All this would be natural in a chronicler who was one of Vespasian's

staff, but it is odd in the Jewish commander of Galilee. Again, he makes

certain confusions about Hebrew names of places, which are easily

explained in a Roman, but are inexplicable in the learned priest he

represents himself to be. He says the town of Gamala was so called

because of its supposed resemblance to a camel (in Greek, Kamelos), and

the Jews corrupted the name.[1] A Roman writer no doubt would have

regarded the Hebrew [Hebrew: Namal] as a corruption of the Greek word: a

Jew should have known better.

[Footnote 1: B.J. III. iv. 2.]

Again, he explains Bezetha, the name of the northeastern quarter of

Jerusalem, as meaning the new house or city,[1] a mistake natural to a

Roman who was aware that it was in fact the new part of the city, and

alternatively called by the Greek name [Greek: kainopolis], but an

extraordinary blunder for a Jew, who would surely know that it meant the

House of Olives, while the Aramaic or popular name for "new city" would

be Bet-Hadta. He does not once refer to Mount Zion, but knows the hill

by its Greek name of Acra. Yet again it is significant that he inserts

in his geography pagan touches that are part of the common stock of

Greco-Roman notices of Palestine. At Joppa, he says, one may still see

on the rock the trace of the chains of Andromeda,[2] who in Hellenistic

legend was said to have been rescued there by the fictitious hero

Perseus. Describing the Dead Sea,[3] he mentions the destruction of the

cities of Sodom and Gomorrah as a myth, as a Greek or a Roman would have

done.[4] His very accuracy about some topographical details is

suspicious. Colonel Conder[5] points with surprise to the fact that his

description of the fortress of Masada overlooking the Dead Sea, the

siege of which he had not seen, is absolutely correct, while his account

of Jotapata, which he defended, is full of exaggeration. The probable

explanation is that in the one place he copied a skilled observer; in

the other, he trusted to his own inaccurate memory. We may infer that as

in the _Antiquities_ he mainly compiled the work of predecessors that

are known, so in the _Wars_ he compiled the works of predecessors that

are unknown, adding something from his personal experience and his

national pride.

[Footnote 1: B.J. V. v. 8.]

[Footnote 2: B.J. IV. ix. 3. Pliny says the same thing in Latin.]

[Footnote 3: B.J. IV. viii. 4.]

[Footnote 4: Tac. Hist. v. 7.]

[Footnote 5: Tent Work in Palestine, 1. 207.]

Apart from his dependence on others' work, his chronicle of the war is

marred by the need of justifying his own submission, his Roman

standpoint, and his ulterior purpose of pleasing and flattering his

patrons. Vespasian and Titus are the righteous ministers of God's wrath

against His people, His vicars on earth, and every action in their

ruthless process of extermination has to be represented as a just

retribution required to expiate the sin of Jewish resistance. Titus

especially is singled out for his unfailing deeds of bravery; and when

anything is amiss with the proceedings of the Romans, the Imperial

family is always exculpated. Characteristic is the palliation of

Vespasian's brutal treatment of the people of Tarichea. When they

surrendered, they were promised their lives, but twelve hundred old men

were butchered, and over three thousand men and women were sold as

slaves. Josephus cannot find the execution of the divine will in this,

and so he is driven to explain that Vespasian was overborne by his

council, and gave them an ambiguous liberty to do as seemed good to

them.

It is the pivot of the story of the wars, as has been stated, that the

internal strife of the Jews brought about the ruin of the nation, and

the testimony of Josephus has perpetuated that conception of the last

days of Jerusalem. Our other records of the struggle go to suggest that

civil strife did take place. Tacitus[1] states that there were three

leaders, each with his own army in the city, and the Rabbinical

authorities[2] speak of the three councils in Jerusalem. It is further

said that the second Temple was destroyed because of the unprovoked

hatred among the Jews, which was the equal of the sins of murder,

unchastity, and idolatry that brought about the fall of the first

Temple.[3] Yet the fact that the men who were the foremost agitators of

the Rebellion were its leaders to the end suggests that the people had

reliance on their leadership; and Josephus probably traded largely on

his prejudices for the particulars of the civil conflicts, and he placed

all the blame on the party that was least guilty. Adopting the Roman

standpoint, he denounced the whole Zealot policy, and for John of

Gischala, their leader, he entertained a special loathing. It is

therefore his purpose to show that all the sedition was of John's

making, while it would seem more probable that the disturbances arose

because the Romanizing aristocrats were planning surrender.

[Footnote 1: Hist. v. 12.]

[Footnote 2: Midr. Kohelet, vii. 11.]

[Footnote 3: Yoma, 9b.]

According to Josephus, the Zealots, who were masters of the greater part

of Jerusalem during the struggle, established a reign of terror. They

trampled upon the laws of man, and laughed at the laws of God. They

ridiculed the oracles of the prophets as the tricks of jugglers. "Yet

did they occasion the fulfilment of prophecies relating to their

country. For there was an ancient oracle that the city should be taken

and the sanctuary burnt when sedition should affect the Jews." Josephus

shares the pagan outlook of the Roman historian Tacitus, who is

horrified at the Jewish disregard of the omens and portents which

betokened the fall of their city, and speaks of them as a people prone

to superstition (what we would call faith) and deaf to divine warnings

(what we would call superstition).[1] Josephus and his friends were

looking for signs and prophecies of the ruin of the people as an excuse

for surrender; the Zealots, men of sterner stuff and of fuller faith,

were resolved to resist to the end, and would brook no parleying with

the enemy. They were in fact political nationalists of a different

school and leaning from the aristocrats and the priests. The latter

regarded political life and the Temple service as vital parts of the

national life, and believing that the legions were invincible were

anxious to keep peace with Rome. The Zealots regarded personal liberty

and national independence as vital, and, to vindicate them, fought to

the end with Rome. Both the extreme political parties lacked the

spiritual standpoint of the Pharisees, who believed that the Torah even

without political independence would hold the people together till a

better time was granted by Providence. The party conflicts induced

violence and civil tumult, and Josephus would have us believe that

"demoniac discord" was the main cause of the ruin of Jerusalem. During

the respite which the Jews enjoyed before the final siege of Jerusalem,

he alleges that a bitter feud was waged incessantly between Eleazar the

son of Simon, who held the Inner Court of the Temple, Simon, the son of

Gioras, who held the Upper and the greater part of the Lower city, and

John of Gischala, who occupied the outer part of the Temple. He

describes the situation rhetorically as "sedition begetting sedition,

like a wild beast gone mad, which, for want of other food, falls to

eating its own flesh." And he bursts into an apostrophe over the

fighting that went on within the Temple precincts:

"Most wretched city! What misery so great as this didst thou suffer from

the Romans, when they came to purify thee from thy internecine hatred!

Thou couldst no longer be a fit habitation for God, nor couldst thou

continue longer in being, after thou hadst been a sepulcher for the

corpses of thine own people, and thy holy house itself had been a burial

place in their civil strife."

[Footnote 1: Hist. v. 13. Gens superstitioni prona, religioni obnoxia.]

It is curious that a little later, when he resumes the narrative of the

Roman campaign, and returns presumably to a Roman source, he says that

the Jews, elated by their unexpected success, made incursions on the

Greek cities. The success referred to must be the defeat of Cestius

Gallus, and it looks as if this lurid account of the horrors of the

civil war in Jerusalem were not known to the Roman guide, and that at

the least Josephus has embroidered the story of the feud to suit his

thesis. The measure of the Jewish writer's dependence for the main part

of his narrative of the siege is singularly illustrated by a small

detail. Josephus throughout his account uses the Macedonian names of the

months, and equates them loosely with those of the Jewish calendar; but

it is notable that the three traditional Jewish dates in the siege which

he inserts, the fourteenth of Xanthicus (Nisan), when it began, the

seventeenth of Panemos (Tammuz), when the daily offering ceased, and the

ninth and tenth of Loos (Ab), when the Temple was destroyed, conflict

with the other dates he gives in his general account of the siege. So

far from being a proof of his independence, as has been claimed, his

Jewish dates show his want of skill in weaving his Jewish information

into his scheme. When he is original, he is apt to be unhistorical.

Josephus agrees with the Talmud that the fire lasted to the tenth of the

month,[1] but while the Rabbis cursed Titus, who burnt the Holy of

Holies and spread fire and slaughter, and Roman historians[2] declared

that Titus had deliberately fired the center of the Jewish cult in order

to destroy the national stronghold, Josephus is anxious to preserve his

patron's reputation for gentleness and invest him with the appearance of

piety and magnanimity. Voicing perhaps the conqueror's later regrets, he

declares that he protested against the Romans' avenging themselves on

inanimate things and against the destruction of so beautiful a work, but

failed despite all his efforts to stay the conflagration. The historian

writes a lurid description of the catastrophe, but he omits the simple

details that make the account in the Talmud so pathetic. "The Temple,"

runs the Talmudic account[3] "was destroyed on the eve of the ninth day

of Ab at the outgoing of Sabbath, at the end of the Sabbatic year; and

the watch of Jehoiarib was on service, and the Levites were chanting the

hymns and standing at their desks. And the hymn they chanted was, 'And

He shall bring upon them their own iniquity, and shall cut them off with

their own wickedness' (Ps. 94:23); and they could not finish to say,

'The Lord our God shall cut them off,' when the heathen came and

silenced them." This account may not be historically true, but it

represents the unquenchable spirit of Judaism in face of the disaster.

[Footnote 1: Comp. Yer. Taanit, iv. 6.]

[Footnote 2: Comp. Sulpicius Severus, who used Tacitus (Chron. I. xxx.

6.); and the poet Valerius Flaccus acclaims the victor of Solymae, who

hurls fiery torches at the Temple. Dion Cassius (lxvi. 4.) declares that

when the Roman soldiers refused to attack the Temple in awe of its

holiness, Titus himself set fire to it; and this appears to be the true

account.]

[Footnote 3: Taanit, 29a.]

Josephus, on the other hand, regards the fall of the Temple as a

favorable opportunity to give a list of the prodigies and omens that

heralded it. For example, he finds a proof of Providence in the

fulfilment of the oracle, that the city and the holy house should be

taken when the Temple should become foursquare. By demolishing the tower

of Antonia the Jews had made the Temple area foursquare, and so brought

the doom upon themselves. He tells, too, the story of a prophet Jesus,

who for years had cried, "Woe, woe to Jerusalem," and in the end, struck

by a missile, fell, crying, "Woe, woe to me!" For any reflections,

however, on the immortality of the religion or for any utterances of

hope for the ultimate restoration of the Temple and the coming of the

Messiah, we must not look to the _Wars_. Such ideas would not have

pleased his patrons, had he entertained them himself. He pointed to the

fulfilment of prophecy only so far as it predicted and justified the

destruction and ruin of his people. The expression of the national agony

at the destruction of the national center is to be found in the

apocryphal book of Esdras II.

Over his account of the final acts of the tragedy we may pass quickly.

Undismayed by the fall of the sanctuary and still hoping for divine

intervention, John and Simon withdrew from the Temple to the upper city.

Driven from this, they took refuge in the underground caverns and caves

to be found everywhere beneath Jerusalem, and finally they stood their

ground in the towers, until these too were captured, a month after the

destruction of the Temple, on the eighth of Elul (Gorpiaeus, as the

Greek month was called).

"It was the fifth time that the city was captured; and 2179 years passed

between its first building and its last destruction. Yet neither its

great antiquity, nor its vast riches, nor the diffusion of the nation

over the whole earth, nor the greatness of the veneration paid to it on

religious grounds, was sufficient to preserve it from destruction. And

thus ended the siege of Jerusalem."

Though the war was not finished, the crisis of the drama was over, and

Josephus, doubtless following his source, relaxes the narrative to

digress about affairs in Rome and the East. The last book of the _Wars_

is episodic and disconnected. It is a kind of aftermath, in which the

historian gathers up scattered records, but does not preserve the

dramatic character of the history. He had apparently here to fall back

on his own feeble constructive power, and was hard put to it to eke out

his material to the proportions of a book.

So careless, too, is he that he abstracts references from his source

that are meaningless. In the excursion into general history, he refers

to "the German king Alaric, whom we have mentioned before,"[1] though he

is brought in for the first time; and in the account of the siege of the

Zealots' fortress Machaerus he records the death of one "Judas whom we

have mentioned before,"[2] though again there was no previous mention of

the warrior. In the same chapter he describes some magical plant,

"Baaras, possessing power to drive away demons, which are no other than

the spirits of the wicked that enter into living men and kill them,

unless they obtain some help against them." This apparently was a

commonplace of Palestinian natural science, as known to the Greco-Roman

world, and Josephus simply copied it.

[Footnote 1: B.J. VII. iv. 4.]

[Footnote 2: B.J. VII. vi. 4.]

The Zealots still maintained resistance in remote parts of the country,

and the legate Bassus was sent to take their three fortresses. He died

before the capture of Masada, the last stronghold, a natural fastness

overlooking the Dead Sea, which had been fortified by Herod. In this

region David and centuries later the Maccabean heroes had found a refuge

at their time of distress, and here the Jewish people were to show that

desperate heroism of their race which is evoked when all save honor is

lost. Masada had been occupied by Eleazar, a grandson of Judas of

Galilee, the leader of the most fanatical section of the Zealots; and it

fell to the procurator Flavius Silva to reduce it.

Josephus utters a final outburst against the hated nationalist party and

especially its two leaders, Simon of Gioras and John of Gischala, though

both had become victims of Roman revenge. "That was a time," he

exclaims, "most prolific in wicked practices, nor could anyone devise

any new evil, so deeply were they infected, striving with each other

individually and collectively who should run to the greatest lengths of

impiety towards God and in unjust actions towards their neighbors." The

more incongruous is it that after this invective he puts into Eleazar's

mouth two long speeches, calling on his men to kill themselves rather

than fall into the hands of the Romans, which sum up eloquently the

Zealot attitude.[1] Josephus indeed introduces in the speech the

Hellenized doctrine of immortality, which regards the soul as an

invisible spirit imprisoned in the mortal body and seeking relief from

its prison. He goes on, however, to make the Jewish commander point out

how preferable is death to life servitude to the Romans, in a way in

which Eleazar might himself have spoken.

[Footnote 1: B.J. VII. viii.]

"'And as for those who have died in the war, we should deem them

blessed, for they are dead in defending, and not in betraying, their

liberty: but as to the multitude of those that have submitted to the

Romans, who would not pity their condition? And who would not make haste

to die before he would suffer the same miseries? Where is now that great

city, the metropolis of the Jewish nation, which was fortified by so

many walls round about, which had so many fortresses and large towers to

defend it, which could hardly contain the instruments prepared for the

war, and which had so many myriads of men to fight for it? Where is this

city that God Himself inhabited? It is now demolished to the very

foundations; and hath nothing but that monument of it preserved, I mean

the camp of those that have destroyed it, which still dwells upon its

ruins; some unfortunate old men also lie upon the ashes of the Temple,

and a few women are there preserved alive by the enemy for our bitter

shame and reproach. Now, who is there that revolves these things in his

mind, and yet is able to bear the sight of the sun, though he might live

out of danger? Who is there so much his country's enemy, or so unmanly

and so desirous of living, as not to repent that he is still alive? And

I cannot but wish that we had all died before we had seen that holy city

demolished by the hands of our enemies, or the foundations of our holy

Temple dug up after so profane a manner. But since we had a generous

hope that deluded us, as if we might perhaps have been able to avenge

ourselves on our enemies, on that account, though it be now become

vanity, and hath left us alone in this distress, let us make haste to

die bravely. Let us pity ourselves, our children, and our wives, while

it is in our power to show pity to them; for we are born to die, as well

as those whom we have begotten; nor is it in the power of the most happy

of our race to avoid it. But for abuses and slavery and the sight of our

wives led away after an ignominious manner with their children, these

are not such evils as are natural and necessary among men; although such

as do not prefer death before those miseries, when it is in their power

to do so, must undergo even them on account of their own cowardice.'

"Responding to their leader's call, the defenders put their wives and

children to the sword, and then turned their hands on themselves: and

when the Romans entered the place, to their amazement and horror they

found not a living soul."

Eleazar's speech is one of the few patriotic outbursts in the seven

books of the Wars, and it reads like a cry of bitter regret wrung from

the unhappy author at the end of his work. Like Balaam he set out to

curse, and stayed to bless, his enemies, and cursed himself. Perhaps

this apostrophe hides the tragedy of Josephus' life. Perhaps he inwardly

repented of his cowardice, and rued the uneasy protection he had secured

for himself. Perhaps he had denounced the Zealots throughout the history

perforce, to please his taskmasters, and in his heart of hearts envied

the party that had preferred death to surrender. We could wish he had

ended with the story of Masada's noble fall, and left us at this

pathetic doubt. But he had not the dramatic sense, and he rounds off the

story of the wars with an account of the futile Jewish rising in

Alexandria and Cyrene, fomented by the surviving remnants of the

Zealots. The first led to the closing in Egypt of the Temple of Onias,

the last sanctuary of the Jews; the second to slanderous attacks on the

historian. Jonathan, who had stirred up the Cyrenaic rising and started

the slanders, was tortured and burnt alive. As to Catullus, the Roman

governor, who admitted the calumnies, though the Emperor spared him, he

fell into a terrible distemper and died miserably. "Thus he became a

signal instance of Divine Providence, and demonstrated that God punishes

the wicked."

Instead of concluding upon some national reflection, Josephus,

pathetically enough, disfigures the end of his work with a final

revelation of personal vanity and materialistic views of a Providence

intervening on his behalf. Egoism and incapacity to attain to the noble

and sublime either in action or thought were the two defects that

lowered Josephus as a man, and which mar him as an historian. In the

last paragraph of the work he insists that he has aimed alone at

agreement with the facts; but industrious as is the record of events,

the claim is shallow. His history of the Jewish wars lacks authority

because it is palpably designed to please the Roman taste, and because

also it has to serve as a personal apology for one who, when heroism was

called for, had failed to respond to the call, and who was thus rendered

incapable in letters as in life of being a faithful champion of his

people.

VI

JOSEPHUS AND THE BIBLE

In the preface to the _Antiquities_ Josephus draws a distinction between

his motives for the composition of that work and of the _Wars_. He wrote

the latter because he himself had played a large part in the war, and he

desired to correct the errors of other historians, who had perverted the

truth. On the other hand, he undertook to write the earlier history of

his people because of the great importance of the events themselves and

of his desire to reveal for the common benefit things that were buried

in ignorance. He was stimulated to the task by the fact that his

forefathers had been willing to communicate their antiquity to the

Greeks, and, moreover, several of the Greeks had been at pains to learn

of the affairs of the Jewish nation.

Josephus · 第 7 / 15 段