The rumor that Josephus was planning to hand the country over to the Romans spread throughout Galilee, and thousands gathered in the hippodrome at Taricheae to protest. Repeatedly, they demanded his stoning or burning. The clamor was whipped by John of Gischala and by an old enemy, the chief magistrate Jesus ben Sapphias, who stepped forward dramatically with a copy of the Torah in his hands. “Perhaps you’re selfish enough not to be disgusted by Josephus, fellow citizens,” he shouted. “But at least you can still remember your Law, which your commander was planning to betray and for its sake alone you ought to abominate the crime and punish such an impertinent criminal.”
Jesus then led a band of armed men to Josephus’s house, intending to kill him. Waking the governor, the sole member of his bodyguard who remained told him they were coming and advised suicide. Instead, he put on black clothes, sprinkled dust on his head, hung his sword round his neck, and, avoiding Jesus, went to the hippodrome. Here, a few people, mainly Taricheans, felt sorry for him, but most of the mob were country folk who disliked his taxes. They yelled that they wanted their money back and told him to admit he was a traitor. Throwing himself on the ground and bursting into tears, he made such an impression that the mob prevented some soldiers from killing him. “Fellow citizens, if I deserve to die, I shan’t ask for any mercy. But at least, please let me tell you the truth before my death.” Then he promised, with heroic untruthfulness, to confess everything:I have no intention of sending all this money to Agrippa or of keeping it for myself. And I am certainly not going to treat your enemy as a friend of mine, nor am I going to profit from your loss. But I have noticed, you Taricheans, that your city has much more need of fortifications and of being made safe than any other city in the area, and has to find the funds for building a proper wall. I was worried that the citizens of Tiberias or some other city might decide to appropriate the money for their own use, so I decided to keep it back and build a wall for you. But if you don’t care for the idea, then of course I shall hand over what was brought to me so that you can divide the lot up between you. I have tried to do my best for you, so why punish a man who merely wanted to do you a good turn?
The Taricheans cheered this “confession” and, as he had hoped, they and the Tiberians started quarreling with each other. Above the din, he went on shouting that they could do better than be angry with someone who was only trying to help them. Eventually, most of the crowd drifted away, and he went home, no doubt with considerable relief. (Josephus gives two slightly different accounts of this incident.18) However, 2,000 of them suddenly returned, waving weapons and shouting menaces outside his house, which they threatened to burn down. In response, he invited their leaders to come in and discuss their grievances. As soon as the men were inside and the door was shut, he had them seized and soundly flogged by his bodyguards with the terrible Roman whip (studded with lead and drawing blood with each stripe) “until their guts showed through their flesh,” he writes with obvious pleasure. In addition, he tells us in the Vita, he had a hand cut off from the biggest of the leaders and hung around his neck. (It has to be said that this revolting punishment was fairly standard practice.) Then he had them thrown out into the street, more dead than alive, their friends bolting in horror at the sight.19
Undeterred, John of Gischala hatched a new plot. While Josephus was away at a village in Galilee called Cana, John appeared at Tiberias, after writing a friendly letter to him to say that he was coming to take the hot baths. Encouraged by Justus ben Pistus, he then tried to make the inhabitants hand over the city to him. However, Josephus returned unexpectedly with 200 troops and John hid in his lodgings, pretending that he was ill. Dismissing all save a handful of his escort, Josephus went to the stadium and from the top of a wall began to tell the crowd about some important news that he had received. Suddenly, one of his soldiers yelled that John’s thugs were coming up behind him. “The swords were at his throat” when, just in time, he leaped down from the wall, ran to the lake, and jumped into a boat, taking refuge at Taricheae.
According to Josephus, not only the Taricheans but the entire people of Galilee were so angry at this attempt to murder him that he had to stop “tens of thousands” from marching on Gischala, where John had taken refuge, and burning the plotter and his city. John sent a letter vehemently denying all knowledge of a plot, “ending with oaths and horrible curses, by which he hoped to convey an air of sincerity.”20 Josephus then announced that he had discovered the names of John’s supporters in every city in Galilee and that he was preparing to burn the house of anyone who did not leave his party within five days. As a result, 3,000 men rushed to offer their swords to Josephus.21
In contrast, the citizens of Tiberias went over to King Agrippa, inviting him to occupy their city, evicting Josephus and his bodyguard as soon as a handful of the king’s horsemen rode in. He responded by collecting all the boats on Lake Gennesaret, some 230, manning each one with only four sailors, and then took his armada across the water to Tiberias, anchoring far out, so that the Tiberians could not see that the little vessels were virtually unmanned. Then he sailed his own boat to near the shore. Believing a huge army was about to attack them, the horrified citizens threw down their weapons and surrendered. Josephus then asked for a delegation with whom he could negotiate and on one pretence or another tricked the entire senate of 600 men, together with about 2,000 citizens, into coming on board his boats.
While being put ashore at Taricheae, they shouted that the instigator of the revolt had been Clitus, “a rash and headstrong youth,” so Josephus ordered one of his bodyguards to amputate the young man’s hands. When the guard dared not go in among the huge crowd of prisoners, Clitus begged to be allowed to keep one, and after Josephus had grudgingly agreed, he cut off his left hand with his right, using his sword. Josephus tells us that he felt extremely proud about the way in which he had crushed the Tiberians’ revolt “without any bloodshed.”22
Then he asked the Tiberian council to dinner. Among the guests was his old enemy, Justus, along with his father, Pistus. “During the meal, I said I knew very well that the Roman army was terrifyingly effective, but kept quiet about it because of the brigands”—by which he meant extremists. (He was saying that everyone present realized that Rome would reconquer Judea.) “I suggested they should be as discreet as I was and be patient. I also advised them not to criticize my government, as they were unlikely to find another general as tolerant as myself.” That was not all he had to say during this cheerful entertainment. “In addition, I reminded Justus how, just before I arrived from Jerusalem, the Galileans had cut off his brother’s hands for forging letters.” Finally he recalled how the people of Gamala had murdered Justus’s brother-in-law. Clearly in a good mood, he gave orders the next morning for the release of his Tiberian prisoners.23
His cheerfulness was soon dispelled by a crisis to which he devotes several pages of the Vita. John of Gischala had sent his brother, Jonathan, to Jerusalem to obtain the intervention of Simon ben Gamaliel, who appears to have been his friend, if not a very close one. It also seems that Joazar and Judas, Josephus’s two lieutenants, had returned to the capital and severely criticized the governor of Galilee.
A Pharisee whom even Josephus describes as “a man of illustrious family,” Simon, and his ally Gorion ben Joseph had considerable influence in Jerusalem, and they persuaded the authorities to replace Josephus with John as soon as possible.24 They agreed about the governor’s shortcomings (he claims they were bribed), accepting allegations about him that appear to have included corruption, luxurious living, and stealing. “Tyranny,” which presumably meant threatening behavior, was another charge, to some extent borne out by the many times Tiberias had rebelled. There also seem to have been insinuations that he was intending to hand the province over to the Romans. But instead of replacing him with John of Gischala, they decided to install a commission.
As a result, four commissioners from Jerusalem, three of them Pharisees and all highly respected, were sent to
Galilee to arrest or kill the governor. One was Joazar, Josephus’s former lieutenant. Financed from the public treasury, they rode to the province with a thousand armed men. Luckily for Josephus, his father had learned of their mission and sent a letter to warn him. Reassured by a dream worthy of a prophet that he was destined to stay in office and lead the fight against the Romans, and heartened by having been begged by the Galileans to remain—at least he says they begged him—he assembled an army on the pretext that it was needed to fight Roman raiders from Syria. Then he waited for the commissioners to arrive. When they came, they wrote and very politely asked him to join them on an expedition to punish John of Gischala but to bring only a few men.
While Josephus was at dinner, their letter was delivered by an insolent young officer who did not even bother to salute and told him to be quick about writing an answer:However, I asked him to sit down and join us for dinner. He refused. So I held the letter in my hand without opening it, talking to my companions about other things. I soon rose from the table and, after saying goodnight to most of them, invited four close friends to stay, telling my servant to bring some wine.
When no one was looking, I opened the letter, saw exactly what the writers were up to, and sealed it again. Holding the letter as if I had not read it, I ordered the soldier to be given twenty drachmas for his travelling expenses. He took the money, thanking me.
Guessing from his reaction that greed was the best way of getting the better of him, I then said, “If you would like to drink with us, you can have a drachma for every goblet of wine you drink.” He was only too pleased to accept, and in order to win as much money as possible drank so deeply that he got very drunk indeed. Unable to keep a secret any longer, he at last told me, without even being asked, all about the plot that was brewing and how his superiors had sentenced me to death.25
The commissioners’ attempts to lay hands on the wily governor of Galilee dragged on for weeks, at times degenerating into farce. They had no help from John of Gischala, who wanted the governorship for himself and who never forgave Simon ben Gamaliel for conceding to the commission; the rejection may have given him a lasting hatred for the aristocratic junta at Jerusalem and the entire ruling class. Nor did the Galilean peasants, who formed the bulk of the governor’s supporters, have any time for these haughty Pharisees.
The quarry arranged for crowds to boo the commissioners wherever they went, much to their fury, while when they tried to send letters around the province asking for support, he had the couriers arrested and put in chains. Attempts to kidnap him failed—one in a castle, another in a synagogue, and a third at a feast. When they persuaded the Tiberians to revolt, Josephus captured one of the commissioners who organized the uprising, by offering terms and then seizing the man around the waist when he came to negotiate. After this coup he marched into Tiberias with 10,000 troops and imprisoned anyone who was known to be hostile to him. It was the end of the commission.
Although Josephus survived, it had been a humiliating episode. It meant that not only throughout Galilee but in Jerusalem as well, there were influential people who had decided that the governor was not up to his job. Pretending that it had all been a plot by John of Gischala, boasting of his resourcefulness and of the supposed loyalty of the Galileans toward him, he uses all his skill to disguise the affront in the Vita. Even so, toward the end of his few months in Galilee, if his account is correct, it really does look as though he had outwitted his opponents. The commissioners had left, John of Gischala was confined to his little city, and Justus of Tiberias had taken refuge at King Agrippa’s court. It also seems that Josephus had cowed restive cities, such as Tiberias.
“In those days, I was about thirty years old, a time of life when, even if you are wholly respectable, it is not easy to avoid being slandered,” he says in the Vita, referring to his Galilean period.26 “Yet I never molested women, while I refused all the presents offered to me as I didn’t need them. I suppose I kept some of the loot captured from Syrian cities in the area and admit that I sent it back to relations at Jerusalem.” But he was sure his conduct had been beyond reproach. His self-esteem is almost ludicrous. “The Galileans were so fond of me that when their cities were stormed and their wives and children sent off to the slave market they were far more worried about what had happened to me,” he claims complacently. 27 Yet it is unlikely that the notoriously boorish Galilaioi felt much in common with a rich patrician from Jerusalem who, like many well-bred Jews, had difficulty in understanding what they were trying to say to him in their thick accents.
“I took Sepphoris twice by storm, Tiberias four times and Gabara once,” he says, hoping to impress us. He adds that he never punished any of these cities for rebelling.28 Not only are most of these claims patently untrue, but the statement is an admission that he was unable to assert his authority over Galilee, which by now must have been in hopeless disorder. Despite the glowing account he gives of his military achievements, he was clearly no good as a field commander—which, since he had had no military experience, was scarcely surprising. His inadequacy explains why there were so many revolts against his administration, and why John of Gischala never gave up hope of replacing him.
In fairness, it has to be said that at least one modern historian is inclined to believe that he had been a success and takes his pretensions at face value. E. M. Smallwood thinks that by spring 67, when a new Roman offensive opened, Josephus had established his authority over all Galilee except for Sepphoris.29 Not everyone will agree with her, despite her impressive scholarship.
He had to suffer a further humiliation. The citizens of Sepphoris—which, it will be remembered, was the Galilean capital—wrote to Caesennius Gallus, commander of the Twelfth Legion and Cestius’s deputy at Antioch, asking him to send them a Roman garrison. This duly arrived, and Josephus was unable to dislodge it. Sepphorians preferred security under the Romans, however oppressive, to freedom under an inept Jewish governor. Yet he claims, blandly and untruthfully, that “Everything had calmed down in Galilee by now,” after describing how he outwitted the citizens of Tiberias with his armada. “The people stopped quarrelling and got ready to fight the Romans.”30
They were certainly getting ready to fight at Jerusalem, where the walls were being strengthened and every wealthy man who was not a secret supporter of the Romans was acquiring an arsenal for himself and his servants. The noise of weapons and armor being forged rang out all over the city. Most of the young men were enthusiastically training as soldiers, disrupting the normal pattern of everyday life, but the more balanced among the citizens were very gloomy indeed, realizing what lay ahead and bewailing their fate. There were omens that could only spell disaster, although firebrands were trying to give them an optimistic interpretation.
Even before the Romans arrived, the mood in the Jewish capital was divided. On the one hand, there were those who believed their city might soon be facing destruction but made up their minds to fight to the end. On the other hand, there were the optimists, who argued, not entirely without reason, that King Herod’s fortifications made Jerusalem capable of surviving the most determined siege. What was certain, however, was that the junta at Jerusalem had no time to help a man who remained governor of Galilee despite their wishes, especially after the commissioners had reported how insultingly he had outwitted them. Josephus was now on his own and had to fend for himself.
7
The Return of the Legions
“For a nation is come up upon my land, strong, and without number, whose teeth are the teeth of a lion.”
JOEL, I, 6
“WHEN NERO WAS told of the Roman disaster in Judea, as one might expect he was very shaken and bewildered, although he did his best to hide it,” Josephus tells us, perhaps echoing the description of a courtier who had been present.
He lost his temper, saying that what had happened was entirely his commander’s fault and had nothing at all to do with the enemy’s generalship. Believing as he did that someone who bore the wh
ole burden of empire should show contempt for disturbances of this sort, he always feigned indifference to reversals of any kind. Just how worried he was, however, could be seen from the pains he took in trying to mend matters. After debating with himself who would know best how to deal with the east when it was in such a mess, and be able to put down the Jewish rebellion and stop the trouble from spreading to other countries, he decided that only Vespasian could do the job properly.1
Fifty-seven years old, Titus Flavius Sabinus Vespasianus, an obscure Sabine from the little village of Reate (Rieti), was far from being a patrician and spoke with an uncouth accent. A no-nonsense sort of man, tough, shrewd, and efficient, with a caustic wit, a soldier’s soldier who always led from the front and had been wounded several times, he was liked by his troops despite being a ferocious disciplinarian. According to Tacitus, he often marched on foot at the head of his army (despite his gout), marked out the night’s camp each evening, ate whatever was put in front of him, and dressed as a ranker.2 If he appeared to be a mediocrity at this stage of his career, he was at least an experienced one, having campaigned in Germany and Britain, where Suetonius says he fought in thirty battles, captured twenty towns, and conquered the Isle of Wight.3 Even so, running short of money, he had abandoned military life to deal in mules.
Jerusalem's Traitor: Josephus, Masada, and the Fall of Judea Page 10