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Santa Saba.
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'Ain es Sultan.
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Juniper — Mallows.
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Quarantania.
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The Jordan.
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Overflow of the Jordan.
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'Ain Hajla-Beth-hogiah.
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Passage of the Israelites.
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Gilgal.
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Palm-tees.
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Riha.
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Balm of Gilead.
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Pilgrims in Jordan.
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Wady Kelt-Cherith?
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Jericho.
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Dead Sea — Change on its site.
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Dead Sea
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April 24th.
The tent never was so welcome to me as at the close of this long day's ride. I am glad we have taken it, but shall never wish to repeat it.
The reasons of this unusual weariness are, that we have actually been in the saddle more than twelve hours, and then the greater part of the day and of the ride has been in this depressed and hot region of the Dead Sea. The fact is, our visit is nearly a month too late both for pleasure and health. But the fatigue is over, and we may now sit down and review at our leisure this most interesting excursion.
View Near Santa Saba
Among the multiplicity of sights and scenes which drew my attention hither and thither in rapid succession, only a few points have impressed their features upon my memory. In the morning, as soon as the gate of the convent was opened, I climbed to the top of the tower on the south of the ravine. From there my eye roamed over a wilderness of rusty brown hills, the most dreary and blasted that I ever beheld. Beyond and below it is the Dead Sea, bordered on the east by the abrupt cliffs of Moab. Turning to what was beneath me, the wonderful chasm of the Kidron struck me with amazement. We have seen nothing so profound or so wild in all our travels.
Attractions of the Spot
I am glad you have had an opportunity to spend one night in an Oriental convent, and become acquainted with these remarkable institutions. Santa Saba is among the very best specimens, and, in addition to its distinctive religious character, it seems always to have been a sort of frontier castle in the heart of this stern desert of Judea. Saint Saba was probably attracted to the spot by those very savage aspects of the scene which strike our minds with such horror. The howling wilderness, the stern desolation, the terrific chasms, the oppressive solitude, the countless caverns, the ever-prevalent dangers from wild beasts and wild robbers — these and such as these were the charms that fascinated his morbid imagination. We would not judge the dead, however, nor ought we to forget the shelter and good dinner which his institution afforded us last night. It is really, in our day, a very respectable hotel, and gentlemen — not ladies — can scarcely do better than to spend one of the two nights there which an excursion from Jerusalem to the Dead Sea and the Jordan necessarily requires. The regime, it is true, partakes of both military sternness and conventual austerity, so far as the fortress itself and the monks within it are concerned; but both are necessary, the one to meet the requirements of the Church, the other to repel the attacks of the Bedawin, who prowl about at all seasons, watching for an opportunity to force an entrance and to plunder the rich treasures of the establishment.
As to the ride from St. Saba to the Dead Sea, you surely cannot have forgotten the path along the perpendicular cliffs of Wady en Nar — Valley of Fire — as the wonderful gorge of the Kidron is there called; nor the long descent to and ascent from it; nor the naked hills over which we toiled in the broiling sun for seven hours, frequently losing the path amid tangled ravines and shelving gullies washed out of sand-hills; nor will you cease to remember the delight with which we galloped over the level plain after we had escaped from this perplexing net-work of wadies.
Of all these things I have but a faint recollection, but I remember attempting to shelter my aching head from the burning sun under a stunted juniper-tree.
Yes; and, in your disappointment, said that, if Elijah's juniper afforded no better shade than yours, it was not at all surprising that he requested for himself that he might die (1 Kings 19:4). And certainly these straggling bushes cast but a doubtful shade at all times, and lend no effectual protection against such a sun and wind as beat upon us in our “wilderness.” Still, the prophet slept under one, and the Bedawin do the same, when wandering in the desert, where they often furnish the only shelter that can be found. Job, as translated, has a curious reference to this tree in the 30th chapter of his remarkable dialogs. He says that those contemptible children whose fathers he would have disdained to set with the dogs of his flock, flee into the wilderness, and for want and famine cut up mallows by the bushes, and juniper roots for their meat (Job 30:1-4). These mallows are a coarse kind of greens, which the poor boil as a relish for their dry bread. I have often seen the children of the poor cutting them up under the hedges and by the bushes in early spring; so that this rendering seems natural and appropriate to us who reside in the country, and therefore I accept the rendering, without noticing the arguments of learned critics against it.
What sort of juniper roots can be used for food is more than I can discover or comprehend. They are excessively bitter, and nothing but the fire will devour them.
ILLUSTRATION
Coals of Juniper
Burckhardt found the Bedawin of Sinai burning them into coal, and says that they make the best charcoal, and throw out the most intense heat. The same thing seems to be implied in Psalm 120:4, where David threatens the false tongue “with sharp arrows of the mighty, with coals of juniper.” Perhaps the meaning of Job is, that the poor cut up mallows to eat, and juniper roots with which to cook them. This would give a sense in accordance with the known use of these roots, and still preserve the connection with the food of the poor. The Arabic word is retem — the same as the Hebrew; and Forskal calls it genista raetam. It is, therefore, a species of broom, and not that kind of juniper which bears the famous berries, and whose oil assists in the composition of certain varnishes. This tree is also found in the country, and, if you had met with it, you would have had less occasion to complain of the want of shade.
Some of these things will certainly be remembered, nor shall I ever forget the unexpected appearance of Mount Hermon towering to the sky far, far up the ghor to the north (which convinced me that Moses also saw it from the mountains of Moab); nor the sombre and shadowy surface and shores of the Dead Sea, nor the indescribable feeling of disappointment at the Jordan.
First Sight of Jordan
While approaching it over that melancholy desert of soft deep sand, I eagerly watched the line of willow-trees which you said marked out the tortuous line of the river, expecting it to burst on my delighted eyes; but not until we were actually on the very brink did I see water enough to fill a thimble, and when there it was hard to believe that what I saw was the whole Jordan. Finding, however, that it was, I endeavored to reconcile my previous anticipations with the vastly ensmalled reality by noticing the rapidity of the current and the depth of the stream.
Jordan’s Stormy Banks
This, however, was not your first acquaintance with the river; but I cannot smile at your forgetfulness of this fact, for, though I have looked at the Upper Jordan a thousand times, yet down here at Jericho I too am always disappointed. When boys, we used to sing with vast enthusiasm, “On Jordan's stormy banks I stand,” and supposed that it was big as the Ohio at least, and as stormy as the Northwest Passage; and something like this must have been in the mind of Watts when he applied the word stormy to this little river rambling over this low plain where everlasting summer abides. It is not an epithet which personal acquaintance would have suggested.
Prejudices
I begin to feel that there is more fancy than fact in the costume and drapery of many of our hymns; but that is allowable, perhaps. I found, however, that my traditionary notions in regard to matters of fact were about equally fanciful. What, for example, becomes of one's hereditary ideas of the prodigious fertility of the plain of Jericho? From the river to 'Ain Hajla there was nothing but a most unprofitable extension of simmering sand, bare and barren of everything except stunted thorn bushes and ugly black lizards.
You must not forget that the day has been excessively hot, you very tired, and, more than all, that the cultivated part of the plain has just been shorn of its luxuriant harvests, and also that the vegetation elsewhere has entirely dried up, except the “summer crops” which are irrigated from 'Ain Hajla, the brook Krith, and this fountain of Elisha. If your temper had not been somewhat like the day, and your anticipations had been moderated by reflection, you would have brought away impressions more just as well as more agreeable.
’Ain Hajla-Beth-Hoglah
I see that 'Ain Hajla stands on modern maps for Beth-hoglah.
And correctly, I think; but that the Gilgal where Joshua made his first encampment within the promised land, and where the ark and tabernacle remained for so many years after the conquest, was immediately above it, as located on some modern maps, remains yet to be proved. Josephus says that Joshua pitched his camp fifty furlongs from the river, and ten from Jericho (Ant. 6, 4).
Gilgal
Now, if he crossed due east of the city, and if Josephus is correct in his numbers, then Gilgal must have been very near the present Riba; and this, again, may have been true, on the supposition that ancient Jericho was in the immediate neighborhood of this 'Ain es Sultan, as I suspect it really was; for Riha is about six miles from the Jordan, and a city below this Fountain of the Sultan would not be much more than ten furlongs from it. All these things are mere suppositions, I admit, and, indeed, there probably never was any permanent city called Gilgal in this plain; and if there was, it had passed away, and the name and site were lost even before Josephus wrote his history.
I have never seen this plain so entirely deserted as it is at present.
Riha
Even the few inhabitants of Riha have gone to other parts to labor, since their own harvests are already gathered. On my first visit the whole valley was lively enough, for I was one of several thousand pilgrims drawn hither from all parts of the world to bathe in this holy river.
This is a ceremony which we have missed, somewhat to my regret, as it was one of the scenes I had always associated with my intended visit to the Jordan.
Well, since you cannot see, the next best thing is to hear; and if you will put yourself into the most comfortable position to listen, I will read from notes, taken a quarter of a century ago, the adventures of my first visit to Jericho.
Procession of Pilgrims to the Jordan
Early in the morning of April 16th, 1833, we left the Convent of Archangel, and passed down the Via Dolorosa to the Palace, where the guard was already in motion, and from thence, with the white flag of the pilgrim in front, and the green of the prophet in the rear, we set forward. It was a merry hour, apparently, to everybody. The whole population of the city, of either sex and of every age, in their best, lined the zigzag path along which the pilgrim host was to pass.
Road From Jerusalem to Jericho
With noise and pomp such as Arabs only can affect, we passed out at St. Stephen's Gate, wound our way down into the narrow vale of Jehoshaphat, over the south point of Olivet, by the miserable remains of the city of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus, and then prepared ourselves to descend, for you remember that we must go “down to Jericho.” And, sure enough, down, down we did go, over slippery rocks, for more than a mile, when the path became less precipitous. Still, however, the road follows the dry channel of a brook for several miles further, as if descending into the very bowels of the earth. How admirably calculated for “robbers!”
After leaving the brook, which turns aside too far to the south, we ascended and descended naked hills for several miles, the prospect gradually becoming more and more gloomy. Not a house, nor even a tree, is to be seen; and the only remains are those of a large khan, said to have been the inn to which the good Samaritan brought the wounded Jew. Not far from here, in a narrow defile, an English traveler was attacked, shot, and robbed in 1820. As you approach the plain, the mountains wear a more doleful appearance, the ravines become more frightful, and the narrow passages less and less passable. At length the weary pilgrim reaches the plain by a long, steep declivity, and doubtless expects to step immediately into Jericho. But alas! no city appears, and after a full hour's ride he pitches his tent (if he have one) in a dry, sultry plain of sand, sparsely sprinkled over with burnt-up grass. If he have no tent, a shriveled thorn bush is better than nothing; and if he cannot get that, let him do as we did — sit down under the burning sun, and bear it as well as he can.
Finding it intolerably hot, we passed through the camp, and went on to the village, about a mile distant, and took shelter under some fig-trees which grew around the sheikh's palace, a square, castle-like house — the only one of any size in the place, and where, tradition says, the little Zaccheus once dwelt. In the immediate vicinity are some forty or fifty of the most forlorn habitations that I have ever seen.
Jericho
And this is Jericho! These houses, or rather huts, are surrounded by a peculiar kind of fortification, made of nubk, a species of bush very abundant in the plain. Its thorns are so sharp and the branches are so plaited together that neither horse nor man will attack it.
The Arabs of Jericho and the plain are many shades darker than the same class on the mountains only a few miles distant. This is easily accounted for by the great difference in climate. We shivered in our cloaks upon the hills, and broiled in the shade on the plain.
Associations With Jericho
After looking about the village, and riding a mile or two to the northwest to see the great fountain 'Ain es Sultan, we returned to the camp about sunset for protection. Having sung “The voice of free grace,” and “There is a land of pure delight,” we wrapped our cloaks about us and prepared to sleep; but the scenes of the day and the circumstances with which we were surrounded were too novel and exciting to allow of sleep. East and west of us, in parallel lines, stretched the mountains of Moab and Palestine like perpendicular walls reared to heaven by the Creator to guard this favored spot. At our feet flowed the Jordan, the most interesting river on earth; a little to the south slept in mysterious silence the bitter waters of the Dead Sea; while underneath were the mouldering ruins of old Jericho, whose walls fell prostrate at the blast of Israel's priests. What an assemblage of interesting objects! How well calculated to awaken deep and solemn reflection! Here the swellings of the Jordan rolled back, that Israel's chosen race might take possession of the promised land; and thus, “when on Jordan's stormy banks we stand,” if the Ark of God be there, the angry billows shall flee away at the presence of Him who hath said, “When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee” (Isa. 43:2). Here, too, the smitten Jordan parted hither and thither when the prophet of the Lord went over to be carried to the skies in a chariot of fire. We drink of the fountain which was sweetened by Elisha's cruse of salt. Here, also, our blessed Savior was baptized, the heavens were opened, the Spirit descended upon him in the form of a dove, and the voice from the Father said, “This is my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.” O ye guilty cities of the plain! even here do ye lie sealed up unto the judgment day, “suffering the vengeance of eternal fire.” Tremble, O my soul, lest thou be overthrown and consumed with that fire which shall never be quenched, and be cast into that other lake of which this is such a solemn type.
Morning March of Pilgrims
About three o'clock in the morning there was a buzz in the camp, which in a short time became like the “noise of many waters,” and at four precisely we set forward toward the Jordan, going to the southeast. A large company of guards went before, bearing on long poles flaming torches made of turpentine and old rags, which threw over the plain a brilliant light, revealing double ranks of armed horsemen on either side of the host, careering in genuine Arab style, and plunging with fearless impetuosity through the grass and bushes to drive out any Bedawin that might be lurking there. The governor, with his body-guard, brought up the rear, and thus we were defended on all sides. Nor was this caution misplaced. One poor fellow from Poland, having fallen behind, was attacked, robbed, and stripped naked.
Pilgrims Bathing
After a two hours’ ride over an uneven plain, we reached the Jordan as the sun rose above the mountains of Moab. Immediately the pilgrims rushed headlong into the stream — men, women, and children — in one undistinguished mass. The haughty Turk sat upon his beautiful horse, and looked in scorn upon this exposure of the “Christian dogs.” The pilgrims, however, were highly delighted with their bath. The men ducked the women somewhat as the farmers do their sheep, while the little children were carried and plunged under water, trembling like so many lambs. Some had water poured on their heads, in imitation of the baptism of the Savior; for it is part of the tradition that our blessed Lord was here baptized, and the ruins of an old convent near at hand ascertain the exact locality to the perfect satisfaction of the devout pilgrim. The Latins, however, maintain that the event took place higher up the stream, and hence they bathe there. I hope they have a more convenient place than the Greeks. It could scarcely be more unsuitable. The banks are nearly perpendicular, and very muddy, while the current is astonishingly rapid, and at least ten feet deep. It required the most expert swimmers to cross it, and one less skilled must inevitably be carried away, as we had melancholy proof. Two Christians and a Turk, who ventured too far, were drowned without the possibility of rescue; and the wonder is that many more did not share the same fate where thousands were bathing at once. This sad accident, which would have cast a shade over the whole assembly in America, produced very little sensation among the pilgrims. In fact, this pilgrimaging seems to obliterate every benevolent feeling from the heart. When we left Jerusalem, the guard immediately in front of me, in careering and curveting with his horse, fired a pistol, and shot a woman dead, and yet I never heard the affair mentioned afterward but with levity. As we came along, if any poor woman fell from her horse, and rolled down among the rocks, it called forth only loud laughter from the passing crowd.
Insignificant Appearance of the Jordan
The Jordan would scarcely be dignified with the name of River in America, and its appearance is, in reality, quite insignificant. It is, however, deep, narrow, and very muddy, and hurries away to the sea with great velocity. In approaching the river, you descend several benches or terraces; and, though much swollen with the rains and the melting snows of Lebanon at that time, it was still fifteen or twenty feet below its proper banks. It has also a very winding course, and resembles the streams of the Mississippi Valley, having on one side a perpendicular bluff, and on the opposite a low beach covered with weeds, bushes, and drift, and these alternate constantly. These low flats vary in width. At the bathing-place it was about twenty rods wide, and the whole of it had recently been inundated. These are the banks that were flooded when the Israelites passed over. Nor was the miracle unnecessary. It would be impossible for such a host to cross the Jordan at the same season of the year without either a bridge or a miracle, for boats could do nothing in such a current, and it is too deep to ford. Travelers have differed widely in their description of the Jordan, principally from two causes — visiting it at different seasons of the year, and at different places. When and where I saw it, the width might have been twenty yards, and its depth ten feet.
Dead Sea
After the pilgrims had bathed, we left them, and turned down to the south, with three or four English travelers and a guard from the governor, to visit the Dead Sea; and having ridden across plains of barren sand for an hour and a half, we stood upon the shore of this memorable lake. Without any reference to what others have said, I can testify to the following facts: The water is perfectly clear and transparent. The taste is bitter and salt, far beyond that of the ocean. It acts upon the tongue and mouth like alum; smarts in the eye like camphor; produces a burning, pricking sensation; and it stiffens the hair of the head much like pomatum. The water has a much greater specific gravity than the human body, and hence I did not sink lower than to the arms when standing perpendicularly in it. Although there is evidence in the sand and brushwood thrown upon the beach that in great storms there are waves, still there is some foundation for the reports about its immobility. There was a considerable breeze, yet the water lay perfectly calm and motionless. We saw no fish nor living animals in the water, though birds were flying over it unharmed. All of us noticed an unnatural gloom, not upon the sea only, but also over the whole plain below Jericho. This, too, is mentioned by ancient historians. It had the appearance of Indian summer in America, and, like a vast funeral pall let down from heaven, it hung heavily over the lifeless bosom of this mysterious lake. Having gathered some curious pebbles from the shore, and filled our cans with the water, we returned to the camp about noon, highly pleased with our excursion.
’Ain Es Sultan
In the afternoon we visited again 'Ain es Sultan. This fountain rises at the base of a hill which has the appearance of an Indian mound, though rather too large for a work of art. But there are many similar tells in the plain, and they were probably thrown up for the same purpose as those which are so numerous in America. The water is sufficiently abundant to turn a large mill, is beautifully transparent, sweet, and cool, and swarms with small fish. There seems to be no reason to doubt the tradition that this is the identical fountain whose bitter waters Elisha healed.
Apple of Sodom
On the margin of this delightful brook grow great numbers of bushes, bearing a yellow apple, about the size and having very much the appearance, of a small apricot — beautiful to the eye, but nauseous to the taste, and said to be poisonous. I can do as others have done before me — inquire. Is this the apple of Sodom?
Mount Quarantania
Directly west, at the distance of a mile and a half, is the high and precipitous mountain called Quarantania, from a tradition that our Savior here fasted forty days and nights, and also that this is the “high mountain” from whose top the tempter exhibited “all the kingdoms of the world, and the glory of them.” The side facing the plain is as perpendicular, and apparently as high as the rock of Gibraltar, and upon the very summit are still visible the ruins of an ancient convent. Midway below are caverns hewn in the perpendicular rock, where hermits formerly retired to fast and pray in imitation of the “forty days”; and it is said that even at the present time there is to be found an occasional Copt or Abyssinian languishing out his quarantania in this doleful place. We found it, however, inhabited only by Bedawin, several of whom made their appearance, well armed, many hundred feet above us. Leaving the company here, I struck southward across the plain, in order to look for the site of ancient Jericho. It appeared to me highly probable that the original city took in the great fountain 'Ain es Sultan, as there was nothing to prevent it, and, if left without the walls, an enemy could compel them to surrender by cutting off their supply of water. Accordingly, the plain to the south and southwest of the fountain is covered in many parts with very ancient remains.
There are evidences of walls stretching in different directions, and many indications of decayed buildings. The rocks are black and honey-combed, and the walls can only be traced by continuous elevations of the turf, with an occasional bit of foundation appearing through the grass. Whether these mark the site of old Jericho, of course, cannot at present be decided, but they are evidently more ancient than the ruins of Tyre or of Caesarea, and there are no others visible in this vicinity.
April 18th.
Camp of the Pilgrims
Spent the first part of the night in walking about the camp. The scene was very picturesque. Spread abroad over the plain lay men, women, and children, of almost every nation under heaven, of all languages, every variety of costume, and of all colors, from the black of Africa to the white of Poland. All denominations of this sectarian world were there — Mohammedans, Druses, Maronites, Catholics, Greeks, Armenians, Copts, Syrians, Jews, Episcopalians, Lutherans, Presbyterians, Methodists, and infidels, in one vast congregation — faint image of that great congregation when the trumpet shall sound and wake the dead. The camp did not become quiet at all, and about midnight everything was again set in motion. We hastily mounted our animals to keep from being trampled under foot, and, falling into a line with a long train of lights, set forward toward the narrow pass down which we came at first. A similar line of torches, about a mile to the south, marked out the course of another division of the host.
Movements by Night
The night was exceedingly dark, and, as we approached the defile leading up the mountain, the confusion became horrible — women screaming in terror, when about to be trampled down by a long line of camels coupled together; parents calling for their children; friends hallooing for friends; muleteers beating and cursing their animals, to force them up the steep rocks; those above calling to those below; while the guards, stationed upon projecting rocks, kept up a constant discharge of musketry, whose lurid glare and hollow reverberations down the deep ravines startled the “leaden ear of night,” and rendered sublime what would otherwise have been ridiculous. After we were fairly up the mountain we came in view of the southern division, and the prospect was grand beyond description. For miles the long train of torches rose and sunk in graceful curves, corresponding to the hills and vales over which they marched, while the same discharge of firearms continued with even magnified effect. In about an hour we united our lines, and hurried on to the Holy City, which we reached a little after sunrise, shivering with the cold wind of the mountains, but thankful that we had been permitted to perform this interesting tour with so much ease and safety.
Your account of the separation of parents and children in this returning host of pilgrims reminds me of the one single incident in the youthful life of our blessed Lord which is recorded in the New Testament (Luke 2:41-40). It is not, in fact, surprising that, in the midst of such a crowd, Joseph and his mother should suppose that Jesus was in the company with his “kinsfolk and acquaintance”; nor is the time that elapsed before they became so alarmed at his absence as to turn back and search for him at all remarkable. I question whether there is ever a pilgrimage made from Jerusalem to the Jordan at this day without the separation of parents and children equally prolonged; and, in the case we are considering, it was the absence of a youth who, his parents well knew, had never done in his whole life one unwise or improper act. They would not, therefore, be easily alarmed on his account.
Passage of the Israelites
Among the stupendous miracles that have rendered this neighborhood illustrious, the most wonderful and the most suggestive was the passage of the Hebrew nation through the Jordan to their promised inheritance. The twelve stones that bore witness to the fact have long since disappeared, and even the precise spot where the passage was made is a matter of dispute; and in view of the superstitious abuses to which such sites are perverted, I am quite contented to have them all thus hidden, as was the sepulcher of Moses. We have the hills of Moab on the other side; the river itself that was divided; the sea into which the water, cut off from above, subsided; and Jericho, over against which the grand miracle was performed: and these are enough for the confirmation of our faith; nor would I walk a mile or turn a stone to make the identification any closer or more perfect. There is an incidental allusion, however, in the account of the miracle, which infidels have employed to throw discredit on the entire narrative, and even upon the Bible itself, and which it is highly proper that we should explain if we can.
Overflow of the Jordan
It is said in Joshua 3:15 that “Jordan overfloweth all his banks all the time of harvest.” This is the statement, and the objections against its accuracy and truthfulness are, that the Jordan is a short and rapid river which soon runs down, and that, therefore, it could not have overflowed all its banks in harvest, for the rains have entirely ceased, and the tributaries of the river have dried up; and this plausible reasoning is strengthened and confirmed by the unqualified assertion that the Jordan does not overflow its banks at all, not even in the rainy season.
To meet and refute these injurious assertions, various suppositions and suggestions have been put forward by the friends of revelation. It has been maintained that the channel of the river has been deepened since the time of Joshua — and this is indeed very probable; and again, that from various causes, less water now falls upon the country of the Jordan than did anciently, and that the rains cease earlier in the spring — and this may possibly be true, and, if there were any need of such hypothetical assistance to establish the veracity of the sacred historian, we should not hesitate to employ it for what it is worth, but I am persuaded that the matter in question needs no such aid. It is a plain, honest statement of a simple fact, as literally true now as it was when Joshua led the ransomed tribes into Canaan. All we need in order to clear the passage from obscurity or doubt is an adequate acquaintance with the phenomena of the country and the river. Let us subject the passage and the scenery to a careful scrutiny and analysis, and we shall find that here, as in a thousand other places, the Land illustrates and confirms the Book.
Time of Harvest
The river overflows during harvest; but where was the harvest spoken of, and what is the time of it? These inquiries are strictly essential. I visited the scene of this miracle on the 1St of April, and found barley harvest about Jericho already ended. I also found the river full to the brim, and saw evidence in abundance that it had overflowed its banks very recently. Harvest in the vale of the Lower Jordan comes on about the middle of March. This seems early, and it is long before the crops are ready for the sickle on the neighboring mountains, or even around the fountains of the Upper Jordan. But the reason is obvious. The valley at Jericho is thirteen hundred feet below the level of the ocean, is sheltered from cold winds on all sides by mountains of great height, and is open to the warm southern breezes from the deeper basin of the Dead Sea. It has therefore the climate of the tropics, though in the latitude of Jerusalem.
The Jordan Fed by Fountains
Still, the rains are over, and most of the tributary streams have dwindled down to inconsiderable rills, even at this early season of the year, and how comes it, therefore, that the Jordan alone is full to overflowing? This is easily explained.
Fountains of the Jordan
The Jordan does not depend upon tributaries for its steady supply of water, but is almost wholly formed and fed by certain great fountains, which arise far north, around the base of snowy Hermon. The largest of these is called El Leddan, at Tell el Kady; the next in size is at Banias. These are the two great sources mentioned by Josephus under the names Greater and Lesser Jordan. The one from Tell el Kady is about three times as large RS that from Banias, and its course is south, a little west, through the plain of the Hûleh, for about five miles, where it is joined by the Baniasy, and, in less than a mile further south, by the Hasbāny. The Jordan is thus formed by the union of these three rivers, and, winding southward through extensive marshes, flows into Lake Hûleh — the Merom of Joshua. The Hasbāny is a beautiful river, whose furthest permanent source is near Hasbeiya, some eighteen miles north of Tell El Kady. The torrents from Wady et Teim greatly augment its size in the rainy season, but it depends for its permanent volume of water upon three fountains: the Fuarr, at Hasbeîya; the Sareid, below Kafr Shubah; and the Luisany, at El Ghujar. To complete the account of the sources of the Jordan, the fountains of Derdara, in Merj Aiun, and the Ruahiny, must be mentioned, and also those of Blata and El Mellahah. We need not pause to notice the River Jermuk, nor the fountains which flow directly into the different lakes. Those we have named are sufficient for the purpose of our illustration. The Jordan is thus made up from the joint contributions of great permanent springs, and in this fact we find the explanation of the overflow of the river so late in the season as March.
Lateness of the Overflow
These immense fountains do not feel the effects of the early winter rains at all. It requires the heavy and long-continued storms of mid-winter before they are moved in the least; and it is not until toward the close of winter, when the melting snows of Hermon and Lebanon, with the heavy rains of the season, have penetrated through the mighty masses of these mountains, and filled to overflowing their hidden chambers and vast reservoirs, that the streams gush forth in their full volume. The Mûleh — marsh and lake — is filled, and then Gennesaret rises, and pours its accumulated waters into the swelling Jordan about the 1St of March. Thus it comes to pass that it does actually “overflow all its banks during all the time of harvest”; nor does it soon subside, as other short rivers do, when the rains cease, These fountains continue to pour forth their contributions for months with undiminished volume, and the river keeps full and strong all through March into April, and the proper banks of the river are still full to overflowing in the time of harvest.
Two Aeries of Banks
To understand the passage correctly, we must also remember that Jordan has two series of banks, and in some places three, but it is the lower only which are overflowed, either now or at any former period within the history of man; and to these the reference in Joshua is unquestionably made. The low flat, or river bottom, thus inundated is nowhere wide, and is generally covered with a thick jungle of willow, sycamore, and other trees.
Swellings of Jordan
It was from these thickets that “the swellings of Jordan,” in ancient days, expelled the lion from his lair: a poetic allusion, which bears incidental testimony to the historic statement. At present there are no lions to be roused; but the wild boar, the jackal, and the wolf occupy his place, and, like him, flee before the swellings of this river.
Change of Times
I think it not improbable that the rise and fall of the Jordan are, in reality, somewhat earlier now and more rapid than in the days of Joshua. The cutting off of the forests of Lebanon and Hermon may cause the snows to dissolve sooner; and the clearing away much of the marshes at the head of the Hûleh allows the floods a quicker passage, and thus the river may be at its height, in ordinary seasons, a few days sooner than was the case three thousand years ago. It is nearly certain, also, that the channel of the Jordan has deepened, and especially near the Dead Sea, so that the extent of the overflow may now be less than then, and of shorter duration. But, without referring to these circumstances, the preceding facts and explanations are sufficient to establish the accuracy of the statement in Joshua, that the “Jordan overfloweth all his banks all the time of harvest.”
It will be easy for us to overtake the company while they are climbing the long ascent out of the valley of the Jordan, and therefore we may linger an hour on this hill, to study the features of this melancholy but eminently interesting scene.
Palm-Trees
Jericho was called “the city of palm-trees,” but the one only palm that a quarter of a century ago stood, like a solitary sentinel, near the old tower is gone, and thus has passed away the last vestige of that great forest which gave name to the city. The forest, however, might be restored, and then the best dates would again come from Jericho.
Fruitfulness of Soil
The soil and climate are admirably adapted to this tree, and, indeed, there is nothing required but cultivation and irrigation to make the whole plain of the Lower Jordan fruitful as the garden of the Lord. Such it will certainly become at no very distant day. Every acre of it might be watered from the strong brook in Wady Kelt, from this great fountain Es Sultan, from those of Wady Dick, and from the Jordan itself.
Resources of the Jordan Valley
This river winds incessantly, falls everywhere rapidly, and has about thirty distinct cascades. Here is unappropriated water-power to drive any amount of machinery, and elevation sufficient to allow every part of this valley to be irrigated at all times of the year. Thus treated, and subjected to the science and the modem mechanical appliances in agriculture, the valley of the Jordan could sustain half a million of inhabitants. Cotton, rice, sugarcane, indigo, and nearly every other valuable product for the use of man, would flourish most luxuriantly. There were, in fact, sugar plantations hero long before America was discovered; and it is quite possible that this plant was taken from this very spot to Tripoli, and thence to Spain by the Crusaders, from whence it was carried to the West Indies. Those edifices to the west of 'Ain es Sultan are the remains of ancient sugar-mills, and are still called Towahîn es Sukkar. They seem to have been driven by a canal brought along the base of Quarantania from Wady Dûk.
Thorn-Trees
Now how desolate and barren! Just around 'Ain es Sultan, and between it and Riha, the plain is covered with a forest of thorn-trees; but look elsewhere, and the eye aches from the glare of naked sand fields glowing beneath a burning sun.
Many of these thorn bushes through which we have been carefully picking our way are the zŭkŭm.
Balm of Gilead
This bush looks like a crab apple-tree, and bears a small nut, from which a kind of liquid balsam is made, and sold by the monks as the balm of Gilead, so famous in ancient times. I purchased a phial of it when on my first visit to the Jordan with the pilgrims, but could not discover that it possessed any particular medicinal virtues. And now we must cross this Wady Kelt, and begin to climb the mountain. In the winter this is a powerful stream, and the remnants of aqueducts in several places show that the inhabitants once knew how to employ its fertilizing powers upon the desert of the Jordan and Dead Sea.
I notice traces of ancient structures on each side of the wady, and some of them were made with small stones, cut and fitted into the wall like tesselated pavement. We have nowhere else seen any such buildings.
It is, in fact, the only specimen of the kind. This must always have been a pass of great importance, and hence these mounds and old castles in front of it. The one nearest the pass is called 'Akabet ed Deir. Turn now and take your last view of the Jordan, as it loses itself in the bitter waters of the Dead Sea. Captain Lynch says, that a short distance above the sea it was forty yards wide and twelve feet deep; then fifty yards wide and eleven feet deep; then eighty yards by seven feet; and, finally, one hundred yards and only three feet deep upon the bar. Thus this sweet type of life subsides into the Sea of Death, and is lost forever.
I have still some inquiries to make about the Dead Sea, and we may as well while away this fatiguing climb and this desolate road by discussing them.
Gorge of Wady Kelt
Allow me first to call your attention to this gorge of Wady Kelt, on the right of the path. It is grand, wild, and stern, almost beyond a parallel.
Do you suppose that this is the Cherith to which Elijah was sent to be fed by ravens?
Cherith?
The name favors the opinion, but not so the situation. It is far from the prophet's usual abode, and in returning back again to Sarepta he would be obliged to pass through the kingdom of his enemy — which would certainly be a long and critical journey. The brook itself, however, is admirably adapted to the purpose for which Elijah retired to it; and there come sailing down the tremendous gorge a family of ravens, to remind us that God can feed his people by means the most unlikely. And now for your inquiries about the Dead Sea.
They refer rather to the south end of it, and concern particularly the ideation of the cities of the plain which were destroyed. All agree that Sodom and her associated towns were around the south end of this sea, and since the exploration of Lynch and others it has appeared very probable that the shallow part, which is some fifteen miles long, was originally a plain on which the cities stood, and that this plain was submerged at the time they were overthrown.
Dead Sea — Former State
Admitting this to be true, or at least probable, how are we to understand what is said of the fertility of that region in the time when Lot chose it for his residence? “It was well watered everywhere, before the Lord destroyed Sodom and Gomorrah, even as the garden of the Lord, like the land of Egypt, as thou comest unto Zoar” (Gen. 13:10). Lot resided at the south end of the Dead Sea, and it seems to be implied that the land there belonged to the valley of the Jordan, was watered by that river, and that therefore it was immensely fertile.
And such, I think, was the fact. The River Jordan begins in the valleys of Hermon, and terminates in this sea; and it is my opinion that, until the destruction of Sodom, this was a fresh-water lake, and that its character was changed at that time by the obtrusion from below of rock salt and other volcanic products, which have rendered it so extremely bitter and nauseous. The evidences of such action and obtrusion are to be seen in the ridge of rock salt called Usdum, at the south end of the sea, and in the presence of naphtha and bitumen in its waters. The lake being originally shorter by the length of these plains of Sodom and Gomorrah, would necessarily rise much higher during the rainy season than it does now; and the water being fresh, it would subside by evaporation, and perhaps by irrigation, much more rapidly than at present, though there is a much greater rise and fall in this sea than was formerly supposed. This great southern extension is thirteen feet deep in winter, but late in autumn it is only three, and is then forded, not only by camels, but even by donkeys. Now for my specific answer to your inquiry.
Southern Plain Flooded
I suppose that this southern plain on which the cities stood was actually flooded by fresh water during the rise of the lake, just as the Nile floods the land of Egypt “as thou comest unto Zoar” (Gen. 13:10); and that when the water subsided the whole plain was sown, just as Egypt was and is. There are many examples of this operation about smaller lakes and ponds; and places thus overflowed are the most productive in the country.
Fertility of the Plain Explained
We have only to suppose that the inhabitants knew how to control the rising of the lake by embankments, as the Egyptians did the Nile, and the whole mystery about the fertility of this plain is explained. It seems to me nearly certain that, if this had been then a salt sea, the whole territories of those cities must have been about as blasted and barren as are the desolate shores at present; which would be in flat contradiction to the statement in Genesis. The obtrusion of rock salt at Usdum must, therefore, have been subsequent to, or, rather, it accompanied the catastrophe. I have not examined this matter at the place itself, but I have seen no statement which would render such an obtrusion a geological impossibility, while instances of the submergence of tracts much larger than this plain are well ascertained historical facts.
Of course, the old and rather taking theory, that the Jordan, before the destruction of Sodom, ran through Wady 'Arabah to the Gulf of 'Akabah, must be abandoned. This would demand geological changes, reaching from the Lake of Tiberias to the Red Sea, too stupendous to have occurred within the period of man's residence upon the earth. Still, this grand chasm, valley, or crevasse, running, as it does, between the two Lebanons, through the whole length of the Jordan, and along the 'Arabah to the Elanitic Gulf, and even down that gulf itself into the Red Sea, is among the most remarkable phenomena of our globe; and it is not certain to my mind but that there was at one time a water communication throughout this long and unbroken depression.
How do you account for the nauseous and malignant character of the water of the Dead Sea?
This is owing to the extraordinary amount of mineral salts held in solution. The analyzes of chemists, however, show very different results. Some give only seventy parts of water to the hundred, while others give eighty, or even more. I account for these differences by supposing that the specimens analyzed are taken at different seasons of the year, and at different distances from the Jordan. Water brought from near the mouth of that river might be comparatively fresh, and that taken in winter from any part would be less salt and bitter than what was brought away in autumn.
Analysis of Dead Sea Water
One analysis shows, chloride of sodium, 8; potassium, 1; calcium, 3. The very last I have seen gives calcium, 24/5; chloride of magnesium, 10½; of potassium, 1⅓; of sodium, 6½. The specific gravity may average about 1200, that of distilled water being 1000. This, however, will vary according to the time and the place from whence the specimens are taken.