Answer to Justus of Tiberias

Having come to this point in my narrative, I want to say a few words to Justus, who has himself written an account of these events, and to the others who promise to write history but care little for the truth, and who are not ashamed to tell lies out of enmity or favor. They do something like those who draw up forged documents for contracts; but because they have no fear of the same punishment, they despise the truth. Justus, at any rate, having undertaken to write up these events and the war, has told lies about me so as to seem a hard worker, and has not told the truth even about his own city. So, since false witness has been borne against me, I am now forced to defend myself, and I will tell what has been kept quiet until now. Let no one be surprised that I did not make these things known long ago. A writer of history must tell the truth; yet he is free not to expose people’s wickedness bitterly, not out of favor toward them, but out of his own moderation. [a]

How then, Justus, cleverest of writers (for that is what you boast of yourself), to speak to you as though you were present: how were I and the Galileans responsible for your city’s revolt against the Romans and against the king? Before ever I was elected general of Galilee by the community of Jerusalem, you and all the people of Tiberias had not only taken up arms but were making war on the Ten Cities of Syria. It was you who burned their villages, and your own household slave fell in that battle. Nor is it only I who say this. It is written so in the commentaries of the emperor Vespasian, and so is the way the inhabitants of the Ten Cities clamored to Vespasian at Ptolemais, demanding that you, the man responsible, be punished. And you would have paid the penalty at Vespasian’s command, had not King Agrippa, who had received the power to put you to death, given in to the many entreaties of his sister Bernice and, instead of killing you, kept you in chains for a long time. Your public conduct afterward also shows clearly what the rest of your life was like, and that it was you who led your city to revolt from the Romans. I will give the proofs of this shortly.

I also want to say a few words to the rest of the people of Tiberias on your account, and to show those who will read these histories that you were friends neither of the Romans nor of the king. The greatest cities in Galilee, Justus, were Sepphoris and your own Tiberias. Sepphoris lies in the very center of Galilee, with many villages around it, and could easily have made a bold stand against the Romans if it had wished. Yet it resolved to remain loyal to its masters. It shut me out of the city and prevented any of its citizens from joining the Jews in the war. To be safe from me as well, they tricked me into fortifying their city with walls, and they willingly received a garrison from Cestius Gallus, the commander of the Roman legions in Syria, holding me in contempt at a time when I was very powerful and everyone stood in dread of me. And when the greatest of our cities, Jerusalem, was under siege, and the temple that belonged to us all was in danger of falling into the enemy’s power, they sent no help, not wanting to be thought to have taken up arms against the Romans. But your city, Justus, lies on the Lake of Gennesaret, nearly four miles from Hippos, seven and a half from Gadara, and fifteen from Scythopolis, which was subject to the king, with no Jewish city nearby. It could easily have kept faith with the Romans if it had wished; for you were a large population and well supplied with arms. But, as you say, I was responsible for it then. Who was responsible afterward, Justus? You know that before the siege of Jerusalem I had fallen into the hands of the Romans, that Jotapata had been taken by storm, and many fortresses too, and that a great multitude of Galileans had fallen in the fighting. That was the time, then, when you were rid of all fear of me, to throw away your arms and show the king and the Romans that you had rushed into war against them not willingly but under compulsion. Instead you waited until Vespasian himself came up to your walls with his whole army, and only then did you lay down your arms out of fear. And your city would certainly have been taken by storm, had not Vespasian given way to the king, who pleaded for you and begged pardon for your folly. So it was not I who was responsible, but you yourselves, who had war in your minds.

Or do you not remember that, though I had you in my power so many times, I put none of you to death? But you, quarreling among yourselves, killed a hundred and eighty-five of your own citizens, not out of goodwill toward the Romans and the king, but out of your own wickedness, and that at the very time I was besieged by the Romans in Jotapata. And during the siege of Jerusalem, were not two thousand of the people of Tiberias counted, some fallen and some taken prisoner? But you will say that you were no enemy, because you fled to the king at that time. I say that you did this, too, out of fear of me. I am a wicked man, as you say. But King Agrippa, who granted you your life when you had been condemned to death by Vespasian, who gave you so much money: why did he afterward put you in chains twice, and as many times order you to leave your country? And once, when he had ordered you put to death, he granted you your life only at the many entreaties of his sister Bernice. And after so many of your crimes he trusted you with the post of secretary in charge of his letters, but when he found you dishonest in these too, he banished you from his sight. But I leave off examining these things in detail.

I cannot help marveling at your shamelessness in daring to say that you have told the story better than all who have written this history. You did not know what was done in Galilee, for you were then at Berytus with the king. You did not follow what the Romans suffered at the siege of Jotapata, or what they did to us; nor could you find out what I myself did during that siege, for all who could have reported it perished in that battle. But perhaps you will say that you have written exactly about what was done at Jerusalem. How could that be? You were not present at the war, and you have not read Caesar’s commentaries. The greatest proof is this: you have written an account that contradicts Caesar’s commentaries. If you are so confident that you have written better than everyone else, why did you not bring your history out while the emperors Vespasian and Titus, who carried the war through, were alive, and while King Agrippa and all his family were still living, men who had gone very far in Greek learning? You had it written twenty years ago, and you could have received the testimony to its accuracy from those who knew. But now, when those men are no longer with us and you think you cannot be refuted, you have grown bold. I was not afraid for my own writing in the same way. I presented the books to the emperors themselves, when the deeds were all but still before people’s eyes; for I knew that I had kept to the truth in my account, and I expected to obtain their testimony to it, and I was not disappointed. I also presented the history at once to many others, some of whom had taken part in the war, such as King Agrippa and some of his relatives. The emperor Titus wanted people to learn of these events from these books alone, so much so that he signed them with his own hand and ordered them to be published; and King Agrippa wrote sixty-two letters bearing witness to the truth of my account. I have added two of them, and you may learn from them, if you wish, what he wrote:

“King Agrippa to his dearest Josephus, greetings. I have read through the book with the greatest pleasure, and you seem to me to have recorded these things with much more care and accuracy than those who have written about them. Send me the rest too. Farewell.” “King Agrippa to his dearest Josephus, greetings. From what you have written, you seem to need no instruction in order to teach us all the whole story from the beginning. But when you meet me, I will tell you myself many things that are not known.” So when the history was finished, he bore witness to its truth, not flattering me, for that was not his way, nor speaking in irony, as you will claim, for he was far from such malice; he bore witness to the truth, just as all who read these histories will do. But let this be enough said about Justus, in a digression that was necessary.

When I had settled the affairs of Tiberias, I sat in council with my friends and deliberated about what to do with John. All the Galileans were of the opinion that I should arm every one of them, march against John, and punish him as the man responsible for all the strife. But I did not approve of their views, since my purpose was to put down these troubles without bloodshed. So I urged them to take every care to learn the names of those who were under John. When they had done so and I knew who the men were, I posted a proclamation offering a pledge and my right hand to those of John’s followers who were willing to change their minds, and I allowed twenty days to those who wished to consider what was to their own advantage. And I threatened that unless they threw down their arms, I would burn down their houses and confiscate their property. When the men heard this, they were thrown into great alarm and deserted John. Four thousand of them threw down their arms and came to me. Only his fellow citizens stayed with John, and some foreigners from Tyre, the mother city, about fifteen hundred. So John, outgeneraled by me in this way, stayed in his own town from then on, in great fear. [g]

About this time the people of Sepphoris took courage and took up arms, trusting in the strength of their walls and seeing that I was occupied with other matters. They sent to Cestius Gallus, the governor of Syria, urging him either to come quickly himself and take over their city or to send them a garrison. Gallus promised to come, but did not make clear when. When I learned this, I took the soldiers I had with me, set out against the people of Sepphoris, and took their city by storm. The Galileans seized the opportunity and would not let the moment for their hatred slip, for they were hostile to this city too. They rushed in as though to wipe out all its people, together with those who had settled there. Running in, they set fire to the houses, which they found deserted, for the people had fled in fear to the citadel. They plundered everything and left out no form of devastation against their own countrymen. When I saw this, I was deeply distressed. I ordered them to stop, reminding them that it was not right before God to do such things to their own countrymen. But since they would listen neither to my pleas nor to my orders, and their hatred overcame my appeals, I told the most trustworthy of the friends around me to spread a report that the Romans had broken in on the other side of the city with a large force. I did this so that, once the rumor took hold, it might check the Galileans’ fury and save the city of Sepphoris. In the end the stratagem succeeded. When they heard the news, they became afraid for themselves, abandoned their plundering and ran, all the more because they saw me, their general, doing the same; for, to make the rumor believable, I pretended to be just as frightened as they were. So the people of Sepphoris were saved, beyond their own hope, by my trick.