My suggestion made an impression on Vespasian. He peered at me, passed his hand over his mouth and laughingly explained that he could not possibly take the responsibility for a Roman senator’s exposing himself to such danger, if I meant it seriously. If I were taken prisoner then the Jews would demand concessions of him. If I lost my life ignomini-ously, then this would bring shame on Rome and on him. Nero might take it into his head that he had deliberately rid himself of one of Nero’s personal friends.
He looked at me craftily, but I knew his cunning little ways. So I replied that for the good of the State, friendship must stand aside. He had no reason to insult me by calling me a friend of Nero’s. In this respect we need hide nothing from each other. Rome and the future of the fatherland were our guiding lights on the battlefield, where the corpses stank, the carrion birds gorged and legionaries hung like sun-dried sacks from the walls of Jerusalem.
I raised my voice rhetorically as I was in the habit of doing in the Senate. Vespasian patted me on the back in a friendly way with his broad peasant hand and assured me that he in no way doubted my motives and put his trust in my patriotism. Naturally he had not even imagined that I was going to slip into Jerusalem to betray his military secrets; I could not be that mad. But on the torture racks not even a strong man can keep his mouth shut, and the Jews had shown themselves to be skillful interrogators when it came to getting information. He regarded it as his first duty to protect my life and my safety, once I had voluntarily put myself under his protection.
He introduced me to his adviser Josephus, a Jewish rebel leader who had betrayed his friends when they had all decided to commit suicide rather than fall into Roman hands. Josephus had allowed his friends to die and had then surrendered, saving his life by prophesying that one day Vespasian would be Emperor. As a joke, Vespasian had had golden shackles put on him and promised to release him if his prophecy came true. Later, when he was freed, he insolently called himself Flavius Josephus.
From the very first I took an instant dislike to this despicable traitor, and the literary reputation he has since acquired has in no way altered my opinion, in fact to the contrary. In his foolish voluminous work on the Jewish rebellion he overestimates, in my view, the significance of many events, and is much too long-winded in his accounts of details.
My criticism is not in the slightest influenced by the fact that he found no reason to include my name in his book, although it was solely due to me that the siege was continued, once I had seen the circumstances within the walls with my own eyes. It would have been mad for Vespasian, in this political situation, to use his well-trained legions for useless attacks against the unexpectedly strong walls, when a siege and starvation brought about the same result. Unnecessary losses would have made him unpopular with the legionaries, which would have not suited my intentions at all.
501
But I have never longed for recognition in history, so this despicable Jew’s silence concerning my contribution is unimportant. I never bear grudges toward inferior people and do not usually avenge insults, as long as I am not tempted by an unusually favorable opportunity. I am only human.
Through one of my freedmen, I even offered to publish Flavius Josephus’ books, both The Jewish War and his accounts of the history and customs of the Jews, however many inaccuracies there are in them, but Josephus said that he preferred a Jewish publisher, despite the advantageous conditions I had offered. Later I had a shortened, unauthorized version of The Jewish War brought out, for the book seemed to go very well. My freedmen had his family and his old mother to support, so I did not oppose this suggestion of his, fox someone else would have done the same thing.
I really mention Josephus only because he servilely agreed with Vespasian and opposed my views. He laughed scornfully and said that I obviously did not know what a wasp’s nest I was thinking of sticking my head into. If I somehow got inside the walls of Jerusalem, then I would never get out again alive. After many objections and much prevarication, he nevertheless found me a map of the city. I learned it off by heart while my beard was growing.
A beard in itself is no safe disguise, for the legionaries had followed their fierce opponents’ example and let their beards grow and Vespasian had not punished them for it. He even allowed a legionary to exchange a flogging for a fine. This was one of the reasons why he was so popular, but it was also difficult for him to maintain Roman army regulations in the field, for his own son Titus had cultivated a silky beard to please the lovely Berenice.
Saying that I must find the safest place in which to make my way into the city, I went on a long excursion around Jerusalem and was careful to remain more or less within range of the enemy’s bows and war machines, though naturally I did not risk my life unnecessarily. I had my own reasons for this because of you. So I dressed in strong armor and a helmet, although this equipment made me pant for breath and sweat profusely. But during those days I lost pounds of weight from my plump body so that the straps soon loosened. It did me nothing but good.
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