Flavius Josephus
(37-100)
"But why dwell on the commonplace rubbish
which the starving were driven to feed upon, giver that what I
have to recount is an act unparalleled in the history of either
the Greeks or the barbarians, and as horrible to relate as it is
incredible to hear?"
The Siege of Jerusalem, AD 70
by Josephus
Jerusalem fell, after a siege, to a Roman army under Titus.
Josephus was a Jew who had gone over to the Romans.
      Throughout the city people were dying of hunger in large
numbers, and enduring unspeakable sufferings. In every house the merest
hint of food sparked violence, and close relatives fell to blows, snatching
from one another the pitiful supports of life. No respect was paid
even to the dying; the ruffians [anti-Roman zealots] searched them,
in case they were concealing food somewhere in their clothes, or just
pretending to be near death. Gaping with hunger, like mad dogs, lawless
gangs went staggering and reeling through the streets, battering upon
the doors like drunkards, and so bewildered that they broke into the
same house two or three times in an hour. Need drove the starving to
gnaw at anything. Refuse which even animals would reject was collected
and turned into food. In the end they were eating belts and shoes,
and the leather stripped off their shields. Tufts of withered grass
were devoured, and sold in little bundles for four drachmas.
      But why dwell on the commonplace rubbish
which the starving were driven to feed upon, giver that what I have
to recount is an act unparalleled in the history of either the Greeks
or the barbarians, and as horrible to relate as it is incredible
to hear? For my part I should gladly have omitted this tragedy, lest
I should be suspected of monstrous fabrication. But there were many
witnesses of it among my contemporaries; and besides, I should do
poor service to my country if I were to suppress the agonies she
went through.
      Among the residents of the region beyond
Jordan was a woman called Mary, daughter of Eleazar, of the village
of Bethezuba (the name means "House of Hyssop"). She was well off,
and of good family, and had fled to Jerusalem with her relatives,
where she became involved with the siege. Most of the property she
had packed up and brought with her from Peraea had been plundered
by the tyrants [Simon and John, leaders of the Jewish war-effort],
and the rest of her treasure, together with such foods as she had
been able to procure, was being carried by their henchmen in their
daily raids. In her bitter resentment the poor woman cursed and abused
these extortioners, and this incensed them against her. However,
no one put her to death either from exasperation or pity. She grew
weary of trying to find food for her kinsfolk. In any case, it was
by now impossible to get any, wherever you tried. Famine gnawed at
her vitals, and the fire of rage was ever fiercer than famine. So,
driven by fury and want, she committed a crime against nature. Seizing
her child, an infant at the breast, she cried, "My poor baby,
why should I keep you alive in this world of war and famine? Even
if we live till the Romans come, they will make slaves of us; and
anyway, hunger will get us before slavery does; and the rebels are
crueler than both. Come, be food for me, and an avenging fury to
the rebels, and a tale of cold horror to the world to complete the
monstrous agony of the Jews." With these words she killed her
son, roasted the body, swallowed half of it, and stored the rest
in a safe place. But the rebels were on her at once, smelling roasted
meat, and threatening to kill her instantly if she did not produce
it. She assured them she had saved them a share, and revealed the
remains of her child. Seized with horror and stupefaction, they stood
paralyzed at the sight. But she said, "This is my own child, and
my own handiwork. Eat, for I have eaten already. Do not show yourselves
weaker than a woman, or more pitiful than a mother. But if you have
pious scruples, and shrink away from human sacrifice, then what I
have eaten can count as your share, and I will eat what is left as
well." At that they slunk away, trembling, not daring to eat,
although they were reluctant to yield even this food to the mother.
The whole city soon rang with the abomination. When people heard
of it, they shuddered, as though they had done it themselves.
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