THE PRELIMINARIES OF A GREAT SIEGE
It was the spring of the year A.D. 70, nearly nine months after the
elevation of Vespasian to the imperial throne, and still the Roman
legions, now under the sole command of Titus, tarried in their
encampment at Cæsarea-by-the-sea.
The self-confident Zealots of Jerusalem began to doubt whether the
enemy ever _would_ come within sight of the city again.
In the intervals of their internecine warfare they were much interested
in watching the progress of a new planet or comet, fiery red in color.
It first appeared in Pisces, the constellation which, in the astral
lore of that age, was supposed to be connected with the fortunes of
Judæa. Night after night it mounted higher, and ever higher, in the
sky, seeming to be making for a point directly above the holy city.
At the very first sight of it the multitude had cried with one voice,
“_The star of the Messiah!_” Ere long it became so distinct and bright
as to be plainly discernible in the daytime, and crowds gathered
at street corners to stare at what they devoutly believed to be a
heaven-sent sign.
The glorious day foretold by the prophets was at hand when the Jews,
with the assistance of the heavenly powers, should reign supreme over
all the nations of the earth. And when the star, growing more plain,
was seen to take the shape of a sword[24] with its blade pointing in
the direction of the Roman Camp at Cæsarea, who could doubt that it
portended the doom of those who were threatening the holy city?
“There shall come a star out of Jacob, and a scepter shall rise out of
Israel.”
Such was the text upon which Rabbi Simeon ben Gamaliel proposed to
give a midrash or sermon, an announcement that attracted to the Royal
Synagogue a congregation larger than any previously seen within its
walls.
Devout joy was at first the prevailing keynote of the assembly; but,
after the preliminary prayers, a strange uneasiness fell upon them
when it was discovered that the prescribed parashoth or lesson for
the day--and there could be no omitting it!--was that section of the
Pentateuch containing the solemn and thrilling words addressed to the
nation by the great Hebrew lawgiver on the eve of his death.
As the chazan began his reading the sunlight without became clouded,
and a gloom pervaded the edifice, a gloom that seemed to deepen with
each successive moment.
It was, of course, customary to receive the reading of the Law in
reverential silence, but a silence so tense as the present had never
been known in this synagogue. With bated breath and with eyes fastened
on the chazan’s face they listened to the voice of the divine lawgiver
sounding down to them through the corridors of time.
“The LORD shall bring a nation against thee from far, from the end of
the earth, as swift as the eagle flieth; a nation whose tongue thou
shalt not understand. A nation of fierce countenance, which shall not
regard the person of the old, nor show favor to the young.... And he
shall besiege thee in all thy gates, until thy high and fenced walls
come down, wherein thou trustedst.... And thou shalt eat the fruit of
thine own body, the flesh of thy sons and of thy daughters, in the
siege and in the straitness, wherewith thine enemies shall distress
thee.... In the morning thou shalt say, Would God it were even! and at
even thou shalt say, Would God it were morning! for the fear of thine
heart wherewith thou shalt fear, and for the sight of thine eyes which
thou shalt see.”
At this point the assembly, hitherto as motionless and as silent as the
dead, impulsively started to their feet, with fear stamped upon their
faces.
It was not, however, the words of the Law, awful though they were, that
had moved the worshipers, but a tumult coming from the streets in the
vicinity of the synagogue.
During the previous few moments the air had resounded with the running
of feet intermingled with the sound of voices.
Those voices, confused at first, had now become clearly audible.
Rolling upward to the skies in accents of surprise and fear there
pealed again and again the startling cry:
“THE ROMANS! THE ROMANS!”
The sight of the Roman vanguard, glittering upon the northern
heights of Scopus, though it might put fear into the hearts of the
common people, served only to evoke the scorn of the Zealots. Their
astonishing victory over Cestius, and the fact that for three years
no attempt had been made to recover the city, had given them an
exaggerated notion of their own prowess.
The Zealots of Galilee might yield; those of Jerusalem were invincible!
“They are the same sheep,” scoffed Simon, “but with a new shepherd.”
For a long time the Zealots and the people, massed upon the northern
wall of the city, continued to watch the distant host, who seemed to be
occupied in forming an encampment. Suddenly a shout arose. Something
was seen to separate itself from the common body, and to move forward
quickly towards the city amid a cloud of dust. That something on a
nearer approach proved to be a detachment of cavalry, six hundred
strong, led by Titus in person, who, coming not to fight but merely to
reconnoiter, rode bareheaded, having left both helmet and breastplate
behind. By his side rode that Jewish apostate, Tiberius Alexander,
who, having at one time been procurator of Judæa, was in a position to
explain to Titus the topography of the city.
A sea of faces glared at them along the whole extent of the northern
wall; the battlements of Antonia, the porticoes of the temple, the
distant ramparts of Mount Zion were similarly crowded; in all the wide
city there was neither wall nor tower, neither roof nor window, but
showed a cluster of human beings. Their excited cries blending together
came to the ears of Titus like the restless murmur of the sea.
“How many people doth the city hold, think you?” he asked of Alexander.
“My spies report the number to be a million--yea, and a hundred
thousand beyond that. ’Tis the eve of the passover, and Jews from every
province of the empire have come up to worship.”
“A million? Ye gods! Has this nation appointed a rendezvous for its own
destruction? But as to the fighting men?”
“All will fight, even children, if it be to defend their city and
their religion. The women and girls will weave their hair into ropes,
if ropes be needed. The priests themselves will arm should the war
approach the temple.”
“Little care I for such foes. My concern is with those who have any
knowledge of actual warfare.”
“Why, as to that, Eleazar guards the holy house with 2,400 Zealots;
John, your old opponent in Galilee, keeps the cloisters with 6,000. But
Simon, who holds Mount Zion, is the man to be feared. He hath 15,000
fierce spirits, so fanatically devoted to him, that each would fall on
his own sword did he but command it.”
“Twenty-three thousand fighting men? Well, we have more than double
that number with us.”
“Your number may be tenfold theirs, but such superiority avails
nothing in view of their impregnable position.--As you see, O Cæsar,”
he continued, pointing first to the city, and then to a map that he
carried, a map drawn by the hand of Josephus, “Jerusalem occupies the
southern tongue of a rocky plateau; on the east, on the west, on the
south, its walls look down upon ravines and valleys whose slopes are
too steep to be scaled by an army; it is from this quarter only that
the attack can be made.”
Titus recognized the fact at a glance. The city, the real city--namely,
the stronghold of Zion--was assailable only from the north, but the way
to it was barred by huge ramparts.
Three gigantic lines of masonry were drawn east and west across the
plateau.
First, there was the wall directly facing them, called by the Jews the
Third Wall, as being the latest built.
This, when breached or surmounted, opened the way into the northern
suburb of Bezetha or New-town. Marching through Bezetha, the Romans
would come to the Second or Middle Wall, which, when taken, would admit
them to Acra or the Lower City; passing through Acra, they would find
themselves staring helplessly up at the scarped cliff of Mount Zion or
the Upper City, whose edge was surmounted by a wall so lofty that the
Titans themselves might have despaired of scaling it.
But ere any attempt could be made upon Zion, it would be necessary
first to take the towering rock-citadel of Antonia, and, secondly, the
lofty temple-fortress, otherwise while besieging Zion they would be
continually exposed to a flank attack from these two strongholds.
“You have to deal,” said Tiberius Alexander, “not with one city, but
with five cities. A fivefold siege lies before us.”
As Titus glanced with the eye of a trained soldier from point to point,
and took in the nature of the defenses, natural and artificial, he
began to realize the stupendous nature of the task imposed upon him.
Haughtily enthroned upon its mountain-rock, this Oriental city with its
girdling _enceinte_ of walls, towers and bastions, seemed as if built
with set purpose to triumph over every device that could be brought
against it by the military science of the West.
There was no doubt about it: it was THE STRONGEST CITY IN THE WORLD,
and if adequately provisioned, and defended with due care, was
absolutely impregnable.
“And I have wagered Mucianus,” said Titus grimly, “that I’ll take it
within seven weeks.”
Alexander gravely shook his head.
“Twice seven weeks will pass--yea, and three times seven weeks--ere the
eagles fly over Zion.”
In the midst of this reconnoitering, a gate by the Women’s Tower
opened, and the Zealots poured forth in such numbers that the little
Roman band, after holding their ground for a time, deemed it prudent to
beat a retreat.
Great was the delight of the Jews. Cæsar himself had been seen to fly!
It was the promise and presage of more glorious victories.
Early next day the Roman army advanced to within a mile of the northern
wall of the city, and there began the construction of two huge camps.
The forces of Titus consisted of four legions, the fifth or
_Macedonia_, the tenth or _Fretensis_, the twelfth or _Fulminata_
(memorable for its flight under Cestius), and the fifteenth or
_Apollinaris_.
In imperial times the legion usually consisted of 6,000 men, all
Roman citizens, none other being admitted to its proud ranks; but as
each legion was always accompanied by an equal number of auxiliaries,
levied from the subject nations, together with 300 cavalry; and as
several petty kings of the East (including Agrippa) had joined in the
expedition, each bringing with him his own little army, the forces
arrayed against Jerusalem must be stated at a figure considerably in
excess of 50,000.
Flashing in the morning sunlight, the various squadrons of this vast
host, horse and foot, heavy-armed and light-armed, deployed into
never-ending lines upon the brow of Olivet and upon the descent of
Scopus; and as the Jews gazed from their walls upon the long array of
eagles and standards bearing the letters S.P.Q.R., they realized the
full meaning of the expression “terrible as an army with banners.”
As the battering-rams and other ponderous machines used in sieging
were mounted upon wheels, whose revolution required a comparatively
even surface, the first work of the legionaries, after forming their
camp, was to level the ground between their lines and the foot of the
northern wall.
This fore-suburb, ere the Roman engineers set to work, was a scene of
sylvan beauty, consisting of groves and watercourses, gardens and fair
mansions.
Now all was ruthlessly swept away: the trees fell before the ax; the
watercourses were destroyed; the houses demolished; even the deep and
shady glens were no more, being filled up with the picturesque crags
that were wont to overshadow them.
While some of the troops labored at the rocky ground with iron
instruments, others were employed in bringing up from the valley of
Cedron countless baskets laden with pebbles and earth; these were used
in filling up the inequalities of the surface, the soldiers stamping
the materials firmly with their feet.
In spite of a cloud of missiles discharged at them from the ramparts,
in spite of the sudden and daring sallies made by Simon and his men,
the Romans contrived, in the course of a few days, to transform the
picturesque fore-suburb into a dreary, uniform level.
While the Roman operations were proceeding without, the Jews within the
city were preparing to celebrate the passover, memorable as being THE
LAST IN THEIR HISTORY as a nation; memorable, too, for the armed fray
that accompanied it.
On the fourteenth of Nisan, Eleazar and his party opened the gates
of the upper temple to admit those bringing the paschal lambs. The
cautions previously exercised by him to exclude the Zealots of the
other two factions seem to have been wanting on this occasion. Members
of John’s party, with weapons concealed beneath their garments,
contrived to enter in company with the multitude of foreign pilgrims,
and drawing together in a compact body, they suddenly flung off their
outer robes and appeared in the panoply of war. At this sight Eleazar’s
faction flew to arms, and a fierce mêlée took place around the golden
house, innocent pilgrim and guilty Zealot alike falling fast. When
the fray ended, John of Giscala was master of all the temple. Eleazar
having fallen, the survivors of his party consented to be absorbed in
that of the victor; and thus the three factions in the city were now
reduced to two, the Johanneans and the Simonians.
To these Johanneans Simon now made appeal.
Standing on the bridge that connected Mount Zion with the temple-hill,
he called for John, and when that chief appeared he thus addressed him:
“Shall a house stand that is divided against itself? Why do we fight
each other, making fine sport for the foe? We are, it seems, valiant
against ourselves only, content to let the city be taken by our love of
faction. Let us lay aside our enmity, and join in opposing the common
foe.”
“Thou art a subtle knave, Simon,” replied John. “Thou desirest me and
my forces to go with thee to the Wall of Agrippa that thy men in my
absence may seize upon the temple, for all know of thy desire to make
thyself tyrant of the city. However, I will so far assist thee that
such of my men as are so minded may go with thee, but as to myself and
certain other, we will remain behind to defend the temple.”
Availing themselves of the permission thus given, hundreds of John’s
men came forth from the temple to join with the Simonians in the
defense of the city.
The Romans, having cleared the ground from all obstructions, were
now occupied in erecting opposite the northern wall a series of
lofty banks, upon which to set the engines used in discharging
missile-weapons, for the higher the position of these engines the more
accurate and the more deadly their aim.
Each bank or agger was made of earth strengthened by beams of timber.
During the erection of these banks, the Zealots were not content to
look idly on. Preceded by a veritable rain of stones discharged from
the ramparts, they poured forth by hundreds, armed with long poles
terminating in iron hooks; with these they sought to pull apart the
beams composing the agger, with intent to bring down the whole mass.
In these sallies the Zealots came on with the rush of a whirlwind, each
man ready to sacrifice his life provided only he could kill one of the
enemy, or do but the least damage to the agger.
Not for a moment, however, could they stay the progress of the work.
The Roman guard stationed in front of the banks drove back every onset;
and at last the Jews, despairing of accomplishing their object, kept
within their walls, and sallied forth no more.
Each embankment, when finished, presented a vertical front to the
city, but the other side was inclined at a very low angle, in order
to facilitate the mounting of the military engines: and gaps were
purposely left in it to permit the passage of the battering-rams and
the movable towers.
* * * * *
The shrill réveille pealed through the Roman camp, rousing the
legionaries from their slumber.
Every man on waking turned his eyes towards the tent of Titus, and
every face gleamed with a grim satisfaction at sight of the scarlet
mantle hoisted above it, the sign that the day was to be one of battle.
As the Roman host gazed upon the holy city rising fair and stately in
the golden light of an Eastern dawn, they were fain to confess that it
was a city worth fighting for.
From its walls the tocsin of war was sounding in the shape of a
six-foot brazen gong, whose deep, sullen tone reverberated monotonously
on the morning air.
The whole northern rampart was alive with a multitude of Zealot
warriors moving to and fro, their shining armor obscured at times by
faint columns of blue smoke.
The Romans knew well what that smoke meant.
Behind those battlements burned fires, over which were slung cauldrons
hissing with scalding water, boiling pitch, and molten lead!
At sight of this smoke the Romans merely smiled; but at sight of the
military engines, disposed at due intervals along the wall, they burned
with secret rage, being reminded of their tarnished honor, for these
engines represented a triumph over Romans, having been captured, some
from the camp of Cestius, and others from the Tower of Antonia and the
Prætorium of Florus.
Moving everywhere along the ramparts, now giving an order here, and
now a caution there, was seen the form of that brawny Titan, Simon the
Black, the very soul of battle, hatred of the Roman looking out from
his wild, dark eye. Over his armor he wore a wolfskin mantle with the
shaggy side turned outwards, a mantle that suggested to his followers
the prophecy (for he came of the “little” tribe), “Benjamin shall ravin
as a wolf.”
Even those among the Romans that were most given to the despising of
Hebrew valor, were obliged to admit that in Simon they had a warrior
worthy of their steel.
It was a lovely morning, giving promise of a sultry noontide; a
dazzling sun shone from a sky of deepest blue; far away on the horizon
hung a pall of pearly white mist.
As a hush precedes the desert sandstorm, so upon the two armies there
lay a strange stillness.
It was a sublime and thrilling spectacle this, of two nations
facing each other in arms--nay, an act in a Divine drama, the true
significance of which was understood by none present, except by Crispus
and the very few that were of like faith with him. The struggle
was more than it appeared upon the surface; it was not merely the
subjugation of a revolted city, but a battle betwixt two religions; the
religions, not, as might be thought, Judaism and Paganism, but Judaism
and Christianity. The legions of Titus, though they knew it not, were
truly soldiers of the Cross, continuing the work to which they had been
divinely pre-ordained--_the work of the Church!_
For the Romans, by uniting the nations of the civilized world under one
government, by establishing a universal peace--the “_Romana pax_” that
was the just boast of their orators; by clearing the sea of corsairs,
and the land from banditti; by linking all parts of their empire with
a series of splendid roads; by diffusing among their provinces a
knowledge of the Greek language; had created conditions such as had
never before existed in the world’s history: conditions that were
absolutely essential, if the Church were to make quick progress;
conditions that enabled the evangelist, knowing one language only, to
travel in safety and preach the faith from the banks of the Euphrates
to the Pillars of Hercules.
The Roman legionaries, paradoxical as it may sound, were the coadjutors
of the apostles. They were now about to put the final touches to their
work by demolishing the temple, whose further existence was an obstacle
to the free development of Christianity; and by acting as the sword of
the Lord against those who had cried, “His blood be on us and on our
children.”
A.D. 70 was the necessary sequel of A.D. 29; and he who refuses to
see a Divine Judgment in the fall of Jerusalem has yet to learn the
elements of history.
Ignorant of the high mission assigned to him, Titus, distinguished
by a purple mantle and by the splendor of his gilded arms, had taken
up his station upon the central agger. Beside him, and clothed in a
magnificent white robe, gold-embroidered, stood Theomantes, the priest
of Jupiter Cæsarius, presiding at an altar of unhewn stones, upon which
there flamed a sacrificial ox. Titus and the Romans in the immediate
vicinity of this altar were standing bareheaded in reverential attitude.
The Zealots upon the wall, keenly attentive to this religious ceremony,
noticed that Theomantes, as he stood with his arms raised in prayer to
some deity, kept his eyes fixed throughout upon their holy temple.
A sudden suspicion fell upon them. They strained their ears in the hope
of catching his utterance, though distance might well forbid that hope.
Fortune favored them, however. A breeze blowing from the north at that
moment wafted to their ears the word--JEHOVAH!--a word so sacred that
it was seldom uttered even by the Jews themselves, and never in the
presence of a Gentile.
How came this pagan priest to know the true name of God, and why was he
praying to Him?
Then the full meaning of the scene was borne in upon them. It was the
ceremony called by the Romans the Evocation.[25] It was the custom of
that people at the beginning of a siege to invoke the tutelary deity of
the invested city, inviting him not to be made a prisoner, but to come
forth and take up his abode among the divinities of the Roman Capitol.
Without such ceremony they would be fighting against the gods--an
impious deed!
The ceremony, ludicrous or blasphemous, according as one may view it,
was at all events unnecessary on the present occasion. The tutelary
angels _had_ quitted the city, and Crispus was of those who had heard
their departing voice.
To the Jews upon the wall, the affair was as blasphemy. Jehovah was
their own peculiar heritage! That the heathen should dare pray to Him,
above all that they should call upon Him to quit the place where He had
chosen to put His name forever, was a thing not to be borne.
Calling for their most expert archer, they bade him shoot down the
impious Theomantes.
But the action was observed by the quick-eyed Rufus, who interposed his
shield between the priest and the oncoming arrow.
A moment afterwards Titus tossed his baton high in air.
At that sight--the signal for battle--there rolled down the Roman lines
a shout that seemed to shake the very towers of the city, the thrilling
war-cry of “ROMA! ROMA!” and with that each man flew to his appointed
work.
The greatest siege in the world’s history had begun!