On the Destruction of Jerusalem 3.1–3.8

After this was reported to Nero, who was then in the region of Achaia and had been striving by practice of tragic songs to carry off the stage crown from several contests—you would not know which was more shameful, that an emperor came out on the stage or that he filled the stage with his own crimes, he who disgraced Orestes by singing him and represented him by his own parricide—grave fear seized him. Dreading not those imitations of games but the extremities of wars, he came to his senses at last from the obscenity of theatrical pleasures and the fury of parricidal madness, and, turning to the cares of the state, he raged and stormed within himself that the Roman state had received so great a disaster through the carelessness of a commander rather than the valor of its adversaries. He tried indeed to feign boldness, but fear refuted him; and he tried to put forward a show of greatness of spirit, as if his mind were above the troubles of affairs. But he was torn by anxiety of mind as to which commander he should choose to remove the disgrace and finish the war. The coming destruction of the final ruin was pressing on Judea, so that Nero put on a kingly character and with the voice of a provident counselor expressed a sound judgment: that Vespasian alone was the one to whom the supreme military command in the regions of the East should rightly be entrusted, a man grown old from youth in the service of triumphant warfare, who had settled with long peace the Gauls when, unpacified by the turmoil of the Germans and by the ferocity of native rashness, they had relapsed into war. He had also won by arms for the Roman empire Britain, still lying hidden among the waves; by the wealth of that conquered land Rome was thought richer, Claudius wiser, Nero braver. So they had celebrated trophies over subjugated nations whose wars they had not seen. Under this commander (I say it again) Nero was terrible, Nero to be feared, powerful abroad, safe at home, Vespasian's loyalty and courage being equal to each other. How great was this man, by whose arms the life of Nero was hidden among foreign nations, so that a mockery of human affairs, the disgrace of sworn impurity, was made illustrious even with triumphs! So when there was fighting to be done on the farthest borders of the Roman world, Vespasian was chosen out of all. When war had been laid aside, Vespasian was associated with him above the rest, so that neither a public enemy should survive nor a domestic plotter creep in. He was worthy to arrive at kingship by a soldier's service. He taught loyalty and showed courage. Nero sent him unwillingly, taking away his own protection; but he was hemmed in by the coming punishments of his crimes, so that, separated from so great a companion, he left himself unarmed. Never, surely, would Galba have taken up the ambition of aspiring to the empire had he not learned that Vespasian was absent. But God arranged this, that a man should be sent into Syria who would both shake the insolence of the Jews with the final destruction of their nation and the disgrace of captivity, and leave Nero without help—though no one's valor can bring any hindrance to heavenly decrees. Yet Nero, mad as he was, when he learned that a strong force of the Roman army had been stricken in the war with the Jews, rose against the Christians, so that the end owed to him drew near.

At that time Peter and Paul, teachers of the Christians, were at Rome, sublime in works and famous for their teaching. By the power of their works they had made Nero hostile, for he had been captured by the blandishments of Simon Magus, who had won his mind over to himself. Simon promised him by deadly arts help to victory, the subjection of nations, length of life, and protection of his safety; and Nero believed him, not knowing how to examine the reality of things. In the end Simon held the highest place of friendship with him, since he even regarded him as the guardian of his safety and the keeper of his life. But when Peter uncovered his vanities and crimes and showed that he made false appearances of things and accomplished nothing solid or true, he was held a laughingstock and was consumed with deserved grief. And although he had experienced Peter's power in other parts of the world, yet, getting to Rome first, he dared to boast that he could raise the dead. At that time at Rome a noble young man, a relative of Caesar, had died, to the grief of all. Many urged that it should be tried whether he could be raised. Peter was held most famous for such works; but among the gentiles no credence was given to a deed of this kind. Grief demanded a remedy: they went to Peter. There were some who thought Simon too should be summoned; both came. Peter said: let Simon, who boasted of his own power, take the first turn, to raise the dead man if he could. If he did not raise him, Peter would not fail to bring the help of Christ to the dead man so that he could rise. Simon, who thought his arts would have great power in a city of gentiles, proposed a condition: that if he himself raised the dead man, Peter should be killed, since by provoking the Great Power (for so Simon was called) he had done him injuries; but if Peter prevailed over Simon, he should be punished in the same way. Peter agreed. Simon began; he went up to the dead man's bier; when he began to chant and mutter dreadful spells, the dead man seemed to move his head. There was a great outcry of the gentiles that he was already alive, that he was speaking with Simon; anger and indignation against Peter, that he had dared to set himself against so great a power. The holy apostle asked for silence and said: “If the dead man is alive, let him speak; if he has been raised, let him rise, walk, and talk.” What seemed to be the movement of the head, he said, was a phantasm, not truth. “Finally,” he said, “let Simon be separated from the bier, and then not even that will be on show.” Simon is led away from the bier; the dead man remains without any appearance of movement. Peter stood farther off, and, intent on prayer within himself for a little while, said with a loud voice: “Young man, rise; the Lord Jesus heals you.” And at once the young man rose, spoke, walked, and took food; and Peter gave him to his mother. When she begged him not to leave him, he said: “He will not be abandoned by the one who made him rise, whose servants we are. Be at ease, mother, about your son; do not fear; he has his guardian.” And when the people rose up against Simon to stone him, Peter said: “It is punishment enough for him that he knows his arts have no power. Let him live and see the kingdom of Christ grow, even against his will.” The magician was tortured by the apostle's glory. He collected himself, and, rousing all the power of his spells, gathered the people and said he had been offended by the Galileans; he would leave the city he used to protect. He set a day and promised a flight by which he would be carried to the heavenly dwellings, since heaven lay open to him whenever he wished. On the appointed day he climbed the Capitoline hill, and, throwing himself from the rock, began to fly. The people marveled and worshiped, many saying that this was the power of God, not of a man, who flew with his body; that Christ had done nothing of the kind. Then Peter, standing in the middle, said: “Lord Jesus, show him that his arts are vain, so that this people, which is going to believe, may not be deceived by this show. Let him fall, Lord, yet so that, living, he may recognize that he could do nothing.” And at once, at Peter's word, the oars of the wings he had put on became entangled and he fell; he was not killed, but with his leg broken and crippled he withdrew to Aricia and died there. When he learned of this, Nero, grieving that he had been deceived and abandoned, at the fall of so great a friend, and indignant that a man useful and necessary to the state had been taken from him, began to look for reasons to kill Peter. And now the time had come when the holy apostles Peter and Paul were to be called. In the end, when an order had been given for them to be arrested, Peter was begged to go elsewhere. He resisted, saying he would by no means do so, as if terrified by fear of death he should give way; it was good to suffer for Christ, who had offered himself to death for all; that would not be death but immortality; it was unworthy that he himself should flee the suffering of his body, who by his teaching had driven many to offer themselves as victims for Christ; it was owed to him, according to the Lord's word, that he too in his suffering should give glory and honor to Christ. Peter put forward these and other things; but the people, complaining with tears that he would leave them and abandon them tossed among the storms of the gentiles, overcame him with their weeping, and Peter yielded; he promised he would leave the city. The next night, having said farewell to the brothers and having prayed, he began to set out alone. When he came to the gate, he saw Christ coming to meet him, and, worshiping him, said: “Lord, where are you going?” Christ said to him: “I am coming to be crucified again.” Peter understood that this was said of his own suffering, because Christ seemed about to suffer in it—he who suffers in each one, not indeed by bodily pain but by a kind of compassion of mercy, or by the celebration of glory. And turning back, he returned to the city; seized by the persecutors and condemned to the cross, he asked to be fixed to the cross with his feet turned upward, because he was unworthy to be crucified in the same way as the Son of God suffered. This was granted, either because it was so owed, as Christ had foretold, or because a persecutor does not unwillingly grant an increase of punishments. And both he and Paul were put to death, the one by the cross, the other by the sword.

But to return to our subject: Nero, troubled by the grave news that affairs in Judea had gone badly, put Vespasian, a man experienced in war, in command of all the forces in Syria. He hastened—no time for delay was given—and, sending his son Titus to Alexandria to bring from there part of the soldiers stationed there, he himself crossed the strait of the Hellespont and made his way by land to Syria. Meanwhile the Jews, elated by their success, chose leaders for the war. They distributed the places over which each should preside, what duties each should perform, what ranks, what tasks they should carry out. They put Joseph son of Gorion and Ananus, chief of the priests, in charge of the affairs of the city of Jerusalem, and especially of restoring the walls. Eleazar son of Simon was burning to have some public office entrusted to him. Although he had brought under his own power all the plunder they had taken from the Roman army—rich especially and abundant, heaped up by the greed and immoderate robberies of Cestius—they thought him more intent on gaining power for himself than inclined to the common use, and decided he should be passed over. But gradually, by canvassing individuals, giving and lavishing, he brought it about that the direction of all affairs was committed to his judgment. Idumea too was taken under their protection by Jesus, one of the priests, and Eleazar, son of a priest, appointed commanders—reserving all precedence in the highest matters, however, to Niger, governor of all Idumea. Jericho fell to Joseph son of Simon. To Manasseh was entrusted the region of Peraea, situated across the Euphrates, which gets its name from the fact that the Euphrates is crossed by those going to that region. John the Essene and another John, son of Ananias, and the rest were assigned to other districts to protect with their care. So each did not neglect the duties entrusted to him: they built walls and chose fighting men. Of these, Josephus, going down into Galilee, energetically took care to fortify fortresses, restore ramparts, and enlist all the strongest and readiest for war; to forbid brigandage; to keep watch daily in the camp; to train the soldiers in the manner of Roman service, divide them, arrange ranks, and put very many centurions in command, so that discipline might more easily be exacted from all and no one who had neglected his own duty could stay hidden. He also taught them to recognize the trumpet calls for advance and retreat, to follow order, to dress the line, to interlock their shields so that, like a wall, if a great force of enemies should fall upon them, they could defend themselves against the attackers; to help those in difficulty, to have compassion on the weary, to take others' dangers on themselves; and not only to teach the arts of war after the pattern of Roman service, but also, before war, to announce what would most help men in fighting: that the soldier should carry his own food and arms, fortify himself with rampart and ditch, forestall the enemy in pitching camp, obey orders, become used to abstaining from theft and plunder, and count it his own gain if no loss was inflicted on the farmers in the country. For what difference would there be from enemies if he himself took things away like an enemy?—except that it is worse to attack one's own than another's, and to rob allies than adversaries. A good conscience has great power in war, because he who knows himself guilty of no crime can presume more on divine help. But by these things he found that he soon harmed himself by envy among the wicked more than he profited by favor among the good. For when he had gathered about sixty thousand foot and very few horse, and about four thousand men who waged war for pay, and also six hundred picked bodyguards, he suffered so much from the Jews that he dreaded more dangers from his own before the war than from the Romans in the war itself. I pass over what sedition was raised because he was suspected of returning what had been seized by brigandage to those who had lost it, and especially to Agrippa and Berenice, to whom it would justly be restored, so as not to make the king more hostile. And yet, to soften the people's onslaught, he said the money had been kept for building the walls rather than for indemnifying the owners; and as for everything taken from Ptolemy, who had been carrying the royal gold, garments, and other gifts, the people of Taricheae ought to judge—for the matter was being handled among them—whether they thought it should be kept for restoring their own walls or brought out to be plundered by brigands. It certainly seemed unworthy that he should receive punishment for having taken the better counsel. So, turning them to favor him, he escaped both the odium and the danger. Again, when Tiberias sought the favor and alliance of King Agrippa, Josephus, hurrying out of that city, shut the gates of Taricheae so that no messenger should go to the city of Tiberias and report that Josephus lacked military help. He himself gathered from the lake the fishing boats he could find in the time, and made for Tiberias by rowing. But when he came to the place where the appearance of the boats would be visible to those in the city, yet it could not be made out whether they were empty of fighters, he ordered them to be spread over the whole extent of the lake, so that their number would be thought greater and no one would think them empty rather than filled with warriors. Terrified by this, because they thought themselves weak against so great a multitude, they threw away their arms, opened the gates, and poured out as suppliants to Josephus, who had come nearer as if commander of a military force. He asked by what madness they had put on the mind to defect, at whose instigation they had been driven to give themselves to the adversaries; and at the same time he ordered the steersmen to take those who came to meet him to Taricheae; and there he seized about three hundred councillors and very many of the common people and put them in chains. Clitus too, summoned as the leader of that deed, he ordered to pay the penalty by having his hands cut off; and when he begged that at least one hand be left him, Josephus ordered him to cut off whichever he wished himself. Then he, seizing a sword in his right hand, cut off his left. So Tiberias was recovered. Sepphoris too attempted defection, yet by Josephus's quickness it was kept among the allied cities of the Jews; for he preferred to defend his own by calmer counsels rather than attack others'.

But Niger the Peraite, Silas the Babylonian, and John the Essene, gathering all the strong youth there was in Judea, made for Ascalon, a large city supported by strong walls but in need of resources and help, separated from the city of Jerusalem by seven hundred and twenty stadia—and by great hatreds. For this reason the Jews, wishing to destroy a city hostile to them, gathered a force and rushed upon it. Antonius commanded the city with a smaller number of the Roman army than was thought able to resist the Jews. But being a man of keen mind and a prudent warrior as well, he led out his cavalry and let them, scattered and trusting more in numbers than in courage, cross toward the city; then, as they advanced in their charge, he wore out the pursuers, scattered those in close order, routed the disordered, and chased the stragglers over the whole plain. Some, in turn, were pressed back against the walls, the means of flight cut off; others made for different directions but were surrounded by the cavalry and cut down. Many rushed on one another and trampled each other in their own rush. So, being slaughtered until evening, they lost ten thousand of their men, John and Silas, their commanders, being killed together. Few Romans were wounded in that battle. Yet the rashness of the Jews was not checked but grew hotter, for grief kindled daring and disaster the desire for vengeance. So they armed themselves with far greater fury, and before the wounds of the wounded were healed, having gathered more than the first time, they rushed on. But Antonius, having laid ambushes, caught them before they came to close quarters, shut them in with his cavalry spread around them, and ordered them to be cut down once surrounded. Again nine thousand were killed, and the rest fled. Niger himself slipped away and betook himself to a stronghold. It was a tower enclosed on every side with strong stone, which the Romans, because they could not demolish it, surrounded with fires set against it. When it was burned, he crossed from the tower into a certain cave, hid from the enemy and escaped the fire; and while the Romans felt secure, thinking he had been consumed in the fire, on the third day, when his men were looking for his body to bury it, he was given back alive and well. So, preserved to the great joy of the Jews, he was restored as if from the enemy.

Vespasian meanwhile, having crossed the Hellespont and passed through Bithynia and Cilicia, when he reached Syria, led to Antioch the legions and other military forces he found there. That city is without question the first of Syria and is therefore held its metropolis; it was founded by those who followed Alexander the Great in his wars, and is named after its founder. The site of the city stretches out to an immense length; on the heights it is narrower, because it is hemmed in on the left by the steep of a mountain, so that the area of the city could not be extended farther. Necessity marked out the place: since the Parthians broke in through hidden and pathless ways, the higher mountain would give them a hiding place from which, by unexpected arrival and swifter attack, they could pour into an unprepared Syria, had not the city set itself before the mountain like a barrier and blocked the exits to those approaching, so that if any of the barbarians climbed up, he would at once be seen from the middle of the city's hollow. Indeed, they say that when stage plays were being performed in that city, a certain author of mimes, raising his eyes to the mountain, saw the Persians approaching and said at once: “Either I am dreaming, or there is great danger: look, the Persians!” So high does the mountain stand that not even the height of the theater hinders the view of it. A river divides it through the middle, which, rising in the east, sinks into the sea not far from the city; the ancients called it Orontes from the course of its source, so that it is commonly thought to have given its name to the places, though it received it from them. By its streams, cooler from their very force, and by the zephyrs constantly blowing through those places, the whole city is cooled at almost every moment, so that in the regions of the East it hides the East. Inside are sweet waters; outside is a neighboring grove interwoven with many cypresses, and springs rich in water. They call it Daphne, because it never lays aside its green. The people are numerous and rather merry, like most of the East, and wittier than almost all, but rather given to wantonness. The city was formerly reckoned third among all the cities of the Roman world, now fourth, since Constantinople has grown, the city of the Byzantines, once the head of the Persians—now of those who repel them; for first is Rome, second Alexandria, third Antioch, fourth Constantinople. I think enough has been said about the site of the city. Nor does it seem I should linger in describing its buildings: since I have said that the East lies at its back, it is clear enough that on the left it lies toward the south, in front Europe meets it, on the right the northern nations live and the Caspian kingdoms are held, which formerly were very ready to raid Syria. But after Alexander the Great set the Caspian gate on the cliff of Mount Taurus and shut off every route to the inner nations, he made that city quiet, except perhaps when it suspects Persian movements. In that city King Agrippa was awaiting Vespasian's arrival with all his forces; and since Vespasian did not delay long, he joined his company, and with their march united they began to make for Ptolemais. To that city the inhabitants of Sepphoris came to meet them, asking that the peace they had long ago made with Cestius Gallus be confirmed by Vespasian. He praised their prudence, in that they had provided for their own safety by not provoking the Romans; having received their pledge, he took them into friendship and, adding auxiliaries of foot and horse, protected them with security, lest perhaps, stung by resentment at being abandoned, the instigators of war rise against them—since, as the people of Sepphoris offered themselves to the Roman empire, a kind of barrier of Judea was being opened, so that a passable road would lie open to the enemy into a land that by a fortunate position faced the enemy as a guard of the whole nation. For it was beyond the expectation of the place the greatest and most fortified city of Galilee; which reminds us, since there are two Galilees, one upper and the other lower, connected and joined to each other, to distinguish the one from the other. But first something must be said about both.

Both Galilees border on Syria and Phoenicia. On the west they are bounded by Ptolemais with the limits of its territory and by Mount Carmel, which formerly belonged to the Galileans but is now joined to the territory of the Tyrians; joined to it is the city of Gaba, which was once the cause of grave destruction to the Jews. On the east Hippene and Gadara cut it off with their borders; the same bounds were also fixed in old times with the region of Gaulanitis and the kingdom of Agrippa. On the south Scythopolis and Samaria each take it up with their regions, and do not allow it to extend beyond the streams of the Jordan. Its northern parts on the right side are closed by Tyre and the whole region of the Tyrians, by whose position the spaces of Galilee are bounded. The two are distinguished from each other in this way: the one called Lower Galilee spreads in length from the city of Tiberias to the city called Chabulon, above the coast of Ptolemais; its breadth runs, without doubt, from the village of Xaloth, which is in the great plain, to Bersabe. From there too the beginning of Upper Galilee opens, as far as it reaches the borders of the village of Baca; and by this same village the borders of the Tyrian land are fixed. Its length begins at the village of Thella, and its end is Meroth, near the Jordan. From this it may be understood how far the spaces of Upper Galilee extend, whose beginning is the Jordan or its borders. By this estimate of their size, then, both Galilees are distinguished. The land is rich, grassy, gleaming with various kinds of cultivation, set with trees, so as to entice anyone to love it and to invite and rouse even one who shuns labor to the pursuits of farming. In short, not even a small portion of land lies idle there: it is crowded with very many inhabitants—frequent cities, numerous villages, a countless multitude of people, so that a small village in its district has twenty thousand inhabitants. Both Galilees are surrounded by foreign nations on every side, and therefore the race of men is warlike, trained from earliest age in the trials of battle, abounding in numbers, ready in daring, and prepared for all the arts of war. Peraea, however, is greater in size; whence it got its name we said above. This is larger, but Galilee is more useful, because it is all cultivated and no part of it is barren of fruits, but its whole land is rich and fertile. Peraea is more widespread, but for the most part desert and rugged, a land that does not know how to be tamed by ploughing nor to subdue its harsher juices easily. But again a portion of it is soft for cultivation, fertile for use, pleasing to the sight, mild to work, useful for grafted fruit trees, bearing everything, so that distinct trees border its fields in front and adorn them in the middle, and often protect the crops from excessive sun or cold; the land is especially clothed with olives, interwoven with vines, or marked with palms. It cannot be told how beautiful it is when the rows of palms, driven by the wind, rustle together and the sweet scent of dates is shaken out more than usual. No wonder all the charm of greenery is there, where the field, overflowed by the pleasant courses of rivers running down from the ridge of the mountains above, is watered, and, gushing with snowy springs, is possessed with envy and longed for with love. Its length is from Machaerus to Pella, that is, from the south to the north; its breadth from Philadelphia to the river Jordan, that is, it stretches from the east to Arabia; and on the west it is shown to extend to the river Jordan. The region of Samaria lies in the middle between Judea and Galilee, beginning from the village called Ginaea and ending in the land of the Acrabatenes, of a very similar nature and in no way differing from Judea. Both are mountainous and level by turns, according to the diversity of places; neither is all spread out in plains nor everywhere cut by the cliffs of mountains, but has the charm of both qualities; the soil is loose and soft for the work of cultivation and therefore useful for grain, and in the fertility of its ground second to none, certainly first of all in the ripening of its fruits. For while grain is still being sown elsewhere, here it is being reaped. The appearance and very nature of the grain is held nowhere more excellent. The water is sweet, beautiful to see, pleasant to drink, so that the Jews judged by the charm of the elements that the land promised to the fathers was flowing with milk and honey, though it had promised them the privilege of the resurrection. And divine goodness would have conferred both, had they kept faith; but from faithless minds both were taken away: the one by the yoke of captivity, the other by the bond of sin. The region is wooded and therefore rich in cattle and abounding in milk; indeed nowhere does the flock carry udders so swollen with milk. Wild and grafted fruits exceed the abundance of all regions. Both Judea and Samaria are filled with a multitude of people, so that the Jews seem to me to have interpreted from this what is written, that there will be no barren or unfruitful woman in those places, though the law prescribed this about the fruitfulness of merits and the fertility of virtues. The beginning of Samaria from the borders of Arabia is at a village called Jordan; its end to the north is the village of Dorea. The breadth of Judea runs from the river Jordan to Joppa. For it begins from the springs of the Jordan and from Mount Lebanon, and is extended as far as the lake of Tiberias. Its length begins at the village of Arpha and extends to the village of Julias, in which there is a common habitation of Jews and Tyrians alike. In the middle of Judea is the city of Jerusalem, called, as wise men have held, the navel of the whole region. The region abounds in inland resources and is not cheated of maritime ones, because it extends as far as Ptolemais and borders that whole sea with its shores. There are many cities, but among all Jerusalem stands out, so that, like the head in the body, it does not overshadow its limbs but rules them and is their protection and beauty. So concerning Judea and the neighboring regions we have not omitted, though in a suitable summary, what needed to be pointed out.

The people of Sepphoris, having received tribute and military reinforcements, were raiding the neighboring regions, claiming for themselves a free authority for brigandage under color of the war that the Jews were bringing on the Roman empire. So Josephus, eager to avenge the injury of the harshness he had suffered, gathered a great number of men and hastened to fall upon the city of Sepphoris, either to call them back into alliance with Judea or, if they resisted, to shake them with final destruction if he could. But both attempts failed of effect, because he could neither dissuade them from their choice of the Roman connection nor overthrow the city that he himself had strengthened with such fortifications that it could not be stormed even by the Romans, far stronger as they were. So he sounded the retreat, the attempted assault having had no result, and roused war throughout the whole region. The Romans laid everything waste, burning buildings day and night, plundering what they had seized, subjecting the weak to slavery. All Galilee was filled with fire, blood, and brigandage, free of no misery, and with a hideous appearance of everything, since whatever survived fire or slaughter was reserved for captivity. Those things which a little before were thought the bitterest were preferred to this evil.

This was a kind of prelude to the war, before Titus came. As soon as he crossed from Achaia to Alexandria and brought the soldiers according to his father's orders, he came to meet him at the city of Ptolemais; and there, having joined the fifth and tenth legions, with the fifteenth also added, which were the most excellent, and the army of Romans and allies having been gathered, they began a fierce and memorable war. For when, at the first beginnings, things that had gone well for a mild commander turned to adversity, Vespasian set out in harsher mood and plunged with his son from the borders of Ptolemais into Galilee. Learning that they refused peace—to whom he had offered the opportunity of condemning their dissension, if they chose to look to themselves—he utterly overthrew Gabara, which he found empty of fighters, because all the stronger men, distrusting its weaker fortifications, had gone to more fortified places. He spared none he found but ordered all to be killed, with no regard for age, no pity for weakness, which he carried out not so much by the law of war as from grief at Cestius's battle and from hatred poured out on the Jews. Indeed he ordered not only the city but also the villages and towns to be burned. Nor was his anger unjust, because after such great insolence he had given them the opportunity to amend their error, and he had not been obeyed. Josephus had crossed from that city to Tiberias before the Roman army approached; but his flight caused more fear than his presence gave confidence. For they were terrified by the very fact that Josephus judged himself unequal to waging war against the Romans. Nor did he expect anything else, unless the Jews should lay aside their eagerness for war. His earlier view was this: if they chose war, he preferred to keep faith with his fellow citizens by undergoing danger rather than to show himself a traitor by avoiding it. For he guarded against nothing more than disgracing the very honor of command entrusted to him. So he wrote to the city of Jerusalem that war was upon them, and that they should write back quickly whether they preferred peace or battle; counsel must be taken in good time. He indicated this briefly, inclining to neither side, so as not to be judged either a timid warrior or a stubborn rebel.