The soil round Jericho was long celebrated for a precious balsam, which used to be sold for double its weight of silver. The historian Justin relates, that the trees from which it exudes bear a resemblance to firs, though they are lower, and are cultivated after the manner of vines. He adds, that the wealth of the Jewish nation arises from their produce, as they grow in no other part of Syria. At present, however, there is not a tree of any description, either palm or balsam, to be seen near the site of this deserted town; but it is admitted, that the complete desolation with which its ruins are invested ought to be attributed to the cessation of industry rather than to any perceptible change either in the climate or the soil.
Rahhah stands about four miles nearer the river, or about half-way between the assumed position of Jericho and the bank of the current. It consists of about fifty dwellings, all very mean in their appearance, and every one fenced in front with thorny bushes; one of the most effectual defences that could be raised against the incursions of the Bedouins, whose horses will not approach these formidable thickets. The inhabitants, without exception, are professed believers in the creed of Islamism. Their habits are those of shepherds rather than of cultivators of the soil; this last duty, indeed, when performed at all, being done chiefly by the women and children, as the men roam the plain on horseback, and derive the principal means of subsistence from robbery and plunder. They are governed by a sheik, whose influence among them is more like the authority of a father over his children than that of a magistrate; and who is, moreover, checked in the exercise of his power, by the knowledge that he would instantly be deprived of life and station were he to exceed the bounds which, in all rude countries, are opposed even to the caprices of despotism. It is remarkable that the name of this village corresponds to Rahab, the name of the hostess who received into her house the Hebrew spies, and signifies odour or perfume; the slight change on the form of the Arabic term implying no difference in the import of the root whence they are both originally derived.
The mountains on the eastern side of the Jordan are more lofty than those which skirt the Vale of Jericho, being not less than 2000 feet in height. From the summit of a towering peak, which the traveller still delights to recognise, Moses was permitted to behold the promised inheritance, stretching towards the west, the south, and the north,—"All the land of Gilead unto Dan, and all Naphtali, and the land of Ephraim, and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of the Valley of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar. And the Lord said unto him, this is the land which I sware unto Abraham, unto Isaac, and unto Jacob, saying, I will give it unto thy seed: I have caused thee to see it with thine eyes, but thou shalt not go over thither. So Moses, the servant of the Lord, died there, in the land of Moab, according to the word of the Lord. And he buried him in a valley in the land of Moab, over against Beth-peor: but no man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day."[118]
The road from Jericho to Jerusalem presents some historical reminiscences of the most interesting nature. When entering the mountains which protect the western side of the plain, the attention of the traveller is invited to the Fountain of Elisha, the waters of which were sweetened by the power of the prophet. The men of Jericho represented to him that though the situation of the town was pleasant, "the water was naught, and the ground barren. And he said, bring me a new cruse, and put salt therein: and they brought it to him. And he went forth unto the spring of the waters, and cast the salt in there, and said, thus with the Lord, I have healed these waters; there shall not be from thence any more death or barren land. So the waters were healed unto this day, according to the saying of Elisha which he spake."[119]
Its waters are at present received in a basin about nine or ten paces long, and five or six broad; and from thence, issuing out in good plenty, divide themselves into several small streams, dispersing their refreshment to all the land as far as Jericho, and rendering it exceedingly fruitful. Advancing into the savage country through which the usual road to the capital is formed, the tourist soon finds himself at the foot of the mountain called Quarantina, from being the supposed scene of the temptation and fast of forty days endured by our Saviour, who,
—"looking round on every aide, beheld
A pathless desert dusk with horrid shades:
The way he came not having marked, return
Was difficult, by human steps untrod;
And he still on was led, but with such thoughts
Accompanied of things past and to come
Lodg'd in his breast, as well might recommend
Such solitude before choicest society."[120]
The neighbourhood of this lofty eminence is, according to Mr. Maundrell, a dry, miserable, barren place, consisting of high rocky mountains, so torn and disordered, "as if the earth had here suffered some great convulsion, in which its very bowels had been turned outward." In a deep valley are seen the ruins of small cells and cottages, thought to be the remains of those sequestered habitations to which hermits were wont to retire for the uses of penance and mortification; and it is remarked that, in the whole earth, a more comfortless and desert place could not have been selected for so pious a purpose. From these hills of desolation, however, there is obtained a magnificent prospect of the Plain of Jericho, the Dead Sea, and of the distant summits of Arabia; for which reason the highest of the group has been assigned by tradition as the very spot whence all the kingdoms of the world were seen in a moment of time. It is, as St. Matthew styles it, an exceeding high mountain, and in its ascent not only difficult but dangerous. It has a small chapel at the top, and another about half-way down, founded upon a projecting part of the rock. Near the latter are observed several caves and holes, excavated by the solitaries, who thought it the most suitable place for undergoing the austerities of Lent,—a practice which has not even at the present day fallen altogether into disuse. Hasselquist describes the path as "dangerous beyond imagination. I went as far up on this terrible mountain of Temptation as prudence would admit, but ventured not to go to the top; whither I sent my servant to bring what natural curiosities he could find, while I gathered what plants and insects I could find below."[121]
Mariti, whose religious zeal was fanned into a temporary flame, ascended the formidable steep as far as the grottoes, which he delineates with much minuteness. He pronounces the chapel inaccessible from the side on which he stood, and is very doubtful whether it could now be approached on any quarter, the ancient road being so much neglected. But it should seem that most travellers are smitten with the feeling which seized the breast of Maundrell, although they all have not the candour to acknowledge it. Alluding to the Arabs, who demanded a sum of money for liberty to ascend, he says, "we departed without further trouble, not a little glad to have so good an excuse for not climbing so dangerous a precipice."[122]
The imagination of Milton has thrown a captivating splendour around this scene, which, at the same time, he appears to have transferred to the mountain-range beyond the Jordan in the country of the Moabites.
"Thus wore out night; and now the herald lark
Left his ground-nest, high towering to descry
The morn's approach, and greet her with his song,
As lightly from his grassy couch up rose
Our Saviour, and found all was but a dream;
Fasting he went to sleep, and fasting waked.
Up to a hill anon his steps he reared,
From whose high top to ken the prospect round,
If cottage were in view, sheepcote, or herd;
But cottage, herd, or sheepcote, none he saw;
Only in a bottom saw a pleasant grove,
With chant of tuneful birds resounding loud;
Thither he bent his way; determined there
To rest at noon, and entered soon the shade
High roofed, and walks beneath, and alleys brown,
That opened in the midst a woody scene."[123]