For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem

Muttering threats below their breath, the soldiers sullenly withdrew. An hour later, one of the inhabitants ran in to inform John that a large body of men were coming down from the upper city. John immediately called his men to arms and, at their head, took up his position at the end of the street.

Ere long, a crowd of soldiers were seen approaching. At their head strode one whom John at once guessed to be Simon, himself. When he arrived within ten paces Simon stopped, surprised at the compact order and resolute appearance of the band which filled the street.

"Who are you?" he asked John, imperiously.

"My name is John, and I am generally called John of Gamala, although that is not my birthplace."

Simon uttered an exclamation of astonishment; for the tales of John's attack upon the Roman camp at Gamala, and of his subsequent actions against the Romans, were well known in Jerusalem.

"You are but a lad," Simon said, contemptuously, "and John of Gamala must be a warrior!"

"I am John of Gamala," John repeated, quietly, "and these men are part of my band. We have come down to defend Jerusalem, since there is no more to be done in the open country. We wish to interfere with none, to take part with no faction, but simply to defend the city. We war with the Romans, and not with Jews. We assault no one, but woe be to him who assaults us! Here are six hundred of us, each man ready to die; and though you have twenty men to one, yet will we withstand you, if you meddle with us.

"By tonight, the Romans will be outside the walls. Is this the time that Jews should fall upon each other, like wild beasts?"

Simon hesitated. The idea of opposition excited him, as usual, to fury but, upon the other hand, he saw that this determined body were not to be overcome, save with great loss, and he wanted his men for his struggles with the Zealots.

"You are not in correspondence with John of Gischala?" he asked, doubtfully.

"I am in correspondence with none," John said. "As I have told you, we come only to fight for Jerusalem; and will take no part, on one side or other, in your dissensions. We have taken up this street, between this gate and the Corner Gate, and this street we will hold."

Simon still hesitated. He saw that, round this nucleus of determined men, the whole of the citizens of the lower town might gather; and that he might be forced to confine himself to the upper town. This, however, would be of no great importance, now. The inner, lower town was the poor quarter of Jerusalem. Here dwelt the artisans and mechanics, in the narrow and tortuous lanes; while the wealthier classes resided either in the upper town, where stood the palaces of the great; or in the new town, between the second and third walls.

The new town had, indeed, until lately been a suburb outside the walls. Agrippa had begun the third wall–which was to inclose this–and, had he been allowed to build it according to his design, he would have made Jerusalem absolutely impregnable, save by famine; but the authorities at Rome, knowing how turbulent were the population of Jerusalem, and foreseeing that at some time they might have to lay siege to the city, had forbidden its construction; and the new wall had been hastily erected by the Jews, themselves, after they had risen and defeated Cestius, four years before. This wall inclosed a vast number of villas, with gardens and open spaces, now thickly tenanted by the temporary habitations of the fugitives and pilgrims.

The lower town, then, contained but little to tempt the cupidity of Simon's troops. Its houses had, indeed, been ransacked over and over again; and Simon reflected that, even should his men be prevented from descending into it, it would matter but little while, as it was separated from the upper town by the Tyropoeon Valley, and the first wall, no rising there could be a formidable danger to him. Still, it galled him to be resisted and, had it not been that the Romans were close at hand, he would at once have given his men orders to attack the strangers.

He stood for some minutes, stroking his beard, and then said:

"I will give you no answer, now. I will think over what you say, till tomorrow, then we will talk again."

"I doubt not what your decision will be," John said. "You are a brave man, Simon; and although you have done much harm to the Jews, yet I know that you will defend Jerusalem, to the end, against the Romans. You need feel no jealousy of me. I aspire to no leadership, or power. I am here only to fight, and six hundred such men as mine are not to be despised in the day of trial. Should the Romans march away, baffled, before the walls, I, too, shall leave; and you, who remain, can resume your mad struggles, if you will. But I think that, in the presence of the enemy, all strife within the city should cease; and that we should be as one man, in the face of the Romans."

Simon looked with surprise, and some admiration, at the young man who so boldly addressed him. Savage and cruel as he was, Simon was a man of the greatest bravery. He had none of the duplicity and treachery which characterized John of Gischala, but was straightforward and, in his way, honest. As only his picture has come down to us, as described by the pen of Josephus who, at the time of his writing his history, had become thoroughly a Roman, and who elevated Titus and his troops at the expense of his own countrymen, great allowance must be made for the dark colors in which he is painted. The fact that he was regarded with affection and devotion by his troops, who were willing to go to certain death at his orders, shows that at least there must have been many good qualities in him; and history records no instance of more desperate and sustained bravery than he exhibited in defense of Jerusalem.

The frankness of John's speech, instead of angering him, pleased him much.

"Enough," he said. "I need no further time to reflect. A man who had thought of treachery would not speak so boldly, and fearlessly, as you do. Let us be friends.

"I have often wondered what sort of man was the John of Gamala of whom I have heard so much, and who has so long kept the field against the Romans; and although I wonder greatly at seeing you so young a man, yet I rejoice that so valiant a fighter should be here, to aid us in the struggle. Here is my hand, in token of amity."

John took the hand held out to him, and a shout of satisfaction rose from the armed men on either side–the followers of John being rejoiced that they would not be called upon to engage in civil strife, those of Simon well satisfied that they were not to be called upon to attack a body of men who looked such formidable antagonists.

Just at this moment, a man rode in at the gate, saying that the Romans were but two miles distant, and would speedily make their appearance over the Hill of Scopus. Simon ordered a party of his men to proceed at once to Damascus Gate, and to close it as soon as the Romans were visible. Then he turned again to John.

"Come up with me," he said, "to the Palace of Herod. From its summit, we can see the enemy approaching."

Giving orders to his men to lay aside their arms, and calling Jonas to accompany him, John without hesitation turned to accompany Simon. The latter had hardly expected him to accept his invitation, and the readiness with which he did so at once pleased and gratified him. It was a proof of fearlessness, and a testimony to John's belief in his faith and honor. John of Gischala, treacherous himself, would not have placed himself in his power, whatever the guarantee he gave for his safety; while he himself would not have confided himself to John of Gischala, though the latter had sworn to his safety with his hand on the altar.

John, himself, was struck with the rugged grandeur of Simon's appearance. He was far above the stature of ordinary men, and of immense strength; and there was, nevertheless, an ease and lightness in his carriage which showed that he was no less active than strong. His face was leonine in expression. His long hair fell back from his forehead, his eyebrows were heavy, his eyes were gray and clear; with a fierce and savage expression when his brows met in a frown, and his lips were firmly set; but at other times frank, open, and straightforward in their look. The mouth was set and determined, without being hard; and a pleasant smile, at times, lit up his features. He was a man capable of strong affections, and generous impulses.

He was cruel, at times; but it was an age of cruelty; and Titus himself, who is held up as a magnanimous general, was guilty of far more hideous cruelties than any committed by Simon. Had the latter been master of Jerusalem from the first, and had not the granaries been destroyed in the civil war, the legions of Titus would never have achieved the conquest of the city.

Ascending the steep slope of the valley, they passed through the gate in the first wall and, turning to the right, entered the Palace of Herod, which was at once a royal dwelling, and a fortress of tremendous strength. Much as John's thoughts were otherwise occupied, he could not help being struck by the magnificence and splendor of this noble building; but he said nothing as Simon strode along through the forum, passed out beyond the palace itself, entered the strong and lofty tower of Phasaelus, and ascended to its summit.

An involuntary exclamation burst from John, as he gained the platform. From the point on which he stood, he commanded a view of the whole city, and of the country round. Far below, at his feet, lay the crowded streets of the inner town; between which and the outer wall the ground was thickly occupied by houses of the better class, standing half-embowered in trees. Close beside him rose the stately towers of Hippicus and Mariamne. Behind him was the Palace of Herod, standing on the ground once occupied by the Castle of David. On the east the Palace of Agrippa partly obscured the view of the Temple; but a portion of the building could be seen, standing on its platform on the summit of Mount Moriah. To its left, and connected with it by two lines of cloisters, was the castle of Antonia while, still further along, was the fort known as Acra. Behind the Palace of Herod, and its superb gardens, were scattered the palaces and mansions of the wealthy Jews and strangers which, with their gardens, occupied the whole of the upper part of Mount Zion. On the lower slope of Mount Moriah, lying between the Valley of Jehoshaphat and that of the Tyropoeon, was a densely-populated suburb known as the New Town. Westward, beyond the Tower of Hippicus, lay the valley of Hinnom, with the Dragon Pool glistening in the sun while, at a distance of four or five miles, to the southward could be seen the village of Bethlehem. The whole country outside the walls was a garden, with countless villas, mansions, and groves of trees.

For some minutes, John looked round in admiration of the scene, while Simon stood with his eyes fixed upon the road crossing Mount Scopus. Suddenly he uttered an exclamation, and John joined him, and looked in the direction in which he was gazing. The white line of the road was darkened by a moving mass, sparkling as the sun shone on arms and armor.

"They come, at last," Simon said and, as he spoke, cries of wailing and lamentation were heard from the walls, far below them.

The four years that had elapsed, since danger first threatened Jerusalem, had deepened the impression in the minds of the Jews that the enemy would not be permitted to approach the Holy City. It was true that their faith had been sorely shaken, by many strange prodigies. A strange light had shone about the altar and the Temple, and it was said that voices had been heard from the Holy of Holies, saying, "Let us depart hence." The Beautiful Gate of the Temple, which required the strength of twenty men to close it, had opened of its own accord. War chariots and armies had been seen contending in the clouds; and for months a great comet, in shape like a flaming sword, had hung over the city. Still men had hoped, and the cry from the watchers that the Roman army was in sight struck dismay among the inhabitants. There were still many without the walls. Some of these rushed wildly into the gates, and entered the city; while the wiser fled away to the hills, and made their way to their homes.

Titus, as he reached the brow of Mount Scopus, reined in his horse and looked for some time, in silence, at the great and magnificent city which extended before him; and there can be little doubt that he would fain have spared it, had it been possible. Even a Roman could not gaze on the massive beauty of the Temple, unmoved. It was the most famous religious edifice in the world. From all parts, pilgrims flocked to it; and kings made offerings to it. It was believed by the Jews to be the special seat of their deity; and the Romans, partly from policy, partly from superstition, paid respect and reverence to the gods of all the nations they subdued, and annual offerings had been sent by Rome to the Temple.

Titus may well have wished to spare the city the ruin and misery of a siege, to preserve the Temple intact, and to hand over to King Agrippa, uninjured, his palace and capital. In all the wide dominions of Rome, there was not a city which approached Jerusalem in beauty and grandeur; and Titus must have felt that whatever honor would accrue to him, from its conquest, would be dearly purchased by the linking of his name, to all time, as the destroyer of so magnificent a city. Similar emotions were felt by the group of officers who rode with Titus, and who reined up their horses as he did so. With them, the military point of view was doubtless the most prominent; and as they saw, from their lofty vantage ground, how the deep valleys of Hinnom and Jehoshaphat girt the city in on either side, and how stately and strong were the walls and towers, they may well have felt how mighty was the task which they had before them.

The scene was calm and peaceful. No sound of warlike trumpets came from the walls, no signs of an enemy appeared without; and Titus rode on, past the deserted villas and beautiful grounds that bordered the road, until he neared the Damascus Gate. He was accompanied by six hundred horse, for the legions had encamped in the Valley of Thorns, near the village of Gaboth Saul, some four miles from Jerusalem.

The walls appeared deserted; but Titus, having experience of the desperate courage of the Jews, paused at some little distance from the gate and, turning to the right, entered a lane which ran parallel to the wall, and made his way towards the Tower of Psephinus–or the Rubble Tower–at the north-eastern angle of the outer wall. Suddenly, a gate near the Tower of the Women was thrown open, and a crowd of armed men dashed out. Rushing forward at the top of their speed, some threw themselves across the road which Titus was following; but most of them rushed in behind him, cutting him off from the main body of his cavalry, and leaving him isolated with but a few followers.

The main body of Roman cavalry, furiously assailed, and ignorant that Titus was cut off from them, turned and fled. Titus hesitated a moment. In front of him was an unknown country. He knew not whither the lane he was following led. Hedges rose on either side and, even did he burst through the crowd in front of him, he might be overwhelmed by missiles, as he rode on. Therefore, calling upon his men to follow him, he turned round and dashed into the crowd which barred his retreat.

He wore neither helmet nor breastplate for, as he had only advanced to reconnoiter, and with no thought of fighting, these had been left behind. Yet, though javelins flew around him in showers, and arrows whizzed close to him, not one touched him as he struck, right and left, among those who barred his passage; while his warhorse, excited by the shouts and tumult, trampled them under his feet.

In vain the Jews, astonished at his bravery, and still more so at his immunity from harm amid the shower of missiles, strove to seize him. He and his little band cut his way onward, those in front drawing back with almost superstitious fear from his attack. Two, only, of his followers were slain. One fell, pierced with numerous javelins. Another was pulled from his horse and killed but, with the rest, he emerged unharmed from among his assailants, and reached his camp in safety.

The soldiers of Simon–for it was his men who guarded this part of the wall–returned with mingled feelings. They were triumphant that they had caused the son of Caesar, himself, to fly before them. They were humiliated that so great a prize should have escaped them, when he seemed in their hands; and they had a superstitious feeling that he had been divinely protected from their assaults.

From their lookout, Simon and John had seen the Roman cavalry turn off from the Damascus road into the lane, and had then lost sight of them. Then they heard the sudden din of battle, and the shouts of the combatants, and saw the Roman cavalry riding off in full speed; but the clamor had continued and, in a short time, another little party of horsemen were seen to issue from the lane, and follow their companions.

Simon laughed, grimly.

"We have taught the Romans, early, that the wasps have stings and that, if they think they are going to take the nest without trouble, they will be mistaken.

"And now, John, what do you advise? You were, they say, at Jotapata and Gamala; and you have since shown how well you understand the Roman tactics. I am a soldier, with an arm to strike but, so far, I have not had experience in the Roman tactics at sieges. Tell me, what would you do first, were you commander of this city?"

"There is no doubt what is the first thing to be done," John said. "It is the duty of all within this city to lay aside their feuds, and unite in her defense. It is for you, as the strongest, to make the first advance; and to send at once to John and Eleazar to propose that, so long as the Romans are before the city, there shall be a truce between you; and to arrange which part of the walls shall be held by the soldiers of each. You must also arrange to unite for common action, both in the defense and in attacking them without the walls; for it is only by disturbing them at their work, and by hindering them as they bring forward their engines of war, that you can hope to hold the city. Strong as your walls may be, they will crumble to ruins when the battering rams once begin their work against them."

Simon was silent for a minute, then he said:

"Your advice is good. I will send at once to John and Eleazar, and ask them to meet me on the bridge across the Tyropoeon, which separates our forces."

The sun was already setting, but the distance was short. Simon advanced to the bridge and, hailing the Zealots on the other side, said that he desired an interview with John, in reference to the defense of the city; and that he pledged his solemn oath that no harm should come to him. He sent a similar message to Eleazar. John shortly appeared for, from the summit of Antonia, he too had watched the advancing Romans, and felt the necessity for common action for defense of the town.

Eleazar refused to come. He would have trusted Simon, but to reach the meeting place he would have had to pass through the outer courts of the Temple held by John, and he knew that no confidence could be reposed in any oath that the latter might take. He sent word, however, that he was willing to abstain from all hostilities, and to make common cause with the others for the defense of the city.

John of Gischala advanced alone on to the bridge, a wide and stately edifice carried on lofty arches across the Tyropoeon valley, from a point near the Palace of Agrippa to the platform of the Temple.