For the Temple: A Tale of the Fall of Jerusalem

"It would be wickedness, not charity, to part with our store. It would defeat the object for which we came here, and for which we are ready to die, without any real benefit to those on whom we bestowed the food."

A general chorus of approval showed that the speaker represented the opinion of his comrades. After a pause, he went on:

"There is another reason why we should keep what we, ourselves, have brought in here. You know how the soldiers of Simon persecute the people–how they torture them to discover hidden stores of food, how they break in and rob them as they devour, in secret, the provisions they have concealed. I know not whether hunger could drive us to act likewise, but we know the lengths to which famished men can be driven. Therefore, I would that we should be spared the necessity for such cruelties, to keep life together. We are all ready to die, but let it be as strong men, facing the enemy, and slaying as we fall."

Again, the murmur of approval was heard; and John felt that it would be worse than useless to urge the point. He admitted to himself that there was reason in the argument; and that, while a distribution of their food would give the most temporary relief, only, to the multitude, it would impair the efficiency of the band. The result showed him that, implicit as was the obedience given to him in all military matters, his influence had its limits; and that, beyond a certain point, his authority ceased.

Henceforth he remained in the house, except when he went to his post on the walls immediately adjoining; and he therefore escaped being harrowed by the sight of sufferings that he could not relieve. Each day, however, he set apart the half of his own portion of grain; and gave it to the first starving woman he met, when he went out. The regulation issue of rations had now ceased. The granaries were exhausted and, henceforth, Simon's troops lived entirely upon the food they extorted from the inhabitants.

John of Gischala's followers fared better. Enormous as had been the destruction of grain, the stores in the Temple were so prodigious that they were enabled to live in comparative abundance, and so maintained their strength and fighting power.

But the sufferings of the people increased daily, and great numbers made their escape from the city–either sallying out from unguarded posterns, at night; or letting themselves down from the lower part of the walls, by ropes. Titus allowed them to pass through; but John of Gischala and Simon, with purposeless cruelty, placed guards on all the walls and gates, to prevent the starving people leaving the city–although their true policy would have been to facilitate, in every way, the escape of all save the fighting men; and thus to husband what provisions still remained for the use of the defenders of the city.

In the daytime, when the gates were open, people went out and collected vegetables and herbs from the gardens between the walls and the Roman posts; but on their return were pitilessly robbed by the rough soldiers, who confiscated to their own use all that was brought in. The efforts to escape formed a fresh pretext, to Simon and John of Gischala, to plunder the wealthy inhabitants who, under the charge of intending to fly to the Romans, were despoiled of all they had, tortured and executed.

Titus soon changed his policy and, instead of allowing the deserters to make their way through, seized them and those who went out from the city to seek food, scourged, tortured, and crucified them before the walls. Sometimes as many as five hundred were crucified in a single day. This checked the desertion; and the multitude, deeming it better to die of hunger than to be tortured to death by the Romans, resigned themselves to the misery of starvation.

For seventeen days, the Romans labored at their embankments, and only one attack was made upon the walls. This was carried out by the son of the King of Commagene, who had just joined the army with a chosen band, armed and attired in the Macedonian fashion. As soon as he arrived, he loudly expressed his surprise at the duration of the siege. Titus, hearing this, told him that he was at perfect liberty to assault the city, if he liked. This he and his men at once did, and fought with great valor; but with no success whatever, a great number of them being killed, and scarcely one escaping uninjured.

For a fortnight, John had bestowed the half of his ration upon a poor woman, whose child was sick; and who stood at the door of her house, every morning, to wait his passing. One day, she begged him to enter.

"I shall need no more food," she said. "Thanks to God, who sent you to our aid, my child is recovered, and can now walk; and I intend to fly, tonight, from this terrible place."

"But there is no escape," John said. "The soldiers allow none to pass and, if you could pass through them, the Romans would slay you."

"I can escape," the woman said, "and that is why I have called you in.

"My husband–who was killed by Simon's robbers, three months ago–was for many years employed in working in the underground passages of the city, and in repairing the conduits which carry the water from the springs. As I often carried down his food to him, when he was at work, I know every winding and turn of the underground ways.

"As you know, the ground beneath the city is honeycombed by passages whence stone was, in the old time, obtained for buildings. There are many houses which have entrance, by pits, into these places. This is one of them, and my husband took it for that convenience. From here, I can find my way down to the great conduit which was built, by King Hezekiah, to bring the water from the upper springs of the river Gihon down into the city. Some of these waters supply the pool known as the Dragon Pool, but the main body runs down the conduit in the line of the Tyropoeon Valley; and those from the Temple could, in old times, go down and draw water, thence, should the pools and cistern fail. But that entrance has long been blocked up for, when the Temple was destroyed and the people carried away captives, the ruins covered the entrance, and none knew of it.

"My husband when at work once found a passage which ran, for some distance, by the side of some massive masonry of old time. One of the great stones was loose; and he prised it out, to see what might lie behind it. When he did so he heard the sound of running water and, passing through the hole, found himself in a great conduit. This he afterwards followed up; and found that it terminated, at the upper end of the Valley of Hinnom, in a round chamber, at the bottom of which springs bubbled up. There was an entrance to this chamber from without, through a passage. The outer exit of this was well-nigh filled up with earth, and many bushes grew there; so that none passing by would have an idea of its existence.

"When the troubles here became great, he took me and showed me the conduit; and led me to the exit, saying that the time might come when I might need to fly from Jerusalem. The exit lies far beyond the camps that the Romans have planted on either side of the Valley of Hinnom; and by going out at night, I and my child can make our way, unseen, to the hills. Since you have saved our lives, I tell you of this secret; which is known, I think, to none but myself for, after showing me the place, my husband closed up the entrance to the passage–which was, before, well-nigh filled up with stones.

"It may be that the time may come when you, too, will need to save yourself by flight. Now, if you will come with me, I will show you the way. See, I have mixed here a pot of charcoal and water, with which we can mark the turnings and the passages; so that you will afterwards be able to find your way for, without such aid, you would never be able to follow the path, through its many windings, after only once going through it."

John thanked the woman warmly for her offer, and they at once prepared to descend into the pit. This was situated in a cellar beneath the house; and was boarded over so that plunderers, entering to search for provisions, would not discover it. Upon entering the cellar, the woman lit two lamps.

"They are full of oil," she said, "and I have often been sorely tempted to drink it; but I have kept it untouched, knowing that my life might some day depend upon it."

Rough steps were cut in the side of the pit and, after descending some thirty feet, John found himself in a long passage. The woman led the way. As they went on, John was surprised at the number and extent of these passages, which crossed each other in all directions–sometimes opening into great chambers, from which large quantities of stone had been taken–while he passed many shafts, like that by which they had descended, to the surface above. The woman led the way with an unfaltering step, which showed how thorough was her acquaintance with the ground; pausing, when they turned down a fresh passage, to make a smear at the corner of the wall with the black liquid.

Presently, the passages began to descend rapidly.

"We are now under the Palace of King Agrippa," she said, "and are descending by the side of the Tyropoeon Valley."

Presently, turning down a small side passage, they found their way arrested by a pile of stones and rubbish. They clambered up this, removed some of the upper stones, and crawled along underneath the roof. The rubbish heap soon slanted down again, and they continued their way, as before. Another turn, and they were in a wider passage than those they had latterly traversed.

"This is the wall of the conduit," the woman said, touching the massive masonry on her right hand. "The opening is a little further on."

Presently they arrived at a great stone, lying across a passage, corresponding in size to a gap in the wall on the right. They made their way through this, and found themselves in the Conduit of King Hezekiah. A stream of water, ankle deep, was running through it.

"We need not go further," the woman said. "Once here, you cannot miss your way. It will take nigh an hour's walking through the water before you arrive at the chamber of the springs, from which there is but the one exit."

"I will come down again with you, tonight," John said, "and will carry your child to the entrance. You will both need all your strength, when you sally out; so as to get well beyond the Romans, who are scattered all over the country, cutting wood for their embankments. Moreover, I shall be able to see, as I come down with you, whether all the marks are plainly visible, and that there is no fear of mistake for, once lost in these passages, one would never find one's way again; and there would be the choice between dying of hunger, and of being found by the Romans–who will assuredly search all these passages for fugitives, as they did at Jotapata.

"Truly, I thank you with all my heart; I feel you have given me the means of saving my life–that is, if I do not fall in the fighting."

As they made their way back to the house, John examined the marks at every turning, and added to those that were not sufficiently conspicuous to catch the eye at once. When they had gained the cellar, and replaced the boards, the woman said:

"Why should you not also leave the city, tonight? All say that there is no hope of resistance; and that John of Gischala and Simon are only bringing destruction, upon all in the city, by thus holding out against the Romans. Why should you throw away your life so uselessly?"

"I have come here to defend the Temple," John said, "and so long as the Temple stands I will resist the enemy. It may be it is useless, but no one can say what is the purpose of God, or whether He does not yet intend to save his Holy Seat. But when the Temple has fallen, I shall have no more to fight for; and will then, if I can, save my life, for the sake of those who love me."

That evening, on his return from the wall, John proceeded to the house of the woman. She was in readiness for the journey. The child, who was seven or eight years old, was dressed; and the mother had a little bundle with her valuables by her. As soon as they descended into the passage below, John offered to carry the child, but her mother refused.

"She can walk well," she said, "for a time, and you could not carry her upon your shoulder; for the passages are, in many places, but just high enough for you to pass under without stooping. At any rate, she can walk for a time."

It was not long, however, before the child, weakened by its illness, began to drag behind; and John swung her up on to his back. The marks, he found, were easily made out; and in half an hour they arrived at the entrance to the conduit. Here they were forced to walk, slowly. In some places the water, owing to the channel having sunk, deepened to the knee; at other times stones had fallen from the roof, and impeded their passage; and it was nearly two hours before they reached the arched chamber, at the termination of the conduit. There was a stone pavement round the edge of the pool, and upon this they sat down to rest, for an hour, for both John and the woman were exhausted by the labor they had undergone.

"It is time for me to be moving," the woman said, rising. "It must be nigh midnight, and I must be some miles on my way before morning. The child has walked but a short distance, yet; and will do her best, now, when she knows that those wicked Romans will kill her–and her mother–if they catch them.

"Won't you, Mariamne?"

The child nodded. The Romans were the bogey with which Jewish children had, for the last five years, been frightened; and she announced her intention of walking till her feet fell off.

"I will carry you, as much as I can," her mother said, "but it can only be for a short distance at a time; for I, too, am weak, and your weight is too much for me.

"And now, God bless you, my friend," she said, turning to John; "and may He keep you safe through the dangers of the siege, and lead you to your home and parents again!"

They made their way to the end of the passage together; climbed over the rubbish, which nearly blocked the entrance; crawled through the hole, and found themselves in the outer air. Thick low bushes covered the ground around them, and no sound was to be heard.

John rose to his feet, and looked round. Behind him, at the distance of more than a quarter of a mile, the light of the Roman watch fires showed where the legions were encamped. Beyond and above could be seen, here and there, a light in the city. No sound was to be heard, save the occasional call of a Roman sentinel. On the other side, all was dark; for the working parties always returned to camp, at night, in readiness to repel any sortie the Jews might make against the camps or working parties.

"It is a very dark night," John said, doubtfully. "Do you think you can find your way?"

"There are the stars," the woman replied, confidently. "Besides, I was born at Bethlehem, and know the country well. I shall keep on west for a while, and then turn off into the deep valleys leading down towards Masada.

"God be with you!" and, taking the child's hand, she emerged from the bushes, and glided noiselessly away into the darkness.

John set out on his return journey–which he found very much shorter than he had done coming, for the weight of a child for two hours, when walking over difficult ground, is trying even to a strong and active man. He carefully replaced the boards across the mouth of the pit, placed the lamps in a position so that he could find them in the dark and, upon going out of the house, closed the door carefully.

The next morning, that of the 29th of May, the Roman attack began. The Fifth and Twelfth Legions had raised embankments near the Struthion–or Soapwort–Pool, facing the Castle of Antonia; while the Tenth and Fifteenth raised theirs facing the great towers of Hippicus, Phasaelus, and Mariamne. They had not carried out their work unmolested, for the Jews had now learned the art of constructing and managing war machines; and had made three hundred scorpions for throwing arrows, and forty ballistae for hurling stones and, with these, they had caused terrible annoyance and great loss to the Romans.

But now, all was prepared. On the evening of the 28th, the last stroke had been given to the embankment; and on the following morning the engines were mounted, and the troops stood in readiness for the attack. Suddenly a smoke was seen, stealing up round the embankments facing Antonia; and the Roman officers called back their men, not knowing what was going to occur. Then a series of mighty crashes was heard. The great embankments, with their engines and battering rams, tottered and fell. Dense smoke shot up in columns, followed rapidly by tongues of fire, and soon the vast piles of materials, collected and put together with so much pains, were blazing fiercely; while the Jews laughed, and shouted in triumph, upon the walls.

The moment John of Gischala perceived where the Romans were going to construct their embankments, he had begun to run a mine from behind the walls towards them. When the gallery was extended under them, a great excavation was hollowed out; the roof being supported by huge beams, between which were piled up pitch and other combustibles. When the Romans were seen advancing to the attack, fire was applied and, as soon as the supports of the roof were burned away, the ground, with the embankments upon it, fell in.