From the terrace outside the mudir's house we had already taken in the general effect—all the more striking and wonderful that the old town has not been defaced by a single modern building, and hence is far more easily reconstructed by the imagination than Madaba, or even Ammân—a fact for which the history of the settlement, rather than any æsthetic perception, accounts. When the followers of the Emir Nūh Bey arrived at Jerash he took possession of the east side of the valley for the use of his immediate family and attendants, reserving the opposite bank for relatives who were to follow. For various reasons—possibly the accounts of discord with the Bedu, possibly even some diplomacy on the part of the family here—they have not, so far, arrived, and some two hundred immigrants who came in 1895 were passed on southward. There seems to be some difference of opinion as to the extent of the population, Baedeker giving it at three hundred; Schumacher, whose very interesting monograph is the only other available source of information, at between fifteen and sixteen hundred souls, including some score of fellahin, who serve as labourers and ploughmen, and a few Moslem shopkeepers, Here, as in Ammân, we saw not a single woman in the streets.
The ruins are so extensive, and stand out so clear against the hillside, that, with the Professor's help in identifying the buildings, it was easy, from the east side of the valley, to reconstruct in imagination a town which imagination only can picture, so utterly different is it from the banalities and vulgarities of modern utilitarianism.
Owing to the harder qualities of the stone the ruins are better preserved than those at Ammân, have lost less of their original sharpness, and have the freshness so remarkable at Pompeii. And yet an Arabic writer of the thirteenth century, Yakut, describes it even then "as a great city now a ruin." In the ninth century it was mentioned with admiration by the earlier writer, Yakubi, although its decline probably began with the expulsion of the Byzantines.
The most striking features of the scene before us are its highest point, the Temple of the Sun; its most southern point, the triumphal arch leading towards the Roman road to Ammân; and the great colonnade, of which over a hundred pillars are still standing, running from one end to the other of the city. There are two large theatres, two temples, a great oval forum, four bridges, and at each of the two points at which the main street, with its propylæa, is intersected by side streets, there is a tetrapylon, a rotunda, square on the exterior and once decorated with statues. The town was pear-shaped, and enclosed by walls 3552 metres long, having at least three, probably six or seven, gates.
This is a mere enumeration; of such a feast of beauty for the lover of form it is almost hopeless to attempt description. As we descended, and took a few points in detail, we realised that, with the amount of time at our disposal, even to catalogue such a scene was an impossibility. At the utmost we could but note a few of the more obvious features, and we longed for a few days to dispose of.
Crossing the main street with its great colonnade, many of its splendid pillars lying on the ground, overthrown by earthquakes, we pass the ruins of grand propylæa and of a ruined palace, and, climbing an almost perpendicular ascent, reach the great Temple of the Sun, enclosed by a colonnade, with a portico approached by steps, consisting of three rows of immense Corinthian columns, 38 feet high and 6 feet thick, the acanthus leaves of the capitals being of rare perfection of workmanship. Smaller temples have stood around it, and, descending again, turning our horses' heads a little northward, we find a theatre with sixteen tiers of seats, and a proscenium strikingly low, intended, it is said, for gladiatorial combats and exhibitions of wild beasts. This theatre, like the temple, is joined to the main street by a colonnade and tetrapylon, the rotunda of which was once decorated with statues. The forum next attracted us. It is of oval shape, 120 paces in length, and fifty-five of its columns are still standing, all having Ionic capitals. Another temple, smaller than the first, lies near the south gate. Its massive walls, 7½ feet thick, contain many niches and windows; the double Corinthian colonnade is scattered far and wide, though the bases are easily traced, and the little that remains testifies to the former grace of the building.
Close beside this is a large theatre facing towards the north, so that the spectators must have had a magnificent background of their familiar public buildings. Twenty-eight tiers of seats are visible, but probably others lie buried in the débris. It is estimated that the acoustic properties of the building must have been excellent, and that at least 5000 spectators could enjoy the spectacle. We observed an arrangement upon the pillars for the hanging of garlands. Beyond the south exit in the town wall is the Triumphal gateway; according to some the two gateways were alike, forming a splendid vista as one approached the town, each being of triple construction—the central arch 29 feet in height, the total width 82 feet. There are considerable remains of an interesting building, thought by some to be a naumachia, or theatre for the representation of naval battles. That there exists a circus, of which many rows of seats still remain, cannot be doubted; but recent authorities are of opinion that the adjoining basin, 230 yards in length by 100 yards in width, into which well-preserved channels lead the water from the brook below, must have served some other purpose.
We could not but regret that the lateness of our start cut short our opportunity for further enjoyment of the scene; but a day of ten or twelve hours was before us, and we soon found ourselves once more upon the Roman road, with our horses turned towards the south.