We now descend into the valley, only to rise again, and skirt along the bluff where the narrow road is cut into the rock.
But, praise the Lord, perilous places are past, and the scene changes. We pass out of the Wady Kelt, and lo, the broad valley, the sacred river, and the Salt Sea burst upon our vision! These things within themselves are not so attractive to the eye, but, compared with the hill-country behind us, they are as beautiful as “apples of gold in baskets of silver.” For ten miles above the Dead Sea the Jordan valley is fourteen miles wide, and is divided by the river which flows through its centre. This part of the valley west of the river is called the Plain of Jericho, while that portion beyond the river is known as the Plain of Moab. So the valley, practically level, stretches out for seven miles on either side of the river. Then on either side of the river, seven miles from it, and parallel with it, there rises up a frowning wall of rock whose savage grandeur might well typify ruin and desolation. For ages the winter torrents have been coursing down their sides, until now they are seamed and furrowed, cut and scarred in every possible manner, and the mountains seem to writhe in pain and agony!
But we have left the hills. We are now in the valley, and here before us, seven miles from the river, at the edge of the plain and at the base of the mountain, stands Jericho, old hoary-headed Jericho—“The City of Palm Trees.” She is venerable, indeed! It was Jericho that Moses looked down upon from the heights of Nebo. It was Jericho that furnished shelter to the “young men” who came from Israel’s camp to “spy out the country.” It was Jericho that Joshua first attacked “after crossing over the Jordan.” Her fortifications then were strong, her walls high. Her people thought “Our castle’s strength will laugh a siege to scorn.” But the bold spirit of Joshua was undaunted. It was God’s to command and his to obey. He surrounded the city. He sounded the tocsin. The walls fell! Now, reader, let us realize that when God commands you or me to do anything, we should move forward though confronted by walls of adamant! What is opposition to us? We move in obedience to the behest of Him who could besiege a city with “trumps of Joshua,” and route a host with the “lamps of Gideon!”
After Joshua’s day, Herod the Great rebuilt the city on a grander scale than ever. Stately castles were erected, marble palaces arose on every hand. Great wealth was lavished upon the city. She was robed in rich apparel and decked with “rubies rare.” Here Herod held high carnival. Here he ruled and reveled, and
“All went merry as a marriage Bell.”
But Time has dealt harshly with Jericho. Fickle Fortune has played her false. She has passed through all the vicissitudes of fortune. Iron-fingered Fate has torn off her royal robes, and she sits to-day clad in sackcloth and ashes. “Gray lizards, those heirs of ruin, of sepulchres, and desolation, glide in and out among the rocks, or lie still and sun themselves. Where prosperity has reigned and fallen; where glory has flamed and gone out; where beauty has dwelt and passed away; where gladness was, and sorrow is; where the pomp of life has been, and silence and death brood in high places,—there this reptile makes his home and mocks at human vanity. His coat is the color of ashes, and ashes are the symbol of hopes that have perished; of aspirations that have come to naught; of loves that are buried. If he could speak he would say, ‘Build temples: I will lord it in their ruins; build palaces: I will inhabit them; erect empires: I will inherit them; bury your beautiful: I will watch the worms at their work; and you who stand here and moralize over me: I will crawl over your corpse at last.’”
The locations of ancient and of modern Jericho are not exactly the same, though not far apart. The present village is inhabited by about 600 Arabs who are huddled together in less than seventy-five houses. Houses, did I say? They are unworthy of the name. They are wretched huts, constructed, for the most part, of rough, unhewn, undressed stone. As these stones are put together without the use of mortar, the walls are broad at the bottom, and get narrower and a little narrower towards the top, which is about six feet from the ground. In each of the four corners of this rock pen, is driven a stake which is usually about eight feet high, or some two feet higher than the top of the wall. Long, straight poles reach from one stake to another, then other poles are placed like lattice work all across the top of the pen. A thick layer of grass and weeds and cane tops having been placed on these cross poles, dirt, or earth, is then piled up to a depth of from eighteen to twenty-four inches. Thus the roof is formed. The floor is more simple in its construction, as it is composed of the native earth or bare rock. Doors are simply gaps in the wall. Windows and chimneys are unknown, and indeed unnecessary—air-holes are abundant, and the smoke can escape anywhere. The rude houses are separated from each other, and the whole village is surrounded, by a low, rough hedge of dry, thorny bushes. This is a fair representation of the present architecture of Jericho. And the inhabitants are as lazy and trifling, as filthy and ignorant, as the huts they live in would naturally suggest. The children dress in sunshine, while the parents hide their nakedness with rags and loose wraps of cloth.
The Plain of Jericho, seven by ten miles in extent, was at one time, according to Josephus, “a divine region, covered with beautiful gardens, and groves of palms of all kinds, the whole splendidly watered.” The water supply, no doubt, came then, as it comes now, from the Sultan’s Spring, or, as it is sometimes called, the Spring of Elisha. This bold and beautiful fountain bursts forth from the foot of the Judean hills some two miles from Jericho, and, flowing across the plain in a southwesterly direction, empties into the Jordan. From the main channel, a large number of small streams flow out in different directions into the valley, and thus fructify a considerable portion of the plain. The half cultivated patches we find here now, though only partially irrigated, are exceedingly rich and productive. The climate in this valley is suitable to the growth of almost any tropical or warm-natured plant. But the meagre crops are confined to wheat, millet, tobacco, cucumbers, and beans. On this plain, near the Wady Kelt, through which we entered the valley, is a large stone reservoir, 471 feet by 564 feet, called the Pool of Moses. Going across the plain to this mammoth pool, is an old aqueduct which evidently supplied it, at one time, with water. Then smaller aqueducts carried the water to all parts of the valley. This pool, and these aqueducts, were probably built by Mark Antony just before he gave this region of country to Cleopatra, or by Herod the Great, whose base life was ended at Jericho in a fit of agony. By this means of irrigation the valley became what it might be made again—“the glory of the Jordan.”