Josephus by Lion Feuchtwanger

A book review by Anne McFadgen

A compelling novel with a poignant subtext, Josephus covers the early career of controversial first-century Jewish historian, Flavius Josephus, focusing on his role in the First Jewish-Roman War.

Joseph ben Matthias, Judæan aristocrat and priest of the first rank, is pleased with himself as he steps out into the great city of Rome. He's clever, handsome, fêted by his Jewish hosts, and on a righteous mission to free three venerable Jews wrongfully imprisoned as rebels. He secures an audience with Nero's beautiful young empress, Poppæa. Charmed by Joseph's zeal, she asks the Minister of Oriental Affairs to release the prisoners. The Minister seizes the opportunity to trade his assent for the Imperial seal on an edict guaranteed to outrage and mobilise the Jews of Judæa; Rome needs an excuse to comprehensively crush ongoing Jewish resistance. His scheme bears fruit. In AD 66 Judæa revolts.

Led by canny old commander Vespasian, Roman forces prevail until only the fortified city of Jerusalem remains in the hands of Jewish rebels. Vespasian is acclaimed Emperor and returns to Rome, leaving the siege to his son Titus. Weeks drag by. Jerusalem, with its lofty, magnificent Temple, becomes to the besieging Romans a symbol of obdurate Jewish arrogance to be overthrown. Haunted by his part in Judæa’s catastrophe, Joseph vows to expiate his guilt by standing as history's witness to the destruction of Jerusalem, the very heart of Judaism.

Rebel commander, Roman captive and Flavian protege, Josephus, long reviled as a traitor and Roman toady, is portrayed with clear-eyed empathy as a complex, talented man who craves recognition, and whose desire to become a "citizen of the world" conflicts with his Jewish identity.

Feuchtwanger, a German Jew, used the medium of historical fiction to draw a clear parallel between the Roman Empire's brutal repression of the Jews and the Third Reich's "final solution". Josephus brings home his eloquent message about the human cost of rabid nationalism and imperial ambition. (1932, 530 pages)