Among the travellers England, of course, was the most fully represented; the French are less frequent, among whom, however, I must mention the kindly scholar Ampère, who, as he told me, is going to remain several months in the country, in order to improve his Egyptian studies.[102]But German countrymen are also not wanting, and at the end of the year we had the pleasure of seeing the Licentiate Strauss, son of the Court Chaplain at Berlin, enter our dwelling with his cousin Dr. Krafft. We were just about commencing our simple Sunday service, which I myself conduct since the departure of our dear friend and former preacher of the wilderness, Abeken, at Philae. I immediately yielded up to one of the two reverend gentlemen what was much more fitting for them than for me, and, as it happened that we had with us the sermons of both the fathers of our dear guests, one of them was chosen for the day. Almost at the same period, Herr Seufferheld and Dr. Bagge, from Frankfort,visited us, and soon after our friend Dr. Schledehaus, from Alexandria, and also the Austrian painter, Herr Sattler; and when M.M. Strauss and Krafft visited us on their return, they met four other guests, M.M. Tamm, Stamm, and Schwab, and the assessor Von Rohr, of Berlin. Twelve Germans sat at our table to-day, among them nine Prussians.
Upon the Red Sea, betweenGebel Zeit and Tôr.Good Friday, March 21, 1845.
Ourship lies motionless on the water, in sight of the distant coast of Tôr, which we hoped to have reached last night. I take pen and paper in hand, to quiet the most dreadful impatience, which is caused by an unbearable calm under a hot sun, in a vessel only intended for packages.
On the 20th of February we crossed from Thebes from the west to the east shore from Qurna to Karnak. Here we settled ourselves in some of the rooms of the great temple; as I hoped, however, to travel, if possible, to the peninsula of Sinai, so I restricted myself to the most necessary examination of the monuments, in order to arrange the work during my absence.
On the 3rd of March I set off. The younger Weidenbach accompanied me, to assist me in the necessary drawings; besides him I took with me our interpreter Jussuf, thekhawass, Ibrahîm Aga, Gabre Máriam, and two more servants. We sailed down the Nile as far as Qeneh. When it became dark and the stars appeared, the till then lively conversation flagged, and, lying on the deck, I watched the star Isis and the sparkling Sothis (Sirius), those pole-stars of Egyptian chronology, as they gradually passed over our heads. Our two boatmenwere only inclined to be too musical, and shouted out their whole treasury of songs, with an eternal repetition, only interrupted occasionally by the short call,sherk,gharb(east, west), which was answered by the obedient, soft, boy’s voice of our little steersman. Half waking, half dreaming, we glided down the stream till toward midnight; even the Arabian din ceased, the stroke of the oars became weaker, and at last our boat was left entirely to the waves. The rising of the moon’s last quarter, and the grey dawn of day, first roused us to fresh exertion.
We arrived in good time at Qeneh, where we were most hospitably received at the house of the illustrious Seid Hussên. This is the important personage through whom we send and receive all our letters, and who has rendered himself highly esteemed by us on this account. He and his two sons were highly serviceable to us, by the innumerable preparations which were necessary for our hasty departure into the desert. In the meantime, I was delighted by the patriarchal customs which governed this most worthy family. All business was carried on here in the open air, as it is in all Eastern countries, and mostly in the streets. Before each house is a long divan, another in the room, friends come, salute shortly, seat themselves almost unnoticed, and the business continues. To important guests coffee is served, or the long pipe is presented; slaves stand round ready on the slightest sign. Humble acquaintances kiss the hand of the master of the house, even if they only pass by, all serious and quiet without pathos, but with the usual sometimes long murmured salutations. Should there beno more room on the divan, or should it be occupied by more important persons, the new comers crouch down on the ground beside it. Every one gets up and goes when he likes, and what particularly struck us, without taking leave in any way, notwithstanding the forms of salutation are so long. The master of the house will also leave his guests without the slightest notice, if it be not a noble visitor, which, when such happens, binds you often for a long time to the uniform, and generally empty conversation. This domestic life in the streets, which the old Greeks and Romans used in a greater or less extent, and which is so different from our office-and-room life, agrees with the whole Oriental character. The appearance of each is always proper, attentive to everything that happens, complaisant and obliging. In good families, like this, there is, beside, a beautiful and real principle and example of family piety. The old Hussên is above seventy, tall, with a white beard; yet, notwithstanding his age, is an active participator in all that is passing, and most friendly to everybody. The two sons are nearly fifty, and carry on the business. They treat the old man with the greatest respect. Both are great smokers, but they never smoke in the presence of their father, this would be looked upon as a want of the proper respect due to him; they lay the pipe down as soon as he enters. In the evening, after supper, when the want of the pipe would be too great a punishment, they seat themselves outside the door to smoke; whilst we, as guests, sit with the old man in the room, and they only take part in the conversation through the door.
On the evening before our departure, we visited a factory of the celebratedqullehs(cooling-vessels) of which every year 200,000 are made, and also the field whence the clay is taken used in their formation. It is only onefeddan(160 square rods) in size.
On the 6th of March we left Qeneh with fifteen camels, after two days’ stay. The first day we only rode three hours, as far as the charming well Bir Ambar, lying among the palms, which has been supplied by Ibrahim Pasha with a domed building, for the caravans. The second encampment at the station Leqêta, was soon reached on the following day. The old road to Kossêr from Koptos, the present Quft, the hills of which we saw to the right in the distance, leads first to the mountains El Qorn, (the horns). In their vicinity we first came down into the broad road-way of Kossêr, and reached Leqêta after a sixteen hours’ march, when the roads from Qeneh, Quft, (Koptos), Qûs (the ancient[Koptic], orApollinopolis parva), and a fourth, leading directly from Luqsor, all unite. Five wells give tolerable water there; two half-formed buildings are destined for the reception of travellers.
Here I observed a trait of Arab hospitality which I must mention. At the parting meal in Qeneh, a fresh draught of the well-tasted Nile-water was handed me in a gilt goblet, elegantly ornamented with pious passages from the Koran. The simple yet pleasing form of the segment of a ball pleased me, and I told old Hussên so without expecting the answer: “The goblet is thine.” As I had nothing with me to give in return, I passed over the politeness, repeatedly declining the gift, and letting the cup remain without further remark. When I wentto rest at night, I found it at my bedside, but gave express orders not to pack it up the next morning. We departed, and I did not open my travelling-bag until we reached Leqêta. How astonished was I, when my first glance again fell upon the carefully-packed goblet. Gabre Máriam had closed my luggage, and he confessed, on my angry question as to how the cup had come there against my order, that he had placed it there at the particular desire of old Seid Hussên. Now I was finally beaten, and had to think of some gift for my return.
We set out the same night from Leqêta, and rode three hours forward to an old, now little used, and waterless station at the Gebel Maáuad. Our Arabs of the Ag’aïze tribe, are not so animated as the Abâbde or Bisharūn, and their camels are worse.
Beyond Gebel Maáuad, we entered the hilly sand-plain Qsûr el Benat, and then again behind another pass, the plain Reshrashi. At the end of them to the left, rises the Gebel Abu Gûeh, on which we turned our backs, and passed round the corner of a rock, on the sandstone walls of which I found the cartouches of the sun-worshipper Amenophis IV. and his queen, with the shining sun[103]sculpturedover them. Their names were partly erased as everywhere else, although the king had not then assumed the name of Bech-en-aten. Toward noon we entered the mountain, and in three quarters of an hour we arrived at the well Hamamât.
Here there seems to have been an ancient Koptic colony, and the broad wall built down to the depth of nearly eighty feet, in which a winding stair leads to the bottom, is still ascribed by the Arabs to the Nazâra, the Christians. The ancient quarries, our next goal, were distant about half an hour from the well.
In a spacious grotto, covered with Greek and Roman inscriptions, I established my principal quarters; as a cursory view amply demonstrated that we had several days’ work before us. The ancient Egyptians, who were great admirers and excellent connoisseurs of the different sorts of stone, had here found a layer of precious green breccia, and beside that, fine dark-coloured veins of granite, which had already been exhausted under the sixth dynasty in the beginning of the thirtieth centuryB.C.Since that time, numerous inscriptions have been found on the surrounding rocks. Among these some of the Persian rule are particularly worthy of note. The hieroglyphical cartouches of Cambyses, Darius, Xerxes, and Artaxerxes, are almost solely known from hence, and a royal high architect of the dynasty of the Psammetici has given his family-tree in no less than twenty-three generations, who, without a single exception, all occupied the same important post, and partly in connection with considerable sacerdotal offices. At the top of the long list is an ancestress, who must have lived seven hundredyears before the last link of the chain. A great number of Greek proscynemata also lead us to the conclusion that the quarries were used even in the Greek and Roman time. We were engaged for five days from an early hour till late in the evening in these impressions and copies, to the great astonishment of the small caravans that passed almost every day, as the great pilgrim-road from Upper Egypt, and a great part of the Sudan leads through this valley to Kossêr and Mekka.
My purpose had originally been to have gone from Qeneh to Kossêr, and thence embark for Tôr. But as the passage takes a long time, I was very glad to learn at Qeneh, that there is also a way from Hamamât through the midst of the mountains to Gebel Zeït, opposite Tôr. I therefore determined to pursue this difficult, but more interesting and shorter way. At the same time I sent a courier on to Kossêr, to send a ship immediately to Gebel Zeït, to wait our arrival.
In Hamamât I had still to stand a heavy row with the Arabs, who had suddenly taken a decided dislike to the little-known and almost waterless route, and who would rather have conducted us along the shore by way of Kossêr. But as it was important for me to visit certain ancient quarries in the depth of the mountains, I threatened to write to the Pasha if they did not keep their word, and made them answerable for all mischances. In this way I brought my plan to bear, after much hesitation. But it was nearly wrecked; for by the negligence of our cook, who had left vinegar standing in copper pots, we were almost poisoned the evening before our departure. However after awretched night, we got over it, and went off from Hamamât on the 13th of March.
We had taken six full water-pots with us for Qeneh; the camel-drivers were worse off, and were obliged to thirst a great deal. Besides our old trustworthy leader Selâm, I had brought another guide Selîm from Qeneh, who was said to know the mountainous region between Hamamât and Gebel Zeït very well, although he had only gone once over the ground twelve years before. Under his guidance we arrived in two days at Gebel Fatîreh. After much trouble and a great deal of seeking, we found the remains of the ancient colony, who had here worked a fine black and white granite. Hence, however, the conductor’s ignorance became apparent in many ways. We arrived on the evening of the 15th of March at a high ridge, on the rocky ground of which we were obliged to pass the night, as no tent could be erected. The next day, Palm Sunday, we suddenly came early to a steep precipice, which sinks down to the depth of 800 feet between the two chains of the Munfîeh mountains. It seemed impossible to cross the precipitous and dangerous path with a caravan. The Arabs protested in a body against every attempt to do so, and broke out into the most violent imprecations against Selîm. He was now in a critical position. He was evidently unacquainted with the difficulties of the way; the passable roads lead, of course, at a great distance, either by Nech êl Delfe to the east, or by Shaib el Benât to the west. To have taken one of thesetwo routes would have cost us at least two more days, and as we had lost much time at Gebel Fatîreh, we should have come into the greater danger of a want of water, as our provision had been very scantily reckoned, and we had only one well to expect between Hamamât and Gebel Zeït, which was said to be by Gebel Dochân. I therefore gave orders and (notwithstanding the most violent opposition) succeeded in having all the camels unladen at the top, and the whole of the baggage carried down on the shoulders of the Arabs. My own attendants had to set the example, and we all of us joined in the work. All the boxes and packages were transported singly from one rock to the other; this was most difficult to do with the great water-vessels, which could only be moved by three or four men at a time. Then the unloaded animals were carefully led down, and lo, the daring attempt succeeded without any misfortune or injury, under loud and hearty invocations of the holy camel-saint Abd el Qader. After three laborious hours everything was completed and the animals were reloaded.
Soon, however, we were to run into a far greater danger. I rode, as usually, before the caravan with Maximilian[104]and some attendants, and left the company to follow in my donkey’s track in the sand. Toward noon we saw to our left, the Gebel Dochân, “the smoke mountain,” rising dark blue behind the Munfîeh chain; and after some hours, when we emerged from the highermountains into a hilly but more open district, we perceived, for the first time, beyond the wide plain and the sea behind it, the far-distant mountains of Tôr, lying in a third quarter of the world, which we should soon enter upon.
After three o’clock we came to two Bedouin huts, made of mats, in which we found a woman and a bright-eyed brown-complexioned boy, who gave us some milk. The boy, on my question as to whether there were any old walls in the neighbourhood, led me to a solitary granite rock, surrounded by a rough but well-laid wall ten feet in height, about an hour distant. The square, of which the rock formed the Acropolis, was seventy paces long and sixty broad; the entrance from the south had two round half-towers, the same at the four corners, and in the middle of the three other sides. Within spaces were divided off, in the centre was a well of burnt bricks, but it was now filled up.[105]
According to the account of our guide, we were now in the neighbourhood of the water, which was understood to be only half a day’s journey from our last encampment. The sun, however, set without our having attained the desired goal. By the sparing light of a young moon, we at last entered a high pass, which Selîm assured us would conduct us to the well. We ascended for a long time between naked cliffs of granite; the moon set, no wells were to be seen, and the guideconfessed that he had missed the right valley. We were obliged to return. The same occurred in a second and third valley, to which the evidently confused guide had directed our steps, after several changes in our route. He excused himself on account of the uncertain light of the moon, and was certain that he should find the proper road at the dawn of day. Thus there was nothing for us to do but to lie down on the hard ground in our light and airy clothes, and seek to obtain a fitful slumber, without food, without water, for our bottles were long since empty, and the little store of four biscuits per man had long been eaten. Our only defence against the cold north wind consisted of a few camel-saddles. Thus we comforted ourselves, with the stars above us and the stones beneath.
As the morning dawned we mounted again. My donkey, who had drank his last spare draught of water twenty-four hours before, and who did not understand how to abstain like the camels, refused to proceed. Selîm, however, was in good spirits, and expected soon to be in the right path again. We discovered camel-tracks in great numbers. “But a little while,” exclaimed the guide, “and we shall be on the spot!” Our hopes were again animated.
Pretty variegated granite and porphyry blocks, which I perceived in the sand, were joyful tokens of the proximity of theMons porphyrites. In the mean time the broad valley, into which we had turned, got narrower and narrower, and divided into two arms, the right one of which we took.But this again divided, and the whole neighbourhood, according to former descriptions, showed us that we were again on a wrong track. To give our wearied animals some rest, I halted, and sent out the guide alone to find the right way. We encamped under the shadow of a cliff, hungry, and eager for a draught of water.
Our position grew critical. I began to doubt that our guide would succeed in discovering the well in these uniform desolate mountain passes. And where was our caravan? Had it found its way to the water? If they had followed the traces of our donkey as before, they must also have lost their way. We waited impatiently for Selîm; he could at any rate bring us back to the Arab huts, which we had seen the previous day. But one hour followed another; Selîm came not. The sun rose higher, and robbed of the slight shade of the rock where we had taken refuge, we sat silently on the burning stones. We dared not leave the spot, for fear of missing Selîm. Had he met with an accident, or had he so forgotten himself as only to think of his own safety, and to leave us to our fate, as had happened some years before to three Turks, who were never seen again, in the same wilderness! Or was Selîm too weak to return to us? He had almost always gone on foot, and must have been much more exhausted than ourselves.
From time to time we mounted the adjacent heights and fired our muskets,—all in vain! At last we were obliged to resign ourselves to the melancholy certainty that we should not see ourguide again. Noon had arrived after four hours of waiting, and also the time for departure, if the hope of reaching the Arab huts, about six hours distant from us, was to be accomplished. For it would have been fool-hardy to seek any longer for the well, as Selîm himself had not found it. Gebel Zeït, where our ship was lying, was three and a half days’ journey from us; the Nile on the other side of the mountain, five days’ journey; the camels had drunk nothing for four days, and the donkey was thoroughly weakened.
We therefore set out. My companion had done everything I had proposed; but never have I felt my responsibility for others, whose lives, together with my own, were in jeopardy, so heavily as in that hesitating resolve. It seemed foolhardy to travel in this totally uninhabited highland, already confused and even more put out of the way by our nocturnal windings without a guide, according to the stars; and yet there was nothing else to be done.
We determined, after much consultation, to ride back into the principal valley, which we had entered in the morning with such hope. But the infinite variety of the naked craggy mountains, and the sand and rubbish-filled valley, treeless and bushless, make so wholly uniform impressions, that no one of us would have recognised the principal valley as the right, if the direction and general distance of it had not told us that it was the right one. At the end of the valley we had again to enter the region of the hills, between which it seemed possible to find the Arab hutstowards the south, as I had taken the bearing of the principal peak of the Dochân from the neighbouring hill-fort. The huts were of course so hidden, that one could ride by them at the distance of a few minutes, and not observe them; perhaps, too, the mats were set up in another place. Thus we were lost in the wide burning desert without a guide, gnawed with hunger, and parched with thirst, and, as far as man could see, quite abandoned to chance. In silence we journeyed on, each occupied with his own thoughts, in the glowing noon heat, when suddenly—the moment will never be forgotten by me!—two men came forth from behind the rock. They rushed to us, embraced our knees, offered us water from their jugs, and kept continually repeating expressions of joy and greetings, with the greatest delight.
“El hamdu l’illah”—Praised be God! resounded on all sides. We were saved!
Our caravan, whence the two Arabs came, had as usual followed our track, and therefore like ourselves had lost their way, but Ibrahim Aga, soon perceiving our confusion, halted sooner, had fires, lighted in the night on all the hills, with difficulty gathered fuel, and had almost used up the powder. But the wind set the opposite way, and we heard none of the signals of our distressed comrades. Next morning they had proceeded, and by dint of the wonderful memory of Sheikh Selâm, who had once been here five-and-twenty years ago, had got on the right way to the well. Yet Ibrahim Aga encamped at an hour’s distance from it, as every trace of us was lost, and sent in greattrouble concerning our fate, Arab patrols into the mountains to find us.
How strange it was, that we should enter the great valley just in time to meet such a post! As we had come into the side valley over the mountain, no trace of our animals—who, of course, besides this could not be tracked on the stones—could lead into it; had we therefore started a few minutes later, they would certainly have passed before we were in sight, and had we come down the valley earlier, we should have turned to the right towards the huts, and gone away from the caravan far to the left.
About two o’clock, we arrived in the camp, which we entered amid shouts of joy from all present. The greatest astonishment was expressed at not finding Selîm with us; he was given up by every one. I did not, however, allow the camp to be broken up, but had the camels led to the well alone. The Arabs were again sent into the mountains to search for Selîm, and I remained quietly in my tent for the rest of the day.
Towards evening some Arabs returned from the well, and with them, loaded on a camel, Selîm. They had found him lying speechless, with open mouth, and his body swollen from intemperate draughts of water, by the edge of the well. How he had come thither, we did not immediately learn, as he answered to none of our questions. He must, however, have found his way by chance out of the mountains, or by the wonderful innate power of tracing the way peculiar to the Arab. Now he was probably speechless more by thefear of the serious consequences of the miserable trick he had played us. When he perceived that we regarded him with some pity, he soon recovered. But I did not keep him about me any more; for the remainder of the journey I took the old trustworthy Sheikh Selâm, as a guide for our advanced party, and left the other with the caravan.
Gebel Dochân, the Porphyry mountain, which had been our actual reason for coming this way, and had caused the whole undertaking, was, however, found to be far behind us. We had, as I had suspected, notwithstanding Selîm’s assurances to the contrary, ridden by its foot for several hours, as we erroneously thought the well was near it. None of the caravan had seen the old quarries, and the remains of the ancient colony. Notwithstanding this, I determined to make a second attempt on the ensuing day; and in this I succeeded.
With the dawn, I set forth with Max, the Sheikh Selâm, and a young sturdy Arab. The huts had not been observed by the caravan, and lay much too far to the east for us. We therefore rode straight for the highest peak of the Dochân group. Chance decreed that we should, when in the vicinity of the ruins, meet an Abdi from those huts with some camels, for which he was seeking a grazing-place. With his assistance we arrived at our destination.
We first found the great mouth of a well, built up of rude stones, measuring twelve feet in diameter, but it was now ruined and filled up. On thewestern side, were five pillars of a hall, seemingly covered at an earlier period, a sixth was destroyed. Three hundred paces further up the valley, on a granite rock, projecting from the left side, a temple was built, but which was now in ruins. The walls had been piled upon rude stones, but the finer architectural portions well chiselled out of red granite. A stair of twenty steps led from the north, on the paved court, surrounded by a wall, in the centre of which a rude altar of granite stood. Four cells adjoined this court on the left, the most southern of which, however, had now partially fallen down, together with the rock foundation; to this, as there was space on the rock, a still smaller chamber had been added, in which a larger, but also uninscribed altar stood. Before these spaces in the middle of the court, there stood, at an elevation of some feet, and grounded with sharp blocks of granite, an Ionian portico, consisting of four monolithic pillars, slender and swelling, the bases and capitals of which, together with the cornice and architrave, lay around in pieces. The long dedicatory inscription informed us that the temple was dedicated, in the time of the Emperor Hadrian, to Zeus Helios Sarapis, by the Eparch Rammius Martialis. To the left of the wall, the ruins of the town lie on an eminence. It was four-cornered, and, as usual, defended by towers. In the middle there was again a well, the principal requirement of every station, built of burnt brick, and stuccoed. Eight rude thin granite pillars formed the entrance to the well.
An old steep roadway leads up the adjacentmountains, and conducts to the porphyry quarries, which, hard under the top of the mountain, gave the beautiful dark red porphyry in which so many of the monuments of the Imperial time were hewn. Its broad veins lay between another blue-white sprinkled, and an almost brick-red stone, and were worked to a considerable depth. We found five or six quarries by each other, the largest forty square paces in extent. I could nowhere find chisel holes for splitting; for the blue-stone lying next to the quarry, rubbed almost as fine as sand, seemed to indicate the employment of fire. By the town, too, I found considerable heaps of ashes.
From the quarries I climbed to the height of the mountain, which gave a splendid view of the neighbouring mountains, in the steeply-descending, first hilly, and then sandy plain, towards the sea, and beyond the blue mirror to the opposite high chain of Tôr, After taking a number of observations I descended, and was back in our camp near the Moie Messâid, after sunset.
On the 19th of March we crossed the plain to the Enned Mountains, running along the seacoast, and passing them by a cross valley. A rich fountain was here, the running water of which accompanied us for a long distance. I should take it to be theFons Tadmosof Pliny, as its water has only become salt and undrinkable by the natron layer of the surface. The ruins of Abu Shâr, the ancientMyos hormos, orPhiloteras portus, we left to the right, and encamped on the peninsula of Gimsheh, called by the ArabsKibrît, from the quantity of sulphur which is found there.
Yesterday morning we rode between the Enned Mountains and the sea-shore to the Gulf of Gebel Zeït. The ridges of Tôr, which floated milky-blue upon the watered mirror before sunrise, contrasted delicately with the heavens; first with the rising sun were its outlines lost.
After dinner we arrived at Gebel Zeït, “the oil mountain.” Our ships, sent for from Kossêr, had made the passage in six days, and already awaited our arrival four days. The camels were dismissed here, and went back the same evening.
A quarter north of our anchorage lay the Zeïtieh; so are the five or six pits called which are excavated in the shore-sand or rock, and are filled with black-brown syrup-like earth oil. Some years ago investigations were commenced here by Em Bey, who hoped to find coals in the depths, without however, up to this time, arriving at such a result.
Last evening was calm. In the first night there arose a slight wind from the north, which we immediately used for departure. With a favourable wind we might have made the passage in a single night; but now the day is again closing, and the haven is not yet reached. The long oars, too, which are now brought into employment, scarcely bring the loaded vessel on.
The sailors of the sea are very different from those of the Nile. Their manner is far more equable, less false and less creeping. Their songs, beginning with the first stroke of the oar, consists ofshort broken lines, given out one by one and taken up by others, while the rest make short tones at equal intervals. The rais, on a higher seat, also rows. He is a negro, like several others among the sailors, but one of the handsomest and most powerful blacks that I have ever seen—a real Othello, when, with his athletic movements, he rolls his yellow-white eyes, shows his gleaming white teeth, and commences the song with a piercing, yelling, but practised voice, leading it for some time.
Convent of Sinai.Easter Monday, March 24, 1845.
Welanded on Good Friday evening, by moonlight, at Tôr. The harbour is so full of sand, that our vessel was obliged to remain some hundred paces from the shore. A skiff took us to land. Here we were received by the old Greek, Nikola Janni, who had formerly also received Ehrenberg, Léon de Laborde, Rüppell, Isenberg, and other well-known travellers, and who had favourable testimonials to show of his conduct towards them. After a long bargaining with the insolent Arabs, who, as soon as they perceived our haste and impatience, sought every means to take advantage of us, we set off, with as few necessaries as possible, for the land journey, early the day before yesterday from Tôr, and let the ship go on to Cape Abu Zelîmeh to await us there.
Our road led in a direct northern direction through the plain El Ge’âh, which is about five or six hours wide, between the sea and the mountains, at the mouth of the Wadi Hebrân. But I made an excursion on the road to the warm wells of Gebel Hammân. These lie at the southern end of the isolated chain of mountains, which, beginning at Tôr, run an hour’s distance to the sea-shore. I met the caravan again by the fountain El Hai, which is pleasantly situated amongstpalm-gardens on the road. The land rises gradually from the sea-shore till behind these wells. As soon as we had gained a complete view of the whole plain, and the summit of the high mountain which runs down in a steep and regularly descending chain to the end of the peninsula, I took the bearings of all the most remarkable points, entrances of valleys, and mountain-tops, which the guides were able to name. About half-past five, I arrived at the foot of the mountain. Here already at the entrance of the valley I remarked on the black blocks the first Sinaïtic inscriptions. A little further we came to a streamlet shaded by a few palms, where we encamped for the night.
Yesterday we went through the Wadi Hebrán, which divides the Serbâl group from the chain of mountains of Gebel Mûsa, crossed the Nakb el Eg’âui, which forms a division between east and west, and here turning to the south over Nakb el Haui (the wind-saddle) we reached the convent by sunset on Easter Sunday. We were, as all travellers are, drawn up to the entrance in the high fortress-wall, although there is another even with the ground through the cloister garden, which however is never used but from inside. The worthy old prior of whom Robinson writes, died in the same year at Cairo, and has been replaced by another, Demetrios Nicodemos, who has the rank of a bishop. As this convent is a Greek one, instead of arriving during the Easter festival, we came during the strict fast. But, notwithstanding this, the lives and ways of the four priests and the
Inscriptions on the north wall of the Convent of Mount Sinai.
twenty-one lay brothers do not make such an edifying impression as we had hoped. A dismal spirit of wearied indolence and ignorance lies like a heavy cloud on their discontented countenances. And yet these fugitives from a world of care, living under an ever cheerful, temperate climate, can alone of all the inhabitants of these arid deserts stay under the dark shade of cypresses, palms, and olive trees, besides having the care of a library of 1,500 volumes, without in the least degree thinking of its most beautiful destination as an ἰατρεῖον ψυχῆς.
We have to-day been up Gebel Mûsa. It formed, in my opinion, and also according to the description of former travellers, the centre of the whole chain of mountains. This, however, is not the case. It belongs rather, as well by the planimetrical extent of the primitive rock, as by its elevation, to the north-east descent. The convent lies at an exact distance,three times nearerto the east than the west side of the mountain. Gebel Katherine, which lies next to it on the south, is higher than the almost hidden summit of Gebel Mûsa, which is invisible to the whole neighbourhood. Beyond Mount Katherine there arise, by degrees, higher and higher mountains,—Um Riglên, Abu Shégere, Qettâr, &c., as far as Um Shôman, which towers above all, and lies in the centre between the east and west slopes of the total elevation, and forms the north crown to the long ridge running south along the whole peninsula. The whole way up Gebel Mûsa, with the many points to which there are saintly legendsattached, was a walk through nature in its wildest and most magnificent state, just as in our country one is led through an historical, ruined castle, where the private rooms, study, &c., of some great king are pointed out.
After our return from Gebel Mûsa, we went up the brow of the mountain called Hôreb, which Robinson considers to be the true Mount Sinai, instead of Gebel Mûsa, which has been till now supposed to be so. We passed many hermitages and chapels till we came to the last, situated in a hollow in the rocks, behind which the principal summit of Hôreb rises, rugged and grand. No footway leads up to it. We scrambled first through a steep cleft in the rock, then over the southern brow of the rock itself. At half-past five we were up just over the great plain Râha, upon the majestic, rounded mountain-top, which stands out so boldly from the plain. Robinson appears first to have tried this way, and then to have given it up, and to have ascended to the top of Sefsâf, which is certainly higher, but lies rather to the west, and does not stand out as the summit we climbed, which forms an exact centreto the plain.[106]Our guides all remained behind, excepting an Arab boy, as the ascension was almost dangerous. Even this situation did not prevent the thought from rising, as to whether Moses had ever stood upon any of these mountains which are visible from the plain, if we receive the account literally. We did not ascend Gebel Katherine, as it has less to do with history than Gebel Mûsa.
On the Red Sea.April 6, 1845.
I shallemploy the time of our quiet seavoyage, which will take some days, in arranging the manifold materials collected on the peninsula, and to mark down the principal events of our journey. I will send a more copious account from Thebes.[107]These lines, however, will be given to Seid Hussen, at Qeneh, and be forwarded by the first opportunity.
We left the convent on the 25th of March toward evening, and went down the broad Wadi e’ Shech. I chose this roundabout way, because formerly (before the wild defile, Nakb el Haui, was rendered passable) this was the only way the Israelites could go when they wanted to reachthe plain of Râha.[108]We remained during the night in the upper part of the valley, near the tomb of the holy Shech Sâlih, after whom the valley takes the name Wadi e’ Shech. In the lower part of the valley begins the manna-rich tarfa-bushes and gradually the Sinaitic inscriptions become more numerous. Before, however, we reached the end of the valley we quitted it, and turned to the left into the Wadi Selâf, which unites further down with the Wadi e’ Shech, in order to reach the foot of Serbâl by the shortest road. This immense height, towering over the mountainous landscape, we had often seen in our road when we had a clear view; and the accounts the Arabs gave of the fertile and well-watered Wadi Firân at its foot had made me desirous to make a nearer acquaintance. I had determined to ascend the mountain, and for this reason turned into the Wadi Rim, which runs into Wadi Selâf, into which Serbâl descends. When we had ridden a little way up this valley, we came to an old stone hut, which must have been inhabited by a hermit. Soon after, we found some Arab tents, and at a little distance several sittera-trees, which we chose as a resting-place.
On the 27th of March we rose early to ascend the mountain. The only way to Serbâl, Derb e’Serbâl, leads from the Wadi Firân through Wadi Aleyât up the mountain. We were obliged to go round to the south-east end of the mountain, in order to mount it behind on the south; as it would have been far beyond our strength to have climbed up through the ridge cleft, which falls steep, and in a direct line between the two eastern summits. A quarter-hour from our resting place we came to a well, shaded bynebek hamâdaand palms, whose fresh and pure waters were walled in for a depth of some feet. We then went over a little mountain ridge, upon which stood several stone huts, into another branch of the valley of Rim (Rim el Mehâsni), and reached in an hour and a-half the south-east corner of the mountain. From hence we followed a beaten path, which sometimes was even paved. This led us to an artificial terrace, and a wall, which appeared to be the ruins of a fallen house, and to a cool well, shaded by high rushes, a palm, and severaljassur(of which Moses’s staves were cut); the whole mountain being covered withhabakand other sweet-scented herbs. Some minutes further we came to several rock caverns, which must once have served as hermits’ cells; and after four hours’ further journeying, we arrived at a small plain, which lay between the heights, upon which we found another house with two rooms. A way led from this level to the edge of the west side of the mountain, which at first steep and rugged, then in soft broad slopes, sinks to the sandy plain el Ge’ah. Itopened to me here a glorious prospect over the sea to the opposite coast, and the Egyptian mountains which bound it. From here the mountain path suddenly sank by the rugged precipice into a wild deep mountain hollow, around which the five summits of Serbâl unite in a half circle, and form a towering crown. In the middle of this hollow, called Wadi Si’qelji, lie the ruins of an old convent, to which the mountain path leads, but which unfortunately we could not visit for want of time.[109]
I then went back across the level, and began first to ascend the southern Serbâl summit. When I had nearly reached the steep height, I thought that the second summit appeared to be somewhat higher. I hurried down again to seek a road to this. We passed a small water-fall, and were obliged to go almost all round the hollow before we succeeded in ascending the north-east side. Here, to my astonishment, I found between the two points into which the summit is split, a fruitful little plain, well covered with bushes and herbs, from which I first ascended one point and then the other, and with the assistance of my experienced guides, and the compass, I took thebearings of all the principal points which could be seen around. I could distinguish quite plainly that beyond Gebel Mûsa the mountains rose higher and higher, and that the distant Um Shômar towered over all. We did not begin to return till towards four o’clock. The long round by which we mounted we were obliged to avoid on our return, in order not to be in the dark. We determined, therefore, to make our way down the steep rock cleft, which led in a straight line to our camp in the Wadi Rim, and like the chamois to spring from block to block; and we got down this impassable road, (the most difficult and fatiguing that I ever went in my whole life,) in about two hours and a-half with trembling knees to our tent.
On the following day we went on farther, and reached, through the Wadi Selâf and the lower end of the Wadi e’Shech, the Wadi Firân, this most precious jewel of the peninsula, with its palms and tarfa woods, by the side of a lovely bubbling stream, which flows on, winding through bushes and flowers, as far as the old convent-mountains of the city of Pharan, the present Firân. Everything that we had seen, till then, and that we afterwards saw on our way, was a naked stony desert, in comparison with this fruitful well-wooded and well-watered oasis. For the first time since we left the valley of the Nile, did we tread again on the soft black earth, obliged to put out of our way the overhanging bushy branches with our arms, and did we hear the singing birds twittering in the foliage. Therewhere the broad Wadi Aleyât descends from Serbâl into the Wadi Firân, and widens the valley into a wide level, rises the rocky hill Hererât, on the top of which lie the ruins of an old convent. At the foot of this hill stood once a stately church, built of well-hewn sand-stone blocks, the remains of which have been used in building the city lying on the opposite slope.
I went the same evening up the Wadi Aleyât, and passed innumerable rock inscriptions, till I came to a spring surrounded by palms andnebek, from whence I enjoyed the full view of the majestic mountain chain. Distinguished from all the other mountains, and united in one mass, rises the Serbâl, first in a gentle slope, and then in steep rugged precipices, to a height of 6,000 feet above the sea. Incomparable was the view, when the valleys and lower mountains around were already wrapped in the shades of night, and the summit of the mountain, still above the colourless grey, rose like a fiery cloud, glowing in the setting sun. The next morning I repeated my visit to Wadi Aleyât, and finished the plan of this remarkable district, the land points of which I had already laid out from the top of the Serbâl.
The most fertile part of Wadi Firân is enclosed between two hills, which rise from the middle of the level in the valley; of these, the upper one is called El Buêb, the lower one at the end of the Wadi Aleyât, Meharret or Hererât. In olden times, it appears that this valley must have been enclosed, and the rushing water which flowed from all sides, even from Gebel Mûsa, intothis hollow, uniting, must have formed a lake. Such a supposition alone appears to account for the extraordinary deposit of earth, which here to a height of from eighty to a hundred feet, lies along the valley walls; and it is, without doubt, this singular situation of Firân, as the lowest point of a large mountainous tract, which causes the uncommon wealth of waters which is now met with. Immediately behind the convent hill, we found the narrow valley bed as stony and barren as the higher valleys, although the stream flowed on for another half-hour by our side. The powerful rush of the water here admitted no more earthy deposit. Not till the next large turning of the valley, called El Héssue, did we see any palms. Here the stream disappeared in a cleft in the rock, and the more suddenly, as it had broken out behind the Buêb, and we saw no more of it. After five hours’ journey, we left the valley of Firân, which here turns to the left towards the sea, and we went out of the mountains into a flat sandstone country. The high mountains turned next back towards the north, and enclosed in a great bow the hilly, sandy landscape which we crossed. We came to the Wadi Mokatteb, the “written valley,” which takes its name from the inscriptions which are found here in many places.
It is easily seen that it is those rocks, shaded from the noonday sun, which invited the travellers passing to Firân to engrave their names and short maxims upon the soft stone. We took impressions in paper of all the inscriptions that we could reach, or copied with the pen such as were not suited forimpression. We found these inscriptions singly, at the most various, and often very far distant places in the peninsula; and, on the whole, had no doubt that they had been engraven by the inhabitants of the land in the first centuries before and after Christ. Occasionally I found them graven over older Greek names, and Christian crosses are not unfrequently combined in them. These inscriptions are usually called Sinaitic, and not unaptly, if the whole of the peninsula of Sinai is so meant as the place where they are found. But it is worthy of remark that at Gebel Mûsa, which is generally considered to be Mount Sinai, there are but a few single and short inscriptions of this kind, in the same manner, as by a careful survey they might be found in any of these places; but their actual centre was rather Pharan, at the foot of Serbâl.[110]
On the 31st of March we again reached the mountains turning eastward, and entered by Wadi Qeneh, the little branching Wadi Maghâra, in which sandstone and primary stone bound each other. Here we found, high upon the northern cliff, the remarkable Egyptian rock-steles belonging to the earliest monuments of Egyptian antiquity with which we are acquainted.[111]Already, underthe fourth dynasty of Manetho, the same which erected the great pyramids of Gizeh, 4,000B.C., copper mines had been discovered in this desert, which were worked by a colony. The peninsula was then already inhabited by Asiatic, probably Semetic races; therefore do we often see in those rock sculptures, the triumphs of Pharaoh over the enemies of Egypt. Almost all the inscriptions belong to the Old Empire; only one was found of the co-regency of King Tuthmosis III. and his sister.
I wished to get from hence by the shortest way to the second place on the peninsula Sarbut el Châdem. But there was no direct road over the high mountains to the descent on the north-east side. So we were obliged to return to Wadi Mokatteb, and going a long way round to the south-east through Wadi Sittere and Wadi Sîch, to avoid the mountain. When we came out of the valley, we had before us the wide-spreading plain, which includes the whole northern part of the peninsula, and which consists entirely of sandstone. This falls, however, towards the south, into a double descent, so that the view appears, at a great distance, to be bounded by two lofty mountain walls, of the same height. The next southern descent, called E’ Tîh, leads down to a wide sandy valley-plain, Debbet e’ Ramleh, while the near side of the sandstone rocks appears to reach the height of the immense plain.
Upon one of the projecting terraces in this broad valley, which we had to climb with great fatigue, lie the monuments of Sarbut el Châdem,most astonishing even to one prepared for the sight of them. The most ancient representation here carried us back into the Old Empire, but only into the last dynasty of the same, the twelfth of Manetho. At this time, under Amenemhra III. there was a little grotto hewn out of the rock, and furnished with an ante-chamber. Outside it high steles were erected at different distances without any particular order, the most distant of which was about a quarter of an hour away on the highest point of theplateau. Under the New Empire, Tuthmosis III. had enlarged the building towards the west, and added a small pylon, and an outer court. The later kings built a long row of rooms in the same direction, one before the other, occasionally, as it appears, for the purpose of preserving the steles within from the weather; particularly from the sharp, and often sand-filled winds, which had all through eaten up the ancient undefended steles. The youngest stele bears the cartouches of the last king of the nineteenth dynasty. Since that time, or soon after, the place was deserted by the Egyptians.
The divinity who was mostly revered here in the New Empire, was Hathor,[112]with the designation, also found in Wadi Maghâra, “Mistress of Mafkat,”i.e., “the copper country;” formafka, signified “copper,” in the hieroglyphical, as well as in the Koptic language. Therefore, no doubt copper was also obtained here. This was confirmed by a peculiar appearance, which strangely enoughhas not been observed by any earlier travellers. East and west of the temple are to be seen great slag-hills, which, from their black colour, form a strange contrast to the soil of the neighbourhood. These artificial mounds, the principal of which is 256 paces long, and from 60 to 120 paces broad, situated on the tongue of the terrace projecting into the valley, are covered with a massive crest of slag from four to five feet thick, and thence to their feet from twelve to fifteen feet, sprinkled with single blocks of the same material. The land shows that the mines could not have been in the immediate neighbourhood, but the old and still visible paths which lead into the mountain no doubt point them out. Unfortunately we had not time for it. It seems, therefore, that this free point was chosen only for smelting, on account of the sharp, and as the Arabs assure us, almost incessant draught of air.
On the 3rd of April we rode further, and visited the Wadi Nasb, in which we also found traces of ancient smelting-places; and the following day towards evening, we reached our ship, which had been waiting for us in the harbour of Abu Zelimeh for several days.
Here we found to our great astonishment, four German apprentices, among them two Prussian Schlesians from the vicinity of Neisse. They had come from Cairo, in order to visit Mount Sinai; they had arrived happily as far as Suez, and there had waited in vain for a ship, and at last, like real modern crusaders, had set off alone on the road, in order to carry out their bold purpose. They hadbeen assured, doubtless not in good German, that the way was short, and not to be mistaken, and that there was no want of water. In this good belief, their pilgrim-flasks filled to the brim, they set off into the desert; but the footsteps of the children of Israel were obliterated, and no pillar of a cloud went on before them. On the third day they had lost their way, their bread was gone, they had missed the wells, they had been several times stopped by Arabs, and only not robbed, because they possessed nothing worth stealing; and they would certainly have perished in the waste, if they had not from the mountains, at some hours’ distance, perceived our ship lying by the strand, and fortunately reached it before our arrival. Upon my inquiry as to the trade which they had intended to bring to perfection by this journey into the East, and if they expected to find employment among the monks on Mount Sinai, as they had brought no money with them, I was informed, that one was a carpenter, who hoped to make himself very useful there; unfortunately I was obliged to tell him that he would have to cope with a lay brother; another was a shoemaker, the third was a stocking-weaver, and the fourth owned, after some hesitation, that he was a woman’s tailor. Nothing else could be done but to take these extraordinary people in the ship with us, although the sailors looked at them ascantly, on account of the want of water. I had them set on shore at Tôr, and took care that they should be accompanied from thence to the convent.
Besides occupying myself with the wonderful Egyptian monuments of this land of copper, and the so-named Sinaitic inscriptions, I busied myself with examining the geographical questions relating to the sojourn of the Israelites on the peninsula. I think I have obtained, with reference to these occurrences, a result, which, although it differs in essential points from the general acceptation, if I have judged rightly, will form an important feature in the historical and geographical events of the Old Testament.[113]I will here merely briefly mention a few of the principal points, and will write more fully from Thebes.
It appeared very doubtful to me when I was in the convent at Gebel Mûsa,[114]whether it was the holy mountain on which the Commandments were given or not. Since I have seen Serbâl, and Wadi Firân, at its foot, and a great part of the rest of the country, I feel quite convinced that we must recognise Sinai in Mount Serbâl.
The present monkish tradition has no worth in an impartial research. This every one must know, who has occupied himself seriously with such things. If, even in Jerusalem they are, for the mostpart, not of the slightest value, unless they be supported from the original source, how much less are they worth on the Sinai peninsula, where they relate to questions much more distant, both as to time and place! During the long space of time between the giving the Commandments and the first Christian centuries, Sinai is only once mentioned in a later historical occurrence, as the “Mountain of God, Horeb,” upon which Elias appeared. It would indeed be extremely wonderful, if during this lapse of time the tradition had not been interrupted, and if also during that time the population had so changed on the peninsula, that we cannot point out a single place mentioned in the Old Testament with any certainty, and even the Greeks and the Romans were not acquainted with these old designations.[115]We must therefore return to the Mosaic accounts, in order to prove the truth of the present acceptation.
To this we must also add, that the general relative geographical position of the localities of the peninsula have not essentially altered since the time of Moses. They who take refuge in a contrary opinion, may undoubtedly prove everything, and for that very reason they prove nothing. It is therefore very important to keep the historical relations of the different periods before our eyes, because these were certainly likely to cause changes in different places.
Hence it cannot be denied, that the fertile and well-watered Wadi Firân, at all times, and therefore also at the time of Moses, was the most important, and most frequented centre of the whole peninsula, by reason of its unparalleled fertility, and of its inexhaustible bubbling fountains. That this wonderful oasis was then, as now, in the middle of the eternally naked desert, the whole character of the land proves. On the other side it is not less true, that the environs of the present convent on Gebel Mûsa were formerly, (notwithstanding the spare streamlets, which there spring from the earth, but only moisten the neighbouring soil), just as barren as all the other parts of that mountain waste; that the draw-wells[116]dugout of the rocks at first supplied water sufficient for the use of the inhabitants of the convent; and that an artificial irrigation of more than a thousand years’ duration, with the most careful employment of every means of culture, rendered possible the small plantations now found there.[117]In olden times there was not the slightest reason for rendering this desert habitable by art, so much the rather as it lay apart from all the connecting roadsof the peninsula, and formed a true mountain hollow, to which there was only one entrance, through the Wadi e’ Shech. ^
In contra-distinction to this, there is one point of the peninsula, which, long before Moses, and also during his time, was of great consequence, but now it is no longer so. This is the harbour of Abu Zelîmeh. Here roads led from the three different mines, which are yet known to us, Wadi Maghâra, Sarbut el Châdem, and Wadi Nasb. No landing-place lay more conveniently for the union of Egypt with these colonies; it was, according to the account of our sailors, the best harbour on the whole coast, not even excepting Tôr. Here also the Egyptians must have taken much pains in making a plentiful supply of water. As neither the sandy sea-coast, nor the valleys leading to it afforded any, so they had, without doubt, dug wells at the next place which promised water beneath the ground. Such a place was found at the lower entrance of the Wadi Shebêkeh (with others Taibeh, where there still stand a number of palms, and many other trees, and consequently the ground is damp, although there is no well to be found).[118]This would therefore be the most proper place to dig for water, and make a well. Now there is no difference of opinion that near Abu Zelîmeh the encampment by the Red Sea was made, which is mentioned in the fourth Book of Moses as behind Elim. In the second Book this account is omitted, and only the twelve wells and seventy palm-trees named. How natural, indeed unavoidable, then, is the conclusion, that this well and palms of Elim, towards which the harbour of Abu Zelîmeh led, perhaps about an hour’s distance from the valley, and for this reason, in the account of the encampment of Elim by the sea, given in the second Book, from the watering-place of apparently the same name. According to the present, and also according to Robinson’s acceptation, the twelve wells of Elim were situated in Wadi Gharandel, according to the latest reckoning,[119]from eight to nine hours—a long day’s journey distant from the harbour, thus for the supply of this important place, quite useless. It is not easy to perceive what, in Wadi Gharandel, where still, at this present time, the brackish water of the whole district is somewhat more plentiful than elsewhere, could exactly have suggested the plan of these twelve wells. To this must be added that it is necessary to put the next preceding station, Mara, to an inconsiderable well, only an hour and a half or two hours from Wadi Gharandel, while the next station is considered to be eight hours distant. It appears to me not to be doubted, that the first three journeys into the desert led toWadi Gharandel, that is Mara; the fourth to the harbour station, Abu Zelîmeh,i. e.Elim.
Now first, would the continuation be understandable? “And they set forth from Elim and came into the desert of Sin,which lies between Elim and Sinai.” At Wadi Gharandel also, the boundaries of two districts were as geographically incomprehensible as they are natural at Abu Zelîmeh. The harbour, with its small commodious plain, between Nochol-rock and Gebel Hammâm Faraûn,[120]forms with these two prominent mountains really the most important geographical portion of the whole coast. The northern high plain, regularly sloping towards the sea, was called the desert of Sûr; the southern, rising higher, and soon losing itself in the mountain lands of the primitive rocks, is called the desert of Sin. The remark, that the latter lay between Elim and Sinai, would have no sense, if it were not also said that the desert of Sin extends itself to Sinai, or further. The next departure, then, from the desert of Sin to Raphidîm, must not be understood that they had left the desert;on the contrary, they remained in it till they came to Sinai, whose name “Sini,” that is “the Mountain of Sin,” plainly derived its name from the district, and on this account could not be visited without the other. This also is confirmed by the account of the manna, which was given to the Israelites in the desert of Sin; for this is first found in the valleys near Firân, and grows as little about the sandy sea coasts as it does in the higher regions of Gebel Mûsa.[121]
Let us place here the preliminary question, which of the two mountains, Serbâl or Gebel Mûsa, was so situated as to be especially pointed out as Sini, the “Sinaïtic mountain of the desert of Sin;”—the answer cannot for a moment be doubted. Gebel Mûsa, which is scarcely visible from any side, and is almost hidden and “secret,”[122]neither from its height, nor its form, situation, or any other distinction, presented anything that could have caused either the native races or the Egyptian hermits to point it out as the “mountain of Sin;” whilst Serbâl, which attracts the eye from all sides and from a great distance, which dominates over the whole of the primary rocks, not only by its outward appearance, but also on account of Wadi Firân situated at its foot, ever the centre-point for the wide straggling inhabitants of the country, and the goal of all travellers, may claim the designation of the “mountain of Sin.” If, however, any one would wish to conclude from the departure from the desert of Sin to Raphidîm, that only the broad coast south of Abu Zelîmeh, which the Israelites must have passed, was called the desert of Sin, (which is the opinion of Robinson,[123]); still Serbâl, which adjoins and commands this district, and from here is accessible over the ancient convent of Si’gelji, would claim the designation as the mountain of Sin from the boatmen of the Red Sea; while Gebel Mûsa, which lies directly on the opposite eastern side of the great chain of mountains, could not possibly have taken the name of Sin from the western desert of that name, nor can it offer a suggestion for such a statement, as that the desert of Sin lies between Abu Zelîmeh and Gebel Mûsa. It is also reasonable to believe, that the whole of the primitive rocks, (that is, the whole of the peninsula south of Abu Zelîmeh), was called the “desert of Sin,” and consequently that Gebel Mûsa was included in it. This even does not necessarily exclude the belief that Serbâl, as the best known, the nearest, and as a much more important mountain to the Egyptian colonists than the southern mountains could be, would not have been distinguished by that name; whilst in the southernprincipal chain not even Um Shômar as the highest centre-point,—not the completely subordinate Gebel Mûsa,—still less the isolated rock Sefsâf, which Robinson considers the one, would have had such a distinguished designation.
All that has been said here relative to Sinai as the “mountain of the desert of Sin,” may now be applied to the further question, as to which of the two mountains, Serbâl and Gebel Mûsa, possessed such properties that it should already, before the great event of the giving the Commandments, have been regarded as a “holy mountain,” as a “mountain of God,” by the native races of the peninsula.[124]For Moses already drove the sheep of Jethro behind the desert from Midian, to the “mountain of God in Choreb;” and Aaron came to meet him on his return from Egypt to the “mountain of God.” If we hold to the belief that the necessary centre of the Sinaïtic population at that time was the Oasis Firân, so does there appear every probability that that race had founded a sanctuary, a universal place of worship in the neighbourhood, at the foot, or much more naturally at the summit, of the mountain which rose from that valley.[125]Moreover,this was the particular spot fixed for that meeting of Moses, who came out of Midian, and Aaron, who came out of Egypt. There was no occasion, in so desert and unpopulated a country, to seek out for any particularly private and remote mountain-corner for such a meeting.
From this it appears that the Sinaïtic inscriptions, which as has been already said, are principally to be found on the way to Wadi Firân, and in the Wadi Aleyât leading up to Serbâl, seem to point out that in much later times, long pilgrimages, to celebrate religious festivals, must have been undertaken to this place.[126]
Let us now turn immediately to the principal point, which, for those who keep the general circumstances of the passage of the Israelites before them, must be the most conclusive. It is not to be denied that when Moses determined to lead this great multitude into the peninsula, the first problem he had to solve by his wisdom and knowledge of the land, was the means of supporting them. For at whatever number we may reckon the wanderers, who, according to Robinson, amounted to two millions, (which, according to Lane, is the present population of all Egypt,) they were most undoubtedly an immense multitude, who suddenly and without any provision of food, were to be sustained in the desert. How is it then possible to suppose, that Moses would not have immediately fixed upon the most fertile, best watered, and shortest road, instead of a distant mountain-corner, which would have been impossible even for (I mention a large number purposely) 2,000 wanderers, with what belonged to them, to provide with food and water. Moses would have done wrong to have depended on miracles from God, as these happen only when human wisdom and human thought are at an end.
On reflection upon this undeniable proof against the hitherto supposed situation of Sinai, it appears to me that the idea will be changed, and that every close historical examination of these wonderful events must destroy it, even if grounds should also be brought forward against our acceptation of it. We will now continue the narrative. From Elim Moses reached Raphidîm in three days’ journey. The new school are generally agreed that the caravan from Abu Zelîmeh did not again return to the eastern sand-plain E’Raml, through the same Wadi Shebêkeh, or Saibeh, by which they descended, but took the usual caravan road which leads to Wadi Firân. How then would Moses have chosen the dry and much longer upper way, or even the great and still more dry round-about way along the sea-coast, by Tôr and Wadi Hebrân, instead of immediately turning into the valleys of the primitive rocks, both less dry, and rich with manna.
He must also come to Wadi Firân—no third way was possible. This is the cogent reason why (with the exception of Robinson)[127]almost all without a dissentient voice, have placed Raphidîm after Firân. It seems impossible that this oasis, if it had been traversed, should not once have been named. Already Josephus,[128]Eusebius,Jerome,[129]and, as it appears, every other author and traveller[130]place Raphidîm after the city Pharan. No spot in the whole country could have been of so much value, as these fruitful gardens of Pharan, to the native races, threatened by Moses. It is then very easy to be conceived that Moses, just here in Raphidîm, should have been attacked by the Amalekites, who wouldlose their most valuable possessions. He drove them back, and then only could Moses say that he had possession of the peninsula. His first goal was attained. What could tempt him to go further?