their advance, but thought it should by no means be concealed that they meant to join to themselves the neighboring peoples, compelled by war; until, envy having arisen, an immense war blazed up, the inhabitants of the region conspiring, and a strong force gathered. This, however, being defeated, gave John a deep tranquility for the remainder, and leisure to himself.

Hyrcanus, having enjoyed the grace of long peace for thirty-one years, closed his last day, leaving five children surviving, which is accounted by many a blessing: an excellent governor, and beautifully sober, who never let any of his acts be obscured even by chance events; he committed the highest affairs to his wife, thinking her more prudent for governing public affairs, holding his sons back by a kind of foreknowledge of mind as not likely to be long-lasting; nor did his opinion deceive him. For indeed Aristobulus, who among the brothers had the more advanced age and the readier mind, turned the headship of the priesthood into the power of a kingdom, and was the first to presume to set a diadem upon himself: this after four hundred seventy-five years and the course of three months, from when Israel, returning from Babylon, freed of servitude, betook himself to his own land.

Proudly, therefore, and not content to give a share to his other brothers, he flattered only Antigonus with a semblance of honor, whom he seemed to love. His mother (because she had complained that she was excluded from power and cheated of her husband's judgment) he bound in chains, and proceeded so far in savagery, fierce with a parricidal spirit, that he kept both her and his brothers similarly bound in close custody, so that they were driven almost to the point of death by extreme hunger, had not Aristobulus more quickly paid the wages of his wicked parricide: and first his fierce spirit was exasperated against Antigonus himself, and turned from love to hatred, so that he killed before all others the one he had promised as sole partner of his rule: so cheap is affection among the wicked, that it is quickly wrenched away by depraved suggestions.

It is fitting, therefore, that we should not pass over the sequence of his cruelty, so that the judgment of John may be proved even after his death, who by no means thought that the sum of public affairs should be entrusted to the elder son, whom he foresaw would decline so far by such fury from the law of piety and the norm of justice. I do not know whether it was from consideration of his character, or from a grace inborn in the princes of the priests, that certain things which were to come were poured even into those less worthy. It was a pitiable crime, that brothers should envy the love of nature: from there arose the first stain of evil: contrivances of envy of this sort followed.

They had at first composed other charges, to which Aristobulus gave no credence, and he softened the detraction out of the grace of affection, attributing the bitterness of the accusation to envy. Therefore they mixed false things with true, so that from those things which they had assumed for the appearance of truth, they might ensnare him even as he resisted.

Meanwhile the Scenopegia (Feast of Tabernacles) of the Jews was being celebrated in the land according to the law, a festive day, that is, and full of reverence, on which a solemn sacrifice was offered. On that day Antigonus, distinguished by military exploits, returns home, and it happened that on his arrival he found his brother unwell; at once, to the temple—for what should he prefer to religion?—girt as he was in warlike attire, and surrounded by an escort of the like, he heads there: much there did he pray to the Lord for his brother's health, and thence he hastens diligently to his brother. From this a calumny is composed out of bitter gall, and prepared for an even more bitter end.

For immediately most wicked men approach the king, stirring up envy, saying that he had directed a pomp of armed men for the celebration, which is the custom for private persons, so that it would be a spectacle for the common people, lest anyone dare to oppose his undertakings. With such preparation, nothing else was intended but the death of the king, and the ambition to usurp the power of the empire. Not with difficulty was his sick mind, wearied by a weak body, driven to consider credible what was asserted as true: especially since the day, consecrated to religion, excluded suspicion of a lie, the pomp aroused envy, his infirmity added fear, and the cohort of armed men filled him with confidence that the crime could be carried out. And so, before any attempt of parricidal crime had been proved to him, he orders his guards with their arms to be stationed in a dark underground passage, to kill Antigonus by treachery as he arrived, not waiting for the king's command, but to destroy him themselves.

Indeed, a message having been sent ahead by messengers, that he should come unarmed, his wife, married to Aristobulus, changed the character of the message to the opposite, so that through those same conspirators she caused it to be suggested to Antigonus that his brother had been delighted by the splendor of the arms with which he had recently been girt when present, but through illness had not considered them closely enough: now he asked that all that warlike array which he had assembled for himself be brought to his brother; this would be pleasing to the king, if he came armed. Antigonus did not foresee the trick: he obeyed the word all the more eagerly, the more he desired to please the king and his brother alike: Aristobulus was lying ill in the fortress, first called Baris, afterward Antonia—namely from Antony the triumvir's gift and naming, together with the dignity of the city.

When Antigonus approached there, and came to that dark passage, the royal guards, seeing that he had come armed, suddenly attacked the young man, fulfilling the command, and overwhelmed him unaware. That place was called the Tower of Straton, by which name Judas, who was of the Essene race, was, according to frequent opinion, deceived: of whom old history has recorded that, whether by the uprightness of his life or by mystical observation, he had often announced things that were to come.

He, as we have received, when he had seen Antigonus passing by to visit his brother, said to those who were reckoned among the number of his disciples: Alas! Now it is good for me to die, since truth is dead to me: Antigonus lives, who must be slain today, and the place decreed for his death is the Tower of Strato, which is six hundred stadia distant from here: it is now the fourth hour of the day. Thus the credibility of the predestined death is excluded by time. When he had said these things, he began more earnestly to consider within himself how his expectation had deceived him. Not long after, word was brought that Antigonus had been killed in an underground chamber at the Tower of Strato, a place which, by a similarly named designation, was accustomed to be called the same as that which was on the coast of Caesarea. When this deed had been accomplished, Aristobulus, reflecting within himself what a crime he had committed, himself fell into sickness.

The parricide was before his eyes, there was turmoil in his soul, nor did he give any interval elsewhere to dissimulation. Grief was fixed deep in his innermost being: his envy was turned into pity, because he had destroyed an innocent man contrary to the law of brotherhood: the enormity of so great a crime ulcerated his mind: sleep was not granted to his eyes, nor rest to his soul. The wound crept on with blind pain, his sick vitals were consumed, and harsh anxieties wounded his weakened limbs, and with frequent groaning his sighs beat forth, exceedingly deep.

And so, with unrestrained sorrow, the force of the disease broke out to such a degree that, with his vitals torn out, he cast up blood by vomiting from his mouth: which a court page, performing his royal service, carried outside, and, unaware of the deed—since it happened rather by chance than by design—came to that place in which Antigonus had been slain; there, upon the still-dripping stains of his brother's blood, he poured out the blood of the murderer. A cry suddenly arose, and a groan from those who beheld it, because by a certain deep disposition of the Lord the blood of the most wicked parricide, once slain, seemed to be poured out as a libation. Roused by the sound, he asked the reason; when they were silent, he drew it out by his eagerness to inquire and by fear of his displeasure.

When he had received this report, with his eyes suffused with tears, and, as far as there was any virtue in him, groaning, he said: A fitting requital is not rendered to my deserts: for the eye of God does not overlook so impious a contriver of crime. A timely vengeance for the wickedness is at hand, and now I am approaching the worthy price of my parricide. Farewell, body: how long do you detain a soul condemned by brother and mother? Why do I offer them my blood by portions? Let every hand (if there be any piety) turn its weapon upon me, and let all my sons and kinsmen, as avengers of piety, pierce me through with the sword. Let the parricidal victim be sacrificed, and offered up to the violated bond of kinship: let this guilty flesh vomit forth all its blood at once. Let not the demon that drove me to so nefarious a daring of savage crime be sated by the torments and slow wasting of my vitals.

Having said these things, he put an end to his rule and his life. He had scarcely held royal power for a year, on account of which he had not escaped parricide.

The woman immediately freed and released the deceased man's brothers from their chains: she appointed Alexander king, for whom both his mature age and his moderation were reckoned to speak in his favor. When he had obtained the kingdom, he immediately killed the brother whom he had perceived as a rival for the kingdom. The remaining one of his brothers, who was intent rather on life and safety than on the kingdom, he spared, free from involvement in affairs: and forthwith (as the restlessness of character has it) he exchanged peace for war. And having joined battle against Ptolemy Lathyrus, he indeed killed very many of the enemy, but the victory fell to Lathyrus. Yet Cleopatra, his mother, forced to withdraw into Egypt to escape the death threatening her, deprived him of the fruit of that victory. Alexander, seizing upon her absence, while he desired to invade parts of her kingdom, also turned against Theodorus, since he had joined to himself the most important of his possessions.

And so by an unexpected attack Theodorus seized the royal wealth, and also routed ten thousand Jews in battle; but Alexander, not broken by the blow, still added more from the enemy's territories to his own dominion, and subjected the peoples of the captured cities to servitude. These successes in warfare were interrupted by domestic sedition, and a dispute arising from banquets proceeded all the way to war. Such is the familiar plague among the men of the Jews, that they rouse themselves to arms from the sport of feasting, and had not foreign aid been at hand for the king, the sedition would have prevailed. But it was suppressed, though with difficulty, by the auxiliary force, with about eight thousand Hebrews slain; thence he directed his march into Arabia, and several of its cities were subdued; tribute was also imposed by right of victory upon the Moabites and Gileadites. Returning from there to Amathus, finding the stronghold empty of defenders—Theodorus being stupefied by his great successes—he stormed it without delay.

Yet Obedas, king of the Arabs, was not altogether idle, nor did he long suffer unavenged the losses of his kingdom. For, having opportunely set ambushes, he destroyed his whole army, hemmed in and crushed in a deep valley by a great line of camels. Yet Alexander escaped, and fleeing from the battle, sought the shelter of the city of Jerusalem, hated by his own people because their grievances had broken out afresh on this occasion, since they were oppressed by fear of so great a power. Nor was the discord of minds concealed in silence, nor was it carried on only in words; it was fought out not in one battle, but in many. In these nearly fifty thousand Jews were destroyed whom Alexander slew, more ruinous to his own people than to his enemies, and a victor with greater loss, since by conquering he had worn down the strength of his own kingdom.

Whence not even he himself any longer took delight in his victories, and, averse to battle, he dealt craftily with his subjects, so that he no longer pressed them with arms, but urged them with words, and sought to dissolve the various kinds of offenses by speech alone. He gained nothing toward winning favor for himself, since his crimes outweighed his pretenses, and the very suddenness of his conversion to repentance, along with the harsh unevenness of his character, was everywhere held in suspicion.

At length, when they thought themselves being circumvented by his feigned gentleness, they stirred up King Demetrius to war as an aid against Alexander. The battle was at hand, and not deferred, although he alone had to contend against two armies inferior in number. For, accompanied by a thousand horsemen and six thousand foot soldiers whom he had hired for pay, and calling to war ten thousand Jews conspiring with him, he met the enemy near the city of Shechem, who had three thousand horsemen and forty thousand foot. And when the battle line had been tried on both sides, since Demetrius saw that those hired for pay did not desert their loyalty, nor did Alexander perceive that any of the Jews whom Demetrius had joined to himself had laid aside their hatred toward him, they judged that it must be decided by arms. Demetrius proved superior in the battle, yet at the cost of much of his men's blood.

For those who had come hired for pay from the opposing side fought so excellently that they contended even unto death with valor and loyalty. Alexander, therefore, seeing himself abandoned, with the ranks of his men cut down, withdrew into the mountains. But contrary to the expectation of both, the appearance of victory came to one of them, while the fruit of it was borne to the other: for Demetrius was stripped by the departure of the Hebrews who had asked him for alliance, and six thousand of these had joined themselves to Alexander, in accordance with a certain law of human nature that lends assent to mercy in adverse circumstances. And so Demetrius yielded to him whom he had conquered in war, seeing him now, with Hebrews gradually flowing to him, fit for battle, and himself left with few. His victory stirred up the fear of condemnation in those accustomed to liberty. Cruelty returned to Alexander along with security, and both the kingdom over his subjects and the practice of war were reestablished.

When he asked them what he should do to win over the hearts of the people to himself, the answer was: if he should die. For it would scarcely be that, once he was dead, they, having suffered such grievous things, would be reconciled, so as to lay aside their hatred against the deceased. Roused by this, and by their habit of rebelling, having slain many, he forced the rest into a city named Bethome. Its storming brought a plague more bitter than usual, with so savage a course of cruelty that out of that number he crucified eight hundred in the middle of the city. In their sight he ordered their wives and children to be slaughtered.

These things he watched, reclining in the midst of his concubines, joyful amid food and cups, but drunk more with blood than with wine: by this deed alone he terrified the people more than by war, so that on the following night eight thousand Jews withdrew beyond Judea, for whom the end of their flight would be the death of Alexander: and the horror of so great an evil brought quiet to the kingdom. But when, once he had ceased from domestic conflicts, a cause of unrest arose for him—the expedition of Antiochus against the Arabs, which he judged would be terrible to himself and fraught with danger. This is the Antiochus who is also called Dionysus, the last brother of Demetrius by Seleucus, to whom Alexander, wishing to deny passage, having drawn great trenches between the city of Antipatris and the shores of Joppa, and a very high wall, with towers also of wood set upon it, mocked the great labor of his own men, with no hindrance from the enemy.

For indeed, by an easy operation, the trenches were filled in, the towers burned, and Alexander himself took counsel for his own safety in flight, all the safer because he was not reckoned of such importance that the victor should think it fitting to pursue him as a foremost enemy. For it was reserved for a second occasion, that he might avenge the injury received from the obstructed march. He directed his march straight against the Arabs, whose king had betaken himself to places favorable for battle. Then, suddenly wheeling his cavalry about with very great force and numbers, they attacked the enemy's squadrons, poured out and rushing without order. The fight was fierce, so long as Antiochus stood firm (for he resisted), although his army was being cut down as if it were a flock of cattle.

But when he himself fell (for he was accustomed to expose himself to dangers beyond the rest), all were routed, the greatest part of whom perished, scattered in uncertain flight, the rest being driven together into a village called Cana, and, their provisions being consumed by want, very few indeed of these survived so great a disaster.

By this success Aretas was also sought after by the Damascenes for kingship, that he might rule over Coele-Syria, so that they might exclude Ptolemy, whom they pursued with the most hostile hatred, nor did he leave Judea free from incursion; from which, victor though he was, although Alexander was overcome, he nevertheless withdrew according to the agreement of both sides, and returned to his own territory. But Alexander overthrew Pella, and made for Gerasa, again preparing to join to himself some of Theodorus's possessions, and he claimed it for himself by war. Thence proceeding into Syria, he overthrew Golan and Seleucia and Gamala, avenging the insult of the earlier war, and destroyed the very fortifications of Antiochus as well.

From these places he turned his march into Judea, and, beyond expectation, was received with joy by the whole nation because of the wondrous success of his exploits: where the quiet gained from warfare gave rise to the beginning of illness, and, somewhat affected by recurring attacks of quartan fevers, his discomfort having eased a little, while he resumed military affairs and kept no measure, being stronger in spirit than in body, he wore down all the vigor of his health and consumed his strength, and so he died.

For twenty-six years, then, amid the varied outcome of affairs and against countless tumults of wars, he held the kingdom, and, with two children surviving, he died, and, judging them unequal to the helm of the kingdom, he entrusted the sum of affairs to the care of his own wife, since he knew her to be more acceptable to the people; and that she had found favor with all on this account, that she herself had always taken care to keep herself apart from the savagery of her husband, so that she not only shunned complicity in his crimes, but also, by resisting his iniquities, turned the goodwill of the whole people toward herself. Nor was her husband's judgment lacking in foresight: for the woman exercised the right of ruling without offense, with no hindrance from her female sex, and gained the favor of governing by observance of the sacred law.

For while more attentive care was exercised regarding the temple, and the dismissed offices of fraud, the vigor of rule increased, yet the desire for the kingdom was not weakened by maternal affection. For of the two children, one was chosen for the hope of ruling, not for power—Hyrcanus by name, older in age, milder in disposition; but Aristobulus, sharper in spirit and without a share in power, she softened by the humility of private life. The Pharisees attached themselves to the woman, a class of men trained according to the teaching of the law, shrewd according to the quality of their disposition, eager for business, greedy for money, who, catching hold of the elated little woman, by exalting their own knowledge of divine law, brought it about that she entrusted to them even most of the affairs of the kingdom; that they should employ whom they wished; exclude whom they wished; and strip of court office whom they wished. What more?

They so insinuated themselves that the fruits of all advantages came to them; the expenses and troubles afflicted the woman alone. Nor was the woman's spirit mean, so that she dared the greatest things, and arranged battles beyond the condition of the female sex. For she both prepared the most excellent band of her own men, and gathered together immense forces of a foreign army, so that she might not only be safe at home for the entire security of her rule, but might also be formidable to foreign powers. Yet, while she excelled all others, she obeyed the Pharisees as though inferior to them. There was in her kingdom one Diogenes, who had clung in intimacy to Alexander as one of his most powerful friends: him they attacked and cut down, recalling that by his counsel those eight hundred had been crucified in the middle of the city by Alexander; and it was decreed that vengeance should proceed also against the other authors of that deed.

And so those were being put to death whom the Pharisees prescribed, not those whom complicity in the crime had implicated. Terrified by this fear, very many upon whom such dangers were being brought, and especially those most eminent in wealth or dignity, implored Aristobulus's intercession, that he might turn his mother from the execution of so severe a decree toward gentler measures. He, wishing to win favor for himself, did not refuse. The woman, though reluctantly, yet yielded to her son's entreaty, that, out of regard for the honors which they had held, those who were being drawn into such odium should have the sentence of supreme death mitigated, and that she should order only those whom she suspected as guilty, and as instigators of the perpetrated crime, to leave the city. These, having obtained security for their lives, dispersed throughout the countryside.

At the same time it happened that the youth were sent to Damascus, since Ptolemy was terrifying the inhabitants of that city with frequent incursions; the necessity of this business occupied a strong band from the army of Alexandria. Tigranes also, who ruled over the Armenians, had shut Cleopatra up in a siege in the city called Ptolemais, whom Alexandra was soothing with gifts, that he might be turned away from her. Lucullus, having made an incursion into the lands of the Armenians, forced him to return with his business unfinished, since he thought it more prudent to protect his own possessions than to add those of others. Alexandra, therefore, intent on such great affairs, fell into illness.

Aristobulus seized this occasion for his own devices; and having gathered a band, with those conspiring with him whom the heat of nature had joined to one desiring to dare every rash thing, he seizes the treasuries, and with their resources invited volunteers to service and won them over with pay, so that they would pledge fidelity to him in all that he wished, and he put on the royal insignia. Hyrcanus, troubled in mind, approached his mother with tears. But she, breathing fierceness, shut up the sons and wife of Aristobulus in the fortress called at first Baris, afterward named Antonia, which we mentioned above. The undertakings of Alexandra were cut short by her swift death. Hyrcanus succeeded to the whole inheritance, who while his mother still lived had already put on the dignity of the priesthood. Aristobulus excelled in courage and wisdom: the matter was brought to contention and to armed conflict: when it came to blows, most, abandoning Hyrcanus, followed the other, who was superior in war.

Hyrcanus, accompanied by those who remained to him from the war, fled to Antonia, and having found the sons and wife of Aristobulus, found safety through hostages, since Aristobulus, by agreement, took care that nothing harsh should be done against his own. The agreement of the brothers was of this kind: that Hyrcanus should yield the kingdom, and that the whole right of rule should pass to Aristobulus, yet he should not leave Hyrcanus without honor, but allow him, excluded from the kingdom, to hold another honor, which he himself would bestow. This transaction, consecrated also by the religion of the temple, held the voluntary assent of both: thence they parted with goodwill, and greeting one another, Aristobulus withdrew into the royal palace, Hyrcanus with equanimity went into the house of Aristobulus.

But there were those whom fear and the change of affairs had troubled, who recalled that they had zealously opposed Aristobulus, and Antipater above the rest: he was of Idumean stock, famous among his people for his manners, of no small wealth, and therefore of very great power, made by a wonderful art to despise money for the sake of gaining favor.

He, seeing Hyrcanus terrified by his own counsels, since he had no safe hope of safety, one who had left rule unless he took counsel for himself by flight, when he inclined to his own devices, insinuates to King Aretas that he ought to aid with help the man who had been circumvented, that he might yield the kingdom; that this would be fitting for the king, if he became the arbiter of restoring the rule; and much more glorious, if, after the one to whom the primitive right of the kingdom belonged had been defrauded by deceit, he should order it to be restored: that the other was crafty and cunning, and therefore suspected by his neighbors: this one mild and quiet, who would receive as the greatest benefit whatever should be granted to him by a foreigner, he to whom even his brother had taken away the right of ruling.

Announcing therefore to Hyrcanus the favor of King Aretas thus prepared, he brought hope of flight, and showed the way, that he should seek with him Petra, situated in the borders of Arabia, in which place they might approach the king: who, moved by the prayers and gifts of Antipater, added a very large band of warriors to Hyrcanus, that he might be restored to the kingdom. There were about fifty thousand foot and horse, by whom Aristobulus, driven back at the first engagement, fled to Jerusalem, and there, unsafe against so great a multitude of enemies, which would have taken the besieged city, had not Scaurus, leader of the Roman army, on the occasion of another war which was being waged against Tigranes, raised the siege, sent by Pompey, in whom the vengeance for Mithridates received burned severely, and the purpose of transferring the war against his father-in-law; for which cause he had ordered Syria to be harassed through Scaurus, while he himself pressed upon Tigranes and Armenia.

To Scaurus therefore, as he arrived at Damascus, which Metellus and Lollius had utterly overthrown, the envoys of the brothers came to meet him, each imploring for himself the aid of Roman help; and although Aristobulus was of lesser strength, he nevertheless prevailed by the offering of money. The whole issue of the contest is sold for three hundred talents, and the justice of the request is weighed by the price. That money having been paid to him, Scaurus announces to Hyrcanus and to the king of Arabia to withdraw from the siege, or if they remained, let them know that they would have to contend in war against Pompey and the Romans. By that terror the siege was lifted: Aretas made for Philadelphia, Scaurus returned to Damascus.

But Aristobulus, scarcely yet able to ward off danger, gathers a band, pursues the enemy, and at Papyron (that is the name of the place) routed in battle six thousand of the enemy, and at the same time the brother of Antipater, Phallion; the hope of Hyrcanus and Antipater fell, whose whole confidence was in the forces of Arabia.

But when great Pompey began to approach Syria, and arrived at Damascus, they, broken by the aid of the Romans, having lost victory from their hands, demand help, and approach Pompey, as a just arbiter and by no means covetous of money. They began therefore to rely on pleas, not on gifts (as before): since his uncorrupted spirit was not to be caught by the snares of avarice against bribery, and he could freely hate one who had schemed against a brother's honor: and therefore they assailed him with these complaints, by which envy might arise against Aristobulus, that he unworthily had seized what belonged to another, and favor might be won for Hyrcanus, to whom, whether by the merit of his life or by the claim of age, the right of ruling belonged, especially with the authority of the mother concurring, who had both the judgment of choosing and the right of conferring.

Nor was Aristobulus long absent, although he saw nothing in that great heart that would serve his devices: he presumed, however, on the ransom paid to Scaurus, and boasted of his alliance with him. He came therefore adorned with royal splendor, and attended by a retinue almost greater than usual, so that, being at variance with justice, he might exclude any presumption of compliance, and deny hope of obedience: but he could not long endure the loftiness of the Roman consul, whose custom it was to command kings arising from a kingdom. And so when they came to the city called Diospolis, he withdrew elsewhere, disdaining the haughtiness of Roman dignity in the swelling pride of kingship. By this withdrawal of Aristobulus, no small occasion of offense was given, so much so that the consul, being moved, at once turned the arms of the Romans against Judea; many auxiliaries of Syria also being joined.

When Aristobulus learned that he was approaching the city Scythopolis and thence Coreae, whence was the beginning of the possession of Judea, he fled into Alexandrium, a fortress very strongly fortified, and situated on a very high mountain. Learning this, Pompey orders him to come down: but he, thinking it unbecoming to obey as if by a master's command, being immoderate in spirit, judged it better to undergo danger than to yield to the command.

But looking down from above upon the Roman camp filled with peoples, and at the same time being warned by his own people that those were not to be provoked into whose name and power almost the whole world had yielded, he came down, and using many arguments by which he tried to establish that the kingdom had been rightly conferred upon him, whether by the necessity due to birth, or by the judgment of the army, which had followed the stronger and had deserted the coward: whether by the outcome of the battle or by the agreement of a covenant, he returns to the fortification. Again when Hyrcanus had approached the consul, Aristobulus, summoned to judgment, presented himself. But when he still saw the inquiry being postponed, he returned into the fortress. For, midway between hope and fear, he thought that by obeying his commands he would incline Pompey to his favor. But lest he be forced by violence again to yield to command, he withdrew into Alexandrium.

Nor did the king's craftiness escape the Great one; he orders him to leave the fortifications: and that he would bind himself to do this, having given letters to each of the guards of the fortifications. He indeed obeyed the orders, which he did not dare to refuse: yet he immediately hid himself within the walls of Jerusalem, and began to prepare war against the Romans. Pompey too pursued the fugitive, pressed the besieged, and gave no time for preparing the necessities of war. A messenger concerning Mithridates directed the attention of the Great one, that he had ended the war by death. The city Jericho in its neighboring territory held Pompey, when reports of this matter came: a place near the city, in which balsam is produced, and grows on shrubs, which the children of the farmers cut with stones, and through these incisions a liquid drips, beautifully dewing with tears.

Thence the man, veteran of warfare, with his ranks arranged, moved camp toward evening, and at first light stood before the walls of Jerusalem, and unexpectedly poured in armed lines.

Aristobulus, stunned by the sight of the disposition, the strength of the men, the eagerness of the soldiers, came forward of his own accord, begs pardon, offering money, the city, and himself. And by soft, suppliant words he had softened the indignation of the consul; but the entreaty was in vain, because the fulfillment of the promise was lacking, for not only was the money refused, but Gabinius, who had come to seek what was offered, was also shut out from the city, and he set his mind on war. For the Great one, having set guards over Aristobulus, began to survey the walls of the city, and to examine more diligently in what places he might attempt an assault.

But since he saw both the walls to be strong, so that they could not be taken by storm, and the temple in the city surrounded by fortifications no less strong, and that the danger of entry would be twofold, both from the defenders of the temple and from those who guarded the ramparts of the walls, he hesitated in mind, doubtful and uncertain in his judgment for some time, when suddenly a sedition arose within the city, the partisans of Hyrcanus wishing to receive Pompey into the city, the defenders of Aristobulus resisting; the former to open the gates to the Great one, the latter to bar them, and to wage war, lest they should snatch away their king. But the greater number, whom the terror of Roman power had emboldened, the lesser yielded, and withdrew into the temple, the bridge being broken which had joined the city and the temple by a passable crossing between them.

The Roman army therefore was received into the city, and the Jews with their own hands opened the gates, not long before they themselves would be the conquerors of the city and the temple. And that word of David was fulfilled: O God, the nations have come into Thy inheritance, they have defiled Thy holy temple. Of their own accord, then, they handed over their royal possessions, they yielded to the courtiers. To Piso, a man famous among his own and trained in military service, this business was entrusted, that with a strong band he should see to the guarding of the royal palace and the rest of the city: which was so carefully carried out by him, that he seemed to have led the Roman army rather to defend these things than to seize them.

But for the assault on the temple, since resistance was stubborn, Pompey prepared the Jews as allies, namely those of Hyrcanus, so that, if it could be done, the Romans should not profane a foreign mystery: at the same time so that the Jews with their own hands should fill up the trenches, their hands served an impious ministry and a shameful obedience, their hands in the basket, their minds in sacrilege: but the heaping up availed nothing, since Aristobulus' partisans resisted from the walls, and cast down hindrance from above: and Pompey's beginnings would have been in vain, had not the sacred days of their religion intervened, on which, by ancient observance, the Jews were bound to abstain from all work, and he had ordered his men to press on with heaping up mounds of earth: for only the taking up of arms in engagement has passed into custom, even on the Sabbath, if indeed battle should be joined and the extreme peril of safety be sought, the Jews think they must decide by the sword: other contests they regard as belonging to religion.

Now the rampart had grown up, now the machines had been brought up, the royal partisans resisted, made fiercer by the height of the walls, nor, when engaged in battle, were they bent by the closer approach of the Great one. Pompey was astonished at the fierce spirits of the men, the beauty and greatness of the wall, and the never-remitted duties of the priests in the midst of the fury of war: as though it were profound peace, nothing was lacking to the solemnity of the sacrifices; amid javelins and the deaths of the slain, unwarlike men, the blood of victims was poured out. The victim was placed upon the altars, those stationed before the altar were struck down. Already the third month held the contest still undecided.

First Sulla's son Cornelius, Faustus, and two centurions, of whom one was named Furius, the other Fabius, the earth of the walls having been thrown down, broke into the temple, each followed by his own bands, and surrounding the interior of the temple on every side, whomever they found they ran through with their swords; those fleeing were slain, others resisting were cut down. There was no measure of sparing, yet not even by that savagery of the warring men were the services of the priests hindered. With drawn swords the enemy threatened: yet they, without any disturbance, carried out their turn of duty as usual. No kind of office was omitted. Whatever could pertain to the solemnity of purification, whatever to the observance of the sacred worship, was fulfilled. So great was the care of ministry: and would that it had been for the truth of devotion and faith!

Greater dangers also arose from their own people than were inflicted upon each other by the Hebrews, and within the fighting was more fierce, and from the seditious the danger was nearer and more doubtful: from the front the foreign enemy, from the rear and the sides the domestic one.

And so, hemmed in on every side, some hurled themselves down, others were burned up in the fires of their homeland. Yet the priests persevered in their office to the very last, exhorting one another not to set the office of religion behind the safeguard of safety: that it would be rightly done with them if they should spend on piety what was owed to necessity, and that it would be most fitting if they were permitted to be buried in the bosom of their homeland. What indeed would it profit to escape, and to survive as one outliving religion itself? Rather it was a most glorious deed to die together with the sacred office. But if anyone should desert it out of fear of danger, that is sacrilege; if anyone should fulfill it, that is sacrifice and the victory of a pious passion. And so the priests, wearing their fillets, were slain among their own victims, and, clothed in their priestly stoles, lay on the ground among the corpses of the slain.

There twelve thousand Jews were slaughtered; few of the Romans were killed, though more were wounded. Yet in that misery the Jews groaned over nothing more grievously than that those mysteries of sanctification, hidden before, were uncovered and made manifest to the Gentiles. Finally Pompey, declining superfluous cares of this kind, while he preferred rather to seek the ashes for his triumph, with very many of his own men following him, saw the tabernacle—that is, the second one, which alone lay open to the high priest by solemn access—and looked inside at the lamp, and the table, and the incense, and the tablets of the Testament, and above them the Cherubim, and a great quantity of scattered spices, and two thousand talents of sacred money: among which, though there was very much gold, yet, wholly free from all covetousness, he ordered that these things—or whatever sacred vessels were found—be kept untouched. And on the day following the destruction, Theocorus ordered the inner parts of the temple to be purified, and the customary sacrifices to be celebrated.

He also gave the high priesthood to Hyrcanus, having made use of his ready service in the necessity of the siege: for although unfaithful to his own people, he was nevertheless faithful to the Romans, so that his own homeland was stormed. But I think no one can be called faithful who has been envious of his own. Not idly, then, did he assist the enemies of his own people even in the battle itself, or in that he withdrew from Aristobulus's cause the multitude of the people outside the walls who were striving on Aristobulus's behalf: yet in all things—whether in forestalling Aristobulus and leading him by his own authority, or in bringing the war to a swift conclusion—Pompey was an outstanding commander. This glorious thing he added, that he kept moderation in victory: in the end, he attached to himself, more by kindness than by terror, those whom he had conquered, and put to death by the axe only the instigators of the war.

He also imposed tribute on the vanquished, established a ruler, and fixed the boundaries of Judea. So Judea was confined within its own borders: he also restored Gadara, which the Jews had destroyed, at the request of Demetrius, who had asked this favor of his patron for his own homeland; and in this matter, as in very many others, he stood out among the freedmen of Pompey the Great beyond measure, even to the point of envy. But Aristobulus, together with his sons and his father-in-law, he decided to lead to Rome as captives; but one of the royal offspring escaped the guards on the journey and returned home; his name was Alexander, older in age than his brother, and there were two sisters. But Antigonus, younger in age, was led to the city together with his sisters of the female sex, and Pompey made for Cilicia, and then for Rome.

But in Syria, Scaurus, who held the office of commander, having recovered the cities which the Jews had invaded in the inland regions—Scythopolis, Hippos, Pella, Samaria, Jamnia, Mirisa, Azotus, Arethusa; and also the maritime cities, Gaza, Joppa, Dora, and that which was once called the Tower of Strato, but afterward, under the rule of Herod (who both added ornament to it and changed its name), was called Caesarea—was preparing a war against the Arabs, keeping Judea between the Euphrates and Egypt, and Syria too, restored within its own borders, in check by his judgment, and driven by a desire for plunder—which I think rather than for extending empire; wishing to invade Petra, the chief city of the kingdom of Arabia, he was indeed hindered by the difficulty of the terrain and could not break through; nevertheless he laid waste many places, whether near to the city or set far off, in which places famine had assailed his lingering army; and a most wretched disaster would almost have befallen them, had not Hyrcanus, through Antipater, supplied provisions to the struggling Romans; and the same man, on Scaurus's advice, had persuaded Aretas to buy off the war with money.

In the end, for three hundred talents the Arab freed himself of the enemy and ransomed Scaurus: this was the price of his withdrawal. This affair confirmed Hyrcanus's loyalty with the Romans, and fostered alliance and security through a deep peace; because in hostile places, for the Roman army, through his effort, out of grave want there came a full supply of grain, and aid was at hand.

But when Alexander, having escaped from the chains of Pompey the Great, first secretly, and for some time gathering a force fit for himself, then began openly to range over Judea: Hyrcanus was thrown into agitation, and distrusted his own affairs: care pressed upon the Romans lest the war should grow; indeed he had even resolved to rebuild the wall at Jerusalem which Pompey had destroyed; and he had almost undertaken the work, had not Gabinius, who succeeded Scaurus, having vigorously attended to other matters by which he had spread the terror of his name, judged it necessary to meet Alexander's attempts. Nor did Alexander think he should flee, but dared to decide the matter by battle with ten thousand foot and fifteen hundred horse; he also repaired the fortresses—Alexandrium, Hyrcanium, Macherus—to serve as a refuge for himself (should the situation demand it), or as a hindrance to the enemy, since Arabia too, being near, was not sufficiently loyal to the Romans.

Gabinius, in order to come more quickly, sent Marcus Antonius ahead with part of the army, so that the march of the enemy might be hindered, until he himself should arrive with the whole force. Antipater, arriving with chosen men, and Malichus and Pitholaus, supported by various companies of Jews, joined their forces with Antony; when Alexander saw them massed together (for Gabinius too was now present), he changed his plan, so as to fall back. But when they were now not far from Jerusalem, being forced to join battle, he was defeated and fled, nearly three thousand of his men being slain, the rest captured or scattered; scarcely a few survived to Alexander, more for the fellowship of flight than for the boldness of rebellion. At last, seeking peace from Gabinius, he even handed over the fortresses to the Romans, lest they harbor any suspicion. In that war the valor of Antony shone out remarkably, although he had given outstanding proof of his courage everywhere.

Gabinius divided Judea into five districts, so as to diminish its power, from which a greater insolence of affairs was arising. To Hyrcanus, on account of the gentleness of his character, the honor of the high priesthood remained: but the care of the whole district was entrusted by Gabinius not to one man, but in common to the people of Jerusalem: likewise the other districts were assigned in a similar way, divided through Gadara and Amathus and Jericho, and the Sepphorites—that is, the more prominent cities—so that nothing might be left to the power of individuals, and the function of the districts, which required public solicitude, might not falter.

This was accepted both by the Romans, to remove fear of rebellion, and by the Jews, to lay aside envy, with favor: since the race of the Hebrews then lived not under a king, but under the chief men, after the likeness of the Roman republic; in which not one man ruled, but by turns the best men, to whom the magistracy had fallen by lot, administered affairs: excluded indeed from kingship, but arbiters of kings—this was reckoned a prudent counsel against the restlessness of the nation.

But the flight and return of Aristobulus into Judea had stirred up a great deal of turmoil among very many, as those flowed back to him whom the favor of old friendship had drawn, or else the most desperate circumstances, for which a remedy was sought in public discord: men wishing to mix the lowest with the highest, and other hopes had collapsed. Aristobulus, therefore, having returned, began to build fortifications and to restore Alexandrium; when this was learned, Gabinius, having sent Sisinnius and Antony and Servilius with part of the army, hindered the work begun: for Aristobulus, abandoning the fortifications, prepared himself for war, and because he was leading a force greater in number than in usefulness, he relieved the multitude of the people of arms, and gathered only eight thousand armed men, Pitholaus also being added, who had come voluntarily from Jerusalem with a thousand men: then, battle having arisen (the Romans pressing upon his neck), for some while indeed the fight went on vigorously, yet Roman valor prevailed, five thousand of the Jews being slain.

Aristobulus with a thousand men broke through the battle line, and withdrew himself into the fortifications of the fortress of Macherus: two thousand others scattered elsewhere; yet the Roman besiegers, having attacked the fortress, were delayed for almost two days: since Aristobulus was fighting with all his strength over the ultimate danger. But he could not hold out any longer: captured together with his son Antigonus, whom he had likewise taken with him out of chains in his flight, they were sent to Gabinius, and from him directed to Rome. The Senate, having thrust Aristobulus into custody, sent his sons away to Bithynia, which they say Gabinius had suggested by letters: this was promised to Aristobulus's wife, in reward for her diligence, on account of the fortifications handed over to him.

These things having been thus accomplished in Judea, Gabinius, thinking that something should be dared, prepared an expedition against the Parthians: but suspicions concerning the party of King Ptolemy called back the undertaking. For Gabinius turned his march from the Euphrates into Egypt, making use, for all his needs, of the services of Antipater and Hyrcanus (but of Hyrcanus through Antipater), who aided the army with money, grain, arms, and auxiliaries as well, and especially in the engagements around Pelusium; had not the Jews, knowing the terrain and every kind of warfare, managed everything, they would easily have deterred Gabinius.

But again, while the army was delaying, Alexander, son of Aristobulus, was attempting to thrust himself into another Syria, as it were an empty province, had not Gabinius, roused by rumors, hastened his return, and, sending Antipater ahead, recalled very many of the Jews from Alexander's alliance: relying on their number, Alexander was preparing to expel from the region all the Romans he found there; at last, though very many of the Jews had scattered through Antipater's persuasion, he had not yet laid down his boldness, and having ventured battle with thirty thousand men, near Mount Tabor, ten thousand being routed, he fled; by the dispersal of the rest the war was finished. Gabinius, having settled the affairs of the Jerusalem commonwealth according to Antipater's judgment, set out from there, subdued the Nabateans in battle: and Mithridates and Tigranes, fleeing from Persia, he secretly let go: yet he openly announced to the soldiers that they had escaped by flight.

Crassus succeeded Gabinius, and, about to set out for the Parthian war, carried off all the gold that was at Jerusalem in the temple: and besides he ordered two thousand talents to be taken away, which Pompey had left untouched: nor did he rejoice for long: when he had crossed the Euphrates, he lost his army, and he himself was slain. By this success the Parthians, more elated, believed they should cross over into Syria; Cassius vigorously received them by ambush, and drove them back within the boundaries of the province entrusted to him, not without grievous loss to the enemy: since, coming on in a rush, thinking no one would dare oppose them, he had anticipated them by seizing narrower places. At last, many of their men being slaughtered, they abandoned the war. Cassius, the enemy repulsed, secure in the province, burst into Judea, and, the Tarichaeans destroyed, sold thirty thousand Jews into slavery. He also ordered Pitholaus, suspected of the deceit by which he had supported the party of Aristobulus, to be put to the sword.

Nor was Antipater without a share in this counsel, in order that he might remove as much as possible a rival to his power.

This Antipater took to wife a woman named Cypris, sprung from the most illustrious rank among the women of Arabia, and from her he begot four children of the male sex and one female. Of the men, these were the names: the first, Phasael; the next, called Herod; the third, Josippus; the fourth, Pheroras; and Salome the daughter. And for this reason, a man made outstanding for earning by gifts and friendship an alliance with the powerful, he had won for himself, above others, the favor of the king of the Arabs, since he claimed kinship on account of the regions of Arabia from which his wife was taken. At length, when preparing to decide the matter against Aristobulus by battle, he sent his sons to the aforesaid king of the Arabs, as pledges, as it were, of mutual affection. Whom he, receiving as an inviolable trust, kept at home with the same care given to his own children, and afterward, when they were asked back, returned them to their father.

But when Aristobulus, overcome in war, was held in chains; his son Alexander, since, according to the terms of peace by which Cassius, about to return to the Euphrates, had bound him, he was free from war; when the borders of Persia, unthreatened by any crossing of the Parthians, and a soothing appearance of tranquility in the regions of the East eased human anxieties, Caesar, pouring himself from the Transalpine regions of the Gauls into Italy, drove Pompey and the Senate beyond the Ionian sea. Shut out of Italy, Pompey the Great made for Emathia, and ordered the Roman legions to follow him there from various places, because he was preparing war there.

While intent on carrying out these things, Caesar, who stood between the city of Rome and Pompey, since he was following Pompey the Great by shortcuts from the Flaminian to the Appian Way, in order either to seize the man himself or to intercept his army, freed from chains Aristobulus, whom he had left in bonds at Rome, and, having assigned him also a levy of soldiers, sent him into Syria, so that he might attach Judea to himself, and press Pompey from the rear. But at the very outset of his attempts, when he reached the place, he was killed by poison, leaving the matter unfinished. The suspicion of his death was ascribed to Pompey's partisans: thus were Caesar's arrangements mocked, and Aristobulus's ambitions thwarted, by a strange variety of shifting fortune; so that it was safer to be an exile among enemies and a captive in chains, than to be a citizen among his own people, master in his own chamber, king at his own banquet.

Learning this, Pompey, because Aristobulus had attempted to renew war against him in Judea, ordered his son Alexander also to be put to the sword, being too greatly suspected on account of his leanings toward Caesar's party. Scipio, obeying the commands of Gnaeus, set him up before the tribunal as a defendant, so that the appearance of a trial might be maintained, accusers also being brought in, and a sentence was pronounced against him, as one who had disturbed the Roman commonwealth with arms, so that it might be reckoned to proceed rather from the authority of law than from the mere execution of an order, in the manner whereby enemy commanders, convicted of rebellion, were held to be put to death by the axe.

Upon learning of the death of both, Ptolemy, who had taken in the brothers of Aristobulus and the wife of Alexander, sent his son Philippion to the city of Ascalon to summon the aforesaid brothers; he, arriving, took charge of Antigonus and his sisters, in order to conduct them to their father: through the habit and custom of familiarity, a spark of love crept upon the young man—pardonable indeed, if tyrants knew how to pardon—and he took one of the sisters for himself in the fellowship of marriage. Ptolemy the father did not endure this, but having slain his son, publicly joined his daughter-in-law to himself: an outstanding censor of morals, who condemned in his son a union not to be forgiven, so that he himself might defile himself with parricide and incest.

When Pompey was slain—who, while fleeing the arms of Caesar, offered his head to an Egyptian eunuch to be cut off—affairs turned about: yet he offered his head with that patience which befitted one who had so often been the victor over so many peoples, so that, beholding in that lot of the conquered and the condition of an exile the mockery and mutability of human affairs, he offered his neck to the sword, about to receive death as a reward from him to whom he had given a kingdom. After his slaying a change occurred, with many of Pompey's friends seeking Caesar's friendship, and especially Antipater, endowed to an incredible degree, toward all whose friendship he might seek to gain. For to all men resources are necessary, and especially in the preparations of wars, where men often become dearer from enemies and adversaries than from friends. For indeed, because Ptolemy king of Egypt had broken faith, he was being pressed by Caesar himself with the heaviest wars.

Mithridates of Pergamum, with the whole force he had led with him, being repulsed by the obstacles of Pelusium, had settled in the city of Ascalon. And having despaired of crossing over, his attempt being fruitless, he no longer dared to commit himself to war, the ground being unfavorable and his strength unequal. To him Antipater first brought the Arabs as auxiliaries, then led with him three thousand Jews, a strong band furnished with arms. He also stirred up the powerful men of Syria to his aid, both Ptolemy who dwelt in Lebanon, and Iamblichus, and another Ptolemy. Relying on the alliance of these, other peoples too were kindled for the war. Relying on these forces thus joined, Mithridates approached Pelusium, and since he was prevented from crossing, he undertook a siege.

In that place Antipater gave a splendid proof of soldiership: for when the townsmen resisted and the utmost force of war was contested on both sides, he was the first, with his own men, through a breach in the walls where he himself was fighting, to burst into the city, and he took it. Nor yet was this the end of his labor and assistance; but also, when the army was proceeding inward, and around the region called that of Onias the Egyptian Jews wished to resist so as to block the way, again Antipater not only removed the danger of battle, but even brought it about that whatever was needed for the sustenance of the army was supplied by those very men who had prepared arms against it. Whence the people of Memphis also turned their minds away from battle, and willingly surrendered themselves to alliance with Mithridates.

He, having passed by the more suspect places, thinking it right to engage with the rest of the Egyptians, in ground indeed more open, but with stronger men—the army of the region's inhabitants being called that of the Jews—fought vigorously; so much so that he exposed himself to a burst of danger, and would nearly have been destroyed, had not Antipater, seeing that the whole wing on which Mithridates was, the right, was being pressed by a cohort, and enclosed also on the other side by the river, with no escape for his men, charged from the left wing upon those who were pursuing Mithridates as he retreated; whom he pursued so far that the whole people of the enemy was destroyed. In that battle Antipater lost only eighty of his own men, Mithridates more than eight hundred, so that he himself escaped beyond hope: and this disaster followed in one moment.

Antipater, having received many wounds on his body, found before Caesar an outstanding testimony of his valor: Mithridates especially being not only the interpreter of his acquittal, but also the herald of his courage: by which things Caesar, being greatly delighted, received him, as was fitting, in honor among his friends. Then, when he had arranged what needed to be settled for Egypt, and had proceeded into Syria, he conferred upon him honors of the Roman commonwealth; he also bestowed a talent, and other things, as pledges of his favor, as to a man proved to himself. He also, willingly, at Antipater's suggestion, confirmed Hyrcanus in the high priesthood.

Antigonus too met Caesar in Syria, and he who ought rather to have mourned his father's calamity—poisoned by the friends of Pompey, who had been slain—or the punishment of his brother, whom Scipio with the utmost cruelty had beheaded as though guilty, pursued rather the part of envy than of grief, so that he aggravated with the heaviest complaint the fact that Hyrcanus and Antipater were brooding over things not their own, which had by crime been snatched from himself and his brothers; that he had been made an exile from his paternal dwelling: that the land in which he was born was denied him: yet his own injuries seemed more tolerable; far more bitter were those with which the whole nation of the Jewish people was afflicted by Hyrcanus and Antipater.

And that they were claiming favor for their well-managed affairs in Egypt, when that service of aiding Mithridates had been extorted not by any zeal from an ingrained goodwill toward Caesar, but from fear arising from the consciousness of their partnership with Pompey, so that it might serve as a pretext to escape offense. Against these things Antipater, not returning an answer in words but an assertion of deeds, tore his garment: and, stripped of his clothing, full of wounds, with his cloak torn open, offering to the eyes of the bystanders the marks of proven valor, said: "Behold, these are the testimonies of my ill-will toward Caesar: let these, which gleam like lights of the soul, defend the accused. These scars I present to you, Caesar, as hostages of my inward will. These I lay down as pledges of my fidelity, and I bear letters inscribed upon my heart. If I am not believed by citizens, let the enemy be asked, for whom I received those wounds.

What else, save the loyalty which I bore to you, were they persecuting in me? But he objects to me the favor of Pompey: I confess, Caesar, that I was a friend not of the man, but of the Roman name, and that I strove earnestly for this, that my services might be devoted to your commonwealth. I served, then, not one man, but all: Pompey may have been dear to me, but he began to be my friend before he became your enemy. He was your son-in-law, and you his father-in-law. When he was in the region of Judea, I aided him as a Roman commander; yet I did not receive for him the same wounds as for you. To you I have devoted the pledges of death, and I have received the strokes of hostile weapons. What wonder, then, if a captive knows not the honor of wounds? And a fugitive is ignorant of what fidelity is? But what does this perpetual enemy object to me, save your friendship?

It seems truly strange that Antigonus should come as an accuser to the Romans, whom he is accustomed to assail in war, and should complain before them that he has been stripped of rule, the use and business of which he desired not for his own power, nor for domestic distinction, but to provoke Roman arms, and to avenge the deaths of his father and brother. Ungrateful, he does not fear the tribunal of Rome, which granted his safety, but even dares of his own accord to assail it, when he knows that here the partner of his rebellion has paid the penalty." When Antipater had made an end of speaking, Caesar pronounced that Hyrcanus seemed more worthy of the priesthood; but to Antipater he granted the choice of an office. He then, seeking the same man as arbiter and moderator of the honor, and placing in him who gave the honor the measure of the honor, took the distinction and the increase of power quite shrewdly and modestly.

For Antipater was made procurator of all Judea: he asked, indeed, that he might be permitted to rebuild the walls of Judea which had been demolished in the war. And this great business, secure in the good faith given him, he both requested and obtained. And these things, as was the custom of the Roman commanders, were, by Caesar's decision, inscribed in the Capitol—whatever marks of honor Caesar had judged should be conferred upon Antipater—so that there might exist testimonies both of his own justice and of the man's merits, for the knowledge of posterity as well. Antipater, having escorted Caesar from Syria, turned his way into Judea. And first, the wall which Pompey had destroyed, he restored to its former state. Then he suppressed disturbances, meeting each man with the affection of a parent, now with gentler admonitions, now with threats; so that they might judge things pertaining to peace rather than to war to be followed, and not exasperate the mind of the king.

For if he remained unoffended, he would show himself a citizen; if provoked, he would display a tyrant; and though Hyrcanus was mild by nature, they should still beware lest they exasperate him by insult: that it was also his own concern to take counsel for the common good, out of pious solicitude, not out of lust for power. But if they attempted anything, he would not lack the spirit to avenge it, and they would experience the friendship of the Romans rather than their domination. For who would doubt that his friends would break out into arms, if they learned that he to whom they themselves had confirmed the kingdom had been stripped of his kingdom? At the same time, because he knew Hyrcanus, by the gentleness of his disposition, to be rather slow in carrying out the necessities of public duties, he thought the care of guarding the region should be divided among his own sons, since Hyrcanus was unequal to so great a burden and command.

And so he appointed Phasael, the elder of his children, governor of Jerusalem and commander of the military; and Herod also, the younger in age and quite a youth, he set over Galilee with equal honor. He, once he had obtained power, being by nature more keen for undertaking business, immediately found material for his own genius.

For Syria was suffering from the incursions of Ezechias the bandit. This man, as chief of a band of plunderers, pressed hard upon the whole province, and was hostile in every place. Herod, having seized him, ordered him slain, and destroyed many of the bandits: which brought him great glory of valor, so that he had favor among the Syrians. Whence in cities and villages he was celebrated by the voices of those who sang of him, as though he had restored peace and public quiet after a long interval. This talk stirred up, by a second rumor of the people, a pious rivalry of brotherly praise, so that Phasael, younger in birth, whom he equaled in kindliness of mind, having gathered to the foremost place through goodwill men of greater excellence, who might temper severity with grace. Whence the greatest honor was paid to Antipater, as if to a public parent: he himself, however, changed nothing of the goodwill and fidelity with which he had been accustomed to observe Hyrcanus.

But it is difficult to be free from envy in prosperity. At length Hyrcanus first was, silently, being nettled at the praises of the young men; but he was more vehemently exasperated by the things reported as splendidly done in Herod's exploits, whom he saw to have gone beyond the laws of the Jews and the measure of a private person, so that he claimed for himself, along with his brother and father, all power, and stripped the king of every honor, so that nothing remained to him but the name, which, empty of power, presented but a vain appearance.

Finally, without consulting him, very many had been put to death, killed without royal mandates, whom the law of the fathers did not allow to perish; whence many said it was proper that Herod be summoned to answer, to give an account by what right he had violated the law, which forbade that men be given over to death unheard: that Hyrcanus ought to rise up, and try, at least from this, whether Herod bore himself as king or as a private man. That if, summoned to judgment, he should not appear, it would be manifest to what heights his insolence had aspired. By these and such words of the royal attendants, Hyrcanus was gradually kindled through envy, men who reproached in him a shame more properly his own for cowardice, in that he had by right yielded from the royal business, power having been transferred to Antipater and his sons, whom he had made lords by the diminishing of his own license to reign.

Stirred up by these, he resolved that Herod should not fail to be cleared in his own judgment of the things objected against him as usurped contrary to the laws. Herod, although indignant at being summoned to judgment, nevertheless came, whether by his father's admonitions or by a calmer counsel, having first secured the fortifications of Galilee: yet neither with an envious force of arms, as though threatening war, nor again in safe protection, so as to betray his position: he was also supported by the favor of Sextus Caesar, which inclined toward him; who, fearing lest some treachery be inflicted upon the youth, had prescribed to Hyrcanus, with rather severe orders, that he should think it best to refrain from the danger of a graver trial. Whence he attributed the acquittal of the trial more to Sextus than to his own will; although Hyrcanus, even though he had yielded to the accusers so far as to summon him to trial, willingly acquitted him then, since he preferred to save his lord rather than to persecute him.

But he, with youthful heat, grieving over the injury, ungrateful for the acquittal, went on to Sextus with the deliberate purpose that if he were summoned again, he would not obey, and gave to his detractors occasion for accusation: although Hyrcanus did not rise up for vengeance, seeing him the stronger: yet Herod, stirred by the remembrance of the injury (which is nourished by dwelling upon it), having gathered an army, proceeded toward Jerusalem, in order to dissolve all the power of Hyrcanus, and had almost done so, had not his impulse been broken by his brother and father, who begged him, that he should consider it enough to have risen up, and set a limit by the mere threat of vengeance; that he should, however, refrain from the destruction of the ruler, under whom he had attained no small favor, so that they might acquire so great power: that he indeed seemed to have been wronged, in that he was summoned to trial; but again favored by grace, in that he was acquitted: that it would be too harsh, if he pursued the injury, and were ungrateful for his safety: that the outcome of wars, moreover, was doubtful and uncertain: that it was also a heavy burden of ill-will, for him to bring arms against his own commander, and against one who had cherished him with paternal affection, had often aided him, had never harmed him, except that, having used bad counselors, he had raised against him a shadow of injustice, by which he might think himself deceived.

By these and such words they broke the youthful impulse, and the civil war was removed from Judea, but, through the intervention of the Romans, was transferred and turned upon them. For indeed Sextus Caesar was treacherously slain by Caecilius Bassus: and afterward Julius Caesar, having exercised perpetual power for three years and seven months, because he had exceeded the condition of a private citizen, paid grave penalties in the senate, Cassius and Brutus being the authors. Whence, the cities having been gathered together, when Julius, the adopted son, having joined Antony to himself, had resolved to avenge his father's death, since Herod was thought to have aided the greatest part of the war, by sending auxiliaries, the charge of governing all Syria was entrusted to him. Which thing was the cause of a fatal ruin for Antipater.

For Malachus, fearing the power of Antipater, which was being increased by the valor of Herod, having bribed one of the royal servants, prepared poison for Antipater. When this had been drunk, Antipater died immediately after the banquet, a man of untiring energy in other matters, and especially a vigorous man in seeking and establishing the rule of Hyrcanus.

Herod bore his father's death grievously, and having roused his army, he promised vengeance; but recalled by his brother's counsel, lest Judaea be harassed by internal war between Herod and Malachus, though ready to fight and Malachus greatly dissembling that he was conscious of Antipater's murder, he was easily led to another kind of vengeance, so that, satisfaction having been received that Antipater had died through no treachery of Malachus, Herod invited Hyrcanus and Malachus to dinner, and by the decision of Cassius, who had also given this task to his own men sent to carry out the vengeance: centurions and commanders of the Roman army were prepared, and as Hyrcanus and Malachus came together they met them on the shore, and with drawn swords surrounded each of them. Yet only Malachus, pierced and mangled with many wounds, they slew with final destruction. Hyrcanus, stunned by that terror, lost consciousness, and, drained of all vigor of mind and body, collapsed.

Yet after a little while, when he had recovered himself, and Herod was asked who had ordered Malachus to be killed, when he learned from the officers that he had been slain by order of Cassius the Roman commander, he immediately replied: "Then Cassius has been the safety of both me and my country, since he destroyed the plotter against both." But whether Hyrcanus said this out of fear, or truly felt it so, is not clearly evident, nor can it be determined by our judgment. Elichus had risen up, wishing to avenge the death of Malachus out of brotherly obligation; but because he did not dare to provoke Herod, he thought to provoke Herod's brother Phaselus instead. When this became known, Herod, wishing to move against him, was held back by bodily illness. Meanwhile Elichus had occupied certain fortifications, and especially Massada, having placed garrisons there. But when Herod's health and vigor was restored, he recovered everything, and dismissed Elichus himself, who begged for mercy, from the fortress of Massada.

Antigonus, son of Aristobulus, had interfered with his power, aided by his father-in-law Ptolemy; these Herod routed in battle, and, Antigonus having been driven out, returned victorious to Jerusalem. Great favor also attended him, both from the recent triumph and especially from a new marriage. For at first his wife Dosis had been joined to him, from whom he had a son Antipater; afterward he had joined to himself in second marriage Mariamne, daughter of Alexander, son of Aristobulus, closely related to Hyrcanus, and for that reason endowed with royal nobility. Yet he did not escape envy, because he had aspired to seize away the kingdom from Hyrcanus.

For when in the Macedonian war Caesar and Antony crushed Cassius and Brutus, and the victors, one hastened to return to Italy, the other believed he should hurry to Syria; very many embassies flocked together, and the leading men among the Jews assembled before Antony, and proceeded into Bithynia, accusing Herod and his brother Phaselus, because they had violently seized the power over all affairs, leaving to Hyrcanus only the name, for the appearance of honor. But the presence and favor of Herod prevailed, who had bound Antony's mind to himself not with a modest sum of money, but also with rich gifts. Whence, not being reproached by Antony with even a single word, he cleared away the ill-will of the embassy directed against him. Again, nearly a hundred men of the Jews, setting out even as far as Antioch to bring accusation with no less spirit, encountered Antony at Daphne, now wholly given over to love of Cleopatra and devoted to her pleasure, and there they began to denounce the intolerable power of the brothers.

Messala, on the contrary, standing by Hyrcanus, refuted them, and rebuked the insolence of a nation which, roused by the faction of a few, disparaged its own men, sought foreigners, and pretended it was for the injury of Hyrcanus, when Hyrcanus himself had preferred what was fitting for the citizens. Therefore, having heard the allegations of both parties, Antony asked Hyrcanus whom he thought more fit. Since his inclination agreed with Herod and his brother, and the answers were in accord with his own will, Antony, being very much pleased, because he was bound to the brothers by the tie of their father's hospitality, since when he had come with Gabinius into Judaea, Antipater had received him most graciously in hospitality and honored him with many services, appointed Herod and Phaselus as tetrarchs, and ordered them to conduct the administration of all Judaea.

From this too the number of complainants was multiplied: for although he had received some of the envoys under guard, he had treated others with contempt; yet these envoys afterward, when a sedition had arisen at Jerusalem, he ordered to proceed to Antony, who was residing in the city of Tyre, and they did not fail the will of the citizens. And although those who protested were severely punished, yet again they dared to raise an outcry: the governor of Tyre was sent by Antony to seize those guilty of the insolence, since both he himself and Herod and Hyrcanus complained, lest very grave punishments and disturbances of the country and causes of wars be generated there.

When nothing was accomplished, but everything began to be thrown into confusion by irrational contention, Antony sent armed men: by whom some were slain, others gravely wounded; yet those who had been able to escape obtained from Hyrcanus, as for the dead, burial, or for the living, the favor of medical care, giving occasion for a twofold display of humanity, whereby his benevolence toward the citizens might be manifested. The others too, who had fled, so exasperated Antony by harassing the city that he even ordered the ultimate punishments upon those whom he held bound.

The insolence had yielded to severity, but after a course of almost two years the army of the Parthians poured itself into Syria, with Pacorus, the king's son, and Barzafarmanes, satrap of the Persians, leading the barbarian host. To these came as instigator Lysanias, son of Ptolemy surnamed Menneus, his father having died: already stripped of power by the aforementioned satrap, he incited Pacorus with promises of a thousand talents of silver and five hundred women, that he should give the kingdom to Antigonus and dissolve the priesthood of Hyrcanus. Pacorus gave a part of his cavalry to a royal servant (since he himself was detained by rebellions within Syria), that he might cross into Judaea and act on behalf of Antigonus and further his cause; but this too would have accomplished little, had not the Jews, fighting among themselves, Herod and Phaselus on one side and Antigonus on the other, been persuaded, by Antigonus's decision, that the leaders should receive Pacorus as a reconciler of peace.

This Phaselus, through ease of disposition, approved for the time, though Herod resisted; soon, having found it ruinous to himself, he learned that barbarians are by nature faithless: for having been sent to Barzafarmanes, as though an executor of peace, and having set out with Hyrcanus, he met the satrap, who cunningly enough veiled his treachery under a show of kindness. Finally he gave gifts to those about to depart, and arranged by his own dispositions how they should be ensnared. Their escorts accompanied them more as guards than as companions in danger. Messages were brought that the Parthian had been bribed with a thousand talents for the destruction of the aforementioned men. Ofellius also urged flight, because he had learned that a most cruel plot had been prepared against them by Saramalla the Syrian.

But not even so was Phaselus persuaded to look to his own safety, leaving Hyrcanus behind; rather he assailed the satrap with graver reproaches, because he betrayed his trust for a price, and valued money more than fairness; that he would give more for his own safety than Antigonus would pay for the kingdom. But the Persian, striving to reconcile to himself, by perjury, the trust which he had betrayed, and to drive away all suspicion, not much later carried out his deceit. For when he had gone to Pacorus, those to whom this task had been given seized Phaselus and Hyrcanus with curses, since they could now do nothing else, wishing that the perjuries of the barbarians and the perfidy of the betrayal be avenged. No less did Ninus's agent, sent into Judaea, put forward deceits, so as to capture Herod: but he, already for a long time suspecting the treachery of the barbarians, was exercised by grave caution, and kept himself within his fortifications.

Nor did he think he should go out beyond the walls and entrust himself to conference with the enemy, though feigned instructions were sent by Pacorus that he should meet his brother concerning Phaselus and his insolence. And having learned that his brother and Hyrcanus were held captive, he sent his people ahead by night into Idumaea, and he himself with his servants, pursuing, routed the barbarians who followed. And having slain many, he betook himself with hastened step to Massada: yet he found the Jews, who had pressed upon him as he fled, harsher than the Parthians, and he settled his own people within the fortifications, having avenged himself upon his pursuers. He himself, however, leaving garrisons which might serve as protection for his mother and younger brothers, hastened into Arabia Petraea.

The Persians poured themselves into Jerusalem, rushing into the houses of those who fled: everything was turned into plunder, war, tumult: their outrage proceeded so far that the kingdom was handed over to Antigonus; Phaselus too and Hyrcanus were delivered into his power, to undergo whatever should please him. He, however, could not restrain himself for long, but immediately, having made an assault upon Hyrcanus, cut off his ears with his own teeth, lest at any future turn of affairs a return to the priesthood should lie open to him: for it is required that the high priest be unmutilated, nor is it lawful by the law, as is clear, that anyone with a mutilated body should exercise the highest office of the priesthood. Phaselus, by the swiftness of a death he sought for himself, forestalled the disgrace, dashing his head against stones that happened to be at hand, disdaining to be preserved for mockery, or to die by another's order, being able, though his hands were bound and iron denied him, to find an end to his life.

There was, however, also another account concerning him, that Antigonus, when he was wounded, brought in a physician, by whom poison was poured into the wound as though it were medicine. Whatever the outcome of these events, its beginning had a rather fierce spirit. It is reported that, in his last moments, when he was already breathing out his spirit, having learned that Herod was alive and had by flight escaped the snares prepared for him, he died content: because he was leaving behind one who would survive to bring vengeance upon them. Herod, however, hastened into Arabia, hoping that he would receive money, by which alone he believed barbarian avarice could be swayed, in order to redeem his brother's captivity: and if he should find the Arab either forgetful of his father's affection, or more tenacious in returning favors, he would ask for a loan of money as the price of ransom, for which he would pledge as security the son whom he had brought with him for this purpose, a boy of seven years.

But the pious zeal of brotherly devotion was forestalled by the death of Phaselus, and Herod, in vain, pursued so diligently the efforts of a brother's service. Yet before he learned of his brother's death, he found Bocchus, king of Arabia, estranged, whom he had believed a friend: for he had changed his loyalty with the times, and now forbade Herod, as he approached the borders of Arabia, to enter: it having been arranged, as had been insinuated to him by messengers of the Parthians, that he should not think to receive into the kingdom of Arabia one who was a fugitive, and thereby bring upon himself the cause of a most grievous war. Offended by this, Herod immediately gave vent to what the grief of just indignation had prompted, and thence turned toward Egypt. Yet soon Bocchus repented of the violated favor, and sent men to recall Herod, but was too late.

When Herod had entered the regions inhabited by the Rhinocoruri, both the death of his brother and the captivity of Hyrcanus, who had been led away in chains into Parthia, were made known to him by true report, and so much grief was assumed as had been laid down of anxieties, that he prepared flight instead of war. At length he hastened with the greatest zeal to Alexandria, and there was received with honor by Cleopatra, because she thought a man of such renown should be sought as a leader of war for her own cause. Whence, having set aside the queen's requests, he sailed to Rome, judging the storms of winter and the disturbances of Italy, which he had learned of, to be lesser than those waves, more dreadful than any shipwreck, which he feared in the fickleness of Cleopatra: at length, setting out amid unexpected blasts of wind, he encountered danger near Pamphylia, but nevertheless escaped; and having changed ships, he arrived first at Brundisium, and thence at Rome.

There, by the privilege of his father's friendship, he approached Antony, and having lamented his own and his household's misfortunes, on account of which, while his family was under siege, he had come to Rome to entreat help. He moved Antony, compassion being aroused by such a great reversal of fortune, because a king who had long been most powerful, and who had often brought aid to the Roman republic, now suddenly, like a shipwrecked man, destitute of all things and without help, was suppliantly imploring aid for his own people placed in danger, and had changed his abode: in which matter, although Antony was inclined by the favor of the hospitality which he had had with his father Antipater, he was especially so inclined because, having made him tetrarch of Idumaea, he had left him destined for the kingdom.

Caesar, however, being more expansive in natural benevolence, held dearer the military service of Antipater endured in Egypt beyond all the battles of his own father Caesar, and the bond of hospitality, as it were with the pledges of favor renewed: yet he was suspicious of the crafty character of the king, bent not upon what was fair and good, but perversely upon the advantages of his own affairs. An opportunity being given to approach the Senate, before which, Messala and Atratinus setting forth the well-conducted deeds of his father, and also the services of Herod himself toward the Roman commonwealth, it was decreed by the authority of the fathers that Herod's kingdom appeared useful to the Roman empire: which, Antony assenting, in the war to be waged against the Parthians, it would be advantageous to join the alliance of the aforesaid king to the Romans. The Senate being dismissed, Caesar and Antony and Herod together, going forth from the curia, were escorted by the attendance of the magistrates.

And on the very first day on which the kingdom was conferred upon Herod by senatorial decree, Antony prepared a banquet and invited the king. At nearly the same time Josippus, Herod's brother, for lack of water had planned a flight by night: but so great a downpour of rain suddenly poured over the land that it filled all the water-conduits. And so, the flight which he was preparing toward the nation of the Arabs being called back, he routed the forces of Antigonus who was besieging him, partly by ambushes, partly by engagement and open battle, but he himself too, for the most part with adverse outcome, withdrew into the fortress. And now Herod, unforeseen, was present, having come from Italy to Ptolemais, a city of Syria, and hastening forth by ship, with a great band of citizens and foreigners, sought Antigonus, Ventidius and Silo, commanders of the Roman soldiery, meeting him, whom Antony had ordered to be present in escorting Herod.

These men Gellius, though reluctant in zeal—because Antigonus had turned each of them aside by bribe—had nevertheless persuaded, under pretext, to come together from a nearby place: since indeed Ventidius was lingering in the nearby cities, on account of suppressing the disturbances of the Parthian war; and Silo, stationed within Judea, was concluding an open alliance with Antigonus by means of money: yet Herod had no need of aid, to whom, except for a few Galileans, all had adhered: and since it was his purpose to free his own people from the siege at Massada as soon as possible, he took Joppa, which lay in the midst, by fighting, filled as it was with a band of adversaries, lest, having advanced further, he should leave an enemy at his back: and although Antigonus wished to hinder his march, nevertheless with easy effort he recovered Massada, and delivered his people from danger.

Then, setting out for Jerusalem, when he had done everything so as not to have the necessity of fighting, asserting that he had taken up arms for the citizens against rebellion, not against his own people: being provoked by the partisans of Antigonus, he compelled those clamoring against him from the wall to flee, by arrows and lighter missiles.

Nor would there have been any delay of victory, had not Silo, the commander of the Roman column, suborned soldiers who should put forward a complaint of want, and, everything around the walls having been laid waste, should allege the difficulty of provisions and the scarcity of food: and now the time was at hand when they ought to withdraw to winter quarters, they threatened they would break off obedience, unless it were made easy for them. And already the sedition had grown strong, had not Herod, offering himself as a mediator equally to the centurions and the Roman soldiers, entreated them not to abandon him, whom Caesar and Antony, and the Senate too, had committed to be defended by him, especially since he promised nothing would be lacking for their needs.

And having finished his speech, going forth into the region, he suddenly caused an abundance of all things to be supplied to the army, so that no pretext remained to Silo; and thence, the spirits of all being raised, with two thousand foot and five hundred horse he recovered Idumea. The Roman column now being quieted and settled in winter quarters, Josippus was chosen as leader for the lighter task, lest he should think anything ought to be undertaken against Antigonus at greater risk: he himself, however, having transferred his own people from Massada, when he had settled them in Samaria with provisions which he believed would serve for defense and use: in the icy winter, with all places filled with snow, going before by messenger the news of his coming to Sephoris (called by its ancient name, which they afterward named Dioscaesarea), he entered without any battle, and judged it opportune for restoring those whom the wintry frosts and the roughness of icy journeys had wearied: for there was there also a great abundance of provisions.

Where, the soldiers being refreshed with food and a stationary halt interposed, he thought battle should be undertaken against the robbers, who, ranging through the whole region, wore down the inhabitants of the places with no less than a warlike incursion. And so first he sent ahead a certain part of horse and foot to the village of Arbela, and he himself with the remaining band was present after forty days. Nor were the robbers terrified by the appearance of the army; but, thinking they must meet them with arms, they preferred military discipline and the audacity of robbers. A conflict having taken place, Herod's left wing gave way; but Herod quickly repaired it, and, aid being applied, he steadied his men, struck those pursuing, and broke their onset. Those who could not endure Herod fighting hand to hand, and turning aside, he pursued as far as the Jordan and put to death.

All the rest were scattered beyond the river, so that Galilee was freed from all fear of incursions; only those remaining who, hiding themselves in lurking-places and, as it were, burying themselves in caves, delayed victory. Now there were, on the steep of the mountains, in the hollow sides of the rocks, bristling caves, among craggy cliffs, of access on every side impassable and impossible, except to the inhabitants of the places. Who, by crosswise paths and narrow tracks, by which alone they were accustomed to be approached, by the practice of danger, were the safer against the danger of being caught. Blind within were the recesses of the caverns, in front of which a rock, projecting like a continuous ridge all the way to the deep gatherings of waters, excluded the hope of approach, the position being slippery on every side, with waters falling from the brow of the mountains, and the crashing course of the streams, so that the precipice of the falling waters, and the overhanging rock, gave more terror to those approaching by narrow paths.

Then for some while the king remained in uncertainty, not finding how he might overcome nature. Afterward, however, using a device of this kind, so that in the manner of chests, by a contrived defense, he might enclose the strongest men: at the very mouth of the caves he let down armed men by certain restraining ropes, who easily began to force the unarmed to yield, and to kill along with all their kindred and offspring: but if any dared to resist, to burn them by fire thrown in. There was no place for pity. Indeed even Herod, wishing to rescue many from death, and to give them confidence to take refuge with him, rather turned them away; so that no one joined Herod voluntarily; and if any were compelled, they preferred death to captivity.

At length one of the elders, who had seven sons and a wife present, whose safety he might have provided for, killed them all in this manner: Bidding each one come forward in turn, he himself stood at the entrance, and killed each of his sons as he came forth. Herod, looking down upon so sad and pitiable a deed, struck by fatherly necessity, restrained him with his hand and begged with words that he would spare his children, promising impunity: but he, bent by no words whatsoever, and moreover reviling the king, killed, beyond his sons, his wife also, the bodies of his sons having been cast down from on high, and at the last flung himself headlong into the depth.

Antigonus, terrified by these things, because Herod had so easily overcome the multitude of robbers and the difficulty of the places, avoided indeed his presence in person: but turned himself to Ptolemy, whom Herod had set over part of the army, and, a man most apt for the stealthy tricks of war, through those who were accustomed to disturb Galilee, by a sudden attack compelled Ptolemy to be slain. Josippus too, Herod's brother, his own brother being occupied in other quarters, though fighting back vigorously with the Roman soldiers who had come together rashly to his aid, he destroyed. Nor content with so great a triumph, he added also to the victory a grave insult upon the dead, so that the head was cut off and left behind: for which Pheroras, brother of the slain man, offered fifty talents, and did not obtain it. By this victory the zeal of very many within Galilee was again turned to Antigonus, and the business of war was renewed.

Herod had hastened to Antioch, and was resting there in a pleasant enough place which they call Daphne. There, on receiving news of his brother's death, groaning a little, he put off his grief for a time, and prepared vengeance. Antigonus did not endure him raging with grief, but hid himself within his fortifications. Herod broke in, to pursue the authors of so great a crime, and easily turned aside the columns that met him. There was very great slaughter of many, the roads blocked with the bodies of the fallen, so that the very paths were filled with the corpses of the slain. The battle would have been finished, all turned to flight, had Herod judged that his march should be directed at once to Jerusalem. Antigonus had cast away his weapons, dreading the last punishment.

All were confounded with fear, so much so that when Herod had been called back from pursuing by the harshness of winter, and, his arms laid aside, had entered the bath accompanied by one servant, three men met him with drawn swords: then more, who had fled from the battle, seeking hiding places. These, on seeing the king, confused with fear, hastened to pass by and to reach the exit of the bath, that they might be able to escape—they who could have accomplished the king's death and ended the war. In short, there was no one who seized the fleeing men: from which Herod, conjecturing how great a terror had befallen the enemy, pressed on the battle, and killed Pappus himself, the leader of the opposing column, and ordered his head to be cut off, because by him his royal brother Josippus had been slain.

Meanwhile Antigonus put off the flight which he had prepared: whom, delaying, Herod, with his army spread round, besieged; and he pressed upon that part which was before the temple, the part where also Pompey had broken through the wall. So great now was the king's confidence of victory that even with the siege begun he turned aside to receive as wife the daughter of Alexander, exchanging the trumpet-call for a wedding song, and mingling nuptials with war; and having gained, by occasion of the battle, the opportunity of the union, he returned from the festivities to the war. Sosius also came up, sent by Antony to the king's aid: so, forces being joined, since the Romans excelled in the experience of war and military discipline, and relied on their zeal to please the king, scarcely in the fifth month was the breach made, Herod's men daring to scale the wall. And as the centurions of the Romans burst into the town, countless slaughters were made, everything around the temple laid waste.

Some fleeing to the temple, others gathered within houses, were cut down: no pity for old age, none for infancy or feminine weakness. Antigonus presented himself, and, forgetful of the place, cast himself at Sosius's feet. But he, whom so great a reversal of fortune ought to have moved to mercy, reviled Antigonus lying there, and called him "woman," nor yet spared him as a woman, but thrust him bound into prison. Herod wavered, as to how he might snatch his fatherland from the hands of the Romans, how he might keep the temple unpolluted by the Gentiles. For the Romans were hastening to view the inner mysteries, to profane the holy of holies. But the king, now by entreaty, now by threats, turned back one after another, judging the victory worse than flight, if any of the sacred things should be divulged. The Romans pressed on for plunder, Herod resisted, lest they should leave the city empty for him, and the kingdom that remained to him a desert.

Sosius, on the contrary, asserted that the plunder of a captured city was owed to the soldiers. But the king pledged from his own means that he would give money to the soldier: and thus he redeemed with money what remained of his fatherland that had survived: that he might fulfill his promise, he received the soldiers most humanely, the leaders reasonably, and rewarded Sosius himself too with royal liberality: no one departed ungrateful. Sosius offered a crown to God, and departing, took Antigonus with him to Antony, whom he, as a man of degenerate spirit, struck with the axe.

Herod, moreover, bestowed very many gifts even on his own people, and gave very many gifts to Antony and his friends; yet he could not thereby purchase his own security from Antony. For by now Antony, mortgaged to the love of Cleopatra, was in servitude to it, and, enslaved, was a servant to her lust; but he could not master the greed of a woman, and especially of a woman well practiced in the slaughter of her kinsfolk, whose extinction allowed her to add their possessions, as if spoil, to her own: with the same avarice and cruelty, if she heard that any in Syria were wealthier, she had them killed. And Antony, now given over wholly to her lust, was thought by her capable of having the kingdoms of Judaea and Arabia also joined to her greed, once both peoples' rulers had been destroyed.

But although drunk with lust and heavy with sleep, Antony in this matter still came to his senses enough that he refused to destroy such men and such powerful kings merely at the command of a most wanton woman. Yet, so as not to let them go unscathed, he struck down their friends; he took away the greatest part of their possessions, especially that which produced balsam: and he awarded to Cleopatra's greed all the cities situated within the river Eleutherus, except Tyre and Sidon. She, enticed by such a reward from her lover, followed Antony as far as the Euphrates as he set out against the Parthians, and then returned through Judaea, where Herod did not neglect to win over the queen's favor with the greatest gifts and presents. Her successes increased her pride, so that with womanly unrestraint she exalted herself beyond measure. For not long after, Artabazes, king of the Parthians, son of the most powerful king Tigranes, was given to her as a gift.

Antony, holding him captive—one who by rights was owed to a triumph, together with all the Persian booty and spoils—handed him over to the woman as if he were a worthless slave: so that the more illustrious the victory had been, the more shameful was the largess, which dishonored a king with such mockery. Yet he did not long enjoy his successes, he who did not know how to use them; by womanish insolence he stirred up Augustus against himself. And so the Actian war was being prepared on both sides with great commotion. The king was most eager to undertake war along with Antony, both because Judaea was free from hostile disturbance, and because he had recovered Hyrcania, long held by the sister of Antigonus. But in this too Herod was most fortunate, for it was hateful to him to involve himself in others' perils.

Cleopatra, therefore, wishing to alienate his mind from the kings and turn it away, persuaded her husband that Herod should wage war against the Arabs: so that if he were victorious, Arabia should fall to the queen; if he were defeated, Cleopatra's dominion should be extended over Judaea. Whichever won, the other would be destroyed. This plan turned out, not by design but by chance, to favor Herod: who, as soon as he engaged in battle, with his stronger cavalry drove off the enemy; but in the outcome he was overcome by the enemy's numbers, and surrounded by their multitude. The enemy forces having gathered at Canatha, when he wished to close ranks against them, his men, their spirits lifted by earlier success, and for that reason rushing headlong upon the enemy, left him unsupported—especially through the treachery of Athenion, whom Cleopatra had attached as a commander, not to aid Herod, but to desert him precisely in his hour of need.

Finally, the Arabs, attacking his abandoned army in rocky and pathless places, laid it low with heavy slaughter and routed it, and pursuing the fugitives even to their refuges, gave them over to destruction: Herod arrived, indeed, later than necessity demanded; yet, avenging the disaster, he so afflicted the Arabs in the later battles that they more often lamented that one victory of theirs. There also occurred a grievous failure of spirit caused by an earthquake, by which very many flocks, and about thirty thousand men also, were consumed. Yet the whole military force, because it dwelt under the open sky, remained unharmed. From this too the enemy's spirits were raised, so that they thought they might more easily invade Judaea, now deserted, and crush a people struck down by such portents. Herod therefore thought they should be roused for his own defense, especially since he had learned that the envoys he had sent to Arabia had been treacherously slain.

He therefore addressed them, trembling as they were, with this speech: "Since, after so many favorable battles of ours, the enemy's strength has been broken to the point of their own confession—they who, driven by mad grief, as though defeated, slew our envoys—it seems strange to me that irrational fear has so struck you down that you now prefer the chance signs of the elements to the successes already achieved by your valor. There was no engagement in which the Arabs did not at once give way, and turning to flight, judge that they must yield: and, as the tricks of war go, they sought remedies by fraud and ambush; not that they themselves might win, but that they might delay our victory. Whereas you ought to feel confidence because of these things, instead an agitation has followed, as though from a fearsome war, because the earth trembled—though only the innocent were harmed, since it was they who were waging the battles.

Or if we wish to consider whom it harmed, we shall reckon it rather harmed the Arabs, whom it brought back to war, lest by fleeing they should withdraw from stronger foes. For I see that they have returned to the battle line relying not on arms or strength, but on the loss of our cattle. Fragile, however, is that hope which depends not on confidence in one's own valor, but on another's misery: since on earth nothing is so changeable as either good or ill fortune. For in brief moments the state of human affairs is renewed. Neither is prosperity lasting, nor is affliction persistent. And so it is not a permanent thing to be wretched, nor the contrary; but the turns of fortune alternate frequently, and vary even within the same events. Indeed, we may take an example from ourselves. In the earlier engagement we had the upper hand, but as the battle proceeded, fortune changed, so that we were conquered by those whom we had conquered.

Therefore it is open to us also to hope that those who conquered us may be conquered by us. For excessive presumption is always incautious, and neglectful of itself. Fear, however, teaches foresight for the future, and instructs diligence. In prosperity boldness creeps in, and rash temerity knows not how to wait for the counsel of its leader. In short, it was by advancing contrary to my judgment that you gave Athenion's wickedness the opportunity to do harm. Now let your trembling yield up to me the pledge of victory beforehand. Rouse up your spirits, then, and lift up the ancient greatness of soul of the Jews. Let not the disturbances of senseless things terrify you, nor consider earthquakes as omens of some other calamity. The passions of the elements have their own causes: fear nothing else than what lies in the very impact of these things. For the signs of dangers are not found in earthquake and pestilence among living creatures—these are the very dangers themselves.

There is nothing for us to fear, as though we had suffered grievously, we who have endured the very gravest things. He who has already exacted vengeance can now be merciful, and gentler than if he had not exacted it. What is preserved after an earthquake and a plague, if not mercy? Because we have paid a double penalty for our sins. And yet we still have intact whatever is useful for war. For pestilence has carried off those who stood outside the war; but our victory has taken from the enemy what they had chosen as fit for war. Furthermore, we lost cattle that died, they lost counsel—those who thought it right, against all divine and human law, to slaughter the envoys we sent. They have transgressed the law common to all men, even to barbarians themselves: since even among those who know not civilization, envoys are held inviolable, so long as heavenly vengeance is dreaded, and God, the avenger of so great a crime, is feared.

This, then, is what our adversaries have committed, a thing which neither human nor divine laws leave unpunished. Let us go forth, therefore, to fight not for territory or spoils, but for a wrong done against the divine. Let us be roused to war not by love of wife or offspring, but by the presumed protection of God. We are executing, not our own decisions, but the sacred precepts of divine law, that we may demand vengeance for those whom religion commands to be inviolable. Amid hostile arms, the embassy alone is the mediator of peace: he who performs an embassy lays aside the character of an enemy—and it is their blood which now cries out to God and demands vengeance. Let us hasten, then, to battle, since we have God as our avenger, the vindicator of the slain. They fight better for us than we for ourselves, and, surrounded by legions of angels, they go before us in the battle line." Having exhorted the soldiers with such words, he rushed upon the enemy, seeking every occasion for battle.

The Arabs were superior in number, but weaker in spirit; hence, upon engaging, about five thousand of them fell. The rest, withdrawing into a fortification, were worn down by lack of water, so that they sent an embassy demanding peace at a price. But when they saw themselves being put off, and their thirst grew more inflamed as the water failed, many, going out, offered themselves to the enemy, preferring to perish by voluntary death rather than by thirst. Herod kept these bound in custody, lest there be some trickery. And so within five days about four thousand were taken; and as others came forth to fight, about seven thousand men more were slain. Humbled by this blow, the Arabs, as much inferior in valor as they were superior in counsel, sought out as their own defender and helper the very man whom they had had as an adversary.

But a greater anxiety struck the victor, so that he who had subjected others to himself now dreaded, no longer for his borders, but for his whole kingdom, a danger looming over him, now that Antony, joined to him by faithful friendship, had been defeated. Indeed Augustus Caesar, victor of the Actian conflict, did not yet consider Antony fully overcome, so long as Herod remained unconquered. The anxious king, therefore, when he learned by true report that Caesar had come to Rhodes, sailed to meet him, lest rumor should outrun his own journey by land. And on arriving, having set aside his diadem, he presented himself in the dress of a private man, but with the mind of a king. Then, hiding nothing of the truth, he maintained his constancy, and preserved his dignity.

"I confess, Augustus," he said, "that I was a faithful ally to Antony, seeing that I received my kingdom from him, to whom I still do not deny that I remain indebted: and this I would have proved by arms, had Cleopatra not begrudged it, and had the Arabs not hindered me. It was by that necessity that I did not bear arms against you: not as a deserter of a friend, nor as one fearful of battle, but as one occupied with affairs at home. Yet Antony did not find me ungrateful, since even in his absence I sent him reinforcements of troops and countless supplies of grain. But you too, Caesar, would have judged me not ungrateful for his benefits, had I been present at the Actian war. See how nothing do I withhold. I fear more to seem ungrateful before you toward your enemy, than to seem an enemy to you yourself. Your judgment is graver to me than war, before whom not the merits of virtues, but the faults of vices are put on trial.

Hence I would rather plead my case before you on the ground of loyalty, than on the ground of treachery. See, Caesar, how I did not desert Antony while he was whole, nor did I flee him when defeated. You have conquered, Caesar, Antony with your very great legions, you have conquered by your counsels, you have conquered by the strength of the Roman empire, which he abandoned and denied: and truly he was conquered by your virtues, but even more by his own vices. Cleopatra his wife conquered him, Egyptian love conquered him, the luxury of Canopus conquered him. He was conquered, because he preferred to be conquered with Cleopatra, than to conquer without her: a woman more hostile to him than his adversaries conquered him.

I had urged the woman's death, if he wished to look to his own interest: I had promised aid, with which I might repair his shattered fortunes: I had promised forces, with which I might protect him in flight, I had offered myself as a companion in the war: but Cleopatra's desires had bound his mind fast: he was conquered, because he refused to listen to me: I too was conquered along with Antony, yet with lesser disgrace: because Cleopatra conquered him, but Antony conquered me. He did not abandon a barbarian woman, I did not abandon a friend. With him I laid aside the diadem, but coming to you, out of regard for a faithful friend, though fearing, I set aside the insignia of royalty, but I did not cast away the consciousness of my virtue: judge as you will. Yet whatever the outcome of your judgment, I shall carry away with me this at least, that it will be reckoned what sort of friend I was."

Caesar answered him thus: Hail, said he, and now the more enjoy your kingdom, for we do not envy virtues, but delight in them. For you are worthy to rule over more, you who so guard friendship: both in not denying it when placed in adversity, and in not blushing to confess yourself a friend. But it is one thing to cling to the more fortunate and to preserve fidelity in prosperity; another, in adversity—and this you have sufficiently proved. Antony conquered you, but I did not think him conquered whom friendship made equal to the victors. Therefore you are sought after by us, because no outcome of war changed you: since it was not you who deserted Antony, but Antony who deserted you, trusting Cleopatra more than you. His folly gained you for us: for he chose the most ruinous course for himself, and repudiated the faithful one. Nor is it strange if Antony, conquered, clings to Cleopatra, by whom, victorious, he was taken captive.

Why do you wonder that Cleopatra made Antony forsake you, when she separated him from me and made him, from a partner in empire, an enemy? Therefore, since you too were repudiated along with us, for that very reason reign along with us. Nor is this favor without its recompense, that while we were occupied with civil wars, you subdued the untamed nation of the Arabs, since we count the enemies of the Jews as our own. For those who provoke you bring arms against us. You have therefore fought for us, even while you were being conquered on your own account: and so we shall reward you, so that your kingdom may be confirmed by our gift. Meanwhile, that nothing has been diminished is no small favor: we shall press on further, so that you need not miss Antony. For it is not fitting that we should not conquer by goodwill him whom we have conquered in war. When Caesar had said this, he placed the diadem upon his head, adding earnest care to the gift.

Alexander, invited by this mark of Caesar’s esteem, being one of Antony’s friends toward whom Caesar was most indignant, wishing to draw away his displeasure, lamented much with many entreaties: but excessive indignation left no room for pardon. As they set out thence for Egypt, Herod, accompanying Caesar’s march and supplying all things needful either for himself or for the army, won for himself the greatest favor and zeal of the emperor: especially because in the more arid regions, as far as Pelusium, he furnished an abundance of water with royal provision: by which services he so instilled love of himself in all, that he seemed to have deserved more than he had received. Even the power of his kingdom was reckoned less than the generosity of his humanity. Whence Caesar, when affairs in Egypt had turned out according to his wish, and Antony and Cleopatra were dead, not only restored to Herod what had been taken from him, but also, beyond what Cleopatra had diverted, granted him Gadara, Joppa, and Samaria as well.

He also bestowed upon him the maritime cities, Gaza, Anthedon, Joppa, and the Tower of Strato: and he granted the king four hundred Gallic guards, with whom Cleopatra had been wont to be escorted, for the protection of his body, and many other things besides. But more than all these things the king valued this, that he was loved by Caesar above all—yet below Agrippa; and by Agrippa, below Caesar.

And so in the fifteenth year of his reign, that he might respond to his own blessedness and grace, being lifted up by such great success in his affairs, he turned his attention to piety: and, that he might show himself grateful to the heavenly powers for the benefits flowing upon him beyond measure, he adorned the temple: and he surrounded the whole precinct around the temple with a wall, and enclosed it with doubled spaces, at immense cost of building and with exquisite ornament. Evidence of this were the great porticoes around the sanctuary, which he raised from their foundations: his intention to protect being no less than to adorn. Indeed he fortified the citadel lying beneath the north side, which he named in honor of Antony, inferior to none of the palaces above it. He added also, within the very stronghold of the royal house, twin dwellings of the greatest extent and admirable beauty, whose charm you would think nothing could rival.

One of these was called Caesarium, the other Agrippium, so that in his own halls the lasting memory of such great friends might be celebrated. The city of Sebaste too the king not only built but filled with inhabitants. And not to pursue every detail, he scarcely passed by any place of the ancient cities which he did not restore when falling into ruin, or adorn with buildings added where something seemed lacking. He also poured out his liberality even as far as the five-yearly games, whereby he enriched that class of men with lavished wealth. He built also a temple to Caesar of white marble at the springs of the Jordan, so forgetful had he become of religion, that he consecrated a temple to a man, and introduced the custom of the Gentiles into Judea. The place is named Panium: where a mountain of lofty height rises upward to its topmost peak, on whose flank a shadowy cave opens, through which the depth of a foul-smelling chasm breathes forth a fierce miasma.

Within, there was a gathering of waters, and, without any movement, so great a volume that the reckoning of its depth could not be grasped. Outside, however, around the very roots of that cave, springs gush forth: from which many have supposed the Jordan takes its rise there: but what the truth holds, it seems to us should be disclosed later. There was on the coast a city called the Tower of Strato, already worn out by frequent wars, and inclined to ruin by age itself: yet outstanding for the opportuneness and charm of its site, which he restored with white stone, and adorned with various buildings, and in it expressed the virtue of his magnanimity and the elegance of the work.

For it is situated midway between two coastal cities, Dora and Joppa: on either side it is fringed by a harborless shore, so that all who wish to pass from Egypt to Phoenicia are tossed upon the open sea, because the sea there is frequently stirred up by winds, and especially by the Libyan blast, at whose even gentler breath the waves rise up: and then, dashed against the rocks running out before it, and driven back by the broken force, it makes the wild sea rougher still as it falls. And so the king, setting no limit to expense, by his magnanimity overcame nature, and established a harbor greater than the Piraeus; and in it, having penetrated the vastness of the rocks, he built safe anchorages. Measuring out also the space that would suit the greatness of the harbor, he cast huge stones into the sea, of which many had a depth of fifty feet, some even higher.

He marked out the harbor itself with the largest towers, one of which he called Drusion, so as to weave the name of Drusus, who was among the ancestors of Caesar, into the glories of his own work. He interposed also shorter steps at frequent intervals, by which ships might be brought in without heavy labor. He also adorned the whole charm of that harbor with three huge colossal statues. Again, he founded a temple of Caesar on a higher site, and in the middle of the temple set up a colossal statue in the name of Augustus, as it were a likeness of him, which was of no less size than the statue of Olympian Jupiter or Argive Juno. You would not know whether to marvel more at the beauty amid such difficulties, or at the strength of the work; and you might think that its defensive strength contributed more than such great splendor, since the work remains unbreakable both by sea and by age. Manifold advantage therefore accrued from that work.

For the city grew very great for the province, and there was a harbor for sailors, and honor for Caesar, from whose name it is at this time called Caesarea.

This power of the king, flowing with prosperous successes, was brought low by the pursuit of alliance with one woman; and it was broken with sorrowful griefs, from the time when, against right and law, he judged marriage to be measured by a certain royal custom, by the dignity of lineage rather than by love. He had, however, as consort, a woman of Jerusalem named Doris, joined to him earlier in private life, who ought to have been the more pleasing to him in that she had been fortunate as a wife, since with her he had attained the royal summit. But forgetful of gratitude he cast off Doris, and joined to himself Mariamne, granddaughter of Aristobulus, daughter of Alexander. And so, while he pursued nobility, he fell into a disturbance whereby his own household did not agree with itself—his household, to which the manifold peoples of diverse provinces were obedient.

And lest the eyes of the new bride be offended by a stepmotherly hatred lodged in the house, on account of the son whom Doris had borne, Antipater (for that was the young man's name) was banished not only from his father's house but from the whole city as well, making room for that ill-omened marriage—a marriage which the father celebrated with the exile of his only son, and he was scarcely summoned even for the solemnities of feast days. The woman, seeing her husband compliant to her, turned even the reproach of piety into arrogance, and a further cause was added by which her spirit was justly inflamed: because she knew that Hyrcanus, her grandfather, had been destroyed by the plots of her husband, falsely suspected on account of desire for the kingdom.

He is the one of whom we made mention above, whom Barzaphranes, who ruled the Persians, when he had seized Syria, had led away captive, and had kept him first in Parthia, and afterward, at the request of the Jews who dwelt beyond the Euphrates, moved to pity by his fallen fortune, had allowed him to go: and would that, just as he had been granted to those who entreated, so also he had trusted those who warned him, lest the delay of human nature, together with the power of his kinsmen, should tempt him to cross over to Herod—that this would be a danger to him, because nothing stirs up the desire of preserving a kingdom more than kinsmen, and one must beware of relatives. But he, weary of his wandering and longing for his own people, crossed the Euphrates, and returned to Judea.

This sank more deeply into Herod's breast than anyone supposed, not because Hyrcanus had aspired to the kingdom, but because it seemed uncertain whether he could restrain himself from it, being a man of royal lineage and long accustomed to the privilege of power. The marriage to his granddaughter, therefore, on whose account he hastened to Herod, became the snare of death for Hyrcanus: not knowing whether it was safer to live as a captive among enemies, or as a kinsman among kings. And so, with no suspicion, however slight, of aspiring to the kingdom, he was slain for this reason alone, that the kingdom seemed to suit him. Meanwhile Herod loved Mariamne with excessive love, and did not wish to offend her; and the woman had heaped up favor by a more numerous offspring. For she had borne him five children, but of the three males the youngest had died at Rome while being trained in liberal studies. The remaining two were honored with royal splendor beyond the measure of private persons.

The young men had in their favor their mother's nobility, and their own birth within the kingdom, since they had been begotten while their father already reigned—but above all, the love of Mariamne, by which the king was daily kindled more and more: so that, although no return of love was rendered to him by his wife, he still took care not to sadden the woman's mind in anything. In equal balance the woman's hatred and the man's love contended against each other. Yet more justly did Mariamne, loving him, hate her husband, than Herod loved Mariamne who did not love him. The woman had for her hatred the grounds of outrage, for her confidence the grounds of love: because on the one hand she was set against him by grief for her grandfather, on the other she was exalted through the deference of a lover.

And so she did not even refrain from the reproach of casting up crimes against him, that he had by wickedness snatched away from her both her grandfather Hyrcanus and her brother Jonathan, though the one was his father-in-law's predecessor, the other his kinsman by marriage: the former ought to have been spared on account of the weakness of old age, the latter at least on account of his youthful age.

A shameful deed—that to this youth of seventeen years he had entrusted the high priesthood, and immediately conferred honor upon him, and brought death upon him: for no other reason, as we have heard, than that, clad in the priestly vestment, when he first approached the altar on a consecrated and festal day, the people suddenly wept: which seemed so suspicious to Herod, that in his jealousy he believed the people had wept for joy, and thereby had betrayed their affection toward the youth, those tears being tokens of their wish, the people's zeal being dangerous, since it signified in its inmost depths what devotion it held toward the young man's beauty; and that this noble royal grandson, son of an unrestrained woman, brother of a more insolent queen who disdained the king her husband, would break forth to rule, unless he were removed from the midst the sooner—he who possessed such beauty, such grace of comeliness, that he might justly be reckoned worthy to be preferred above all.

He therefore resolved to kill the youth: his mother, sharper in tracking things out and more vehement in avenging them, kept stirring him up, allowing nothing to remain hidden, nothing unavenged, and he deliberated on how to call himself back and restrain himself. Again he was stirred by the ever-increasing love of everyone toward the youth day by day, and by the danger to the kingdom. Whence, roused by headlong fury, he resolved to provide for himself by whatever means.

The young man is sent by night to the city of Jericho, and there, being accustomed to delight in the pursuit of swimming, while a great many gathered as if for sport, he is drowned in a pool by continual submersion beyond measure. His sister did not bear this in silence, but out of sisterly affection revealed it in reproach, and cast it in her husband's face that her brother had been snatched from her by his order. She said she was abandoned by all, that her husband's house was fatal to her, since he had first taken away her grandfather and afterward killed her brother; that she, poor woman, had been the ruin of her own kin. She called down curses upon her husband, upon her mother-in-law, and upon the king's sister; it was a common crime of all; she called on God as avenger, that so great a crime should not go unpunished.

Herod bore this as though captured by love and given over to her whims: but womanly wrath raged, and he could not bear the curses of one who execrated and indignantly displayed her arrogance, especially since, overcome by his own household slave, Herod could not rise up against the neglect he felt; and so, that he might the more be roused as though still a lover, a scene of adultery was contrived, and a charge of this sort was framed against the woman, namely that she had sent her likeness to Antony in Egypt. How great an intemperance it would have been, that to a man absent and prone to lust, and moreover powerful, one who used power instead of right, she should offer her venal beauty so as to entice by loveliness, that by the traffic of a new auction the woman could have offered herself—whether from force of love or hatred of her husband, whose peril she would have demanded as the price of adultery?

By this contrivance of the women, then, Mariamne was, with Herod, the more assailed the more she was loved; nor yet was the accusation itself, though made by indignant women, entirely foreign to the truth: for her mother Alexandra, raging that another was preferred to her son Aristobulus in the priesthood (for she preferred that he be called by this name, Jonathan being her son's name, so as to recall to memory that his grandfather had been king), had sought the priesthood for her son from Antony through one Musurgus, a go-between of letters; and this report was nearer the truth. Then, when Gellius, a friend of Antony, came into Judea, the young man was recognized as a marvel because of the grace of his surpassing beauty.

No less was Mariamne, whose fame was the more illustrious the more distinguished her rank; and it happened, by that peculiar bent of human nature whereby men also wish to show themselves the dearer to their intimate friends the more they extend to them, even in the presence of their own kin, a share in the fellowship of hospitality: there also to Alexandra was given the opportunity of conversing with Sosius, she being a widow of rather free manner, nor could there fail to be further occasion of getting to know the guest, especially since he inquired into causes and persons of this sort. Then, counsel having been taken on both sides, they resolved that the likenesses of both should be sent to Antony.

He, struck by the splendor of the images, and especially by the testimony of Sosius (who affirmed that he had never seen anything like it on earth, and that a grace not human but divine inhered in them, enticingly, so as to arouse the by-no-means sober desires of the man), wrote to Herod that he should send Aristobulus to him without delay: concerning Mariamne, because she was already joined to him, he passed over in silence. Not that he was accustomed to cover his own lusts, or those of women already married to husbands, when he could indulge without danger, disgrace without shame; but that he might guard against Cleopatra's indignation, who would take offense at a rival of either sex, but the more so if she discovered a woman joined to the man; because she reckoned herself to excel all women in beauty.

So, having read the letter, Herod excused himself, saying that he could not tear away the noble young man from his own without sedition of the people and disturbance of the whole nation, and, in order to satisfy Alexandra, promised the priesthood to Aristobulus: but when he saw the promise being delayed, and thought himself being played with by a trick, Alexandra prepared a ship, and, the very preparation for flight having become known, was recalled by counsel through Sabio along with her son. Moved by this, Herod dissembled the injury for a time, and hastened the conferring of the priesthood upon Aristobulus, so as to veil, under the appearance of honor, the odium of a death already prepared; which having been carried out, as we said, he was struck as if by a thunderbolt, and was agitated, at the same time being charged by his own household with a crime of contemplated adultery, since he knew Antony prone to lust, and unveiled in this, that, because he was most powerful, he inflamed toward every kind of amorous desire.

Also, remembering Cleopatra's inexpiable grief and cruelty in matters of rivalry especially—she who had destroyed very many men, elders whom she had found intent on curbing the license of wives—he shuddered at the peril impending over him, not only of losing his wife but even of undergoing death himself. He therefore proposed to go in person into Egypt, so as to turn aside either Antony or Cleopatra, whom he feared most greatly. Others report that, summoned by a letter of Mark Antony, he made for that place to give an account of the causes for which the young man had been killed.

Yet, as he was about to set out, he secretly discloses to his kinsman Josippus, to whom Salome, the king's sister, had been given in marriage, that he suspected the death was caused by desire for his wife's beauty, which the woman was charged with having betrayed by sending a likeness of her own loveliness; and he committed this, as if a matter for a kinsman, that if he himself were killed by Antony, Josippus should slay Mariamne, lest the wages of the disgrace should survive. Josippus, not at all, I think, out of any zeal for betrayal, but in order to still the woman's complaints against her husband, by which she declared herself afflicted, burning with hatred toward her husband, reveals the mandate, and interprets it as a sign of loving affection that Herod could not endure to be separated from his wife's fellowship even in death.

But the woman, far otherwise than Josippus had reckoned, drew it as proof of a cruelty still entwined in his purpose toward her, the execution of which he had commanded even after his own death to his own kinsman; she held him hostile to her by this wrong, in that he examined her suspicions by no proof of truth, but pressed her with the ruin of a headlong death; there would be no end of the hatred which extended beyond the very failure of life and safety. But Josippus, forgetful of his own domestic trouble, while eagerly seeking to reconcile another's wife of his own accord, inflamed his own wife's suspicions against himself: she reckoned that her own husband's conversations with Mariamne, and his delays at the royal court, were by no means to be borne lightly.

At length, when the brother returned, she did not delay her accusations, adding her own injury to the royal insults, namely that Mariamne had taken her husband from her also: but Herod, though somewhat struck, was nevertheless by no means gravely moved at first, nor did he show himself hostile to his wife, since, even broken by the force of love, one day he began to swear to the woman that he loved her with such affection that he had never burned with desire for another woman: so that he had cast all others from his mind, that he might keep faith with his wife. But she said: "You have declared your love for me well enough by the instructions you gave to Josippus, commanding that I be killed.

How can he love, who can kill?" The king, straightway out of his mind when he heard his secret betrayed, began to think that Josippus would never have betrayed it, unless, captured by love of the woman, he had sought the price of the betrayal in adultery; that what long lay hidden was now manifest, the crime open in undoubted corruption: that it was not without cause that his sister was roused, who had detected the domestic wrong above all others.

And so, raging with excessive indignation and beside himself, he leapt from his couch, fleeing the contagion of foul corruption, nor could the palace contain his fury: his sister heard him crying out, and immediately seizing the moment as an argument for accusation and an occasion for doing harm, she confirmed his indignant suspicions: driven, therefore, by the pain of the wrong through his sister's accusation, he ordered both to be killed; nor did repentance for the deeds follow long after: and when his anger fell, love succeeded, and passion was reawakened, and so great a fervor of desire grew hot in him that he did not believe her dead, and, placed beyond the bounds of reason, spoke to her as though she were living. And just as to one who was alive, he sent boys to her, asking that, laying aside her enmities, she should come to him, and restore herself to conjugal favor.

At last, scarcely after a long interval of time, being taught that she had died, he believed it—he who, out of love, as if she were immortal, reckoned that a woman of such beauty could not die. So great was his affection toward the deceased. At length, growing fierce, he is reported afterward to have become exasperated even to the destruction of many who were present, out of hatred, and not only to have labored under sickness of mind, but also under grievous bodily illness, which they said was contracted also from the pestilence of the air. For a more corrupted tract of sky brought plague upon very many. Wherefore, having consulted those skilled in medicine, he hid himself in the seclusion of the forests, and, his vigor gradually restored, by hunting he recovered health of body together with health of mind.

This too he added to his marvels, by which he looked up to the memory of the departed with reverence, that he had paid the penalty of an unjust crime, and that the death of so great beauty had been expiated by the sickness of the elements; that by the destruction of the world, by the plague of peoples, one death had been avenged, though by an unequal lot, since the earth refused its fruits, and famine increased the pestilence. Such was the end Mariamne met, chaste toward her husband soberly, yet insolent in the consciousness of her beauty. In her, greatness of spirit overflowed, but diligence was lacking, so that she disdained her husband's blandishments, secure in the thought that she could suffer no ruin from one who loved her beyond measure: nor did she find vengeance only for the present, but transmitted hereditary hatreds for the future as well.

She was succeeded by sons who were avengers of their mother's grief, with a piety indeed dutiful toward their mother, but impious toward their father: since by an equal debt on the part of both parents the law of nature was to be discharged for either. Nor did grief find them unpracticed: for having long been trained at Rome in Latin as well as Greek letters, they had acquired no small cunning, and, though absent, had learned of their mother's death, and were embittered by many who incited them to hatred of their father. When they returned, not even the reverence of their father's presence infused any diligence into them; their malice grew with their years. There was added also, from the fellowship of marriage, a presumption, because to the one Salome's daughter, Herod's granddaughter, and to the other a daughter born of Archelaus, who held the kingdom of Cappadocia, had been joined in nuptial union, and the nobility of the connection had given authority to their hatreds.

Herod, therefore, was offended, whether by the silent temperament of his sons or by some provocation, such as fatherly affection could suffer, which is often wounded even by a look. Goads were added also by those who, as if anxiously concerned, frequently gave warning that precautions must be taken against the sons' plots, asserting that they were arming avenging hands for their mother's death. Terrified by these, Herod began to prefer Antipater, son of Doris, above his brothers, and to provoke rivalry with a more abundant show of favor toward himself.

The royal court burned with greater hatreds, and was shaken by the brothers' contention: while those resented that the son of a private woman was preferred to them who were born to the kingdom; he, cunning in flattery, since he perceived himself inferior by his mother's lowly birth, all the more zealously commended himself to his father, and did not cease to attack his brothers with contrived accusations, until he himself, both through himself and through others whom he had attached to himself, excluded them from their father's affection. At length he took away from them all hope of reigning, so that, a will having been publicly drawn up, he alone was designated successor to the empire, and, sent to Caesar at Rome, besides the mark of the diadem, he was supported with every royal adornment and honor.

Thence, having returned into Judea, with Caesar's favor and that of very many illustrious men increased toward him, in scarcely a short interval of time he prevailed so far that he even joined his mother in marriage to his father: and with twin weapons, the art of flattery and the cunning of dissembling, he began to press his brothers before their father, so that the son sought to prepare death for the father. At length, raging in spirit, he sought Rome, dragging Alexander along with him, whom he set as a defendant before Caesar on a charge of sorcery against himself.

Alexander, given the opportunity of bewailing his calamity and all his misfortunes, when he saw that he had at his disposal the authority of so great a judge, one who could neither be led astray by favor by Herod, nor be circumvented by Antipater, thought that nothing should be passed over, and touched upon his father's crimes with a certain moderation, so that he might neither seem to press him as an accuser, nor allow them to remain hidden, since it would greatly help his case if he showed that he was being sought out by his father's hatred on account of his grief for his mother's death. For in such trials nothing weighs more heavily against children than natural piety and the authority of piety: which, if somewhat impugned by a charge, has its presumption in their favor diminished, its privilege excluded.

But when it came to his father's charges against him, refuting them with strong assertions, he showed first that his brother, who was a companion of his own dangers, was innocent of the crime, and groaned that one guiltless was being called to account. His right to act and his skill in speaking bore witness to a clear conscience, that nothing of honor was left to himself and his brother, all having been taken away through his brother's wickedness and his father's easiness. Most bitterly he lamented that death was being laid upon him, which his father sought so far as to add a crime, to attach a disgrace. By these words he drove all present to tears, and brought the outcome of the trial to this point, that the accusation was not accepted by Caesar, and the father embraced reconciliation. This was very pleasing and most excellent to the Roman prince, that he had not only given a kingdom to a famed king, but had also restored him his children.

And so it was determined by just examination, that thus the reverence of paternal right should remain inviolate, and the innocence of the sons safe; that the children should obey their father, as was fitting. He himself should restrain in his sons the natural affection unoffended; yet he might leave the kingdom to whomever he wished. Alexander returned from the city of Rome with his father, acquitted more by judgment than by removal of suspicion. For Antipater would not allow Herod's mind to be free from hatred of his sons: for he himself was the substance of the hatreds: yet he suppressed his zeal in view of the reconciliation, lest he betray the scene of the sought-after brotherly harmony, lest he reveal his plots. When they came into Cilicia, and, sailing, put in at Eleusa, Archelaus received them with a sumptuous banquet, giving thanks for Alexander's sake, his son-in-law, because he had judged him, delivered from danger, worthy even of reconciliation.

He himself also, letters having been sent through his own men, had asked his friends to be a help of defense to his son-in-law, and on his departure offered thirty talents as a gift of hospitality, and escorted him as far as Zephyrium to the king. Having returned home, the king immediately summons the people, before whom he discoursed in this manner.

Now, Hebrew citizens, my reason for seeking Rome was both useful and fruitful, namely, that Caesar should judge concerning my sons: lest I alone, who was angry, should also be the one to decide, I went on to Caesar, that he who had given back the kingdom might pronounce concerning my successor. He added to his kindnesses this, that—what was difficult—he restored to a father sons nearly lost; to brothers he restored concord, which is above a kingdom. I return, therefore, richer than I set out: I have learned to be a better father, because my sons have learned, by Caesar's kindness, to be better children. For he decreed that the succession of the sons should depend on my judgment, lest the prerogative of succession should breed pride. I myself was to give them a successor of my own choosing: namely, him who should have deserved it, him who should have honored his father more. I will imitate Caesar; for he himself, by acquitting my younger sons, made them equal to the elder son.

Therefore I this day appoint all three of my children as kings together: for the one, age speaks; for the others, nobility; and let not the number trouble you: the greatness of the kingdom suffices even for more. God is the first arbiter of my decision; then do you also assent: you whom Caesar has joined, whom their father has appointed, follow with fitting honor, that the honor be neither excessive nor too low: for the one puffs up, the other embitters. Let what suffices to each one's merit of his portion be allotted. For no one delights so much him whom he honors beyond measure, as he wounds him to whom what is owed is denied. And for the most part both are offended, where there is flattery of preference. I am certainly father to all. The honor of the sons is, without doubt, the glory of the father.

Yet if anyone should exalt my children beyond measure, he is guilty before me even on behalf of my children, of whom he is the author of their fall: for excessive cultivation is the price of audacity. Do I then envy my own children? Far from it: but I prefer that they have less with favor, than very much with sedition. For what belongs to pride or to plunder quickly slips away: what belongs to favor is long retained. Whence it will be my care to join to my children, as sureties of concord, parents and friends, by whose exhortation they may put on the affection of mutual love.

For since every evil speech easily infects the mind of the hearer, so especially do continual conversations and long familiarity tend to pour pestilence into souls, whereby the contagion passes, as it were, quickly into the character of those who dwell together: even though there be tranquility of character, yet as a calm pool, however gentle, can rise into surging waves when winds stir it, so a good nature wavers under wicked counselors. I judge, therefore, that each one ought to place his chief hope in me; for what accrues to my children is not lost to me. Each of the tribunes or soldiers ought to revere the father of the emperors more. I, I am the one who will repay reward to all, even for what you shall have shown to my sons. If I perceive your intentions to be upright, I will reward them with deeds; malevolence will bring back its own price, so that even with him whom it thought to flatter, it will fall short of fruit.

But you, good sons, consider first the reverence of nature, whose grace binds even beasts, which compels even wild creatures to the love of kinship: mutual love remains among untamed cattle, and beasts ransom their own at the risk of their own lives. Revere also Caesar, who has made you friends out of enemies. Thirdly, revere myself, who prefer to ask rather than to command, though I could command: remain brothers, do not burn up what you were begotten to be. I give you imperial garb and adornment: but more precious is what I urge, the unblemished seal of your mutual love. Let the sons be honored only so far as the father permits.

If piety remains, the kingdom delights; if favor is lacking, rule is worthless and for the most part harmful. Therefore, while I test you, you will meanwhile have not the kingdom, but the honor of the kingdom. If you shall have loved your father, the right will follow: yet prove to me your love in yourselves: you shall possess, as princes, all those things by which a kingdom is wont to delight. The burdens of empire and the mass of affairs will remain with me alone, even if I should not wish it. And therefore it profits you that I should wish it: because I both wish for what is yours, and consider it my own. Having said these things, he kissed his sons, that with one kiss of love he might bind them together to one another. This done, he dismissed the assembly.

Most departed rejoicing, to whom the concord of brotherhood was pleasing: but dissension returned with the brothers, and the graver for this, that the higher rank was the more envied, and there was greater power to do harm. The sons of Mariamne grieved that the son of a private woman, ignorant of the lineage of royalty, was made equal to them. Antipater on the other hand disdained the hope of kingship divided with his brothers, and envied his half-brothers, to whom scarcely the later place was reserved instead of the first. But this one concealed and veiled himself, presenting favor as a cover for hatred, while for those others every counsel lay open in speech, even to those not seeking it. His tongue was too ready and prodigal of secrets: whatever they had spoken in Alexander's presence was at once with Antipater; many things too which they had not said were feigned. The go-between added many things with increase.

Antipater was the architect of everything by which the brothers were assailed, whose life was nothing else but a kind of assembly of wiles, a stage of wickedness, a proof of crimes, a service of shameful deeds.

He suborned judges, he suborned witnesses, he feigned defense, carrying about, as it were in a theater, the role of a brother, so that he might shake off the lighter charges, and yield to the graver ones, whereby he might the more deceive his father, and the more violently move him against his brothers; and he especially embittered by art the envy of the parricide prepared against the father, so that the kingdom might be snatched away, because to kings the fear of danger is the more suspect: but lest without a refuter the charges should seem less plausible to the king, he himself first attempted to refute them, then wished to seem constrained by manifest evidence of the matter, so that, the case having been pleaded on both sides, as though nothing further were lacking to the judgment, the father might be roused as against convicted sons: for nothing gave greater credence to the assertions than that Antipater was reckoned the defender of his brothers.

By this fraud he captured very much favor, and inclined even his father's own mind toward himself. Whatever was daily diminished for the brothers was transfused from the father's affection onto him. He brought in the king's friends and kinsmen, and especially the king's own brother Pheroras, and Salome his sister, whom he had made estranged from his nephews, so that they not only did not defend them, but even assailed and hated them. There was added, as material for hatreds, Alexander's wife Glaphyra, who, rather insolent as a woman in her present circumstances, had begun to exalt herself with a proud haughtiness, because she surpassed all in the splendor of her lineage. Thus she preferred herself as mistress over all who were in the royal court, being accustomed to boast of her father and grandfather kings, and especially Darius Hydaspes as the pinnacle of her maternal lineage, and to afflict with insults of low birth Salome, the king's sister, or Doris his consort: which was grief to them, hatred to her.

She likewise exasperated the other women too, who were joined to the king more for beauty than for nobility of lineage. For Herod, contrary to royal custom, delighted in many wives, even by the practice of the Jews, as by a certain license of error, who take the vices of their ancestors as a cover for their own. Alexander therefore was burdened by his wife's insolence: Aristobulus too assailed his wife with the same speeches as Glaphyra had used, saying she was of a lower condition, not to be compared with royal offspring: that she was unequal to Glaphyra and a reproach to himself, because his brother possessed a wife of royal stock, while he himself had degenerated into cohabitation with a private wife—mad man, to disturb by reproach his own necessities. Struck by these insults, Aristobulus's wife carried it all to her mother with tears.

Salome, having learned of it through her daughter, reported it to King Herod: but he, thinking it more advantageous to warn his sons than to destroy them, summoned them and partly terrified them with imperial authority, partly exhorted them with paternal affection to love their brother, and not to be at variance as enemies, granting pardon for past matters, denouncing correction for the future. But they, complaining that they were assailed by more numerous fabricated accusations, begged and at the same time promised that by their very deeds they would henceforth give assurance of proper loyalty in their defense: only let the father wait for the deed, lest he believe rashly what was heard: for wicked informers would not be lacking as long as a credulous hearer was available.

With their father softened by these and such words, although they had for that time repelled the imminent fear, yet they heaped up sorrow, because they saw themselves beset by Pheroras and Salome: of whom the one was an uncle, the other a father's sister, who ought to have been their defenders, yet plotted against them: for a heavy dread was added, because these two had very great power with the father. For after receiving the diadem, Herod had shared nearly the whole power of the kingdom with his brother, and had bestowed no small wealth on each, and especially on Pheroras. Indeed he set aside for them a hundred talents yearly, besides that region situated beyond the Euphrates, which multiplied abundance of revenues. He had also been made tetrarch at Herod's request by Caesar, and was further honored with a royal marriage connection, since he had taken to wife the sister of the royal consort.

After her death, when the elder daughter of the king had been betrothed to him and was to succeed to favor by marriage, he declined the union with the royal maiden, being captivated instead by love for a slave-girl. Herod, exasperated by this insult, gave that daughter to his son, who later died in the Parthian war. Yet Pheroras was accused before him of having sought his brother's life by poisons. Of this suspicion he was not cleared even while his wife lived: after examination first of very many, and finally of his friends, wishing to find him innocent of the crime of which he was accused, he acquitted him; granting also pardon for the flight, because, having carried off the slave-girl he loved, by the confessions of his own associates he was disclosing the manner in which he had planned to flee to the Parthians.

Alexander had breathed a little easier, while Pheroras, accused, was under attack, and he himself attacked Salome, because she had promised her marriage to Obodas' minister Syllaeus, who was Herod's bitterest enemy. But when the charge on both sides was dropped, the storm of the household fell upon Alexander, and involved him in grave danger: for the savage pestilence raged, and Antipater was the tempest of the whole court. Bearing down on his brother in every way, even through gatherings of kinsmen, so that, the state of his sober mind being disturbed, the father with loud cries protested that Alexander was pressing upon him with a sword. There had come into the open a scene of this sort: that three eunuchs, of whom one was accustomed to serve the king cups, another to bring in the dishes of dinner, the third to watch over the royal couch and never to depart when Herod had composed himself upon the bed, Alexander had enticed by rather generous gifts to his favor and to partnership in a shameful vice.

When this was betrayed, the eunuchs, driven by tortures, revealed the mockeries of obscene lust, unable even to conceal the amorous promises with which they had been solicited in this manner, and revealed at what price of debauchery, so that the parricide, wrapped in disgrace, might be believed—namely, that he had in himself the grace of youth, the beauty of form, the vigor of age, as against the feeble Herod, now heavy with old age, who dyed his hair lest his age betray itself; from whom, when he wished, he would transfer to himself the right of ruling, and promised them huge rewards: and therefore they ought to place their hope in the young man, not in the decrepit old man whose end nature itself was hastening.

These things moved Herod gravely indeed: but this above the rest, that he had learned by the eunuchs' information that the military force and the leaders of the army and the centurions were conspiring with him: at length he was so agitated that he thought no kind of severity should be omitted, trusted no one, held all suspect. Punishments were swifter than the interrogations of the crimes, and the outcome preceded the judgment. Men were seized here and there for punishment, whom some suspicion assailed. Calumnies boiled over; many, wishing to please the king, denounced the accused: but immediately those very ones who had denounced others were themselves denounced, and were led with their own accused to the place of punishment. So had Herod grown savage against all, so that if any of them survived, he would be suspect. The king thought himself in no other way secure, unless the human race itself should fail.

Irreconcilable toward the accused, incredulous toward friends, haughty toward intimates, merciless toward the accused, fearful of everything, so that he frequently changed his residence, spent nights without sleep. Suddenly exasperated against everyone, he bound Alexander with chains and hedged him about with guards, and summoned his friends to be examined. Those who denied died amid tortures. Again, those who kept silence, because they confessed nothing consonant with the suspicions, were tormented even to the point of supreme death. Yet some, overcome by the force of torments and the bitterness of punishments, asserted that it had been proposed by the young men that they should kill their father while he was intent upon hunting, and go without delay to the city of Rome, so that the penalty of flight might be forestalled. Although this was supported by no proof, yet the father turned it to the solace of his fierce zeal, wishing to have just causes for his son's chains.

Alexander, therefore, considering that his father's ears were closed to every defense of himself, and that he could by no means be brought around to presume upon his own innocence, assailed as he was by such masses of calumnies, thought he must meet the most wicked informers with a like art, so that he might circumvent the deceitful contrivers of calumny with their own wiles, and summon into calumny those by whose calumnies he believed himself pressed. He therefore wrote four booklets, in which he confessed the fabricated scheme of the crime by which he was said to have sought his father's life, and set forth as accomplices of such plots most of those by whom he himself was being assailed: and in these same books he named especially Pheroras and Salome: that she also, in the dead of night, having broken into the bedroom of the young man where he lodged, had lured him though unwilling, and by force compelled the reluctant one to commit incest.

He sent the booklets to the king, as though indices of their own crimes, in which he had implicated the most powerful of the king's companions and friends. At that time Archelaus, having hastened to Judea, arrived, so that if he could, he might bring aid and help to his son-in-law and daughter. But foreseeing that access was blocked to him with a father so thoroughly hostile, he repressed his agitation by the art of legitimate defense. For as soon as he had entered the royal court, in a loud voice, when he was now being heard and seen by Herod, he began to cry out as though raving in mind: "Does that poisoner, my son-in-law, still live, and does he still enjoy this light? Where, I ask, is he? Where shall I find that parricidal head, that I may tear it out with my own hands? He deserves to perish by parricide who wished to accomplish parricide. What will he do to his father-in-law, who did not spare his father?

Who will point him out to me? I will first disembowel the wicked one, and add my daughter to the good bridegroom; even if she was not privy to the crime, yet she is not free from the contagion, who possessed the union of a parricide. I do not acknowledge my daughter, who did not detect her husband's arts, who did not show herself such a messenger to her father-in-law as to deliver up the plotting son to his father. I did not join her to be a minister of crime, but a partner of matrimony; that I might make her a co-heir of favor, not an assistant of crime. I marvel at you, Herod, if that plotter against his father, Alexander, still lives. I thought he had already paid just penalties, whom it was not fitting even to have denounced. For why should such a confessed one, or such a parricide, be kept any longer?

But perhaps this too has been of divine providence, that he who violated in you the piety due to both parents should be condemned by the judgment of both parents. I will not deny myself an avenger, I who was preparing myself to be a proclaimer of exacted vengeance; but I do not exempt my daughter, whom I myself betrothed in this ill-omened marriage, having followed you as sponsor: for I did not hand her over to her husband's character, but to your good faith. Let her render account, for she concealed her surety, she loved her husband. Judgment now lies with you both: if you are a firm executor of so great a grief, gird yourself, father, set aside piety: not indeed a duty to be wished for by fathers, but not to be dissembled.

If piety softens you, if nature bends you, let us exchange roles, so that I in your son, you in my own pledge, may be mutual executors of this office." Circling round with a speech of this kind, he won Herod over, and gradually softened the intensity of his mind from fury, so that, as though sympathizing and of one mind with him, he believed him, and gave him the booklets to read which Alexander had composed. But he, noting each point, when he perceived that they were heaped up more by grief than supported by good faith, with deep counsel began gradually to diminish the odium of the parricidal attempt, and to transfer the causes of the charges onto those who had been named, and especially onto Pheroras. And so when he perceived that the king was not averse to his opinion, he said: "It must be considered whether perhaps the young man has been more assailed before you by the plots of such great wicked men, than you have been assailed by the young man.

For what cause was there that he should seek your life, to whom you had granted the honor of the kingdom, for whom you were reserving the right of ruling and the hope of succession? For what would he seek, that he did not already have? Or how could he be ungrateful for such great gifts? Or what else would he be doing by your death, except courting his own peril? For what he could not fear while you lived, he would fear once you were dead, from those very ones under whom, even while placed under his father, he would shudder at the destruction of his own safety. That age is open to deceit, is easily deceived, and is circumvented by the plots of the fraudulent; scarcely does even old age resist wiles: yet often even the prudence of old men, when circumvented, is ensnared by cunning plots. If, then, riper experience has often been undermined, what wonder if immature age could not stand by itself, when pressed by throngs of plotters?

These, therefore, are the disturbers of the royal household, these the instigators of the young men, the sowers of discords, who have driven the young man into despair of his safety, so that he yielded more to indignation, and aimed rather at revenge than at acquittal, imparting something also to his own agitation." By these words Herod began gradually to be bent, and to soften his indignation toward Alexander. But truly he was moved the more vehemently against Pheroras, because in those four booklets he himself was exposed as the minister of all the crimes, and the architect of the whole scene. He, seeing that the king had inclined his mind to Archelaus, and that with him above all others the favor of an inner friendship outweighed all else, betook himself to him, beseeching that he restore the king's goodwill toward himself.

But Archelaus, saying that he was entangled in bonds of very many crimes, by which he could evidently be convicted of having plotted against the king, and of having assailed the young man, said he had no hope of pardon, unless, laying aside the cunning of denial, he should not hesitate to confess to his loving brother the things objected against him, and to beg indulgence from that same one: he himself would not be lacking in such action, by whatever zeal he could. So, with garment changed, drenched in tears, clinging in a pitiable guise to his brother's footsteps, he begged pardon, confessed his wickedness, did not deny anything of which he was accused, but acknowledged that madness had been the cause to him of so great a fall, in that excessive fury had blazed up in him from love of the woman he cherished. Thus I set down Pheroras as both summoner and witness of his own crimes, as though composed for a price, in that it fell to his own uses as an argument.

Archelaus besought Herod to soften his anger out of regard for nature, and to forgive his brother, setting the right of nature above vengeance. Nor is it strange, if in the greatest kingdoms, as in great bodies, certain members often become inflamed, which are not to be cut off, but to be treated with gentler remedies. He said that far graver plots had been laid against himself by his own brother, but that he had yielded to necessity what was due to his grief; so that the more he lightened the punishment of the ungrateful one, the more he might aggravate the cause. When he had woven in these and other such things, he indeed mollified Herod, so that he forgave his brother, but he himself remained inexorable toward his son-in-law.

At length he threatened that he would tear his daughter away from him, and raged with such movements of his indignation, that Herod himself thought his son's crime against himself sufficiently expiated, and begged him to be the avenger of his own injuries, and himself interceded for his own accused before his father-in-law, that he might renew the marriage anew. Archelaus persisted, saying that Herod might join his daughter-in-law to whomever else he wished, except Alexander: for whose sake also his wife would be handed over, and by this art he impelled Herod much more, so that he might think his daughter restored to him, if her marriage were not dissolved: for he loved his wife exceedingly, by whom he had also begotten sons, dear to their grandfather, welcome to their parents; this would be the gift of a restored son to him, because no small part of a good wife's virtue would restrain a husband's errors, or compensate by her services for the odium of his crimes.

If she were torn away from him, there would be no remedy left for the husband, but he would rush headlong into every wickedness. For the presumptions of crimes were wont to become milder, when recalled by domestic affections. At last Archelaus, scarcely bent, is reconciled to his own son-in-law, and reconciles the father to him as well. By this counsel he snatched his son-in-law from death, so that he received his acquittal as a reward, while pretending rather to condemn him than to intercede for him. For if he had thought he should intercede for him, doubtless he would have obtained nothing. He added that he ought to go to Rome, purged of those things which the father had suspected in him, since he himself had written everything to Caesar. Which I reckon to have been equally contrived, so that by this device, once Alexander had cleared himself, he might be commended to Caesar, and the plots prepared by Antipater against his brothers might come to light.

By this counsel the faction was dissolved and the discord turned into rejoicing; a banquet is renewed as a token of the reconciliation begun, whose authors, Archelaus, are given seventy talents, and a golden seat set with gems: chosen eunuchs also are conferred with royal magnificence, and a concubine (whose name was Panichis) is given as a gift, and accepted. Likewise the kinsmen too, at the king's bidding, honored Archelaus with the most splendid gifts, nor was any of his household without a share of gift; to all of whom Herod bestowed very much according to each one's merit. He also escorted Archelaus, together with his men of power, as far as the most splendid city of Syria, named Antioch, as he was returning to his own kingdom. Alexander would have escaped, had he not plunged himself into the hands of a man of Judea far more skilled in arts than Archelaus, a Laconian by birth, named Eurycles, exceedingly greedy of wealth, and a despiser of it only when a hope of greater gain shone forth.

In short, not content with his Laconian resources, he had set his mind upon royal profusions, and, an artful hunter, having assailed Herod first with ancient and rich gifts, he prepared the way for a most ample repayment; and having obtained far richer returns than he had offered, he was still not satisfied, unless he should buy for himself the king's favor by bloody and impious factions. And so, by a certain custom and usage familiar to the Greeks, by flattering the king, and by extolling all his qualities—not only those deserving praise, but also those wrapped up in vice—he came in a short time into his closest friendship, so that he was chosen among the foremost arbiters of his secrets: the prerogative of his native land also lending support, since the Jews hold the Spartans, joined to them by kinship of race, as brothers.

When he had learned the vices of the royal house, the suspicious mind of the father, and the mutual hatreds of the brothers, feigning himself dear to all by new arts, he was held as faithful by each; but according to the king's disposition or the reward of gifts he shaped his efforts, so as to be more closely attached to Antipater; while he encompassed Alexander with tricks and snares, exasperating each under the guise of friendship: telling the one that he, by the prerogative of age, was owed the kingdom, and telling the other that he, endowed with the nobility of his mother's lineage, was rightly the superior; and that there could be no equal partnership with the offspring of the vilest corruption.

By these words Alexander, being caught, as being the younger, who delighted in what was said to him, did not weigh what in turn was being contrived about him with Antipater, poured himself out to Antipater's hireling and his own betrayer, and opened his mind with a slippery disposition and an incautious affection, complaining that his father was the author of evils to him, who had snatched away his mother, had tarnished the kingdom, seeking to divert from him what was owed to him from his grandfather and the honors of his ancient lineage; that the lawful heirs were being defrauded of their right of succession, while a bastard, the price of a disgraceful union, was preferred; but that the judgments of God would not long remain quiet, so that he who had killed an innocent wife should not himself also, in turn, be swiftly deprived of the power he had prepared through his wife.

These things without delay the Laconian carried to Antipater, having also entangled Aristobulus, so that he too should be caught in the snares of the same complaints, and, having heaped them up for a price, he insinuated them to the king, saying that he could not bear in silence so monstrous a crime, and that, in return for the kindness of hospitality, he was repaying the favor of light which the sons were proceeding to snatch away, whom, had he himself not recalled them by the pretense of more faithful counsel, they would already long ago have slain their father by Alexander's sword, and left the kingdom emptied for unworthy heirs. Nor was it a matter of scruple to Alexander to commit parricidal atrocity, he who reckoned it the greatest crime that he still had the death of his grandfather and mother unavenged. That he was being approached and pressed by the complaints of the slain, that he should avenge so atrocious a crime.

That the offerings due to the slain were being demanded of him, and that their succession ought not to be defiled, so that the kingdom should be gained by one who had slain their ancestors; that he would renew the judgments of Caesar, not with the same reverence as before, but so that Caesar himself might know all the secrets of the king, the wealth sought by blood, the province shaken; that he would fetch up the grandfather from the dead, and demonstrate the most bitter death of the mother, so that a foreign successor might be substituted into the royal kingdom. Eurycles had stirred up the king; Antipater, however, esteeming lightly the suggestion of one man, suborned other accusers also against the brothers, who should say that with the former commanders of the cavalry, Jocundus and Tyrannus, a conversation had been begun, that plots against the king had been arranged out of grief for his abdication; that the danger was upon his neck unless he took timely precaution.

In short, Herod did not delay, and at once, having seized them, he interrogates them severely; but nothing is found confessed by them concerning what they were accused of. And because such grave charges were feigned with impunity before one who professed himself an avenger of crimes and negligent of calumnies, there were not lacking those who devised snares of this sort, which they believed would be more acceptable to the father. For a letter also was produced, as though given by Alexander and Aristobulus to the commander of a fortress, that, once the king was slain, he should give them the power of taking refuge there, until they should fortify themselves with arms against those pursuing them, and prepare defense with other resources. The commander of the fortress is tortured, and confesses nothing. Nevertheless, though no indications of an attempted crime were apparent, Alexander and Aristobulus are, as though guilty, given into custody. Eurycles, presented with fifty talents, is regarded as the author of safety and life.

It is fitting not to keep silent about him too, who at the time of Eurycles had been sent into Judea, the most faithful of Alexander's friends, whom the king thought should be questioned as a sharer in his attempts: whether the things which the Spartan had reported about the young men agreed. But he, having interposed an oath, gave assurance that he had known nothing of any such thing concerning them: but it profited the young men nothing. He kept the inquiry from himself, lest he diminish the odium of the informer's charge, and nullify Eurycles' fraud, if, questioned more severely, he should deny it. As though unworthy, therefore, of being believed, he is excluded by Herod. For the good father was glad to hear his sons accused, and would not allow them to be defended: he took delight when they were assailed; he was offended if they were cleared. In the end, enriched with royal rewards, when he had reached Sparta, he paid the price of his calumnies.

Salome, when she was unable to clear herself, because she had agreed on marriage with Syllaeus the Arab, when she betrayed the secret to her son-in-law, who was advising her to look to her own safety in order to escape her brother's displeasure, on the ground that, in hope of a future union, she was being summoned as suspect of announcing the counsels of the Arabian king, earned pardon for her offense, and turned the whole storm of royal savagery upon the young men, by whose final and unavoidable shipwreck they were submerged and paid the penalty.

Accordingly they are bound, and—what was harder for them than the chains—the brothers are separated from each other; and Volumnius, master of the soldiery, and Olympus, one of the king's friends, being sent, they are accused before Caesar: but he, though offended because a father was demanding the punishment of his sons, yet, thinking that power should not be denied to a father, granted license over his own children, but added counsel: asserting that he would counsel better, if a council of the king's kinsmen and of those who were governors of the provinces were assembled, and the inquiry proceeded by common judgment: whether any plots had indeed been prepared by the sons against their father; and if they were convicted of attempted parricide, let them be struck down; but if, on the other hand, they were convicted of flight or of a lighter fault, let the vengeance be more moderate.

This power over the parricide having been granted to him, but with the condition of a trial and the admonition of moderation, Herod at once hastens to the city of Berytus, which Caesar had prescribed for holding the trial. The governors of the provinces assemble according to the letters sent to them by the Roman prince Caesar. Saturninus and the legates take their seats, among whom also the procurator Volumnius; then the kinsmen and friends of the king, Salome also and Pheroras, and the chief men of Syria. Archelaus alone is excepted from Cappadocia, being summoned because his favor toward his son-in-law was suspected, while the accusers and plotters against the young men presented the case for trial. But what semblance of a trial was this, where the accused were not permitted to be present, and were accused in their absence? For Herod was aware that, if they were merely seen, men's disposition being prone to mercy, they would at once be acquitted: especially where there was the natural prerogative of favor.

Then, too, if any opportunity of defense were allowed to Alexander, whereby he might easily dissolve the charges. And so, with them banished to the village of the Sidonians, the accusation was directed as though against those present. Plots against himself prepared by the father were alleged; no proof was brought forward, no indications of attempts; the accuser was at a loss, whom no one refuted. Being abandoned on every side, he heaped up the odium of insults, the kinds of injuries, which those who considered them judged more grave than death. But no one examined, no one dared to scrutinize, what was alleged by the father, commanded by the king. The appearance of piety prejudged the case, the right of power terrified, he asked for sentences secure of victory, not knowing that in such a trial the one who prevailed was more wretched than those who were so bitterly condemned. Saturninus condemns the young men, because nothing else was permitted.

But he moderates the sentence, asserting that care must be taken lest, with two of the three brothers slain, the death of the two be charged to the third brother. Timidly indeed—but he stated the reason, that he would be the author of danger to his brothers. A few out of the many followed him. But Volumnius murmurs deadly words, and after him all, at the king's wish, weighing the sentence of death by such an authority, with differing feelings indeed, but by equal lot, pronounce it—men whom either flattery had wrung this from or hatred had instilled it into, so that either the king's favor might be courted, or the cruelty of the parricide might be visited with a heavier penalty, he who in his victory had won for himself so bitter a triumph. Yet no one shuddered as at a deed done, nor pronounced as though moved.

For it was the semblance of a stage-show, not the discipline of a trial, to condemn the absent, to condemn without witness, without informer, by the sole privilege of nature, which is wont to be turned rather to safety than to danger. All Syria and all Judea was stunned, and with astonished minds awaited the end of so great a tragedy. Although the cruelty of Herod was well known, no one could yet believe that he would persevere even to parricide. But in him that savage force of spirit was contained neither by sea nor land. And so, as though by the practice of triumphers, that he might drag his sons through diverse places, he makes for Tyre, a renowned city, thence he crosses over to Caesarea, carrying about by ship the wretched spectacle of parricide, until some color might be found for the most bitter death of his sons. All the army was moved, but out of fear suppressed its indignation.

There was in the royal army a man of long service named Tyro, having a son joined in friendship to Alexander, a most indulgent father, and for that reason dear as a pledge, since there is a certain grace of popular affection, and it is especially alluring toward love of one's own. Toward the young sons of the king also he was more favorably disposed, because his own son was loved by them. He, having conceived indignation beyond measure, troubled in mind, began to cry out: that justice was being oppressed, truth excluded, religion abolished, the rights of kinship and the grace of nature confounded, that iniquities overflowed. At last, advancing into the very presence of the king, he charged that he was wretched who thought that the most wicked men should be believed against his own sons: Pheroras and Salome, the arbiters of the king's counsel.

What faith could be brought back by these, who very frequently acknowledged themselves condemned to death by the king, or what else were they doing, but taking counsel for vengeance, that he, deprived of suitable successors, might incline to one weaker than the rest? Who might easily be removed, because the royal army itself would pursue with hatred the one for whom the death of two brothers had been loosed. There was no one whom the mercy due to innocent age did not touch. Moreover most of the commanders were no longer suppressing their indignation, but publishing it. Having spoken their names, he made an end of speaking.

Whereupon, these men having been at once seized along with Tyro, Tryphon, one of the servants of the royal court, whose art and practice supplied him skill in shaving, suddenly, out of a certain vanity of mind, gives information against himself, asserting that it had been arranged by Tyro, and that he had been persuaded, that when he shaved Herod's beard as usual, he should press the razor into his throat, so as to accomplish the murder: and that this would be of the greatest advantage to him, since it was promised him out of the gifts of Alexander. Tyro is set up together with his son; the examination is then conducted upon both together. As they deny it, and the other brings forward nothing further, since manifest proof was lacking, no argument was available, no evidence of proof, Tyro is ordered to be tortured with more violent torments.

Then the son, pitying his father's tortures, promises that he will disclose everything, if his father's safety be granted him, and pardon is offered by the king he suggests, that his father, impelled by Alexander, had prepared death for the king. And this most people judged to have been arranged for the occasion, so that by such a token of a pledge provision might be made for Tyro: others spoke of the edict as true. But Herod adjudged the doubtful as certain, as though fearing lest the opportunity for parricide should slip from him. Accordingly, having convoked the people, and the commanders being assembled, with the gravest agitation he brings forth his complaint about the plots detected, and stirs up the populace against their death: and there Tyro, together with his son and likewise the barber, are slain with stones and clubs.

Alexander also and Aristobulus, sent to the city of Sebaste, which was not far from the city of Caesarea, were strangled by their father's command. This was the end that the sons of Mariamne had, by whose death Antipater, not long rejoicing, no doubt flattered himself with the succession now that they had been removed: but soon no light hatred of him blazed up among the whole nation, because it was evident to all that his brothers had perished through his faction. There followed also no small fear as he considered how manifold from day to day the offspring of the slain was growing, since Alexander had left behind him, begotten of Glaphyra, his sons Tigranes and Alexander, and of Aristobulus, begotten of Berenice the daughter of Salome, there remained surviving Herod and Agrippa and Aristobulus: and Herodias too and Mariamne, daughters, whom their sex did not hinder, and whom desire of the kingdom stirred.

Terrified by these things, Antipater placed his hope in fraud and cunning, and sought by gifts and presents to bind each one more and more to himself, and even tried by bribes to entice the friends and household of Caesar to favor him. But against him, even those things which were at home stood opposed. For the king, little by little as time went on, grew softer toward his grandsons begotten of Alexander and Aristobulus, and showed repentance of his deed, since he pitied those whose parents he had slain.

At length, having gathered his friends and kinsmen, on a certain day, his face bathed in tears, he said to them: I see my age advancing, and I cannot look without tears upon these little ones, offspring of unfortunate fathers, of whose sorrow I am the author, lest I leave them in a worse condition than that from which I took away their parents: but a certain calamity snatched those from me; these nature and pity commend to me more and more: the one, because they are grandsons; the other, because they are bereft of parents. The sons erred against their father; what have the grandsons done against their grandfather? I was unfortunate enough as a father; I ought to be more anxious as a grandfather. I will try to provide for my grandsons after me; would that I had likewise provided for my sons: but into them the deceit of the common enemy and foes crept in.

Care must also be taken lest the dangers of those involve these, and that I lose sons and grandsons together by one wound. Let us provide defenders for these, from whom we took away theirs: I will therefore betroth to the elder of the sons of Alexander your daughter, my Pheroras, and I will appoint you his father: and to your son, Antipater, the daughter of Aristobulus, that in this way you may become father to the orphan girl. Her sister too my Herod, born of Mariamne daughter of Hyrcanus, shall take as wife: this, he said, is my judgment, that the successions of my posterity may be joined to one another by mutual bond of marriage; so that no one may be suspect to another, and I myself may look upon my grandsons with calmer eyes than I looked upon their parents. Having said these things, he joined the right hands of those named, and kissing each one, he wept.

This Antipater, while the others rejoiced, took so gravely that he immediately betrayed his sorrow even in his countenance, bound by no small anxiety, because he perceived that the sons of Alexander had the support of King Archelaus and of Pheroras who held the tetrarchy, stronger than the rest had. He noted that hatred of himself was growing, while pity was siding with the grandsons. Nor could he receive the daughter of Aristobulus into his house, lest by the constant sight of her the proof of the crime should offend him. He did not dare approach his father, lest he should stir up suspicions against himself in everyone's eyes, if he thought the covenants of the arranged marriages ought to be dissolved. Yet subtly he ventured to beg that his father would take counsel for him, lest against the wealth of two powerful men, the king and the tetrarch, he be exposed, weak, with the bare name of kingdom.

Let him at least favor the honor which he judged should be joined to his son by marriage, lest the appearance of the kingdom come to him, but the power to them.

Nor indeed did he hold suspect only the sons of Alexander and Aristobulus, but he judged that all stood in his way: whoever, from among Herod's various wives, seemed even silently to be competitors for the succession to the kingdom, of whom there was a great number. For nine women held the royal marriage; of these only two were without children; the rest had offspring at hand. Antipater extolled Doris as his parent, Herod extolled Mariamne, Antipas and Archelaus were the sons of Malthace the Samaritan woman, and the daughter Olympias, who was joined in lawful wedlock to Josephus. Cleopatra of Jerusalem also had borne Herod and Philip to Herod: Pallas bore Phasael. There were also other daughters of the king, Roxane and Salome; of whom Phaedra was mother to one, Elpis to the other. There survived also the sisters, german to Alexander and Aristobulus, whom Mariamne had borne to Herod; as we have mentioned above.

Fearing therefore the manifold generation of Herod, Antipater, though with difficulty and though the king was greatly disturbed at first attempts, because he begrudged the arranged unions of marriages to the grandsons who were bereft of paternal aid: at last brought it about that to himself was joined the daughter of Aristobulus, and that his own daughter, born of her, was joined to the daughter of Pheroras his own father; so far did his flattery prevail, that he dissolved the marriage that had been agreed upon. But on the other hand Salome, when she wished to marry Syllaeus, could not obtain this from her brother even with the support of Livia, who was the wife of Caesar: but against Alexander's wish she entered into marriage with a certain one of the king's friends. The king's arrangements thus overturned, Antipater, as one who had provided for himself as he had wished, exulted in spirit, and surpassed all in cunning.

Yet he could in no way suppress the hatred, but rather kindled it, since he sought to prepare for himself a defense by terror. He had moreover joined to himself as a cooperator in his factions Pheroras his father's brother, whom Herod not long after, when he refused, tore away from his own wife; toward whom, on account of the injuries which that woman had inflicted upon Doris his wife, he was held the more hostile, and drove her from the house. But Pheroras, embracing the injury, withdrew into his own domains, over which he presided as tetrarch: with this intention of mind, that he would never return to Herod while he lived. At length not even then, when he learned that Herod was afflicted with a grave illness, and was frequently begging him to come to him, because he thought there were certain matters to be entrusted to him as one about to die, did he think it right to visit him.

Struck by this injury though he was, the king, when beyond hope he had thrown off the malady, nevertheless came to him with brotherly affection, when he found him ill, and diligently shared his suffering, and when he had died he transported him to Jerusalem, and with much weeping and a crowded procession attended to the funeral. Yet not even by these tokens of devoted love did he exclude the opinion he had conceived, that his brother had sought to poison him: so cruel was he even toward his own; nor was the belief hard to credit, since he who had destroyed his sons could well have killed his brother.

And so this one of the murderers of Alexander and Aristobulus found the end of his own wickedness, taking his beginning from the very one from whom he had begun, passing over into Antipater, the author of the crime, as the penalty. For when Herod, stirred by the complaints of freedmen who asserted that their patron had been killed by poison, while he inquired more anxiously, learned that Pheroras had received from his wife a cup of Arabian juices which was thought to be a love-potion, and that this had been poison, handed over by the zeal of Sylaeus, and immediately turned into a bane, he extended the inquiry to a great many people.

Whereupon a certain slave-girl cried out amid the tortures, that Almighty God should transfer all the punishments to the mother of Antipater, the arbiter of all these crimes; that through her had occurred the secret meetings of Antipater and Pheroras, and drinking-bouts carried on day and night to the point of drunkenness, so that when they had withdrawn from the king's banquet, they drank whole nights through. This was rightly suspected as not idle nor free of attempts at conspiracy, especially with servants and attendants removed, and so long a delay was a great bond of connection and a sign of conspiracy, which is more suspect to kings when carried on in the secrecy of solitude and the silence of night.

There it was arranged that Antipater should go to Rome, and Pheroras to Petra: which, since they were often accustomed to confer about among themselves, was betrayed, because after Alexander and Aristobulus, Herod was going to turn himself to their own destruction; that they were wretched who had thought that Herod hated in them parricidal designs, since he was persecuting the heirs of the kingdom; that those men had not been removed as rivals of power, but as sharers in miseries, and that the danger of all and the hatreds had passed over to himself, since he would not spare even the female sex, he who had not spared his beloved Mariamne, nor the offspring born of her. That there was no other remedy for himself, except that they should withdraw somewhere further off: so that they might be delivered by flight, at least, from the fury of so great a beast.

There were added frequent complaints made to the mother of Antipater, bewailing that he was burning with envy of the royal succession, since the burdens of the kingdom weighed especially upon him: so that he could no longer endure it, given over to the lowest servilities, and pressed by extreme dangers. Nor had only his right to reign perished for him, but also the very course of his life had become entangled with the times. That his own age was riper, his head already white; while, on the contrary, his father was growing younger, and it was vainly hoped that he would inherit from one who would perhaps even outlive the heir so long reserved. But what advantage of succession would there be for himself as an aged heir, for whom the manifold offspring of Alexander and Aristobulus, like some hydra whose severed heads grow again, would sprout anew?

That from his father's testament the common right had already been snatched away, so that, once the hope of reigning had been given—of which he was for the time being a vicar—he was not to sustain any of his other sons in his own rule: but was obliged to hand back the kingdom to Herod, son of Mariamne. Therefore the hope had been given to him not for the enjoyment of the kingdom, but for danger, so that he would be suspect to his predecessor, burdensome to his successor. Finally, that the king himself, vigorous in a long old age and intent on the slaughter of his own kin, was the executor of his own testament: so that no one might remain who could succeed, being borne along by grave hatred toward his sons, and no less toward his brother, who had given him a hundred talents, nor would he even hold conversation with his uncle. And when Pheroras replied: "In what have I offended him?

Am I too a successor?" Antipater is said to have answered that he had several grounds of offense. Would that, all things having been lost, it were permitted to compose the offense by himself alone: that he was a savage beast, who was not satisfied even by deaths, nor could he endure that any affection remain among kinsmen! And would that, all things having been lost, it were permitted that we escape merely alive and stripped of everything, but it is impossible. Therefore secret conferences were necessary for a time. That a time would be necessary, in which they should employ manly vigor of mind, and liveliness of counsel, and also the service of an avenging right hand. These things were answered by slaves placed under torture, and Herod believed a slave, especially because concerning the hundred talents he had spoken only to Antipater, and no interpreter of his speech had been present. Inflamed therefore with indignation, he hauls to punishment very many, even the innocent, lest anyone guilty be left.

Antipater the Samaritan is summoned to torments, because he was Antipater's procurator, and is racked in various ways. The inquiry reveals that poison had been sent from Egypt through a certain comrade of Antiphilus, and that this had been given by him to Theudion, a friend of Antipater, and through him delivered to Pheroras, to whom Antipater the king's son had committed the execution of the plan, so that while he himself was staying in the city of Rome, his father Herod might be destroyed. At which time there would be no suspicion of a planned death against one absent: but when Pheroras, having received the poison in time, had entrusted it to his own wife, the envy of the poison recoiled instead upon Pheroras's wife; the king at once orders Pheroras's wife to bring forward the poison.

The woman goes out as if to prepare what was demanded, and hurls herself down from the top of the building, so as to avoid the weight of a double crime, and to forestall by her death the disclosure of the matter and the bitterness of the inquiry. But because the deadly vengeance for the parricide was being hastened for Antipater, she did not fall upon the crown of her head, by which fall she would easily have been killed, but fell upon another part of her body, so that death was delayed: yet the woman was stunned and dazed, because she had fallen from a high place.

Herod orders her to be revived a little, until she should come to herself; he promises pardon, if she would simply disclose the order of events: that it was not for nothing that she had thrown herself down, but that, being privy to a great crime, she had sought a shortcut of punishment; that if she confessed, all her crimes would go unpunished for her: but if she denied, punishments would be heaped up, and burial itself would be denied her. But when she had recovered herself a little: "And for whom," she said, "shall I still keep the silence of secrets, now that Pheroras is dead? For to him I owed the faith of silence, for whose sake I would not refuse torments, if they were necessary. But he is now free from torments, and if correction of a pardonable error exists, he is free from guilt. Why then should I think to wrap the truth in lies, to indulge Antipater? Shall I spare him, then, and not spare myself?

A fine reward indeed we owe to the man who has led all of us by his crimes into these torments.

Hear, O king, with God presiding, who alone is for me the arbiter of truth: for I have proposed to deceive in nothing: hear, I say, but first recall how you sat weeping beside your imperiled brother, so that you fulfilled all the duties of pious brotherhood toward Pheroras: by which he, being moved, as soon as you had departed, at once called me to himself, and said: 'Not a little, woman, have I strayed from a brother's affection and zeal, I who so hated one who loved me, and wished to kill one so impatient with grief over my dangers: he cannot bear that which is beyond his control, which I was urging as undue; I was, I confess, ensnared by Antipater's tricks, but I bear the price of his design: bring to me quickly what poison you have left from him, and pour it out before my eyes, that I may not carry even to the underworld a parricidal spirit: let it be counted as repentance and correction, that what I prepared was criminal:

Quickly, I say, woman, that I may at least forestall death, since I could not forestall the guilt.' Then I brought the poison, and emptied it out in his sight, yet I kept back a little of it for myself, out of fear of you, so that there might be a remedy ready for these uses, should the poison be betrayed." Having said this, she produced the box with what remained of the poison: the mother of Antiphilus and his brothers are subjected to inquiry. They confess that Antiphilus had brought from Egypt a box full of poison, which he had received from his brother who was residing at Alexandria under a teacher of medicine. Mariamne also, the daughter of the high priest, is discovered to be privy to the plots being prepared against her husband, and this is made manifest by her brothers confessing it amid torments.

Whence Herod the younger paid the price of his mother's boldness, whom the same father who had substituted him for Antipater in the succession of the kingdom now thought should be erased from the testament. And this indeed was no small error on the part of the elder Herod, that, upon the further crime being discovered, another should be penalized. But even the penalizing of the younger Herod was not unjust: for it seems to have been divinely provided beforehand, that although not yet deserving it by merit of his own deed, he should nevertheless be disinherited from the kingdom as the price of a wickedness yet to come. For who could have endured him as king, who as a tetrarch was so insolent that he could not be tolerated? There is added also another kind of poisoning, which Bathyllus, a freedman of Antipater, brought to Pheroras and his wife, compounded of the juices of serpents and the venom of asps, so that if the first did not succeed unto death, they might use the second, aimed at Herod.

Letters are also found composed against his brothers Archelaus and Philip: these were sons of the king, who were being educated at Rome, and whom Antipater assailed for this reason above all, that he saw them endowed with no ordinary wisdom, and that upon them the king's paternal affection rested. Indeed he had summoned them by letter that they might return home the sooner. Antipater therefore judged that they stood in the way of his own interests, and he applied himself with his arts so that, under the pretense of favoring the young men, all the schemes of his faction might be shrouded. He therefore composed letters in the names of powerful men whom, while stationed at Rome, he had drawn into his friendship; and he extorted from others too, at a price, that they should write that the young men pressed upon their father with hostile hatred, and with excessive lamentation deplored the death of Alexander and Aristobulus.

And while by secret arts, through courtiers who were ministers of his crime, he thrust letters of this kind upon his father, by the same cunning by which he had before pretended to be an intercessor for his brothers, so that, with the pretext of filial devotion held out in front, he might weave beneath it the parricide of impiety. When all these things had been brought forward, along with inquiries, and it was most clearly disclosed—from his father's life and from the letters—that the death of the brothers had been sought, a decision was reached that punishment should be exacted of the author who had betrayed later events by calumny, namely that he was persecuting his own brothers not as parricides but as rivals of the legitimate succession—not that he might defend his father, but that he might not have a partner in the kingdom.

Meanwhile, while a course of seven months was completed between the proofs of these crimes and Antipater's return, no indications of what had been done became known to Antipater, so great was the hatred of all men burning around him. Uncertain therefore of everything, he writes from the city of Rome that he will be present at once, and that he has been dismissed by Caesar with the greatest honor. When these letters had been read, Herod writes back that he ought to hasten his journey, saying that with him the paternal affection would not only suffer no diminution through his absence, but such favor would even accrue that, on account of regard for him, his mother's offense might be diminished.

For he had again caught her at home consenting to the schemes of her son, and had stripped her of her share and eliminated her from the benefits of royal liberality—to whom he declared, under the guise of writings, that he would remit his indignation, fearing lest, the expulsion of his mother having been discovered, Antipater's suspicions might be roused to caution. Arriving therefore, he first learned at Tarentum of the death of Pheroras, and there he made great mourning, which by some was attributed to filial affection, on the ground that he grieved impatiently at his uncle's death. But he in fact was groaning that the minister of his attempted parricide had been taken from him, and it was a terror to him not only that the preparation of the crime had not gone forward, but even that he had given the poison, lest somehow it should come to the King's knowledge, and he should make public the scene of the crime.

He therefore crossed into the port of Caesarea, by no means free of graver care and anxiety, since his mother too gave him no small prejudgment by her condemned offspring. But his friends pressed him, who reckoned that all things which would benefit Antipater should be set before love of country; and finally, relying on his native cleverness, by which he was accustomed easily to bend even a father averse to his favor to his own designs, they urged him to present himself the more quickly to his father and to the kingdom destined for him, since no one would dare to oppose him in his presence; but that the sole opportunity of his absence had blazed up, so that it might be reckoned that the king's mind could be turned away from him. And therefore he must forestall this in good time, lest by delaying he should either offend one who longed for him, or exasperate one who suspected him, since he would betray distrust of himself.

He therefore believed those who urged what he wished rather than what was necessary. But when he entered the port, he looked around and saw no one coming to meet him, and, as if his presence were shunned like some plague, he felt the greatest solitude amid the greatest throng of people, since no one dared to come to meet him: some fearing, others opposing him, for indeed at that time hatreds had gained authority enough that they no longer concealed themselves. He began to weigh his own crimes within himself, and to be goaded by the stings of conscience, seeing that no place of flight nor aid of escape was left to him: that he was surrounded as if by certain nets and held captive. He assumed all his confidence from shamelessness, so that, dissembling everything, he might present himself unexpectedly to his father, rush into his embrace, and put forward the offices of filial devotion.

But he, with hands outstretched, repelling him as he pressed forward, and turning his head aside lest he be touched by the kiss of a parricide, cried out, and said that this too was a mark of parricidal madness, that you should seek the embrace of one to whom you know yourself to be hateful, so as to fill your father with horror of you, and by the contact of a guilty body wrest away the sweetness of living. Do not therefore touch, do not defile, him whom you have sought by crime. Clear yourself first if you can; wash away the charges that have been detected: I will not shrink from judgment, nor will I allow a hearing to be denied you, nor will I take the inquiry upon myself, nor will I leave you any occasion for argument. Varus is opportunely present; before him prepare your defense. There is no place for delay: on the morrow, though you are furnished with tricks and deceits, you have the opportunity to clear yourself.

But he, stupefied with dread at so great a commotion, dared not, nor could he, make any reply; but going forth he wavered in mind, because he had learned nothing at all of the things that had been done and disclosed before his father. But afterward his mother and his wife, coming to him, disclosed everything. When he had learned this, he began to compose himself, and to prepare in mind by what means he might meet the accusation, and diminish confession. On the following day all the king's kinsmen and the friends of Antipater were assembled: all were present at the examination; those who had disclosed various things concerning Antipater were ordered to be brought forward.

Letters of Antipater's mother were also read, in which she had written to her son that he should know that the scene of his crimes had been betrayed to his father: that he ought by no means to be present unless some force were summoned by Caesar, with whose protection he might surround himself, and not commit himself to judgment—since he was assailed by the confessions of so many—but fortify himself with arms. When these things had been added to the earlier ones, Antipater entered, and casting himself at his father's feet, besought him not to hold him already condemned; that he was confident, if a hearing were granted, that he would be found free of the charge—if his father were willing. His father orders him to be silent, and forestalls him with a speech of this kind: "That the wickedness of Antipater can seem pardonable to no just man is certain enough, but I think that I am the more burdened before you, Varus, on that account.

For I fear that you too hate me, who have begotten parricide sons, whom a father could not even spare: though in this too I am rather to be pitied, that I loved such sons. But of those others I say nothing, whom I myself provoked, and whose just accusations against this man I have rejected. For these had no grounds of grievance against me, except that Antipater was preferred to them, and had received the prerogative of a share in the kingdom, though he was not born to reign; yet I thought that I was taking on the elder as guardian of the younger. But I brought in an enemy who envied the noble-born, incited the young boys, circumvented the weak, betrayed the unwary. I do not deny that they fell, but they deserved to be excused rather than pressed hard. This Antipater took them from me, this man drove them to become plotters against me.

I grieved, I confess, that those to whom I had given hope of the kingdom, for whom I had reserved the succession, were scheming wickedly against me: but by now it was not their father, but Antipater, whom they hated. They perished, then, to their father's grief, but to Antipater's profit. You ask, Varus, who killed them? Learn to whose advantage their death has turned. The house is empty for the stepmother's son; the palace, which had many successors, lay open for one to succeed. Nor was his bloody spirit and impious mind satisfied by the death of his brothers. After he had no brothers left to hate, he began to persecute his father. I consider with myself—I who prepared this bulwark of inheritance for him: I too seemed to one weary of my delay to have lived too long; I taught him what he should want, I who had taken away rivals for the succession: he could not endure delay, nor did he wait for the kingdom, except to gain it by parricide.

He repaid me in kind, because I had gathered up the castaway and preferred him to nobler-born sons. For to which of them did I give as much as to him? To whom did I myself, while living, yield power, whom by an open will I had designated heir—a thing that is usually dangerous for kings, that anyone should know he is to succeed? I granted him fifty talents in revenues, I gave him three hundred when he set out for Rome: I commended him to Caesar as if my only son: I reserved nothing for myself that should make me fear a parricide: but this rather armed him for parricide, that he saw himself superior through my benefits. What such crime did his brothers commit, whom he drove to death? Or what evidence of such a kind was found against them, as is being detected against this man? But does the parricide dare to interrupt and clamor, and try to entangle the truth with tricks?

Beware, Varus, I warn you, beware his feigned tears and groans composed by art, wrung from no real grief. This is the man who took from me the affection of filial love, when under pretended fear he warned that Alexander should be guarded against, asserting that the minds of very many agreed with him, and that my presence should not rashly be entrusted to all. He pretended to look after everything, even to escort me to my bed, to sift and examine each person. This was the dispenser of my sleep and the minister of my security, in whom I placed my comfort, and by whose services I eased my grief for those slain: I thought that he was restoring them to me, taking away my sorrow, offering me filial devotion. This was my protector, to whom I entrusted the guarding of my aged body.

I do not know how I am alive, how I have escaped so great a plotter, by what blandishments he had ensnared me, by what deceits he held me bound, so that I trusted this man alone, whom alone I ought to have guarded against. It is incredible to me that I have escaped; I do not seem to myself to be alive, but think it a dream. For who would believe either that he would prove so ungrateful, to whom I had entrusted all power over myself, or that I could escape, if Antipater were unwilling? Yet I thought myself made the safer by favor shown him. But what misfortune (alas!) is this, that makes those rise up against me whom I have loved the more? I lament the calamity of my house; I weep, Varus, for my desolation; I groan at the force of so great a grief.

Yet so great is the bitterness of the crime of parricide, that I will allow no one to escape me, whoever has thirsted for my blood, even if evidence of attempted parricide should be brought forth against all my sons." When he had said these things, his voice, overcome equally by indignation and grief, broke off as he spoke. Immediately Antipater, raising his head—for he had lain before his father's feet as one struck and wounded, and had not dared to rise—cried out and said: "You indeed, father, accuse as one angered, but for me there is no greater defense than the testimony of your own accusation, because I was ever the guardian of your safety. You have therefore supplied a defense on my behalf, contrary to the accuser's wish. For how am I a parricide, whom you yourself confess to be your protector?

Or how am I circumspect and cunning, whom you charge as the deviser of parricide—since it would be the height of folly to have contemplated a thing that is execrable even among men, and that cannot go unpunished before God? I could have been taught by the example of my brothers that there is no escape for so great a crime, that such a crime finds no hiding place and evades no punishment, since even they paid the penalty for such malice toward you: but envy, as you say, drove them to parricide, because they saw me preferred to them, they whom the nobility of their mother's lineage emboldened to claim the kingdom as owed to them, as it were, by maternal succession, and to demand back from you what had been taken from them. What such thing did I do, who never hoped for the kingdom except from you, who sought your judgment, who wished to please you alone? What indeed was there that could have impelled me to dare anything against your safety?

Desire for the kingdom? But I already reigned. Suspicion of hatred? But I was loved. The pain of injury? But I was preferred. If mere dread of my preferment armed them for parricide, I am absolved: for those who are preferred do not know how to contemplate parricide, but only to hate. Unless perhaps some fear of you drove me. But I, as your own voice testifies, knew nothing except to fear for you. For what should I fear for myself, who was the minister of your safety and the dispenser of your peace? Or did lack of money and want compel me, which is wont to persuade the needy to robbery? But you had given me what would abound not only for the present but for all time, and had sent me rich to Rome, so that kings of kings might proclaim that with them the primacy is of empire, not of riches.

Indeed, I won over that Fabatus, the manager of Roman affairs and intimate of Caesar, to your side, and, though he had been driven by an immense sum of money from Syllaeus to attack you, I so changed him that he became your defender, and the betrayer of the one who had solicited him. Through whom, father, were other plotters against your safety detected? How then am I a parricide, I who found out Corinthus, the guardian of your body, lurking in ambush? Who removed the plotter? Who brought him, though he denied it, to confession? I could have refrained from thinking of parricide, and had the fruit of parricide, if I had kept silent.

But even if the savagery of beasts, if the fury of fierce animals, were in me, yet by your so great benefits I could have been tamed, so that I would place no help anywhere but in the support of your safety, that in place of everything I would repay you with love alone, that I would shield you with my own body, that I would enclose you, if it could be done, within my very inmost being. You had preferred to your nobler sons one less noble by his mother's stock, you had even called back into the kingdom his mother, an exile from the kingdom, and no longer held me as heir to the empire, but almost as a partner in it. Wretched me, on whom your generosity had poured out so many good things that envy followed after! Most foolish I, who left you, father!—if room was given to envy, and power to plotters. For while I long delayed for your safety, I betrayed my own: and yet I have nothing to charge to myself.

You, father, bade me depart; for you, father, I journeyed abroad, lest Syllaeus should circumvent your old age, lest he should strip you of your kingdom while you lived, or seek your safety before Caesar. Rome is my witness of filial devotion, Caesar too, president of the whole world, and censor and arbiter of all men and of my own heart, who was accustomed to call me a lover of my father. Bear witness, Caesar, what I used to say of my father before you, before whom alone I could have done harm. Bear witness, I say, to me, you who had pronounced concerning others. You did not think parricide should be concealed, but investigated. Oh, if only your presence, Varus, breathed favor upon me! But you, Caesar, are absent, and set far away, and I am judged by my father without you. Yet you are present, and present in your letters: I offer your writings, which parricides are wont to fear. I carry your letter, which those who wish parricide not to remain hidden are wont to produce.

Receive, father, the letters of Caesar; let him instruct you himself, who long ago avenged you. Receive the writings of Caesar, stronger than all arguments. What you once used for vengeance, use now for salvation. These characters, then, I bring forward as witnesses of my innocence: that right hand never deceived you; that right hand of Caesar set the diadem on you, did not take it away; that hand restored to you the kingdom which you had cast off. Caesar could have hated me before, if he had found my brother like me: but he recognized and pronounced me an interpreter of truth, one without whom, had I not been at Rome, Syllaeus would have won. To him today I am adjudged, to him, wretched man, I am paying the penalty. Remember, father, that I did not sail willingly. I saw pits already being prepared for me by plotters: yet I preferred, father, that I rather than you should be endangered.

Nor do I shudder at the danger to my safety, but I grieve before you, father, that I am endangered as though your enemy. Yet I am endangered, if even Caesar's testimonies are endangered before you. These proofs, then, I use for my defense: I do not appeal to Caesar as one to be heard, but implore him as one to grant acquittal. But if you think a trial should be held, behold, my father, I have come to you after Caesar, I hastened to you from Caesar. Would that I had never gone from you! But you, father, not knowing it, exposed me to dangers by bidding me go. I am here, father, nor do I think that the truth concerning your safety should be sought carelessly from lighter witnesses. Let not those prejudge who can fear torments, nor those who can despise them. 'Every man is a liar,' says Scripture. I bring forward the incorruptible testimonies of the elements. I come to you over seas and lands, having suffered nothing anywhere.

As a parricide I ought not to have escaped, if I were guilty. Let heaven, which did not strike me with lightning, absolve me before you, father; the sea, which did not drown me; the earth, which did not swallow me: through these I come to you safely, father: things which do not usually let escape even those who are not parricides of their natural fathers. The gaping earth swallowed Dathan and Abiram, and yet they had not attacked their natural father. The earth hung Absalom as he fled by the branches of his own tree, lest he reach his father, to whom, had he reached him, he would have escaped. I have come to you, and I am still in danger. David avenged his own parricide-plotter, because he could not save him: I do not ask to be avenged upon enemies and slanderers, so as to call them to torments; let them gain the punishment of calumny. One thing I ask, father: do not believe others under torture: seek the proof against me from myself.

Suspend your defendant; let the inquiry of truth proceed into my very vitals; let the cords of torture descend into my body and into its inmost recesses; let the blood flow, which is wont to cry out parricide; let fires be brought against my guilty limbs. Why do you hesitate, father? If you spare me, you pronounce me innocent: if you refrain from torture, you absolve me of the crime. He is no parricide who is thought worthy of a simple death. Or if you spare me as a son, and have compassion on limbs begotten of yourself, then these are not your limbs which are the instruments of cruelty." When he had said these things, with great weeping and lamentable groaning he made an end of speaking, and with a very great wailing he bent Varus and all present to pity: Herod alone was moved by no tears, and he himself refrained from weeping, unyielding toward pardon, intent upon the inquiry, seeking vengeance.

After the speech of Antipater, Nicolaus succeeded him by the king's command, to answer his cunning with skill and to draw away those inclined to pity, throwing back upon Antipater the envy of his brothers' murder, alleging that if any were moved by mercy, it was fitting to have mercy rather upon those who, slain by his treacheries, demanded vengeance. If they should acquit one man, the whole royal house would be brought into danger—brothers, kinsmen, parents, the king himself, whose safety he had not spared. And so, turning to the cunning devices of the pleaders, as if by a kind of epilogue of lamentation, he called up from the dead the souls of the slain, who filled the benches with pitiful complaint, saying that they had perished though innocent, that suborned weighty witnesses, forged letters, and deceitful words had entrapped their father, who had believed his son, whom he did not think could lie about his brothers.

He now offers his own punishments, he who had not believed the torments of his brothers, whom he bound loaded with chains lest they be present at the inquiry, the sentence pronounced against the absent, since they were slain while far away, lest their father should pity them. Therefore nothing would remain if this man escaped, one taught to pour parricidal poisons into the vitals of his own kin, to change the minds of men—he who had even roused Pheroras, ever most loving of his brother, to the deadly parricide of murdering Herod. To these things, when Nicolaus had added many other points for the sake of stirring emotion, when he ended his speech, Antipater was asked by Varus whether he wished to reply. He answered nothing else, save: "God is my witness that I have done no wrong." Then Varus ordered the poison to be brought forth, and given to one of those already condemned to death. When it was drunk, he died at once.

This was reported to Caesar, and by his father's order Antipater was put in chains: yet he was not free from plots even then. For at that very time Salome was being tried in danger by treachery, through letters composed by Antipater in Salome's name, full of insults against the king, which he had ordered to be conveyed through the young servant Antiphilus to Acme, a maidservant of Julia, wife of Caesar, so that Acme, having received them, might forward them to the king: and the deceit had nearly succeeded to the woman's ruin, had not a letter of Acme's to Antipater been found, which betrayed the plot, written thus: "As you wished, I have written to your father, and sent those letters: nor do I doubt that the king will rise up in danger against your sister.

Do you repay the favor, having obtained the desired result." When these letters were discovered, the king was led into suspicion, since Alexander too had been assailed by letters composed with like skill by his brother, and, exasperated by excessive agitation, he contracted a grievous illness. Seeing himself pressed by this danger, he wrote Antipas, one of his sons, as heir of the kingdom, preferred before Archelaus and Philip, the elder children, since Antipater had made these too suspect to their father by tricks and deceits. To Caesar he bequeathed a thousand talents, with gifts and presents added. To his wife and children, freedmen and friends, he bestowed fifty; nor did he leave his sister Salome without a share of his gifts. The illness grew worse and was aggravated with the passage of time, which feeble old age daily embittered with its own discomforts.

For his body, burdened with no fewer than seventy years, bore also frequent affliction of spirit, wounded by so many parricides, which it had been the height of misery either to detect in his sons or to inflict. Yet the fever of his incurable illness was unappeasable, because Antipater, still surviving, was feared. Contempt too grew daily more vile, because images of Caesar and likenesses of animals, set up against the law at the temple, were being torn down, chiefly at the instigation of Judas and Matthias, teachers of the young, who, having learned of this and conspiring together, said that the time had come to avenge the wrong of the violated law: that the sacrilegious man was paying the penalty, who thought whatever was permitted to power was also right; who, not inclined by religion but puffed up by pride, had exercised his lust as law within the very sanctuary of the temple, doing what he pleased.

And although divine vengeance was hastening his death, still it seemed fitting that they too should approve, by defending the observances of their ancestral rite, the freedom of the sacred temple: nor ought anyone to be deterred by fear of danger, since even to die for the ancestral law is a mark of immortality.

And so the first who set upon tearing down the golden eagle fixed above the pinnacle of the gate were seized, and led to the king; and when asked whom they wished to obey in undertaking so great a deed, they answered: "the ancestral law." Asked again on what they relied to be so cheerful, when called to the danger of death, they answered: "On the rewards of piety and devotion, whose recompense would be paid to those who sought death for the ancestral rite." He could no longer bear the constancy of their answer, but, indignation overcoming his sickness, in order to conquer his infirmity he went forth into the assembly of the people, and there, denouncing them to the populace as guilty of sacrilege, he began to accuse them, because greater things were suspected from such deeds. And even if these were not proved, still all, each fearing for himself, begged that the punishments due might be paid by those who should be found guilty as the authors.

He said there should be no proceeding against the rest, lest the inquiry disturb many others, strangers and innocent; and so, being asked, he pronounced sentence upon those present, that they be burned alive: whence his discomfort was increased, and the force of a graver illness fed upon his whole body with varied sufferings. There was violent fever, intolerable itching, continual and unremitting pains of the inner organs, his neck was tormented in the middle, his feet were burdened with dropsy, the hidden parts of his body swarmed with worms, over the whole body scattered, heavy panting and dangerous sighs: it was a sign that the penalty of unjust parricide and sacrilegious condemnation was being exacted. Yet he did not yield in spirit, and struggled against his sufferings with desire for life. He sought across the Jordan the warmth of hot springs, but they availed nothing. The Asphaltite lake, medicinal for many, held the sick man without any benefit.

When, while being fomented with much oil, his body relaxed and grew slack, he turned his eyes with the look of the dying, and his voice failed, nor did sense remain: but, roused by the noise of those crying out, he recovered, and, wishing to return home, when he came to the region of the place called Jericho, driven by black bile, and in a sense threatening death itself, he devised a monstrous crime, whereby, as it were, funeral offerings of the people might be sent to him.

For having long since ordered that from all Judea the more notable men be gathered, so that from each town they might come together in one place: when this order was obeyed, he commanded them to be shut within the hippodrome, and, having summoned Salome and her husband Alexas, he gave a mandate of bloodshed, asserting that his death would be a joy to the peoples of the Jewish nation; and therefore he demanded of his own people this device, whereby his epitaph might be most gloriously celebrated—that when he had breathed his last, they should at once order all those who were held shut up to be killed: so that no one would be found in all Judea and in every household to whom his death would not bring tears, since he would leave to all households an inheritance of mourning; those who, while lamenting the slaughter of their own, would seem to be paying just dues to the king, and thus the rejoicing of the public would be checked by domestic griefs.

And lest by chance the execution should fail to fulfill the wicked orders, he commanded fifty drachmas to be given to the soldiers, so that, such a wage being set upon the crime, the soldiers would not refuse the deadly service, ready to offset the horror of the execution with the profit of the reward. He was now nearly yielding to the sufferings of so great a distress, but he awaited the grim report of the embassy, which brought back word that punishment had been exacted of Acme at Herod's complaint: that Antipater too, convicted of parricide, had been condemned to death, yet, banished from country and kingdom, the father was to be given power of flight if he wished, Caesar so ordering, pronouncing sentence upon the crime, but leaving the decision to filial piety.

Nature had resolved the necessity of the parricide: for, having recovered a little, with power granted him to punish as he wished, while he was deliberating on the manner of the execution, wracked with pains he had desired that the day of his death come quickly. He therefore asked for an apple, and likewise a knife, so that, as was his custom, he might cut the fruit and take some refreshment, and, raising himself a little and leaning on his elbow, he lifted his right hand, wishing to strike himself; but Achiabus ran up and stopped the blow, and the whole house resounded with mourning, so that Herod was thought outside to have died. Antipater exulted at the sound of the wailing, and asked the guards set over him that he be released from his bonds: but the one placed in charge of that duty not only refused what was asked, but also reported it to the king.

He, crying out that he was still being mocked while alive, sent executioners who killed Antipater, and ordered him, once slain, to be buried at Hyrcania; and again he changed his will, and appointed Archelaus, the elder of the brothers, as king: to Antipas he left the tetrarchy. Five days, then, after Antipater, he too died: having held the kingdom thirty-seven years from the time he was ordered by the Romans to rule; but from the time he removed Antigonus, his rival for the kingdom, he had exercised power for thirty-four years: would that he had been as happy in his private life as in his public successes. For so favorable were his fortunes abroad that, a private citizen, he was raised to the kingship, and having enjoyed it through the course of many years—a thing difficult to relinquish while retaining full use of power—he left to his children the succession of empire, which he himself had not received from his own.

But within his household he was most unfortunate, which he filled with the bitter blood and mourning of his own; nor yet did he find the execution of his final cruelty, this one thing of Salome's blotting out the mockeries of his earlier crimes—that those whom the king had ordered to be killed she released, all of them, saying that the king had afterward repented of his deadly command, and, revoking his earlier orders, had commanded that all be sent home.

Then afterward, an assembly of the soldiers and the rest of the people having been made in the amphitheater, judgment was passed concerning the death of the king: Ptolemy came forward, who had clung to the king's friendship among the most faithful even to the end, and bearing the ring which he had drawn from the finger of the deceased, he praised the king, and admonished the people to tranquillity, and read out his letter, in which, having entreated his most faithful soldiers, he urged them to show benevolence and favor to his successor. And the will, its tablets opened, was also read: Philip was named heir of the region of Trachonitis and the neighboring places: Antipas, tetrarch; Archelaus, king—yet so that his ring should be brought to Caesar, and they should reserve to him the judgment and confirmation of all his dispositions. And only then would his testament be ratified, if Caesar approved it: for the rest he ordered that his former testaments be observed.

Immediately an acclamation of the soldiers was made, applauding Archelaus: he was at once surrounded by a throng of attendants; they promise benevolence, they pledge fidelity. After this the funeral was carried out fittingly and magnificently, with all the pomp of royal riches sent ahead for the celebration of the funeral procession: the bier was entirely of gold, adorned with gems, spread with gleaming purple, the body covered with a purple robe of double fold, fastened by a clasp gleaming with precious stones; a diadem clung to his head, and above it a golden crown, a scepter in his right hand, so that you would think him alive. Before the procession went the Thracian troop; Germans and Gauls, the royal bodyguard, kept military order, girded likewise with arms, as if going forth to war, but their faces full of grief, and, like mourners, they followed along. The rest of the company followed in the usual array, with their accustomed dress, generals and centurions accompanying alike.

Five hundred also of the servants and freedmen of the royal household sprinkled spices, so that the whole road was fragrant with sweet odor; a great multitude of the king's sons and kinsmen surrounded the bier. He was buried at Herodium (as he himself had ordered), which was two hundred stades from the place where he found the end of his life: escorted through so great a distance with great homage from all, but not with equal feeling from all: for fear had wrung the duty from them, not desire; grief at least held within itself a free judgment. Such was the end that Herod had.

Herod being buried, the free judgments of the people, as is customary regarding the dead, were being brought forth: that he had been harsh and intolerable, that he had exercised unjust rule over his citizens, a tyrant not a king to his own people, a domestic parricide, a public plunderer, that he had left nothing to anyone, that all things had been drained by tributes, foreigners enriched, the Jews exhausted, because he had brought an enemy into the temple, had contaminated all sacred things with sacrilege: blessed were those who had died, since torments were not lacking to the living: that Judaea had suffered more evils in the few years under Herod's rule after the captivity had been driven off, than she had endured under the barbarian enemy in the captivity itself: when the kings of the Babylonians ruled over them, their exiles under those kings had been more tolerable than their domestic dwelling under Herod: that they had been sent back to their own lands by those kings, but driven into flight by this one: that he was harsher than Darius, more arrogant than Artaxerxes, more rapacious than the Medes.

That they had hoped for an end of evils, that it might be permitted them to go out from exile, if he should close his day: but that to the misery of servitude there had been added Archelaus, a self-appointed successor, who both recalled Herod and added new evils: that this was wretched in kingdoms, that a lord should be chosen; more wretched still, that he should be imposed upon the unwilling. That it seems a solace of servitude, if they themselves choose their lord, because he becomes kinder if the rule is conferred upon him, more arrogant if it is usurped. That therefore Archelaus would be by far more intolerable than Herod, since the latter had taken up the kingdom, while the former had received it. These things were discussed not only frequently in Judaea, but also at Rome: with Archelaus present, the accusers pleading, these charges were cast in his face before Caesar and the Senate, where it was long contested whether Archelaus's kingdom should be confirmed or annulled.

Finally, when in the temple of Apollo, which Caesar had built and adorned with many decorations, a place was granted for the hearing, Antipater, son of Salome, pursued vigorously, being strong in speech, the things we mentioned above, and many others besides: he marveled that Archelaus should pretend that the kingdom must be sought from Caesar, when by rash usurpation he had already for some time exercised the office of king within Judaea without consulting Caesar. For what did the golden seat, and the diadem brought forth, signify, if not the insignia of kingship? With what presumption had he dared to sit upon the royal throne: to greet from a lofty seat the surrounding populace, hemmed in by military arms, in a certain manner and custom of emperors to bring forth the diadem, which ought to have been reserved for Caesar's judgment, not only on account of the power of the Roman empire, but also on account of the right of the will?

For Herod could not have snatched from Caesar or the Senate what he himself had received from the Senate, and in an earlier will he had sufficiently expressed the judgment of his own proper will, by which he declared, with sound sense and considered counsel, that Antipas should succeed him in the kingdom, and finally he had reserved all things to Caesar's judgment: although, his body now failing, anxious in his final peril, and no longer capable of any sense or counsel, he had dictated not what he judged, but what was thrust upon him. Therefore he had pronounced himself unfit for empire, since by his own judgment he did not deserve, Caesar, to be established in the kingdom by your judgment. For if he had been conscious of his own merits, he would have hastened rather to seek than to usurp. But by not seeking, but usurping, those things which consist in seeking—even in pecuniary matters (not to mention riches.

Finally I have seized that Fabatus, governor of Roman affairs and intimate of Caesar, for you, and from Syllaeus by great ambition of money, that they might attack)—usually prejudice a case, so that litigants who put the cart before the horse lose their cause: but here it is not a matter of monetary gain that is called into question, but the violated right of the Roman empire, its reverence despised, its power scorned, one who deemed unworthy the Roman senate, which is accustomed to give and take away kingdoms, and to preserve with Caesar the ancient prerogative of conferring rule.

What would he do, once he had begun to reign legitimately, who before his reign, in the most insolent fashion, had killed a great many who had asked for help for their exhausted affairs and relief from tributes: that war had been inflicted on those demanding remedy, that nine thousand Jews had been slain in the very celebration of the Passover venerable among their people, that men had been immolated in place of cattle, that the blood of the consecrated who had gathered for the temple's festival had been poured out, a pitiable spectacle: if one should review the slaughter of the slain, one would think the Babylonian conquerors had returned? How much more cruelly had these things been committed by a citizen, which, if done by a barbarian enemy, would be judged full of monstrous savagery and impiety? That this was the little basket given to the citizens, this the sacrifice with which Archelaus had commended the beginnings of his reign.

That Caesar and the Senate owed pity to the remnants of Judaea, which once, supported by free peoples, would prefer servitude, if only it were permitted to endure a tolerable one under a just king, but that this man was far from the right to rule. For indeed among the Jews the kingdom belongs to no one, except him who is of the generation of Judah, as the law says. But that this man, an Idumaean by race, whom no origin of royal lineage touched, had crept into an honor not owed to him.

For since Antipater had been grandfather to himself and to Archelaus, a man outstanding in riches, and powerful in other arts, and especially in friendship with the Romans, and proven in war to the elder Caesar, though he could have claimed the kingdom for himself, he never aspired to it; rather he preferred to defend it for others than to acquire it for himself, and deservedly was he held as an excellent father, who vindicated Judaea into liberty by his own wounds, and did not lead it into servitude. That Herod, by the testimony of Antony, who had been his father's guest-friend, had aspired to the kingdom: from that time the affairs of the Jews had been diminished, that he had acted as an enemy, not as a ruler. Since therefore he himself had been an adulterer of the kingdom, how could a legitimate king have been created by him?

That they did not, however, refuse to be under a kingdom, but asked to act under Roman rule, whose favor, gained already from the time of the Maccabees, they had afterward so degenerated by usurpation of the kingdom alone, that they are now much inferior to those against whom they sought Roman alliance. Finally, that they begged that Judaea might obtain from you, on the same condition as Syria, governance by a prefect, so that a proof of our devotion might be given, whether we, who are called seditious and rebellious, can obey moderate judges. Against these things Nicolaus, answering on behalf of Archelaus, asserted that the most restless nation had paid the penalty of its own insolence: that Archelaus should not chiefly on this account be summoned by inexcusable hatred of crime, if by sedition they disturbed the peace, and withdrew in mind and arms from alliance with the Romans: but as to the preference of the will, who would doubt it, since a later document is customarily preferred to earlier ones, and this ought to seem much stronger than the others, in which the prerogative was reserved for Caesar of confirming the royal judgment, whereby the reverence of the Roman name is rather increased than diminished, if by you too, Caesar, that which is permitted to private persons is not snatched away from kings, namely that their wills should be valid, and that they may write in their final hand whom they most wish to succeed them, and that from them in turn this honor be reserved to you, that confirmation of the judgment be sought from you, and that he succeed whom the father chose, and you approved.

When therefore did Herod show more wisdom, Caesar, when he preserved your prerogative, or when he passed you over? Where Antipas is substituted, Caesar is passed over. Where Archelaus is put forward, Caesar is called in: without confirmation nothing is stable. By divine judgment, therefore, where justice was lacking, either to the pretense or to the will confirmation was lacking. But where equity sufficed for the examination, strength was sought, that the judgment might be confirmed. Consider therefore whether he did injury who chose you, or whether that should be rescinded which he left to be ratified by you as arbiter, to the lord of all things: to whom even kings rightly yield in power. For he who knew whom he would choose to confirm, knew certainly whom he would choose to rule, nor could he be deceived in the successor, who was not deceived in the confirmer. For he who appointed you as arbiter, knew therefore that such a successor must be appointed for himself, one who would not displease you whom you appointed.

Having heard both parties, Caesar deferred his sentence: then, having taken counsel with the Senate, he set Archelaus over the nation, that he might discharge the office of ruler, not the honor of king. He promised nevertheless that he would give him the kingdom, if he conducted himself so as to be approved. For already trials of dissension among the Israelite people were being reported. He appointed two tetrarchs, sons of Herod, Philip and Antipas, who had contended with Archelaus over the kingdom: to Herod's sister, whose name was Salome, he preserved what had been assigned to her, and himself added other things besides. To the two daughters of Herod also he judged that the thousand talents which had been left to them should be distributed: he added also another six hundred thousand, and decreed that these should be joined to the children of Pheroras.

Meanwhile a certain one of the young men, pretending to be Alexander, and because, through mercy on the part of those to whom the task of killing had been entrusted by his father Herod, others had been substituted in his place, having been sent away together with his brother Aristobulus, made for Miletus, and thence for Rome, so that he might be recognized with greater difficulty among strangers unfamiliar with him. There he had easily stirred up the Jews, most ready as they are for novelty of affairs: had not Caesar, upon learning of it, ordered him to be brought to him more quickly through a certain Celadus, who had thoroughly known Alexander. When Celadus saw the young man, deceived by the resemblance, he hesitated. But examining the remaining signs and finding them not to agree, he asked where Aristobulus was: but he asserted that he was living on the island of Cyprus, avoiding plots, because brothers joined together were more easily destroyed.

Then, led before Caesar, upon impunity being promised he revealed forthwith that, relying on the appearance of the resemblance, he had pretended to be Alexander, so that he might obtain from the Jews there innumerable gifts as though he were the king's son. Caesar laughed at the trick, but ordered him too to be dismissed unharmed, and pronounced that those who had bestowed beyond the private measure upon him as though he were the king's son had been sufficiently fined, in that they had endured infinite losses through superfluous expenses. But Archelaus, having set out for Judaea, was accused before Caesar on account of the obscenity of his morals and his insolence, and, the case between the parties having been heard, was banished to Vienne, and his wealth was joined to Caesar's treasury: this was the price he paid deservedly, who had not even restrained his desires from the wife of his own full brother.

For when Alexander died, put to death by his father's order, Glaphyra his wife, born of Archelaus king of the Cappadocians, as we recorded above, was joined in second marriage to Juba, king of the Libyans. When he died, she returned to her father: there Archelaus, beholding her, since he thought that the brother of a husband, the paternal uncle of the children, should by no means be piously shunned, began to be so consumed with love that he cast off his wife Mariamne, and put Glaphyra in her place. Not long after, when the woman had returned to Judaea, she saw Alexander in her dreams, and desired to embrace him. But he, seeming indignant, shrinking back from the embrace, seemed to say: Is this, Glaphyra, the faith of your promise? Is this how you have kept your love for me, of which you ought to have been mindful?

But granted, being a young girl, you did not shrink from a second marriage—ought you not also to have shunned a third, ought you not to have shunned seeking the brother of your husband? Did my injury so delight you that, thrice wed, you were not ashamed to return into my house as a third bride? But it is my care that my disgrace, and your contagion, not remain longer: nor will the incestuous marriage of the brothers rejoice for long. The woman rose up, and told her household the dream, and she herself, dying two days later, gave proof that such marriages are punished neither by the laws of the living, nor by the wishes of the dead.

Archelaus himself also saw in his dreams nine ears of grain, full and large, being devoured by oxen. When he inquired of it, the interpreter answered that the nine ears signified nine years, during which he would exercise the greatest and most ample power. Therefore in the ninth year of his reign there would be a change for him, since the oxen, which are wont to turn over the fields with the plough, signified a laborious change, which would devour and swallow up his former merits. When he had learned this, on the fifth day there came one from Caesar to bring him to Rome for judgment. There, condemned and driven into exile, he fulfilled his dream even by death. The principality of the nation which had belonged to Archelaus was turned into the name of a province; by which name the Romans, when by conquest they brought distant regions under their own jurisdiction, called them provinces. Nevertheless the tetrarchs remained, as Philip and Herod were, the name being changed, since he was formerly called Antipas.

For Salome, when dying, had left the places she had held, and the power over her nation, to Livia, the wife of Caesar. Such was the state of Judea when Caesar died, leaving Tiberius, his stepson, the son of Livia by a former husband, as successor to the Roman empire; in whose honor Herod founded Tiberias. Philip also thought fit that a city should be named after his mother Livia. And since it is our purpose to disclose the causes by which the people of the Jews fell away from the Roman empire, and hastened their own destruction, the facts show that Pilate, the governor of the province, gave the beginning of the ruin: since he was the first of all who did not hesitate to bring the images of Caesar into the buildings of Jerusalem. When the people, moved by this, resisted, and he decreed that the images should be received back, he drove very many to their death.

While these things were being done in Judea, Agrippa, son of Aristobulus, came to Rome, desiring to contend in judgment before Tiberius against Herod the tetrarch; but being despised by Tiberius while he lived at Rome, he won over very many to his friendship, and especially Caius, the son of Germanicus, whom—whether for the sake of his father’s name dear to the people, or reckoning him near to the throne by kinship of royal blood, or by a kind of presage—he cultivated more zealously than either his age or his rank allowed; so that one day, raising his hands, he prayed that, after Tiberius’s death came more quickly, he might see Caius as emperor. This being betrayed by his freedman Eutychus, Agrippa was, by order of Tiberius, led away in chains and tormented in grievous ways, not released until Tiberius closed his last day.

Whose times were foul with mockeries and retreats to goats, an intolerable sloth; yet none of the men of effective action were roused to bring about his death—out of reverence, I think, for the still-recent Roman empire, or out of terror of his most savage cruelty, since harshness is generally the safer the more grievous it is.

While he was ruling, the notorious mockery of Paulina, a woman of most distinguished family, became widely celebrated at Rome. Since she enjoyed among all an outstanding reputation for chastity, and was also of surpassing beauty and eminent grace, being tempted by the solicitations of Mundus, commander of a company of knights, and not bending, she lay open to error through the fault of excessive superstition: for Mundus, having suborned the priests of Isis, who, as if from Anubis, should bring word to her inviting her to the temple, saying that the god was delighted by her devotion and chastity: he demanded the night, saying he had something he wished to entrust to her in secret. She, receiving this joyfully, reported to her husband that a god was attending to her prayers, that her presence was being requested by him, and that she could not refuse obedience.

And so, by her own decision and her husband’s, she went to the temple of Isis, spent the night there, and with witnesses removed far off, as though about to receive knowledge of a sacred mystery, she composed herself upon her couch, thinking that her god would come to her in her sleep and reveal himself to her through a vision. But when a portion of the night had passed, so that the woman, full of sleep, might the more easily be deceived, Mundus, having taken on the appearance and garb of Anubis, arrived, lifted her garments, and rushed upon her with kisses. To the woman, awakened, he said he was Anubis, presenting the face of Anubis: she believed him a god, declaring herself blessed that her god had deigned to visit her. To him asking for embrace she did not refuse; yet she asked whether a god could be joined with a human.

He brought forward examples, that Jove, the highest of gods, had been received by Alcmene, and Leda had obtained union with the same god, and very many others who had brought forth gods in childbirth; he persuaded her that from her too a god was to be begotten by him: he joined in intercourse with the woman, and she returned to her husband more joyful, saying that the woman had been joined with a god, and that by his promise she would bear a god. There arose great joy in the household over the woman’s and the husband’s disgrace. Afterward Mundus came upon the woman and said: “Blessed Paulina, in concubinage with a god: great is the god Anubis, whose mysteries you have received. But learn that, just as to gods, so also to men you must not refuse what the gods grant, which you had refused, since they do not disdain to give us their forms, nor their names. Behold, to his sacred rites the god Anubis has called Mundus too, that he might join with you.

What has your hardness profited you, except that you cheated yourself of the gain of the twenty thousand which I had offered? Imitate the gods, who are more indulgent, who grant to us without price what could not be obtained from you at a great price. But if human names offend you, it has pleased me to be called Anubis, and I have been assisted by the favor of this name.” Having heard this speech, the woman understood she had been deceived, and grieving over the injury to her chastity, confessed the fraud to her husband. He, having nothing for which to be indignant at his wife, to whom he himself had granted the power of sleeping in the temple, and being conscious of her conjugal chastity, brought his complaint to the prince.

He, moved by the insult to a powerful man and by the contrivance of the atrocious crime, seized the priests from the temple, subjected them to torture, put to death those who confessed, cast the statue of Isis into the Tiber, and granted Mundus the power to flee, since it was reckoned that, overcome by the force of love and the grace of beauty, he was punished with a lighter penalty for his misdeeds.

I did not think it should be passed over what mockery occurred while Tiberius was ruling, that from it the deformity of the emperor might be gathered. For just as the life of a good prince is a kind of prescription of uprightness, and a pattern of living for all, so the corruption of an emperor is a law of crimes. Sent by him into Judea was Pilate, a wicked man; and, resting a lie on a small pretext, he circumvented the Samaritans so that they should go to the mountain called Gadir; for it was sacred to them, since he wished to learn their mysteries. And ascending, he came upon the people with cavalry, and struck them down with an infantry force, forging the charge that they had prepared to secede from the Romans and seek a place of assembly for themselves.

For what would he not dare, who even nailed to the cross Christ the Lord, who had come for the salvation of the human race, pouring out upon men, through many and divine works, the grace of his mercy, and teaching nothing else than that peoples should render obedience first to God, then to their rulers? Mad indeed, to be the minister of sacrilegious fury, so as to kill the author of salvation. From that time, then, the affairs of the Jews were betrayed, from that time destruction hastened for the nation, and the overthrow of the temple was hastened. For if Herod, who delivered John to death, paid the penalty of his perfidy and cruelty, being cast down from his kingdom and given to exile, how much more is it to be understood that he was driven by headlong furies who killed Christ? But I will briefly set forth the cause of John’s death. We have shown above that Philip and Herod, who was formerly called Antipas, were brothers.

Philip’s wife was Herodias, whom Herod joined to himself by an unlawful and impious right of marriage. John did not endure this, and said to him: “It is not lawful for you to have your brother’s wife” (—sic). Then he, moved with anger, thrust John into prison. Not long after he killed the just man, the steadfast executor of the divine Law. For not only as a preacher of the Gospel did he reprove the incest of his brother’s bed, but also as an executor of the Law he condemned the transgressor of the Law, who had snatched away the wife of his living brother, especially one who had offspring by his own brother.

From this arose the hatred of almost all the Jews toward Herod and the hastening of his punishment: the instigator of which, Herodias, seeing that Agrippa had gained very great favor with Caesar, compelled him to go to Rome, so that he might win for himself the emperor’s favor, casting up to him the reproach of sloth, that by fleeing labors, while he lingered at home, he suffered unworthy men to be preferred to him. For since Agrippa had been made king from a private citizen, how much more would Caesar not hesitate to confer a kingdom upon him who had long been a tetrarch? And so, unable any longer to bear the woman’s reproaches, he set out for Rome; but while seeking the friendship of Caius, he was accused by Agrippa, and lost even the tetrarchy which he had received from Julius Augustus; and fleeing into Spain together with his wife Herodias, he was consumed by grief of mind.

When Tiberius also had died, Caius succeeded, who, wishing to be seen and called lord and god, gave the Jews causes for the gravest sedition, and had he not closed his reign by a hastened end, he would have brought about a swifter end for the Jewish nation. For he not only did not call his men back from unlawful acts, but even, having sent them into Judea, threatened the ultimate punishments unless they carried out everything, against right and religious law, by force of arms. Agrippa indeed had very great power in the empire; but while he wished to encircle Jerusalem with a very great wall, so that it might become impregnable to the Romans (for he foresaw the impending ruin), he was overtaken by death and left the work unfinished.

Nor did he exercise less power while Claudius ruled; for he was present even at the very beginnings of that emperor’s reign, when, Caius having been slain, Claudius himself, taken up by the soldiers into the empire, with the Senate resisting him, being weary of the kingdom, sent Agrippa as his envoy: through whose mediation the promised limits of moderation in rule, and a defined favor, brought about peace: in the place of Agrippa the father, Agrippa his son was substituted as king by Claudius Caesar.

Claudius himself too, when after thirteen years he was failing, gave Nero as prince to the Roman empire: won over by the persuasions of his wife Agrippina, who prevailed so much through her intrigues that she rendered Britannicus, the emperor’s son, designated as successor by the very right of nature, excluded from the principate. She soon repented of this artifice: for while she was consulting the prince begotten of herself, he refused her, not knowing that, once exalted to empire, he would not even acknowledge his mother, and would turn into her ruin the reward of this benefit: yet the same Nero held Octavia, Claudius’s daughter, in the place of a wife: in a preposterous order the son-in-law was preferred to the son; because evils weighed more heavily for the state, to which was owed a parricide, a sacrilegious man, an incestuous man—so that in him crimes, not any merits of good conduct, reigned.

Under such an emperor, whether from consideration of his character and contempt of his indolence, or because, on account of the grave sacrilege of the Jews, with the protection of the Most High God turned away, their final overthrow was being prepared, there broke out grave seditions, brigandage, dissensions—the insolence of those whom, for twenty years, Eleazar, chief of the brigands, most grievously ravaged: at length, however, he was captured by Felix, who was governor of Judea, and sent to Rome, and paid heavy penalties.

Yet not even so was the people who inhabited Judea broken by the great number of the slain; but in Jerusalem itself another kind of brigand sprang up, who were called sicarii, no longer hidden in secret places, nor lying in wait in the darkness of night for travelers without any guard, but in the light of day and in the midst of the city, amid the press of the crowd, they struck down whomever they had approached: carrying short swords in their hands, mixed in with the packed crowd, when they had struck one adhering to them, he fell unaware from a blind wound, so that death forestalled complaint: the funeral was open to view, but the striker lay hidden: and if anyone had been alarmed by another’s wound, he became nearer to becoming a portion of the slain himself. Thus, whether from fear of danger or from dissembling the crime, the sicarius was not caught: so great was the swiftness of those who lay in ambush, and their art of concealment.

The priest Jonathan was killed: many were added daily, and the fear of the living was heavier than the misery of the slain. As though to battle, so did each one go forth daily; yet under a graver condition, because an enemy is foreseen, whereas the sicarius lay hidden: death was before their eyes, fear in their souls. No one believed he would return, nor was trust extended to friends, while the sicarius was feared. By which fear very many, though innocent indeed of the crime of brigandage, or of fellowship with the sicarii, though guiltless in deed, yet weaker in counsel, sought the desert. But while they took thought for themselves, their departures created terror; from which first a suspicion, then a hatred, of war against the Romans blazed up: at which fear the governor of the province, having sent cavalry and an infantry column, brought about the greatest slaughter of the multitude.

An Egyptian, too, a false prophet, came, and, imbued with magic arts, while he boasted that by prophetic spirit he announced heavenly oracles, associated to himself nearly thirty thousand Jews, and gathering them at the Mount of Olives, penetrated Jerusalem with a repeated incursion; so that he even assailed the Roman guards, which, so that nothing should be stirred up by the people, were stationed before Jerusalem. When this insolence too had been suppressed, as in a sick body, another part became more gravely inflamed. For very many cried out openly that they must secede from the Romans, that liberty should be preferred to servitude, and, having advanced into the fields where sustenance was lacking, sought it by force.

At last a grave sedition arose in the city of Caesarea between the Jews and the gentiles, the Jews claiming for themselves the possession of the whole city as founded by Herod, a Jew, while the gentiles resisted, on the ground that though the founder was indeed a Jew, he had declared it under the name of Caesar. Moreover he had built a temple within it, and set up statues, and by that fact it seemed rather to be devoted to gentile uses. From these contentions the sedition turned to blows: since neither could the chief men of the Jews restrain their people, given over to sedition, nor did the gentiles think it anything but a disgrace, if they judged that they must yield to the Jews. Therefore they stirred up Felix, that while he strove to check the multitude of either party, which was not acquiescing, he might be consulted, especially by arms, since otherwise he could not. Felix was succeeded by Festus, who, having seized very many brigands, delivered no small number of them to final destruction.

Albinus also, entrusted with the same power by the Romans, left out no kind of wickedness, a shameless plunderer of rapine, so that whoever had not given money was dragged off to chains, however innocent; whoever had given it, even though guilty, was acquitted. Avarice bred in him arrogance, so that he showed himself a tyrant to the poorer, a slave to the richer. Yet though he surpassed the wickedness of his predecessors, he was so far outdone, at a long yet close interval, by his successor Florus—as one sluggish and slow in crimes—that by comparison with the worse man he was reckoned blameless. And those who at first had complained as afflicted, afterward longed for Festus as a good judge. For Festus had stripped individuals, but Florus plundered whole cities—most polluted in obscenities, most cruel in savagery, throwing everything into confusion with arms, and sowing battles upon battles; one who neither forgave when entreated, nor spared when sated.

In the very sight of Berenice, sister of King Agrippa, who had come to the temple for religion's sake, he raged with the most bitter slaughter upon the people; nor did he think it fit to defer to her entreaty, though he saw her standing barefoot in service to religion and beseeching him, but held her prayer in contempt. Wherefore she herself wrote to King Agrippa, and the people of the Jews sent a petition, seeking aid for their liberty. As he came out of Egypt, very many went forth to meet him more than sixty stadia from the city of Jerusalem, and having led him around through the city, when he had proven the truth of their complaints, they began to press him to send envoys to Nero.

But he, though himself pitying the grief of the citizens as his own, yet perceiving with deep foresight that the beginnings of war against the Romans were being stirred, lest both odium against himself and utmost peril for the people should be engendered, gathered the people together in one place near the temple, separated by a bridge, called the Xystus, and delivered the following speech.

Although grief, improvident in most men and impatient of counsel and moderation, makes some seethe with grave complaints, yet when counsel is taken, the feeling of grief must be set aside. For if I had found this whole people ready to avenge injuries and to bring war upon the Roman empire, and not rather of the better and calmer judgment, which prefers peace and sets quiet before all else, I would not have dared to come to you, nor to give counsel. For it is superfluous to urge what ought to be done, when the assent of the hearers inclines to the worse.

But since for some the experience of the evils of war is untried, while for others a superficial hope of liberty is very sweet to desire but generally grievous to obtain (for many, while seeking liberty, heap up servitude, and often the whole is snatched away from those to whom even the name of liberty had remained); and since others, to whom present advantage is displeasing to themselves, are enticed by novelty of affairs, and if matters are thrown into confusion, count it gain—therefore I thought counsel should be taken with you, lest either the sobriety of the more prudent be forestalled by the boldness of the more insolent, or those who do not know how to think rightly may at least, admonished by our discourse, learn that they ought to acquiesce in the counsel of the wiser. I judge, therefore, that silence should be granted, so that we may set forth what we think will profit you, and that none of you be disturbed if he hears something contrary to his own will.

For no one will be able to judge of what sort a thing is that is said, unless he first hears it, of which he himself is to be the judge—whether he approve or reject it; it is idle to be disturbed at hearing it. For it is permitted to each, even after consolation, to feel what he feels; and if separation is pleasing even after sober admonitions, to keep the sentiment of an unadvised will. But someone will say: Why would they wish to be heard in vain, if those who hear do not acquiesce? Because if they do not wish to acquiesce when they have heard, only a part of my audience, not the whole people, will be endangered; but if they refuse to hear at all, then even when a part disturbs the hearing, the whole people is deprived of the profit of hearing.

Therefore my speech will arise among those who are willing to hear, if silence is granted me even in part; for all speech will be intercepted and, as it were, wholly sink down, if it be hindered by the clamor of the assembly and the noise of the restless. There are, then, two matters which I think must first be answered, which weigh most heavily among the complaints: that many cry out about the injuries of the governors, and that many groan that their liberty has perished. These two propositions, it seems to me, must be separated. For if the governors are wicked, what need is there to extol liberty? Lest you seem to accuse the governors, as ministers of domination, not for their own fault, but out of disdain for servitude itself. Or if servitude is intolerable, then the complaint about the governors is superfluous. For even if it be more moderate under them, nevertheless servitude is still base. Let us consider, then, lest in either case there be no trifling material for wars.

For what is more foolish than to complain of injuries, and yet weave in war, and exchange insults for perils? While you flee the judge, you bring in the enemy: whereas an unjust judge is for the most part still an interpreter of law, but an enemy, even a just one, is always a seeker after your ruin. It behooves one, then, to temper, not to exasperate, the judge; to be wary of the enemy, lest in embittering the one you summon the other—since the former may be softened by conciliation, while the latter ought to be avoided, that he may have no power to harm. One must beware, then, concerning judges, lest the complaint be greater than the injury. Graver too is the odium of accusations than the price of what was actually done. For often those who at first offended more modestly, once accused, become more insolent; and those who before stole in secret, afterward plunder openly. Nothing so exasperates the heat of a wound as impatience in bearing it.

In fact, even among wild beasts themselves, the tightest bonds are drawn tighter if they excite themselves, and are loosened if they remain still; the violent force of fevers too is lessened by endurance, increased by restlessness. But if wild beasts know how to look to their own good, so as to forget their nature in order to ease their pain, how much more has frequent experience taught among men, that the endurance of those who are wronged has often shamed the wrongdoers, so that they have corrected without an accuser what, being accused, they would not have amended. But grant that the insolence of the Roman judges has been intolerable; what then is more tolerable—that all should suffer, or one? What justice is there, when one man has done the wrong, to bring war upon all? Are all Romans the authors of the injury? Is Caesar himself? Or was it deliberately chosen that a wicked man be sent to you?

But they cannot spy across the sea, nor turn their eyes to east and west at once, to see there what is done here; nor can they easily hear what, though anxiety demands it, distance denies as regards the difficulty of proof.

Shall then the fault of one man beget the discord of the Roman world, when even without your complaints swift correction is at hand, with no odium of accusation, no toil of journeying? For by yearly turns the Roman magistrates are changed. Whereby it comes about that neither does an insolent one remain long, nor is a more moderate one slow to succeed. Nothing then will be lost by keeping still, since remedy is brought even to those who remain still. But to weave in causes for war is pernicious; because the condition of war is harsh against all, but against the Romans it is the utmost. If you wish to flee them, since you cannot overcome them, you must abandon the whole world. But you plead a desire for liberty? This deliberation comes too late; you ought to have contended earlier, that you might not lose liberty, rather than that, having lost it, you should demand it back.

The experience of servitude is hard, and therefore from the beginning it should not have been undergone, or, once undertaken, should have been borne with equanimity. Then it was fitting to resist, when you were being called to servitude. That was the juster fight; but he who has once surrendered himself into servitude, even if afterward he wishes to withdraw himself, is not then asserted as a lover of liberty, but adjudged a contumacious slave. Where was this defense of liberty, when Pompey pressed upon your regions—when the lord entered the city—where were the arms for liberty? Why were they laid down by our fathers? And surely they were braver than we, they flourished in spirit, abounded in resources, desired to fight back; but they could not withstand even a small portion of the Roman army: they were conquered, but being spared, they acknowledged the yoke of servitude, that they might not endure the penalty of captivity. Why do you, as heirs, refuse what you owe by right of succession?

The affairs of your fathers bind you: how do you flee obedience, being so far inferior to those who obeyed? Or what will be left to you, who stir up against yourselves Caesar and all the might of Rome? How can you withstand those who have triumphed over all things, and are now aided by all who fight for them? And indeed the Athenians, for the liberty of all Greece, gave their fatherland to the flames, exchanging their homes for exile, so that Xerxes might not lord it over them—Xerxes, who sailed upon the land and walked upon the waves, whom neither the seas could contain nor the earth sustain, since the whole extent of Europe was enclosed within the passage of his march, within narrower limits of land than the provisioning of his army required: so they pursued him as he fled, that he, fleeing scarcely in a single ship, and needing aid, barely escaped captivity.

Yet those very men who broke the whole of Asia, for the sake of tiny Salamis, put to flight most gloriously that Xerxes who lorded it over the waves and subdued the seas, defeated in that very element which he thought subject to himself: now they serve the Romans, and the princes of all Greece obey the commands of the Italians; and those very Athens, which gave laws to others, now are subject to the laws of others. The Lacedaemonians too, after Thermopylae and the triumphs of the dead Leonidas, after Agesilaus the savior of Asia, now love their masters. Macedonia too and Africa, which through their own most valiant leaders had poured the empire of the whole world into their own rights and possessions, do not resent that power has been transferred from them, and, content with so great a change of affairs, wish for propitious masters—those very masters whom they had sought for servitude.

Neither the riches of Philip nor the triumphs of Alexander stir up the Macedonians, though they were leaders whom all judged, not without reason, the wisest and unconquered of all—since the one held himself against Greece, the other, fleeing the arms of Rome, reached victorious even to the Caspian kingdoms and the farthest secrets of subdued Persia and of the Indians: he obtained the name of Great, because he, the greatest of all, did not provoke it. Him, though an untimely death withdrew from a Roman triumph, nevertheless he too serves in his own descendants, in whom the spoils of the East were sought not as a support of dominion, but as the price of servitude, that the nobility of those in bondage might redound to the wealth of the victor. Great was the virtue of Alexander. Yet what wonder? He extended his victory as far as the ocean; the Romans, beyond the ocean. Witness is Britain, set outside the world, but by Roman valor brought back into the world.

Those whom an earlier age did not know, the victory of Rome has taught. They too serve, who did not know what servitude was: born only for themselves, and always free to themselves, because, separated by the ocean flowing between, from a higher power, they could not fear what they did not know. It was, then, a greater thing to have crossed over to the Britons than to have triumphed over the Britons. For what would they do, being already subjected to the clement empire of the Romans? The ocean taught them the endurance of servitude, after, the Roman ships themselves crossing over, they came to know a servitude unaccustomed to them. For why should I retell of Hannibal, who, victor over so many regions, himself served the triumphs of the Romans, for whom he opened the Alps, paved the way, subdued cities that were to be acquired for the victors? And he who often overcame, yet never closed off from the vanquished the hope of victory, once conquered himself, could not restore himself.

He yielded of his own accord to the victors, whom as victor he could not withstand; and casting away his victorious arms, he betook himself to King Prusias—from a general, a mercenary; from a triumphator, a fugitive. Let us come to the inhabitants of Gaul, peoples fierce by nature and made fiercer by their natural walls, whom not masonry walls but the ridges of the Alps guard from the rising sun, whom the ocean encloses from the west, the sheer heights of the Pyrenees from the south, the streams of the Rhine from the north, and the monstrous Germans, thought unconquerable and inaccessible, were deemed to have rendered them so by the benefit of these barriers: yet to the Romans, journeying above the clouds and extending their empire beyond the pillars of Hercules, nothing was impassable: with such good fortune did they conquer the enemy, even one that lay hidden; the Britons, though separated from the whole world. MAZOCHIUS.

Was found, and he who resisted was conquered: at whose unforeseen coming Germany believed that its mountains had settled down, that the Rhine had dried up, they who by the size of their bodies and their contempt of death were stronger than the rest, who used to think their Rhine a barrier before them, now think it a defense of their safety. And so now it is filled not with the forces of the Germans, but with Roman galleys, which, roaming through the streams of that two-horned river all the way to the sea, press into servitude peoples once free, so that they who before had presumed for themselves dominion over the whole world now pay the price of their own servitude. What good did the gold, torn from the veins of their own lands, do the Illyrians, to whom it was not abundant enough to buy their liberation? How much more precious is Roman iron, to which the gold of the Pannonias is subject?

So Pannonia gives the tribute of its gold, and willingly transfers its wealth to the Roman treasury, that it may be safer in its servitude. Nor does the muddy wave of the Pactolus, rich with gold, lift up its inhabitant into pride: he serves willingly, seeing that empires themselves serve; nor does the Indian marvel at his own gem, nor the Chinese at his own silk. Those things are cultivated for the use of masters, not as the price of merchandise, but as the offices of tribute. We hear of the proud empire of the Persians: but we have also seen their hostages, and though they themselves rule over many nations, yet they offer their own children and their own nobility. They rejoice to serve the Romans for the sake of the pledge of peace, and at the same time that by serving they may learn to command their own people: they offer garments, necklaces, even elephants to the Romans, kings imposing a single tribute.

Let us add Egypt, abounding in its own resources, and not lacking the rain of heaven, since it generates its own showers for itself, and creates the abundance of rains. In short, though it is hotter than all other regions, it alone does not complain of drought, and what is available nowhere else, it nourishes its harvests by irrigation. One sails upon the sands, one sails through the sown fields, where rain is unknown. Yet its fresh favor and natural fertility serve the Romans, so that for four months it feeds its masters. What shall I say of the city itself, named after a most valiant king, which, hedged by the wall of its river, knows no siege? Because the greatest of all rivers, its channel spread out over vast tracts of land, both removes the hindrances of siege and serves in the transport of things necessary for use? What could be more roused to rebellion than Egypt, which counts seven million five hundred thousand men, besides the inhabitants of Alexandria, enrolled under Roman authority?

And though it has so great a multitude, it prefers nevertheless to occupy itself with the tributes of the Roman empire rather than to serve under its own pay. I shall not pass over the Cyrenians, a race of the Lacedaemonians, who once contended with the Carthaginians over boundaries and dominion, offering death as the end of the contest.

Overcome by that offer, yet having avenged the injury, they yielded victory to the brothers of Philaenus: nor shall I pass over the Syrtes, terrible even in the mere hearing of them, because they draw everything toward themselves, and things approaching cling fast in the shoaly sea—experts in these matters have declared that a third part of the whole world is bounded from the Atlantic sea and the pillars of Hercules all the way to the Red Sea and the Ethiopians. Who could number the peoples of so many nations, supported by whom Carthage could not withstand the hand of Scipio, and preferred to feed Rome for two parts of the year against itself, rather than, leaning on the resources of others, rebel against the Romans? Crete too, famed for its hundred cities, displaying most fertile kingdoms, surrounded on every side by sea and waves as if by walls, accustomed to repel the enemy, fears a single consular governor, and its many peoples are bowed down in fear by the rods of six fasces.

Asia, Pontus, the Heniochi, the nomad Scythians, the Tauric Scythians, and the Maeotian kingdoms, and all the peoples of the Bosphorus, are subjected to Roman rule, and that sea once unnavigable is now plied by forty ships for the sake of peace. For what shall I say of Armenia, which not only keeps the peace of its own frontier, but even diligently watches the guarding of its gates, lest anyone should creep in to disturb the peace? All peoples therefore are eager to serve the Romans: do you alone disdain to be subject to those to whom all are subject? On what arms do you rely? In what soldiery are you proud? Where is the fleet of your ships, that it should blockade straits, that it should sail across the seas of the Romans? For indeed the very elements have passed over into their name, into whom also the whole world has passed, which is enclosed and bounded by the Roman empire: in short, by most it is called the Roman world.

For if we seek the truth, as we said above, the earth itself lies beneath the Roman empire, above which Roman valor, having advanced beyond the ocean, sought for itself another world, and in Britain, remote from the confines of the earth, found for itself a new possession. In short, those to whom is denied not only the right of Roman citizenship, but almost of human intercourse itself, are directed thither, that they may dwell there, as exiles of the world. The ocean has yielded within its own bounds; the Roman knows how to seek out its inner secrets: war will be waged even with you yourselves, against whom not even nature possesses its own right. That Euphrates, inaccessible before except to its own inhabitants, is now Roman from both its banks, and signifies that the whole East is under Roman rule. The Ister, flowing in the northern regions among savage and countless nations, receives hostages, restrains enemies.

The southern region, as far as it can be habitable, is ploughed for the Romans, and gathers its harvest for them; in a certain setting, the farthest coast of the lands, the shore of Cadiz, receives new guests, who bring their tributes to the Roman empire. It too has somewhere to direct its wares: where before it thought there was only shipwreck, there now it borrows commerce. Since therefore all things are the Romans', whence will you seek defenses against the Romans? From what uninhabitable region will you demand allies? For whoever are in the world, all are Romans. Will you send an embassy beyond the Euphrates to the Adiabeni? But neither do they have leisure to abandon their own affairs, nor does the Parthian allow the peace he has sought to be interrupted, lest he himself be held guilty of rebellion among his neighbors.

Do not think that war to be like one in which you would have to wage battles against Arabs and Egyptians; Roman arms are of another kind, resources gathered from the whole world are of another kind: nor let the defenses of Jerusalem's walls flatter you; the Romans have broken through the stronger wall of the ocean: but do you presume upon the help of religion, when the disciples of Jesus have already filled the Roman world? Or do we think that religion grows without the nod of God, and that the city of Rome extends its dominion above all religions? This religion of ours has long since abandoned us, because we have abandoned the faith, and have repeatedly repeated things forbidden by heavenly commands. Whence has the Egyptian come upon us? How have we become captives of the Assyrians? Has not Scripture said these things would come to pass? Is it not written that all the sacraments of the temple would be profaned?

Things which, having already been profaned many times over, no longer represent their own power and the whole grace of the divine mysteries: The temple has been contaminated with human blood, the couches have been filled with corpses, the altars drenched with Roman blood, battle has been fought on the sabbath: a transgression has been committed, while the temple is defended not by its own observance and the solemnity of its feasts, but by bloody battle. And this indeed will happen again. How then can we, as against enemies and adversaries of religion, merit divine help, when we ourselves bring transgression upon our own religion? What remedy then is there, when neither human resources support us, nor divine grace assists? One of these two things is wont to invite some to war; you lack both. What then remains, except manifest destruction?

Which you do not avoid while it is still possible to be cautious; nothing else will happen except that you yourselves will burn down your own homeland, and set fire to the temple, and give over to death your wives and children as well, of whose supreme loss you will be the authors: since the increase of all evils is inconsolable, being ascribed to our own fault, the things we now endure. Add to this that the wars of other cities are ended by the destruction of their own inhabitants: your rebellion will be the destruction of the whole religion, which, spread throughout the whole world, has sown peoples everywhere, and in every city there is a portion of our people. By your battle, therefore, all Jews will be implicated, nor will there be any region free from our blood. But if the Romans are such that they do not persecute the Jews, nor are provoked to war: how unjust is it that war be brought against those from whom you hope for humanity.

It is good, dearest friends, it is good, while the ship is still in harbor, to foresee the coming storm, and let no one thrust himself into imminent dangers, lest, when you have gone out into the deep, you can no longer avoid shipwreck. And often indeed a sudden storm arises, and war is met, even if it is not provoked: but it matters whether one provokes the enemy or receives him. He who is not provoked is more inclined to spare; and necessity excuses insolence: but where someone plunges himself headlong into peril, he is burdened also with reproach. This is not an enemy whom you can avoid by flight. Wherever you go, danger will follow: nay, you will find the enemy everywhere. For all are friends of the Romans; and whoever is outside the friendship of the Romans is the enemy of all.

Let love of your homeland come upon you: if regard for your children, if for your wives, does not call you back, let regard for the most sacred temple call you back: spare at least religion: spare the most sacred priests, whom the Romans no longer spare, nor even the temple itself, which they regret having spared: since already for a long time all the nations have wished to extinguish our religion, which nevertheless Pompey, though he could have extinguished it, spared. I have omitted nothing; I have warned you of all things that pertain to your safety: this I urge upon you, which I choose for myself: consider what is useful for you and for me: I wish for peace to be between you and me and the Roman people: if you refuse, you yourselves tear away my fellowship from you: either there will be favor common to all, or danger without me.

Saying this, he wept, and Berenice his sister also wept: for she too was in the upper part of the Xystus, and Agrippa had greatly moved them by his tears, so that the Jews said: We do not make war on the Romans; but we judge that war must be waged against Florus, who has committed deeds worthy of war. Agrippa answered: But this is to bring war upon Rome: your deeds seek out an injury against the Romans. It is not from Florus, but from the Romans; not from Florus, but from Caesar, that tribute is denied: it is not the soldier of Florus, but of the Romans, that is in the fort called Antonia, from which, by tearing down and dividing the porticoes, you have separated the temple, so that the guard might be cut off. Restore the former arrangement: let the tribute owed to Caesar be paid to Caesar; lest Florus report that it is not himself, but Caesar's authority, that has been repudiated by you.

The people acquiesced in these words, so that they went up with Agrippa into the temple, began to rebuild the porticoes as they had been, and collected the tribute. In short, in a short time, diligent agents having been sent for such duties, forty talents were gathered, which were lacking for the payment of tribute. All the tumult of war had been suppressed: but Agrippa, wishing to add to this that they should obey Florus, until a successor came to him from Caesar, so exasperated the people that they did not even refrain from insulting him, but drove him from the city, hurling some stones, it is uncertain whether they struck him. Moved by this injury, the king had those responsible arrested and sent to Florus. He himself, however, withdrew into his own kingdom.

He having departed, the instigators of war, ambushes having been arranged, seized the fortress of Masada, and having slain the Roman guards, appointed their own men. Eleazar also, son of the chief priest, a man of headlong boldness, urged that no gift or sacrifice from any foreigner should be received: which was the beginning of war against the Romans, and stirred up everyone into tumult. Therefore the most influential men, seeing that this matter arose from a presumption meant to cause dissension, pleaded with the people that not only was war being brought upon Caesar, but the institutions of religion were being violated, and the reverence of the temple diminished: the traditions of the fathers were being censured and condemned, who had adorned the temple with the gifts of foreigners, to which much greater wealth had accrued from the contribution of the nations, and from the gifts of diverse and innumerable peoples: that the sacred things of the ancestors were being obliterated, the sacred rites being made new.

What would become of those things which had already been offered, if in like manner the gifts of the nations were forbidden to be offered in the future? Or if it were forbidden to the Romans alone what was permitted to all others, what incitement to war would that be? Finally, it would be impious if among the Jews alone it were not permitted either to sacrifice or to bring offerings for others. They ought to consider that the peace of Caesar would be dissolved; and that he, offended by such a disturbance, would doubtless act so as to take away from the Jews all use of sacrifices; so that they who had refused Caesar's sacrifice would not even sacrifice for themselves—this must be forestalled in good time.

For if such counsels reached Florus, and from him, without doubt, Caesar, they would bring destruction upon the Jewish nation: at the same time, wishing to establish these things by the testimony of the priests, they asked whether it had ever been renounced by their ancestors to offer sacrifices for the nations: and since this could not be made clear, those ready for sedition raised an uproar; nor did even the ministers of the altar dare to insert themselves into so great a contest of disputants: one remedy alone seemed to remain, that Florus and King Agrippa should come with a military force, so that those who could by no means be recalled by counsel might at least desist through fear. But Florus, who wished the sedition to increase, so that there might be no room for pardon for the Jews (for unless they were entangled in war, all opportunity would be extinguished for pressing charges of his rapacities and his more grievous crimes), allowed the fury of war to grow, and gave no answer at all to the envoys.

Agrippa, however, was most eager for the embassy of Scylus and Antipas and Custobar, his kinsmen, a mission good for the common welfare, that he might preserve the Jews for the Romans, and for the Jews their religion, for their homeland the temple, for the citizens the city, and for himself the honor of empire and the tranquility of the kingdom; he sent three thousand horsemen under Darius and Philip, leaders of squadrons, so that, relying on this aid, the counselors of the better party might strive the more readily. From this arose confidence in the good, and indignation in the wicked, and war grew. While a more just cause moved the one side—though it availed nothing for the actual clash of arms—fury and the sheer number of the multitude inflamed the other, and the battle lines of the combatants were divided.

The chief priests and that portion of the common people who wished for peace, together with the royal horsemen, occupied the upper part of the city: the others, situated in the interior, claimed for themselves as sacred the temple and the neighboring places. First they provoke war on both sides with stones and rocks and the hurling of missiles, then they fight it out with arrows. Afterward, as the necessity of battle chanced to present itself, hand-to-hand combat ensued: the royal forces excelled in skill and experience, wishing to keep the instigators of war from approaching, lest they defile the temple; while, on the contrary, Eleazar and his men were eager to invade also the upper city, which was called Sion: for seven days without any intermission the fighting continued. The eighth day, the day of the festival on which all were accustomed to lay wood upon the altars, lest at any time the fire, which was required to remain inextinguishable, should fail, added fury, so that all the ministers were excluded from the temple.

As the assassins rushed forth more boldly than usual, the royal party gave way, not daring to hold their ground even in the upper parts: the houses of Agrippa and Berenice were burned, all the royal furnishings plundered: fire was carried about, so that the bonds of debtors, which were kept stored in the public archives, might be burned up. So that the poor might rise more insolently against their creditors, thinking themselves freed from every obligation, they set fire to the city with their own hands, the sinews of the city were burned out, the fortress called Antonia was stormed, all the guards found there were slain, and it was afterward set on fire. Manaemus also, son of Judas the Galilean, a sharp and skilled sophist, and practiced in stirring up disturbances, rushing forth to Masada, seized the armories, and armed the unarmed.

Returning to Jerusalem, attended by a bodyguard as if in royal fashion, he had grown so monstrously insolent that, going beyond private custom, he thought he should not even refrain from unlawful acts which a free people could not endure: when many rose up against him, upbraiding him—propped up by royal attire—as a tyrant and lord who had fallen upon the liberty of the citizens, he suffered grave penalties, so that, afflicted first by tortures, he died; yet the discord was not thereby removed. For a much graver disturbance arose. At last Metilius, with the Roman soldiers, begged that he be allowed to depart: and when pledge had been given and oaths interposed, when, according to the agreement, they had laid down their arms, as they were departing without fear, many were slaughtered by Eleazar and the members of his faction: thinking that they should not resist force, nor plead, but only cry out that faith had been violated and that it was the perjury of the treacherous.

All were thus slain: Metilius himself, the commander of the soldiers, by pleading and beseeching, at the same time promising to become even a Jew, even to the point of circumcision, was alone spared.

All Judea was ablaze: the whole province of Syria too was roused to war. Finally the Caesareans killed all the Jews they had among them: roused by this grief, the Jews attacked and overcame very many cities of Syria: nowhere was there law, nowhere religion: the more noble man was he who had plundered the more, as though heaping up the rewards of courage. It was a pitiable spectacle, when unburied bodies lay everywhere in the cities; old men mixed with children, women too, without even the coverings by which their modesty might be shielded from the shame of onlookers being left to them: all things foul and full of a pitiable sight, which, though they exceeded in dreadful horror a grievous and wicked cruelty, still threatened each other with even worse. There was a monstrous banditry between Jews and Syrians, since there was no hope of safety except that they should forestall one another. For what city was there that did not have Jews and Syrians mixed together?

Days were spent in blood, nights in dread: there was no limit either to hatred or to greed. For besides the diversity of sects and worship, which had broken out into a public evil, so that on either side they wished each other ruined; the desire of greed for possessing and plundering had so invaded the mind, that they thought no one whom they had marked for death for the sake of plunder should be spared. Why should I speak of the lesser number of those slain? For apart from the Antiochenes, the Sidonians, and the Apameans, scarcely any people did not persecute the Jews dwelling among them. The Gerasenes, however, even escorted those willing to leave as far as their own borders, so that they might depart without any deceit.

At Alexandria, indeed, a contention having arisen between the gentiles and the Jews, while the Hebrews demanded vengeance, and, having seized torches, threatened to burn the assembled gentile populace in the amphitheater, Tiberius Alexander, prefect of the place, who was occupied with other matters, was drawn to attend to this, and at first indeed tried to restore the public concord with peaceful speeches. But when he perceived that he was being mocked for the very things he was earnestly advising, and that so great a sedition could be put down in no other way, he gave the soldiers authority to attack them; who, having fallen upon the surrounded multitude, wrought the greatest slaughter throughout the whole city: killing some who resisted, others who fled, others hiding in their own homes, with no mercy shown even to little children, nor reverence for the aged, nor regard for the modesty of women.

Thus about fifty thousand of the Jews were slain: the streets swam with blood, everything was filled with corpses, the flames crackled through the city in a savage conflagration, which, having been carried into the houses of the Jews, consumed the neighboring buildings as well. Yet Alexander, moved at last, ordered the soldiers to hold back, and sounded the retreat: yet the anger of the mob, once it had advanced to the point of the power to kill, was by no means to be soothed.

For they were paying the penalties of their crimes, they who, after they had crucified the Lord Jesus, the judge of all divine things, afterward also persecuted his disciples. Very many of the Jews, however, and very many of the Gentiles believed in him, being drawn by his moral precepts and by works flowing beyond human power: for whom not even his death set an end to faith or to grace, but rather increased their devotion. They laid, therefore, parricidal hands upon him, and led the author of life to Pilate to be put to death: they pressed the reluctant judge hard.

In this, however, Pilate was not thereby excused, but the madness of the Jews was heaped the higher; because neither should he have condemned one whom he had by no means found guilty; nor should they have doubled sacrilege with parricide, that they should be slaughtered by him who had offered himself for their redemption and healing: concerning which even the Jews themselves bear witness, Josephus the writer of histories saying, that there was at that time a wise man, "if indeed," he says, "one ought to call him a man," a doer of wondrous works: who appeared to his disciples living again after the third day of his death, according to the writings of the prophets: who prophesied both these things and countless other things full of wonders concerning him: from whom began the congregation of the Christians: and it has penetrated into every race of men; nor has any nation of the Roman world remained without a share in his worship.

If the Jews do not believe us, let them at least believe their own: this Josephus said, whom they themselves consider the greatest. And yet, though in this very matter he spoke the truth, he was so astray in mind that he did not even believe his own words, but spoke for the sake of the credibility of his history, because he thought it wicked to deceive: he did not believe because of the hardness of his heart and the intent of his unbelief: yet his not believing did not prejudice the truth, but rather added to its testimony, because even unbelieving and unwilling, he did not deny it. In this the eternal power of Christ Jesus shone forth, that even the rulers of the synagogue, who had seized him for death, confessed him God.

And truly, as though God, speaking without exception of persons, or any fear of death, he also foretold the coming destruction of the temple: but it was not the injury to the temple that moved them, but because they were being reproved by him for their crimes and sacrileges, hence their wrath blazed up, so that they killed him whom no age had ever produced the like of. For while others had merited by prayer to do what they did, he had it in his power to command whatever he wished to be done. Before the death of Jesus, John the Baptist, a holy man, had been killed, who never in all the ages had set forth the truth of salvation falsely. Indeed, in addition to all the things full of justice that he taught, by which he invited the Jews to the worship of God, he also instituted baptism for the purification of soul and body.

The cause of his death was liberty of speech, in that he could not endure that Herod had violated the rights of his brother's marriage, having taken away his brother's wife. For when this same Herod was going to Rome, entering, for the sake of hospitality, the house of his brother, whose wife was Herodias, daughter of Aristobulus, sister of King Agrippa, he dared, forgetful of nature, to solicit her, that, having left his brother, she should marry him: and when he had returned from the city of Rome, by the consent of the woman a pact of incest was entered into. Word of this matter reached the daughter of King Aretas, who was still remaining in marriage with Herod.

She, indignant at her rival, when her husband returned, suggested that he be sent to the town of Macherus, which was on the border of the kingdom of Petra and of Herod: he, suspecting nothing, and also because he had already diminished all his affection toward her, so that he might the more easily keep his pact with Herodias by sending away his wife, agreed to her suggestion. But she, when she drew near to her father's kingdom, having made it known to her father Aretas, betrayed him, who through an ambush utterly destroyed the whole army of Herod when war was provoked, the betrayal having been made by those of the people of Philip the tetrarch who had allied themselves with Herod. Whereupon Herod brought a complaint to Caesar: but the vengeance ordered by Caesar was taken away by the indignation of God.

For in the very preparation of the war, the death of Caesar was announced, and this, we find, was reckoned and believed by the Jews (on the authority of Josephus, a witness competent against himself) that it was not by the deceit of men, but by the disturbance of God, that Herod lost his army, and justly indeed on account of the vengeance for John the Baptist, a just man, who had said to him: "It is not lawful for thee to have thy brother's wife". But we relate these things as though the Jews had kept even among themselves the lawful order, among whom the right of the high priesthood had perished, seized either by avarice or by the insolence of the more powerful, who thought that whatever they wished was lawful. For from the beginning Aaron was the high priest, who by God's will transmitted by legitimate unction the prerogative of the priesthood to his sons, from whom, by order of succession, men were appointed, holding the headship of the priesthood.

Whence by ancestral custom it prevailed that no one should become chief of the priests unless he were of the blood of Aaron, to whom first such right of priesthood had been conferred. But it was not lawful for a man of another lineage, not even a king, to succeed to it. Hence Uzziah, because he usurped the office of the priesthood, was covered with leprosy, and cast out from the temple, and spent the rest of his life without rule: and certainly he was an excellent king, but it was not lawful for him to usurp the office of religion.

From the time when the fathers went out of Egypt, up to the building of the temple which Solomon founded, there were thirteen chief priests, which makes two hundred and twelve years, because at first the one who was chief priest remained until his death, and no one was substituted in his place among the living. Afterward, however, they began to be appointed from among the living. Therefore these thirteen obtained the priesthood by succession; in these times there was both aristocracy and monarchy, the power of Judges and of Kings. Again, from Solomon to the time of the captivity, when the people migrated into Syria, the city having been captured and the temple burned, there were eighteen chief priests over four hundred and sixty years, six months, and ten days; the people, moreover, were in captivity for seventy years afterward.

Later, when Cyrus dismissed the people of the fathers from the region of the Assyrians, and gave the power of building the temple, he also permitted Josedech the chief priest, who had been led away together with them, to return, so that the rite of the ancient solemnity might be restored through the knowledge of an accustomed priest. He himself, therefore, and his descendants, fifteen men in number, from the return of the people up to Antiochus Eupator, performed the office in order of succession, and represented the chief priesthood for four hundred and fourteen years. First Antiochus, whom we mentioned above, and his general Lysias, after killing Onias the chief priest, substituted Alcimus in his place in the priesthood. Although he was of the race of Aaron, he was not, however, of that same house.

Whence Ananias, brother of Onias, going into Egypt, sought from Ptolemy Philometor, and Cleopatra the wife of Philometor, who had introduced into the worship of the city of Alexandria a rite of observance resembling the Hierosolymite solemnity, that a chief priest might be appointed there, since Alcimus did not have a legitimate succession to the priesthood; and yet this same man, having died when three years had passed, did not merit to have a successor, he who had abrogated the solemnity of legitimate succession. Thus the city was seven years without a chief of the priesthood. Up to this time the return of the fathers from the lands of the Assyrians maintained a democracy, because the Jewish people recognized that they had been led into captivity through the iniquities of the kings.

Afterward the Asamoneans, having obtained the power of presiding over the people, appointed Jonathan chief priest, who, having undertaken the office for seven years, met his end through the treachery of Tryphon, in whose place his own brother Simon succeeded, as though by hereditary right, yet by election; whom we have learned was killed by the treachery of his son-in-law amid a banquet; from him the prerogative of the priesthood passed to his son Hyrcanus, whom flight had rescued from danger. To Hyrcanus succeeded Aristobulus, who also joined the kingship to the aforesaid office, so as to be a partaker of both; and to Aristobulus, Alexander was substituted. In Alexander both the kingship and the priesthood remained until the last day of his life, for twenty-seven years, but for the most part in a doubtful state: for the victory between him and Demetrius was uncertain, and there was immense hatred from the citizens.

This same Alexander, dying, seeing that the inheritance of his hatreds was dangerous for his sons, wished his wife Alexandra, experienced in the exercise of rule and accustomed to shared counsels, yet more pleasing to the people because she had often been a refuge to those endangered by her husband's cruelty, and a moderating influence on her husband, to preside over the royal helm: appointing her at the same time as arbiter as to which of his sons the high priesthood should especially be entrusted. She substituted Hyrcanus for his father in the priesthood, either on account of the prerogative of greater age, or because, being of a gentler disposition than his brother, he seemed unlikely to stir up any troubles for his mother over matters of the kingdom. To Aristobulus she committed none of the public offices.

But he, even while his mother was living, yet taking occasion of her illness, played the king in remote and more fortified places: offended by which, his mother, and anxious over the complaints of Hyrcanus, nourished the force of her illness, and, having advanced no further than nine years of rule, left Hyrcanus heir of all things: not because she presumed he would preserve it, but lest she should aid an unworthy man, or inflame the insolence of a usurper by a more favorable judgment: but the death of Alexandra took away from Hyrcanus both priesthood and kingdom. For, defeated in war, he betook himself to more fortified places, and having kept the wife and children of Aristobulus whom he had found in the fortress, he embraced changing the condition, so that all power should pass to Aristobulus, along with the priesthood: he himself, a private person, would withdraw into the house of Aristobulus. Yet he was not long content to have exchanged the royal court for a private dwelling.

For, stirred up by Antipater, he first hastened into Arabia, as though protesting the injustice of the pact. Then, when he perceived the help of the Arab king to be too weak against the Romans, whom Aristobulus had enticed into alliance with himself through Scaurus, he brought his complaint to Pompey as he came, who struck with war Aristobulus, mocking him, now in his third year of rule, captured him by authority, and delivered him into custody before the victory; and having overcome his people and captured the city, ordering the captive himself with his sons to be sent to Rome, he restored to Hyrcanus the dignity of the priesthood, and set him over the citizens as a president, yet without the diadem and the insignia of kingship. Generous indeed in honor, but a counselor of quiet, lest peace be disturbed by the spirit of fraternal insolence.

Thus Aristobulus, though captured, nevertheless stripped Hyrcanus of the kingdom; who afterward spent twenty-four years in power, more in use than in name: yet that was not the end of life for Hyrcanus which was the end of his power. For the remaining time turned to disgrace, as we mentioned above: since, defeated in battle, when the Parthians crossed the Euphrates, he was captured, and given into the power of Antigonus, son of Aristobulus, and having had his ears cut off, not even thus did he fill up the bitterness of his wretched misery. For after that, led away as an exile into Parthia as well, feeble, an old man, he provided a mockery of himself to the barbarians; and having learned afterward that Herod was ruling, by whose marriage his granddaughter Mariamne was possessed, he returned into Judea. There, at first received with the highest appearance of honor, because this was a veil for treachery, not long after, afflicted by a charge that he wished to seek back power, he was put to death.

Herod, therefore, having obtained the kingdom, which he had received from the Romans as the reward for the storming or betrayal of his country, substituted, in place of Antigonus who had held rule for three years and three months, successors in the priesthood, not of the Asamonean race, whom we have learned to have been of a more illustrious lineage, but any ignoble men whom either lust or chance had provided: yet, wearied by the entreaties of Alexandra his mother-in-law, or terrified by accusations, he made Jonathan, his wife's brother, then seventeen years of age, priest, whom soon after he himself delivered to destruction, suspecting his rule, because he saw the immense favor of the whole people toward him growing day by day. Having therefore set aside Ananelus, whom he had already appointed to the priesthood from among the ignoble before Jonathan, he chose the rest in order in this manner, men about whom he could have no suspicion.

For since he had not been able to endure such a thing in a relative by marriage, how would he not guard against similar things in strangers? In such appointments, Archelaus, following the pattern of his father's custom, held to a narrower policy of mind: by a certain habit ingrained in mortals, that the dullness of the sluggish is less suspected among them than the favor shown to the good; since a weak mind is more insolent in prosperous affairs, but a prudent one knows how to return the favor for benefits received. Therefore, from the reign of Herod up to the Roman empire, which, after Archelaus was deposed, had joined Judea to the other provinces, and thence up to the destruction of the temple and the triumph of Titus, there were twenty-eight chief priests, over one hundred and seventy years. Indeed among most of them there was only the performance of the office of dignity, while among few was there also the right of power.

It is clear, therefore, that the succession of the legitimate line did not persist among the chief priests: because not all who were substituted in his place were of Aaron or of his sons, who left behind for the rest the form of the prescribed succession.

And so, since the institutions of their ancestors had been corrupted by the avarice or perfidy of their own people, the laws of religion violated, the defenses of equity overthrown; not undeservedly did divine assistance abandon them, and to such a degree did the advance proceed against the people, as it were into an emptied space, with every kind of injury, that they turned their hands against themselves in domestic seditions: they were afflicted by grievous robberies, and were allotted the most vile judges, so that worse men succeeded the wicked: indeed, Albinus was considered the worst of those before him; but with Florus as his successor, this same Albinus was counted among the good, Florus who lit the torch of war, and kindled the battle between the Jews and the Romans; which was the cause of the final destruction of the temple and the city.

For Cestius, when he learned that the Jews were ablaze with the fury of war, he who had undertaken from the Romans the command of the chief military authority in the parts of Syria, in the twelfth year of the reign of Nero took up arms, in order to avenge the killing of the Roman soldiers to whom had been entrusted the guarding of order and the maintenance of peace. And having gathered also the auxiliary forces of his allies, he entered Judea, and allowed the army to plunder the city called Zabulon, its inhabitants having fled in fear, full of riches which the owners, fleeing to the higher parts of the mountains, had not been able to carry away with them.

Admiring also the beauty of the public works, he ordered it to be burned: and as though this were too little for vengeance, having sent the army ahead to Joppa, so that no one might escape destruction by flight, those who had been assigned occupied it by land and sea, and after eight thousand men and about four hundred more had been slain, when the plunder had gone to spoil, the city was burned. He also laid waste the vicinity of Caesarea, plundering whatever was found, and burning the villages. His onrush was broken at Sepphoris, all the citizens coming out to meet Cestius, and, softened by the favor and goodwill of the citizens, he left the city free from disaster. In these places a gathering of robbers was seething, but at the approach of the army they had withdrawn into the mountains. These, when Gallus, commander of the twelfth legion, was joining battle, attacked him fiercely and harassed him so much that they killed about two hundred of the Romans.

But when they occupied the higher ground, the robbers could not endure the infantry at close quarters, and fleeing, were easily surrounded by the cavalry and slain. Thus more than two thousand were killed, a few put to flight, who were able to hide in the steep parts of the mountains. And the whole region having been purged of robbery, Gallus returned to Caesarea. Cestius with his whole force proceeded to Antipatris, against whom the Jews gathered no small multitude. But before they joined battle, having scattered in different directions, they abandoned the region and the villages to plunder and fire. Lydda too was found empty of inhabitants, and burned. Gabaon, which was fifty stadia from Jerusalem, when it received the Roman army placed in its sight, armed the Jews. These, having set aside the observance of the Sabbath (which they began with ancient worship and solemn observance), rushed upon the Romans with such force that they would have turned back the whole army, had not the cavalry come to the aid of the struggling infantry.

Five hundred and fifteen men of the Romans were slain, but all were gravely endangered: of the Jews, however, twenty-two were lost in the battle. In this place the valor of Monobazus and Cedeus shone forth; who, having learned that the Jews were rising up against the Roman lines, attacked them from the front, drove back most of them, and forced them to return into the city.

Simon also stripped the Romans, ascending near the neighboring city, of their baggage. Whence Cestius kept himself in the region for three days. During this delay, the enemy pressed round on all sides, and being posted in the higher places, watched every entrance, lest anyone should burst in unlooked for. Perceiving that this could not be attempted without great slaughter on both sides, King Agrippa sent his men Lorcyus and Phœbas, to tell the people that whatever crime had been committed by them against the Romans would be pardonable, if only for the future, laying down their arms, they would take counsel for themselves: reckoning that either all might be persuaded to renounce battle, or at least a part might be drawn away from the rest. But the seditious, on the contrary, fearing lest either of these should come to pass, set upon the envoys and slew Phœbas; Lorcyus, however, though wounded, barely managed to escape.

Cestius, seeing such dissensions in the city, in which some rose up against the envoys, while others urged that the Romans should be received into the city, attempted to break in, and drove back those who resisted as far as Jerusalem: and he himself with his army approached to the third stade of the aforesaid city, and there spent three days. On the fourth day, having made an assault, he entered and at once set fire to Bethesda and Cenopolis. Climbing to the higher parts of the city, while the seditious fled into the interior, if he had thought fit to break into the city, without doubt the whole war would have been ended. In fact Ananus, son of Jonathas, had stationed a great many, to invite the Romans in with their voices, as though about to unbar the gates. But while Cestius was either called back by Priscus, or many of the centurions, corrupted by Florus, desired the war to grow, or he had too little confidence, Ananus with his men was thrown down from the wall.

As they fled back to their own, the seditious seized their place: and the Romans, trying various approaches for five days, when they saw that a breach was impossible for them, chose out the strongest men and archers, and attacked the temple from the northern side: the Jews too did not rest from fighting bravely, and, having often repulsed the enemy, grew more elated. At last, however, some wounded by the multitude of arrows, others struck and terrified, gave way: the Romans set about undermining the wall and setting fire to the gate of the temple.

Great terror had come upon the seditious, and a certain consternation of mind: many indeed, as though the city's destruction were about to follow immediately, were withdrawing themselves in flight; and not daring to stand their ground, they gave the people confidence, so that, when those by whose multitude it had been surrounded departed, it poured itself round the gates as though now free, and stripped of a kind of siege by wicked men; and, these being opened, it might receive Cestius, as though he had come not to besiege but to defend the city: but a sudden stupor seized Cestius himself too, so that he perceived neither the desperation of the wicked nor the eagerness of the people. If he had persisted a little while in what he had begun, he would have driven off the war, he would have taken the city.

But the will of God (as far as it is given to understand) being adverse to the Jews, postponed the impending outcome of the war, until it should involve very many, indeed almost the whole Jewish nation, in ruin. It was awaited (as I think) that every wickedness and enormity of crimes should increase, and that by the growth of impiety it should match the measure of their final offenses. What was that, that when Cestius ought to have pressed forward, he suddenly recalled his army and lifted the siege? Because, by a sudden and unexpected reversal of affairs, the spirits of the good were broken, and those of the robbers, being lifted up, took courage; and turning from flight to pursuit, they attacked the rear of the column, and there cut down many, horse and foot, rushing in confusion.

And now the day had declined: whence Cestius, fearing the nearness of night and the darkness of the shadows, in which those familiar with the places would trust the more, so as to press upon those uncertain of the region from every side, set up a rampart before the city, and on the next day, though he was abandoning the enemy, armed himself, so that they might think the reason for his departure was fear. And so the robbers, surrounding him on the flanks and from the rear, began to cut down the hindmost; harassing the marching army with javelins, the great force of missiles hurled at the closely packed ranks was not easily wasted. If anyone dared to strike back, he was exposed to wounding; if anyone turned himself against the assailant, he was left by his own men, and hemmed in by the enemy. For he who follows is always better protected than he who goes before: because the latter covers his breast, the former exposes his back to the enemy.

The Romans, therefore, were violently pressed, as though besieged who had come as besiegers: nor could they any longer endure or bear it, themselves weighed down by the burden of their arms, while the enemy were swifter, whom it was not easy to overtake, and there was the greatest fear lest the line should be broken: so, under this unequal condition of combat, they could not harm the enemy, while they themselves were being severely afflicted. Cestius hesitated, uncertain in counsel, when he saw his men being worn down along the whole march: with many even of the foremost of the army afflicted, he halted for two days, as though to restore the weary.

But when he saw the number of the enemy increasing more and more, and everything round about filled with adversaries, and that his own delay was working against him, because more were gathering; on the third day, seeking a shorter way of easier passage, he ordered the baggage of the column to be brought up: the beasts of burden were slaughtered, most of the wagons broken up, and other such things which were more a burden than of use in dangers were consumed or thrown down, such as siege engines or kinds of weapons, by which things they were the more terrified, lest they should arm the enemy against themselves with their own supplies.

When the Jews perceived this, that flight rather than battle was being prepared by the Romans, they occupied the narrower parts of the road, pressed less upon the more open places, blocked the front, hemmed in the flanks, pressed upon the rear, drove them into a precipice, into which, hemmed in on every side or having slipped, they were cast down: many covered the sky with javelins, covered the column with arrows, never relaxing their effort, but only through the destruction of their adversaries. Now not even the foot-soldiers themselves could stand their ground; but greater was the danger of the horsemen, who, their horses slipping on the steep and slick rocks, were overturned, nor could they keep formation, hemmed in by the narrow path. On one side were cliffs, on the other precipices, denying both place of flight and of defense.

The Jews, on the contrary, were the more inflamed by hope of victory, pressed upon the weary, pursued those who lagged, insulted those in despair, and would almost have destroyed the whole forces of the Roman army, had not night come to the rescue: by whose darkness the battle was hindered, so that the Romans encamped in a nearby place (called Bethoron): so that the Jews, spread round on every side, watched the exits of the places, lest the Romans should slip away. Cestius, despairing of an open route, attempted flight by stratagem.

He chose therefore forty men, into whom despair of escape had instilled contempt of death: these he stationed at the fortifications with orders that throughout the whole night, with the greatest din, they should keep up around the rampart the sounds of those performing sentry duty, lest the preparations of the departing army should become manifest to the Jews by any of the usual signs, by which those who are being thrown into confusion are wont to betray themselves: but all the rest were to go out in silence, the Jews suspecting nothing; who, hearing the customary noise of the watch, would think that all the Romans remained in the place: by this deception Cestius led out his army: and he had already covered thirty stadia, having used the loyalty of a few men in a doubtful matter, who, about to perish, preferred to grant thanks to their comrades by their own dangers rather than to lose them. And indeed night had concealed the trick, but day betrayed it.

For when, at the spreading of light, things were made plain, and the whole place in which the Romans had dwelt appeared empty; the Jews, making an assault, rushed first upon those by whose feigned duties they had been deceived, and having with little trouble destroyed the forty men, pursued the army, which had both covered a great distance by night, and by day pressed on its march more hastily, lest it should be involved in the dangers of night again. The road was full of baggage, which the fleeing Romans left behind, lest anyone should be delayed under an unjust burden: everywhere lay vessels, utensils, or even things necessary for war, catapults, battering-rams, and other engines brought for the destruction of the city, which the pursuing Jews passed by, lest there should be delay: on returning they gathered them up, to use them against those whose allies had abandoned them.

For, having followed as far as the city of Antipatris, after they found that the whole Roman army had passed beyond, and the hope of catching them had slipped away; they turned back their steps, and, seizing the spoils of the slain, returned to Jerusalem with triumph and hymns. So great was the joy that had fallen to them, that, with few of their own lost, five thousand foot-soldiers of the Roman army and three hundred horsemen were destroyed. This happened in the twelfth year of the reign of Nero, as we have mentioned above.

But that exultation was not shared by all the Jews. For there were some who, after that not battle but calamity of Cestius, longed to snatch themselves away as though from the supreme peril of a sinking ship, and to swim out from the shipwreck of the city, foremost among them Custobarus and Saulus his brother, together with Philip, commander of the forces of King Agrippa: these, fleeing, betook themselves to Cestius, asking to be sent on to Nero in Achaia. Cestius willingly received this, nor did he refuse their request, so that through them Caesar might be informed that the cause of the war was Florus; that upon himself had fallen chiefly the necessity of war, since his army had been surrounded by an unexpected multitude of conspirators: which army he had rescued from danger by the counsel of its commander, rather than entangled it further. That Cestius had tried to soothe the hatreds stirred up against Florus, but had not been able. And so the war had befallen him, not been brought on by him.

For these were the instructions given, that, by stirring up all Caesar's indignation against Florus, he might hope to lessen Caesar's displeasure against himself, which he greatly feared because of his own guilty conscience over the mismanaged affair. So greatly, moreover, were many of the Romans terrified by the disaster of the army, that the Damascenes, fearing the contagion of a suspected alliance because of their shared dwelling, killed the Jews gathered in the gymnasium who dwelt with them in the city: which thing they had long since procured, either by suspicion or by treachery, so that the Jews might be segregated from the gatherings of the gentiles, lest they should attempt anything by night, or that they might lie open alone to exile. This indeed was done with the utmost mystery of silence, so that the attempt of this kind did not even reach the knowledge of their own wives. Since these too, for the greatest part, were mingled in the worship of the Jews.

And so, setting upon them all in a narrow place, they destroyed ten thousand of the Jews. This was easy, since being caught unarmed by armed men, they perished. And indeed a recent example of this savagery had gone even further at Scythopolis, by which I suppose the Damascenes had been incited. For when the Jews were ravaging all the neighboring regions, they came to Scythopolis, and there, attempting to test the Jews dwelling in it, they found as adversaries those whom they had reckoned faithful to them, since, by the common bent of human nature, concern for safety outweighed among them the ties of kinship: so, taking their stand with the townsmen, they preferred the fellowship of their fellow-inhabitants, and threatened destruction to their own kinsmen.

This roused the suspicion of the gentiles, because the execution of hatreds against their own people was put forward with too ready zeal: lest, under the appearance of pretense, treachery should be contrived, and they should attack the city by night against its less wary inhabitants, and, having laid low all the gentiles, reconcile themselves in favor with the Jews: and for this reason, if they wished to prove their loyalty also toward the gentiles, they should withdraw from the city with their whole household, and seek the neighboring grove. This being done, the Scythopolitans rested quiet for two days, so that this part of the Jews might lay aside suspicion and put on a sense of security. On the third night, when confidence, now presumed, had removed anxiety from the gentiles, violence was inflicted upon them, unwary and sleeping, and thirteen thousand men were slain: whatever they had, too, was plundered.

The bitter suffering of Simon demands exposition, pitiable to see and to hear, but memorable for the novelty of the thing. He was among the people of the Jews, born of a father Saul of no mean rank, endowed with boldness of spirit and strength of body. Both of these qualities he exercised to the destruction of his own countrymen, having slain very many of the people by frequent incursions of foreign Jews: and if by chance a conspiring band was present, he alone would sustain the battle line, and, gathering his men together, he was accustomed to turn them back, being the whole knot and delay of the war: and often, when things seemed desperate, the turning-point. The Scythopolitan inhabitants had already displayed to their fellow citizens their soldiery against their own kin: but the vengeance owed to kindred blood was not lacking much longer.

For when good faith was broken, and the Scythopolitans, who by agreement had betaken themselves to the grove, were surrounded, they began to press on with war and to bear down upon them. Even the sons and parents of Simon, the rest of the multitude having been destroyed, they assailed from a distance with missiles and darts. Simon, seeing that the innumerable multitude was easily superior, since he could no longer endure it, drew his sword, and turning against the enemy cried out, saying: I receive what is worthy of the deeds of the Scythopolitans, I who bore witness by benevolence to the slaughter of my kinsmen which I would have wrought upon you, and gave you the blood of my brothers as a pledge of favor, to whom perfidy would more justly be attributed. Now, while I keep faith with foreigners, I have lost it with my own household: I have betrayed my children and parents also, whom you nevertheless ought to have killed, if you reckoned it a reward for crime.

Therefore let me die, if, angry with all, friend to none, I who have surrounded my own kin, let me first exact vengeance upon myself with my own hands: I have destroyed my companions in religion and partners in faith: I acknowledge the debt of my crime. I will pay a parricide worthy of so great a sacrilege, that it may be both a penalty for the crime and a glory unto virtue: lest anyone else boast of my wound, my own right hand will afterward be turned against myself: so that it may seem that I die of fury, not of weakness: lest anyone insult me as I fall, let clemency be the avenger of parricide, and parricide the avenger of sacrilege. Having said this, he turned his gaze upon his children and parents; and with indignant eyes, when now mercy mingled with wrath came upon him, he snatched his father from the midst and ran him through with the sword: after him his mother was drawn forward, lest there be anyone to intervene for the grandchildren.

His wife offered herself in turn, willing not to survive so great a husband once cast down. His sons rushed forward, lest in death itself they be judged degenerate from so great a father. He himself hastened with a swift blow to forestall the enemy. And so, his whole household destroyed, he stood in the midst of his own dead. And as though triumphing over domestic sufferings, because he saw none of his own perish by another's sword, he raised his right hand, that all might see, and subjecting to himself a death dreadful to all, victorious, he transfixed himself with his own blade. A youth memorable for outstanding bodily strength and greatness of soul: but because he showed faith to foreigners rather than to his own, he was worthy of such an end.

After these things were reported to Nero, who was situated in the regions of Achaia, where he was striving, by the practice of tragic songs, to bring back the scenic crown from among many contestants: one knows not in which he was more base, whether that the emperor came forth upon the stage, or that he filled the stage with his own crimes, he who by singing debased Orestes, and represented parricide, when a grave fear invaded him.

Fearing not things like games, but the utmost extremities of war, so that at length he might come to his senses from the obscenity of theatrical pleasures and the fury of parricidal madness, and, turned to the cares of the state, might within himself rage and rave, that the Roman republic had suffered so great a disaster through the negligence of its leader rather than through the valor of its adversaries. He indeed attempted to feign boldness, but fear refuted it, and he sought, as it were, to put on the appearance of magnanimity, so as to have a mind above the trouble of affairs. But he was distracted by anxiety of soul as to whom he should choose as leader to remove the disgrace and to finish the war. The impending destruction of Judaea in its last stages of ruin urged Nero to put on the person of a king, and by the voice of a provident counselor to express a salutary opinion.

It was said that Vespasian alone was the man to whom the supreme command in the eastern parts might rightly be entrusted, a man grown old from adolescence in the triumphal service of war, who had settled by long peace the unruly Gauls, fallen back into war through the tumult of the Germans and the ferocity of their inborn rashness. He had also, by arms, acquired for the Roman empire Britain, still lying hidden amid the waves; by the triumph over which Rome was reckoned richer, Claudius wiser, Nero braver. And so the peoples whose wars they had not seen, they had celebrated the trophies of their subjugation. Under this leader (I say again) Nero was terrible, Nero was to be feared, powerful abroad, safe at home: Vespasian's fidelity and courage being equally balanced with each other. How great was this man, by whose arms the vices of Nero were hidden from foreign nations, so that the mockery of human affairs, and the reproach of a forsworn impurity, might also be made illustrious by triumphs!

Since, then, war had to be waged on the farthest borders of the Roman world, Vespasian was chosen from among all. When war had been laid aside, Vespasian was associated before the rest, lest either a public enemy remain, or a domestic plotter creep in unnoticed. Worthy was he, by the pay of a soldier, to forestall a kingdom. He taught fidelity, he showed forth valor. Unwillingly did Nero send this man, who was taking away his own protection: but he was constrained by the future punishments of his own crimes, so as to leave himself unarmed, separated from so great a companion of a leader. Never indeed would Galba have dared to aspire to empire, had he not learned that Vespasian was absent. But God so ordained this, that a man should be directed into Syria who would both shake the insolence of the Jews by the final destruction of the nation and the disgrace of captivity, and would deprive Nero of aid: although the virtue of no man can bring any hindrance to the decrees of heaven.

Yet Nero, out of madness, when he had learned that the strong force of the Roman army had been afflicted by the war of the Jews, rose up against the Christians, so that his own due end might draw near.

There were at that time in Rome Peter and Paul, teachers of the Christians, exalted in works, renowned for teaching, who by the virtue of their own works had made Nero hostile, he being captivated by the blandishments of Simon the Magus, who had won over his mind to himself. To him he promised, by baneful arts, aid to victory, subjection of nations, length of life, the safeguarding of his health, and he believed it, he who knew not how to examine the force of things. In fine, he held with him the highest place of friendship: since indeed he considered him even the guardian and protector of his health and life. But when Peter exposed his vanities and crimes, and showed that he lied in outward appearances of things, and effected nothing solid or true; he was held up to derision, and was consumed with fitting grief. And although in other parts of the earth he had experienced the power of Peter: yet, arriving in Rome ahead of him, he dared to boast that he could raise the dead.

There had died at that time in Rome a noble youth, a kinsman of Caesar, amid the grief of all. Many urged that it be tried whether he could be raised. Peter was held most renowned in such works: but among the gentiles no credit was given to any deed of this kind. Grief demanded a remedy: they went to Peter. There were those who thought Simon also should be summoned; both were present. Peter said: let Simon, who boasted of his own power, give the first part; that if he could, let him raise the dead man. If he did not raise him, Peter would not fail, that Christ might bring aid to the dead man, that he might be able to rise.

Simon, who thought that in the city of the gentiles his arts would prevail the most, proposed a condition: that if he himself should raise the dead man, Peter should be killed, who by challenging The great power (for so he was called) had done him injury; but if Peter should prevail over Simon, he should be avenged in like manner. Peter agreed; Simon set to work, approached the bed of the dead man: as he began to chant and murmur his dire incantations, the one who was dead seemed to move his head. There was a great outcry among the gentiles, that now he lived, that he spoke with Simon. There was anger and indignation against Peter, that he had dared to match himself against so great a power. The holy Apostle asked for silence, and said: If the dead man lives, let him speak: if he has been raised, let him rise, walk, converse: that which seems to have moved its head is a phantasm, not the truth.

Let Simon, he said, then be separated from the bed; and then not even that will be shown. Simon is led away from the bed: the dead man remains without any appearance of motion whatsoever. Peter stood a little apart, and being intent for a little while within himself in prayer, said with a loud voice: Young man, arise: may the Lord Jesus heal you. And immediately the youth arose, and spoke, and walked, and took food, and Peter gave him to his mother. When he was asked not to depart from her, he said: He will not be forsaken by him who caused him to rise, whose servants we are. Be at ease, mother, concerning your son, fear not, he has his guardian. And when the people rose up against Simon to stone him, Peter said: It is enough for his punishment, that he knows his arts avail nothing: let him live, and see the kingdom of Christ grow, even against his will. The Magus was tormented by the glory of the Apostle.

He gathered himself together, and rousing all the power of his incantations, gathered the people, and said that he had been offended by the Galileans: that he would leave the city which he was accustomed to guard. He set a day: he promised a flight, by which he would be carried up to the abodes above; to whom, whenever he wished, heaven would lie open. On the appointed day he ascended the Capitoline hill, and casting himself from the rock, he began to fly. The people marveled and revered him: many saying that it was the power of God, not of man, that he should fly with his body, since Christ had done no such thing. Then Peter, standing in the midst, said: Lord Jesus, show him that his arts are vain, lest by this appearance this people, who are about to believe, be deceived. Let him fall, Lord; yet so that, while still living, he may recognize that he was able to do nothing.

And immediately at Peter's word, the oarage of the wings he had assumed being entangled, he fell headlong, nor was he killed outright; but with his leg broken and disabled, he withdrew to Aricia, and there he died. When this became known: Nero, deceived and abandoned, grieving over the fall of so great a friend, and indignant that a man useful and necessary to the state had been taken from him, began to seek causes by which he might kill Peter. And now the time was at hand when the holy Apostles Peter and Paul should be called. At length, when the order was given that they be seized, Peter was asked to betake himself elsewhere.

He resisted, saying that he would by no means do this, as though terrified by fear of death, and yield: that it was good to suffer for Christ, who had offered himself to death for all: that that would not be death, but immortality to come: as though it were unworthy that he himself should flee the suffering of his own body, he who by his teaching had compelled many to offer themselves as victims for Christ: that it was owed to him, according to the word of the Lord, that he too, in his own passion, should give glory and honor to Christ. These and other things Peter set forth: but the people, weeping and complaining, begged him not to leave them, and not to abandon them wavering amid the storms of the gentiles: overcome by their tears, Peter yielded: he promised that he would leave the city. On the following night, having greeted the brethren, and prayer having been made, he began to set out alone.

When he came to the gate, he saw Christ coming to meet him, and worshipping him, said: Lord, where are you going? Christ said to him: I come again to be crucified. Peter understood that this was said of his own passion, that in it Christ seemed about to suffer, who suffers in each one: not indeed by bodily pain, but by a certain compassion of mercy, or celebration of glory. And he turned back, and returned to the city; and being seized by his persecutors, condemned to the cross, he asked that he be affixed to the cross with his feet reversed, since he was unworthy to be crucified in the same manner as the Son of God suffered. This having been granted, whether because it was so owed, as Christ had foretold, or because a persecutor does not unwillingly grant an increase of punishments; both he and Paul were put to death, the one by the cross, the other by the sword.

But to return to our purpose: Nero, disturbed by the grave news, since affairs in Judea had gone less than prosperously, set Vespasian, a man experienced in war, over all the military forces that were in Syria. He speedily—for no time was given for delay—sent his son Titus to Alexandria, that from there he might lead a portion of the soldiers who were serving there, while he himself, having crossed the Hellespontic strait, hastened on foot into Syria. Meanwhile the Jews, elated by their favorable circumstances, chose leaders for the war. They distributed the places over which each should preside, what duties, what ranks, what tasks each should carry out: they set Josephus, born of Cutio, and Ananus, the chief priest, over the affairs of the city of Jerusalem, and especially over the restoring of the walls. Eleazar, son of Simon, burned with desire that some public office be entrusted to him.

And although he had brought under his own power all the plunder which they had taken from the Roman army—especially the rich and abundant spoil accumulated by the avarice and immoderate rapine of Cestius—yet, judging him more intent on acquiring power for himself than inclined to common usefulness, they thought he should be passed over. But by gradually courting individuals, by giving and lavishing gifts, he brought it about that the sum of all affairs was entrusted to his judgment. Idumea also was undertaken to be guarded by Jesus, one of the priests, and Eleazar, son of a priest, who were placed in command of the soldiery there. Yet to Niger, the chief of all Idumea, they reserved the entire prerogative over the highest matters. Jericho fell to Josephus son of Simon; the region of Petra, situated beyond the Euphrates, was committed to Manasseh—to whom the name was given from this, that the Euphrates is crossed by those journeying to that region.

John the Essene, and another John, son of Ananias, and the others were assigned to opposing factions, which they were to guard with their own diligence. And so each one, not neglecting the duties entrusted to him, set about fortifying the walls, gathering a fighting force: among them Josephus, descending into Galilee, took energetic care to fortify strongholds, restore ramparts, and enlist to himself all the strongest and most ready for war; to forbid brigandage, to review the troops daily in camp, to train the soldiery in the manner of Roman military discipline, to divide and distribute them into ranks, to appoint numerous centurions, so that discipline might more easily be exacted from all: so that no one who had abandoned his proper duties might go unnoticed.

He also instructed them to recognize the sounding and the silencing of the trumpets, to follow order, to form battle-line, to interlock their shields, so that, in the manner of a wall, if by chance a great force of the enemy should assail them, they might defend themselves against those attacking, come to the aid of those struggling, have compassion on the weary, take upon themselves the dangers of others; and not only to teach the arts of war after the manner of Roman military practice, but also, before battle, to announce to those who would more effectively assist in the fighting, that the soldier should carry his own food and arms, fortify himself with rampart and ditch, and anticipate the enemy in pitching camp, obey commands, grow accustomed to abstain from theft and plunder, and count it his own gain if no loss were inflicted upon the rural cultivators. For how does he differ from the enemy, if he himself carries off in the manner of an enemy?

Unless it is more grievous to assail one's own than another's, and to plunder allies rather than adversaries. He taught that a good conscience is of the greatest worth in war, because the man who recognized himself as guilty of no crime might presume the more upon divine aid. But by these very things he found that he had sooner incurred the hatred of the wicked than gained the favor of the good. For when he had gathered about sixty thousand foot soldiers, very few horsemen, and those who served for pay in war to the number of four thousand men, and also six hundred chosen guards of his own body, he endured such things from the Jews that he dreaded more the dangers from his own people before the war than those from the Romans in the war itself.

I pass over what sedition was stirred up: because he was suspected of restoring to those who had lost it what had been seized by brigandage; and especially in the case of Agrippa and Berenice, to whom it ought justly to have been restored, lest they make the king more favorably disposed. And yet he, in order to soften the impulse of the people, said that the money was being kept rather for the building of the walls than for the indemnity of the owners preserved; and that all the things, he said, which had been taken from Ptolemy, who had been carrying royal gold, garments, and other gifts, ought to be appraised by the men of Tarichea: for it was among them that the matter was being handled, whether they thought it should be kept for the restoration of their own walls, or should be given out to be plundered by robbers. It seemed indeed unworthy that he should incur punishment for this, because he had taken the better counsel.

And so, having turned their ill-will into favor toward himself, he escaped both hatred and danger at once. Again, when Tiberias sought the favor and alliance of King Agrippa, Josephus, hastening from the aforementioned city, shut the gates of Tarichea, lest any messenger should go to the city of Tiberias and signal that Josephus lacked military aid. He himself gathered from the lake such fishing vessels as he could find in the time available, and made for Tiberias by oar. But when he came to that place from which the appearance of the vessels, though conspicuous, positioned before the city, could not be discerned as to whether they were empty of fighting men, he ordered them to be scattered over the whole expanse of the lake, so that a greater number might be reckoned; lest anyone should judge them empty rather than filled with warriors.

Terrified by this, since they reckoned themselves too weak against so great a multitude, they threw down their arms, and, the gates having been unbarred, poured themselves out as suppliants to Josephus, who, like the leader of a military column, had drawn nearer. He asked by what madness they had conceived a change of heart, by what instigators they had been driven to be on the point of surrendering themselves to the adversaries; and at the same time, meeting them, he ordered the pilots to bring them to Tarichea, and there he seized nearly three hundred of the council members, and cast many of the common people into chains. He also summoned Clytus, the chief of that crime, and ordered him to pay the penalty by the amputation of his hands; and when he begged that at least one hand be left to him, Josephus ordered that he himself remove whichever he wished. Then Clytus, seizing the sword in his right hand, cut off his left. Thus Tiberias was recovered.

But Sepphoris also, having attempted a defection, was nevertheless kept among the allied cities of the Jews by the vigor of Josephus. For he preferred to defend his own possessions by calmer counsels rather than to invade the possessions of others.

But indeed Niger of Perea, and Syllas the Babylonian, and John the Essene, gathering together all the vigorous youth that was in Judea, made for Ascalon, a city indeed large and supported by strong walls, but lacking resources and aid, which was separated from the city of Jerusalem by seven hundred twenty stades, and by immense hatred. Therefore the Jews, desiring to destroy a city hostile to them, flew upon it with a gathered force. Antonius was in command of the city, with a smaller number of the Roman army than seemed sufficient to withstand the Jews.

But being a man of keener spirit, and an equally prudent warrior, he allowed the scattered enemy, trusting more in numbers than in valor, to cross toward the city; then, as they advanced in their charge, he wore down those following, scattered those who were massed together, put to flight those thrown into confusion, and pursued the stragglers over the whole field; some in turn were driven back to the walls, their means of flight cut off, others sought different directions, but, surrounded by the cavalry, were cut down. Many fell upon one another, and struck one another down by their own onrush; and so, cut down until evening, they lost ten thousand of their men, with John and Syllas, their leaders, likewise slain. But few of the Romans were wounded in that battle: nor yet was the rashness of the Jews checked, but rather inflamed: for grief kindled boldness, and disaster the desire for vengeance.

And so they armed themselves with far greater fury, and before the wounds of the injured had even healed, having gathered more men than the time before, they charged again: but Antonius, having disposed ambushes, caught them before they could come to close quarters, and hemmed them in with cavalry poured around them, and ordered them, thus surrounded, to be laid low: again nine thousand were slain, the rest put to flight. Niger himself, having escaped, betook himself to a fortification. There was a tower hedged about on every side with strong stone, which the Romans, since they could not cut it down, surrounded with fires set close by. When it was set ablaze, he passed from the tower into a certain cave, and there hid from the enemy, and escaped the fire: and the Romans, believing that he too had been consumed together with it in the fire, when after the third day his men sought his body for burial, found him restored to them alive and vigorous.

And so, to the great joy of the Jews, he was preserved, and presented back from among the enemy.

Vespasian meanwhile, having crossed the Hellespont, passing through Bithynia and Cilicia, when he reached Syria, led down to Antioch the legions and the other military forces which he found there. That city is, without dispute, the first of Syria: and therefore is held to be its metropolis: founded by those who had adhered to Alexander the Great in his warfare, and named by the appellation of its founder. The site of the city stretches out to an immense length: it is narrower on high, because it is confined on the left by the sheer face of the mountain, so that the spaces for laying out the city could not be extended further.

Necessity marked out the place, because, since the Parthians might break in through hidden and out-of-the-way paths, the higher mountain would give them a hiding place, from which they might, by unexpected arrival and readier assault, pour themselves upon an unprepared Syria: unless a city lay like a barrier before the mountain, and blocked the ways of exit to those approaching: so that if any of the barbarians should climb up, he would at once be seen from the very midst of the city. Indeed, when theatrical games were being celebrated in that city, they say that a certain author of mimes, lifting his eyes to the mountain, saw the Persians approaching, and said at once: "Either I see a dream, or a great danger: Behold, the Persians!" So does the mountain stand out prominently, that not even the height of the theater is an impediment to seeing it.

A river cuts through the middle of it, which, rising from the east, is not far from the city received into the sea: this the ancients called Orontes from the course of its origin, so that it is commonly supposed to have given its name to the places, whereas it received it from them. By its waters, cold from their own current, and by the west winds constantly blowing through those regions, almost the whole city is refreshed at nearly every moment, so that in the regions of the East it hides the East. Within, there are sweet waters; without, there is a neighboring grove interwoven with dense cypresses, and springs abundant with waters—they call it Daphne, because it never lays aside its greenness: a populous and rather joyful people, as is generally the case in the East, and wittier than almost all others, but more given to wantonness.

The city was formerly reckoned third among all the cities that are in the Roman world, now fourth, since the city of Constantinople, of the Byzantines, has grown—once the capital of the Persians, now of those who repelled them: for Rome is first, Alexandria second, Antioch third, Constantinople fourth. I think enough has been said about the site of the city. For it does not seem necessary to linger over describing its buildings, since, when I have said that to its rear lies the east, it is clear enough that to the left it lies toward the south, that to its front Europe meets it, that on its right the northern peoples dwell, and the Caspian kingdoms are held, which were formerly most ready to overrun Syria. But after Alexander the Great set the Caspian Gate upon the sheer face of Mount Taurus, and shut off every way of approach for the interior peoples, he rendered the aforesaid city untroubled, except perhaps when it suspected movements from the Persians.

In that city King Agrippa, with all his forces, was awaiting the arrival of Vespasian, and, without further delay on his part, joined his retinue: and, their journey united, they began to make for Ptolemais. To that city came the inhabitants of Sepphoris, requesting that the peace already made long before with Cestius Gallus be confirmed by Vespasian. Their prudence was praised, in that they had taken counsel for their own safety by not provoking the Romans, and, their pledge accepted, he both received them into friendship, and, adding auxiliaries of foot and horse, fostered their security, lest perchance, moved by the grief of abandonment, those who stirred up the war might rise up against them: since, when the Sepphorites offered themselves to the Roman empire, a certain barrier of Judea, as it were, was loosened, so that an open way lay to the enemy into that region which, by its opportune position facing the enemy, served for the guard of the whole nation.

For, beyond expectation, it was the greatest city of Galilee in point of the strength of its site: which fact reminds us that, since there are two Galilees, one upper, the other lower, joined and connected with each other, we should distinguish the one from the other. But first something must be said of each.

Both parts of Galilee border on Syria and Phoenicia, and are bounded on the west by the territory of Ptolemais and by Mount Carmel, which formerly belonged to the Galileans, but is now joined to the borders of the Tyrians; to which is attached the city of Gabaa, which was once the cause of grievous ruin for the Jews: on the east, Hippene and Gadara cut it off with their own boundaries. The same limits, from ancient times, were also prescribed for the region of Gaulanitis and the kingdom of Agrippa: on the southern side, Scythopolis and Samaria are each marked off by their own territories, and are not allowed to extend beyond the streams of the Jordan. Its northern parts, on the right side, Tyre encloses, and the whole region of the Tyrians, by whose facing boundary the extent of Galilee is defined.

Now the two parts are distinguished from one another in this way: what is called Lower Galilee spreads out lengthwise from the city of Tiberias to the city named Zabulon, extending above the maritime region of Ptolemais; its breadth, without doubt, runs from the village of Zaloth, which is in the great plain, to Bersabe. From there also begins the extent of Upper Galilee, until it reaches the borders of the village Bathata. By this very village also the boundaries of the land of Tyre are marked out: the beginning of its length is the village Thalla, and its end is Rothala, bordering on the Jordan. From this it may be understood how far the extent of Upper Galilee stretches, whose beginning is the Jordan or its borders. By this reckoning of its size, then, each Galilee is distinguished. The land is rich, grassy, adorned with various kinds of cultivation, set off with trees, so that it entices anyone to love it, and invites and rouses even one who shuns labor to the pursuits of husbandry.

In short, no portion of land there lies vacant, however small: it is thickly inhabited by very many people: cities are frequent, villages numerous, the multitude of men innumerable, so that even a small village has in its district twenty thousand inhabitants. Both parts of Galilee are also surrounded by foreign nations round about, and therefore the race of men there is warlike, trained from earliest age in trials of battle, abundant in numbers, ready in daring, and prepared for every art of war. Yet the region of Petraea surpasses it in size, from which it took its name, as we said above. This is greater; but Galilee is more useful, because it is entirely cultivated, nor is any part of it barren of fruits: but its whole land is rich and fertile. Petraea, however, is more extensive, but for the greater part deserted and harsh, unable to be tamed by ploughing, nor easily made to yield its harsher juices.

But again a portion of it is soft for cultivation, fertile for use, pleasant to look upon, gentle for tilling, suited for grafted fruits, bearing all things, so that trees set in order fringe its fields at the front, and adorn them in the middle: and for the most part protect the crops from excessive sun or cold; and the land is especially clothed with olive trees, or interwoven with vines, or marked with palms. It is beyond telling how great a beauty it is, when the rows of palms, struck by the wind, rustle together, and sweeter than usual scents of dates are poured forth. Nor is it any wonder if all the charm of greenness is there, where the field, watered by the pleasant courses of rivers running down from the higher ridge of the mountains, and overflowed, is possessed—gushing with snowy springs—an object of envy, and longed for with delight. Its length runs from Macherus to Pella, that is, from the southern side to the north.

Its breadth, however, extends from Philadelphia to the river Jordan, that is, from the sunrise to the borders of Arabia. Toward the west, it is shown to extend as far as the city by the river Jordan: the region of Samaria also lies between Judea and Galilee, beginning from the village called Elas, and ending in the land of the Acrabatenes, of a like nature, and differing in no way from Judea. For both are mountainous and level, according to the diversity of the places; neither is wholly spread out in plains, nor is it everywhere cut by rocky mountains; but it has the charm of both qualities, its soil loose and softer for the practice of cultivation, and therefore good for grain, and nearly unsurpassed in fertility of soil by any other, and certainly first of all in the ripening of its fruits. For while grain is still being sown elsewhere, here it is being reaped. The very appearance and nature of the grain itself is nowhere considered more excellent.

The water is sweet, pleasing to look at, delightful to drink, so that, in keeping with the charm of these elements, the Jews reckoned that land, promised to the fathers, to be flowing with milk and honey, since it pledged to them the privilege of resurrection. And indeed divine goodness had granted both, if they had kept faith: but from unbelieving souls both were taken away: the one by the yoke of captivity, the other by the bond of sin. The region is wooded, and therefore rich in cattle, and abounding in milk. In short, nowhere else does cattle bear udders so distended with milk. Wild and grafted fruits surpass the abundance of all other regions. Both Judea and Samaria, moreover, are filled with a multitude of men, so that it seems to me the Jews interpreted from this that which is written, that in these places there shall be none barren and unfruitful, since the law prescribed this concerning the fruitfulness of merits, and the fertility of virtues.

The beginning of Samaria is from the borders of Arabia, at the village called Jordan, its northern end at the village Borceus; the breadth of Judea runs from the river Jordan to Joppa. For it begins at the sources of the Jordan and at Mount Lebanon, and extends as far as the Lake of Tiberias. Its length begins from the village Artha, and extends to the village called Juliad, in which Jews and Tyrians alike have a common dwelling. In the middle of Judea is the city of Jerusalem, called, as it has pleased wise men, as it were the navel of the whole region: a region abounding in inland riches, nor lacking in maritime ones, since it stretches as far as Ptolemais, and borders that whole sea with its shores. There are many cities, but among them all Jerusalem stands out: so that, like a head in a body, it does not overshadow its members, but rules them, and is to them both a protection and an adornment.

Concerning Judea, therefore, and the neighboring regions, though in a fitting compendium, we have not omitted what needed to be pointed out.

The people of Sepphoris also raided the neighboring regions both for tribute and for military supplies, claiming for themselves under the guise of war a free license to plunder, on the pretext that this was being levied by the Jews against Roman rule. Whereupon Josephus, eager to avenge the bitterness of the injury received, strove to fall upon the city of Sepphoris, having joined to himself a very great number of men, so that he might either recall them into alliance with Judea, or, if they resisted, bring them down (if possible) to utter destruction. But the effort in both respects failed: for he could neither dissuade them from their choice of alliance with Rome, nor overthrow the city, which he himself had strengthened with such fortifications that it could not be taken even by the far superior Romans. He therefore sounded the trumpet, having attempted an assault without any success, and stirred up war throughout the whole region.

They laid waste everything, burning buildings by day and night, plundering possessions, killing whomever they seized who were fit for war, subjecting the weak to slavery. All Galilee was filled with burning, bloodshed, and brigandage, exempt from no misery, and from the hideous appearance of all things; since whatever survived fire or slaughter was reserved for captivity. Compared to this evil, those things which shortly before had been reckoned more bitter were now preferred.

This was a certain prelude of the war, made before Titus came: who, as soon as he had crossed from Achaia to Alexandria, and had brought the soldiers according to his father's order, met him at the city of Ptolemais, and there, having joined together the fifteenth and tenth legions—and adding also the fifteenth, which were most excellent—and having gathered together the army both of Rome and of the allies, they began a fierce and memorable war. For when, after prosperous beginnings under a peaceable general, matters turned to worse fortunes, Vespasian, more incensed, set out with his son from the borders of Ptolemais, and plunged into Galilee. And having learned that they refused peace, though he had offered them the opportunity of condemning their dissension, if they thought it well to take counsel for themselves, he utterly destroyed Gadara, finding it empty of warriors, because all the stronger men, distrusting its weaker fortifications, had betaken themselves to more strongly fortified places.

Those he found, therefore, he did not spare, but ordered all to be killed, with no regard for age, no mercy for weakness—something he pursued not so much by the right of war, as out of grief for the battle with Cestius, and hatred poured out against the Jews. Finally, he ordered not only the city, but also the villages and towns to be burned. Nor was his indignation unjust: because after such great insolence he had given them the opportunity to correct their error, and it had not been heeded. Josephus had passed from that city into Tiberias before the Roman army drew near: but there was more fear arising from his flight than confidence from his presence: for by this very fact men were terrified, that Josephus himself judged himself unequal to waging war against the Romans. Nor indeed did he presume otherwise, except perhaps that the Jews might lay down their zeal for war.

This had been his earlier opinion: that if they should choose war, he would rather, by undergoing the danger, keep faith with his fellow-citizens, than, by avoiding it, prove a traitor. For he took care of nothing more than that the very honor of military command entrusted to him should not be disgraced. He therefore wrote to the city of Jerusalem that war was pressing upon them, and that they should write back quickly whether they preferred peace or battle: it was to be deliberated maturely. This he indicated briefly, favoring neither side, lest he be judged either a timid warrior, or a stubborn rebel.

Again from the city of Tiberias he made for Jotapata, either because it was more fortified than the rest, and for that reason very many of the more war-ready had betaken themselves there: or because Vespasian had sent many of his own men there to make the way passable, since through the mountains it was difficult and rocky, harsh for infantry, and for cavalry impassable and insurmountable. Finally, over four days, so that the narrow passages might not hinder them, the paths of the roads were laid open: a way was prepared, by which the whole army might more easily be brought across. On the fifth day Josephus passed over there, and raised up the downcast spirits of the Jews. When it was reported to Vespasian that Josephus had gone there, an added spur to hasten his march came to him, since he thought it a shortcut to finishing the war, if the leader and the more warlike part of the people should be intercepted.

He came, therefore, with his army: and on the first day he gave time for feeding the soldiers, lest the care of war should assail men wearied from the march. On the following day he encircled the city with a double line of troops, and on the third with a line of cavalry. Seeing this, the Jews, understanding themselves shut in and besieged on every side, with no place of refuge, took up boldness out of very desperation. For nothing renders a soldier more ready for war than the necessity of fighting, and imminent danger. Vespasian pressed them with javelins, pressed them with arrows; and many of the Jews too, advancing beyond the walls, wounded with well-aimed missiles: yet they remained undaunted. Roman valor tried everything; and especially where it had noticed weaker supports of the walls, there it pressed with a greater force: shame armed some, the last hope armed others, desiring to open for themselves by the sword a way of safety. The Jews endured heavy things, and returned no less trials of daring.

Skill contended with valor on the Roman side, fury with rashness on the Jewish side. When both sides were wearied, fighting all day—these for safety, those for triumph—night broke off the battle. On the following day likewise, and on the third and fourth, in like manner, and on the fifth there was fierce fighting: but as is wont to happen in such battles, more wounds than deaths were inflicted, though often both sallies were attempted by the Jews and sorties by the Romans: whom shame kindled to anger, that the conquerors of Hannibal and Antiochus and of all nations should be delayed by battles with the Jews. So great was the steadfastness of Roman valor, that the losing side was not quickly reckoned as conquered: but their struggles were rather against nature than against the enemy.

For the city was nearly enclosed on all sides by sheer rocks, not by rampart and ditch, as other cities are, but was surrounded by deep precipices, which neither the sight of men could take in, nor practice explore, and dread, ever watchful, wrapped the beholder more and more. Only from the north, at a break in the mountain, was there one approach to the city, open however only by a steep ascent. This Josephus closed off with a wall, and hedged with defenders, so that between the lower wall and the upper city, any sally would be perilous for the besiegers, and the view of the higher parts would be, for anyone beholding it, beyond estimation. For the city itself, set upon the brow of a mountain, was surrounded on all sides by the neighboring mountains as by a kind of natural rampart, hidden within its own enclosing barrier, so that no one would realize a city was there before he had actually entered into the city itself.

Vespasian, since he could not conquer nature, called it to his own aid, so that through a long siege, by want of food and drink, he might compel the besieged to surrender: but a supply of grain, gathered together long before, warded off the danger of famine. There was the greatest difficulty of water, since there was no spring in the city, and a persistent drought, with rain scarce in those parts, had diminished the resource for drinking. He had blocked all the water conduits, so that they should not flow into the city. Want increased their thirst, nature resisted. Josephus devised a stratagem, that soaked garments should be hung upon the wall, so that, as the water gradually trickled down, it might be believed that they lacked nothing for drinking, since they had abundance for washing their garments.

Vespasian, cast down by this, is once again kindled to storm the city, and gathers his whole army round about it: he shakes the wall with engines, the battering-ram strikes it. Its appearance gave it this name, in that the head of a strong and knotty tree is clothed with iron, and because, as the forehead of a ram is set forth, which swells and juts out under overlaid plates of metal: from the middle of it there projects, as it were, a horn of harder iron. The size of the tree is like the mast of a ship, which neither the blast of the winds nor the bellying of the sails could bend. This, hung by ropes bound to the topmost and stoutest parts of the beams, was driven with vigorous force by the hands of many against the wall.

Then, drawn back and, after the manner of a scale-beam, held in balance by restraining ropes, it was aimed with greater force, so that the side of the wall, wearied by frequent blows, might give way, and, hollowed out by the violence of the breaches, might afford a window through which a way might lie open for the Roman enemy into the interior of the city. At the first blow, therefore, the wall was shaken, and trembled throughout. Immediately there arose the outcry of all, as if trembling at the city already stormed, lest the wall, struck again, should crack apart. But Josephus ordered sacks filled with chaff to be let down into that place against which the ram was being driven by the Romans, so that every blow of the ram, mocked by the loose folds of the sacks, might be softened. For solid things striking solid things do harm, but are spent against looser things. In short, solid things more easily yield to softer things, than soft things to solid ones.

For by the flooding of water rocks are dissolved, yet the ruin of the cliff brings no harm to the waters; and when breakwaters are thrown into the straits, the water keeps its own uses, but the rock amid the waves knows not how to keep its own. Sand also is not broken by the crumbling of marble, but marble is ground down by the crumbling of sand. Nevertheless the Romans, too, in order to refute the devices of the Jews, brought forward hooks tied opposite, by which they might catch the sacks as they were let down, so that, the chaff being emptied out, the Jews could not avoid the blow of the ram. So when the machine's thrust was renewed, and the Jews saw themselves being pressed hard, one of them, Eleazar, lifting up a stone of huge size, hurled it down from the wall upon the ram with such force that he shattered the head of the engine.

Leaping out also into the midst of the enemy, he snatched it up, and carried it fearlessly toward the wall in the sight of his adversaries, exposed to wounds. At last he is pierced by five javelins, but was in no way turned aside to attend to his wounds, intent only on how he himself might overwhelm the enemy with the fall of the stone. He climbed the wall, therefore, and, victor over pain, stood conspicuous in so great a feat of daring, and cast himself down upon the ram and the stone, and fell together with it. Conquered indeed by death, but victor over the engine, since alone he departed from his country in himself; but in the shattering of the engine he preserved the whole city from destruction. Netyras also and Philip threw themselves into the midst of the column, to turn aside those whom they had attacked. Josephus meanwhile, having driven fires to burn all the engines, in a short time consumed very many, but what was consumed was repaired.

Vespasian pressed on, urging so hard, that he was struck in the ankle by an arrow's dart. The Romans were thrown into confusion, when they saw the blood of their leader flowing. His son, greatly disturbed, ran to his father. But he, bearing a strength of spirit above the force of the wound, forbids his son to tremble, and rather kindles the soldiers the more to battle, that they might avenge the injury done to their leader. He himself, standard-bearer, called back the army, and drove it toward the walls. He himself exhorted the rest to war; some pressed the enemy with arrows, some with spears, some with ballistas.

So great, moreover, was the force of this engine by which stones were hurled against the enemy, that one of Joseph's companions, standing nearby, was struck and fell with his head shattered, and the back of his skull was flung as far as the third stade away: a woman also, heavy with child, was struck in the womb, and the infant was thrown out from the innermost seat of her hidden womb more than half a stade away. At last, when the Roman soldier, now victorious, was climbing the wall, and on both sides at the very entrance a strong force fought hand to hand: while thus engaged, Josephus ordered boiling oil to be poured upon the Romans, which easily flowed down from head to foot over their whole persons. And the heat of the oil devoured every limb no less than a burning flame. Yet others kept coming up, though for many a copious sweat cooled the force of the oil.

And although it is the nature of this kind of oil to grow hot quickly, and to lay aside slowly the heat once received, still, in their zeal for victory, they concealed the injury. They burned in spirit, so that they felt no burning of the body, and reckoned the pain of the scalding punishment as nothing compared to the loss of glory, if they, who had been leaders in dangers, should now cease from war as if excluded from triumphs. So they strove even to quench the fire of the oil with their own blood.

By this delay of the siege, the people of the neighboring city of Japha also had grown insolent, since the matter had long been in dispute. Whereupon Vespasian, moved by this, dispatched Trajan, who was in command of the fifteenth cohort, with the office of leader, with a thousand horsemen and two thousand men of the foot-soldiery. He, setting out without hesitation, a man keen and skilled in the arts of warfare, found the outcome of the war corresponding to his own efforts. For since the city was fortified both by the nature of its site and was surrounded by a double wall, its people, not content to shelter themselves behind their fortifications, thought they should go out to meet the Romans: but having dared to resist for a little while, wishing to withdraw within the outer wall, they equally received the enemy along with themselves. For as they hastened in, the Romans likewise entered with them; and when they fled also to the inner wall, the gates were shut, lest the Romans should equally break in again.

Thus, with God's help turned away from them, the Jews fought with the very weapon by which they had formerly been wont to conquer; but they had offended by wicked crimes, and therefore the due penalty was demanded of them, that their punishments might be granted as an example to the nations. In short, more were crushed nearly in wars among themselves than by the enemy. An example of this is the people of Japha, who opened their gates to the Romans, and closed them against themselves. For as soon as the Romans broke through the first wall, they themselves had opened it: that the Jews might not penetrate the second wall, the Jews themselves closed it. Thus the enemy was received, the ally shut out. That one was received, that the executioner might not be absent: this one was shut out, that he might not entirely escape. Between the two walls, therefore, the Jews were being cut down, hand to hand from near, and from the wall at a distance.

For many of the Roman soldiery, hemmed in by the narrow space, climbed the wall, and from there hurled darts upon those below. Thus the Galileans, more hostile to their own people than to the enemy, begged to be received into the vestibule of the inner wall, but their own people resisted them. The fight went on at the threshold of the gate, the Jews fighting among themselves: these received the rushing wedge with swords; those, resisting, were dying. Cursing savage things upon each other in turn, with their last words they called to witness that they were suffering less than their deserts. Thus there were slain there two thousand men, all of them combatants. And Trajan, reckoning either that none would now resist him, or that the storming of the city would be easy, a man of the old discipline, reserved the crowning victory for Vespasian, and sent to him, asking that he send his son Titus, to put an end to the battle.

When he arrived, an assault was made, and many mortals were slain, and not without labor and danger did victory fall to the Romans. When they had entered the inner wall, whoever was fit for war and placed in the narrow straits threw themselves in the way; they made the battle doubtful for the victors, with men and women fighting from above, and often even hurling stones and every kind of missile they happened to find upon their own people. In short, for six hours the fighting continued at its very close as if it were still at its beginning. At last, those who had determined to fight being slain, then upon the rest without order, without measure, without mercy; old men were butchered along with youths; women with little children were spared, not for pardon, but for slavery: all males were slain, except those whom childhood or infancy protected; two thousand one hundred and thirty persons were led away as booty, masters now on equal footing of condition with their own slaves, whom captivity had made equal.

Nor were the Samaritans free of miseries. For when, according to their custom, they had gone up to Mount Gerizim, which was consecrated to them, where they were accustomed to worship: whence also in the Gospel the Samaritan woman says, "Our fathers worshipped on this mountain." And it was answered her, "The hour cometh, when ye shall neither on this mountain, nor at Jerusalem, worship the Father". For it was fitting that superstition should cease, and true religion succeed; that the shadow should be emptied out, and the truth should come: that no longer on the mountain, as the Samaritans did, nor at Jerusalem three times a year, as the Jews did, but in spirit, in every place, lifting up pure hands, every man should worship God, and bend the knee in the name of Jesus.

When, therefore, as we said above, they remained gathered on the mountain, according to their rites, and the very appearance of the assembly held forth threats of war, or the mood of those who did not come to their senses even after neighboring misfortunes; and much more were they stirred by envy at the more prosperous successes of the Romans, and matters were nearly at the point of tumult; it was judged wiser that they be forestalled, lest they break out into a greater plague. So the commander of the fifth cohort was summoned, with three thousand men of both branches of the service, and Vespasian sent him there. But he, judging it dangerous at the very first to climb the mountain (for a multitude of people, joined with terror, and the steepness of the terrain itself, were together), surrounded the confines of the mountain with his army: and made the guard be relieved throughout the whole day, lest anyone should go down to fetch water.

Since, then, thirst was tormenting so great a multitude of men, which grew ever more fierce with the heat, and many preferred to offer themselves to slavery or even to death, rather than perish by hunger or thirst; Cerealis (for this was the commander's name), reckoning that all who came down were exhausted, encircled the mountain, and, in military fashion, promising safety if they laid down their arms, ordered those who refused to be struck down. Thus there were destroyed there eleven thousand six hundred men.

At Jotapata also, on the forty-eighth day, an assault having been made at first light, while they were still resting, wearied by the much toil of the previous day, Titus, first of all, with Sabinus, entered, and opened the way for the rest. And, the higher places having been seized, in the narrow lanes people everywhere, still unaware of the fact of the assault, were being struck down. Some in their beds, some just woken, some awake, but loosened by hunger and sleep, paid the penalty. Yet still the whole city was in the grip of its misfortunes. But when the army, having entered, roared out with a military howl, they rose up with an intent almost fitted only for undergoing death. And if any tried to seek the higher places, they were driven back and cut down; and those who might have had force enough to take revenge were robbed of vengeance by the very narrowness of the space; and if any prepared to resist those rushing in upon them, they were hidden away by the war itself.

Others, wearied by much fighting, offering themselves to the sword with hands let fall, so that they might at least by death escape such deadly spectacles of their own misfortunes. Deceived by this seeming security of the dying, the centurion Antonius, asked by a certain man who had fled into a cave to give him his right hand, as a pledge and surety of mercy and safety, at once stretched it out, careless of treachery, and—alas, poor wretch!—too confident of his triumph: but the other, catching him off guard, struck him with a dart, and pierced him at once, lest the Romans' victory should be unstained by blood. On that very day all who were found were slain. In the following days, moreover, they were brought out even from underground chambers and other hidden caves, or were put to death right there, except for little children and women.

Slain, over all the days, were forty thousand, who were accounted in the number; led into captivity, one thousand two hundred; the city was overturned and burnt with fire, and all its fortresses, in the thirteenth year of Nero's reign. Josephus meanwhile was hiding among the ashes of the city, in a certain pit, well aware that he, as it were the leader of the opposing force, would be sought after all the more eagerly. Going out on the second day, when he saw everything hedged about, he returned to the pit. On the third day, a certain woman, having discovered the hiding-places of Josephus known to her, showed them to those seeking him (but in the pit forty men, who had taken refuge there, were hiding themselves along with him).

When they perceived that Josephus was first called by Paulinus and Gallicanus, on Vespasian's behalf, to hope of safety, afterward by Nicanor, who was bound to Josephus by an old friendship, and was therefore sent, that he might give his right hand—he was carrying out the office of his commission the more readily—they, surrounding Josephus, assailed him with such words as these:

Now a greater ruin of the Jewish name is being attempted, now a more foul ash, which would bury and hide the discipline of a most splendid lineage, and undermine all its honor, since Josephus is ordered to be reserved as a captive for a triumph. What do these sudden, eager invitations of the enemy mean for themselves? What do these voluntary gifts of safety mean? To others begging for their lives they showed no mercy. Josephus is summoned, Josephus is besought to live. They fear, plainly, lest they lose the pomp of their triumph, lest there be lacking one for Rome to gaze upon as a captive, whom Vespasian may lead in chains before his chariot. Are you being reserved, then, for such mockeries? And of what will they triumph, if their leader be lacking from among those over whom the triumph is held? Or what triumph is it, if friendship is granted to the vanquished? Do not believe it, Josephus: life is promised to you, but graver things than death are being prepared.

Roman arms have conquered you, let not their deceit ensnare you. Their gifts are more savage than their wounds. For those threaten captivity, these preserve for you liberty. Are you being bent, Josephus, and, broken by some softness of spirit, do you wish to survive your homeland? Where is the teaching of Moses, who asked to be blotted out of the heavenly book, lest he survive the people of the Lord? Where is Aaron, who stood midway between the living and the dead, lest death should devour the living people with its savage contagion? Where is the devoted spirit of King Saul and Jonathan toward their country, and that death undertaken for their fellow-citizens, and bravely and gloriously sought? The son by his example invited the father, the father did not abandon the son in his resolve of death. Who, though he could have lived, chose rather to be slain, than to be triumphed over by the enemy.

He was urging his armor-bearer, saying: Strike me, lest these uncircumcised come and strike me, and mock me: because his armor-bearer was afraid, he ran himself through with his own sword. He was worthy that David should vindicate him with prophetic spirit, because a degenerate Amalekite had falsely boasted of his death, and thought that the glory of a man who had removed himself from the enemy's reach should be diminished, so that he might lie that he had been slain by him. Worthy also to be praised by so great a prophet, saying: Saul and Jonathan, lovely and dearest, inseparable in their life, in death also were not separated: swifter than eagles, mightier than lions. David himself too, when he saw the people being struck by the angel, wished that the heavenly vengeance be turned upon himself, lest, with the people perishing, he alone be spared. Finally, where is the divine law, of which you have always been the interpreter, which for this brief life has promised to the just perpetual immortality?

Where is the God of the Hebrews, who teaches the just to hold death in contempt? That they ought also to flee this earthly dwelling, to aspire to the things above, to the region of paradise, where God himself has preserved the souls of the pious? Now at last, Joseph, you desire to live, when it is not fitting, indeed not even lawful; nay, what is more, it is not becoming: and you long to grasp that light (dare I say it) of servitude, which is in another's power, so that the Roman may snatch it away whenever he will, may shroud it in the darkness of a prison whenever he pleases; so that you may wish to flee from here, yet may not be allowed to die: and with what shame will you go to those whom you persuaded to die for their country? What excuse will you have, that you have delayed so long? They wait to see what you will do; they will surely say: Why does Joseph delay, who ought to have gone before?

Why does he follow so late? Why does he refuse to imitate his own disciples, whom he persuaded to die for liberty? We shall certainly bear it, that you, the champion of law and liberty, have chosen to be a slave, that you have consigned yourself as chattel to the Romans, that you have preferred captivity to liberty. But suppose you wish to live—how will you obtain this from those against whom you have so often fought? How will they look upon you? With what eyes? With what feelings? How, with your masters angered, even if it be allowed, will you wish to live? Or who will not believe that he was a betrayer of his country, whom he sees paid the wages of betrayal? Choose which you prefer: one of the two must be. Your life will be either the reward of betrayal, or the punishment of servitude.

Having said this, they drew their swords, adding: If you agree to die, we offer you the service of friends; if you refuse, we exact the vengeance due to one betrayed.

To this Josephus relates: And who would wish to be the survivor of so great a death? Who would choose to become the heir of grief? Who would not wish his soul to be released, if it were permitted, from this very body of death? But it is not permitted to loose it, except by him who has bound it. The soul is joined to the body by the bond of nature. Who is the author of nature but almighty God? Who would dare to interrupt and dissolve this companionship of soul and body which is pleasing to God? If someone, without the will of his master, should remove with his own hands the chains placed on him by the order of his lord, would he not be condemned for having struck his master with grave injury? We are the possession of God, we owe service to God; let us, like servants, await his commands; like men in chains, let us keep the bonds; like faithful men, let us guard the good deposit.

Let us not refuse the gift of this life which he has given us; let us not flee the heavenly gift. If you reject the gifts of a man, you are guilty of contempt: how much more ought we to preserve what we have received from our God? From him therefore we have received what we are: to him also it ought to belong, that we remain as long as he wills. For it is a mark of ingratitude either to depart sooner than he wills, or to live longer than he who gave life himself has willed. Did Abraham hasten to depart before his time? Did Moses ascend Abarim before it was said to him: Go up unto mount Abarim? But it was said, Go up: and he went up, and died: like a good little servant, he waited for the Lord's command.

Job himself, who said: Let that day perish wherein I was born: yet, placed in wounds and sorrows, did not break the bonds of this life, but asked to be freed, saying: Why is light given to one in bitterness, and life to those in bitterness of soul? He praised death, then, when he said: Death is rest indeed: yet he did not seize it, but asked for it, as it is written: I am shaken in all my limbs: and because I am wicked, why am I not dead? Why did I not fall from my mother's womb into the grave? Or is the time of my life short? Let me alone, that I may rest a little. Another saint also says: Bring my soul out of prison. He asks to escape: he asks to be freed from this body as from a certain prison: yet none of the saints ever usurped death for himself, none seized it beforehand.

If it is gain to die, it is theft to seize it before it is awaited; if it is good to live, it is sacrilege to reject it before it is demanded back. But you think it glorious to die in war? Nor do I deny that it is good to die for one's country, good to die for one's fellow citizens in war. But by the law of war I offer my throat, if the enemy demands it: if the Romans plunge the sword, to whom God has given victory over us, to whom he has adjudged us on account of our sins. Nor do I flatter myself that they promise to spare us. Would that they might deceive me! Either I shall count it a gain that they feared me enough to deceive me; or I shall count it a revenge, that they broke faith. I would rather perish by their crime than by my own. It is my crime, if I lay hand upon myself: if the enemy does it, it is a benefit.

Therefore, when they could grant that benefit by killing, they thought it better to preserve what was in their power: that, having captured him, they should kill him—this would be robbery. But you promise me the service of your hands: in truth, the executioner has been lacking to us, so that we might perish by our own crime. I do not wish to perish by my own crime, nor by yours, which is worse than mine, nor by a shared one. For this is for each of us to lay hands on himself, to pay the price of a vicarious death: so that now each of us would owe the crime not only for his own blood, but also for another's. But the example of King Saul is brought forward, of him certainly who was demanded as king against the divine will, and who incurred the displeasure of God. Whence also, while he still lived, he received a successor.

A fine example indeed of a man to whom the grace of God was lacking, and who yet wished to die, because he could no longer live. Yet he too wished that a companion should kill him: but that one too considered it a crime, and refused the service. Therefore he did not act by deliberate counsel, but, deprived of assistance, he was reduced to turning the sword upon himself. If he did it out of fear, lest he be mocked, why do you praise what belongs to fear? If he did not fear, why did he first choose otherwise? I fear neither the mockery of the Romans, nor their deceit. Saul alone destroyed himself; not Jonathan, not anyone else in our Scriptures. What wonder, if he who could even kill his own son could also kill himself?

Aaron stood between the living and the dead: and this is a mark of virtue, not of rashness: for he did not inflict death upon himself, but he did not fear death: he who repelled it with his own body, and stood as an obstacle before the serpent in every way. I indeed am not Aaron, but yet, not unworthy of him, I offer my hands; let them strike as they wish. If I can fear their hands, I am worthy to perish by my own. If they perish at the hand of an adversary, why should not I perish by my own? If you ask why they might wish to spare us: even in an enemy, men admire virtue. So great is the grace of virtue, that it often delights even an enemy. You yourselves know how great destruction I brought upon the Romans, how I, who conquered all nations, turned aside from the ruin of the city of Jerusalem by the long siege of the obscure town of Jotapata.

In a brief loss I played the dice-game of the whole war. Others learned, at my peril, to choose peace. Perhaps we are reserved for this, that others may not be deterred, but rather encouraged. But you say it is sweet to die for freedom. Who denies that too? Yet it is also sweet to live for freedom. For he who offers friendship promises freedom. But if he should impose servitude, then indeed would be the more fitting moment for the will to die, if it were necessary to die: but now they offer life; they do not wish to kill. He is a coward, both he who does not wish to die when it is fitting, and he who wishes to when it is not fitting. For who does not know that it belongs to womanish timidity, and to feminine courage, to wish to die in order not to die? Indeed, timid women, when they perceive some danger threatening them, are wont to throw themselves down a precipice.

For narrow minds cannot bear the weight of fear and the dread of death. But the patient man, who does not fear the present and considers the future, knows not how to tremble where there is no cause for fear. Finally it is written, that the souls of the effeminate shall hunger, for lacking the food of virtue, they hunger; and therefore they hasten to death before the time. For a man filled with the food of spiritual grace does not lay hands upon himself, since it is written: For the mouth of the fool calls for death. And again Scripture says: And he who does not take care of himself in his own works is brother to him who destroys himself. He therefore is condemned who strikes himself. For what is so contrary to the law of nature? What is so contrary even to the nature of all living beings? Even wild and untamed beasts have implanted in them the love of self.

For it is a strong law of nature to wish to live, and not to bring death upon oneself. Indeed, all kinds of animals cannot arm themselves with iron against themselves, even if they wished. Men have devised the shapeless noose of death; beasts know it not. But the bites of beasts are their weapons, their teeth their swords. Yet when has anyone heard that any beast has taken off its own limb with its own bite? Against others they use the weapons of their jaws, against themselves, kisses. To us too, what is so sweet as life? What so hostile as death? Indeed, he who protects life is a patron; he who attempts to seek death is a betrayer.

That which we abhor in others, then, if we ourselves seek it, we wish to inflict upon ourselves: and what we demand of others as punishment, we impose upon ourselves as a favor: and if a pilot dashes the ship entrusted to him upon a rock, we prosecute him: shall we then extinguish with the sword the helm of our own body entrusted to us, and condemn it to voluntary shipwreck? But you object to me an early death, since I would be brought into the power of the enemy. What then would I gain, if what I fear from the enemy, I myself inflict upon myself: when it may happen that the enemy will not do what you urge me to do? This is just as if a pilot, seeing a coming storm, should sink his ship in the waves in order to avoid the storm. Or, because the adversary is going to exact more grievous punishments, do you think it should therefore be forestalled? Or because you consider it courageous, that we should use the sword upon ourselves?

But this is a refuge of weakness, not a trophy of virtue, to seize upon the gain of punishments. In this, then, we are caught, that it has neither the marks of fortitude, nor any advantage of usefulness. But why should I add the sacredness of a violated deposit? Almighty God gave us an excellent treasure, and, enclosed in this vessel of clay and sealed, committed it to us to guard, until it should please him to demand it back. Is it not a crime in either case: either to reject the deposit, when he who gave it has not demanded it back; or, when he demands it, to refuse it? If to violate the deposit of a man is a punishment of infamy, how much more to violate the deposit of God! The deposit of God is the soul in this body, a soul which is not capable of this death.

For it is bound and fettered by no bond of death, but seems to await death, when it is released from the body, and is separated from the companionship entrusted to it. Why then, before the deposit is demanded back, do we bring death upon it, and dismiss the soul as useless to us, and shut it out of our house, and dissolve the body, without its dignity and grace, into the earth? Why do we not wait for the command to depart hence? The soldier awaits the watchword, the servant the command. If either of these should depart without orders: one is a deserter, the other a fugitive. He who flees a man is nearly liable, even though he has fled a wicked master: can we, fleeing the best of all masters, remain unbound by the guilt of impiety? Is it not also beyond our understanding that God has set his Angel round about them that fear him? Is there then one to forbid, unless a command has been received?

If there is no command, there is no provision for the journey. And how shall we arrive without provision? Who will receive us into that pure and secret place? Who will admit us to the company of those holy souls? Adam hid himself, because he had transgressed the command of God: he was shut out of paradise, because he did not keep the commandment. It is said to him: Adam, where art thou? As to one who has fled, as to one whose presence is not with God. Is it not said to me also, Where art thou? Who hast come without command, whom I have not released from the bonds of nature? Take him into outer darkness, where there shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth, and pain. These things we have received as forbidden, not only by the customs of men, but even by laws: for some command that those who have thrown themselves upon the sword be cast out unburied.

For it is fitting that those who did not await the command of their father should be deprived, as it were, of the bosom of a mother, the burial of the earth. Others cut off the right hand of the dead, so that it may be separated from the members of his body, that hand which warred against his own body in a mad fury. But this fate is borne by sacrilegious men, or traitors, or the slayers of their parents, who did not recognize their true father, nor know themselves. Therefore they are either wholly forbidden burial, or are not buried entire. Their souls too, paradise does not receive, but the darkness of the underworld, and cruel punishments. Reflecting on these things, though everything else has been taken from me, these alone remain as terror and dread to me: nor will I inflict upon myself what not even the enemy will be able to inflict: and I shall not snatch away from myself those things of paradise, which the Roman has not yet been able to take away.

Certainly he may be able to hasten it, but he will not be able to take away that which alone I impatiently desire. It is not the property of God, is the soul in this body.

For no desire of this life holds me, in which I have found nothing pleasing either among my fellow citizens or among my enemies. These have denied me peace, those have taken away my country. Amid so many evils, what sweetness can remain in this life? Do thou, almighty Father, who art the author and arbiter of nature, grant an honorable end, do thou break this natural bond: restore my soul to its own secret places. Let the people be destroyed, right taken away, freedom crushed: yet I will not transgress thy law, so as to die unbidden. I wait for thee to command, I wait for thee to free one who is willing. Thou hast many executors of thy command: from thee I await the order, from the executor the service. It is good to die: but let me die as a Hebrew, not as a robber, not as an executioner, not as an enemy.

Though conquered in war, I shall remain nonetheless what I was born to be, so that I may not abandon the inheritance of Abraham my father. I shall not pass over into the number of the enemy, so as to be my own executioner. I can offer myself to the enemy to be struck down without loss of piety: I cannot turn my hands against myself in the manner of an enemy without crime. Or is it truly a fear, that we may not be permitted to live according to the law? In truth, great is now the freedom of those who are now permitted to die according to the law.

These things Josephus was urging, that he might do away with the inclination toward voluntary death. But those men, who had once devoted themselves to death, since they could not resist with words, straightway stood about the man with swords as though about to strike, unless he thought he should yield. But he, surrounded, would call back one man by the authority of his generalship and the constancy of his courage, would meet another with a severe gaze. He would draw back the right hand of this one, would bend aside the wrath of that one, would soothe him with the wholesomeness of counsel. By diverse means he wrested from each his unreasonable fury. For although the final lot of the vanquished had wrested away his dignity, it had not utterly abolished their reverence for him. Little by little, then, hands were lowered, swords put away, yet the intent persisted.

When he saw that he alone was being held besieged by many, he devised—whether by some chance or by design—a plan to lessen the number of those resisting him. "Let us entrust," he said, "the order of dying to lot, so that no one may withdraw himself, since the lot falls upon all alike. Let the condition of the lot be such, that he who is drawn by lot shall be slain by the one who follows. Thus it will come about that the lot, not one's own will, condemns each man to death. Let each man, therefore, stand under the lot as judge, both free of the guilt and free of captivity, so that he may neither hasten by another's decision nor by his own postpone the death that is to come. No one will be able to refuse an outcome which either chance has brought, or the will of God has marked out." The proposal won trust, and the assent of all acquiesced in the lot.

Each one designated by the lot offered himself ready for slaughter to the one following. And so it happened that, the rest having been slain, Josephus alone remained with one other for death. It was necessarily left that either he should be condemned by the lot, or certainly, if he survived the slaughter, he would be defiled by the blood of his companion. He persuaded the other to renounce the lot. Thus he escaped the domestic combat, and through Nicanor was brought to Vespasian. A crowd gathered to see him as he arrived, nearly all the Romans flocking together; some desired to see cast down the man whom, a little before, they had beheld set in the greatest honor, presiding over the highest affairs; others vied to mock the captive; others marveled at the vicissitudes of human affairs, so various and so changeable. Very many, more wisely, groaned, reckoning that in the misfortunes of others the same things could happen to themselves.

Titus above the rest was moved, by the innate gentleness of his spirit: that man, once a proud warrior, now suddenly subjected to the power of enemies by another's motion, awaiting the lot of his life, shipwrecked, exiled from hope, uncertain of safety. So much do moments avail in wars, that by a brief turn of chance they render men unlike themselves, when either the powerful are cast down, or the afflicted are raised up. And so the better part, namely of those who held honor, gave milder counsels: yet the greatest share of safety for Josephus lay with Titus, before his father. Vespasian ordered him to be kept under guard, lest by chance he should escape.

Thence, a few days later, he returned to Ptolemais, and from there hastened to Caesarea, the greatest city of Judea, but rather filled with Gentile inhabitants: whence they received the Roman army with applause and rejoicing, not only for the desired favor of Roman alliance, but also because of an innate hatred of the Jewish populace: whose leader, Josephus, they clamored with loudest shouts ought to be punished. This Vespasian dissolved with silence, as the anger of the crowd conceived without judgment. And because it was a city suitable for wintering, both in point of season and of circumstance, he stationed two legions in Caesarea, and also the tenth and the fifteenth legions in the city of Scythopolis, lest Caesarea be worn down by the burden of the whole army.

And this same city, consecrated to the Scythian Diana, as though founded by the Scythians, and called the city of the Scythians, as Massilia is of the Greeks: the situation of the place declares the inborn hardness of its founder, who chose it for the endurance of the plains rather than for advantages suited to habitation. For, being open and harsh in winter, and burning in the season of summer, they have more of toil than of pleasure: since in winter they lie more exposed to cold, and in these places the blaze of summer is heavier, in which they receive the sun in its fullness without any pleasantness of a verdant field. And so the level and maritime region of the said city was further heated by the very warmth of the sea.

Nor yet was Vespasian idle in matters of war. For, having learned that a great many, from various places, had betaken themselves to the city of Joppa, and that they had restored it, as suitable for their pirate raids, by rebuilding the structures that had been destroyed by Cestius—since, the region having been laid waste, a supply of sustenance was sought from the sea—he carefully investigated all things. But those men, having built vessels of the kind fit for the use of pirates, watching for the passage of travelers, plundered nearly all the commerce of Phoenicia and Egypt; to such a degree that, by the terrors of frequent pillaging, they closed off that whole sea, and, from fear of certain danger, the practice of sailing was interrupted. This being discovered, he ordered a force of infantry and most of the cavalry to march, and to enter Joppa by night.

This was easily done, since no guard was set before the city: because, its reputation as destroyed, it was reckoned that it would raise no concern in the Roman commander. Yet they were present: but not daring to resist or to deny entrance to the Romans as they arrived, they boarded their ships, and, advancing beyond bowshot, spent the night at sea. The matter seems to demand that the situation of the shore along which Joppa lies be briefly set forth; so that it may be plainly shown how, without any battle, a second disaster befell the aforesaid city.

The city stands naturally in a harbor, whose shoreline, along the sea, is rough and straight, but gently curved inward at both horns: in which there are deep rocks and huge masses of stone, which jut out into the sea, and, though they rise from the sea's bottom, nevertheless run out into it: whence also it is claimed that Andromeda was there, together with the sea-monster, the very shapes of the places and the appearance of the things themselves seeming to lend no small credence to the ancient tales. And so, when adverse blasts of the north wind beat upon the shore, the waves are raised to an immense height; which, dashed against the rocks, raise a huge roar, and, falling back into the waves, render that inlet of the sea restless, so that there is more danger in the harbor than in the open sea.

In this harbor, then, while the skiffs, which we said above had been brought out from the city of Joppa, were tossing, at dawn there fell upon them a violent wind, which those who sail in those parts call the Melamborius, and immediately, the waves driving them against one another, it mingled and overturned the skiffs. Some, their anchor-cables broken, it drove upon the rock; others, while they were violently raised against the opposing sea, met disaster either from the danger of the rocky shore, or, as the sailors fled, from the Romans who had poured round the shore, and a towering wave, rising above like a mountain, overwhelmed and drowned them. Nor was there any place of refuge, nor hope of remaining, since the wind drove them from the sea, and the Romans shut them out from the city. Grievous was the sound of the vessels, as they collided with one another: unbearable the groaning of the men, as they were shattered.

When they saw the sea bursting in upon their tottering hulls, some cast themselves into it by skill in swimming: others, while they leapt toward approaching skiffs, having slipped into the sea, were crushed by the collision of the hulls. Very many sank down together with the very pinnaces, whom confidence in swimming had abandoned; yet with less torment than those who lacked skill, or any hope of attempts, death transfixed. But those who had set out to swim, the broken fragments of the ships, shaken by frequent blows, struck, and, dashed against their sides, foully mangled the wretched limbs; or, driven against the rocks, in the very moment of longing to embrace the shore, death overtook them, having yet this consolation, whatever it was, that they had perished on land. A pitiable sight it was, then, when the rocks were spattered with the dashed-out brains of the unfortunate, and the shores were soaked with blood. One could see the sea stained with gore, everything filled with corpses.

And if any by chance had escaped, they were slain as they drew near the shore: the Romans reckoning that it was not from the roughness of the place and the wonted habit of the winds that the storm raged so fiercely in those parts, but that, by divine indignation, the winds had conspired beyond their custom to overwhelm the sea, lest the Jews escape: and therefore they feared to spare those whom God had not spared. There were some who slew themselves with the sword, judging it more tolerable to perish by the sword than by shipwreck: others, wishing to push off with poles, pierced their own vessels: some, when men who had fallen into the sea begged, if perchance, to be lifted up by those sailing by, drove them back with oars or struck them with a weapon.

This I have not omitted, that it may be clear that the danger to the Jewish people was greater from themselves than from the enemy, since they were destroying themselves: as though all things together were scarcely sufficient for their destruction—heaven, enemy, sea, rocks, all hostile at once. And so four thousand five hundred bodies of the dead were counted, which the sea had spat forth; the city was taken without a battle, and razed from its foundations. Thus, in a short time, the Roman force destroyed Joppa a second time. This Vespasian rightly thought should be commanded, lest pirate dwellings be established there again. Whence also, leaving the cavalry in that place, he himself, setting out thence with fewer infantry, left the foot-soldiers to remain in the place, lest the band accustomed to brigandage should dare anything; while the cavalry should range over the neighboring region, its villages and towns, so that everything (lest they should conspire to any daring act) might be utterly destroyed.

While these things were being done at Joppa, although the people of Jerusalem dwelt far off, not even so were they free from a share in the disaster. For having heard what had been done by the Romans in Judea, and especially, because they had learned that Josephus had been slain, at first they did not believe it, because no informant had come to them concerning the places; then they thought that so great a leader could not rashly have fallen into the hands of the enemy. And truly no messenger of so great a disaster had survived, and this very fact—that no informant remained—confirmed the rumor of utter destruction, that all had perished, and nothing had remained even as evidence of what had happened. There persisted an opinion greater than any report, because, while the very silence kept men uncertain, all the things that were feared were believed; and so far was it from anything being reported more truly, that even things which had not happened were added on.

For rumor also asserted that Josephus had been slain, and this was a matter of the greatest grief to all. But when it was discovered that he was living among the Romans, they pursued him with such hatred, that the very man whose death they had first mourned, they now detested his life as a mark either of cowardice or of treachery. Hence a greater agitation arose against the Romans, that they might avenge themselves upon Josephus. And the more their affairs declined, the more they were kindled to war. Where there ought to have been an end, thence they took up the beginning of evils. For to the wise, the adverse outcomes of affairs serve rather as a lesson for caution, lest the same things happen again which have already turned out badly; but to the imprudent, they are an incitement to miseries. The danger of their allies ought therefore to have been a cause of sobriety for the people of Jerusalem: but because they refused to understand, that they might do well, it turned to their destruction.

Vespasian, however, both that by this very delay he might take better counsel for himself, and that he might rest a little while from the labor of his army, yielded to the request of Agrippa, that he should spend about twenty days in Caesarea Philippi, a city of his kingdom, at the same time so that the sick portions of his forces might recover from the fury of agitation and discord, men who ought to acknowledge that they could be received back, if they should turn themselves around, through the intervention of the king, since such faithful bonds of good offices existed between the king and the Romans. Finally, Tiberias, near Caesarea, did not refuse the remedy, and found health. For it too was seething with a grievous disease of a populace at odds among itself. Whence Vespasian decided that the three stronger legions should be summoned, and Scythopolis reached, the matter being entrusted to his son. This was the greatest of the ten cities, near Tiberias.

Thence he ordered Valerian to approach the walls with fifty horsemen, to urge peaceful measures, and to call those shut within to trust in alliance, so that the terror of the assembled army might strike down those who were hostile, while the message of peace might invite those who were willing. Valerian dismounted near the walls: the same did those also who had approached along with him. Judging them, on account of their small number, to be men to be despised, Jesus, the leader of a band of raiders, together with his men, who had likewise dared to approach, by a sudden sally drove them from the place, and, cutting down at the same time the horses they had brought, seized them: mad men, who did not perceive that it would have been wiser for Valerian to have yielded to their insolence, than to have seized spoils from those who were offering peace.

At length the elders, offended by the bitterness of the deed, leaving the city, came to Vespasian to beg that the insolence of a few should not be charged against the whole populace. Vespasian at once sent Trajan to the city, to find out whether the people opposed the rashness of the plotters. And he, reporting the harmonious sentiments of the people, and the entreaties of the elders, added credit to the embassy. Thus pardon was granted to those who asked; especially because Vespasian observed the king to be anxious for the state of the whole city. His good faith having been pledged, that they would attempt nothing of the sort thereafter, Vespasian willingly granted the pardon for the offense.

Thence he made for Tarichaeae with a wary and well-ordered column, since a very great multitude had flowed to that city on account of the fortification of the place: and because Josephus had walled it round, except where it was inaccessible to foot-soldiers, being washed by the waters of the lake of Gennesaret, and so, ships having been gathered together, a double-edged war raged. If the land battle should turn against them, they would flee to the ships; if they should yield in the naval contest, they would return to the city, and defend themselves by the walls surrounding them. Similar defenses were on both sides, whether in the city of Tiberias or at Tarichaeae. But at Tarichaeae the temperaments were more reckless: in walls Tiberias was stronger. But also the fury of the men of Tarichaeae was readier, so that, if it were necessary, they would mingle everything together: naval contests with land battles, land battles with naval ones.

At length, surrounded, in the opposing battle-line, though they dared more than their strength allowed, and though against the ordered discipline of the Romans, and the valor also of a veteran army, their rashness could accomplish nothing; before they should suffer any destruction, turned to flight, they rushed to the ships. These being massed together, the battle was fought as though in a dense battle-line, as if the matter were being carried on by hand upon land. On the plain also an innumerable multitude was awaiting the enemy. This being known, Vespasian sent his son with chosen cavalry. Who, when he saw himself surrounded by immense forces, indeed reported to his father that the multitude of the enemy was greater than expectation had comprehended: but, having summoned those whom he had brought with him, poured into them an incitement to battle by the following address.

Roman men, he said, it behooves you to remember your name and race, when about to fight, you whose hand no one who is in the Roman world escapes. For whence did you give this name to all the lands except by conquering? It is fitting also to remember the place in which you now stand, and against whom you wage a Roman war. For we stand in the farthest part of the world. Having crossed, therefore, such great spaces of lands, you have seen nothing foreign. For what is foreign to you, in whose possession the world is? Whatever exists anywhere is your right: whatever the habitation of all peoples holds, is your possession. He ran well who established your triumphs running through the whole world, triumphs which neither Hasdrubal the Carthaginian, nor Pyrrhus the Aeacid, nor Brennus leaning on the very threshold of the Capitol, nor the hosts of the Persians, nor the phalanxes of Egypt could bring to a halt.

These a rebellious Judea has halted, preferring an unlearned rashness of warring, more suited to brawling than to battle. Nor indeed is there anything I fear, but I judge it full of shame, that you should grow weary in conquering. But they, as often as they are conquered, take up boldness: you are wearied by successes, while they are made harder by adversity. Lift up your spirits, therefore, Roman men, and rise up against the throngs of the enemy, relying on your ancestral valor. Let not the number of the Jewish populace move you, since so many marks of your valor—which are far mightier in number—do not deter them. For among the Hebrews there is no knowledge of military affairs, no skill in fighting, no grace of discipline, no practice of training, no patience for endurance. Into battle they bring only contempt for death: but no one ever conquered an enemy by dying, but by slaying.

They know arms only in war; we are exercised in arms even in peace, so that in war we may not feel the uncertain hazards of war as doubtful. For to the unaccustomed the outcome is uncertain: for veterans, triumph is customary. For what else do we do daily, except that battles may never be a novelty to us? Each man is trained at home as if in battle, so that in battle there may be a certain rehearsal of the contest. In short, no one would err in asserting that our rehearsals are wars without blood, and our wars are rehearsals. We advance into war fortified: on every side the head is covered by a helmet, the breast by a breastplate, and the whole body by a shield: where the enemy might strike the Roman soldier he cannot find, since he sees him hedged about with iron. To others such arms are a burden, to us a covering, because by use they are made light. Our battle, therefore, is against men unarmed and naked.

Do we indeed fear being surrounded by numbers? First, the cavalry is free in battles, and by retreating and pursuing it preludes the war. And although it circles round the greatest battle-lines, it also withdraws over whatever spaces it pleases. Then, in the infantry contest itself, it is not so much the number of the many that decides the battle, as the valor of the few. A multitude unaccustomed to discipline is itself a hindrance to itself—in prosperity toward victory, in adversity toward flight. But valor, being enduring, grows stronger in success, and does not collapse utterly in adversity. Add to this, that the habit of victories is an incentive to us for fighting. For even though they fight for their country, for their children, they ought not therefore to be readier than we. For it is no less—indeed I know not whether it is even more—for us to contend for things not our own than for our own.

We fight for ourselves, and when we fight, it is for glory, lest we be less than what we are. Who then would doubt that it is a greater thing to contend for glory than for safety? For us, however, this war concerns the peril of our reputation, lest a right once won should perish. We are in peril also, as conquerors of nations and princes of the world, of seeming equal to the Jews, whom we set up as adversaries on equal terms with ourselves, if we should engage them only with matching numbers. Our ancestors have often routed great forces of the enemy with a small band. And what do our daily exercises avail us? What does long labor avail, if we come to battle as equals? We have indeed reported the numbers to our father, because it was not permitted otherwise: but let him observe that we did not fear on account of danger, but reserved the deference due to war for the arbiter.

It is permitted to taste the war beforehand, to hold the enemy, to snatch victory, while reinforcements are coming: lest those who come should boast that the adversaries were overcome not so much by our common strength, as that we were protected by their valor. With what face, then, shall we come into the sight of our father, if we shall have feared to begin the war? With what shame shall I, a degenerate son, come under the eyes of so great a man, who knows not how to see his soldier except as a victor? How shall I prove myself his soldier and son, when he is always the triumphant one, while I—what is more grievous—am conquered even in my own judgment, having yielded to the Jewish enemy? What will become of you, with your leader condemned, whom your father entrusted to you without anxiety? But I would rather give account to you of the leader's valor than of his cowardice. Let us, therefore, rush upon the adversaries, let us hasten, let us trample the enemy.

I shall run first into danger, you follow, that you may guard the trust of your father and preserve what your father has committed. But I do not require companions in danger, but partners in victory. Yet take care, lest you seem to have reserved for others the palm of triumph offered to you, and to have snatched it from yourselves. Certainly, if it should turn out otherwise, I would rather my father recognize me as his son by my wounds, if he should not recognize me among his soldiers. Let us suppose, however, that our father is offended by our engaging in battle. What then is more tolerable—to have snatched away victory, or to have deserted it? In snatching it away there is the haste of courage; in deserting it, the fault of cowardice. Let my father indeed condemn the victors—I do not dread such a charge: I would rather be guilty with the republic triumphant, than innocent with it harmed.

Would that it were permitted me to imitate, even in the danger alone, the son of Manlius Torquatus; whom his father ordered to be struck by the axe, because he had led the army against the enemy contrary to his father's command. The young man stood, the enemy slain, clothed in the laurels of triumph, unafraid of death beneath the executioner, since he thought it most blessed to die in victory. For what is more illustrious than to close one's life with a triumph, and not to be preserved for the uncertainties of fortune after a certain victory? O crime of victory, to be desired by the prudent! Would that this too might be objected to us, that we conquered. Certainly by that example I alone shall be in danger, you shall triumph. And yet our father did not forbid us to fight, but ordered those whom he directed to the fight. Whence I judge he would be more indignant that we yielded to the Jews, when we were able to conquer, than that we fought.

Saying these things, he was the first to drive his horse against the enemy, and with a great shout the rest followed: they extended over the whole field, so that they were reckoned even more numerous than they were. Trajan too, sent by Vespasian with three hundred horsemen, came up while Titus was already advancing. Nor could the Jews resist any longer, being thrown into confusion by the spears of the men and the neighing of the horses. Turned therefore in different directions, some sought the city. Titus dashes forth, and presses upon others fleeing from behind, cuts down others, and by outrunning them along the way drives all the scattered ones back from the walls, and meeting those running back, cuts off their flight. Yet again some were laid low there, others escaped to whom the city was a refuge: but for them too the battle was fiercer. For those who had flowed in from the neighboring places had at first offered peace, but the people arriving had wrested from the unwilling a zeal for warring.

Hence within the city there was dissension and grave tumult: roused by this uproar, Titus turned to his soldiers: "This," he said, "most holy comrades, is the time I have longed for. The enemies are stirring up tumult among themselves within the city; outside they are cut down, inside they fight each other with swords. Let us hasten, then, while they still are at odds, lest perhaps out of fear of danger they return to harmony." So he mounted the horse from which he had dismounted, being close to the walls; and turning toward the lake, he made for the city through the waves of the waters; and he was the first to burst into the city, and afterward the rest. And immediately all who were within were scattered in flight, some were laid low, others, climbing into boats, were plunged into the lake, many mortals were slain within.

Those, however, who were from the fields offered themselves to the Romans, asserting that they were strangers to the guilt, whom Titus, with pious moderation, thought should be spared, pressing hard only upon the authors of the rebellion. He therefore sent a horseman to his father, to announce the outcome of the victory. Delighted at this, Vespasian, and especially at the triumph of his son, who had accomplished the greatest portion of the whole war that was being waged against Judea, hastened there, and ordered the city to be watched more diligently, lest anyone should escape, since all were liable to punishment. Yet on another day, on account of those who had betaken themselves into skiffs, he ordered rafts to be made: which were made without delay, since the neighboring woods and the many workmen gave the means of hastening the task.

For the lake itself, like a very broad gulf of some encircling sea, extends in length one hundred and forty stadia, and spreads in breadth forty, its rippling waters stirring up a breeze from itself for itself. Whence it is also called Genesar in the Greek term, as though generating a breeze for itself: the water is sweet and fit for drinking: since it receives nothing thick or turbid of marshy stagnation, because it is surrounded on every side by a sandy shore, and it is more temperate than the rigor of a river or a spring.

Yet it is colder than the surface of a placid marsh, precisely because the water does not lie spread out in the manner of a pool, but through its more diffused spaces the lake is more frequently stirred by breathing breezes: whence its draught is also purer, and softer for the purpose of drinking; and if one should wish to add the pursuit of natural favor, so that, as is the custom of the inhabitants, it is exposed to the breezes at night after being suspended in summer for drinking, one would judge it in no way to differ from the manner of snow. The kinds of fish also, in taste and appearance, are more excellent than in any other place.

The matter seems to require that we should open up the origin of the Jordan, which we promised elsewhere: for in the doubt of a former age, whether the river called the Jordan arose from the lake of Genesar, Philip, tetrarch of the region of Trachonitis, refuted the false opinion and dissolved the error, by casting chaff into Phiala, which the river at Panium boiled up. Whence it is clear that the beginning of the Jordan is not at Panium, but its flowing forth. For its source is not there, as though it began there in the manner of other rivers: but, diverted from Phiala in Trachonitis by the same subterranean channels, it there again gushes forth as though from a spring, and emerging is revealed. Now Phiala is in the land of Trachonitis, one hundred twenty stadia lying between it and the city of Caesarea.

The name Phiala was given by its appearance, as expressing the quality of a bowl, because it is so continually full of waters that they neither overflow, nor again are understood to be drawn off by any diminution. Below, therefore, the water flows by a certain hidden measure, and where Panium is, it boils up again, as was made manifest by the resurfacing chaff. Thus the Jordan was shown to rise again there, where men of former times reckoned it to be born from what lay above.

Nor yet from the beginning did the same source of the Pannias have anything but its natural grace alone: but by the munificence of King Agrippa the place was adorned with a richer and more splendid approach, whereby we have learned that the cave was built up and beautified with wondrous ornament, through which the Jordan lifts itself. Whence, no longer hidden nor concealed through hollow channels of the earth, but visible upon the lands and as an open river beginning, it spreads itself over the lake Semechonitis, and cuts through its marshes. Thence too directing its course, it advances a hundred and twenty stadia without any mingling, as far as the city called Julias: afterward it passes through the middle of the stream of that lake which is called Genesar; from which places, having wandered through very many deserts, it is received into the lake Asphaltites, and is buried in it. Thus, victor having passed out of two lakes, it comes to rest in a third.

Now the region of Genesar borders on the lake of the same name, from which it also took its name, by a wonderful gift of nature and by the appearance of its beauty. For the fertility of the soil furnishes spontaneous fruits, and being fruitful in groves it raises up of its own accord every kind; and the skill of cultivation, imitating nature in the fruit-bearing trees, has bent the grace of rich fecundity to whatever uses it wished; so that there is nothing there which nature has denied, nothing which cultivation has passed over: so suited is it to all things, and never foreign to any fruits. Its climate is so temperate that it suits the diversity of all things that grow. There both things nourished by cold pour themselves forth abundantly, and things fostered by heat. There you might see summer things mixed together with winter ones at the same time, northern nuts, and dates which know not how to be produced except in hotter regions.

Why should I speak of figs or of grapes, which a better climate nourishes? Yet they are not equal to those higher ones: for those are the principal fruits of Palestine, and indeed native fruits, and thereby more abundant; these are nearly equal, and though at a long interval, yet close, so that you would call it a pleasant contest of nature and of the seasons. That region, like a fecund mother, creates all things: the temperate climate of these, like a good nurse, rears everything with gentle nurture. And so not only are diversities of fruits abundantly produced, but they are also preserved, so that some kinds do not fail for the greater part of the year: all the rest remain throughout the whole span of the year even to its end.

For both the grapes and figs which are on grafted trees, of a certain royal excellence, overflow without any failure for ten months, and the rest of the fruits of the branches, whether the violence of the countryside has of its own accord guarded them, or human industry has engendered them, know not how to abandon their service, unless new ones succeed, by a certain use on the part of those who tend them. To this fertility of nature and temperateness of climate is added also the grace of a spring, which irrigates the aforesaid region with a kind of generative infusion, its name being Capernaum, which some have not without reason judged to be a vein of the river Nile: not only because the fields are made rich by irrigation, but also because it produces a kind of fish such that you would think it the coracinus, which is found in the Alexandrian lake from the inflow of the Nile. The place too is named from the name of the lake.

It stretches in length thirty stadia, in breadth twenty. Since we have spoken of the nature of the place, let us return to the completion of the battle. Rafts having therefore been prepared, according to his own command Vespasian placed upon them a military force, to pursue those who had escaped the plague by the flight of their vessels. What then they might do, they could not discover. There was no place of safety on the lands; the enemy was spread all around: no power of fleeing on the waters, since the lake was closed and surrounded on every side by the Romans. Nor was there any confidence of resisting in their tiny skiffs. For what could a few do against so many, as the rafts drew near? The approach of these indeed was slower, and the sallying of the boats more effective, but without any wound to themselves; only the crash of shields could be heard as darts rebounded.

The Jews did not dare to draw near; nor did anyone approach nearer in a small boat with impunity, since from close by he would easily be pierced by the blows of weapons, or sunk together with his raft. And if anyone attempted to swim away or to emerge, being pierced by the shot of an arrow, he laid down his miserable life amid the waves. Nor could they resist any longer, since they were being diminished by a different means as well. For as many rafts gradually converged, the Romans drove the greatest number of vessels toward the shores. But those, being hemmed in, either leapt back onto the land, and there were slain by the Romans, or were crushed by the concourse of the rafts, or threw themselves into the lake, when the enemy leapt into their boats. You might have seen the waters mingled with blood, the lake full of corpses. For no one was spared, whoever was encountered. A heavy odor, a most foul stench of the places.

Six thousand Jews (together, however, with those slain before) and seven hundred were destroyed in that battle. Vespasian, victorious, returned to Tarichea: there he prepared to distinguish the population of the region from that of the city, so that those who had not been instigators of the sedition might be spared. But by the counsel of very many, who judged that so great a multitude surviving, which could rekindle renewed battles, was hostile to peace and useless to the localities (for where would they settle, driven from their homeland? By what sustenance would they support themselves, deprived of everything, unless they lived by plunder?), he changed his decision, and, the hope of a pardon having been given, ordered death, that they should go out by that gate which faced Tiberias, and make for that city. They readily believed what they longed for. They began to go out, but the route having been forestalled beforehand, the marching columns of the Romans closed off everything, and led them into the stadium of the city.

Vespasian therefore, having entered, and having considered the age and strength of all those whom he had ordered to be stationed, chose six thousand of the stronger young men, whom he sent to Nero at the Isthmus; but the old men and the weak, one thousand two hundred, he ordered to be killed; of the remaining thirty thousand he sold four hundred; but all those who were found to be from the parts of the kingdom of Agrippa he gave to the king as a gift, whom the king likewise, having received a price, transferred into the servitude of slavery. Moreover the other population of the region of Trachonitis and Gaulanitis, of Joppa and of Gadara, as instigators of war and disturbers of concord, abandoning their own possessions and invading those of others, who having taken up arms had violated the peace, paid just and due penalties for the deserts of their crimes.

Tarichea having been for the most part destroyed, the Romans held possession of the cities and territories of Galilee, except that the city of Gamala in the region of Gaulanitis, resting on rougher terrain, nourished the spirits of a stubborn people: for it is situated on a mountain, cut off on right and left by sheer cliffs, narrowed at the summit, cut off in front by a deep chasm, spreading somewhat more toward the rear. From that side too, by a narrow and difficult approach, such that you would judge the path leading to the city to be like a tail: from the topmost peak stretching its neck immensely, so that it presents the citadel like a head, and raises it to a lofty height: slender at the beginning, and as if the ground were curved by sloping windings, and sunk down into a depth; then, as it were, raising a certain mountain in the middle of its neck; the rest sheer and impassable.

Whence very many of the ancients think it was called Camala, because it presents the shape of a camel, but through the corrupted usage of the inhabitants the name Gamala clung to the city. Now if you look at the buildings joined together, you would think the city suspended, and would judge especially its northern part to be hanging, the southern part being bent back a little. Josephus had also added fortifications to this city, relying on which, and on the number of the multitude that had flowed together there, they had for seven months made sport of the siege of King Agrippa. For it, and Sogana, and Seleucia were portions of his kingdom. Seleucia lay near that most pleasant and celebrated grove of Daphne throughout Syria, interwoven with cypress trees, teeming with springs, from which, as the river which they call the lesser Jordan flows past, it infuses a certain nourishment as from milky breasts. And yet the city, and Sogana above it, were the upper portion of Gaulanitis, Gamala the lower.

Whence too, with differing inclinations, those had chosen the Roman alliance. This city rebelled so stubbornly, that when the king wished to address them from nearer the walls, he was wounded by a sling's cast. At which injury the Romans, being inflamed, began to press the siege more vehemently: and a most vigorous contest was waged on both sides, since the Jews too, thinking that they, who had done violence to their own king as he urged what was useful, would receive no pardon whatsoever, if they were conquered, contended with all their strength. Agrippa therefore, struck on his right elbow by a stone, withdrew from the war, and the Romans burst into the city. For the enemy yielded to the missiles, the wall to the battering rams. For those who hindered the machines could no longer resist; and the wall, shaken by a triple ram, offered a passage to the besiegers into those under siege. But this event, through impatience of haste, brought no small disaster upon the victors.

For when they poured themselves into the dwellings, while they searched about or hastened to seize the spoils commanded, the narrow structures of the houses, yielding to the weight, with their foundations tottering, drew down ruin: and the nearest buildings, dashed against their neighbors, fell in destruction. Many of the Romans, involved in those mishaps, met their doom in the midst of victory. Very many, lying beneath the fallen buildings, were caught, where with mangled bodies they were scarcely saved half-dead. The dust killed many; they were cut down, hemmed in narrow spaces; and from above too, women and feeble old men, and those of the younger men who had fled back, hurled stones upon those below, or whatever kinds of weapons came to hand. Darkness had poured over everything, had snatched away sight, had confounded the mind; ignorance too could not find the way out. Scarcely thus, withdrawing themselves from the dangers, did they get out of the city.

Meanwhile Vespasian, while pressing the enemy, had gone into the interior of the city, and, situated in the midst amid the surrounding columns of the enemy, kindled the battle. For it neither befit such a man to turn his back upon the enemy, nor did he think it safe. He had sent his son Titus into Syria: he roused the steadfastness of his known valor, and, gathering himself into arms, with shields locked, together with the few he had at hand, stood undaunted, as if considering upon whom he would hurl himself: the Jews, fearing his onset, began to press with less force, and each fearing for himself, they loosened their line. Thus Vespasian, facing the enemy, gradually drew back, more like one still fighting than one retreating. There, among the ten first men, Ebutius fell, a man proven in many former wars, and among the Jews a man of known experience and strong courage. A centurion too, together with ten other Syrians, did a deed outstanding and memorable.

For in the very tumult, when he saw the Romans being pressed, he betook himself into the hidden part of a certain house, and there, while dining, when the Jews were discussing among themselves what they were plotting against the Romans, in the dead of night he killed them all, and presented himself with his soldiers to the Roman army.

But Vespasian, when he perceived the army downcast by the loss of very many, and especially by the shame of having abandoned their leader, in that they had left him alone within the enemy's city, consoled them with the utmost kindness, saying: If the lot of my danger is a source of shame to you, neither had I gone forth to war in such a way as to shrink from dangers, but to overcome them: but if, because very many of our own too were slain, this is by no means to be wondered at: for when is any victory without bloodshed? Battles have their own outcomes. Even though proven valor is wont to prevail in war, yet something is wont to be allowed to chance. But it is the mark of a prudent man, in adversity, to correct a mishap, in prosperity, to maintain moderation.

On the contrary, it is the mark of a certain crude and unlearned disposition always to presume upon successful outcomes, as if the contest were not against men: while it is the mark of a weak man to lose confidence in the whole affair through some fall, when by trifling turns everything that is carried on in war is suddenly overturned. Therefore that man is most excellent who, amid adverse circumstances, wrestles soberly with mishaps, and trips up his superior, and seeks to repair himself and correct his own falls. But he who is more careless of his own movements often falls, and while he rushes headlong unwarily, he is thrown down by his own impetus and collapses. And if this often happens where valor stands unclothed, how much more in war, where columns of different kinds join in combat, and there is no single plan, no shared judgment?

An unfavorable place, difficult roughnesses, an unequal condition of fighting in a narrow space for many against few: since the very multitude is a burden to itself, and the few among the many are less frustrated. But these things often creep in for a moment, which come not from valor, but happen by chance. Wherefore there is nothing, fellow soldiers, that ought to trouble you: because it was not through any weakness of your hands, nor through the courage of the Jews, that matters were turned about, but the difficulty of the terrain was an impediment to us for victory, to them a means of delay. Nor is there anything that can be found fault with, except an unadvised and unbelievable rush. For while you followed them up to the higher parts of the city, and rushed into their houses, you yourselves entangled yourselves in dangers. Whose lodgings you took over, their dangers you took on. You held the city; who compelled you to go further inward?

The enemy ought to have come down to you, not you, immoderate for the sake of victory, unmindful of life and safety, to press on. Restore therefore your spirits, and from your own valor presume not only consolation, but also, what is more, vengeance: you will certainly have me as your leader in the fight. Be ready in arms, in spirit: let dangers make you braver, not more fearful: it is easy to redress an injury, if valor recognizes itself.

Having said these things, he kindled the courage of the soldiers, who as they repaired the rampart, many withdrew themselves from the siege through the steep places. For already both scarcity of food was pressing upon them, and they judged that the broken wall would give way to the siege-engines. There was moreover but one spring within the city, and it too was close to the walls, a circumstance which put them into the greatest fear, so that very many slipped away. But those who thought they must remain fought on stubbornly. Meanwhile the Romans, digging beneath a very high tower, undermined it with the utmost force. By this collapse the city was shaken, and all were thrown into confusion, dreading the ruin of the whole city. Whence Chares also, sick in body, terrified by the sound of so great a crash, gave up his life in death.

The Romans, however, though the city lay open, refrained from entering, until Titus entered, who, roused by grief at his father's danger, burst into the city with a few men, and inflicted the greatest slaughter upon the Jews. Only those who were in the higher places, rolling down stones, kept the Romans from approaching: they hurled darts, they shot arrows. The stones, when pushed by the Jews, rolled down easily to the slope, the missiles reached their mark, the arrows descended not without danger to those against whom they were aimed. For the Romans, casting upward against the higher parts of the mountain, the throw was ineffective, the effort vain, and dangerous to themselves; when suddenly a gust of wind arose, which turned back the arrows of the Jews, and repelled their darts. But what the Roman army hurled, it carried back upon the enemy: thus, oppressed by the very barriers of the elements and by the whirlwinds of the winds, all who were found there perished in the final destruction of the captured city.

Only four thousand were killed by the Romans: we have learned that five thousand perished by falling headlong: no age was granted mercy.

Giscala alone of the regions of Galilee had not yet turned the enemy against itself, since the more peaceable natures of its inhabitants, as being a rustic people content with their own produce, contributed nothing toward war; but through the association of many who practiced brigandage as their way of life, even the pursuits of the milder folk were corrupted by depraved habits. There was besides a fickle man named John, a native, a plague upon the people, second to none of the crafty in guile, knowing no equal in wickedness, in whom the disposition to do harm had never been lacking, though for a while poverty had been a hindrance to the exercise of his iniquity.

Yet what I should determine, I do not clearly know, whether want concealed him or restrained him: cunning in deceit, a craftsman of trickery, skilled in lies, seeking trust and adopting cruelty under a composed appearance, one who thought deceit a virtue and reckoned it a mark of refinement, and who ensnared his dearest friends: prompt to conspire, vehement to dare, keen to accomplish, a disturber in leisure, a deserter in danger, accustomed to brigandage, insolent in war, one who, when he could not persecute openly, nevertheless sowed the seeds for preparing his domination. To this man, then, belonged a restless spirit, ready audacity, which his advancing fortunes and resources nourished for uniting a band of the lost. Hence, when Vespasian learned that the people of the aforesaid city were being stirred to war by his faction, in order not to exhaust the whole army, he sent his son Titus with a thousand horsemen, with whom as escort he approached the city.

But when he saw the walls thronged with people, he said he marveled that they should follow the example of those by whose destruction they ought rather to have come to their senses. But granting that at first they had some presumption to make trial of, what hope could the destruction of all offer? Pardonable, indeed, might be the hope of liberty at the beginning; but perseverance in final and desperate circumstances is inexorable. For those who are not bent by the example of humanity, nor by earnest admonition of words; against them, not words but arms are necessary. You trust in your walls, as though they had protected you against the might of the Romans. What else can those who are shut in display, those who are hemmed about put forward, except that they are bold in captivity? No one had the power to speak: for a band of plunderers had seized the whole circuit of the walls: John took care that no one should invite the Romans to familiar conference.

And so he himself seized the report of the conversation for himself, saying: that he gladly undertook treatment of matters of common concern, nor did he shun the experience of trial, if perchance he might persuade what was useful to them, or if what was reported should be acquiesced in: but that he was forbidden by ancestral law, since the sacred day of the week remained, to treat of terms of peace. For as it was forbidden to take up arms, so also it was unlawful to deliberate about peace on feast days. For indeed, even to decide a matter merely by words was a sacrilege to those who were compelled, nor unpunished for those who compelled it. He asked for the indulgence of a single day; so small a delay would in no way be a hindrance.

For with the enemy surrounding them, no free escape was open to those shut in: the choice of peace was offered to him, and with so equal an option fear could be of no harm: he ought not meanwhile to be pressed toward counsels of peace, for which it was a matter of religion not to transgress ancestral law: but it befitted so liberal an offer of peace, that he who beyond hope freely offered peace should, lest anyone be endangered, reserve his own laws even for those about to escape. Titus, thinking these things alleged without guile, sounded the retreat, and recalled from the walls those whom he had led with him. Thus John, having gained opportunity of flight, departed in the dead of night with very many others: women also followed him as he set out. But the further the men advanced, the more women and little ones were left behind, and, deserted by their own, the women watched the road in fear.

And when now they lost sight of their own husbands, they thought the enemy was at hand, trembling at every sound. If anyone ran up, they wretchedly turned about, trembling that they themselves were being sought, that chains were being cast upon them, as though those who were feared were already present. Titus, accordingly, as agreed, when now the sun had risen, hastened with his army to the city: the gates are opened: the people go forth with exultation, and receive the Romans with joy and gladness: rejoicing that the pestilent man was absent, that he had fled by night, that free opportunity had been given to them: they begged pardon, that his flight might not be imputed to them as fraud, since they could not have held him without their own destruction. He, consoled by the delay of vengeance through the speed of the completed business, sent very many at once to seize John, if perchance they might overtake him.

He himself, entering the city, content to have visited the disturbers of the peace with threats rather than punishment, granted pardon to all, lest anyone, roused by hatred or by domestic affairs, should draw the innocent into odium, and assail them with the atrocity of a most grievous charge: since it is much more tolerable to leave what is uncertain to the fear of a shared conscience, than to condemn the innocent. For fear often corrects the guilty: but the punishment of the innocent admits of no remedy of correction. John, therefore, was not found by those whom Titus had sent: but those who followed him, little ones and women, were found, and about two thousand were killed, while three thousand of weak age and sex, when the fill of killing was satisfied, were condemned to captivity. He assigned a military garrison to the city. And so all Galilee was brought under Roman power.

For Mount Tabor also, whose height is thirty stadia, while its summit itself lies level for twenty-three stadia, being deserted by some for lack of water, was surrendered to the Romans by others who begged pardon: although also by the valor and diligence of Placidus, to whom this business had been committed by Vespasian, the whole crowd of vagabonds, while following him as he withdrew and, by art, pressing hard upon his retreating steps, being surrounded in the midst of the plain, lost its refuge, and found its doom.

Thus far it has been permitted to wander about, while, fleeing the contagions of the holy temple built by our ancestors and of the sacred law, we occupy our pen with other cities: but now it is time that we approach what was done at Jerusalem, relying not on our own talent, but lest we should seem to have denied the service of our grief to the ancestral law and ancient worship: though in those things there was but a shadow, not the truth, yet the shadow marks out the footprints of the truth. For a shadow has the outlines of a picture, but not its brightness, nor is it brought to the perfection of a finished hand, but it expresses to those who look carefully what is to come: and therefore the figure delights less, but the grace entices more. Whence it pleased the Arbiter of all things to abolish the old and establish the new; that those who through the straits of unbelief did not follow the images might follow the truth.

Fleeing, as we said above, from the regions of Galilee, John betook himself to the city of Jerusalem; and, like a certain plague, infected the minds of very many, since from diverse regions the chiefs of crimes flowed together there as into a sewer. This indeed was for that city the greater cause of destruction, that the lost, wherever they brought their crimes, flocked together there in great numbers, either because they believed they would be safer there, or because they thought they would be reckoned more insolent for heaping up crimes, and were entrusted with faith. They were received, therefore, indiscriminately, as if they came to defend the pious love of the temple. This was the first stain of evils.

From this the meekness of the few was oppressed by the insolence of the many: from this they proceeded to slaughters, since they spared others' property the less: from this they conspired that the solemnities of the law should be neglected, and the priesthoods transferred from the good to the wicked, a thing which men foreign not only to pious worship but to the very knowledge of the law did not know to be holy. First men of royal lineage who resisted were bound, so that others might yield through fear: then they were slain; and, that the crime might be veiled, they falsely pretended that those whom they had put to death without trial had been killed after sicarii were sent into the prison, and after a charge of treachery had been fabricated against them. All were thus dragged along by fear, since men so powerful and innocent as Antipas, Lebias, and Phoras had been so easily overwhelmed, so that they no longer dared to resist.

Hence it proceeded so far, that they substituted ignoble and unworthy men as chief priests: so that those whom no merit favored toward earning honor should, contrary to their own desert, obtain priesthoods, and be subjected to the will of those who conferred all wickedness: but when priestly men opposed, and especially Ananus, senior to the rest, lest the prerogative of the highest name should be given by favor, they demanded that the chief priest be created by lot, in which nothing of favor, but the outcome of the lot, might be reckoned to be committed to divine judgment. And indeed they pretended the ancient custom, by which it was the practice that those to be substituted in the chief priesthood should be called by lot: but they were manifestly working the dissolution of the law. For whereas the law of priestly succession chose men by lot, they, for appearance's sake, set up one from the priestly tribes, present, named Enachus, and ordered him to be brought to the lot.

Then a certain Phanias came out by lot, son of Samuel, a grey-haired man, to whom not only did no succession derived through the chief priests apply, but not even any knowledge of the priestly office, because he lived in the country: and therefore he was ignorant that he was chief priest. Finally, dragged in from the fields, and reluctant, another character as it were is imposed upon him, as on a stage; he is also clothed in the venerable garment of the sacred vestments. He is instructed at the time as to what he ought to do. Thus by the outcome of the lot the wickedness of the seditious was exposed, so that the function of so great a priesthood was brought down to an ignorant rustic. But to them the circumvention of the ancient solemnity was a mockery, to the priests a grief: who wept and groaned that the law was mocked by the lost. They, however, relying on the authority of piety and the indignation of the good, gathered themselves together, and rushed upon the disturbers.

But those, since they differed both in cause and in number, fleeing to the temple as to a citadel, established for themselves as it were a certain fortress, to repel the multitude of the assailing people. And at first, stationed before the doors of the temple and in the vestibule itself, they fought against the people: if anyone was wounded, he sought the interior of the temple, pouring out his blood there upon the inner threshold, and wiping his more grievously wounded flesh and the flaps of the gaping wound on the pavements stained with blood, they were tended with those garments which it was not lawful for them to touch. There was war within the city, war between citizens, war before the temple: not even reverencing this, the brigands, when more urgently pressed by the people, withdrew into the very temple itself, and forthwith closed the doors.

By this obstacle Ananus was checked; lest he should seem to bring war upon the temple, and to burst open the doors of the temple consecrated by the religion of the ancestors, he turned back the onrush of the populace, and stationed six thousand men in the porticoes, who, armed, should stand guard, keeping a careful watch. Gradually, however, he softened his resolve, so that peace might be consulted, with this concern especially, lest the blood of citizens should defile the temple: he was persuaded also that a legation should be sent, as mediator of peace, that the internal war might be laid down. John is admitted to carry out the legation, a man of suspected loyalty and inflamed with desire for gaining power: an oath is required of him: he does not refuse, lest he should suffer the penalty of perjury, if he had refused. He pretended to favor the people, in order to deceive them. What more?

He goes forth, prefaces a few words about peace, but adds more as an incitement to war: saying that under the name of peace war was concealed, that ambushes lay hidden, that Ananus was betraying the city to the Romans, so that the solemnity of the ancients might be dissolved, the precepts of the law abrogated, contriving all things from the opposite side; and casting the odium onto the chief priest for those things which he himself was devising. Cunningly also he incited those whom he knew to be the leaders and chiefs of the faction among those who were shut in, asserting that they would appear to yield through fear of death, since Ananus had specifically devised their destruction: that he had come to reveal the fraud. That reinforcements should be sought promptly, before punishment should be demanded of them. What more? The mediator of peace kindled war. Men are chosen to ask the Idumeans to battle: a fickle race, restless, insolent, prone to discords, rejoicing in changes of affairs, improvident of danger, headlong to battle.

And so without delay, being persuaded, they come, twenty thousand men gather together, as being intent on no cultivation of lands, but prepared for brigandage. Nor could the arrival of the Idumeans remain hidden from Ananus. Accordingly he orders the gate to be closed, lest they should enter with tumult: but if it could be done, that they should learn the truth, and renounce the war.

So the chief priests, mounting the wall, addressed the Idumaeans from the tower: it was a matter of the greatest wonder to them, that men so quickly ensnared by lies should pursue with arms causes which they had not yet even come to know: whereas they ought first to have been arbiters of the business, before being combatants in war, and to have learned the merits of the case before taking up arms; and arms against men of their own race, their own worship, their own solemn observance, an injury inflicted on none more than on the Idumaeans, who were being incited to share in crimes so grave. For what else was being demanded of them but parricide against fellow-citizens, sacrilege against the temple? Different pursuits and different characters, they said, were not wont to agree together. For likeness of character makes a fellowship of will, and binds kindred pursuits to one another.

Most wicked men, who carried on brigandage as their trade, had presumed to summon the Idumaeans as their allies—men so far removed from the purpose of those who invited them, that the former had brought war upon their own homeland, while the latter had been entreated as though to come and defend a foreign city. You have nothing in common, they said, guiltless men, with robbers; nothing in common, sober men, with those who make themselves drunk—and would that it were the drunkenness of wine, and not of madness! For once they have gorged themselves with crimes, squandering their own inheritances, they plunder those of others; and what was ill gotten they dissipate more wickedly still, and pour out more shamefully. There is no limit to their rapine, because there is no measure to their gluttony.

When they have drenched themselves with wine and filled themselves with drunkenness, they belch forth the surfeit of public affairs, that they may again grow drunk on our blood, and mock the sacred religion which has ever been an object of veneration and reverence to you. Flee, therefore, these parricidal gatherings, abandon these sacrilegious ventures, forsake the councils of brigands. You were summoned to share in crime; you come as a remedy for your homeland. We see a most distinguished people, who ought rightly to have come summoned by public counsel, to bring aid against enemies to that most excellent city of the Jews, which is held to be the metropolis of the whole nation. But even though we failed to make this request, while we hoped for peace, and wished rather to press you swiftly—we who offered peace to the instigators of war—yet since you have come as though by divine appointment, take counsel together, and set yourselves up as arbiters between the two sides.

Inquire whence the beginnings of this tumult arose, who sounded the trumpet of war for a peaceful city, who shed the blood of the most excellent citizens, by whose authority punishment was exacted upon the uncondemned: who were the ones who brought ruin upon us even before the Romans—while we were preparing war against the latter, we were already suffering the former as enemies. Whose favor, then, is suspect in dealing with the Romans—that of those who avenge the Romans, or that of those who repel the Romans? These things, surely, are graver for us than battles with the Romans; for by the latter we die for liberty, but by the former we are butchered as though for crime. Innocent men are falsely charged with the crime of treachery, and after death the calumny is contrived—though inquiry ought properly to precede punishment, not punishment inquiry. For what does it profit the dead to be acquitted, when he now owes nothing to judgment?

Yet we have accepted even a lot such as this, that after slaughter inquiry be made into innocence; and gladly we plead before you also the case of our own and of the dead's integrity—you who stand armed on behalf of our adversaries. So utterly lacking in proofs are the calumniators that they bear a graver charge even before you, who believed so quickly; for a good judge grieves to find himself hedged about with lies, and is more hostile to the deceiver than eager against him, because he judges that he must avenge the rashness by which he was driven to believe falsehoods. Therefore keep for us an impartial examination, and gather the truth not from the twisting of words, but from the sequence of events. First of all, why should we betray our homeland to the Romans, whom we were able—and perhaps it was fitting—not to provoke, so that we might not rouse the conquerors of all nations? But this is not now a matter for present debate.

It was for an earlier time to choose what course to follow; now we must fall for liberty, for it is better to die for one's country. It would have been more fitting, before the war, to prefer peace to death; but since war is now upon our necks, since many are already captured by their own brothers, others slain, others grieving over the dead, groaning over the bound—a free death is rather to be chosen than a life of captivity. Yet it remains for those about to die to clear away the infamy of a false charge of treachery. Before you, Idumaeans, we plead our case: let the accomplices be produced, let the interpreters of the messages be brought forward. If they hold proof, let the avengers produce it; if the accusers hold none, and charge us out of vain suspicions which they themselves have contrived, they ought not to accuse what they cannot prove.

But because they dare not accuse, they wish rather to spread rumor among the crowd; and therefore they rush to war, lest they be called to judgment. For in war, fury is satisfied; in peace, the examination of truth. We are here: behold, we offer ourselves as volunteers for the first punishments, if only some accuser will come forward; or if the people's hatred is being wrongly directed, inquire more diligently what counsel was taken in the public assembly. Was it not that armed ranks might be prepared for war, or that each man might aid his country for liberty's sake? Against the robbers themselves, surely, what was deliberated, except that peace might be reached? The grief of individuals had exasperated the public indignation—the blood of the innocent, the groaning of women, the violation of ancestral ordinances; the groan of all resounded, because each feared the like for himself.

Priesthoods were being conferred on the most unworthy; they began to be sought by shouting; those men struck the people with stones, slew them with weapons; public grief blazed forth; they set up in the temple lairs for robbers. And so a place revered even by the nations, and the dwelling-place of holiness, has become the meeting-house of brigands; and where from every part of the earth men flocked together for the worship of the festal celebration, there are now certain dens of wild beasts, dripping with human blood. It is lawful for us to seek these things, even armed, apart from the law of war. Yet there has often been judgment even amid arms, and justice has laid down the instruments of war, and the sentence of equity has restrained the tumults. You may turn these arms, which you took up for overthrow, to the defense of the city. You may also enter without arms, hear and inquire into everything: if you find anything remiss against the enemy, count it treachery.

But if you are unwilling to produce either avengers or arbiters, why do you wonder that the gates are not opened to armed men? These gates are not closed against kinsmen, but against arms. Lay down war, and the gates will stand open.

When the priests had spoken these things, and especially Jesus, elder than the rest, yet ranking after Ananus who held the second place, the Idumaeans grew indignant that they were not at once received into the city. Simon, one of the leaders of the Idumaeans, said: It is no wonder if the citizens rage and keep shut in those who have closed the gates to an allied nation, and do not suffer their own comrades and partners to enter; they speak to us from the wall, and repel as though we were adversaries, from the walls, those whom they held as friends. Who can doubt that they are preparing to receive the Romans, and perhaps to crown the gates, when the Romans shall enter? What greater injury could there be? Surely this city is wont to lie open to all men for the sake of worship and observance; to us alone it is shut, as though we were enemies; we alone are disowned, we alone are repelled.

They pretend to seek our judgment—we, whom they did not even judge worthy of the threshold of the city. Let what they have done against those men remain hidden; of our own injury we ourselves are witnesses and judges. We perceive what those shut in are suffering, when we are ordered to lay down our arms: and can it be believed that the verdict is awaited of those whose good faith is itself suspect? Let us hasten, therefore, to rescue those shut in, for whom the temple has been made a prison, lest they be kept until the arrival of the Roman army, and be handed over as captives to Vespasian. Let us lift the siege from the temple, let us remove those foulest guards, who allow no one even to go out to relieve himself. If anyone wishes to bring food to those shut in, he is prevented; if anyone wishes to go out, he is dragged off to death: the observance of religion has been made a crime.

Hearing this, John yielded, considering that it was in vain to resist against the adverse will of God—since hostile bands resounded both within and without, and the city was being besieged from two sides at once. The Idumaeans were fuming at being shut out. Those settled in the temple were plotting how they might join themselves to the Idumaeans; fear gnawed at these, lest the Idumaeans should depart before the deed was accomplished; shame wrung from the latter their resolve to withdraw. And already distrust had almost stolen upon them, when suddenly in the night an unbearable storm arises, a black tempest; the winds roar, the sky bristles, a great downpour of rain is poured out, terrible flashes of lightning, monstrous thunders, the roaring of the earth, so that the world was thought to be dissolving. Who would believe that this did more harm to those within the city than to those living outside it?

Since surely the former were protected by roofs, the latter exposed to the rains; but the fear of harm terrified more than the harm itself. In the end, those who had no shelter of roofs covered themselves with their shields, remaining at their post, not scattering; while those others, each dispersed about their own homes, gave the opportunity for the gates to be opened by those who were within the temple. Yet the people's opinion was divided and uncertain. Some thought that the Most High God, indignant at the Idumaeans, had stirred up the storms, because they had come armed against their own kindred; Ananus and the deeper minds among the elders conjectured that the Idumaeans would be roused all the more by this injury to the destruction of their allies.

In the end, Ananus, more anxious than on other nights, that night, undone not by weariness of body but rather by despair of spirit, yielded to circumstances now turning against him, and to the storms of the world that fought for his own ruin; nor did he think the watches should be visited again, as though granting license to slip away, according to each man's own judgment. Seizing this occasion, those who had taken refuge in the temple rose up and cut the bars of the gates. The crashing of the sky aided them, so that the sound of the bolts was not heard, nor the tumult of those going out. Then, coming to the wall, they unbarred the gate nearest to the gatherings of the Idumaeans. That would have been the last day for the whole people, had they not thought to direct their signal first to the temple rather than to the city.

But because those who were kept shut within the temple, fearing for themselves lest, once the entry of the Idumaeans became known, an attack of the surrounding populace should be made upon them, demanding vengeance as men about to die, they asked that they themselves be freed from disaster first; then afterward, once they had been set free and their forces joined, they might pour out upon the people. Those who had sent envoys to entreat aid for their safety turned to them, both that they might repay with this office the unlooked-for reward of the irruption, chiefly to its authors. When this proceeded according to plan, all at once poured forth from the temple as from a kind of stronghold, and with ranks spread wide, slaughtered along every street whomever they found—some asleep, others terror-stricken. Prayers availed nothing, nor tears, nor the insignia of office, nor the favor of any merits; all, indiscriminately, were butchered.

At last, seeing the bestial savagery of their pursuers, that no one was spared, some strangled themselves—by an end, as it seems to me, more pitiable even than if they had been slain by the enemy: because a voluntary death is ascribed to savagery, and the shameful knot of the noose is counted a disgrace besides. But what room was there for counsel, where the fear of torments was so great, when each man feared not death but the torments preceding death, for which death itself would be the remedy? Blood overflowed everywhere, and most of all around the temple, because there those who had guarded the men shut in were gathered together. That day there were found eight thousand five hundred men slain. Thence, turning to the city, as though to some flock of cattle, so did they slaughter men, whomever they encountered. It was a pitiable sight—within a city once revered by all, war being waged, unjust destruction being brought upon the poor and the weak.

Indeed, the young and the stronger were thrust into prison, judged fit for the faction; but with great courage many chose to undergo every torture rather than be joined to the wicked. There was no limit, no shame; so raged the frenzy of savagery. Afterward, when men to slay began to be lacking as time went on, they began to invent pretexts for those to be killed, so as to bring the accused to trial—not that justice might be sought, but that cruelty might be stirred up.

There was in the city a certain Zacharias, who hated the wicked, and did not mix himself with the criminal, a man rich in wealth—the abundance of which they supposed either effective for dissolving his faction, or a rich prey for themselves; this man they resolved to summon on a charge of treachery. But he, being clean of conscience in such matters, began to defend himself with freedom, so as not only to refute the charges laid against him, but even to establish that the accusers themselves were guilty of the gravest crimes. The matter was tried before the seventy men. All acquitted him, because nothing was brought forward that had any bearing on the crime. But those men, rushing in, cast him headlong into the depths, and threw the judges into confusion—not only with injury, but even with danger—so that by their example the rest might be warned henceforth to beware of assuming constancy in judgment against their will.

Yet again, lest anyone be acquitted, they themselves, the executors of their own wrath, put to death without trial whomever they pleased. Gorgon was slain, a man pleasant and beloved; Niger the Perean, who had been chosen among the defenders of Judaea, for the maintaining of the whole cause, a warrior, a man who bore even the scars of his wounds as marks of valor, was seized for death; and when he saw himself being led outside the city, he began to beg no longer for his life, but for burial. And not even to this most pitiable request did he receive an answer befitting mercy. Calumnies were fabricated: whoever ransomed himself was innocent; whoever offered no money was struck down as guilty.

While these things were being done at Jerusalem, Vespasian meanwhile was subduing other parts of the Jewish nation. There came to him news of what sedition was raging at Jerusalem, what deaths they had inflicted upon themselves in domestic battles, what punishments had been exacted from citizens by citizens: many urged him to march thither, lest anything be taken away from the Roman triumph and from his own glory. But he, a moderate and provident man, who reckoned not what might seem convenient by the common estimation, but what a deeper counsel judged expedient for the highest interest, began to answer those who urged this: That the commonwealth is not always helped by battles, but that praise is very often won even with arms laid aside, and the debt owed to one's country is paid. What does it matter how the enemy is conquered, by our sword or by his own? Except that by his own he is laid low without incurring Roman odium.

For they cannot complain of us, since they have wounded themselves; and at the same time they show how just were the wars we waged against them, since they do not even spare themselves: this vengeance seems to come from heaven, that those who provoked the Romans should rage in madness against themselves. But if anyone claims that something is taken away from our glory, let him know that a remedy accompanied by silence often outweighs a battle accompanied by danger. In short, our own Maximus broke Hannibal more by delaying than by fighting. Although the Scipios subdued Africa, yet the victory in wars is common with many; to Maximus alone was it given that by delaying he restored the commonwealth. It is therefore a greater thing to have preserved the Roman empire than to have extended it. Yet let us equalize the merits of the virtues. No smaller, certainly, are the contrivances of wisdom in war itself, than the distinguished deeds of courage.

Let them perish, then, by their own arms: nothing is diminished from our praise, and very much is added to our victory. They do not know how to spare their own people, whom we spare. What if, should we begin to press upon them, they perchance come to their senses among themselves and return to harmony? This I do not fear, but I put it forward against your opinion: or if the sedition should persist, let it appear that they themselves stormed themselves, that the Roman army did nothing, that our hands were idle, that the victory was prepared not by our valor but by the enemy's mutual slaughter. Therefore this is the more prudent counsel, that in our absence they rage to their own destruction, lest anyone think them more harassed by our factions than by their own. Then shall we approach more advantageously, when the victor who remains shall join our triumph. Let those who flee their own people come to us; let those whom the plague of their own has driven out find safety with us.

Nor did the expectation deceive Vespasian: for those who were able to ransom themselves with money to be released fled to the Romans. All the roads and paths were filled with those slipping away: the rich were released, the poor, who lacked money for ransom, were killed. Many also feared ambushes and robberies outside the city, especially the poor who lacked an escort. Since danger equally threatened, whether abroad or at home, ruinous either way, yet to most, because of the hope of a paternal burial, death among their own was reckoned more tolerable.

When there had been the greatest slaughter of the peoples, fear spread among all, and made all subject to the faction. John, not content to exercise power in common with the leaders of the faction, began to aspire to tyranny, and could not endure an equal. So he set about destroying the decrees of others: holding nothing valid except what pleased himself: and gradually gathering to himself a bodyguard: skilled in deceit, he circumvented whomever he wished by fraud, bound men by money, terrified them by power—by which arts he had associated very many to himself. On the other hand, there were not lacking those who, even at dangerous cost, refused servitude, especially since, being accustomed to rule, they could not endure servitude. Thus they reckoned that in one city there were three kinds of destructive calamities: tyrannies, war, sedition—each one of which would destroy not one but many cities. Yet of the three, war was the lighter; and a just enemy seemed more tolerable than a tyrant or a faction.

To these was added a fourth kind, of assassins, who, seeing the city occupied by tyrannical upheavals or the tumults of sedition, plundered all the neighboring country, and carried off everything. Women and little ones who could not endure the hardship of travel, whether by reason of sex or age, they put to death. Thus seven hundred in number were slain: grain was gathered into the strongholds: they rushed upon fields, cities, temples, drove off plunder: no occasion for killing was let pass: under the guise of a marching band they stirred up brigandage, more numerous than the practice of brigandage required. They embittered the war with the savagery of brigandage, without pardon of surrender or the indulgence of reception.

Vespasian was therefore asked to come as a remedy, by those from whom destruction was feared. He marched to Gadara, where there were very many wealthy men who, for the sake of their patrimony, feared more and more the ambushes and incursions of the robbers; and therefore had secretly sent to Vespasian that he should approach them, so that the city might be rescued from the robbers. The Roman army arrived, and the Gadarenes, seeing it, had a wish to take refuge with it; but by what means this might not prove ruinous to themselves, they could not discover, lest the faction should rise up against those departing, and destroy them all.

Nevertheless it did not escape notice that Vespasian had been invited by an embassy of the Gadarenes, of which embassy the man complicit, as being the leading man of the city, named Dolesus, was known: him they seized and killed; and having avenged the injury, and gone out of the city, they betook themselves to hidden and more fortified places; Gadara was handed over to the Romans: with immense applause Vespasian was received. He immediately sent Placidus to pursue those who had fled; he himself returned to Caesarea.

Placidus, having sent five hundred cavalry ahead, pursuing the fugitives, forced them to withdraw into the nearest village: in which, finding a company of chosen young men, they took the boldness to rise up against the Romans. This turned to their disaster. For the cavalry surrounded them, and, shut out from the village, they were cut down without any hindrance. And while some, crowded together, tried to retreat, they were slaughtered before the thresholds of the gates. The mass heaped up from the corpses of the slain had equaled the height of the walls. The Romans pierced some with arrows, wounded others with various missiles: at last they stormed the stronghold, and there all, except those who had the chance to slip away, were killed. The others, fleeing, exaggerated in their own accounts the immense fame of Roman valor, saying that the bodies seemed to them larger than human, and that there was no confidence of resisting anyone against the invincible.

Whence all, terrified, fled at once; and not only the neighboring and bordering places, but even the city of Jericho, which because of the multitude of its inhabitants had nourished the hope of the rest, was abandoned. Placidus, with matters flowing according to his wish, pursued these also with his cavalry, striking down some in close ranks, others scattered, as far as the river Jordan: he also found a very great number hindered at the bank of the river in crossing, because that river at that time, swollen by rains, or by melted snows, happened to have risen. But they, when they saw the Romans approaching, prepared themselves, and crowded together at the river's edge.

Necessity, with the aid of flight cut off, turned into a remedy in their own hands, and having made an assault, many charged against the fewer horsemen: these, by known art and by the old custom of military practice, riding between them, began to cut apart the enemy's wedge, dissolve their masses, press the weary, pursue those who yielded: hence some were killed by the enemy's sword, others by their own, since, being crowded together into one mass and dashed against each other, they had rushed upon themselves. Others rushed into the river, who by their own headlong fall, entangled one with another, were drowned. Very many also, reckoning that they could get across, gave themselves to the river. Those who had advanced a little were swallowed by the force of the whirlpools, or swept away by the current's blows.

And if any who by skill in swimming had gotten above the water, or had suspended themselves beneath the flowing stream, either entangled by the branches of trees which were carried along by the river, or crushed by the very tree-trunks, laid down their life in the river. Often too an unskilled swimmer, when he had seized hold of one who was swimming, held on, that he himself might likewise escape, and wearied the one bound in his arms, until both, submerged, became the destruction of each other. But if any, being carried down by the current, was thought about to escape, he was assailed by arrows, and suddenly, thrown backward, with the oarage of his arms ceasing, perished. There were also some who, not knowing how to swim, seeking a death free of pain, cast themselves voluntarily into the river from the raised bank.

Others, entering by the sandy shore, sank down as their footing gave way beneath them; very many too, meeting slippery rounded stones or shallow places, wavering with unsteady step, were overwhelmed by the following current. Thirteen thousand were slain by the sword: but an innumerable multitude was consumed by the river, and vast booty was gained of flocks of sheep, and of camels and asses and oxen; and although this slaughter of men was very great, yet it was then reckoned even greater, because not only was the whole region filled with human corpses (since scattered and wandering people, wherever found, were killed), but also because the Jordan itself, blocked by the bodies of the dead, could not direct its own course. The Lake Asphaltites, too, changed the appearance of its nature with the blood and entrails of the dead, into which everything that the Jordan had drawn was carried. In sum, ninety-two thousand two hundred Jews were reckoned to have perished that day, by only five hundred cavalry and three thousand infantry.

Placidus, advancing also to the further regions, restored to the Roman empire Abila and Juliad and Betesmon, and all the villages of that region as far as Lake Asphaltites. He also placed soldiers on boats, by whom all who had fled into that lake were killed.

Thus all these places, as far as Macherus, were recovered: Vespasian, however, awaited the time for battle, when he might assail the metropolis of all Judaea with the Roman army: meanwhile, while he was occupied with the affairs entrusted to him, news came of new disturbances arising from the Gallic provinces, because certain powerful men of the Roman military had revolted from Nero. Having learned this, wishing—having finished the tumult of wars in the east—to relieve the danger of civil wars and of the whole highest interest of the entire Roman empire, so that by news of favorable events he might either check or forestall all the disturbances of Italy; as soon as the harsh winter was tempered by the beginning of spring, he set out with the greater part of the army from Caesarea. A city called Antipatris received him.

Proceeding thence, he burned villages, killed those foreigners whom he found; and especially whatever he encountered near the Idumaeans he laid waste; because that restless race of men was more friendly to wars than to ease or quiet. He also crushed with the greatest slaughter two villages of Idumaea, Ligarus and Capartor, and their inhabitants. For he killed more than ten thousand men, led away a thousand captives, drove out the remaining common people, so that he might establish there a garrison of his own men: because the mountainous parts of that region were infested with brigandage. He himself with the army returned to Amathus, which took its name from hot waters, because the vapor of the waters is said in the Syrian tongue to be called Amathus. In Greek it is called Thermae, because it has a hot spring within its walls.

Then through Samaria, near Neapolis, he made for Jericho, where Trajan met him, leading a large force, drawn from those peoples of the region of Peraea, settled beyond the Jordan, who, being conquered, had returned into Roman jurisdiction. At the news of the approaching Roman army, therefore, very many from the city of Jericho, seeing it unsafe, had betaken themselves to the mountains of the region of Jerusalem. The whole crowd of those who remained was consumed. Nor indeed was it difficult for the city to be quickly captured, since it was supported by no natural defense, and was abandoned and left destitute by its own people who were slipping away. The city is founded on a plain, over which a rather wide mountain, bare of vegetation, rises above it. For along the northern side it stretches as far as the land of the city of Scythopolis; on the southern side it is extended as far as the region of Sodom and the borders of Asphaltites.

But the soil is sickly and barren, and therefore deserted by inhabitants, because by its natural sterility it was of no use to cultivators. Opposite to this is the mountain above the Jordan, whose beginning rises from Juliad and the northern side: it itself extends toward the south as far as Sobaros, bordering on Arabia Petraea, where there is also a mountain called by the ancient usage the Iron Mountain. Between these two mountains lies a plain, which, because of its size, since it extends over many spaces (by ancient usage), the inhabitants called the Great Plain, whose length is two hundred and thirty stadia, its breadth a hundred twenty. Its beginning is from the village of Gennabar, its end as far as Lake Asphaltites. The Jordan cuts through the middle of this plain, not only without hindrance but even with added grace, its banks growing green from the river's alluvium, and, following it, Asphaltites and Tiberias, two lakes from one spring, and each of different quality.

For the taste of the one water is salty and its use sterile; but that of Tiberias is sweet and fertile. In the days of summer, indeed, an excessive vapor boils up through the spaces of the plain, whence, with the fault of excessive dryness taking hold, and the air made more corrupt by the dry soil, it brings about pitiable illnesses for the inhabitants. For all things are dry except along the borders of the river. In the more remote parts, indeed, even the fruit of the trees grows sickly; since both the abundance is richer, and the fruit of the palms more excellent, which grows above the banks of the river Jordan, while elsewhere it is far more meager.

There is also near the city of Jericho an abundant spring, and one indeed more copious for drinking, richer for irrigation, which Joshua the son of Nun, a Hebrew by nation, mighty of hand, first snatched from the Chananite people. This was at the beginning held to be rather corrupt and barren for producing, and of little wholesomeness for those who drank of it.

Whence Elisha the prophet, being asked by the inhabitants—he who was also the disciple of Elijah, and a successor by no means unworthy of so great a master—that he might leave behind, for the places he had visited, some reward for his hospitality, and might relieve the corruption of the waters, gave a remedy, as the ancient Scripture of Kings teaches, ordering that an earthen vessel with salt be brought to him; and receiving it, he cast the salt into the spring, and said: I have healed these waters, and there shall be no more death from them, nor barrenness from them: and the waters were healed, according to the word, he says, of the prophet Elisha. From that infusion, then, of blessed salt the waters were tempered, and the mouth of the spring was opened, and the channels of the waters were sanctified, so that the spring of the veins might pour forth sweeter drink, and all that bitterness of the waters might grow sweet; the earth might yield richer fruits.

Also the best succession for begetting offspring might supply an ample abundance of posterity, nor might the generative water fail: since divine grace, for the faithful zeal of the just, had breathed favor through the blessings of so great a prophet. Thus the resounding of the heavenly oracle, in answer to the prophet's prayers, turned the nature of the waters, and at once drove away barrenness, and poured in fertility. There the generations of men began to multiply, and the fruits of the earth, and the sap of the waters—before barren and bitter, wont to destroy the crops, and to twist the sorrowful mouths of those who drank—began to pour fertility into the soil, and sweetness for those who drank, so that, should it happen to be cultivated only briefly, it profits more than where it has irrigated longer.

For this is a new grace, that the increase should be more abundant where the use is less: and where anyone has made greater use of it, there the fruit is less: and thereby it waters more than other springs, because even a small amount of it abounds unto fruitfulness. Finally, a plain lies about it, extending seventy stadia in length, twenty in breadth. In it you may behold the wondrous charm of gardens, various kinds of palms, and such sweetness of dates that you would think honey flows from them, not inferior to other kinds. There too are the most excellent broods of bees: nor is it a wonder, where, breathing upon such varied flowers, they pour forth the sweet odors of paradise. There the balsam-gum is produced. Which we mention with this addition, because the farmers cut the twigs only as far as the bark, those in which the balsam is produced, so that through those hollows the moisture, distilling little by little, may collect itself. Now a hollow is called in Greek ὀπή.

There, they say, the cypress-gum and the myrobalan are born, and other things of this kind, which are by no means found in other places. The water is like that of other springs, yet there more excellent, cold in summer, warm in winter. The air is milder, so that in the depth of winter the inhabitants use linen garments as their clothing.

Let us now look at the quality of the lake Asphaltites. For it is better to occupy one's pen with the descriptions of ancient places, or with the marvel of the other elements, than with the seditions of the Jews. For those crimes exasperate the mind; these, while being recounted, soothe the spirit, and call it back to the knowledge of ancient history. But it is dear to us, whose talent is rather uncultivated, to retrace the footsteps of the fathers returning from Egypt even into the land of promise, so that if perchance our writings should come into anyone's hands, he may not read our own words, but read again those of the fathers. For it is sweet to dwell among the habitations of our forebears, and to recall to memory the sayings and deeds of the ancients, and to cling to their grace.

But now, whether we express the nature or the quality of the waters, lest our pen too be cast into that lake, from which whatever things you might think should sink, it is nevertheless the opinion that living things spring back up: and however violently dashed down, are at once thrown off. The water itself is bitter and barren, receiving no kinds of living things. Finally, it suffers neither fish, nor birds accustomed to waters and fond of diving. They say a lit lamp floats on its waters, and, once extinguished, sinks without any further behavior; and although a living thing be plunged in by art, it is difficult for it to stay in the depths. Finally, they say that Vespasian ordered men ignorant of swimming to be thrown into the depths with hands bound, and that all of them at once floated up, as though lifted by some breath of wind, and driven back to the surface with great force, springing up again.

Many have supposed many fabulous things about this lake, which, since we have no experience of the truth of the matter, it was never our purpose to set forth. That the water changes color three times a day, and variously reflects the sun's rays, we have not thought fit to set down as true, since the water of this lake is more dusky than other waters, and bears a likeness as it were of something scorched. Certainly if it also shines back at the sun's ray, this is nothing new, nor to be set forth as though a marvel, since this is common to all waters. It is certain that lumps of bitumen float upon the waters with a black liquid, which those approaching in boats gather, whose task this is: the bitumen is said to cling to itself, so that it can by no means be cut with iron, or any other very sharp kind of metal. It yields, indeed, to the blood of women, by which those undergoing their monthly courses are said to be relieved.

By its touch, or by urine (as those allege who have had experience of it), it is reported to be broken apart: it is said to be useful for the joining of ships, and wholesome for men's bodies when mixed into medicines. The length of this lake extends as far as Zoara of Arabia, five hundred eighty stadia: its breadth a hundred fifty stadia, as far as the neighboring region of the Sodomites, who once inhabited a most fruitful region, abounding in fruits, and also distinguished with most splendid cities. But now those places are deserted, and burnt up by fire.

For when God had bestowed upon them all things by His gift—fields fertile in crops, and land planted with vineyards and other fruitful trees—ungrateful, and not keeping before their eyes the power of the most high God, as though He did not see all things, did not foresee all their crimes, and there were nothing that could escape or lie hidden from Him, they began thus to mingle and pollute all things with the shame of their intemperance, whereby they drew down the divine displeasure, and as the price of their crimes fire descended from heaven to burn up that region. Thus five cities were set ablaze, of which a certain shadow and likeness is seen in the ashes. The earth has burned, the waters burn, in which the remains of the heavenly fire are still recognized, and yet remain.

You may see there, to all appearance, fruits greening, clusters of grapes formed, so as to beget in onlookers a desire to eat: if you pluck them, they crumble and dissolve into ash, and stir up smoke, as though they were still burning. These things, discovered concerning the punishments of the wicked in the territory of Sodom, it was not fitting to pass over in silence. For when these have been recounted, it cannot be doubted that reward will come to the righteous.

Vespasian, then, filled up the nearby fortresses or defenses of the cities near Jerusalem, distributing among them the support of the Roman army and its allies, so that they might know all things to be against them, which before they thought would conspire with themselves for waging war against the Romans. Nevertheless, when Lucius Annius had been sent to Gerasa, he took the city by ambush: he also killed a thousand young men, who, being anticipated, had escape cut off. Very many captives were led away, and their whole patrimony was seized by the soldiers. By the general's order, whatever possessions were found were burned, and pillaging was carried on with license. The Romans laid waste the mountains and the plains, with which the city of Jerusalem was surrounded, being on fire with war on every side. Nor were the people of Jerusalem free from the sense of their own dangers, for whom all exits were blocked, lest anyone should be freed from danger by flight.

Within, an internal evil; outside, all things closed; there was neither the will to remain, nor the means of fleeing. And if any hoped for pardon by deserting to the Romans, they were prevented by their own people from going out.

Vespasian had returned to the city of Caesarea, so that from there, with all his forces gathered, he might undertake the siege of the city of Jerusalem. And a messenger arrived that Nero had been slain, in the thirteenth year of his reign, when he was already eight days into the following year. He was worthy of that punishment, who had violated not only faith by sacrilege, piety by parricide, chastity by incest, but had also entrusted the very power of the Roman empire, whose offices or affairs he had committed to the most wicked of his freedmen. For since he himself kept faith with no one, he held all men suspect: and therefore he thought that the most wicked Nymphidius and Gemellinus especially were to be trusted, whom he had made obligated to himself by a cheap condition. But even these at length shuddered at the example of his cruelty. And because he had destroyed each of those most dear to him, thinking they must guard against him, they wished to forestall what they feared.

And so, having formed a conspiracy with the rest, they deserted the parricide. For to whom was he thought likely to show mercy, who had not spared his own mother? Deserted, then, by all his own, he fled from the city with four of his freedmen. And when he saw himself pressed by the conspirators pressing upon him and by an opposing force, he withdrew secretly into a suburban estate: torn and lacerated by brambles, while he feared to be seen by anyone, lest he be betrayed: then, when he understood himself to be surrounded, lest heavy penalties be exacted of him, he prepared for himself a certain contrivance of wood, and fitted it with his own hands, with which to kill himself. And turning to his freedmen he said: "What an artist dies in me!" Thus the most bitter parricide brought upon himself an end of life worthy of his deserts, so that he who had killed his mother and his own kin did not spare even himself.

Truly a good artist of his own death, who so contrived it that he should perish in this way, lest even his death be free of his own crime.

The report of Nero's death, then, had gone ahead, after the manner of human nature: for which it is enough, once it has received what it desired, not to inquire further into the rest, but at once to spread abroad, and to send out among the common people unexamined whatever has pleased it. Nor much later, however, it became known that Galba presided over the Roman empire. Whence it was Vespasian's counsel to inquire into the new prince's judgment concerning the war with the Jews, and he sent his son Titus and King Agrippa. Titus turned back from Achaia, having learned that Galba too, in the seventh month and day of his assumed power, stripped of his insignia, had paid the penalty in the very bosom of the city, that is, in the Roman forum, and that Otho was in possession of favorable affairs and imperial success. Agrippa hastened to Rome, that he might secure favor with the new prince.

To Titus the reverence due to a father's piety seemed of greater worth than that due to princely power, since he thought that even the prince himself would not be pleased if he presented himself without consulting his father. Certainly the outcome proved it: that it was opportune for him to have returned to his father, with affairs in flux, and it uncertain which way they would incline. Finally, Vespasian too, anxious about the state of the whole Roman empire and of his homeland, suspended the war, and held to his own command, setting aside what was being done in Judea, before the care of the whole sum of things and his pious solicitude toward his homeland.

But Judea was not idle, waging a graver war among its own than against foreigners. For when the faction of John was already intolerable, there rose up besides Simon, inferior indeed in wickedness of character, but relying more on bodily form for daring every crime, and accustomed to brigandage for the practice and testing of his misdeeds. He was a citizen of Gerasa, a robust young man, whom the high priest Ananus had struck down on account of contrivances of wickedness, and having driven him from the place he inhabited, forced him to withdraw into other regions. But he, for whom there was no place among the peaceful and modest, joined himself to companies of brigands, being at first suspect even to them, lest he should ensnare them by some faction; afterward he easily insinuated himself into fellowship of their ways.

With these he laid waste the districts nearest to the fortifications, since they did not presume to seek farther regions; but, lurking as it were in pits, they set ambushes for passers-by, without any sally forth, as though content with a domestic brigandage. Simon, being of unbounded spirit, could not long endure this, and in a short time gathered for himself a band of many, promising freedom to slaves, rewards to freemen, recompense to the desperate. Thus, with very many flocking to the license of plunder, he dared to storm fortifications, to seize the peoples of cities, and was terrible to all; he prepared for himself a refuge in the village called the Wall of Ajax. And now, attended by twenty thousand armed men, he was advancing, when suddenly the people of Jerusalem, fearing his daily progress, and thinking that he would be against them if he grew any further, thought he must be cut down, and with a sudden sally attacked Simon armed.

Nor was he unwary or unprepared, open to ambush, but he received those who advanced, and routed the greater part, forcing others, put to flight in battle, to take refuge in the city.

Having engaged the Idumæans as well, he came off on equal terms, and, as though defeated, he was tormented because he had not conquered. Again, when battle had to be joined, he thought it more advantageous to try deceit, and found a willing agent of treachery. For when it was understood what he was aiming at, Jacob, one of the chiefs of the Idumæans, crafty and cunning in such matters, came secretly to Simon, and offered him the betrayal of his own country. That he might give assurance that he would circumvent all the Idumæans, and having demanded a reward for the future alliance whereby he might be foremost and most trusted with him, he promises the betrayal of them all: at a banquet friendship was sealed, and with immense promises the pact was confirmed between the two.

When Jacob returned to his own people, he began first to boast to a smaller number that he had gone and scouted out the enemy's strength, that he had seen a strong force, men experienced in war, an enormous multitude, unconquerable in battle: he brought this kind of talk gradually to the chiefs: finally he insinuated among the ranks that Simon himself was exceedingly vigorous, that he had organized his army after the manner of kings, that he kept ranks, had numbers properly distributed, had set over them capable commanders: that the Idumæans ought to take counsel for themselves, so as to find such a man a friend rather than an enemy. Surely in an engagement they would see him superior; let them yield without danger, let them beware of battle.

When he perceived that the inclinations of most had turned to his opinion, and Simon had been instructed to advance into battle line, confident of the coming dispersal of the Idumæans: he did not delay; this man, as though a standard-bearer with his own men, and as if more ready to fight, when he saw the battle tested by skirmishers, before they came to close quarters, turned his horse and gave himself to flight: his own men did the same. Thus he turned and scattered the whole line, and handed victory to Simon without a contest of war. Simon, then, having gained the triumph over so great a nation, became more insolent toward the rest, and took Hebron, an ancient city, populous, rich in wealth, sooner than was expected, and found much plunder in it, and stripped its most abundant produce.

For it is said to be the most ancient city, not only of the cities of Palestine, but of all those founded of old in Egypt as well: so that even Memphis, which is held to be most ancient, many consider to be later. There were also those who said that the father Abraham dwelt in it, after he set out from Mesopotamia of Syria and went to Egypt, and that his sons have a tomb there built of the most beautiful marble and most elegant workmanship, seven stadia from the city. A great terebinth tree is asserted to have been there since the foundation of the world. Now, however, whether it still remains is uncertain to us. Advancing thence, he laid waste territories, stormed cities, gathered peoples, attended by forty thousand armed men, and emptied everything wherever he approached, even as a friend and ally. For what place could supply food enough for so many? By the mere tread of feet, all things were trampled flat like a pavement, wherever so great a number of combatants had stood.

Nor was only whatever fruit there was carried off, as though consumed by a plague of locusts, but even afterward the trampled soil refused fruit. John was terrified because Simon's power was growing, and the allies of the whole faction were shaken. They wished him ruined, but did not dare to provoke him in war. Again they prepare an ambush, and, beset the roads, and seize his wife with her whole female retinue, and a few male attendants: they boasted, as though they had achieved complete victory, and as though they held Simon himself captive, they thought he would beg them for mercy. But he, hard, merciless, moved by no man's affection, holding nothing sacred or dear, was inflamed as though at an injury received rather than at a favor lost; and much more savagely and gravely he tortured with grievous torments those whom he found.

On many he cut off hands, whom he sent back to the enemy with mutilated bodies, that they might announce his cruelty, and intimate his threat that he would overthrow the walls, destroy the city, unless his own wife were restored to him quickly. Likewise he would cut off the hands and entrails of all who dwelt within the city, unless they took counsel in time. Thus terrified, they sent his wife back to him: whereby his fury was mitigated, and he gave those shut up within some little respite, so that he did not press the siege of the city.

Not only was Galba slain, but Otho also destroyed, while the generals of Vitellius, whom the army of Gaul had made emperor, joined battle. And at first indeed Otho seemed superior in the contest: but when the fight was renewed after a day, when Otho had learned that victory had gone to Valens and Cæcina, the companions of Vitellius, and that very many of his own had also been slain, he, stationed at Brixia, by voluntary death snatched himself from mockery, having held power for two days and only three months. So Vitellius, victorious, with the army that survived on both sides, hastened toward Rome.

Vespasian at that time, having set out from the city of Cæsarea, was laying waste Judea, subduing all the neighboring mountainous regions and fortifications. He slew those who resisted; he granted the favor of safety to those who begged for it; he put the adversaries to flight; he established his own men. Cerealis too, a general of the Roman army, with his cavalry ranged over everything, destroying some, subjecting others, driving before him columns of captives: everything around Jerusalem was being burned, so that no refuge might be left to the Jews. Thus every avenue of escape was cut off for the Jews even before the siege began. But they not only took no counsel for themselves, but even fought a domestic contest among themselves. John was the tyrant within; Simon the enemy outside the walls: who, having recovered his wife, ranging abroad a little while, having laid waste Idumæa, returned stronger, and made the walls of the city of Jerusalem resound with arms round about.

John, stationed within, was training his men for war through vices, having given authority to crimes. Passions of plunder burned hot, desires for shameful acts, outpourings of luxury, the scents of perfumes; and they curled their hair with curling-irons, painted their eyes with antimony, put on women's dress. Not only was the adornment of women affected, but also feminine softness, and the passions of illicit lusts; men practiced women's ways, made their voices effeminate, and by the looseness of their bodies dissolved their sex, cultivating their hair, whitening their faces, smoothing their cheeks with pumice, plucking their little beards, and in this dissoluteness they practiced an intolerable savagery of cruelty. In short, they walked with a broken gait, and suddenly, as momentary warriors, hiding swords concealed beneath purple cloaks, when they suddenly bared them, they tore open whatever they found. Whoever had escaped Simon was killed by John, if he had taken refuge within the city; whoever had fled John, once captured by Simon, was sacrificed before the walls. There was grave dissension.

The Idumæans sought to extinguish John's tyranny; they envied his power, and hated his cruelty. They engage against the henchmen of the tyranny, drive them off, pursue them even to the royal hall, which had been built by a kinsman of the king of Adiabene: they rush in upon the defenders, having shut them out, and seize the temple, plundering the spoils of the tyranny, since John had stored there the repository of his wealth. A grave fear had arisen, lest the Idumæans, having entered the city from the temple by night, should slay the people by the sword, and destroy the city by fire. Terrified by this fear, by common counsel, since they could not bear one tyrant, they brought in another. And John had crept into tyranny by fraud. This Simon, when asked, as though he would give a remedy of safety, brought upon the citizens a domination, upon the city a tyrant. Matthias, the chief of the priests, was sent to beg his entry.

But he proudly enough refused to rule, and, as though burdened, granted the request, that he might pour himself into the city with all his forces. They opened the gates with their own hands, to bring in the more pernicious man, while they cursed the weaker one. And so Simon, having entered as he wished, showed himself equally an enemy to all: so that both those who had called him, and those against whom his aid had been sought, he pursued all alike with common hatred. John pressed on with his own frauds, the city was in turmoil. There was a contest between John and Simon, as to which could do more harm to his own people.

At that season a rumor gained strength of civil wars in the Roman army, made manifest by the death of Galba and Otho and the rule of Vitellius, who, worse than his predecessors, had settled like dregs. Men of the old soldiery began to confer among themselves, and to bear it with indignation, that only the Praetorian legions at Rome should usurp so much, that, though they had by now grown unaccustomed to trying the dangers of wars and did not know the names of the nations that were waging war, they nevertheless themselves appointed the commander of the war, and set up in their own hand an arbiter to be chosen for Roman affairs.

Then, by such an example, the soldiers stationed in Gaul had also aspired to give the empire to Vitellius, without consulting the senate and the Roman people; that meanwhile they themselves were held like mercenaries, who followed the judgments of others: first to danger, last to honor, waging war for so long a time, while triumphs daily increased for others, they received masters from their inferiors; and not even useful ones, but the most cowardly of all, or men given over to the belly and to disgrace: that they must go to meet this and remove the injustice: that they had in Vespasian a vigorous man, whom it would be fitting for all to choose as emperor; mature in age for counsel, stronger than the younger men for fighting: that they must hasten more quickly, lest he be chosen first by others: and that to those with whom he had grown old in military service, he should be, by his triumphing, an object of contempt.

When was there a more opportune time, in which a worthy reward might be paid for his labors? That the Vitellian abyss, the disgrace of private men (I will not say emperor), the senate would not longer tolerate, nor the Roman people, that the reproach of drunkards should remain longer at the summit of an empire whose Roman resources do not suffice for its expense. For who would bear a tyrant reigning, when there is in the army one worthy to govern the Roman empire? What nations indeed would subject themselves to luxury and give themselves to vices, when the incentive of war is the sloth of the emperor; and, on the contrary, firmness of peace, valor against the enemy, sobriety in the ruler of the republic? Who would not look up, in Vespasian, though still a private man, to the glory of kingship and the authority of the Roman empire, for whom so many military numbers stand ready, and the stronger force of the whole Roman army? What do we wait for?

That, supported by our virtues, he should owe to others what makes him emperor, and that we should yield to others what is within the right of our own power? Surely if we are unwilling to honor him, let us not detract from him. Nor let us do this injustice, that by our judgment he be rejected as unworthy of empire, he to whom Vitellius is deemed worthy. Finally, since his brother and his son Domitian are in Italy, it is surely to be feared, lest he who ought long since to have been an ornament to his own, be instead a danger to them; or if they, as we suppose, should begin to press the tyrant, this might be turned to his harm, that both brother and son have rebelled, and we might begin to view as a defendant him whom we were unwilling to see as emperor. With these words the soldiers, shouting among themselves, assail Vespasian, and beg him to take up the helm of the Roman empire.

But he refused, and said he was unworthy: that an emperor had already been appointed, and that civil war must be avoided. They pressed more urgently, he resisted more persistently. At last, as he struggled against them, armed men surround him, threatening death, warning that a charge would remain against him, and grave danger, if he refused. So he yielded rather to those who pressed upon him than accepted willingly, as others are wont to seek by ambition. The soldiers urged, the generals persuaded: he took up the care before the honor, and hastened into Egypt, for he knew that the greatest resources of the Roman state were there, whence provisions might be supplied: he must seek support for himself, if he should conquer; or a refuge against Vitellius, if he thought the war should be prolonged.

There were also there two orders of military men, whom he hastened to join to himself, so that so great a city, surrounded by very many natural defenses, might remain rather in his own right than in another's, being useful enough for either outcome of the war. And therefore it seems fitting to say a few words about the situation of the places, and especially about the metropolitan city itself.

Alexander founded the city of Alexandria, upon whom, on account of his valor, was bestowed the title of "the Great" leader. It lies between Egypt and the sea like a barrier, a city without harbors, as are most of the cities of Egypt, and difficult of access from abroad, since it lies in the more remote parts of Asia. In Europe, because Egypt itself borders on the dry lands of Libya; and its southern upper regions, which mark its boundary from the Ethiopians, are Syene, and the unnavigable cataracts of the river Nile. From the east the Red Sea flows back, as far as Clitro, which place, the furthest of all lands, opens a passage through to those sailing to the Indies. Enclosed, then, on one side by the burning heats of the sun, on the other by the Indian sea, and on this side by the Egyptian sea, it rests upon land by one wall only, on the north, which leads into Syria.

All the rest is shut in on every side, and fortified by the aid of nature: yet the same defense on the northern side is divided, and open by a certain natural boundary, through which either foreign supplies are brought by sea to Egypt, or a freer use extends to the lands. The land lies stretched out in a vast extent. For between Syene and Pelusium the whole length is two thousand stadia, if the accounts are to be trusted; and from Plinthine to Pelusium likewise three thousand six hundred stadia: a region unaccustomed to rains, yet not lacking in rain, for which the irrigation of the Nile supplies spontaneous showers.

On both sides of it is the Nile, the fertility of the sky, the fecundity of the earth: it tempers the fields, enriches the soil, of use alike to sailors and farmers: these sail, those sow: the one class travels about through their own countryside by boats, the other tills with the plough while sowing, journeying without a cart. You may see homes distinct with streams and, as it were, raised up with certain lofty walls of vessels, wandering about over all the lands which the Nile flows around. For it is navigable as far as the city they call Elephantina: beyond that point the cataracts we have mentioned do not allow a ship to proceed further, not from failure of the current, but from the precipitous drops of the whole river, and from a certain collapse of the waters.

The harbor of the city, like most approaches to maritime places, is difficult of access, and far more difficult than the rest, being, as it were in the shape of a human body, roomier at the head itself and at the anchorage, narrower at the throat, where it receives the passage of the sea and of ships, to which certain aids for breathing are supplied to the harbor: where one has passed beyond the narrows and mouth of the harbor, then, as with the rest of the body's shape, so the expanse of the sea is stretched far and wide.

On the right side of the harbor there is a small island, and on it a very great tower, which the Greeks and Latins alike, from the very use of the thing, have called the Pharos, because it is seen from far off by sailors, so that before they draw near the harbor, especially at night, they may know that the neighboring land is theirs by the blazing of fires: lest, deceived by the darkness, they run upon the rocks, or be unable to make out the boundary of the entrance. There are accordingly attendants there, by whom, torches and other piles of wood being placed beneath, a fire is kindled as a kind of herald of the land, and an indicator of the harbor's throat, showing the narrows of entry, the bends of the waves, the windings of the vestibule, lest the slender keel graze the rocks, and at the very entrance strike among crags hidden by the waves.

And so the straight course must gradually be bent, lest the ship, dashed against the cut rocks, meet with danger there where escape from dangers is hoped for. For the entrance into the harbor is narrower because on the right side it is constricted by the shore, on the left by the cliffs, by which the left side of the harbor is blocked. Around the island too, massive structures of enormous size are cast down, lest, by the constant onrush of the rising sea, the foundations of the island collapse and be dissolved by excessive force.

Whence it happens that, as the waves dash themselves against the side of the island, and run counter among the rugged rocks and the constructed masses, that middle channel is always restless, and, its passage roughened, the approach becomes dangerous for ships: the size of the harbor is thirty stadia, the anchorage safe, the calm very great whatever the storm: because by the narrowness of the mouth mentioned and by the interposition of the island it repels the waves of the sea from itself, and within it becomes a most safe harbor by a certain compensation for the dangerous entrance: because through those same narrows of the harbor's mouth the whole bay of the harbor is defended, and is removed from storms, and is made calm from the cold winds by which entries are roughened. Nor undeservedly is either the safety or the greatness of the harbor of this sort, since it is necessary that things which serve the use of the whole world be brought together into it.

For innumerable peoples of those same regions seek for their own use the commerce of the whole world, and a region fruitful in crops, and abounding in the other gifts of the earth or in trade, feeds and furnishes with necessary goods the whole world with grain.

Vespasian, having thus settled his affairs in Alexandria, and with the zeal of all who conducted military matters conspiring in favor of his own rule, hastens, free of care for his absence, his return to Syria: having agreed, however, upon instructions with Tiberius Alexander, who then governed Egypt, that he should unite the goodwill of his army, which was then in the upper regions, toward himself, and himself also aid the necessity of the Roman empire with whatever forces he could. What had been laid upon him Tiberius made known by letter to the provincials and the soldiers, and this was received by all with joy, and loyalty was pledged, favor poured forth abundantly. Caesarea receives Vespasian: from there Berytus, with the embassies of the cities flocking together with the greatest joy. There too Josephus, ordered by the emperor's command to be released from his chains, was helped by Titus so that the chains might rather be broken than loosed. For if they were broken, it would be as though he had never been bound.

It pleased the father that an axe be brought, he ordered the chains broken, so that the Jews might notice that pardon was not to be denied to them also, if they were converted and asked for peace: at the same time because he no longer kept him under another's judgment, since all decisions of affairs were now brought to himself.

They came to Antioch: there, a discussion being held, as to whence it would be fitting to cross over to Italy: since he had considered everything safe in Egypt or Alexandria. Speed was resolved upon. He accordingly sends off Mucianus with a great part of the cavalry and the infantry force, that he might anticipate the emperor's arrival in Italy. He, recalled by fear of a long voyage, directed his march through Cappadocia and Phrygia. He also ordered Antonius, prefect of the third military order, which was in Moesia, to pour himself into Italy at his command, before the Vitellians should stir themselves. For Vitellius, as though sodden and sunk in sleep, thinking that a banquet, not an empire, was being conducted, was sleeping while placed amid such great affairs. Finally, scarcely at last roused by the news of Antonius's arrival, he sends Caecina with part of the army, and entrusts the sum of his own peril to another's judgment, relying on the strength of Caecina, because he had routed Otho's forces.

He met Antonius as he approached, around the city of the Cremonenses: he explores everything, learns that a very strong force will be present from various quarters, vigorous in wars, practiced in triumphs: that he himself, on the other hand, could not contend against stronger men, being unequal neither in strength nor in numbers to match: having called together the centurions, he urges them to desist from war, since they were inferior in number, and the glory of the emperor outweighed them: that the fame of a general conducting the highest affair avails much in war: that Vespasian had shone forth in the Gallic regions and in the victories of the Britains: that Vespasian, girded with eastern trophies, enjoyed a great advantage from the prejudice of his own name: that Vitellius, however, being nothing else but dissolved in wine, and among yesterday's banquets always belching up his feasts, expected nothing else but that, when the enemy should arrive, he might perish drunk without any sense of pain.

That from the one side the soldiers' spirits were increased by the glory of so great an emperor: that from the other they were cast down by his reproaches and shameful deeds: that they must take heed lest they let slip the fame of the earlier war: that although they conquered Otho, an equal match for Vitellius, now the business is against one who has girded the whole world with his triumphs: that necessity must be forestalled by goodwill, so that they might choose Vespasian rather as a fellow-citizen than experience him as an enemy. Wretched it is to conquer in civil war, how much more wretched to be conquered, so that you may seem an enemy of your own people! For the victor the fatherland remains, for the vanquished it perishes: or if it remains, it will remain to the odium of crime, so that we may seem to have brought war upon our fellow citizens on behalf of a tyrant. For he who is conquered is no longer a citizen, but a tyrant.

Why do we join guilty hands? Let it be enough once for crime to have conquered, so that we may be ashamed of him for whom we have conquered. We thought that the empire would either be sober, or, roused by the weight of affairs, would renounce its perpetual sleep. What do we wait for longer? Our dangers are displeasing to all our fellow soldiers: our judgments are reproached and condemned by all peoples on account of the disgraceful deeds of the one chosen. Consider what sort of man he is, who was rejected even as victor. Surely one must first take counsel about the outcome of the war, and so give battle. If dangers forestall you, you will deliberate in vain; once counsel has been settled upon, you will rightly begin.

As for what concerned the anxious general: everything had been explored by him, it had been made clear that Vespasian's army was stronger, that his own loyalty toward Vitellius had already long since been proven, since when he presumed on the outcome of the war, victory followed, when he distrusted it, defeat followed: it was evident what would come to pass. Nor indeed was his own death a source of dread to him, but the danger to the Roman army: and what pains men more, the loss of praise already won, that those accustomed to conquer should seem conquered. He must certainly beware lest he be judged, and that it be understood that it was not from lack of courage but from the outcome that he conquered in the former war, and that it was cowardice that he was afterward conquered.

By these and such speeches he drew the soldiers over to his own view, so that they went of their own will with him to Antonius, and surrendered themselves to him: but, as the fickleness of the crowd, especially of the military, is wont to be, most of them were stung with remorse during the night in their beds, deserted, as it were, by repentance for Vitellius: lest, if he should prove superior, no place of pardon should remain for them, who had abandoned their own emperor. And rising, first with whatever men they met, then with all, they began to confer how they might amend their error; and, drawing their swords, they leapt upon Caecina, wishing to avenge the wrong of their own lapse; but with the centurions and chiliarchs intervening, they judged that they should refrain indeed from killing him, yet prepared to send him as a captive to Vitellius.

When this became known, Antonius set in motion those whom he had brought with him, and rushed upon the defectors with arms: but they, seeing the column of the opposing side, prepared themselves for battle: but having dared to resist for a little while, when they turned to flee to Cremona, Antonius met them with his cavalry, and forestalled all the approaches: lest, fleeing for refuge, they be received, and, shut in before the city, he slew them. A very great multitude was slain there, and, pursuing the rest into the very city, he destroyed them. Everything was plundered, very many of the inhabitants were killed for the sake of plunder, while men avenged their own losses. Thirty thousand two hundred men who were present from Vitellius's army were destroyed. And Primus (for this was the surname of Antonius) lost four thousand five hundred of his Moesian soldiers: since the Vitellians, in despair of safety, wishing to avenge themselves, when they saw themselves surrounded, granted to the Antonians themselves a victory not without bloodshed.

Caecina, released from his chains, is sent to Vespasian by Antonius; and there, not only by the security of his safety, but also by the payment of rewards, he was consoled for the stain of his betrayal.

Elated by the news of this victory, Sabinus, wishing also himself to secure commendation with the emperor, if he should forestall the arriving Antonius by either the destruction or the expulsion of Vitellius: or, if Vitellius should resist, Antonius, who was already reported to be about to arrive at any moment, would come upon the scene—gathers to himself a military force from those ranks which, stationed at Rome, had charge of the duties of the watch, and occupies the Capitol also by night: very many of the nobles flocked to him during the day, among whom also Domitian, born of Vespasian's brother, who, fearing lest the vengeance of Vitellius be turned upon himself as upon Vespasian's nephew; placed between the two Vitellii, he attacks the nearer one, less anxious about the more distant one (for nearer dangers terrify more). And, being indignant, he sends the Germans into the Capitol, who, exceedingly fierce with the savagery of their race, and at the same time stronger in number, surrounded the rebellious band of Sabinus: nearly all were slain.

Domitian, however, with most of the nobles, while the Germans strove toward the upper part of the Capitol, and were being driven from the place by Sabinus and his allies, found a way of escape by good fortune, or perhaps because he too was being reserved for the public calamity as a future tyrant: Vitellius put Sabinus to death after torturing him, all the offerings given to the Capitol are plundered, and the temple is set on fire.

The next day Antonius is present: he is met from the opposite side, a threefold engagement having been fought around the walls of the city: all the Vitellians were routed and slaughtered: meanwhile Vitellius was feasting, lest he lose, though about to die, his meal, and was being stuffed, as is usual at the last extremity, with the more abundant dishes of his final table. He drowned himself with more frequent cups of wine, so that he might lose all sense of the coming disgrace or danger: he is dragged from the banquet, dragged through the crowd, mocked as he was about to die, insults are heaped upon him, which, drunk, he did not feel. He is slain in the middle of the city, pouring out wine and blood together, belching up his drunkenness; who, if he had lived longer, would have gulped down the resources of the Roman empire in the expenses of luxury and the price of his tables. In the end, he ruled for eight months and five days.

And already Rome had been exhausted by his gluttony. Others slain are numbered at more than five hundred thousand.

On the following day, however, Mutianus and Antonius, having entered together with the army, scarcely put an end to the slaughter of the raging soldiers, because they were pursuing those who had presumed to set up the Vitellian imperial power, and were searching out the houses of private citizens, roused to such indignation that when they had discovered some of the common people hiding out of fear, they struck them as though they were Vitellians before an examination could reveal the truth, so that all too often the fury of the victors ran ahead of interrogation. And because Vespasian was absent, Mutianus set Domitian, as it were in the place of an interregnum, over the public business, lest anything be lacking to his good fortune. Yet the lust for shameful deeds had not yet fully seeped into Domitian: he was still unpracticed in vices, and a raw recruit in crimes as he was in power. Vespasian, detained by winter, the sea being closed by the winds, returned with his son to Alexandria.

There, having learned of the news of victory and of the favor of the Roman people toward himself, he resolved to hasten his departure, lest anything be changed in his absence; yet he did not leave the Jewish war unattended, which he thought should be entrusted to his son, as it were a partner in his own works and his successor: so that he himself might not be lacking to the Romans, nor Vespasian to the Jews, whom his son would represent. Titus therefore, chosen as the executor of his father's triumph, sets out with a picked band, goes forth on foot, and makes for Nicopolis. That city is distant from Alexandria twenty-four stadia: from there, having put the soldiers aboard the larger ships of the fleet, he sails down the Nile as far as the city of Thonis. From there, proceeding, he lodged in a city named Thamna.

The second stopping-place for travelers was the city of Heraclea, the third Pelusium: having spent two days at Pelusium for the sake of encampment, he made his way through the desert as far as the temple of Casian Jove: after it followed the stopping-place of Ostracine, a place lacking water; yet by the diligence of the inhabitants they had provided themselves relief, by establishing conduits of water. The inhabitants of Rhinocolura received the advancing army, not without welcome refreshment. Next came the city of Raphia, which is the first city of Syria for those journeying from Egypt. They arrived at Gaza, which was the fifth city for those coming in. Thence to Ascalon, then Jamnia, from which there was a crossing to Joppa, and they arrived at Caesarea: where it was necessary to remain a while, and also to gather the body of soldiers who were still in winter quarters, since the harshness of winter was now abating.

In the first year after the imperial power had been conferred upon Vespasian, Judaea was being torn apart by harsh wars and domestic seditions, nor had it observed through the winter a truce from evils, at a time when the savagery of wars is wont to rest: nay, a third tyrant, Eleazar, had come upon it, as though to correct the vices of his predecessors; who, with Judas and Simon son of Zeno, and Ezekias, a youth of no mean birth, conspiring with him, whom very many others accompanied, having seized the inner parts of the temple and its whole circuit, set up arms above the gates on the front of the vestibule itself. John, however, surpassed them in the number of conspirators and in the multitude of his faction, but was inferior in position: although he was by no means idle, but resisted those above him, yet he was burdened by having enemies above his head.

Simon, indeed, whom the people had brought in as their own tyrant, held the upper parts of the city: the lower parts also were filled with his own people. The city labored within itself with a threefold battle: there was no cessation, no rest, no truce: at every moment there was fighting. Many were falling, countless were being slaughtered, blood flowed, defiling everything, filling even the thresholds of the temple itself, corpses lying everywhere: some were struck by arrows, others by missiles.

John was in the middle among the three, inferior to Eleazar, superior to Simon: by as much as he was surpassed by Eleazar, by so much he surpassed Simon: for holding a middle place between the two, the more he was burdened by the one, the more harm he himself did to the other; yet, being better equipped than the rest with the resources of engines and with kinds of weapons, he matched the war on equal terms; and to such a degree that, besides those who waged the war, very many even of the priests were killed, and were sacrificed amid the very victims which they had slain: for although a dense harvest of missiles rained down upon all, and battles raged everywhere, yet the priests carried out the office of sacrificing solemnly: nor did they rest from the duty entrusted to them, and the more they were within the temple, the more grievously they were destroyed: because, driven by the engines, the blows they received were the more violent.

Many also who had come from the farthest region to pray, hoping for remedies of safety, the more they clung to the temple, the greater were the dangers into which they were drawn. You might have seen foreigners lying with citizens, priests together with the profane, the grave with the base, the dissolute with the abstinent, and, the blood of all mingled promiscuously and flowing as it were in a stream, the inner recesses of the temple itself standing in pools: all around everything swelling with gore, so that many, while the combatants of the factions sought one another out, slipping on the treacherous ground, dashed about in their fury, were drowned in blood: nor were the tyrants' henchmen deterred from battle even by such dangers: and the greater the danger, the more the storm of fury raged. If destruction had weighed more heavily upon some, others were incited the more vehemently, as though to victory, to bring down the disordered.

And indeed Eleazar or Simon had the power of yielding, so as to recover themselves, as it were, by some short truces of hours: but John was always under arms, at every moment in the contest: if those above had grown quiet, those below on Simon's side pressed on; if he had thrown these into confusion, Eleazar assailed him: nor did he himself allow them to remain quiet: when he had driven off some, he leapt upon others, ever wakeful in the contest, and untiring even in cruelty itself: when they spared their weapons, they hurled fire, which, seizing upon the tops of the roofs, devoured the houses, which, filled with grain and other stores of provisions for the endurance of a longer war, were burned alike; and greater fuel was given to the growing conflagration, the burnt timbers collapsed, the roofs of the lofty buildings came crashing down. Thus by blood, by fire, by ruin, by famine, the sinews of the whole city were being cut through.

No place was free from danger, no time was found for counsel, no hope of change, no means of flight. All things were mournful, full of horror, full of savagery, everywhere mourning, everywhere terror, everywhere the cries of women, the wailing of the old, the groans of the dying, the despair of the living, so that you would call those wretched who remained, and blessed those who had perished.

How art thou deceived, O city, by thy own peoples, to whom thou once didst seem blessed? How art thou stormed by thine own arms, and thine own hands turned against thee, thou who wast wont to conquer without arms, and to strike down the enemy without any battle, when angels fought for thee, and the waves of the sea, the gapings of the earth, the crashings of heaven did military service for thee? Arise now, Moses, and behold thy people and the inheritance of the people entrusted to thee perishing by their own hands. Behold that people of God, for whom the sea, as they walked, lay open and passable, for whom heaven, as they hungered, supplied food; shut in without a sea, besieged without a Pharaoh, starving without any barrenness of the earth.

Arise, Aaron, who once, when because of an offense against Almighty God death was devouring very many of the people, didst stand between the living and the dead, and death stood still, and by the interposing of thy body the plague was checked, nor could it pass over to the contagion of the living. Rise up also, thou, Joshua son of Nun, who didst level the impregnable walls of Jericho by the trumpets of the priests sounding; and behold the people to whom thou didst subject foreigners, now themselves subjected and oppressed. Arise, David, who wast wont to drive out the exasperating spirit by the sweetness of the harp; and behold how fury now reigns, and has stripped all the sweetness of thy psalms from the senses of the lost, and how each one of the princes offers up the whole people to death, in order to wrest away liberty, for which thou thyself didst offer thyself to death.

Arise, Elisha, who didst bring the enemy into Samaria, and didst make him a friend: through thee in the camps of Syria there sounded the din of chariots and the voice of horsemen and the voice of might: the enemy fled, the Jew escaped the siege. Where now are these merits, where now these workings of the saints? Nor is it strange that they have lost the works of the prophets, who denied the Arbiter of the prophets: and therefore, O Judea, thine own arms are turned against thee, and thy prayers profit thee nothing, because thy faith works nothing: therefore thy people has been made against thee, because thy perfidy has turned itself against thee. What remedy is sought, where the Author of the remedy is not reconciled? What didst thou think would be, when with thine own hands thou didst crucify thy Savior; when with thine own hands thou didst extinguish thy own life; when with thine own voices thou didst banish thine Advocate; when by thine own testimonies thou didst slay thy Helper?

Nothing else, but that thou shouldst also lay thy hands upon thyself. Thou hast what thou didst ask: thou hast snatched from thyself the Prince of peace, thou didst ask that the Arbiter of life be killed, that Barabbas be granted thee, who for sedition made in the city, and for murder, had been cast into prison. Therefore salvation has departed from thee, peace has gone away, rest has ceased, sedition has been given thee, destruction has been given thee: acknowledge that today Barabbas lives for thee, and Jesus is dead. Therefore sedition reigns in thee, peace is buried, that thou mightest perish more cruelly by thine own than if thou hadst perished by strangers. What so much did the Roman with his arms bring upon thee, O wretched city, as thy own people brought of evils? That thou shouldst fight against the Romans, thine own people made it so: the Romans wished peace, thou didst declare war. What cause was there, that thou shouldst provoke the stronger?

Hard indeed it was, that against the sacred law a Gentile entered the temple: but thou wast no longer the temple of God, thou wast no longer the city of God, nor couldst thou be, because thou wast the sepulcher of the dead, and especially of thine own whom thou thyself hadst slain, not those thou hadst lost to the enemy. For how couldst thou be the dwelling of life, who wast the abode of death, the lodging of crimes, the den of robbers?

In thee lay Ananus and Jesus, chief priests, unburied: and they who once were clothed in priestly robes, who had been held in veneration even by foreigners, lay with disfigured corpses, food for birds, devoured by dogs, their limbs torn and scattered throughout the whole city, so that the very appearance of ancient sanctity might seem to lament so great an insult to a sacred name, and the disfigurement of a once glorious office: but thou thyself didst make for thyself the beginning of this indignity, who in the very midst of thy bosom didst slay the prophets, who didst stone the saints of the Lord. Before the temple Zachariah lay lifeless; he lay unburied: so this blood washes that blood.

But what was the cause of Ananus's death, save that he rebuked thy people, because they did not rise up in defense of the temple, since he demanded back betrayed liberty, deserted valor, the trampled relics of the ancient rites, the defiled altars: he declared that the people must be abandoned to the practice of senseless idols and marble statues, feeling nothing now. For many animals are wont to render back either the requital of vengeance, to feel an injury, to be roused by the goad, to shrink from blows: whoever therefore is neither roused nor knows how to shrink from what harms him, is like those without feeling. And in truth, where now is that liberty of thine, for zeal of which thou once thoughtest thou must yield neither to Egyptians, nor Philistines, nor Assyrians, and afterward not even to the Medes? Where is that faith of the Maccabees, which once with a few routed the Babylonians, put to flight the Persians, struck down Demetrius?

Which at last, even in little children and women, overcame the arms, swords and fires of Antiochus, and chose rather to die for the observance of the ancestral law than to obey the commands of the king? Where is that most beautiful devotion of the fathers, of all sufferings the fairest, whereby they offered themselves to death not so much for their children, not so much for their wives, as for the temple of God? Before, even the priestly rod of Aaron flourished, cut from a wild root: now faith withers, and piety is buried, and all rivalry of virtue has departed. Nor is it strange, if the people has departed from God, and follows the wicked spirit of contradiction, that it is divided against itself. For how could it keep its own peace, who had rejected the peace of God? The peace of God is Christ, who made both one.

Rightly, therefore, from one people many have been made against themselves, because, divided, they refused to follow Jesus who unites, but, joined together, they followed the spirit of fury which divides. Thou wast paying, therefore, O Jerusalem, the wages of thine own perfidy, when with thine own hands thou didst destroy thine own defenses, when with thine own swords thou didst pierce thine own vitals: so that the enemy pitied, and thou didst slay; that he spared, and thou didst rage. For thou sawest that God was fighting against thee, and was performing the part of the Romans, so that thou thyself mightest inflict upon thyself a voluntary betrayal. And therefore the Romans preferred to be spectators rather than strikers, lest, while thine own vitals seethed against one another, they should be thought, by laying on a hand, to be sharing in contagion rather than showing courage.

To these punishments of unspeakable slaughter was added the monstrousness of an impious cruelty, in that they denied burial to all who had been slain either in the temple or about the streets of the city: nor was there leisure for anyone to bury, while they were occupied with war among themselves, and the care of striking rather than of burying held all. Thus in a kind of frenzy the offices of piety had perished, the ministries of impiety grew fierce, and nothing had perished more in such great calamities than mercy, which alone is wont to relieve miseries, to console distresses. For those who had lost their own did not dare to bury them for fear, since grievous terror pressed upon them from the leaders of the opposing faction: and those who had slain others of a different party took care that no one should snatch them away for burial.

And so it was necessary for all to fear, lest what they wished to grant to another they should take upon themselves; or, what is worse, lest the use of a tomb which they had prepared for others they themselves should not obtain.

In the temple itself, therefore, instead of sweet-smelling ointments, instead of fragrant incense, instead of the scents of various flowers, there was the heavy stench of unburied corpses, which the rain had dissolved, which the flame had burned, which the sun had heated; all the limbs of slain citizens reeked with a dire odor: on one side the putrefaction of dissolved entrails, on the other the smoke of the burned, filled all the senses and mouths of the living, so that they themselves not long after were consumed by a graver disease, and, surviving, groaned that they were kept for this, to perish by a harsher punishment: and were preserved for this, that they might see, together with their fatherland, the very laws of nature dissolved, the right of the living denied, peace to citizens, burial to the dead, things human and divine alike defiled and polluted, all things confounded, mercy accounted a crime, cruelty held in the place of religion.

A camp in the temple, war on the threshold, smoke on the altars: they beheld with their own eyes what they had not believed would come to pass, though the prophets foretold it. Did not David say of them: "They have defiled thy holy temple, they have made the dead bodies of thy servants meat for the fowls of the air: they have shed their blood like water round about Jerusalem, and there was none to bury them"? For at that time both the nations came into the inheritance of God to carry off everything, and the temple was polluted by the corpses of its own people, and the bodies of the slain lay unburied for the food of birds and the voracity of beasts: blood was shed, so that it stagnated in the temple, and there was none to bury it: because from the living the fury passed to the dead, and from the dead to those who still lived. Did someone wish to bury the dead?

He himself was slain: and he who had killed the dead man transferred his wrath to the burier; that he might deny burial to the one, he destroyed the other: again, he who had slain the burier exercised a greater cruelty upon the dead man, so that, though he now owed nothing to hatred, and felt no punishments, he stripped him even of the last debt of nature. What else could happen to those who did not receive the divine oracles? They mocked the announcements of the prophets, they trampled underfoot every law of right: they did not believe things to come, which by their own deeds they hastened to bring about. For there was an old and common saying, that the city of Jerusalem would then perish, and her holy places be burned, when sedition should assail the law of war, and domestic hands should defile the temple of God: but not even this did they understand. For how often was the house of God cut down, how often was there sedition, how often siege, how often war?

And never did that city perish, save when with domestic hands they crucified the true temple of God. And what was that temple? Let them hear: "Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up." For what else was it but sacrilege, when they stretched forth impious hands against the Author of salvation, when they stoned him, when they scourged him, when they seized him, when they killed him? Then truly did the divine fire consume their sanctuary: for it, burned by the Babylonians, was afterward rebuilt: destroyed by Pompey, was again restored: but was utterly burned, when Jesus came, and, dissolved by the heat of the divine Spirit, vanished away. It behooved us to precede with some more abundant lamentation a certain funeral of ancestral solemnity, and, as it were, to attend a kind of obsequies, and to discharge them according to the custom of our forebears: but let us come to the beginning of the siege of Jerusalem.

Titus had returned into Judea, and, a few days having intervened, that the ranks of the military numbers, from which a chosen band had been sent into Italy, might be filled up, the war blazed, hastening to accompany his father, lest he leave him alone in dangers, about to engage against the arms of Vitellius. He therefore set out on his march with great splendor of army: everywhere solitude, and the array kept ready and watchful for ambushes, because he saw himself superior in valor. He came through the regions of Samaria; Gophna received him, which had long since surrendered to the Romans; he came to Gophna, from which Jerusalem was no more than thirty stadia distant.

From there, taking six hundred horsemen, he advanced with the cavalry before the city: he also explored the situation of the place, the quality of the fortifications, the height of the walls, the temper of the populace, which was said to be oppressed by the arms of brigands and hemmed in by the crowding of factions: so that it might unwillingly acquiesce in the siege, lest it should betray its good will toward the Romans, if liberty were granted. Splendidly, therefore, with a few he rode along the public causeway, which led toward the walls of the city, nor did anyone appear to come forth.

But when, to go around the circuit of the walls, he turned his horse aside, while the rest of the crowd followed their leader, suddenly many burst forth from the place called opposite the Tomb of Helena, and, leaping out, occupied the road, so as to cut off the greater part of the cavalry which followed Titus: he himself with a few had passed by, by the design of those lying in ambush, that, being abandoned by the rest, he might be more easily overwhelmed: because it was not easy to return to his own, on account of the pressing multitude of the enemy; nor did the ditch or the rampart, and the other obstacles of the ground, allow him to advance further, whereby a twofold danger was brought upon him.

Titus, therefore, seeing that the remedy of safety lay placed in his own valor, and that the way must be opened by nothing else but the sword: for already others had turned their horses back and departed, while they too hoped to follow the emperor's son, he turned his horse, and, urging on the rest with a shout to follow, charged upon the enemy above them: this would seem impossible, how he was able to escape, were it not known that in war boldness can do very much, which alone is a wall unto itself: then, because with others following behind, the common crowd thought they must look out for themselves in danger rather than pursue the enemy: but if any stretched forth his hand to seize the horse, he was struck down. In the end, only two of Titus's companions were slain: with the rest the emperor's son returned to his own.

Nor indeed should it be doubted that, bareheaded, and otherwise naked—since he had gone forth in a sally, not prepared for battle, and had put on neither helmet nor breastplate—he received no wound therein, though missiles were hurled chiefly at him, because so great a man was being reserved for the destruction of that city. It is, it is indeed so, that the heart of a king is in the hand of God. And so, lest the boldness of the Jews should grow from the outcome of their fraud and guile, he set out for the city with his army, and after nightfall returned; and from a certain watchtower, whence the city could be seen and the temple's very ample magnitude, he showed his men with what city they would have war, and that they must be untiring and more cautious: because an innumerable people was to be subdued by him, and one ready for treachery.

He arranges those who should approach nearest to the walls: those whom he had learned to be still weary from the night's march, he places farther off as a sort of reserve. Little by little the advance proceeds. When they came to the Mount of Olives, a valley lay between it and the city, called Cedron; and when the army had halted there and the men on the walls beheld it (for it was six stades distant), for a time they laid aside their zeal for sedition, and with foreign enemies now arriving, the contests of civil war were set apart under a domestic truce. For fear often represses even bitter hatreds. At length the leaders of the factions, exhorting one another that with united purpose they should defend their fatherland, lest their discord should give the Romans a bloodless victory, trusting in their numbers thought the enemy should be suddenly attacked, and by an unforeseen sally threw the foremost into confusion.

But when the Romans, trained by their own long experience and by battles of various kinds, rallied their spirits, and closed ranks in their proper order, they began to cut down the attackers, to repel them with their shields, to drive them back with a hail of missiles—yet not without mutual slaughter. And the Jews had almost prevailed, and the Roman line was wavering, had not Titus, on learning of the affair, come up and, meeting the enemy, steadied his men and renewed the battle, and roused the spirits of the soldiers, rebuking the Roman ranks for yielding victory to a disordered multitude, not without the deepest reproach of cowardice. And having repulsed the Jews, who even pursued those separated by the valley, he withdrew victorious to his own men; and, secure in the advantage which the higher ground gave against those below, should they attempt to engage, the Roman army turned to another quarter.

As Caesar was withdrawing, the Jews poured out from the walls, and rushed upon the enemy in a vast column: so that, at the onrush of the countless multitude, the soldiers fled and betook themselves to the higher parts of the mountains: their flank exposed, the rest also, who would rather have fought, took to flight. Meanwhile Caesar, standing in the midst of the throng, though many begged him not to expose himself to danger, nor, with the army scattered, to take upon himself alone the full brunt of peril, since he was lord of the whole world (for he was not fighting now as a common soldier, but as commander, in whose peril lay the ruin of all)—he would not yield; but, setting military honor above safety, a man for whom a glorious death outweighed the reproach of a shameful life, he turned his breast against the enemy, and, having terrified those against whom he had gone, wheeled himself against others.

For the mere hope placed in him, and the glory of his well-known and eager valor, threw the enemy into confusion. Those whom he had approached gave way, but from other quarters the Jews poured in more and more; and they had almost enclosed Titus, had not most of the soldiers, seeing Caesar caught in the midst of the battle, cried out to the rest, signaling that the emperor's son must not be abandoned to danger. Thus shame recalled them all, and fear armed them, lest they be branded with the disgrace of having deserted Caesar. And turning upon the Jews, with all their strength and valor they drove the disordered multitude back into the valley, nor was it difficult for those climbing to slip back down. Thus Titus twice recalled the fleeing body of soldiers from flight, and delivered them alike from danger and from disgrace, employing equal valor, and at the last, shame.

And while he sought to avert cowardice, he brought in valor: first, that Caesar might not be abandoned; then also, that the enemy might be driven back.

After this, when the battle in the open had quieted for a little, an internal one succeeded it. For, taking advantage of the Passover festival, John, having suborned a good number of men who might go up to the temple as if for the sake of observance, and being granted, as if they were allies, the opportunity of entering, carried out his deceit. For, having entered under the guise of civilians, but armed underneath, they cast off their outer garments and raised their swords, their breasts already girded with mail, and equipped for battle. Struck with this terror, those who, unarmed, were keeping the festival within the temple, leapt away, and left the temple empty. As these men followed them and slew those they could seize, while others pursued beyond the circuit of the temple, an opportunity was given to John and his associates to break in.

Many mortals were slain there; so that even those who had not resisted were slaughtered on trumped-up charges: neither tranquil quiet availed, nor silence for the silent, nor patience for those who yielded. And having seized the inner parts of the temple, John also began to trouble Simon, reducing him to a secondary place, with Eleazar and the other leaders of the third faction subordinated to himself.

For a third time also Titus advanced against the enemy, and led out his army. And on arriving he found a dense multitude of Jews before the city, appearing as if willing to surrender themselves to the Romans, but as if in some fear. He suspected treachery, and the more so since he had recently seen them conspiring together and stubbornly resolved: not thinking it credible that they had suddenly changed, he warned the soldiers to beware of fraud, and not rashly, except according to his own command, to approach the walls in close formation, lest those who had come out of the city should surround them from the rear. Suddenly a noise clamored from the city, and a certain madness of sedition rang out: some feigning a voluntary sally, others also resisting, since some demanded the gates be opened to them, others ordered them kept shut: some wished for war, others for peace.

The common soldiers rushed forth to bring aid to those who had called for help from the walls: many burst out headlong, without order, without any discipline, as though about to meet the newcomers and bring assistance, so that, by this nearer remedy, confidence to break out was given to the larger number, or fear to those resisting, or, among those struggling against each other, opportunity to break through. When those who stood outside began to surround them from behind, and to press upon those thus encircled, they fled as if to the wall for refuge, suspecting nothing from those who had feigned peace. Then also stones and missiles were hurled, and the sham peace was suddenly turned into battle. Whereupon, roused, they ran back against the enemy, who, though they had attempted to surround the advance of the Roman soldiers, yet themselves feared lest they be surrounded by the whole army.

And so, while guarding themselves against all, though they inflicted very many wounds on these, and were themselves for the greater part wounded, they nearly lost from their hands those whom they already thought captured. Yet they were pursued as far as the tomb of Helena, and, as is the custom of those who mock, they clashed their shields, taunting the Romans for having now a second time been ensnared by tricks.

Caesar, more indignant, forbids the returning men to mingle with the rest, and calls an assembly, saying: Although the Roman valor is great, surpassing the peoples of all nations; yet it excels chiefly in order of discipline and obedience to commands: for that is the safeguard of military discipline. Nor is it surprising if the Jews weave deceits, contrive frauds, since they judge themselves unequal in strength. But as it belongs to the weaker to rely on stratagems, so it belongs to the stronger to beware lest treachery mock their valor. I marvel, therefore, he said, that they should agree among themselves in desperation, while it is not fitting for Romans to agree in the pursuit of better things: and hence it happens that for them the outcome of fraud is assured, but for us the effort of valor remains in doubt. But if the enemy's strength were greater than their fraud, to be overcome would be less shameful. For to be conquered by equals or by stronger foes is free from reproach.

But since nothing offends in us except only excess in fighting, and a certain intemperance of hands, what can be more base than that, in Caesar's presence, military discipline should be cast aside? I think the very laws of the army groan much at so great a disgrace of dissolution: much too will the emperor groan, when he learns of this—he who has always preferred to be heard by his soldier rather than feared by the enemy. For a soldier's obedience hastens the result; the enemy's fear only delays victory. What do you think the father will judge of the son, whose command is held so cheap by the army? For judgment is passed on the leader whose command is dissolved: nor is it doubtful that vengeance has more often been taken on those who fought against the enemy contrary to command, than on those who, advancing according to command, yielded to superior force. For by the laws, death is prescribed for one who departs from the ranks.

What then will happen, when not one man but the army everywhere abandons its order, and neglects the general's decree? Know yourselves to be soldiers of the Roman empire, of the people, of the senate, among whom to conquer without the authority of command is itself a crime. By such a speech he struck terror not only into the officers of the soldiers, but into the whole army. For since he attacked the leaders of the ranks more sharply, it seemed he would punish all. Thereupon all, gathering around, begged that, for the fault of the few who had first given way, pardon might be granted to all. And although Caesar was not quick to grant pardon for the offense, yet he was open to persuasion toward indulgence.

He granted it, saying with the utmost gravity: that he forgave them all, and that vengeance had sufficiently been taken on all by the authority of his rebuke, since punishment ought to proceed to the deed itself only in the case of individuals, but toward a multitude only as far as words, the former unto punishment, the latter unto correction. For often, he said, a lapse in battle has given good armies the occasion for future valor.

After this Titus turned his anger against the enemy, and considering, amid so many precipices, so many broken places, how dangerous the siege was: since, if surprised by sudden sallies, the soldiers had no place to which to retreat, nor from which to hurl themselves against the enemy, nor where to set up their engines; he ordered the precipices before the city to be filled in: and while this was being done, the Jews were not without their share of present dangers either. They were afflicted by domestic strife, while the Romans were occupied in filling the precipices. Nor was the force on either side small: ten thousand were with Simon, and fifty leaders of them: the Idumeans too, to the number of about five thousand, stood by Simon's party, over whom Jacob and the younger Simon presided. John, meanwhile, having seized the inner parts of the temple (by the trick we described above), attended by six thousand armed men, was kindling war.

There were joined to him also two thousand more, together with another four hundred men, after they had begun to unite, their zeal agreeing for the defense of the city, with Eleazar and Simon Arim, whom they had also used before, as leaders. While these contended among themselves, the people were as prey in the midst for the victors, and, as a prize of the contest, were dragged now this way, now that, according to the varying fortune. For a little while they came together after the manner of a truce, and at the first onset of the Romans, roused again, they relapsed into the old disease of inward fever within their sick vitals, when the attack of the outer maladies grew more relaxed. Outside there was mostly war, inside sedition, all the more grievous because the very sedition was fed by the war, and the war was fed by the sedition. Two factions contended for power: the people between them were anxious not about servitude, but lest they should fall under a worse master.

The city of Jerusalem a certain powerful man of the Chananites founded, who in the language of his fathers was called “the Just King,” and he first named it Solyma: afterward he added a temple, whence the city was called Hierosolyma. From the beginning it had for its inhabitants people of the race of the Chananites. David, the first man of the Hebrews, drove out the Chananites, and established his own people there, and made for himself in it a royal house. He also wished to build a temple to God; but being forbidden by an oracle, he left Solomon as his heir, who might build the temple which he himself had wished to build. Solomon accordingly founded the temple: the rest of the kings also added very much for the adornment of the city.

Envy arose from its magnificence: yet among all the works the temple excelled by its most ample workmanship and gleaming marble: in which there was a walkway, a most precious and very great hanging veil, woven of scarlet and hyacinth-blue and fine linen and purple. Not idle was the material of such variety, but its appearance signified the substance of hidden things: because it was the temple of him who ruled over heaven and air, earth and sea, as the creator of the elements, and alone governed and ruled all things. For by scarlet the fire of the heavens is figured, by hyacinth-blue the air, by fine linen the earth, because it is born from it: by purple the sea, which is dyed with sea-shells, so that you may gather two from color, two from origin.

Finally the high priest was accustomed to express these four things in his vestment, when the greatest celebration of feast days occurred, as though he were clothing himself with the whole world, about to make supplication on behalf of the people, in the figure of him who was to come, the high priest Jesus, who would take away the sin of the world. The high priest covered his thighs inwardly with a linen covering, because in the priest above all else faith of mind is sought, and chastity of body which ought to gird up the intemperance of the flesh. There were two sacred tabernacles, one inner, the other outer: into the outer the priests always entered: into that inner one, which was called the second, only the high priest entered, and that but once, not without blood, which he offered for himself and for the sin of the people.

By this the Holy Spirit signified that Jesus would come, who alone would truly enter the inner recesses of the divine mysteries, and the hidden things of the heavenly substance, who knew all things. He alone also would reconcile the whole world to the Father by his blood, that he might have mercy both on heavenly and earthly things. Finally, after he came, he made peace through the blood of his cross for all things, whether in heaven or on earth. Within was the censer, within the table, within the lamp: the censer, because thus toward God the Father, as incense, is directed the prayer of the high priest: the table, because in it is the passion of Christ, and the mysteries of the sacraments, whence also David says: Thou hast prepared a table before me; whose twelve loaves, as it were, are the twelve apostles, witnesses of his passion and of his resurrection.

The lamp which is placed upon the lampstand was formerly under a bushel, that is, under the measure of the law; now it is under the fullness of grace, pouring forth abundant light from its seven branches, because the Holy Spirit illumined the temple of God with the powers of the seven greatest graces. The knowledge of the Trinity, therefore, was in the inner parts of the temple, which were called the Holy of Holies, where once was laid up the rod of Aaron that had flowered, signifying that the priestly grace in Christ would work still more after the death by which he redeemed the world. Before the temple there were fourteen steps, by which in the time of King Ezechias the shadow had ascended, signifying to him that the end of his life would come. But being warned by an oracle, he prayed and deserved a postponement of death, with this token, that the sun was cast back over those same steps, which signified that a like number of years of life had been poured back to him.

Since therefore the city was fortified on every side by the works of very many kings, and especially of Herod, who strengthened the fortress named Antonia to the magnificence of the highest workmanship, and adorned it with the most ample splendor, Caesar went around inquiring from what side he might more easily pour himself into the city; and having inspected the whole circuit of the wall on every side, he judged that the siege should be attempted at the neighboring mound where the high priest John lay buried. While he was examining this more carefully, one of his friends, Nicanor, clinging close and applying himself eagerly to the task, was struck by an arrow and fell. For he had approached rather near, thinking that some progress toward peace to come would be made, if opportunity were given for conversing, since he was reckoned powerful and able to test the minds of his hearers.

Caesar, moved that they had inflicted death by an unexpected wound on one who was urging things salutary, drove his forces into battle, and the war was kindled by a varied hurling of weapons, and especially of missiles: battering rams were brought up, by which the strong parts of the walls were struck. By this all who before had contended among themselves for domination came together into concord, and, an amnesty for former offenses having been given, made themselves one body, and, conspiring under compulsion of danger, defended the city. Advancing also to the mounds, they hurled fire upon the machines, that they might destroy the earthworks, burn the sheds, and set fire to the rams: and they had all but burned every kind of machine, had not many chosen soldiers and allies, especially from the parts of the city of Alexandria, resisted vigorously. But since these resisted strongly, Caesar added the help of stronger cavalry. He himself also, fighting fiercely, laid low twelve defenders of the opposing line.

Thus the strength of the remaining multitude, avoiding destruction, returned into the city, and the Roman works were defended from the fire. In that battle fell John, leader of the Idumaeans: while before the walls, having been recognized, he was conversing with a Roman soldier, struck by an arrow-wound in the back, he immediately fell. They say that the most skilled of the Arab javelin-throwers was the author of his death: and the Idumaeans were affected with grave grief, because they had lost a man both ready of hand and good in counsel.

The following night it happened that three towers which Titus had ordered raised above the earthworks, from which to strike the Jews with missiles either on a level or from above, suddenly collapsed by no force of the enemy. At this noise the whole army of the Romans was thrown into confusion, in the belief that the earthworks had been destroyed by the enemy, the towers undermined, and that these, falling, had caused a great slaughter far and wide. And a pitiable disgrace was almost committed, that the victors should yield in flight before uncertain enemies in the night, had not the darkness and the very ruin, the dust being stirred up, taken away their view, so that they were uncertain whither to flee. Each man inquired of his neighbor what had happened, nor could he learn any certain truth, because in like manner all were ignorant of such an occurrence, until Caesar, the facts having been ascertained, ordered it made known that what had happened was a sudden accident, not any hostile incursion.

Thus the panic was calmed, and all resource for taking the city was placed in force. For since the walls were very high, and many parts covered with iron or bronze, and the enemy were protected from missiles by the very height, the Romans brought up the machines of the rams, by whose frequent blows the strong parts of the walls were loosened: they began to rely on lighter javelins and arrows, to turn aside the defenders, and to divert the obstacles of those hindering them. Thus, as they gradually shook it, the wall gave way: whence the Jews called that very great ram the “destroyer of cities.” The part of the wall having thus given way, the Jews abandoned the defenses of that wall, secure because they had two other inner walls, and withdrew to the second wall.

As they fled, the Romans, entering through the gaps of the wall, opened the gates: thus the whole army was let in, and almost demolished the outer wall, lest it be an impediment to those fighting, or, if things went ill, a refuge-barrier for those fleeing.

John and Simon, conspirators, divided among themselves the positions around the second wall. John, with his men, fought at the fortress called Antonia: near to it was the portico of the temple, which faced toward the north side. For the very place also (in which the fortress was afterward founded under the name Antonia), lying between two porticoes, the northern one, was called Brios; but Simon had undertaken to guard the city near the sepulcher of John. For these the contest was for their safety, for the Romans for victory. Though the Romans had the stronger valor for engaging, yet the lower ground was disadvantageous for the siege: since the battle from the wall weighed heavily upon them, the rashness of the Jews was more insolent, the courage of the Romans more keen: the leaders on each side pressed close to their own men; and thereby the greater the contention arose, while each man was eager to prove his own dangers to his own leaders.

Simon drove on his men by terror and dread: Titus most of all urged the Romans by a sense of their own honor, because they judged it worse than death not to display their own dangers before Caesar, since he himself had not hesitated so often to expose himself to dangers for the sake of the army. They were armed by the habit of conquering, and by ignorance of yielding: and especially by the present arbiter of each man’s valor, Titus, from whom was expected not a reward for courage, but, above all things, the fruit of the amplest prize, that he, watching, should have seen anything done bravely which did not displease him. By this incentive Longinus, a man of the equestrian militia, roused, seeing the ranks of the Jews arrayed before the walls, as though indignant that they should provoke the Romans to war and dare to come forth on equal terms, leapt down from his horse, and threw himself into the midst of the enemy.

And one who was preparing to meet him in the same manner he struck with his spear, and at once snatched away both his voice and his life. From another he tore the spear out of his prostrate body and drove it into him, and returned victorious to his own. We speak of the most eminent; but there were many imitators on both sides, though of different kind: desperation gave the Jews boldness, desire of glory added valor to the Romans. Yet, though their spirits were unequal, contempt of death was equal: to the Jews it seemed a solace to die together with the enemy. Titus hastened to finish the war, but without loss to his own men, since he preferred, if he could, to spare even the enemies themselves rather than to destroy them. Nor did he urge upon the soldier anything else, except that war must be waged with counsel: that this alone was true valor, which had providence as its companion: for without counsel courage seemed rashness, and nowhere was more caution needed than in victory.

For that the superior should perish along with the inferior is the triumph of the defeated. One must take care, therefore, that it should not seem to have been mere chance that he had conquered; nor cowardice, that he had not escaped the sharing of danger. He therefore ordered the ram to be brought up to the middle of the northern wall.

There was there one Castor, cunning and ready for deceit, who, when the others had been put to flight by the missiles of the archers, together with other companions in a fresh piece of trickery, pretended to remain. When he perceived that by the ram’s blow the tower was overturned, the wall was giving way, and would easily fall if the blow of the engine were repeated, he stretched out his hands and begged Caesar in a pitiable voice now to spare the city about to perish, and not to think it should be shaken to its final destruction. Caesar judged that he was earnestly begging for pardon: intending to grant terms so that surrender might take place first, he ordered the blows of the engines to cease, and the javelin-throwers to hold back from battle. He gave Castor opportunity to speak. He pretended to descend, then as though persuading his own men: some willing, others resisting, and suddenly, as though indignant at being compelled, striking themselves upon their breastplates, they fell down.

A great marvel—while the deceit lay hidden, they spent time thus. Meanwhile one of the Roman soldiers struck Castor’s nose with an arrow. He then began to lament and complain before Caesar, demanding that someone be ordered to give him a right hand, so that he might make use of it as a refuge. Caesar entrusted the matter to Josephus; but he, being wary of the treachery of the Jews, replied that he perceived nothing sincere in the man. Aeneas, however, came up closer to the wall, and ran to receive him as he approached. But Castor, shouting to him to open his bosom to receive gold, dropped a stone. He, with watchful eyes, foresaw the stone, and by a quick leap of his body escaped the fall: yet another standing nearby was crushed under the huge ruin of the stone. Seeing this, Caesar pressed more fiercely to the throwing down of the walls, ordering the engines to be driven with greater force. Meanwhile fires were hurled to burn the machines.

But when the wall was breached, Castor with his men threw himself as it were into the fire, coloring by this trick a pretense of greatness of soul in contempt of death, while by base deceit he sought escape for his life.

Now one wall—the third—remained, the other two having been overthrown; yet Caesar still reserved his patience, for he had perceived that whatever perished would be his own loss. While he spared them and called them to surrender without awaiting a formal assault, rushing upon the second wall with a few men, the Jews, gathering in a band, wounded a great many in the narrow passages: many indeed died on both sides. Then Caesar from a distance pierced the resisters with arrows: among the crowded ranks no missile ever went astray, no blow was without a wound. Thus the Jews began to withdraw, and Titus recalled his men. And famine was now pressing heavily upon the city. Yet the Jews, as though victors, because they had withdrawn within the second wall, boasted as if the Romans had been driven off: but they could neither repair what had fallen nor defend what was about to fall. Still they held out a little while. There was fighting for three days at the second wall.

On the fourth day, unable to withstand Roman valor, they fled back within the third wall. Caesar meanwhile ordered restraint from assault, but commanded the second wall to be thrown down. And since the greater part of the war remained, he decided that the soldiers should bring up their own provisions for themselves, lest want should press the victors and need afflict them. For four days the soldiers gathered in grain: and at the same time it seemed a fitting occasion, should the Jews take counsel for themselves, that they might turn back. And indeed the people were inclined to this, but the leaders of the sedition, reflecting on the grave crimes they had committed against the populace, since they hoped for no place of pardon, judged it lighter to perish with all than that they alone, the instigators, should perish.

Therefore on the fifth day, since nothing peaceable was offered by the Jews, Caesar attacked the walls with a twofold advance: and he ordered two ramparts to be raised, one against the Antonia, the other against the wall that faced the tomb of John. For by that one the destruction of the upper city lay open: by the other, if he had taken the fortress, he would easily gain possession also of the temple. And unless he brought this under his power, he could not even hold the city without danger. Titus had divided his army into two divisions. On the other side likewise John and Simon had distributed between themselves the duties of defense. John defended the Antonia; Simon, with his armed men and the people of the Idumeans, kept watch at the tomb of John, and eluded all the efforts of the besiegers from the higher ground by whatever means he could.

And now they were more practiced, having been taught by misfortunes to meet the engines of siege; they themselves had also adopted many kinds of engines with which to destroy the Roman works and hinder what had been begun. Caesar, perceiving their headlong obstinacy, wished to mingle words with his works, lest perhaps out of despair of pardon they should resist the more stubbornly, and so that by hope of the promises they might be brought to desist. He therefore began to urge them not to involve themselves in the destruction of a captured city, but to yield it to his power—since it was already held by arms, and hemmed in by the encircling siege was pressed toward final destruction—promising that he would grant pardon to those who yielded: if only they would take thought either for themselves or for their homeland, that the whole city might not be destroyed. He also charged Josephus to address the citizens in their native tongue, so that he might perhaps sway his own countrymen, that they should renounce their own madness.

And though Josephus knew the hatred of the Jews poured out against him, nevertheless, standing as far from the walls as an arrow’s throw would allow, yet near enough to be heard, he addressed to the citizens, in speech familiar to them, words meant for their benefit.

It has been, O Hebrews, characteristic of human obstinacy to contend before the matter has come to its final extremity, while you suppose yourselves superior by reason of place and the aids of a familiar region: though it is agreed that the Romans, unconquerable in war, are not to be provoked by arms, by whom those who had conquered you have often been conquered: yet still the improvident mind of men has this failing in prosperous affairs, and likewise because the outcome of war is often uncertain; and so each one, though weaker, commits himself to valor. Finally, when the walls have been overcome, you do not suppose that the destruction must proceed even as far as the temple. Spare the altars, spare the shrines, spare the dwelling once heavenly. For now God himself has abandoned you, because you have abandoned the worship of piety. In the midst of the temple we have endured war; fires roaming around encircle the temple: but not as they used to be surrounded—now by armed men.

Yet still, keeping their hands pure of sacrilege, the Romans wish to spare it, and neither to defile the sacred doorposts nor to abolish the ancient rites, if you will allow it: what further is being waited for? Two walls are overthrown, the third remains, and it is weaker than the two that fell. Is divine aid hoped for, and help from the inner sanctuary? But he who used to defend us has gone over to the enemy: since him whom we worshipped, the Romans venerate, we have offended. Who indeed does not know that God is with those who have subjected all things to themselves, except what is impassable by excessive heat or cold?

And so, outside the Roman empire—for it is undeniable that the same God gave power in turn to different peoples beyond human custom: first to the Egyptians, afterward to the Jews, and He was helper also to the Assyrians and the Persians: afterward He turned to the Romans, and has remained with them; finally all kingdoms yielded to them, the whole earth was given into their possession. What have you to do with the victors of the whole earth, whom the secret places of the ocean and the farthest parts of India obey? Why should I bring in the Britains, separated by the intervening sea from the whole world, and brought by the Romans into the circle of the earth? Scotland trembles before them, which owes nothing to the mainland: Saxony trembles, inaccessible amid its marshes, and hedged about by pathless regions.

Though this people seems to increase the concern of war, and has itself frequently come, a captive, to Roman triumphs: it is said to be a most vigorous race of men, excelling others; yet it relies not on strength but on piratical skiffs, prepared rather for flight than for battle. But you reply that it is better to die than to lose liberty. When did this opinion come upon you, O Jews? Or when among the Hebrews was useful servitude ever not preferred to useless liberty? Jacob the patriarch himself led the Hebrews down into Egypt lest they perish by famine. The patriarchs went down, together with his twelve sons, those glorious beginnings of our race. There was that noble Judas, of the lineage of the Jews, who gave his name to the people. There Joseph, exalted upon chariot and horses, preferred to submit himself to another’s power, that he might feed his own, rather than return to the freedom of his own origin.

There Benjamin, detained by his brother’s pious deceit, consented to the trick: because it was no crime to serve those more powerful. There their inheritance, though called by Moses, still desired to cling. Thus even hard servitude was not displeasing to your fathers, so that it was preferred to dangers. You served the Egyptians, then, and would that it had been but once! But you did not serve only then, when you preferred the sustenance of extreme servitude to the rains of heavenly food: but afterward too, conquered and captive, you went down into Egypt, when you fled from the Assyrians. You served the Assyrians also through many courses of years, and that servitude was sweet. You served the Macedonians, the Persians, the Seleucids, the Palestinians: do you think only the Romans burdensome to you, whom even those serve, whom you used to serve? Do you owe them, then, hatred or gratitude, who made you equal to your former masters?

I think this is your vindication, not your disgrace; because they have avenged you upon those to whom you were subject. The Assyrian is pressed by servitude, who once commanded all Asia. The Egyptian plows for the Romans, reaps for another what is his own. Macedonia, which, having conquered Persia, had spread its dominion even to the Indians, now acknowledges masters it once did not know, and remembers in vain that it gave its kings the name of the Aeacidae. Certainly it yielded to none but the Roman triumph, to whom even Pyrrhus himself, bearing both the lineage and the name of the offspring of Achilles, conquered in arms, so submitted himself in eagerness to earn peace that he begged for pardon. For why should I speak of the Palestinians, whom the power of a single governor restrains? Ungrateful ones, is it not your nobility to serve along with the Persians? For this is to serve together with you—kings, and to have the greatest kingdom as a companion in subjection.

But I ask, when were you free, you who now refuse servitude? When, then, were you free? Or when you ruled over others, while you yourselves were under a king? You had God as king, you rejected his kingdom, under which alone you were free; you wished to serve men. Why do you tear up the covenants of your fathers? The inheritance is rebellious even against the fathers. You chose a king whose name was Saul. When he was slain, the Palestinian people ruled over you: afterward, in time, David succeeded to the kingdom of the whole people, gentler indeed than a lord, but a lord nonetheless; before David found rest, he too imposed a king upon the nation. Again under Solomon the kingdom was split into two, and the inheritance of dominion was divided through a long succession. To pass over the captivities, Cyrus restored many Jews to their lands and to their rites.

But your fathers, when they were worn down by grievous wars with the Persians, though ennobled by the triumphs of the Maccabees, chose for themselves alliance with Rome. The divine Scripture holds the compacts of many embassies. You became friends of the Romans, you who had been slaves of the Persians. But again you preferred to have a king rather than a high priest, whom the people should obey, since the cruelty of your kings was intolerable: when Herod died, when Archelaus was expelled, you asked to be under Roman Caesar. You handed yourselves over to Caesar, whom you all served, to exchange your servitude for a better one.

For in the common condition of all, to serve is a kind of freedom: since the obedience of servants is ennobled by the dignity of those who rule; although the Romans, being the authors of liberty, do not demand servitude, since they not only killed a cruel king, but also would not endure a proud one; and therefore among them the name of empire is august, because it increases its own, not because it oppresses others. But suppose it were advantageous for you not to obey Roman rule: let us see whether it is free, whether it is not deadly. Roman armies press upon you, the ruin of your homeland presses, the destruction of the temple presses; weigh not what is desirable, but what is possible. For it is not the semblance of wishes but the reckoning of possibility that must be weighed.

The same law of nature indeed is instilled in all creatures—men, birds, wild beasts—that each should yield to the more powerful: the bull to the lion, the stag to the bear, the roe to the leopard, the hawk to the eagle, the dove to the hawk, the young bull itself inferior to the bull, the flocks of sheep to the ram, the goat to the he-goat: lest there seem to be any difference of kind, you too must yield to the more powerful. Yet the Romans expel no one; you have expelled others; nay rather they take care that even the conquered should not leave their own lands: they preserved a part of the kingdom for Antiochus. And now what else does Caesar labor for, except that your land should not be abandoned, your region not emptied, your city not overthrown, your temple not burned? Victory is not given to all. Nature gave to a few the right to rule, to the many to obey. Bulls are eminent among herds, rams among flocks.

Preeminence belongs to the few, gentleness to the many. And do you too put on gentleness, take up subjection, which even wild beasts put on.” When Josephus said these things, they reviled him from the wall. They cursed him for urging what was useful. Many even shot arrows, if they might strike him down with death. But he, since he could not bend the untamed by speech, thought they should also be met with the testimonies of the Scriptures, especially since they kept saying that God would not fail to defend His own temple.

Rash men, do you now at last hope that divine help will be present to you, when you have thrown everything into confusion with war, have violated the altars, have torn down the fortifications of the whole city? Rash men, I say, and forgetful of your own former helps, you have prepared shields and swords, and this against the Romans. Not by such arms were you accustomed to conquer. For when was the victory of the Hebrews in spear and sword? Remember whence you sprang, and from whom you are descended, how your fathers conquered their enemies. Rash men, what helper have you cast away for yourselves, while you demand foreign aid? Not in multitude of people, but in the fear of God did father Abraham enter Egypt; and when he saw the chastity of his abducted wife made captive, he nevertheless abstained from war, took up the arms of pious prayer, employed a defender who, while he slept, might conquer, and having vanquished the enemy might restore to him his wife unstained.

Sarah returns without arms, bringing to her husband a triumphal victory. Abraham slept, and Pharaoh was tormented. Sarah feared, and Pharaoh denied the crime. He cast out the stranger's wife, and, the crime being condemned, honored the chastity which he had desired to despoil. Gold and silver were added to Sarah's honor, so that it might condemn the pleasure that had lacked the deed. Abraham was asked to intercede with the Lord on behalf of his household. For his house was barren. Sarah returns richer, her honor safe: Abraham returns more holy, who had received recompense for conjugal chastity in the remedy of barrenness. What shall I say of his son Isaac? He too, relying on his father's protection, against the insolence of a powerful neighbor, did not lead forth armed battle-lines: and yet he had a strong band of three hundred and eighteen home-born servants, which had overcome five kings in war, stripped them of their spoils, and restored captive Lot to his uncle Abraham.

He did not draw the sword from its sheath, but put on only patience against those who envied him, and returned simplicity for hostility: those who had announced his destruction came begging; those who could not bear a neighbor asked for friendship. I tremble to recount such wonders of the fathers: holy Jacob, when his brother Esau threatened fratricide, left his homeland, forsook his parents, carrying with him only the provision of prayer; and rightly, when in foreign places he feared his brother's ambushes, and lacked the company and help of men, he found the counsel of Angels: brought (as it is said) to the camp of God, he wrestled with the Lord: and as Scripture says, "He prevailed with God", he who reckoned himself unequal to men. What else did Moses do against the king of the Egyptians and his army and his dragons, but merely raise his rod? O powerful rod, which covered the sky with darkness, flooded the earth with rains, dried up the waves of the sea!

The Egyptians surrounded the Hebrews, Moses prayed and did not fight: the sea was divided, and the people entered, Pharaoh followed. Moses, standing amid the waves, prayed: Pharaoh was drowned with his men, Moses sang. Who, considering these and like things, would not marvel, and understand that in prayer we have better arms than in valor? For the one calls upon divine help for itself, the other, bodily help. These arms, which are not carnal but mighty for God, were learned by the disciple of Moses and his successor, Joshua son of Nun, who, an imitator and equal of his master, turned back the waters of the Jordan: and he, when he saw the impregnable walls of the city of Jericho, ordered the priests to sound the trumpet, and the people to shout for joy: whereupon suddenly the walls fell and the city was burned, and all were slain, except those whom the faith of Rahab the harlot defended from the destruction of the aforesaid city.

Gideon too chose three hundred men for war, and commanded them to carry not arms, but mysteries: to hold in the left hand pitchers full of water, in the right torches: struck by this sight, the enemies fled at once, and victory came to the Hebrews. The care of sacred religion had been interrupted by the negligence of the priest Eli, the divine commands were being forsaken: a battle was inflicted by the Philistines, the Hebrews were conquered, even the ark of God was captured, and it was returned to them without arms: by which sign it became clear both that arms without religion do not conquer, and that religion conquers without arms.

King Hezekiah, when the people of the Assyrians had poured into the nation of Judea, having learned well enough, from the voice of Rabshakeh by command of King Sennacherib, what insults were being hurled against God, what against the people, what utter destruction was being announced: believed, upon being urged, that words should not be answered with words, nor arms with arms: but rising, he clothed himself with sackcloth as with a shield: for a helmet he covered his head with ashes: instead of javelins he hurled prayer. The prayer ascended, the Angel descended, in the night the Assyrians were slain, we counted 185,000 corpses; we did not see the one who struck them. I had passed over the five kings, who, having undertaken war without consulting the Lord, traveling through the desert, began to be grievously afflicted by lack of water, and thirst tormented both them and their horses. Necessity compelled the neglected duty to be restored.

For the king of Israel was negligent concerning the worship of God: yet, being admonished by others to seek the prophet of the Lord, he learned that Elisha was not far from the places where they were staying: they sent to beg the help of prayer, and remedies for their need. Although the king of Israel had offended him, because in his faithlessness he did not believe, he nevertheless promised both abundance of waters and speed of victory. Water began to flow through the desert, and streams spontaneously poured themselves over the lands without any rains. The adversaries, rising—whom a deeper sleep, their anxiety relaxed, had oppressed in careless confidence of victory—suddenly saw, as the sun poured forth, the waters glowing red: there were some who thought that battle had been fought among the peoples of the kings, and that the earth was soaked with their blood.

And so, hastening everywhere to plunder, without order, without measure, running, one outstripping another, thus rushing headlong into the midst, they were surrounded by the enemy, and being slain, dealt a huge slaughter upon their own; thus the prophet, exhorted by our fathers, drove away thirst and fear alike, and likewise brought help against famine. For when Samaria was besieged, and the king of Israel remained shut up within it, a grievous famine pressed them, so that they did not even abstain from unspeakable food: the prophet was approached because of the deformity of such great misery; and likewise, when the king's messenger, who thought that the famine had grown through the prophet's dissembling, came, he answered: "On the next day you will see both abundance of grain and its benefit," the Holy One. Ibid.

To the messenger who did not believe, he said: that he indeed, because he would not believe, would not see it, yet the faithfulness of the promises would not fail: and suddenly during the night in the camps of Syria the neighing of horses, the crash of chariots, the roar of running war-cars, the clash of arms struck fear into the victors when heard, because they thought many and powerful nations had come to the aid of the Hebrews, and they hastened by flight to save themselves from the danger which, as they supposed, threatened them. Night hastened the resolve, and increased the terror. And so, with the Assyrians fleeing, all the supplies which they had seized were found the next day in the camp. Abundance produced advantage, advantage fulfilled the promise: death indeed snatched the fruit from the unbeliever himself, yet it did not hinder the general remedy.

It is clear, therefore, that very many leaders of the fathers, though they scarcely fought, obtained victory: others too were superior in war; to whom, when they consulted, the right to wage war was granted by oracle. Thus Amalek was conquered; but when Moses raised his hands: Joshua the son of Nun conquered, when he made the sun stand still: Gideon also conquered, when he had tested by water those who were to fight: Samson too, while he still kept his hair untouched: Samuel also conquered, but when he proposed to set up a stone as a helper.

David triumphed, when he had joined Bathsheba (that is, the daughter of the sabbath) to himself in marriage by prophetic ministrations: he conquered also in civil war, which he shrank from bringing on—he did not bring it on (for nothing is more foul than civil war) though alone he could have brought it on: Asaph also conquered in battle, but after he said to his despairing men, who thought themselves inferior in number, that it made no difference whether they were few or many, since God makes the few who fear him stronger than the many. Good indeed in faith, if he had persevered to the end. A woman too conquered by arms, who kept her faith reserved to God. But Saul was conquered, because he did not keep God's command. Josiah was wounded, because he went out against the enemy contrary to command; yet holy nonetheless, and therefore taken away, lest he should see the captivity owed to our sins.

Necho cried out: I am not sent against you, bearing witness to his faith; but he was involved, as Amaziah before him, in the fellowship of a degenerate alliance. Finally he had also been warned by the man of God to dismiss those whom he had hired for a hundred talents of silver as allies in war, if he wished to win. When he hesitated, because he would lose so great a sum, the prophet answered that the Lord had more, whence he might also restore that silver to him: relying on this, he sent back the hired auxiliaries, and won with fewer troops; yet he did not even pay to God the reward for so great a victory: but at once he offered sacrifices to those very idols which he, as victor, had taken, as though by their favor he had conquered, though he had reduced them to the spoil of captivity.

Zedekiah himself, when the ruins of his country were already pressing down, being approached through the prophet Jeremiah while he was hard pressed by the enemy's siege, was told not to fear to go out from the city, and that he would be victor if he obeyed the heavenly commands: or would be captive if he thought he should defend it; by unbelief he deceived himself and his people. The people of the Jews had been led away by the Assyrians into Babylon: the rest, who had remained, deliberated about transferring themselves to the Egyptians. The Lord commanded through the prophet Jeremiah and others that they should be content with the rule of one nation, lest a doubled captivity increase their misery. But they, disregarding the oracles of God, became captives of two nations, they who had impatiently desired to escape the yoke of one nation. And so they persevered as exiles in Egypt.

But those who were led into Assyria, when the time of captivity which the Lord had appointed for the sins of the people was fulfilled, afterward, under the rule of Cyrus, obtained the opportunity of returning, and returned with favor. The temple of God was renewed, by the resources of kings, by the gifts of Cyrus and Darius and the other Persians: and so those very ones who had overthrown it gave the cost of its repair, restored also the right of the priests, and aided the practice of religion. But indeed our own people, while they compete among themselves for the priesthood, and court the Parthians in order that this honor be conferred on them, have made a matter of trade out of religion. Why do we complain of the Babylonians? We have found our own people worse. They restored to us every right of religion, they restored the appointment of priests, and our own people have poured it back to the Persians.

They allowed the priestly fillets to remain in our own power, our people have made them tributary to the Babylonians. What shall I add of the sanctuary stained with blood, the sacred thresholds soaked, the still half-ruined pinnacles of the temple standing? Less is the wrath of God against us than our own strife: that made us captives, this made us sacrilegious: that scattered the Jews, this has destroyed them. Compare, if you please, what difference there is between our captivity and our sedition. Our captivity poured out to the nations a share in our religion: our sedition has taken away from the Jews themselves even the grace of religion. Who brought the Romans into Judea, except the strife of Hyrcanus and Aristobulus? Who brought Sosius, except Herod? Who brought Antony, except Sosius? Who begged Caesar for a king for yourselves, except you? Who else but you drove Antipater from the kingdom, and freedom along with Antipater? And yet I do not blame, nor do I deny, that Florus counseled wickedly against you.

But a complaint should have been brought to the Romans, not arms. You spurned Nero, but Vespasian had succeeded him: who, kind by nature, could have been even kinder by design, because he had assumed rule in Judea; or if piety did not move you, his virtue at least ought to have driven you to take counsel for yourselves. But how would he not spare you, who spared Joseph? For to whom ought he to have been more hostile than to me? Who built greater fortifications against the Romans? Who thought more zealously that one must fight for one's country?

After the condition of warring pleased you, indeed I did not approve the beginnings of the wars, but I did not abandon what had been undertaken: witness the ashes of the city of Jotapata, which still covered me while fighting, that I did not desist from the war except after the ruin of that city: that I hid, as long as I could, in that tomb of the overthrown city, that I endured hunger, so as not to hand myself over to the Romans: that I sought means of escape to come to you: but being caught, not having gone out of my own will, I preferred to perish with my own people, yet Caesar spared me: I wished rather to risk danger with you, not because I approved the plan, but because I chose the fellowship of danger with you.

Thanks be to God, however, that I did not fall into partnership in so great a crime, lest I be thought an instigator of the seditions: or because I could not mix with them, I would either accomplish by my own hand a parricide I could avoid, or fulfill death. Certainly, so that I might not see my most holy mother torn apart for my sake, and the innards of my own people scattered—pitiable indeed, yet it is more tolerable to suffer these things than to have done them. What then are you still waiting for? Signs of your ancestors, perhaps? We have not their merits, not their services toward the worship of God. Not the same unfaithfulness on the part of the Romans as that of the Assyrians, who, having received a price for their departure, broke faith: nor did they think they should withdraw, but should press on more fiercely. Indeed, that we may gather from events the movement of the divine sentence, it is certain God is against the Jews.

For instance, Siloam, which before the war had been dry, and all the springs' veins outside the city, which had long ceased to flow, so that water was lacking for our use unless sought at a price: now they return to their own uses, and pour themselves out to Titus as he approaches. Rich veins gush forth, and thus all things are filled with overflowing waters, so that not only does the army have abundant water to drink, but also the horses, warriors, and pack animals, and all the flocks, and even the gardens' irrigation lacks no abundance of water: so that you would believe that, as it were with the elements themselves striving, more generous streams are poured out for the Roman victory. We recognize the earlier portents, which even then preceded the captivity of our city: water ceased for the Jews, poured itself back to the enemies, lest the siege be hindered by thirst. Nor is it strange, if divine grace withdrew from the Jews, whom such great crimes surrounded.

Does not indeed a good man flee a lodging full of horror? And does he not desert his own house, if he recognizes that some crime has been committed in it? He avoids the company of an unworthy dwelling, he curses the iniquities of those dwelling there: and do we doubt concerning the supreme and immaculate God, that he abhors the contagion of such great crimes: and turns away from the atrocity of deadly wrongs, nor lingers in the assemblies of parricides, he who commanded that Dathan and Abiram, because they had provoked Moses and Aaron by usurping the office of priesthood, be separated from the innocent, lest either a stain contaminate the pious from fellowship with the guilty, or punishment involve them? But why do I linger longer in speech, when all things are poured round with horror and groaning, and the destruction of the temple hastens on? What eyes can behold this, what sense endure it, what mind can bear it?

O you harder than rocks, more rigid than iron, who amid such great portents of human affairs still contend among yourselves as though in rivalry of virtue over crime; and, what is more grievous, you yourselves destroy your own country, and increase its ruin! Turn back at last, come to your senses at last, judge, and see the beauty of the country which you are betraying: what a city, what a temple, what dwellings of the saints, and inner sanctuaries of sacred things, what works of the prophets are being torn out by your own hands! Does anyone bring flames upon these things, and scatter fires and supply conflagrations, and is not moved by any feeling? The hardness of rocks, if it could feel, would melt. Certainly even insensible things often, in the greatest bitterness of events, measure out a semblance of feeling, so that cliffs tremble, and drops flow wet with blood: but you remain unmoved, so that what better thing might remain after this, what worthier thing you might reserve.

Finally, if these things do not move you, because among the pious they are of greater weight, at least have pity on your own kindred: set before your eyes the deaths of your sons, whether by sword or by famine: and, more bitter than these, the slavery of your wives and daughters, for whom freedom will be safe, by a pact of surrender, or captive slavery by the overthrow of the city. Take counsel while it is permitted, lest you leave behind after death graver things than you did before death. Nor am I myself free from danger of this kind. I know too that, together with your own, my most holy mother is in peril, and my dear wife, of no ignoble family, and once a famous house. And perhaps you think I urge these things on account of my own people: kill them, and take besides as your reward my own blood: I will gladly pay this price for your safety, if after me you can be wise.

Josephus, having cried these things out with tears, moved many of the people, so that they fled to the Romans, having sold what they possessed. Titus directed these, each according to his desire, so that the rest too might be encouraged to hand themselves over to the Romans without fear. And so they flocked together, having found the means of going out, secure of their safety, if they came to the Romans: and unconcerned about slavery for whom liberty would be preserved. But those who followed John and Simon, the arbiters and instigators of the sedition, feared more the penalties of their crimes than the adversities of war: and therefore they thought refuges unsafe for themselves. Not only did they themselves not dare to go out, but they also laid ambushes, so that none of the people might be allowed to leave the city. And greater was their concern to guard against the departure of their own, than against the entrance of the Romans. Thus they were held against their will; and if anyone was caught, he paid grave penalties.

A slight suspicion was cause for a most grave death. Truth was not sought by proofs, but by torments. If any were wealthy, they were seized for death on a trumped-up charge of sedition: if any were poor, because they had nothing with which to ransom themselves, they were exposed to death.

And now grievous famine had begun to rage, and sedition to spread yet more fiercely with fury and madness: no corn was to be found, no bread in public use. Wherever any was discovered to be, the house was straightway stormed. The master of the house was slain, as one who had hidden the corn he had stored. Again, when no grain was found, tortures were applied, as though it had been more carefully concealed. Many longed for the shortening of death, whenever hunger afflicted them or cruelty tormented them. Indeed those who were older, men disdained even to kill, grudging them the benefit of death—men whom hunger, now a fiercer executioner, with pitiable wasting had eaten away their flesh and clothed their bare bones with thinness. Half-dead they still breathed with life alone, and dragged their sickly bodies like corpses. Wherever they had seen the refuse of vegetables, whether fallen by chance or thrown out as withered, those still feeble in body would lick with their mouths what lay upon the ground.

Or wherever grass was seen growing between the walls, they would seize it and console their wretched hunger with its unhappy juice. Those who were richer bought a measure of wheat with their whole estate. For what should they keep back, since it would profit them nothing? The poorer bought barley, and this in such wise that no one was seen either selling or buying. For this was punished more severely than any crime. Nor indeed was the process of baking bread awaited, lest death should forestall it, or delay summon an informer. Hidden away in secret places, those who had any, even a small, supply of grain chewed it uncooked. There was no table, no seat, no light: lest anyone should come upon them and catch them unawares. If any sound was heard, the food was hidden away: solitude was suspected, gatherings were murderous: among their own kin there was a grim contest. For hunger excludes every affection, and above all shame; for to the starving, modesty is a loss of life, and a detriment to safety.

If any man who had a wife, or children, or grandchildren, had some food, he scarcely admitted it: and likewise the women. But he whose spirit was gentler, when he had set out nourishment, had it wrenched from his hands. Pitiable was the food, tearful the meal: sons snatched it from parents, parents from sons, and it was pulled from the very throat. For many, the vomit of others was food. No horror kept any from taking what was already decaying; no shame kept them from taking from their own the last drippings of life. And this so unhappy spectacle of calamity had as its dread that it might be discovered. Thus it was carried on behind closed doors, lest anyone should come upon them who might seek food from another's mouth, and in the manner of dogs lick with his tongue the vomit of others. But not even this went unpunished: for wherever doors were watched, the trick of hidden food was suspected.

The agents of the factions would spring forth, storm what was shut, and exact intolerable and newly-invented cruelties of punishment. Not even the private parts of the body were spared. The punishment passed through those parts too, because in them the sense of pain is more severe. Many, when they saw the executioners already bursting in, seized the food that was ready, lest they themselves be cheated of their last provision for the journey, or at least might avenge the death to come: and the cruelty seemed the more grievous in that those who snatched the food from the starving were not themselves hungry. For by plunder they had heaped up for themselves the wealth of others, and fed upon what others had stored, while those who had gathered it were themselves starving and wasting away with fasting.

If any woman, moved by motherly affection, pitying the wailing of an infant, wished to pour the juice of food from her own mouth into its mouth, she paid the penalty for this dutiful deed, and, with the child hanging at her neck or clinging to her breast, both were transfixed together. Many too, thinking it a mercy to die, went out of the city to pluck herbs, or feed on roots, or strip the bark from trees, if any greenness in these might supply some comfort of food—and the Romans, finding them, killed them. But he who had escaped the enemy would collapse right at the threshold of the gate, wasted by hunger and too feeble in mouth, since even the very function of chewing had already failed him. Those too who returned were met by a band more savage still, which, sought at the utmost peril from the bosoms of the wretched, would wrench away by the most bitter wickedness what they carried, without reserving even a portion as reward for the danger.

Thus they died more by the assault of their own people than of the enemy. For what even the enemy had allowed, a fellow citizen would snatch away: yet it did not even profit them to have seized food of this kind, since not long after, their bodies swelling though still full of life, they were shaken by pain in their inmost bowels; or, their bowels loosened, they failed as their strength was exhausted, so that they came to repent of what had for a time been a comfort, afterward a torment: then, boiling green lizards and the skins of other kinds of serpents, they added plague to plague. For if by chance they found the carcasses of horses, they would drag them between themselves and fight fiercely over them: nor were even the deaths that were thus piled up struck down by the enemy.

For when very many, going forth from the city with their children and wives, had betaken themselves to that region where the depth of steep precipices curved away, the Romans, leading them off as if captive slaves, would strike down especially those of lesser age as though they were the stronger, lest anyone might dare to slip past those at war. They watched, so that if anyone, in the diligence of seeking food while searching out wild roots, should venture farther afield, he might be intercepted. Yet even though the enemy was all around, those whom hunger gave boldness could not restrain themselves: since the affection of parents could not bear to see their little children wasted by leanness, and their mouths opened in vain from hunger—parents who had taken them as companions in danger, lest, as hostages for their own flight, they should be slain by the authors of the sedition. Hunger compelled them to go forth, for whom it was a mercy to perish by the sword rather than by comparison with famine.

The Romans, on the other hand, thinking them despisers of death, pressed on with kinds of punishment, first scourging them, then also afflicting with the gibbet of the cross whomever they happened upon, so that by the very spectacle of torments the recklessness of the rest might be recalled from insolent provocation. Pitiable therefore did this suffering seem to Titus, the bitterness of such great calamities. Countless numbers were taken; nearly five hundred a day were tortured, and they lined the fields before the city with the array of a pitiable procession, so that they might be seen from the walls. The Romans pitied them, the Jews were not moved: the enemy felt compassion, their own allies were not bent: piety was more easily found among adversaries than among allies. Yet many were kindled with indignation, because in such great evils they became worse, seeing men afflicted in various ways: and such various kinds of punishments, forms of torment, in so countless a multitude, that now there was no place left for gibbets, no gibbets left for bodies.

Within, Simon raged, John roared, and through their agents they laid ambushes for individuals: if anyone attempted to flee, he was dragged along the ground and torn apart. Even the relatives of those who had gone were tortured, or the corpses of many, fixed to crosses, were displayed to their kin who had escaped. On the other side too, they themselves had lined the wall with a kind of crop of gibbets, as though triumphing over their adversaries, whenever they discovered any of their own who wished to flee to the Romans, so that fear of transgressing might come upon the rest. No place was free from bitterness: outside, captivity; within, famine; dread on both sides; yet arms were feared less than torments, and it was lighter to be finished off by the tumult of the enemy rather than by parricide. Nor did Caesar cease to invite the leaders of the factions to hope of surrender.

For, having built up the siege-mounds, he announced that the completion of the work would not be far off; that destruction impended over the city; let them take counsel for themselves, that they might both win safety, and the temple be snatched from the flames. That they might more readily believe this, several Jews, with their hands cut off, were sent back, lest they should be thought to have crossed over to the Romans by voluntary desertion, and lest, as though faithless, their own people should refuse them trust, or should themselves kill them. But they, in return for this diligent warning, hurled back grievous reproaches: that the humanity of Caesar seemed more deadly to them than his cruelty; since the one took away liberty, the other life; that they would rather die free than live as slaves: that they had devoted their soul in the temple. That there would be immortality for them, if, burnt along with the temple, they should die together with the altars and hearths of their fathers.

That Titus had accomplished nothing: he had taken away small things, and given greater; that in place of the temple, paradise would succeed for them, and that they who had fought for the temple of God would be translated thither: only, that they should not see with their own eyes the Roman triumphs, nor bow their captive necks under the yoke. That their little ones were being consecrated, not slain, whose parents had been defenders of the heavenly mysteries. All the more moved by this, Titus, that he might at least rescue those who were held against their will, ordered the siege-engines to be brought up. There was in the army the son of Antiochus of Commagene, who had come to share in the war, a young man indeed vigorous and quick of hand, but of little foresight in counsel, who, thinking the Roman army too slow, and not considering the difficulty of the task, suggested to Caesar that he wondered why the Romans delayed in breaching the wall.

Titus laughed, and said: "It is a common work." At this remark the young man rushed forth with those armed men whom he had, more ready for war in the Macedonian fashion: for he had come relying also on others. The cohort, however, which was called the Macedonian, was reckoned to excel both in bodily strength and in stature itself. As they drew near, the fighting grew fierce. Against them from the wall those contended more eagerly whom extreme danger pressed, and whom the success of the present combat encouraged: while those below were more frequently pierced by those above, not all the missiles reaching the higher ones; yet the king's son, brisk with youth, better armed, more closely attended, evaded some blows, repelled others, and was instructed by his companions who advised him to be careful: and so he remained unwounded: but of the Macedonian cohort, most, thinking it a shame to yield even to nature or to protections, fighting more stubbornly, were wounded.

And so, their attempt in vain, they withdrew from those above; taught also that if the Macedonians wished to conquer, both the eagerness of Alexander for fighting was necessary, and the outcome of victory. For he, when besieging a city while the rest delayed, and the army lingered around the customary siege-engines, briskly set up ladders and climbed the wall; and having put to flight those present who fought back from the wall, threw himself alone into the city. Nor was there time for him to open the gates for himself without a companion, since dangers pressed; but his boundless spirit, greedy for victory, leapt forward against the enemy. The ranks gave way, but how many could he alone lay low! Then through the various streets of the city the enemy poured around: if Alexander pressed upon one side, he gave to others behind him the opportunity of surrounding him. So the victor turned back his advance, lest he be surrounded by the people.

But they, crowded together, began to press upon him, and a great mass of weapons bristled above him; his helmet rang with the clash, his shield with the crash of stones. And had not the Macedonians, fearing for their leader, burst in, the conqueror of countless nations would have been overwhelmed within that small city. There was, then, such was his eagerness, that he leapt upon the wall, cast down the enemy, alone in triumphant leap flung himself into the city, put the peoples to flight by his onset: yet there was also that outcome which is most necessary to a leader, that though so many peoples rushed upon him, so many arrows' shafts, so many darts falling, there was no place for a deadly wound. Thus valor had brought danger, and eagerness too had brought on death, had the outcome forsaken the fighter. The Macedonians entered by the broken-open gate; thus rashness found victory, and the outcome turned danger into glory.

Our own David too, when he fought against the giants, having charged upon the enemy, had one behind him ready to strike; but his companion Abishai forestalled the blow as it was being aimed at the king. But Alexander, fortune preserved; the prophet, grace.

Accordingly, when the son of Antiochus, king of Commagene, withdrew, and when he recognized that the studied moderation of the Roman army was a matter not of fear but of caution—so that they might assail the wall with ramparts and mantlets, with battering-rams also and other engines—ramparts were built up, the work divided among the maniples: four chief ones had arisen, of which one, opposite the fortification called Antonia, had been carried through the middle of the pool which they called Struthion. This rampart the fifth company had made thirty cubits high, near the tomb of John. Against these, from the other side, John, the leader of the seditious, dug a mine, and undermined the Roman works: those who had contrived it being unaware that the Jews, by means of a hidden mine, since they had likewise placed timber props beneath, had suspended the upper parts of the mines, so that the whole deceit lay hidden.

And so, when the opportunity seemed favorable, they applied fire, which, fed by sulphur and pitch with which the timber supporting the mine had been smeared, easily consumed all the wood, and the collapse of what had been undermined followed. Thus the Roman works suddenly collapsed, giving forth a huge noise. Everything being filled with dust and smoke, thick darkness covered all, and the hidden cause increased the terror the more. Then, when the other materials by which it had at first been covered were consumed, the fire, now freed, burst forth and revealed the trick; and for the Romans, though the fear of present danger was diminished, a grievous weariness followed from labor wasted; at the same time no small shame afflicted them because the Jews mocked them: and for the future the hope of preparing an assault grew cold. But in another part, two days later, when the wall was already being battered by the ram, Tepthaeus from Galilee, Magassalus, and Jabenus, and Agyras, snatching up torches, rushed forth upon the siege-engines against the wall.

No men more daring, none more terrible, went forth from the city against the enemy in that war. For rushing into the midst of the enemy they did not tremble, did not draw back, but as if lingering among companies of their own kin, they thought they should not return until, though javelins, arrows, and darts were hurled at them from every side, they had set fire beneath and burned the instruments of the besieging engines. There was a great rush of the Roman army to quench the fire: likewise the shouting and eagerness of the Jews, by which they sought to prevent aid from reaching the Romans, so as to keep the fire covered. The Romans hastened to draw the rams away from the flames: the others kept spreading the fire further. Hence, everything combustible having been seized upon, the flames would have surrounded the Romans, had they not taken timely counsel. For the Jews pressed on fiercely, and by this very fact, that in that quarter their efforts had not failed, success nourished their boldness.

At last, no longer content with the fortifications of the wall, they advanced further, and attacked the very Roman guard-posts, and pressed on even to the fort where the Romans kept watch, which they of their own accord had overturned. And had not the glory of the Roman name and the ancient discipline of the army—which restrains men from abandoning such duties by fear of graver punishment—resisted the raging attackers, the very besiegers of cities would have yielded their own fortifications. Thus the aspect of the war and the manner of siege were reversed: the Romans defended themselves with catapults and swifter kinds of missiles, in order to repel the Jews, by the same sort of weapon with which they themselves had before been resisted.

In the midst of this Titus arrived, roused by the shouting, and summoned as a remedy; strength was at once added to the Romans by Caesar’s presence, and shame nourished their boldness: Titus crying out that it would be a grievous reproach to the Roman name if, the tables now turned, they should lose their own men, before whom the walls of the enemy which were being battered down had already failed: that the Jews, distrusting their fortifications, relied on recklessness alone: let the Romans only stand firm, and victory would not fail them. And so, by exhorting no less than by fighting, Titus steadied his men, turned back the Jews, who, not only prepared in spirit for death but pressing on with the very effort of their bodies, strove to make the Romans give ground.

Nor was the danger to Caesar slight amid all the confusion, since ally could not be distinguished from foe: in the midst of which Titus moved about, bold in youth, and, made keener for battle by desire of glory, so that victory might be accomplished the sooner, placed the care of his own safety second to the triumph.

Yet with the enemy driven off, counsel was divided: some thought the ramparts should be rebuilt, the siege-engines against the wall repaired: others suggested that they should desist from the dangers of the siege: that material for repair was lacking: that the danger was shared with many: they judged it more advisable that the city be shut in by a wall, so that famine might finish it off, once supplies of food had failed. This latter opinion prevailed, that they should be shut in, so that they might have no free excursions, whereby they might be worn down the more, both by despair of escape and by want of food. And so, the work divided by companies, a wall quickly rose, by which the city was enclosed all around its circuit. Caesar assigned duties to his men, so that even at night they should not omit their turns of guard.

During the first watch he himself took care to go about each rank of the guards: the second watch he assigned to Alexander: then in order the turns were entrusted to the tribunes, according to each one’s known diligence. The wall was interwoven with forts at intervals, in which bands of soldiers kept watch: the sentinels took their turns of sleep and of watching equally among themselves. At every moment they made their rounds of the wall, each within the space prescribed to his duty, from fort to fort: by rotation, and by change of duties, the night was kept busy. All hope was cut off for the Jews on every side, and, once shut in, famine poured itself upon them, and descended into the very marrow of the people. Everything resounded with the groans of those lamenting the wretched torments of death. All places were filled with the seed of corpses: and if you waited but a little, within a moment those you had found still living perished.

Even those who still breathed, wasted with leanness, bore the image of death. Drained by hunger and livid with decay, they could scarcely lift their eyes; for no vigor of natural motion remained, their substance consumed by fasting. Only the form of a man remained, its function had perished. You would behold mere images, and miss their functions. Dry skin clung to dry bones. If a slight movement betrayed one still living, the stench convicted him otherwise: their limbs were shrunken and their color so black that you would think them shadows. Nor did the wretched have means for burial, since all were first exhausted and soon to die themselves. And if fresher food gave anyone some strength, the heaping up of corpses took away hope, and forced upon them impossibility. Many even died in the act of burying the bodies of their own kin, and, the duties of that final office unfulfilled, left them abandoned along with their own death.

They fell upon the dead whom they had undertaken to bury, so that he too became a burden, who had come to lighten one, needing now the ministry that he had rendered to another. Nor was there any place for grief amid the common calamity of all, except that the authors of so great a misery survived, nor was there time for lament, even with free voices, if they could have spoken. For what indeed should the dying still fear, yet nevertheless with senses already dumb they gazed at the temple, as though vengeance for so dire an end were being demanded from it. Tears had dried up at the numbers of the dying, because the force of the calamity had shut up every feeling. The mind had grown numb, every sense clung fast, in those enduring more than could be wept for: earth was already lacking for tombs, all places within the city that could serve for burial having been dug up.

Some attempted, between the two walls, by a new gate, to go out toward the old city in the silence of night: dangerous though it was, pious thefts had persuaded them to it. And so, instead of one, many lay unburied, and that which they had striven to render to one they were cheated of as a boon owed to the good; but even where the enemy was absent, famine did its work. Often the one burying went before the one to be buried, and he who had prepared a tomb for another was himself suddenly enclosed lifeless in it: and, falling as he dug, claimed as it were by some intent of his own labor, a right to it. And where earth was lacking, planks were joined together, so that the bodies of the dead might be enclosed in coffins.

Many prepared these for themselves with their own hands, lest such a service should fail; and in these they often buried themselves of their own accord in advance, suspecting that death might come first and no burier be at hand. All was silent from fear, hunger had taken away the voice, the city was full of death, and there was no wailing at the funeral rites of the whole city: and though the very sense of grief had perished, the wrong done did not cease. Nor were there lacking, even amid such evils, men worse than all others, violators even of the buried. What shall I say, that they did not shudder to mock the dead, and to test the edge of their swords upon the corpses of the departed? Some even tried upon the bodies of the still living whether their weapons were sharp enough: and yet this use was often denied to many who begged for it, so that hunger might consume the wretched to still graver torments.

Yet vengeance was by no means lacking to the dying: for what the living could not do, the dead avenged for themselves, creating their own stench as an avenger, by which they took vengeance upon the plunderers. These, raging grievously, seeking a remedy, put on a certain semblance of piety—even those who plundered—so as to order that the dead be buried at public expense. But when this could no longer be managed, they cast the remains of the dead from the wall into the deep chasms.

And so Titus, beholding the steep pits full of corpses, the corruption floating from the torn bodies, groaned deeply; and, raising his hands to heaven, called to witness that this was by no means to be laid to his charge—he who had wished to grant pardon, if surrender had been offered: that he had waited for them to sue for peace: that he was ready to preserve them unharmed, had they laid down the war: and so he orders the ramparts to be built up again, though the woods no longer lay near, since all the suburban groves and forests had been cut down. The soldiers carried the timber, consoling their labor with hope of victory. Yet the leaders of the sedition were not broken in spirit. Simon raged, and, not sated by the deaths of so many, did not yield; and since enemies had begun to be lacking, he turned against his own allies.

Finally, he did not even kill Matthias, by whose counsel he had been received into the city, by torture—a man convicted before him of no crime, but accused of treason and suspected of a design which he had zealously and without any deceit entrusted to be communicated for the people's benefit, as though to a friend. This he kept deeply impressed for some time, and no longer trusted him as a friend, but nursed his indignation, the accusation being concealed. Therefore, on the charge laid against him at his own tribunal, that he was in eager agreement and accord with the Romans, he orders him to be seized along with his sons. He is summoned, and no opportunity of defense is given: before trial he is condemned to punishment, nor is his offspring exempted, but joined to the penalty.

He begged not for a lease of life, but for the swiftness of death, for the order of nature—that he might be killed first, so as not to witness the slaughter of his sons, nor survive the funerals of his children, himself about to be a corpse immediately after. He did not obtain what piety itself demanded, even had he not asked. This he asked to be granted him as a reward, because he had opened the city to him—guilty indeed toward his fatherland, but the one who brought Simon in. Simon ought to have owed him this penalty owed to the citizens, yet he still owed him gratitude. How much more cruel is he, who spared neither friend nor relaxed the penalty for his patron who had procured his reception! The father is led to execution with his three children: for the fourth had removed himself by flight.

He is set up in the sight of the Roman army by way of insult, so that they might see his punishment—those to whom he had wished to go out. "Let your friends free you then, if they can." The sons too are brought down, and he is not allowed to give his children farewell kisses, nor to receive his sons in a last embrace: yet he was not deprived of a father's freedom of speech, and he addressed his sons with pitiable words. "I, my sons, brought the enemy in upon you; I employed the executioners, when I asked Simon to enter the city. That day was the cause of this death for us, that day the cause of this parricidal spectacle. I have deserved it, I confess, nor do I excuse my fault: while I was eager to check one man, I summoned a worse one. Simon was sought for help, and turned to the parricide of his fatherland: he turned zealous counsels into crime. We were guilty toward our fatherland, we who sought a defender.

And rightly indeed we pay the penalty of imprudence, yet not of treachery. Simon himself absolves us, even while he destroys us—he who declares that it was not given to him by me as a gift, but sought out of regard for the fatherland, that he might come to our aid, as quickly as possible, against the savagery of John, and bring in the Idumaeans. We thought that, with the two contending with each other, the people would become free. Who would believe me, that I did not bring this about out of my own zeal toward you, but judged this, among evils, the more tolerable—unless you should slay us? But why do I speak thus, as though excusing the crime? Nothing indeed, in my judgment, could I have done more grievous than to have set you upon our necks. But in that I was guilty toward my fatherland, not toward you. I might have owed the citizens death, but you owed me gratitude.

I might have owed my fatherland the penalty of betrayal, because I brought you in. When did I begin to be a traitor to you? If I had thought I should flee, I would have taken counsel for myself, I would not have violated my duty to my fatherland. For who does not flee an enemy, and an enemy from within? But we thought you a citizen, and found you an enemy. Sought for help, what did you repay? What did you promise beforehand? And to what did you afterward turn? You had entered in order to expel the enemy, not to act the enemy: to check his fierce onslaught, not to provoke war: to prevent the slaughter of citizens, not to add to it yourself: to repel brigandage, not to practice brigandage yourself, but to come to the aid of an innocent people. Why did you turn your arms against them? Before, they were assailed by robbery; you brought war. Before, fewer were dragged off to death; you made a slaughter of peoples.

Who was a betrayer of the fatherland, who aided the Roman arms more, than he who destroyed the fatherland's defenders? Than he who snatched away the defense of so many citizens? Than he who turned the sword from the enemy against allies? The enemy outside the walls was offering peace, you were fighting within the walls: he wished to lift the siege, you were hastening the storming: he was preventing fires in our city, you were casting flames onto the very heights of the temple: he, out of regard for our sacred rites, was granting truces, you, on the very days of the sacred festivals, were quenching the altars of God with the final destruction of the city, and even with the blood of priests: he had besieged the walls, you had besieged the temple. I will heap up my own crimes. I laid hands upon my fatherland, I armed your fury, I set in motion this whole affair by a kind of madness of old age. I acknowledge the imprudence of a demented age.

Let us lighten our shame by confession, since by denial we cannot strip off the sin. Two of us, beyond the rest, hastened the destruction of our fatherland: I by an error of counsel, you by a design of parricide. I pay, therefore, fatherland, the penalties owed to you: and for this very thing I give thanks to Simon, that I shall not survive your ashes. And would that I were not to survive my children! But to the bitterness of your crime, Simon, I stand as a witness of my sons' slaughter. I have deserved it, I confess, because I could not bear to see John painted, and I chose you armed. O headlong old age! We feared a painted image, we sought out a tyrant. I was your surety, I was your intercessor, I bore the embassy. I asked you as lord, I brought in the slayer. Let us look then at what we have done: John's wax-image terrified us, Simon's robberies delighted us.

Let the funeral procession then be hastened; let the executioner come; let him cut down the sons before their father's eyes, and the father over the corpses of his sons. Let me, a wretched old man, drink in the executioner's blow, as he brandishes the axe over the necks of my pledges. Than this spectacle nothing is more deadly, except him who commands it. Cruel one, wicked one, I do what you order, I do it, but unwillingly. Yet I have this consolation for so great a calamity: I suffer whatever is most wretched while you have ordered it; whatever is most monstrous I undergo willingly, with you as judge. You have filled up the measure of your most savage crimes: let it at least be permitted to speak to my children, to bid a last farewell to my pledges. Let there be a last place for kisses, which we have in common even with beasts. Let not the pitiable embrace of nature be forbidden, which chance can grant even to the dead.

What therefore you have ordered for punishment, let it serve me for piety. Let me fall upon my own dead, and, though as yet unburied, let me cover them as it were with a sod of my own body, lest birds tear them apart or beasts devour them. Let me lick with a father's tongue the blood of my pledges, and wash away my own, lest beasts lick it: and perhaps piety, and the very pity of nature, will add this, that dying I may clasp my children in the closest embrace: so that you cannot separate them, even though you wish. Certainly, even if you separate the bodies, you will not separate the souls. But we have now taken enough provision of tears for the journey. Go before, my sons, and prepare the way for a father who will follow. If I can overtake you, I will accompany you at once, and old age will be a hindrance there, whereby, living, I shall follow you youths the less.

Go before to our lodging, that you may receive your weary father with long hospitality. I wished indeed to go before myself, and asked it, but did not obtain it; yet, because you are innocent, better lodgings will be granted you than if I myself, the one who summoned Simon, should arrive first. That embassy weighs upon me, although mandated by the citizens, suspect because the people demanded it. Go before, then, my sons, treading the heavenly path with a purer step. Even the Maccabees went before their mother: but they to a reward, you to punishment. Yet the devoted mother watched her sons dying, and, rolling herself upon their blood, saw the brothers embracing one another by nature's necessity; and she rejoiced in her own triumph, which she won over the tyrant. Different indeed the merits of those who suffered, but the same savagery in both who commanded it. This Antiochus devised, with Persian barbarity; for among them are the inventions of new tortures.

You have carried it out; yet he preserved the mother for the last, to persuade the royal will; you have ordered the father to be kept alive for the torment of a father's grief. Console yourselves, dearest sons: we suffer what the martyrs suffered. Simon has ordained what the barbarous persecutor devised, what the tyrant commanded. Let us go forth, then, willingly, and flee the gatherings of robbers. Surely, when we have departed into that eternal home, if anyone should come to us asking what that once-people of God is doing, what shall we answer them? Especially if there should meet you, as being younger, Jonathan, whole in the flower of his age, and me, as a sinner, Saul.

What, I say, shall we say, except that that people of Judah, once new and beloved, whom the sea fled, for whom the sun stood still, before whom the Jordan yielded—that people, I say, for whom the wave was passable, the air fruitful, the earth heavenly, which did not, like this your land, put on the appearance of corruption, but assumed the grace of resurrection—now serves the Idumaeans, and is subject to Simon, chief of robbers, and has neither servitude itself secure, nor danger along with liberty? What do we think they will answer to this, who chose to perish in war rather than survive the liberty of their fatherland? What too will Mattathias answer, the founder of the Maccabees, who, in keeping the law, wished to die at rest on the Sabbath rather than live having fought? If he should hear how Simon not only carried on countless slaughters of citizens on the Sabbath, but compelled the very priests of the Lord to be slain on new moons and on all the holy days of festal celebration?

How much will Jechoniah groan, when he hears that Simon, who first overturned the city with seditions, defiled with the slaughter of citizens the ancient sanctity of the temple, so often summoned to surrender the city and free it from fire, chose rather that everything perish by destruction—the city, the temple be burned, the whole people be slain—rather than let the summit of a seized dominion be lowered! How much, I say, will Jechoniah grieve, though less fortunate in his reign, by reason of the pressing times of his elders, yet better than his son? For the father chose, though miserably, yet piously, to be less fortunate for himself than for his fatherland. And so, going out of the city with his family, he gave himself into servitude to the besieging Babylonians, lest he see his fatherland overthrown, lest he see the people of God captive. But the son, equal in hardship, unequal in disposition: while he feared for himself, brought himself into exile and the city into destruction.

This one therefore unfortunate for his fatherland, nor fortunate for himself, who lost both his children and his eyes: but the other more prudent, who redeemed the captivity of the citizens by his own captivity. Finally, the outcome taught this: the latter fell in servitude, younger; the former, older, in his reign—although afterward the Babylonian king set up a royal throne for him beside his own, and granted him the prerogative of counsel, as a solace for wretched calamity. Finally, my lot is now more tolerable—to die after the slaughter of my children, than to live: that you may know how cruel is he who slaughters sons before their father's eyes. Whose royal gifts too are worse than the wounds to piety. For either he ought not to have inflicted such impious things first, or he ought not to have substituted such honored things afterward, as though any dignity could be redeemed by the loss of children, or the slaughter of offspring compensated by any use of honor: truly no, no dignity lightens so great a grief.

No honor heals this wound, except death alone, which takes away sensation, removes memory. Hasten, then, executioner: yet delay, while I look upon my children, while, before they die, I gaze upon them: lest anyone, perhaps troubled by the immaturity of his age, should fear death, when he is escaping a more savage tyrant. It is a kindness, my sons, to die, lest we see the captivity of our fatherland: the wounds of the body are more tolerable than those of the mind. Now I look even more tolerably upon your deaths, which I used to shrink from, than I would look upon the deaths of all in common, than I would see the funeral pyre of my fatherland and the whole city as their tomb. Yet happier is he who has died, than he who has been kept back.

Highest God, let not Simon be laid low among the herds of the innocent, together with his children; let him, a captive, behold the one he has brought in: nay rather, not at all, not at all, I say; for whoever can imagine, can also bear, yet I do not pray for these things. Let him consider how great a wickedness it is, which he who suffers cannot even by wish turn back; how bitter a vengeance, how savage the enormity of the crime committed, that a captive prays to survive his fatherland, because the mockeries of life are worse than the punishments of death. But now let there be an end of words. Hasten, executioner, while you bear the sword bloodied with my sons' blood; strike the father, so that none may grow cold. This alone is medicine for one about to die; by this alone the stroke of the blade is not felt, nor the pain of the wound. Strike in the sight of the Roman army, as has been commanded, that they may watch, about to avenge.

Let the enemy pity, since my ally does not pity: let the Romans judge, since Simon kills without judgment: they themselves are witnesses that I was not a betrayer of my fatherland, but its defender—they who saw me fighting, not deserting. For my children, had I been able, I would have turned away the enemy, not summoned an enemy: and would that I had not summoned Simon either!" Nor was any end set to so great a cruelty. The children still lay unburied with their father: and sacrilege too was added to the parricidal spectacle. Ananias the priest is slain, born of illustrious stock, though no one is more illustrious in the splendor of his lineage than in the office of religion. For the one is sought after as nobility, the other is not merely desired.

Let ancient lineage have to itself the fasces of various honors; priesthoods too have their own fasces, which are raised up not by shoulders, but by character, and are exalted not by the height of rods, but by the perseverance of labors, the depth of faith, the summit of piety. Aristaeus the scribe too was slain, himself likewise of illustrious origin: and along with them fifteen others of the people, outstanding above the rest; although it is not nobility, but innocence, that makes their killing unjust. Eleven men too were seized beforehand, who had conspired together, stirred by the atrocity of his crimes; and each fearing for himself, seeing what was being done to others, since he would be faithless even to friends, and hope taken away, with all the people being wasted by famine, and the Romans on the very point of bursting in: Simon being thrown into confusion in his effort at defense, raging toward his workshop of cruelty, and by the easy allurement of betrayal, since one of them, Judas, had undertaken to guard a tower.

He therefore, when he called upon the Romans, promising to hand over the tower, some scorning it because the betrayal came so late, others doubting because he had often prepared a trick by promised surrender, Simon anticipated them, and exacted punishment from all the associates of the conspiracy: their bodies too were hurled down from the wall.

Joseph's father was held shut in, and no access to him lay open. All the more eagerly did Joseph invite the Jews to surrender, and he had advanced too rashly to the wall, that he might free his fatherland along with his father. Struck in that place by a stone upon the head, he fell, and had almost been overwhelmed by weapons hurled from above, had not men been sent at Caesar's command who, sheltering him with their shields, snatched him from death. When his mother learned of her son's wound, and was struck with dismay at the taunting voices of the brigands, she put on at once the dread and the assurance of his death; and she began to lament most pitiably: that she had been reserved for such fruits of fertility, that she might neither enjoy the service of her living son, nor bury him dead.

It had indeed been her prayer, that he rather should give burial to his mother: that in his hands she might breathe her last breath; that he should warm her cold and failing limbs, that he should catch with his lips her last gasps, that he should close her dying eyes, that he should compose her mouth while it still breathed. But since this had fallen from her prayer, it would have been a comfort if she herself at least could have been present at her son's dying last moments—by a pitiable lot indeed, but still tolerable—that she might hold at least the corpse of him whom she had wished to survive her. "Yet," she said, "let it at least be permitted me to watch my own funeral rites from the wall; and if it is not permitted me to touch them, would that at least no one hindered me! But whom should I fear, bereft of so great a son? What should I dread, for whom it is a benefit to die?

Would that all would hurl their weapons upon me, that all would pierce me through with the sword! What I could not do living, dead I shall at least cover my son's body with my own garment. One garment suffices for the burial of two; and perhaps some one of the enemy will take pity, so as to cover the mother's eyes with the son's mantle, and join eyes to eyes, hands to hands, mouth to mouth." Rushing then to the walls, she filled the very heavens with her pitiable lament. Her own people mocked her, the Romans wept: among allies cruelty, among enemies mercy. "Pierce me," she said, "if there is any piety left; I bore him whom you think should be pursued. I gave him these ill-fated breasts: destroy me, if you seek vengeance for him."

While she thus lamented, behold, at his mother's voice Joseph came forth and began to weep that he had escaped, for whom it had been sweet before to die for his fatherland, and, while urging salutary counsels, to fall for his country. But now he was not contending for the safety of parents, who, laid low by age, if in prison they meet their life's last end, are set free if they die: but he trembled for the altar, for the temple, for the still half-ruined walls of the city. He had exposed himself to the wound, lest he should see his fatherland overthrown. Stirred by this lament, very many, thinking it best to go over to the Romans, by whatever way they could, withdrew themselves from the ambushes of the brigands and the watch of those who stretched guard over them. To these indeed Titus kept the mercy he had promised, but another and heavier calamity befell them.

For when a supply of food was given, the food which had before been of use began to be a burden, and, the offices of eating having become unaccustomed, their function grew idle. There was no strength of teeth to chew food, no support of the throat's passages; they could in no way gnaw at bread. If indeed they had swallowed some softer nourishment, they were choked, the passages of the throat now being blocked. The inward parts of the bowels had grown rigid, the ducts for food were obstructed. The veins of the liver, which draw in food, had dried up. The use of eating had perished, yet the craving increased; strength had failed, yet appetite remained. The wretched fell upon the food, and, like infants, attempted feeble bites. Many, at the mere sight of food, fainted from sheer joy, and died in the midst of the food they had longed for: consoled in their misery, because they had fulfilled their wish.

But it was a lamentable spectacle, that more rose from food into danger than into safety, so that even nourishment did harm. For their bodies were rather swollen by unaccustomed food than restored, and, as it were by a disease like dropsy, with skin stretched taut, they paid the penalty. And if any still had strength for eating, their craving, knowing no measure, forced down beyond bounds what they could not bear, and, stuffed with sudden food, they burst. For what was not grievous to those for whom even a single feeling was grievous, so that it harmed them to have seen what they had longed for? For, incapable of feelings through long famine, the very sense of nature was also overwhelmed: and the very motion of joy weighed them down. It is no wonder, then, if food was dangerous to those exhausted. In fact, after a two-day fast, if you eat too eagerly, it at once turns to sickness.

Hence it is the custom of many to pour the juice of milk into weakened bowels, and to temper it mixed with honey, so as to moderate the exasperated intemperance of the humors caused by fasting, and to nourish the body's weakness, as it were a kind of infancy, with gentler food. Thus, therefore, some of the Jews who had fled to the Romans were able to survive, weighing out by a certain art the moderation of their food, until their flesh, unaccustomed to eating, returned to its former function. Yet this did not help the wretched, but was rather the cause of a greater destruction. For when many of these, having taken food, purged their bowels, some passed golden coins which they had swallowed when they were preparing their flight: lest, if caught—since the spies searched everything—they should suffer not only loss but also danger: for it was reckoned a crime for anyone except brigands to possess gold. Thus afterward the Jews, in pitiable fashion, gathered gold from among the filth of their bowels.

A certain Syrian discovered this, and from one man the report spread to all. That race of men, headlong toward avarice and ready for cunning, so that nothing is too atrocious for it to shrink from, nothing too shameful for it to blush at, out of zeal for money—the rumor spread from the Syrians to the Arabs, among whom avarice is no less, and their savagery nearer to barbaric monstrousness, because the Jews were said to be stuffed with gold: they plundered whomever they came upon among those arriving, against right, against the laws of surrender, against Caesar's promise, by which it was forbidden to kill: they cut open men still living, and with bloody hands disemboweled the secret parts of the belly. They searched the bowels, and amid its flowing filth sought for gold, no less shamefully than those whom hunger had driven to it—with the addition, moreover, of savage cruelty. Many bitter things were done in that war, but nothing more bitter than this one thing.

In fact, in a single night nearly two thousand men were torn apart by such an outrage, and, their bowels divided, Syria reckoned its gains: Arabia counted the profits of its trade, which, without the perils of a crossed sea, by a new device of cruelty they had turned into gain, and reckoned as merchandise. This too you may find even now in that sort of men, and often among certain Egyptians, who traffic in the tending of funerals, and sell the offices of humanity for the profits of trade. Wretched hunger for gold: it thinks nothing should be pursued except what is presently profitable; nothing honorable, that is void of money. Long since grievous, grievous has grown ingrained in human feelings the desire of gain, and trafficking has become the life of men: one lives by buying and selling. Thus the vice has crept into countless numbers, so that now the exchange of goods is more tolerable than that of morals and minds. The avarice of the Syrians infected even the Roman army.

For nothing passes more easily into another than the love of money, and the desire of possessing—especially of neighboring wealth, in which a neighbor had abounded. Nor is there any passion which more effeminates the strength of the soul than the desire for riches. In the end, cunning is given praise, poverty is held as a reproach. This hindered the severity of vengeance, because countless men were found guilty of such madness: and so Titus, who had proposed to encircle the Syrians and Arabs with a besieging army, in view of their great number recalled his sentence: so as to grant pardon for the past offense, and to warn of punishment lest it be committed afterward, and with harsher severity of words rebuked his own men, because, girded with gold and silver, and gleaming with precious weapons, they did not blush for their own arms, so as to dishonor them with such great disgrace.

But truly he rebuked the Syrians and Arabs, because, forgetful of the Roman name, they had devised things horrible even to tell: they had come to share in war, not to practice villainies. In the Roman army, not only strength of body but also of mind was required: not only courage against the enemy, but the standard of discipline was also regarded: that the soldier should not be cruel, not impious, not insolent: but intent rather on victory than on plunder. Such were seen as grave offenses against military discipline, and were to be avenged severely. Among arms too the laws hold force: wars are better waged by good faith, which should be kept even toward enemies. If, then, it is owed even to the armed, how much more to suppliants! Therefore let them beware of such crimes, lest they be deprived both of victory and of safety. Nor would he suffer any longer that their wicked crimes be charged to the Romans, who were more a burden than a benefit.

Thus he checked somewhat, but did not cut out, the avarice of the Syrians, so that they might escape the judge, not so that they might cherish the command. In fact, when it was first found out whether by chance a Roman soldier's presence was lacking, the accursed gain was drawn from the bowels of the wretched; yet even the outcome of plunder did not follow in all cases, but only in a few, whereby the cruelty was the more savage: because very many were slain not only for the sake of wealth, but even for the mere hope of gain: whereas brigands themselves, and pirates more savage than brigands, refrain from robbery where they perceive no plunder. For it is the mark of barbaric monstrousness alone, to do harm for nothing. For even wild beasts pursue prey only in order to kill it. Outside the walls, then, bitter punishments; within, John was more monstrous still.

In fine, while such things were being done by the Syrians, even though others were being deterred by knowledge of this made known to them, still others did not cease to desert. Among these was Manneus, son of Lazarus, who declared that through one gate entrusted to him a hundred and fifteen thousand dead had been carried out, with eight hundred eighty more funerals added, since he himself had undertaken the task of keeping watch over such matters: and that this was reckoned solely by the number of those who were buried at public expense, apart from those whom their own people had buried. And what were these burials, except that the corpses were thrown down from the wall? After him, very many men of no mean rank, fleeing to Titus, related that six hundred thousand of the dead had been counted as carried out through the gates.

But of those bodies which, because of the boundless multitude of the poor, could not be carried out, and which were heaped up in the largest houses and in the spaces of various buildings, the number was beyond reckoning. And still the progress of evils went on, which had already surpassed the end of all the former ones. Still the fierce siege, the heavy war continued: the spirits of the Jews now greater than their strength. But above all, a more hideous famine, which lay in wait for the beasts of burden as they emptied their bowels, and searched through old cattle dung; so that what was horrible to see became food for the starving.

A pitiable heap of unburied bodies, and, over a long circuit, the very earth covered with corpses, everything before the walls filled with them, a terrible sight, a heavy horror, a pestilential stench; which discerned neither victors nor vanquished: harmful to both alike, and a greater hindrance to the Romans, who were forced to trample the lying remains with bloodied footsteps: the land itself untilled, all things having been cut down which were necessarily brought in for the use of the soldier and of the siege-engines. For nearly thirteen miles around the city the ground was laid waste far and wide, and the soil bare of growing things. All that orchard region, in which formerly green groves, gardens breathing with flowers, various orchards, and suburban estates gave a pleasing appearance, if any visitor afterward saw it, he groaned: the native did not recognize it, and, returning to his birthplace, though present there, sought for his fatherland.

The embankments and siege-sheds, and the other engines of the siege, having been repaired, the fury of war was renewed; as if both sides had conspired with common zeal for the final stroke of the work. For the whole struggle was being decided at risk of everything; because for the Romans the siege would have to be given up, if the embankments and the battering-rams were burned, for which, through lack of timber, no supplies for repair were at hand: and for the Jews, the destruction of their fatherland was imminent, if they gave way in battle, when the shaken walls, under repeated blows of the rams, were being broken apart. The Jews therefore advanced with torches so fiercely, that, as though the Roman army were about to withdraw, they scattered fires upon the engines, in order to break up the siege. But their strength, already exhausted by hunger, and their resources broken, denied them their former successes; substance had failed, but audacity remained.

On the other side, for the Romans it was a greater disgrace, if victory should be snatched from their hands by men who were drawing their last breath from hunger. Battle having been joined, the leaders of the sedition, repulsed, fled back, unequal in war, to the support of the walls. But when, by repeated blows, the fall of the wall hung in doubt, John, not heedless of a last resource, looked about him: he drew an inner wall in the shape, as it were, of the letter C. On the following day, therefore, part of the wall having been torn down, the crash of the falling structure and the shout of the Roman army resounded together, as though the destruction had been accomplished by the collapse of the wall. But when the sound of the city's supposed fall had raised its shout of triumph, the turn of events reversed: the sight of the new wall checked the Romans' unforeseen joy, and the boldness of the Jews increased, because the danger was postponed.

Then Caesar began to exhort his army, that they should think the new wall should be attacked without any delay, since its recent construction proved it weak and easily broken through: let them only dare to advance with spirit, since the fragments of the wall would give an easy means of ascent, so that the Romans fighting would be matched on equal footing with the Jews contending from the higher ground. And because he saw them hesitating at the difficulty of the matter, gathering around him all the strongest men, he roused them to battle with such a speech:

It is unknown to no one, bravest fellow-soldiers, that the completion of all things involves more toil than their beginnings, since the accomplishment of a task undertaken demands greater labor: for indeed a ship runs freely over the whole sea, and even if the breath of the winds does not always blow from the stern, still the pilot slants the folds of the sails, and the strait is cleft without resistance. But when it comes to the harbor, a favorable tempering of the breezes is necessary, and the entrance of ships is constrained within a narrow limit. So too the anxiety over danger is greater where hope is near; for those building, the beginnings of the foundations are level, but the works of lofty pinnacles are steep. And very often, at the very end of the work’s completion, the poor craftsman is cheated of the wage owed him, either overwhelmed by the collapse of the summit, or deceived by an unstable foothold, so that he falls to the depths below.

What shall I say of the farmer, for whom the labor of harvest is more toilsome than that of sowing, of vintage than of pruning: and for whom, when the fruits are ripe, the more serious dangers are always to be feared? Nothing then is new, if even now, at the very harbor of completing our course, danger still awaits us: because we must climb through narrower ways to Antonia; whence, having cast down the adversaries from there, occupying the higher place, and stationed above the enemy's very summit, we may, so to speak, cut off their very breath. But this seems difficult to us, fellow soldiers, as though we had come together for sport, not for war, in which men must either conquer or die. You ought to have made your excuses then, when you came to battle, so as to avenge the disaster of the Roman army, and wash away the disgrace of the stained soldiery.

If in Nero’s time you judged that the injury to the Roman name must be avenged, what ought you to wish under Emperor Vespasian? Let us wash away the stain of the earlier reign, lest it cling to ours—which stain Nero indeed was thought to be about to remove through Vespasian, but Vespasian would transfer onto himself through Titus, unless we conquer: our father has left to us only the completion of the supplements of victory to carry out; so that, having spent so much labor in vain, shall we return our steps dishonored and unavenged, abandoning the victory? As though it were not a lighter crime to depart from military service than to desert victory—for the one is of cowardice, the other of treachery.

But you think it dangerous to go down against the enemy, and to make the wall resound with arms: as though nature herself did not demand of us not womanly but manly deeds, she who breathed into us the vital spirit for this very reason, that we might willingly pour it out again for glory. To what, then, if not to the greatest deeds, must a warrior be exhorted by his leader? For exhortation to an accustomed task brings shame not only to those already assembled, but even to those assembling, that you should have to demand what is owed of its own accord: for it behooves the soldier to offer this of himself. And yet what excessive thing do I demand of you? Is it not better to die through valor than to live in disgrace? Does not the Jew frequently rush into the midst of the Roman battle lines, and fling himself fearlessly into the hostile ranks, not in hope of victory, but as proof of courage, and display of glory?

Do you, whom neither on land nor sea has anyone yet resisted with impunity, for whom it is not novel to conquer, and for whom not to have conquered is a crime, since you have so many pledges of victory, not be ashamed that you have not once even rushed forward a step against the enemy? But, armed, to keep idle, and, drawn up in battle array, to wait with festive spirits for hunger to fight on our behalf, and turn the triumphs, achieved rather by their own starvation than by our swords, into a blush-worthy reproach against us? Are you not ashamed, I say, vigorous fellow soldiers, conquerors of all nations, to hope for nothing from arms, nothing from your own strength, but everything from mere siege, and to wait until the enemy wastes away from disease, and dies in his own bed? And what kind of victory can there be without war?

Everything is filled with corpses, misshapen remains lie about, bloodless relics of the dead, except those whom they themselves have slaughtered among themselves with their own hands. Why do we fear those whom hunger, fire, brigandage, sedition have already destroyed? Why do we forsake divine benefits? For by whose will, if not God’s, have their own weapons been dashed against each other? They are also destitute of supplies of food, nor is there any end to their domestic fury. I fear lest we now seem rebels even against religion, we who so long preserve those faithless both to our religion and to their own. But granted, let the war be fierce and dreadful. Why indeed should I soothe you with the ease of the war? Let victory be uncertain, the danger certain. Is it not to those that my speech is addressed who know by human prudence that in dangers the courage of all living things is more ready than in slacker contests?

Wild beasts themselves, when they see themselves surrounded by weapons, rush upon their attackers with greater force, so as to force a path by violence. And the serpent, driven from its hiding places, pours out its venom more fiercely. There are also creatures which, though harmless by nature, are yet stronger to harm when in danger. Stags have their own weapons, if anyone opposes them, and they repel death with their horns. Even wounded bees have their stings. But what shall I say of warrior men among the Romans? When that Leonidas, born at Lacedaemon, about to do battle against the countless army of the Persians, said: "Let us dine on earth, since we shall sup among the dead." So much did this speech avail among the Greeks, that not only did none of those three hundred Lacedaemonian men whom he commanded withdraw himself, except one alone, whom afterward no one received as a survivor, but also of the rest who had gone forth together to fight, except those whom Leonidas rejected as too degenerate for such a war.

What shall I say of the whole legions of the Romans? Whom Cato, the champion of Roman eloquence, and the sincere interpreter of truth, affirmed had gone forth to war with exultation: but in such a way that they believed they would not return, and all willingly fell, lest they should change their resolve. Blessed are those none of whose men announced to their enemies victory by flight. Yet of the three hundred Lacedaemonians one man escaped: they fought in narrow places, lest they be surrounded. Of the Roman legions none chose life, but all the inheritance of death, of which you are the descendants: if, through contempt of dangers, as though it were a glorious nature, you do not refuse the lineage of valor. For who among brave men would not know himself mortal, and that an end of living is set for all?

How much better then to expend for the fatherland what you owe to nature, and to exchange necessity for glory: neither to cast away a life liable to the sighs of gasping old age, nor to dread the mishaps of burning sickness, since, once age is laid down, daily disgusts remain? But of those who waste away in languor, with strength and senses alike failing, as many think, their souls together with the body are given over to the tomb.

But of warriors and most vigorous men, who have devoted their souls to death for their country, for their children, for their religion, souls released by the sword from the bonds of this body—there is no doubt but that pure ethereal element, gleaming with the light of the stars, receives them in heavenly dwellings, in a kind of hospitality of supernal rest: and even to remain on earth is some mark either of favor or of injury, so that oblivion may hide those wasted by languor, while glory follows those who bear their breast against the enemy, if death should meet them there. To these rewards, fellow soldiers, I invite you, that we may proceed against the enemy whom we hold shut up; let us climb the wall by the ruin of the stronger wall, which affords us as it were a kind of mound, and is leveled with the lower wall.

Whoever, bearing the standard of valor, shall be first to climb the wall, or second, or third, or a companion of many others, shall by no means depart without being given a rich reward from me; even though there is no greater reward than the glory of valor, which is generally also safer. For as soon as someone most confident in spirit and strength has climbed up, those who were resisting will flee, or betake themselves to the lower ground, or hide in hiding places: so that what now seems the greatest danger, if we seek it in the lower places, will follow without great labor, so that with the enemy cast down the war may be brought to completion.

Titus had scarcely finished his speech, when Sabinus, one of the men of Syria, an outstanding warrior, presented himself and, standing before Caesar, said: that he obeyed the commands, ready for the ascent, if success should attend him, so that it might please Caesar; if he should be thwarted by ill fortune, nothing beyond his own expectation would befall him, since by his own judgment he had chosen to die for Caesar. Having said this, extending his left hand, he raised his shield above his head, and brandishing his sword with his right, it is amazing how greatly he rose up in arms: so that no one would have recognized him whom, a little before, because of the slight appearance of his body, they had thought contemptible, when they suddenly saw him press forward against the foe, and extend himself threatening both the enemies and the walls alike, as if already fighting from on high against those below, and shaking the wall with his hand. Eleven men followed him, eager to imitate him, but unequal to keeping pace with him.

The Jews fought back from the wall with javelins, stones, arrows: and whatever weapon each man's hand had found was hurled down upon Sabinus. But he, undaunted, with a swift rush leapt onto the mound of rubble, and, positioned at the top, drove back the enemy, while each one nearby feared the danger. But while he balanced himself, raising himself onto the wall, and, secure of victory, pressed toward the enemy, he slipped and fell on his face, crashing down with a great noise. The Jews, recalled by this, began to press him as he lay there with missiles. He, resting on his knee, and protecting himself with his shield as long as he could, defended himself from wounds, nor did he leave unharmed whomever he found nearest to him.

At last, however, pierced with wounds, he gave up his spirit before he gave up the fight, and was neither driven back a step, nor shaken from the wall, except in death: three others also were killed, eight half-dead, though they were nevertheless withdrawn from destruction by the rest.

Nor was the death of Sabinus only not a terror to the rest, but rather an incitement. For the Roman men who had performed the duties of the watches, desiring to compensate by the effect of their deed for having been forestalled by Sabinus’s zeal, twenty in number, entered upon a great and memorable plan: that, having summoned the standard-bearer of the fifth cohort, and two men of the cavalry whom they judged more spirited, and one trumpeter, at the fifth hour of the night, in silence, they should raise themselves up through the mounds of wall-rubble to the higher parts, and, having slain the guards, occupy the wall of Antonia. When this was accomplished, a sound of the trumpet, more terrible than usual, blared out, so that the Jews, worn out by labor and loosened by sleep, were thrown into sudden confusion, believing everything to be filled with enemies. And so they began to flee before the truth of the matter became clear.

For neither the lot of danger nor the darkness of the murky night allowed them to know how many there really were. And Caesar, hearing the blast of the trumpet, ordered the army to arm; he himself, with chosen men, was the first to climb the wall, a help to his own, a hindrance to the enemy. Day dawned, and now Caesar, visible from the wall, was exhorting his men: some were lifted onto the wall by the hands of their comrades, others made their way into the city through the tunnel which John had dug to undermine the Roman siege-works. Their own resources, turned to their ruin, the perfidious ones, shut out on every side, betook themselves to the temple. There too the Romans, wishing to rush in, are held back by the narrow passages and driven back by arms.

A grievous battle takes place at the entrance, and now fought not with javelins or arrows, but hand to hand with swords, hand meeting wound, sword upon sword, blow upon blow; the striker was drenched with the blood of the slain, so that he himself seemed rather to have been struck. In the temple itself warlike fury held sway. The pavements swam with blood: the groans of the dying, the shouts of the conquering, resounded without order or measure: hope of finishing the contest had kindled the Romans, the supreme destruction of their fatherland had taken from the Jews the fear of death. These fed their courage with the outlay of glory, those, in despair of safety, poured out the whole store of their valor, keeping nothing in reserve.

A most splendid deed was also undertaken by Julian the centurion, a man of the greatest prowess in arms, who had set out from the province of Bithynia, but was trained in Roman discipline and seasoned in wars, and distinguished by the honors of a decorated military career. When he stood near Caesar and saw the Romans facing adversity—since the Jews were superior in number, and the Romans were still fewer in that place—he suddenly darted forth from the Antonia, and turned back those who were pursuing; nor did they dare to resist, so overwhelming was the very appearance of this outstanding man, and a certain proud authority of valor beyond human form, so that Caesar himself marveled. O varied and uncertain thing, like a kind of dice-throw of wars! Which, as though by a cast, plays out its games more by chance than by valor, often with unexpected outcomes, and is fruitful of new results.

For here too there were casts—not indeed of dice, but of arrows and of many weapons, and also of stones, by which the victor is often laid low by another's wound. And while he snatches the spoils of others, he himself is despoiled: as happened to this Julian, who was pressing upon the backs of the enemy, and while he was slaying some and holding them penned in, being made careless by his very eagerness—wearing footwear studded with nails, as is the custom of military men—he did not take heed of the polished stone pavement, which ought to have been guarded against; but as though he were fighting securely on open ground, he slipped, and by his own fall made a great crash. Nor could he rise again, stretched out on the slippery ground, though supporting himself on his knee he kept beating back the enemy as they returned, so as to strike down those who drew near, and to ward off, as much as he could, those who hurled missiles at him.

But worn out and overwhelmed by the very multitude, though alone—for no one dared to expose himself to such danger—he fell, not contemptible, nor unavenged, fighting to the last. Indeed I do not think, as I judge, that so great a man's valor deserved such an end, to be thus deceived. But prudence avails very much in war, which, ever cautious and clear-sighted, foresees the chances of uncertain events. Alone he darted forth from the Antonia, alone he rushed into the hostile ranks, alone he mingled with armed men, alone he drove the Jews back into the temple. I fear that this very thing worked against him, because those who were faithless to God had to be driven out from the temple, and so his fall found no remedy. Titus watched him conquering with joy, and in danger with immense grief; he wished to come to his aid, but was far away.

He was called back by his own men, because in the case of a common soldier the fate is that of one man, but in the case of the commander the danger is that of all: the example taught what Caesar ought rather to avoid than to follow. In the end, his comrades were so dismayed, and the adversaries so exultant, that even Julian's body fell into the power of the enemy—as if they still feared him even dead, should he be restored to the Romans. When Julian had fallen, the rest yielded with little trouble.

For not yet had the greater numbers ascended, and the occasion of his death had increased the Jews' boldness: the most eager in that battle to repel the Romans were the conspirators Alexas and John of Gischala, who were the champions of his faction; and on Simon's side, Melchio and Jacob, leader of the Idumeans, distinguished warriors; and Arsimo and Judas of the third faction likewise striving together, who with joined hand drove the Romans back and shut them within the Antonia.

Titus, on the other hand, judging the narrow confines of the Antonia to be not a fortification for himself but a hindrance, ordered its fortification to be utterly demolished, so that a way might be opened for those about to engage against the enemy. And having learned that the solemnity of the Jews' festal days was approaching, he directed Josephus to interpret in the Hebrew tongue what he himself would say. What counsel, alas, was persuading John to provoke the Romans!

If he possessed confidence in his valor, let him choose another place for the fight: let him advance there, provided he spared the city; let him not defile the temple, not hinder the sacrifices of the festal days; let him leave those whom he judged fit for the ministries of the sacrifices; let him give proof of his courage wherever he wished, outside the city and the temple: the soldiers of Caesar would not fail to meet him in battle; he himself was being forced unwillingly into the overthrow of the whole city, whose remnants he wished to preserve, if John would permit it; the flames were threatening the temple, not because the Romans were eager to burn the temple, but to drive out from the temple the instigators of war. If they believed themselves conquered, let them surrender; but if they hoped to be victors, let them not withdraw within the enclosure, but defend themselves in the open fields, so that the temple might be rescued from the fires already creeping upon it, and be free for purifications.

And as Josephus interpreted this to the Jews, it was heard in silence, and the silent crowd approved, but feared to disclose its own judgment; to whom John replied that no sacrifice was more acceptable to God than for men consecrated to God to lay down their life for the altars, for the hearths, for the temple; and that therefore, if it were necessary, they would gladly fall for liberty, yet he hoped that the city of God could not suffer destruction. To this Titus replied: "Is it then fittingly that you keep the city pure for God, and the sanctuary unstained, by slaying citizens, by killing the innocent, by destroying priests? By such crimes the divine is not appeased, but offended. You have banished your God from the worship of sacrifices. If someone were to deny you food, John, you would seek him out: to your God his victims are not offered, his own gifts are not rendered, men are being slaughtered, and do you still think God is helping?

Indeed the very deeds themselves teach this, the heap of the slain bears witness, and do the mounds not make it plain? Nor would I find fault that you fight for your homeland, if I were unwilling to spare it, if I were unwilling to preserve your homeland or the temple. For not even Carthage was worthy, nor was the Hebrew to be feared by Hannibal, who had subdued half the Roman world; and yet even Carthage itself was restored, which bore the rebellious spirits of its citizens even to its own destruction. On my faith, I promise you that all these things will remain safe for you; I promise you pardon of safety, not as the wages of crime, but as the ransom of the city, that I may redeem for you the standing of your doomed heights. Cease, I warn you, to disturb by your banditry the purpose of Roman piety. Jerusalem shall not be feared so as to be destroyed, seeing that Antioch, mightier in strength, has been preserved.

Surely your own Jechoniah trusted even the Persian, and, going out of the city, committed himself with his kinsmen to barbarian fury, lest the city be overthrown on his account. His memory is celebrated among you, as your own men assert—that is, Josephus, its champion, and witness of the celebration by which you honor the man who offered himself to captivity for his country. Even the barbarian Persian preserved him, and I promise you impunity. Surely Josephus too bore arms against the Romans: believe the promise, whose example we have set before you. We give you Josephus as surety of our pledge—nay, we have already given him, whom we have preserved.

Let him speak to you in his native tongue, let him bind himself by the rite you are accustomed to use: I am not ashamed to seek a surety, to give a guarantor, lest I be shown as a destroyer, I who wish to spare." At this Josephus wept, and besought John, and lamented the state of the fatherland, and pleaded with tearful speech, and appealed to him as a fellow citizen, though more stubborn than the rest: he called to witness the grace of almighty God, that he would be safe with his own, only let him cease to incite the Roman soldier to the overthrow of the city. And when he could not bend him: "It is no wonder, John," he said, "if you persist even to the destruction of your fatherland, since the divine protections have already abandoned it.

But it is a wonder that you do not believe it will perish, when you have read the prophetic books, in which the destructions of our fatherland were announced to us, and its heights restored, only to be destroyed again by the Roman army. For what else does Daniel proclaim? For he was prophesying not what had already happened, but what was to come afterward: what is that 'abomination of desolation,' which he cried would come with the Romans' arrival, if not this which now hangs over us? What is that oracle, which we have often recalled, announced by the Most High God: namely, that the city would then perish utterly, when it was destroyed by the hands of its own fellow citizens—is this not what we now see fulfilled? And perhaps, because it is no longer pleasing that the temple be defended, being defiled with forbidden blood, it is pleasing that it be purged by fire."

Josephus finished his speech, but John was moved by no tears, nor bent by any promises. God had long been pressing upon their faithless minds, ever since they stained themselves with impious parricide, crucifying Christ jesus. This is he whose death is the destruction of the Jews: born of Mary, who came unto his own, and his own received him not. For when did the Jews not kill their own? Did they not kill the son of Saul, their own? Naboth the prophet was certainly stoned by his own people: it was a Jewess, Jezebel, who commanded it against the Jews, and the elders carried out the order. Ahab was a Jew, who was the cause of his death. How many others were slain by fellow citizens at the hands of fellow citizens, and yet the city remained whole for a long time, though destroyed by the Babylonians after countless years, but afterward restored!

This is the final destruction, after which the temple is beyond repair, because by their crimes they turned away the presiding head of the temple, the arbiter of its restoration.

By such an address of Caesar, and by his oft-repeated speech, the resolve of some was bent, so that they were able to withdraw and come over to the Romans. Fear of danger, which was threatened by the brigands, called the rest back (and perhaps there was some inclination of mind among them, lest more should be snatched away from the coming overthrow): these, fleeing to him—since among them were men of priestly rank with their sons, and other men of more distinguished family—Caesar received with good favor, promising the security of their safety, and the right of their possessions; and he directed them to the city called Gophna, lest any offense should arise from a different rite and a diverse form of worship. This—whether because such a suspicion had arisen among those stationed in the city who resisted, or whether someone had contrived it by deceit, so that fewer might slip away—was turned into a pretext for slaughter, so that the slain were held up as an example.

Having learned this, Titus ordered those recalled, together with Josephus, to go around near the walls, so that they might be recognized by their own people. They, with tears and great groaning, bewailed not their own fate, but the destruction of the fatherland and the temple; they begged the citizens to follow Caesar's pledge, to rescue the temple from the fire prepared for it, saying that nothing was demanded of them contrary to the law, nothing diminished of their liberty. Let them yield, and themselves experience the clemency of the Romans, whose unconquerable valor they had already experienced.

While they were lamenting these things so pitifully, they were driven off by their own people, and the war was kindled afresh: the Jews leapt forward, and in their very recklessness burst into the inner sanctuaries. They occupied all the recesses, all the secret places, which were inaccessible to men who had no part in the sacred rites. The Romans too prepared themselves for battle: the ordinances of the fathers were violated by the necessity of war, yet with greater reverence on the part of the Romans than of their own people. For the Gentiles looked upon the temple with dread, while the Jews approached it with fury and recklessness; and with hands wet with human blood they laid hold of the very altars. Titus, however, still holding to his purpose, addressed John, and protested that he was being drawn unwillingly to the destruction of the city and the temple, saying to him: "What do those inscriptions of letters set up before the doors of the temple mean, John?

Do they not signify that none but the consecrated ought to approach the temple? What of those barriers before the temple? Are they not meant to keep off the gaze of all the uninitiated, so that the knowledge of the secrets may be open only to the initiated, and that free sight may belong to those for whom lawful entrance exists? You exclude foreigners from the view, and yet you force their entry. You inscribe that no stranger, no foreigner, may enter; and you pour out foreign blood within the temple, and you stain your altars alike with the blood of strangers and of citizens. I call to witness that it is not our assault, but your own transgression, that you violate what is your own. I, an outsider, demand nothing—nay, I entreat you: if you are willing to depart, the temple shall remain unharmed; no Roman will lay hostile hands upon it; nothing of your sacrifices will be profaned.

I will preserve the temple for you and for the proselytes; for though the worship of sacred rites differs, the use of the structure is common: what belongs to worship has departed from you; what belongs to the fabric has remained for the victors."

When Caesar perceived that not even by these things, insinuated through Josephus, could they be called back (for the leaders of the faction thought so frequent a proposal of surrender to be a sign of faint-heartedness rather than of piety), he returned to battle, unwilling but compelled by necessity, and orders the Romans to be present. But since so great a multitude was hindered by the narrowness of the place, he assigns to thirty chosen men a thousand warriors each. For so dense an obstruction of buildings could not receive the whole army. He himself also wishing to go down along with them was called back by his own men, lest in a narrow place, and also often at nighttime hours, when it was necessary to meet the treachery of those lying in ambush, he should incite some danger to himself: since it would profit more if he were present as spectator of the battle, so that each man might more readily judge what should be resolved for himself, fighting under the eyes of Caesar.

For all things done around the temple were viewed as though in a certain theater, from above, from the place of Antonia. Caesar, inclined to this view, entrusts the business to Cerealis, that he should come upon the Jews as they were making a stand around the temple, at the ninth hour of the night, and he exhorts the rest to press eagerly into the contest; he himself also would not be lacking to the merits of those fighting, since from above he would examine the battle either as witness of anyone's cowardice, or as judge of valor. Cerealis, at the appointed time, comes diligently, but finds watchful guards: battle is joined. For indeed those stationed within the temple were not sleeping, and as those keeping watch engaged, the rest readily prepared themselves for battle.

In close formation the Roman pressed on: the Jews, while striving amid barriers and narrow places not to be surrounded, ran about in various directions: so that danger more often came to them from their own side, since in the darkness they were not recognized, and often they were run through by their allies, being taken for enemies. For who by night could distinguish whether he met a friend or a foe? Since it was too late to ask, useful to be cautious, wise to act first: and the more tolerable outcome of fault was to err against another's wound, than to choose one's own danger, where the enemy is feared. Thus the Jews labored under twofold peril through the night, either from what the enemy might inflict, or from what an ally might mistake. Nor was the Roman less vehement by day, whom Titus, so often a silent spectator of the contest, urged on. The fight was fierce until the fifth hour: the Jews too rebelling vigorously, so that neither side yielded ground.

While these battles were being waged among themselves, in the space of seven days, everything having been leveled down to the foundations of the earth which Herod had fortified around the fort called Antonia, the road leading to the temple was made wider: so that there was not only opportunity for the soldiers to run about, but also room, as much as was necessary, for setting up fortifications and heaping up siege-works, by which even the topmost heights of the temple pinnacles might be assailed. While the Romans were more intently occupied about these things, when the Jews were more intolerably pressed by hunger, they began to lie in wait for the Romans' pack animals: if any soldier had let his horse loose to pasture, or a mule needed for bearing burdens, they would carry it off by theft, and food was sought by them not only at the Romans' expense, but also by crime.

This disgrace of carelessness Caesar removed at once at the outset by prescribing the punishment of death; yet he did not restrain the fraud, nor their persistence. For, shut out from this sort of plunder, necessarily seeking the aid of herbs for their hunger, they thought of tearing down the wall which Titus had built around the orchard, so that there might be freer excursion for wandering and seeking out roots of trees and fodder, which the circuit of the wall had shut in like a kind of prison, and there was no longer any means by which to relieve their hunger. So they creep out and with a sudden sally rush upon those keeping watch at the Mount of Olives: nor were these lacking to the duty entrusted to them, and by the trumpet's call summoned others from the rest of the fortifications of the camp or towers to share in the battle.

A fiercer fight is joined at the beginning: while shame drives these, hunger drives those, with fierce and compelling mastery; but as the Romans gathered together, the Jews are repelled, and turned back to the walls of their city. Then one of the troop of horsemen, named Pedanius, with his horse at full speed, stretched out his right hand, and leaning a little, seized one of the fleeing Jews and lifted him up, bringing him captive to Caesar, and as a glorious victor in plunder, like an eagle a hare, or a hawk a coot, he cast him down alive before the feet of Caesar. Titus, greatly delighted at this, dismissed him with praise and honor.

Now the porticoes surrounding the temple were burning; everywhere mourning, everywhere death: outside war, inside more than war and fire. Nor were the Jews broken in spirit: they thought it was for vengeance that whatever they did without deceit or excess perished. When they could no longer do otherwise, they provoked the Romans to hasten their own destruction. A certain Jonathan, small in body, more deserving of scorn, challenged the Romans near John's tomb, that whoever wished might contend with him hand to hand. Some despised the smallness of the man, others disdained to fight one whom they would soon hold captive anyway, others considered it dangerous to contend with men who, in the extremity of their fortunes, sought vengeance not from any courage but from mere rashness alone: and there would be no glory in it, if one so near to ruin should be conquered; and much disgrace, if by some mishap someone should disturb the common victory.

He, most insolent, boasted of himself, and hurled fear at the victors: bringing reproaches, that the Romans relied not on their own strength but on foreign aid; and that the Jews were afflicted not by the war of enemies, but by their own internal seditions. There was among the number of Roman soldiers one named Pudens, who, stung by these empty insults, while imprudently consulting his honor, neglected his safety, and, made more incautious by his very indignation, lay open to a wound, and, cast down upon the ground, struck shame into his comrades: he also left to Jonathan the occasion at once of mockery and of death. For he, rejoicing in the success of the contest, and putting on the pomp of triumph, while he dances and exults, and, clashing shield together with sword, makes a show of himself, he stirred up against his own wounds the centurion Priscus, who did not endure one boasting so proudly and vainly, and, while unwary in his victory, pierced him with an arrow's shot.

By this Jonathan was struck down, and taught that in battle no one ought to exult without reason: since the condition of victor and vanquished is uncertain, until the war is closed.

But in the inner city, when they saw the enemy within the walls, standing high upon towering siege-works, and threatening all the walls, as though it were a wound in the body, they dreaded the danger advancing inward, and cut through the northern portico at the point where it adjoined Antonia, lest through it the enemy should ascend to the upper parts of the temple, or, being higher, press upon those stationed below: and they cut away whatever was nearest, lest the fires ravaging the buildings near the temple should also devour the temple itself, and what they had cut through they burned with fire: thus what they feared from the enemy, they themselves began first. They also prepared Solomon's portico as a snare, so that they filled the interior of the roofs with pitch and bitumen, hidden beneath the arch of the topmost peak, and, pretending that they wished to defend it, and that the enemy pressed on in numbers, they provoked the Romans and stirred them against themselves.

The Romans, having brought up ladders, made for the top of the portico: the Jews gradually gave ground, since more Romans had climbed up. These vied with one another in creeping in, yet the more prudent, suspecting a trick, were cautious: but the common soldiery, intent on victory, hastened, where the matter seemed free of deceit, and when very many were placed as though caught in nets, fire was applied to the inner arches, and, with pitch and bitumen and the other fuel for fire added, it spread through the whole portico. Flames surrounded the victorious Romans on every side, so that neither was there means of resisting, nor opportunity of fleeing: they found nothing to do. Titus watched his own men in peril, indignant indeed that they had climbed up without orders, but pitying that victors should perish. Many hurled themselves down headlong: but when they had escaped the fire, with legs broken, their bodies crushed, they died: it was more pitiable if the maimed survived.

Caesar wished to help, and could not: yet he exhorted those nearest, he cried out that they should give aid to their fellows. These voices, this grief of Caesar's, they held as their supreme consolation. This was the provision for the dying, this the sublime tomb by which they consoled themselves as they hastened to death, that they should be laid up in the heart of Caesar: nor would their life perish, whose glory would live, who died for Caesar, leaving triumph as their heirs' inheritance. And so some were surrounded by the flames, others were overtaken first; nor was the enemy far off, to strike down one fleeing the flames.

Longinus, however, a man of outstanding valor, when he was challenged by the Jews to entrust himself to them under a promised guarantee of safety, chose rather to run himself through alone with his sword, than to stain with disgrace the courage of the Roman character. Artorius, however, cunningly enough, cried out with a loud voice to Lucius, saying: You shall be my heir, if you catch me as I fall. And he, poor man, ran to meet him as he plunged, and took upon himself the death of one about to die. Truly a martial testament, not written in ink, but in blood; nor on paper, but on a sword's point. That he promised him as heir was indeed a great stroke of genius, that he found a willing substitute for death.

And so the portico was burned as far as the tower which John, when he was waging war against Simon, had built over the gates of the royal house, which King Hezekiah had founded for himself to dwell in; the remaining part of it the Jews themselves destroyed. On the following day also the whole northern portico was burned by the Romans, as far as the eastern portico. For when they laid hands even on their own, they did not spare others. The temple's appearance was now bare, and the famine of men savage: they lay in wait for one another, each for whom he might snatch food. Wherever there was suspicion of food, there was war among kinsmen. There was fighting over food, the dearest were slain, the dead were searched, lest any food should lie hidden within their garments. Some pretended to be dead, that the living might not be suspected of having any food: but not even the living could either fulfill the office of life, or feign death.

But with open mouth, like rabid dogs, catching at the breath of the air, they were carried here and there, hunger their guide. Often too, like drunkards, they returned again to the same dwellings, to search once more what they had left empty. And when they found no other relief for hunger, they stripped the leather from shields, that what had been no protection might become food for them. They chewed footwear: nor was there shame in taking up with the mouth what had been loosed from the feet, and licking it with the tongue. Even old straw, long since thrown away, was sought after with no small effort: and if anyone found any, he purchased it at a great price.

Why should I attempt to tell the deed of Mary, at which the mind of any barbarian or impious man would shudder? She was one of the wealthier women of the region of Perea, which lies beyond the Jordan. When the horror of war arose, she had betaken herself with the rest into the city of Jerusalem, as being safer; there too she had carried her wealth, which the leaders of the factions vied to seize. Even if she had procured any food at a price, it was snatched from her hands. She was harassed by the treacherous, hurled dire curses, wished to die, but found no one to kill her. They preferred to insult her longer, to afflict her more grievously, than to destroy her quickly. They thought that as long as she lived, she would be plunder. Now everything had failed, and she, accustomed to delicacies, could not soften the harsher hardness of chaff or hides. Fierce hunger poured itself into her inmost marrow, exasperated her humors, and agitated her mind.

The woman had a little infant whom she had borne. Roused by his crying, when she saw herself and the little one wasting away, overcome by such monstrous evils and unequal to so atrocious a calamity, she lost her natural feeling; and with the use of maternal affection blotted out, she swallowed up grief and took up frenzy. Turning then to the little one, now forgetful that she was a mother, and raging in mind, she spoke thus: "What shall I do for you, little one, what shall I do for you? Savage things surround you on every side—war, famine, fires, robbers, ruins; to whom shall I entrust you as I am about to die, or to whom shall I leave you, so small as you are? I had hoped that if you grew up, you would feed your mother, or bury her when dead. Surely, if you had gone before me in death, I would have enclosed you with my own hands in a costly tomb. What shall I do, wretched that I am?

I see no means of living for you or for me. Everything has been snatched from us—for whom shall I keep you? Or indeed in what tomb shall I bury you, lest you become prey to dogs or birds or wild beasts? Everything, I say, has been snatched from us. Yet you can, my sweet one, still feed your mother in this way: your limbs are fit for food. O sweet flesh of mine, joyful limbs, before hunger utterly consumes you, give back to your mother what you received: return, my son, into that natural secret place, into that dwelling from which you took your breath: there let a tomb be prepared for you when dead. I myself will embrace him whom I bore, I myself will kiss him: and let the force of necessity possess what the impatience of love holds, that I myself may devour my own limbs, not with feigned but with real bites. Be, then, food for me, madness for the robbers, and a tale for life, which alone is lacking to our calamities.

What would you do, my son, if you too had a son? We have done what was fitting for piety; let us now do what hunger urges. Yet your case is the better one, and has a certain semblance of piety; for it is more tolerable that you give food to your mother from your own flesh, than that a mother either kill or devour you." Saying this, with face turned away she plunged in the sword, and cutting her son into pieces, put him on the fire, ate part, and hid part, lest anyone should come upon her; but the smell of the roasting reached the leaders of the sedition; and following the scent at once, they entered the woman's lodging, threatening death, because she had dared to eat while they themselves fasted and to deprive them of a share in the food she had found.

But she said: "I have kept your share for you: I was not greedy nor unkind; do not be indignant, you have what you too may eat, I have prepared food for you from my own flesh. Sit down quickly: I will set the table; you will marvel, and you may proclaim my service, for you will find no such affection in any woman, who did not defraud you even of the sweetness of her dear son." Saying this, she at once uncovered again the burnt limbs, and offered them to be eaten, with words of encouragement like these: "This is my meal, this is your portion: look closely, lest I have defrauded you. Behold, one hand of the boy, behold, one of his feet, behold, half of the remainder of the body: and do not think it a stranger's—he is my son; do not suppose it another's work: I did it, I carefully divided what I should eat for myself, and what I should keep for you.

Never were you sweeter to me, my son: to you I owe it that I still live. Your sweetness has held my soul, and has prolonged for a wretched mother the day of death. You have come to my aid in famine: you, the last gift of my old age, the restrainer of my killers. They came to slay, and have become guests: they themselves will owe you a debt, once they have partaken of my banquet. But why do you draw back your steps, why do you shudder in mind, why do you not feast on what I, a mother, have made? These things which have satisfied a mother can delight you too. I am no longer hungry, now that my son has fed me: I am abundantly filled, I know no hunger. Taste and see how sweet my son is. Do not become softer than a mother, weaker than a woman.

But if in the face of my wound you are merciful, and do not accept my offering, and turn away from my holocaust; I will complete my sacrifice, I will eat what remains. See that it not be a reproach to you, that a woman stronger than you should be found, one who consumed the banquet of men. I indeed have prepared such a banquet, but you have made a mother feast in this way: passion held me, but necessity conquered."

At once the abomination of so great a crime filled the whole city, and each one, as though it were set before his eyes, shuddered at the ministry of that parricidal banquet. After this even the instigators of the sedition began to examine what foods they seized, lest they should find similar meats, and eat them unknowingly. All began to fear lest they should live long, and wished to die. The monstrousness of this deed reached even the Romans. For very many, terrified by this horror, fled to the enemy. When Caesar learned of this, cursing the contagion of that unhappy land, raising his hands to heaven, he declared as follows: "We have indeed come to war, but we do not fight against men; against every madness of beasts and wild creatures—why do I speak of sentient beings?—we contend against the monstrousness of rocks themselves. Wild beasts love their offspring, whom they nourish even in famine; and creatures which feed on the bodies of others abstain from the carcasses of their own kind.

This surpasses all bitterness, that a mother should devour the limbs which she herself bore. I am clean of this contagion: I absolve myself before you, whatever power you are in heaven. You know, you know indeed, that with inmost feeling I have often offered peace, and—what I am not ashamed to say—as victor I have begged for it: because I wished to spare even the very authors of such great crimes and monstrous deeds, wished to spare the people, to preserve the city: but what was I to do against men who resisted, what was I to do against those raging against their own kin? Having often laid down arms—because they did not cease from the slaughter of their own people—I returned to war, in order to free the besieged, not to destroy them: they themselves have often urged us from the walls to fight, lest they perish more grievously at the hands of their own. What sort of citizens are these, for whom the enemy is a remedy?

I had indeed heard that the ferocity of this people was intolerable, that they rouse themselves to every kind of insolence by incredible beliefs. That their race is derived from heaven, that there they first put on bodily form, that they were dwellers of heaven, that they descended to cultivate the earth, that from earth they return to heaven, that they crossed the seas with dry feet, that the waves of the sea fled before them, that the streams of the Jordan turned back and ran to their own source; that the sun stood still, so that these might conquer their enemies, lest night should hinder them: that some of their own were caught up to heaven in fiery chariots, that the powers of heaven fought for them, and, while they themselves were absent, that all the forces of the enemy were routed, that victory was won while they slept.

I had learned these things, but I thought that they merely boasted of divine favors toward themselves, not that they extended their audacity so far as to think that they could not even be conquered by the Romans. I recognize, then, that we are at war with men who believe themselves unconquerable, since they boast themselves survivors of the flood, heirs of rivers, guests of lands, travelers of the sea, climbers of the ether; for whom the wave is a wall, the air a road, heaven a dwelling, to whom flames yield, and whom chains do not hold. For the thirsty, the rock is split open, and pours itself into drink. For the hungry, heaven opens, food is sent down, camps are filled with the flesh of birds, and man eats the bread of angels. Flowing waters are bound fast, bitter things grow sweet, the sun stands still, darkness gives light. Finally, what more can there be, when audacity can be lacking to such as these? Who, as they say, though dead, live, and though buried, rise again.

A frequent opinion also holds that these men have conspired even against the divine, and their punishment is the proof. Even today the lands burn because of the impiety of their inhabitants: many even of these have been swallowed by the gaping earth. How long, then, shall we linger in these places? Where there is even ruin of the lands, we have seen also the Dead Sea, we have seen also the dead growths of the earth, the dry soil, the empty shadows of green fruits, grace without, ashes within. Who can doubt that we dwell among the dead below, among whom even the elements die? Even that affection which is wont to live on after death—among these people the piety of nature is dead, and religion does not outlive the deceased. For who does not love parents even when dead? Who does not love lost children, and keep them in place of pledges? Affection remains, even though the pledge has died, the name of nature persists, the bond of love does not perish.

But among these people, not even a living son is recognized by his mother, nor is he heard when he calls out, nor is pity shown for his crying: and for the sake of one hour's accursed meal, she has laid parricidal hands upon her own pledge. But why do I charge as something new, when they reckon the beginnings of their race from a brother's parricide? When they proclaim that the very faith of Abraham, whom they call their father and the founder of their discipline and chief of their worship, consists chiefly in this: that he thought his son should not be spared, but led him to the altar as a victim, and did not hesitate to offer him as a burnt offering. I do not condemn devotion, but I inquire after piety. They say too that another of their people, as victor, vowed that whatever first met him on his return home he would sacrifice to his God: and when he returned, his daughter met him, and he laid hands upon his daughter.

And many other examples of this kind. What sort of a people is this, which attributes to religion the killing of a man, and considers parricide to be a sacrifice? What god could demand this, or what priest could offer it? Finally, they say that that ancient man, as though more prudent, did not do it, but only willed it; whereas this woman, as though more resolute, persevered in doing it. Let such harsh men have their own rites, among whom it is a discipline to kill their own children. Unhappy city, in which there is such a workshop, such a mystery! Let its own ruins cover it, and let the envious themselves hide away the contagion, lest the sun see it, lest the orb of the stars behold it, lest the breathings of the air be polluted: let the purifying fire too burn it away. We think the banquet of Thyestes a fable: here we see the crime, we behold a truth more atrocious than any tragedy.

There, it was the stronger sex, and another's offspring; here, a woman, whose own offspring was her food. There, it was another's deceit; here, her own will. He grieved; she exulted. A worthy meal for such men, who by obstinate warfare have brought their own women to such a banquet. Indeed I think that these men, afflicted by such bitterness of evils, have already gone mad, and have become senseless, since they do not perceive these things. Wherefore let us finish the war the sooner, since they cannot be reformed; let us press on more urgently, that we may flee the dying waters of these regions, and the crumbling earth."

Having said these things, he orders the battering rams to be brought up to the temple, but no strong blows availed. Yet many, terrified, fled to Caesar from among the very leaders of the seditions, whom Titus hesitated to receive, as men driven by necessity rather than following a promise, but good faith tempered his anger. Yet he did not hold the two earlier deserters in the same regard, and began to press his men more intently, so that all the enemy might withdraw struck with fear. But when they saw that the walls remained unharmed by the blows of the rams by their own massiveness, they nourished their boldness: yet Caesar, anticipating them by a stratagem, ordered the doors, which were covered with silver, to be set on fire, so that when fire was applied, the silver would melt away, and then gradually the wood itself would burn: thus an approach would open into the inner portico.

But Caesar, taking pity, lest the temple be burned when the neighboring porticoes of the inner vestibule were caught, called the leaders of the army to counsel, saying that his struggle was not with insensible things, nor was his war with buildings, which would benefit the victors if they were preserved unburned: yet the leaders asserted that the soundness of the walls and the fortification of the temple would be an incentive for the Jews for the future as well, to whom insolence was pleasing; that the roots of rebellion must be torn out utterly, lest their rashness break out again. Yet Caesar deferred the discussion of the plan to the following day. But the Jews thought they should be poured out against them: but the Romans, with shields joined, though fewer, sustained the first onslaught. Yet the battle line wavered under the onrush of the innumerable multitude. Whence Caesar came quickly with his cavalry, easily trampling down whomever he found, and turned back the hostile column, relying on the fact that a portion of the vestibules now lay open.

With a larger force of his own men he arranged on the following day to burst in upon the enemy and burn the temple. This deed would have snatched the city from the fire, had not the perverse mind of the people provoked the flames of the enemy against itself. For Caesar orders the balls of fire to be extinguished, lest they hinder the assault. Seeing this, the Jews, while lying in wait for those wishing to extinguish the fires of the temple, killed some of them, and thereby kindled the enemy: one of the Romans, having got hold of half-burned wood which had fallen from the roof, brought the kindled fire to the gate which is called the Golden Gate, because it had doors covered with gold. The rigidity of the gold, immediately liquefied by the flames, laid bare the wood, which lay open to the fire as if its covering had been stripped away. And so, with the doors burned, the fire made its way into the inner sanctuary of the temple.

And now the vestibules of its gate were shining with light. All who defended themselves by the fortification of the temple were thrown into confusion and began at once to tremble; and a certain inclination of mind already arose that this day was fated for the destruction of the temple, because on this very day, long ago, it had been burned when the Babylonians attacked, since it was the tenth day of the month Loos Joma, which they had long since numbered among their fatal days. The fire, rising also into the upper air through the vents, filled the victors with joy, and the vanquished with grief worthy of so great a calamity. A cry also arose from everyone, and not much later a hostile messenger made the destruction manifest to Caesar: who, rushing forward, ordered with as loud a voice as he could that the fires be extinguished.

But amid the tumult there was neither the possibility of being heard, nor the will to spare, since the Roman soldiers burned with zeal for vengeance, and Caesar's known clemency removed from his men the fear of disobedience, since nothing would be held against them when even the enemy was being pardoned. Yet Titus by nod and hand kept calling back those he could, and commanded some to restrain the assaults of the soldiers. But with anger as their leader the conflagration increased, they pressed the enemy, who, in despair of safety, was now prodigal of himself and expending his whole self upon dangers. The common people especially, being unarmed, were struck down wherever they were met, since they were fortified with no weapons, fit neither to repel a wound nor to turn it aside.

Caesar, wearied then by the outcries, drew back, while the flame was still consuming the chambers of the temple. When these had been burned up, in his fury he brought himself into the sanctuary itself. At this sight many fainted away: others cast themselves into the very flames, since their eyes could not bear that they should survive as witnesses to the temple's ruin, though they themselves would be spared. Titus again ran up, wishing to look about at what sort of building it was. Moved by its grace, he confessed it to have surpassed all temples in its works. He marveled at the size of the stones, the brilliance of the metal, the beauty of the workmanship, the charm of its loveliness. Nor did he pronounce without reason that the celebrity of the place had been so great that men gathered there from every region, because it was believed to be the dwelling-place of none but the Most High God.

Honor lent credence to their religion, so that even barbarous nations venerated that temple: and plunderers brought gifts out of religious feeling—gifts which, however, their own people then plundered, and robbers dispersed, rushing upon everything that had been deposited by widows or orphans, as though it would be counted against the victors if any part of the plunder went to the Romans instead. Seeing the temple also burning, they themselves set the rest on fire, so that no building might survive the ruin of the temple: reckoning it a matter of religion, if everything perished together with the temple. Nor even yet did the Jews lay aside their treachery: which was the cause of a greater destruction.

For when the minds of many were being inclined to surrender themselves in a body to the Romans, a certain false prophet began to boast, in the ecstasy of his mind, that divine aid would not fail the temple, calling the people to himself as if by a kind of oracle, saying that while he still remained in his temple he would at once repel the enemy's columns and the burning of the flames. Thus the wretched people, while unhappily believing false deceptions, were slaughtered shamefully and unavenged like cattle. Yet if they had been willing to believe, they had clear signs of the impending destruction: by which, as if by plain voices, they were being warned that their end was at hand.

For almost a year a comet stood over the temple itself, bearing a certain likeness everywhere to fire and a sword, foretelling also that by fire and sword the devastation of the nation and kingdom and of the city itself would come. For what does the likeness of a sword signify but war? What does fire signify, if not that it foretold a conflagration? It was seen, moreover, before the people separated themselves from the Romans: and on the very days of Passover, on the eighth day of the month Xanthicus, and on each night at about the ninth hour, the temple and its altar shone with such light as if it were day, remaining thus for nearly half an hour each day: which the common people interpreted as a sign portending the increase of the nation, and were thereby driven to believe, as it were, that the time for recovering liberty was at hand. The more prudent, on the contrary, held the opinion that such a kind of star is accustomed to foretell war.

Let no one suppose that we have spoken things alien to our own worship and discipline. First, because we do not set forth what seems to us, but what happened, and what opinions there were at that time, what the prudent thought, what the imprudent. Nor, when something has been said concerning the sect of the Jews, should it seem written by us as though we were weaving it into the truth of their worship, rather than as a shadow and figure set forth in advance, so that more perfect things might follow. For concerning the signs of the stars we are also taught in the Gospel, that there shall be signs in the sun, and in the moon, and in the stars. They also affirmed that in the birth of a heifer, when it stood ready to be sacrificed at the altars, a lamb was brought forth in the midst of the temple, during the very celebrations of the sacred rites which we mentioned above.

Also that the eastern inner gate, heavy with solid bronze, which used to be closed toward evening with much labor by twenty men, though barred with iron bolts, was found for several nights spontaneously unbarred, and afterward could scarcely be closed by the guards. Many considered this also a sign of coming good, since the gate opened for those about to enter. But the more thoughtful said that the guarding of the temple seemed to have been loosed, so that whatever was within might be plundered by enemies: that worship might depart, and desolation enter in, that the celebration might be emptied out, that sacrifice might be destroyed. Which the reading also plainly shows was signified even before they crucified Christ Jesus.

After many days also, a certain figure of inestimable magnitude appeared, which very many looked upon, as the books of the Jews have made known: and before the setting of the sun there suddenly appeared in the clouds chariots and armed battle-lines, by which the cities of all Judea and its region were, as it were, being attacked. Moreover, on the very feast of Pentecost, the priests entering into the inner parts of the temple at night, to perform the customary sacrifices, reported that they first perceived a certain movement, and a sound given forth; afterward also that they heard a voice suddenly crying out: Let us depart hence.

Jesus also, son of Ananias, a rustic man, four years before the Jewish people entered upon the war, in the deepest peace and abundance of the city, when the solemn sacrifices of the Feast of Tabernacles were being celebrated, went up to the temple, and began to cry out: A voice from the east, a voice from the west, a voice from the four winds, a voice over Jerusalem and over the temple, a voice over bridegrooms and brides, a voice over all the people: this he cried out night and day. Moved by this, the leading men of the place seized him, dreading the terrible portent of his voice, and afflicted him with many punishments, so that at least, afflicted with pain, he might cease to announce things so terrible and full of portents.

But he, terrified by no fear, nor by blows or graver threats, changed neither his manner nor his voice, but remained in the same persistence of his announcement and the same weaving of his words, with no interruption of entreaty, heedless of injury, unmoved in feeling. This they judged to be by no means a trivial matter, but expressed, as it was, in an ecstasy of mind, and they brought him before the judge of the place, who at that time, on behalf of the Romans, was administering public affairs in those parts. He, for the sake of examining the truth, tore at him with the most savage punishments: ordering the man to be scourged all the more violently the more he persisted, so that if he had learned any more secret indications of a coming disturbance, he might reveal them. But he neither wept nor pleaded, but at each stroke of the lash tearfully lamented, not his own destruction, but that of his homeland, saying: Woe to Jerusalem.

Nor, when asked who he was, or whence, or why he said these things, did he give any answer: but only continued that lamentation for his homeland with a pitiable wailing. Albinus therefore (for this was the man's name), being wearied, dismissed him, as one whose ravings, whatever he said, he did not himself understand, being possessed by madness. But he held no conversation with anyone, nor was he heard to say anything else for the rest of the time, but kept resounding this, as a mournful and funereal chant, continually by day and night: Woe to Jerusalem. He neither reviled the one who scourged him, nor gave thanks to the one who gave him food. There was one and the same answer to all, full of funereal wailing, and especially at the celebrations of the sacrifices. For seven years and five months, then, the same sequence of words, the same sound of voice remained.

And so, unwearied for so long a time, when the siege began he ceased to cry out those same words, as though it were fitting that the announcing should cease, now that the things which had been foretold were present. But when the flame began to envelop both city and temple together, going about the wall, he began to cry out again: Woe to the city, and the people, and the temple. And at the last he added: Woe also to me: and struck by a stone from a sling, he gave up his spirit uttering the same cry. It had also been written in ancient letters that the city itself, together with the temple, would then perish, when the temple should be made four-square. And so, whether forgetful, or stupefied by the necessity of the pressing evils, when Antonia was seized, they made the circuit of the temple four-square.

Among these things that was most notable, which remained inscribed in equally ancient writings which they called sacred, that according to that time there would come a man who, from their region, would take up dominion over the whole world. This thing put them into such a frenzy that they promised themselves not only liberty, but even a kingdom. Some thought this should be referred to Vespasian; the more prudent, to the Lord Jesus, who, born of them on earth according to the flesh, from Mary, spread his kingdom throughout the whole extent of the earth. And so, though such great events were coming to pass, they were not able to grasp what was being decreed by divine will.

And so, when the authors of the seditions had fled while the temple was burning, the Romans set up their standards within the circuit of the temple itself, and sacrificed opposite the eastern gate, proclaiming the emperor Titus with the loudest voices. Meanwhile a certain boy in that place, where the priests also were, whom both the lack of water and the heat of the nearby fire were wasting away with thirst, asked one of the Roman guards to give him his right hand, to offer him a drink. He at once held it out, pitying alike his age and his need: the boy drank: and because his innocent age had been readily trusted, he snatched the vessel of water, and rushed off at a run, so that he might also provide the priests with the means of drinking. The soldier wished to follow, but could not catch him. He, at his own peril, relieved the thirst of the priests. A good deceit, which harmed no one, and relieved a necessity.

In the end the soldier himself marveled more at the boy's devotion than he cursed the trick, since in that age, amid the destruction of the whole city and the common danger, the boy left undone no part of the service that was owed, out of reverence, to the priests. Not much later the priests, worn out by hunger and thirst, begged for their lives. Titus ordered them to be slain, replying that it was the mark of a degenerate spirit to wish to survive the temple and its office.

But when John and Simon and the other leaders of the seditions asked that he order the missiles and clamor of weapons to cease for a little while, and grant them the power to speak with him, and not be averse to indulgence, having secured silence, he answered thus: The time for mercy is too late, most wicked men, since nothing now remains to be kept back. I was offering it to you, and you scorned it, and thought it distrust, not indulgence. But I was grieving that innocent buildings were perishing through your crime, I was sorrowing that the common people were being forced to death; I wished to spare you, you would not allow it; I suspended battles, you rushed in; I offered peace, you did not receive it; I spoke to you often, I met with you frequently. I am not ashamed to say, by my asking I made you more insolent. What did you think?

That the Roman ranks would yield to you, and that by numbers you would surround the conquering army of all the lands? What fraction of the world has fought, since your own region could not sustain the whole of it, nor did necessity allow it? For our concern is better spent guarding the world than extending it. Wherever we go there is nothing new, nothing foreign, to whom the whole earth is a possession. This banditry, as a blemish on the body, we thought for a long time should be overlooked; we believed it should at some point be removed by severity, lest your disobedience and a certain darkness should dim the splendor of the Roman empire.

You have felt the virtue of Rome not by fighting but by dying. For we did not see your ranks in the field, but on the wall, when not even the barriers availed you for the protection of your safety. For what wall would resist those whom the ocean did not withstand? Or what city, fenced with the defense of walls, would be impregnable to our siege, when Roman arms have even penetrated the Britains, surrounded by the wall of a roaring element? That steep mountain of water was laid low beneath us. Your fathers, as the Jewish fables report, the wave of the Red Sea, passing by in the likeness of a wall, surrounded; Roman valor broke through the wall of the Ocean. I do not begrudge you the benefits of others. Let the sea have seen you and fled, as, shut in, you fled from the enemy, because you could not break through the enemy nor withstand him. For us, the flight of the Ocean would have been a loss, had it fled.

We waged war with the waves before the war; we conquered the raging sea before we came to the enemy. Britain received us, the conquerors of the elements. Those in whom they trusted, we subdued, so that the Ocean itself might be added to the sum of the triumph. But perhaps you presumed upon bodily strength. Are you stronger than the Germans, whom, hemmed in by the wall of the Alps, Roman fortitude led into servitude? Nor are those mountains like the sloping hills of Taurus, or the Canopic columns of the Egyptians, with whom you are accustomed to wage war. We have ascended above the clouds, and descending from the cloud we have conquered peoples; we have opened an aerial path for all. We do not begrudge you the path of the sea, provided that one belongs to the triumphant, this to the fleeing. And so before Roman valor the mountains have settled down, the rivers have dried up, losing the course which nature had directed, and bending to that which the victors commanded.

Let your Jordan be turned back, as you say, and return to its source, that it might open a path for you: Roman virgin Clœlia had no need of that, who, having broken her bonds, escaped the enemy, and running through the river brought herself to the Roman camp. Nor do we marvel at your fires, from which you are wont to boast in great songs that the Hebrew boys escaped. Our Mucius, with no one compelling him, put his hand into the flames, nor withdrew it, until, victor over the fire, he poured into his enemies the wonder of a courage that felt no flames. In the end, those who had hoped for triumph begged for peace. Or did those heavenly rations exalt you, and the food of the rains, against Roman valor? But it were fitting to consider that Africa herself, the very nurse of the world, is subject to Roman might. She who feeds all serves us: in our power is the hunger of all and the sustenance of everyone.

What nature gave to all, Roman valor has made its own right. It struck down Hannibal himself, and drove into exile him whom the whole world could not contain. Africa was too narrow for her own citizens. Spain did not seem fit for lingering; Gaul was too cramped for the traveler; Italy unworthy of the bond of friendship and the fellowship of alliance. You may boast, if you like, that rivers fought for you and heavenly powers battled; we conquered Hannibal as he rode upon rivers and thundered amid the waves nearby. The world was shaken by his own storms. And he battered our walls with arms. Nor indeed was it necessary that our enemies, like your Assyrians, be destroyed while sleeping, but while fighting. For victory is not sought in sleep, but in battle; there is no glory of valor where there is only chance favor.

Our enemies, not deceived by the ruddy hue of waters shimmering toward the rising sun, did not fall into our hands rashly, thinking us slain by the appearance of spilled blood: but knowing and prepared for war, they covered the fields of the earth with their own bodies, and filled them with their own blood. What courage set you in such insolence? Did you not see that those who once ruled over you now serve us? Egypt, which used to afflict you, pays us an annual tribute, and provides a way even to the regions of India, to go beyond the world and seek another world, the secrets of the sea, the farthest bounds of sun and ocean, and to join the inhabitants of another world to our empire. What of the kingdom of Antiochus, who inflicted grievous punishments upon you? Even the right of your religion, once snatched away, we ourselves restored to you, judging it more glorious to rule over kings than to abolish a kingdom.

Did not the very seat of your masters, Antioch, eagerly repudiate its own and choose us as masters? Did you yourselves not flee to us, in order to escape those masters? Did we not ourselves receive you, and defend you against them? We serve you, that you might live by your own laws; we have granted you the power to serve your own worship. We were unwilling to know your sacred things, but we honored them. Afterward you thought fit to rebel. Pompey took the temple, but did not destroy it; he occupied the city, but preserved all the offerings intact. In return for which, O grateful allies, you have repaid us this recompense, that you should rebel a third time?

Nero, perhaps, was to be despised, but Roman valor was not staked on one man alone: it had Vespasian as its soldier, who had already recalled the Gauls to peace: so brave in battle, that through him even Nero was victorious, through him Nero was formidable to his enemies: so faithful to his prince and lord, that he alone did not seek the empire, which he alone deserved. But Cestius had done harm: it was fitting that a complaint be lodged, not that arms be brought to bear. Father Vespasian was sent, who, unforeseen, was able to pour himself upon the unprepared: he went around Galilee, burned the distant places, that you might lay aside your insolence, and beg for pardon. He displayed his valor, and though he held all of you shut in, he went to Egypt, to grant a truce for repentance. Our absence made you more insolent, because you thought us occupied. But we have never been so occupied as to be absent from the world.

For even absent we are present, and to those placed far off we stand closer. For just as the soul in the body gives life to all its members, so Roman providence is present in all parts of its empire, and governs the whole Roman world as though present. For if that divine force gave to individual souls the power of ruling the body, how much more has it supplied to Roman vigor, by which, as it were, one body of our whole empire is animated, a certain vital substance for its preservation! And so the suspended war you yourselves renewed. My father, therefore, about to set out for the city of Rome, to be recovered from the tyrants, separated me from his company, lest an executor of his clemency should be lacking to you. I came to war with the appearance of one who terrifies, but with the feeling of one who begs. How many times did I call the army back from your walls!

How many times afterward did I draw it back from the inner recesses of the temple! How many times did I quench the fires! How many times did I warn you! But you never listened. Now at last you beg me, as though anything still remained, of the sort that has already been consumed, and yet I have kept my soldiers from slaughter, fire, and plunder. What do you desire? Why do you still stand armed, as though about to give laws, not to receive them? If you seek surrender, lay down your arms, no longer to be feared by the victors, but insolent toward the vanquished and full of arrogance: that you should beg armed; as though you must doubt our good faith, or do you still provoke our valor, threatening war? The people is destroyed, the temple burns, we hold the city. What else do you hope for, except that life be granted to you?

Therefore lay down your arms as the conquered; I will grant you life, even though you do not deserve it, because you were unwilling to preserve for yourselves what was your own. Then they began to ask that, bound by an oath never to surrender themselves to the Romans, he grant them the power to go out through the wall, that with their families they might go into the desert, yielding the city to the Romans. At this Titus was the more moved: Do you, he said, even dictate terms to us? Rather defend your homeland, stand by your temple, rise up with all your strength, keep your oath of death, since you have refused life. And at the same time he orders the Romans to rise up for the slaughter of the enemy. Very many began to be shaken by a graver indignation of the victors: nevertheless the sons of King Zara surrendered themselves, and his brothers, and very many of the common people with them.

And Titus, though roused to anger, did not abandon his resolve out of regard for royal rank, but received the fugitives: he gained only the profit of piety (which is the greatest gain). For the authors of the sedition plundered all the wealth of the royal house, so that nothing of it came to the Romans.

At the same time, as they made an assault, they rushed into the hall, and attacking two of the Roman soldiers, they slew one, a man of the infantry; but the horseman asked to be led to Simon, alleging that he had something to disclose to the aforementioned leader of the seditions. But when he was brought to him, since he added certain vain things, he was ordered to be slain: while the executioner delayed, his eyes already bound with a cloth, he tore himself away and fled to the Romans. Those fighting at close quarters received the fugitive, and Titus, when he was brought to him, judging it unworthy that one who had been able to be taken alive by the enemy should die, ordered him, stripped of his arms, to be dismissed: preserving for him what he had not lost through the enemy's cowardice, but taking away the military oath, which as a captive he had betrayed, and which as a fugitive he had dishonored.

This was for him a greater punishment: for among men the disgraces of military service are graver than the wounds of death. The Jews, however, repulsed at once, betook themselves to the upper parts of the city, abandoning the defense of the temple and the city. A great slaughter was carried out against those who remained, and the streets were filled with half-dead corpses. Caesar ordered the siege engines to be brought up also against the upper parts: seeing this, the Idumaeans chose men to send to Titus, to beg for surrender. Learning of this, Simon anticipated them, and intercepted the very men chosen to seek surrender. But the Idumaeans, not long after, though deprived of the help of their leaders, since they could no longer withstand the force, surrendered themselves to the Roman army. Thus first famine, and at last the despair of resisting, brought about the surrender. Nor did the Romans, already weary of so much slaughter, refuse the indulgence of life; and eager to sell captive slaves, they were the more ready to preserve their safety.

Very many were for sale, but few buyers: because the Romans disdained to have Jews in servitude; nor did any Jews remain who could ransom their own, since each one was glad merely to have escaped, even in poverty. And so they surrendered themselves everywhere, fear removed, since the robbers were absent, and the Romans pardoned.

Finally Jesus also, one of the priests, son of Thebuthus, surrendered himself, and willingly handed over the vessels of the priestly ministries, two lamps, tables, mixing-bowls, bowls, and all the golden vessels, and also the hangings, and the vestments of the chiefs of the priesthood, along with the precious stones, having received a pledge of safety. Phinees also, the keeper of the treasury, being seized, showed a great quantity of the priests' purple, and scarlet, and many other things which were kept for use. With these, cinnamon, and cassia, and many spices, and incense, and also many vessels of the sacred rites: he himself also handed over the sacred vestment, but compelled by fear, whence it was also a pardonable offense among his own people: yet, although the will was lacking, the deed ought not to have been lacking. Although we often judge more severely than we could ourselves guard against, if we were placed in such a necessity, still we ought to shun the service of theft, and the judgment of betrayal.

And now the ramparts had risen, and the battering-rams had begun to strike the upper wall on the seventh day of the month which they call Gorpiaeus: things had come to the last extremity. The very leaders of the factions themselves, thrown into confusion and terrified, they who had exulted amid the utmost dangers, were falling at the knees of individual men, begging for help. One could see how pitiable was that transformation from that terrible and proud height to this humble and plebeian abasement, into tears, weeping, and dread. The wall of the upper city had not yet fallen, when already they were running about among individuals, groaning that no defense remained, and imagining that the enemy had already entered. Many, as though already fighting from the higher parts, seemed to themselves to see the Romans: what they feared in mind, they pictured before their eyes, and the terror of the mind became an image to the sight.

At length, believing for certain that the enemy was already pressing upon their necks, those to whom still three towers remained—Mariamne, Phasael, and the Tower of Hippicus—stronger than the rest, abandoned the upper parts and fled for refuge into the underground vaults and hidden caves. John, however, not long after, wasted and worn by hunger and fasting, surrendered himself to Caesar, who, being reserved for the triumph, but bound with perpetual chains until death, more dragging out the breath of life than experiencing any pleasure of living, escaped the axe. Simon, however, hid himself even within the ruins of the burned city, concealing himself with a few more faithful followers in the underground vaults. By now Caesar had departed, the city having been burned, supposing that Simon too had either been consumed by fire, or crushed under the ruins, or slain by some man.

But he, as long as food sufficed, kept burrowing further inward in the dug-out caves; but when food failed, and no way of escape lay open, he suddenly crept up to the surface, clothed in a white garment with a purple robe over it, so as to strike a certain terror into those who saw him. He, the Roman soldiers at first being astonished, ordered them to lead him to their commander. There was in that place Terentius Rufus, whom Titus had left behind as prefect of the army in his place. When he arrived and Simon was questioned as to who he was, at first he said other things; afterward he confessed himself to be Simon. From there he was sent on to Caesar, and he too was reserved for the triumph. But because he had exercised cruelty against his fellow citizens, and had not surrendered himself to Caesar, after the pomp of the triumph he was condemned to death. On the eighth day of the month Gorpiaeus the city was burned down.

Countless thousands perished throughout the whole time of the siege, ten hundred thousand (one hundred ten myriads, as most assert)—of Jews indeed altogether, but not all of the same region and place, because at that time they had gathered from everywhere for the Paschal festival. The captives led away numbered up to ninety-seven thousand; the robbers were almost all slain at once: those who were stronger were led in the triumph, afterward thrown to the beasts and given over to other punishments, through nearly every city through which Titus made his way, so that through all he might spread fear by the punishment of rebellions.

At this same time the Alans, a fierce people long unknown to us, because by the difficulty of the inner regions and by the barrier of the Iron Gate which Alexander the Great set upon the sheer ridge of Mount Taurus, were held in check within, along with the other fierce and untamed peoples. They dwelt by the Scythian Tanais and the neighboring regions and the marshes of Maeotis, shut in as it were by a kind of prison of that famous king's device, so that they might work their own lands, and not overrun those of others.

But whether on account of the barrenness of the places, because the hoped-for fruitfulness of cultivation did not answer to the wishes of the covetous farmers, or through desire of plunder, they solicited the king of the Illyrians who governed those regions—whether by bribery or by a plea of defense is uncertain—that, the gate being opened, he might grant them the means of breaking out: this having been obtained, they poured themselves into the nation of the Medes; and having quickly obtained swift horses, and others likewise tied alongside on the right, onto which they might leap in turns whenever they pleased, they overran nearly the whole region: so that at first they threw everything into confusion and gave the appearance of a greater multitude, against which there was no place left for flight; then, having surrounded everyone, having wrought as much slaughter as they wished, they carried off their plunder. For the region was full of people and abounding in cattle; which, with no one resisting, lay easily open to pillage.

Indeed Pacorus himself, king of the Medes, betook himself to hidden places, consulting his safety rather than his kingdom; so that his wife and children and concubines, captured by the Alans, were afterward ransomed for a hundred talents. Nor was Tiridates, king of Armenia, free from danger, but, made more cautious by another's misfortune, foresaw the plague; and indeed he wished to meet it manfully, so as to turn the enemy away from his borders. Yet while he fought, caught in a noose, he would have fallen alive into the power of the enemy, had he not swiftly cut through the shapeless knot with a sharpened sword. For it is the art and manner of warfare among the Alans, out of a certain insolence in their own strength and haughty contempt for others, and likewise so that they might, by such a trick, disguise their habitual custom of deciding matters from a distance and their facility of fleeing, to cast nooses and to entangle the enemy.

Tiridates therefore fled, for whom it was enough to have escaped: but he left his own kingdom to be laid waste. For, as though avenging an injury received in that he had dared to engage them, they devastated Armenia more fiercely than the kingdom of Media. Laden therefore with the rich spoils of both kingdoms, they made their way back home. Titus, upon learning of their incursion, hastened to Antioch: yet gradually, as befitted a triumphant conqueror, and concealing his purpose, he celebrated the pomp of victory through each city. The Jews were being slain in the arena wherever he passed, and, torn apart by beasts, paid the deserved penalty of rebellion. At Antioch too the gentile populace pursued them with old hatreds: because the kings of the Persians, who had by right of victory claimed the votive offerings from the city of Jerusalem, had bestowed them upon the synagogues; and the Antiochenes too had granted other gifts of their own. Thus riches thus heaped up easily stirred up envy.

For to pass over now those things which the rivals for the priesthood did against the Maccabees, and how great a disaster to the citizens their ambition was, as we have recorded above; afterward Antiochus, born of no ignoble stock, but corrupt in character, having fabricated a charge that the Jews had conspired to burn the city of Antioch with fire, drove his own father, who was among the leading men of the Jews, and many others accused along with him, to death, by the onrush of the gentile mob.

Nor, sated with that parricide and the slaughter of many, did he rest quiet, but afterward too, having gained an opportunity—since it happened by an accidental fire that the porticoes of that same city, and the four-sided square, and the greatest part of the buildings were burned—he began again, under pretense of the aforesaid conspiracy, to press and assail the Jews, and would speedily have brought slaughter upon them all, had not the inquiry been reserved for Titus upon his arrival, for fear lest Caesar be moved by the usurped punishment of so many. This turn of events was the salvation of the Jews.

At Masada also very many of the Jews gathered, relying on the strength of the place, the task of storming which Titus deemed unworthy of holding an emperor's attention, and entrusted to Sylla, to whom he had committed the supreme command of the Roman army in those regions, and the charge of guarding against any renewal of rebellion. He himself hastened to Alexandria, and from there crossed by ship to Rome. Sylla, diligently attending to the task enjoined upon him, breached the wall of Masada with a battering-ram. The defenders built an inner wall of wood, because the material of the wall did not easily yield to blows of that kind from the engines. But the Romans, changing their method of warfare, threw fire, which readily caught on the wood, and grew without any delay. And so a great crash of flame, fed by the fire, was carried along, which at first, driven back by the breath of the north wind from the parts of the fortification, burned rather the Romans' own siege-works.

Then, the south wind having arisen, it turned back upon the fortress, so that all that wooden barrier of the wall was consumed, the material having been used up. The Romans, since night had intervened, secure in their victory, withdrew into their camp, so that on the following day they might subdue those now stripped bare and deprived of every defense. But lest anyone should escape, they surrounded the fortress with interwoven guards all around it.

And so, matters being desperate, Eleazarus, the instigator of the disturbances, seeing that no help remained, began a speech which, in the manner of rhetoricians, we have not omitted, as a kind of lamentable epilogue closing the work. What are we doing, sons of Abraham, men of royal race, unconquerable by the virtue of priestly grace? For virtue is not judged by the outcome of victory, which is often uncertain, but by constancy of purpose. From which it is plain to conclude, that to subdue an enemy belongs to fortune, but not to change one's mind belongs to virtue. Rightly, therefore, might I call you unconquerable, if no fear of death has yet overcome you. But not thus did our father Abraham instruct you: who in the case of his only son taught that not death, but immortality would follow, if he were sacrificed for religion. Why should I extol Josiah, than whom no better interpreter of religion existed, a despiser of death, a champion of freedom?

For he, set upon that royal throne where he might have deferred death, yet because he saw that captivity was coming upon the people of Israel on account of grievous sins, involved himself in another's war, and fled from life. Nechao cried out: "I was not sent against you, but against the king of Israel" (2 Chron. 35:21, 23); yet he did not withdraw until he received the deadly stroke of an arrow. By this wound he was laid low—a sign to us whether merit or chance has more weight in war. Josiah, the restorer of the ancient sacred rites, was defeated; Nechao, most wicked of all, was victorious: but the defeated one is now with the angels, the victor is in torments. For who does not know that reward is not laid up for men in this life, but after the conclusion of this contest? Here we run, that there we may attain the palm: here is the contest, there the prize. Therefore no favor lies in length of years here.

In short, Abel was quickly slain, Cain survived: so death was the lot of innocence, and life the lot of misery. From that time we have inherited the same fate, so that to live has become most wretched, to die blessed. For what is life, but the prison of the soul, which is shut up within this dungeon, and clings to fleshly fellowship? By whose infirmities it is shaken, by whose toil it is afflicted, by whose anger it is worn down, kindled by desires, vexed by fury, nor can it easily raise itself up, bound to the earth, compacted with dust, tied with a chain, entangled with sinews. Yet no small power belongs to it, that it may vivify the body, and pour into insensible matter the vigor of sense; and this it invisibly bestows on each by its own soul, and rules the whole man, and carries him beyond mortal frailty, so that he may grasp the knowledge of heavenly secrets, so that he may direct his mind to things to come.

Thus, though made after the image and likeness of its Prince, it is not seen, although it is placed within the body, nor is it perceived by bodily eyes; nor is its entrance or its departure detected by any sight—representing a kind of likeness of a divine gift. When it enters, it infuses life; when it departs from the body, it works death. Where the soul is, there is life; where it is absent, there is death. Whatever it visits, it rouses to life; whatever it abandons is immediately dissolved and forthwith withers away: by the infusion of the soul, the dead rises; by its departure, the living is deprived of breath. Who then would doubt that there seems to reside in it a working of immortality, since it has the power to avert death? Yet this is a burden to itself, though it overflows to the use of others. And what it grants to the body, it takes from itself: for it is weighed down and, as it were, bowed toward the earth by this mortal body.

Thus the life of the body is the death of the soul; and again the death of the body appears to be the freedom of the soul: for while we are in this body, our soul is in servitude, and indeed in a wretched servitude, by which it is exiled from paradise, and wanders away from its Prince. But when it has been freed from the bonds of this flesh, it flies back to that pure and splendid and higher place, and stands before the Lord its God, and enjoys the dwellings of the saints and rejoices in the fellowship of the blessed: since it now has no fellowship with the dead, and has left behind its lodging among corpses, heavenly grace breathes upon it, nor does any disturbance of human cares agitate it.

Sleep is a sign to us of how much grace the soul recovers through the death of the body: for when the body is lulled to rest, and its desires and all its movements are, as it were, dead, we very often converse with the saints: we receive back those whom we have lost, so that for us the absent are present, and the dead live, and all grief is stilled. Let us draw near and speak with God, let us learn of things to come. Let there be rest for the weary, freedom for slaves. What therefore we dream while sleeping, this the dead attain: and what in sleep is an image, in death is the experience of truth, and the grace of freedom.

Hence it is customary among some nations, that they attend the births of men with weeping, and their deaths with rejoicing: because they grieve that the former are born to hardship, and rejoice that the latter have returned to blessedness; they lament that the souls of the former have come into servitude, and rejoice that those of the latter have been released into freedom. It is also reported of the wise men of the Indians, that when they have conceived the desire to die, they declare that they wish to depart, and none opposes them. Then, when the preparation for death has gone forward, they leap gladly onto the burning pyre, and bid farewell to the bystanders: the women grieve, as though bereft of support, or grieve for the little children who are left behind; others give a blessing, and feel no envy, because they hasten to better dwellers, to more splendid places and purer companionships. What else then can I say of you, when even among barbarian nations death is followed as the path to freedom?

Long ago, then, you were known to me as best prepared to answer to your ancestral institutions, holding that you ought to serve neither the Romans nor any nation, but God alone, who alone is the just and true Lord of all. The day has come which demands that you prove your resolve by deeds; do not dishonor the glory of your ancient character, so that, born in freedom, you should subject yourselves to the dominion of men: especially since it was possible for you formerly to serve even without danger, but now it is necessary to undergo harsh punishments along with servitude: if we offer ourselves to serve the empire of the Romans—we who were the first of all to provoke war, and are the last still holding out in arms—shall we, who did not surrender to the emperor when he offered peace, surrender to Sylla when he threatens bitterness? O wretched ones, to what hope of this life have we reserved ourselves?

Suppose the enemy forgives: what will it profit, when the offense against God is manifest? Fires turned back from the enemy upon us, the blasts of the winds changed, the flames turned back, so that our own defenses were burned up. Who could live with God as adversary? There is no room for pardon, but a manifest command for voluntary death. For why did the night intervene, except that the enemy might not come upon us first, or, once the wall's defense was burned, immediately break in; but that time might be reserved for us to carry out mutual slaughter, and that we might be allowed to die with our children and our kindred; lest we should see gasping old men and old women dragged off by the Romans, our dearest wives seized for the victor's lust? Let us die together with our fatherland, lest we survive as witnesses to so great a disgrace.

Where then shall we flee from the face of God, or where shall we go from the Lord of heaven who is hostile to us? If the mountains should fall upon us and hide us in hollow caves, how nevertheless could we escape the indignation of so great a power? For where shall we go forward, where God is not, since he is everywhere? Are these mediocre proofs by which we are taught that he who once presided over us has now, on account of our sins, long been hostile to our nation? Who can doubt this, seeing that our own hands have been turned against us, and that domestic sedition has destroyed more than war? I will not grant to the Romans the credit of having conquered, nor do they themselves claim this, since they know that almost all of us have perished by our own arms rather than by those of foreigners. For what Roman arms did the Jews who dwelt in Caesarea see?

On their sabbath rest day, amid the solemn observances of our sacred rites, a multitude of gentile Caesareans, kindled by some sudden impulse and by fury sent from above, destroyed twenty thousand, put all to flight, so that they emptied the whole city. Did not madness fill all Syria, so that Jews and gentiles, settled in the same cities, and joined before by the bond of common dwelling, afterward clashed with one another in arms, that thereby a ford might be made ready for the Romans toward their future victory? For what shall I say of Scythopolis, to which the Jews first hastened, that they might forestall the gentile population, lest they should plot against our people, following the example of the other cities? And so those who ought rightly, with joined forces, to have contended in war against foreigners—these things, on the contrary, the Jews decreed against themselves, so that a part of them fought against their own kinsmen and neighbors.

Then they themselves, as the price of their labor and of the blood they had spent, were destroyed by the gentiles for that very thing which they themselves had prevented the gentiles from doing. The Damascenes, with no cause existing, slew eight thousand Jews. The Ascalonites slew two thousand five hundred. In the city called Ptolemais also, two thousand were slain. At Alexandria indeed there was an old hatred between the Jews and the gentile peoples, from the time when Alexander the Great made use of the zeal of the Jews to subject the Egyptians: whence, the city having been founded, privileges were granted equally to Jews and Egyptians, and separate dwellings, lest their worship should be mingled; for they wished to preserve their purifications without any contamination. Hence there were frequent conflicts between them, quarrels arose, judgment was sought.

Yet it is clear that nothing was violated by the benefits of so great a king, but afterward, when a tumult arose from the gentiles, some Jews having been killed, others being held for punishment, the Jewish people, moved by the injury, rose up against the authors of the injury; and when they wished more stubbornly to be avenged upon the citizens, the Roman army was brought in, which poured out sixty thousand Jews within the city. But why do I dwell on lesser matters, when we must lament the destruction of the whole world in the ruin of a single city? Where is the greatest city, Jerusalem? Where is fair Sion? Where is the wondrous temple? Where is that second tabernacle, the sanctuary of holiness, into which once a year alone the high priest was accustomed to enter, not without blood, which he offered for himself and for the sin of the people? It has been profaned by the gentiles; those who destroyed it dwell among the remains of the city.

Where, I ask, are you, city crowded with peoples, venerable to kings, acceptable to God, seat of grace? Your pavements were of marble, your walls gleamed with marble, your roofs shone with precious marble, your gates glittered with gold, others shone with silver. All are slain, both those who dwelt in you continually, and those who gathered to you from all parts of the whole world: so that there is no doubt that the whole world perished in you. Everything stripped bare, burned from the roofs, thrown down from the foundations; your dwelling has become desolate, and there is none who dwells in your tabernacles; and does anyone still wish to live, and not repent of having lived? Hard are the eyes that can see these things; merciless the souls that can wish to survive amid such great sorrows: not because the calamities have ceased, but because there is no longer any rest. For where shall we turn our eyes, or what would delight us to behold?

The whole city is a sepulcher of the dead; only ashes meet the eyes of those who look; the streets are empty of the living, filled with corpses. Wretched elders, with hair grimed with ash, and torn garments, sit upon the remains of the dead, covering their bare bones, so as to defend them from birds and beasts. A few women remain unharmed, whom the impious soldier has preserved for shame, not for life. Who, seeing these things, and thinking of the prolongation of living, would dare to lift his eyes to heaven? Who so forgetful of his fatherland, an enemy to his own people, estranged from piety, without sweetness of feeling, whose spirit is so effeminate and soft? Who so timid that he would not be ashamed to have been spared for this?

Would that we had died long ago, or, if life had remained, that the light of our eyes had perished, before we beheld the holy city destroyed by the hands of enemies, and this temple, consecrated to God by our ancestors, so impiously burned with flames, or before we saw the priests lying slain within the temple! Let us therefore make amends, in that we have survived these evils, so that we may not seem to have deferred death out of love of life, but out of purpose of virtue. The enemy has surrounded every fortification, nothing remains except ourselves or our wives. Already they are setting up our sons for auction; and they contend among themselves as to who shall carry off whose wife: whether they are to be distributed according to the merits of rank or the order of persons, or compelled wretchedly to submit to lots.

For us also are prepared prodigies of punishment, the most exquisite torments, not only burning flames or various kinds of death by the stroke of the victor's axe, harsh indeed after chains, after prison, after the yoke of punishment, but more tolerable to men, if it be free from mockery; but also limbs torn from the living, and especially hands cut off. Not undeservedly, because they failed in their duty, when they might have helped themselves. We must also undergo the bites of wild beasts for the spectacle of the victors, a thing now celebrated in the various arenas of the cities: either it ought to be shameful to us as an example, or pitiable to behold, that we should be reserved either for beasts or to fight against our brothers. Why then do we delay? It is no longer in our power to escape what we fear.

If we are unwilling to kill our children out of mercy, or ourselves out of virtue, it will be necessary that we be killed by our own brothers or kinsmen through disgrace: this our affection persuades, that the victors demand. If we refuse to carry out the duty of piety, we shall be compelled to undergo the mockery of a parricidal procession. Let us then undertake that which will profit our children and our wives: if we are weaker, let us remove them from future torments; if we are stronger, let us overcome the compassions of parents, the affections of kinship: and in this let us conquer the enemy, when we take away his prey. This virtue demands, this shame persuades. Not to fear death is virtue. For indeed we are all born unto death, and we beget children unto death; whose death is assigned by nature, but whose captivity is given over to disgrace. Therefore let us snatch from mockery those whom we could not rescue from danger.

Have pity then, fathers, on your children, husbands, on your wives, let us all have pity on the little ones; which is the chief thing belonging to us, while we still have the power to pity: that we may show mercy from what is our own, lest we seem to have been born and preserved for disgrace. For who could bear that fathers should be slain before the eyes of their sons, sons in the sight of their parents? That weary old men, worn with age, should be dragged either to death, or, what is worse, to servitude; that women with disheveled hair should be led away in the sight of their husbands, and violently dragged to disgrace? To hear the voice of a wailing infant calling for its father, that he might come to its aid, when already you would hear this in vain, its hands bound, and its captive neck placed beneath the yoke? Therefore, while our hands are still free, while we grasp the sword, let us undertake the work which the very victor will marvel at.

Let our wives receive the supreme office of conjugal love, as it were a dowered inheritance. We restore to them these keys with the new testimony of blood, that they may be the heirs of our freedom. This they themselves urge, certainly they deserve it, they who wish it rather than to be compelled, who shrink from what they flee; nor will the little ones fear the sword, which through their age they do not understand, which they ought to receive from pious parents, that they may truly become free. For us too, what could be more excellent? If we first burn the fortress, let us yet preserve the grain, lest they think that we were driven by hunger rather than moved by zeal for virtue to undertake the office of mutual slaughter. Let us give them food soaked in blood; and if the flame consumes it, the very smell of the burnt grain will be a sign to the besiegers that what was abundant to the besieged has perished for them.

After this let each one offer himself to the wound, and, about to die, cover his fatherland, and meet his end in a final embrace. Let our fatherland become for us a sepulcher of freedom, which was once the dwelling place of dignity: this burial mound befits our remains, that we may be covered by the enclosure of virtue. Kindled by such a speech, the rest held their drawn swords, gave kisses to their wives, took their children into their embrace, weeping and at the same time hastening, that they might forestall the enemy. "These," they said, "are the pledges of our love which we give you, the rewards of supreme necessity"; and having manfully suppressed their feelings, they fulfilled that very passion they excluded: fearless women offered themselves to the wound for the preservation of chastity, and had themselves put on the spirit of their husbands. Their kindred thus slain, and their pledges also, they chose strong men to carry out the completion of the slaughter.

Thus all were laid low, nine hundred and sixty in number, with the little children and the women: one woman alone survived, who hid five sons in an aqueduct, while the rest attended to their final necessities: she, roused by the voice of the Romans arriving at dawn, was the informer of the matter. But their wealth, fire having first been set to it by themselves, was consumed.