LIBRARY OF THE THEOLOGICAL SEMINAUY PRINCETON. N. J. Presented by *v • . . », v V I he. WiMovv ©4" Division...!)..^ 167 „,§2 8 7 . . *• , ■ I * 09Z- 0GZ ~ t3 @*> M r-3 I «5 V r=l ^ t; 3 © ■£ cn c« r3 t -S o * g bjD CLi c Sr 1 S | ° * o Ooe- SINAI AND PA in connection w THEIR IIISTOEY. ARTHUR PENRHYN STANLEY, D.D., F.R.S.. DEAN OF WESTMINSTER, CORRESPONDANT DE L’lNSTITUT IMPERIAL DE FRANCE, NEW EDITION, WITH MAPS AND PLANS* NEW YORK : A. 0. ARMSTRONG & SON 51 East 10th Street, Near Broadway, 1894. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2019 with funding from Princeton Theological Seminary Library https://archive.org/details/sinaipalestinein00stan_2 f PREFATORY NOTE TO NEW EDITION, The late Dean Stanley (who passed away in 1881) published a new and revised edition of his “ Sinai and Palestine.” In this he made considerable additions and correc¬ tions. He furnished besides, a number of elaborate and beautifully colored maps and other illustrations, and gave the work the final impress of his scholar¬ ship, taste and ability. The present edition has been carefully conformed to the last English edition — including the new maps and illustrations , and is herewith commended anew to the Christian Public as the most readable as well as the most accurate work on the subject in the English Lan¬ guage. New York, February, 1883. I t / ' CONTENTS. Page ADVERTISEMENT . 9 PREFACE : The Connection of Sacred History and Sacred Geography . 13 INTRODUCTION : Egypt in its relation to Sinai and Palestine. 1. Nile on the Delta. 2. View from the Citadel at Cairo. 3. Heliopolis. 4. Valley of the Nile. 5. Tombs of Beni-Hassan. G Tombs and Her¬ mits. 7. Thebes — Colossal statues. 8. Thebes — Karnac and the Royal Tombs. 9. Nile at Silsilis. 10. At the First Cataract. 11. Philai. 1-2. Nile in Nubia. 13. Ipsambul. 14. Nile at the Second Cataract. 15. Dendera. 16. Memphis. 17. The Pyramids . 33 CHAPTER I. PART I.— PENINSULA OF SINAI. I. General configuration — the Mountains, the Desert, and the Sea. 1. The Two Gulfs. 2. The Plateau of the Tih. 3. The Sandy Tract of Deb- bet-er-Ramleh. 4. The Mountains of the Tor. a. TlieKaa — the Shores. b. The Passes, c. The Mountains ; the Three Groups — the Colours — the Confusion — the Desolation — the Silence, d. The W adys — the Vege¬ tation — the Springs — the Oases . G5 II General Adaptation to the History. The Scenery — the Physical Pheno¬ mena — the Present Inhabitants — Changes in the Features of the Desert . 82 III. Local Traditions of the History. 1 Arab Tradition — Traditions of Moses. Loss of the Ancient Names. 2. Greek Traditions. 3. Early Traditions of Eusebius and Jerome . 91 IV. Route of the Israelites. 1. Passage of the Red Sea. 2. Marah and Elim. 3. Encampment by the Red Sea. 4 Wilderness of Sin. 5. Choice between Serbal and Gebel Mousa as Sinai. 6. Special Localities of the History . 97 V. Later History of the Peninsula. 1. Elijah’s Visit. 2. Josephus. 3. Allusions of St. Paul. 4. Christian Hermitages; Convent of St. Cath¬ erine. 5. Mosque in the Convent : Visit of Mahomet. 6. Present State of the Convent. 7. Sanctuary of Slieykh Saleh . 113 Note. Sinaitic Inscriptions . 122 PART II.— JOURNEY FROM CAIRO TO JERUSALEM.— EXTRACTS FROM JOURNALS. I. Departure from Egypt : Overland Route ; First Encampment. II. The Passage of the Red Sea. 1. Approach to Suez 2. Suez. 3. Wells of G CONTENTS. TAGE toral character of the country and its inhabitants. Nomadic tribes — Reuben— Gad — Manasseh — Elijah the Tishbite. VI. Land of exile. Last view of the Holy Land . 389 CHAPTER IX.— PLAIN OP ESDRAELON. General features. I. Boundary between northern and central tribes. II. Battle-field of Palestine. 1. Victory over Sisera. Battle of Kishon. 2. Victory over the Midianites. 3. Defeat of Saul. Battle of Mount Gilboa — Beth shan and Jabesh Gilead. 4. Defeat of Josiah — Battle of Megiddo . 403 111. Richness and fertility of the Plain — Issachar: Jezreel — Engannim. IV. Tabor : Fortress and Sanctuary of the Northern Tribes. V. Car¬ mel — Scene of Elijah’s sacrifice. VI, Nain . 41G CHAPTER X.— GALILEE. Scenery of Northern Palestine — The Four Northern Tribes — Their wealth — Their isolation — Galilee in the New Testament . 429 I. Nazareth — Its upland basin — its seclusion — Sacred localities . 432 II. Lake of Gennesareth. Plain of Hattin and Mountain of the Beati¬ tudes — Battle of Hattin. 2. View of the Lake of Gennesareth. 3. Jewish History of Tiberias. 4. Plain of Gennesareth. Traffic — Fer¬ tility of the Plain — Villas of the Herods — Fisheries of the Lake. 5. Scene of the Gospel Ministry — “ Manufacturing district ” — The Beach — -The Desert — The storms of wind — The Demoniacs — The Feeding of the Multitudes — The Plain of Gennesareth — Capernaum . 436 CHAPTER XI.— THE LAKE OF MEROM AXD THE SOURCES OF THE JORDAN. I. Upper Valley of the Jordan — Hills of Naphthali and Manasseh — Kedesh- Naphthali. II. Lake of Merom — Battle of Merom. III. Sources of the Jordan — Tel-el-Kadi — City and Tribe of Dan — Caesarea Philippi — Hazor — Paneas — Hermon — Mount of the Transfiguration . 459 CHAPTER XII.— LEBANON AND ANTI-LEBANON. I. Hermon: Its Temples — Baalbec. II. The Vale of Ilasbeya — The Vale of Ccele-Syria —Lebanon — The Nahr-el-Kelb— The Cedars. III. The Litany. IV. The Orontes — Riblah- Antioch. V. The Barada — Damascus: its Traditions . 475 CHAPTER XIII.— THE GOSPEL HISTORY AND TEACHING. VIEWED IN CONNECTION WITH THE LOCALITIES OF PALESTINE. I. The stages of the Gospel History. 1. Infancy of Christ. 2. Youth. 3. Public ministry. 4. Retirement from public ministry. 11. The Para- CONTENTS. PAGE bles. 1. Parables of Judsea. a. The Vineyard, b. The Fig-tree. c. The Shepherd, d. The Good Samaritan. 2. Parables of Galilee, a. The Corn-fields, b. The Birds, c. The Fisheries. III. The Discourses — The Sermon on the Mount. 1. The City on a Hill. 2. The Birds and the Flowers. 3. The Torrent. . . 503 IV. Conclusions. 1. Reality of the teaching. 2. Its homeliness and uni¬ versality. 3. Its union of human and divine . 518 CHAPTER XIV.— THE HOLY PLACES. I. Bethlehem: Church of Helena — Grotto of the Nativity — Jerome. II. Nazareth : Grotto in Latin Convent — Spring near the Greek Church- House at Loretto — Compared with site at Nazareth — Origin of the Le¬ gend. III. Jerusalem: Lesser localities — Church of the Ascension — Tomb of the Virgin — Gethsemano — Coenacuium — Church of the Holy Sepulchre — Greek Easter — Conclusion . 525 APPENDIX.— VOCABULARY OE HEBREW TOPOGRAPH¬ ICAL WORDS. Introduction . 505 Index . 509 I . — Valleys and Tracts of Land . . . 570 II. — Mountains, Hills, and Rocks . 581 III. — Rivers and Streams . 587 IV. — Springs, Wells, and Pits . 594 V.— Caves . 599 VI. — Forests and Trees . GOO VII. — Cities, Habitations, Streets . G04 VIII. — The Sea and its Shores . . . G13 INDEXES 015 MAPS. I. Diagram of the Heights of Egypt, Sinai, and Palestine. Frontispiece. II. Egypt . . Page 39 III. Peninsula of Sinai . “ 67 IY. Traditional Sinai . “ 107 Y. Palestine . “ 179 VI. South of Palestine . “ 229 VII. Plain of Esdraelon and Galilee . .• . “ 404 WOODCUTS. PAGE 1. Sketch-map of Syria . 174 2. Sketch-plan of Jerusalem . 226 3. Sketch-plan of Shechem . 294 4. Map of the Lake and District of Gennesareth . . 428 5. Sketch-plan of House at Nazareth and at Loretto . . 524 In the references to the Erdlcunde of Professor C. Ritter throughout this work, the following names have been adopted for the volumes relating to Sinai and Palestine: Part XIV. (or Yol. I.) is designated Sinai; Part XY. (Vol. II.), Sect. 1, Jordan: Sect. 2, Syria; PartXYI. (Yol. III.), Palestine; Part XVII. (Yol. IV.), Sect. 1, Lebanon : Sect. 2, Damascus. 8 ADVERTISEMENT. What is personal in this book may be briefly told. In the winter of 1852, and in the spring of 1853, in the company of the three friends,* to whose kindness I shall always feel grateful for having enabled me to fulfil this long-cherished design, I visited the well-known scenes of Sacred History in Egypt, Arabia, and Syria. Any detailed description of this journey has been long since rendered superfluous by the ample illustrations of innumerable tra¬ vellers. But its interest and instruction are so manifold, that, even after all which has been seen and said of it, there still remain points of view unexhausted. Much has been written, and still remains to be written, both on the History and the Geography of the Chosen People. But there have been comparatively few attempts to illustrate the relation in which each stands to the other. To bring the recollections of my own journey to bear on this question, — to point out how much or how little the Bible gains by being seen, so to speak, through the eyes of the country, or the country by being seen through the eyes of the Bible, — to exhibit the effect of the ‘ Holy Land’ * I trist that I may be permitted to name Mr. Walrond, Mr. Fremantle, and Mr Pin d lay. 10 ADVERTISEMENT . on the course of ‘ the Holy History/ — seemed to he a task not hitherto fully accomplished. To point out the limits of this connection will be the object of the following Preface. As a general rule, it has been my endeavour, on the one hand, to omit no geographical feature which throws any direct light on the history or the poetry of the sacred volume ; and, on the other hand, to insert no descriptions except those which have such a purpose, and to dwell on no passages of Scripture except those which are capable of such an illustration. The form of narrative has thus been merged in that of dissertation, following the course of his¬ torical and geographical divisions. Whenever I have given extracts from journals or letters, it has been when it seemed necessary to retain the impression not merely of the scene, but of the moment. Only in a few instances, chiefly con¬ fined to notes, the main course of the argument has been interrupted in order to describe in greater detail particular spots, which have not been noticed in previous accounts. I have, as much as possible, avoided the controverted points of sacred topography, both because they mostly relate to spots which throw no direct light on the history, and also because they depend for their solution on data which are not yet fully before us. The Maps have been framed with the intention of giving not merely the physical features, but the actual colouring offered to the eye of the traveller at the present time. In the use of the geographical terms of the Old and New Testament, I have aimed at a greater precision than has been reached or perhaps attempted in the Authorised Ver¬ sion ; and have thrown into an Appendix a catalogue of ADVERTISEMENT. 11 such words as a help to a not unimportant field of philolog¬ ical and geographical study. For the arrangement of this Appendix, as well as for the general verification of refer¬ ences and correction of the press I am indebted to the care¬ ful revision of my friend, Mr. Grove, of Sydenham. Through¬ out the work I have freely used all materials within my reach to fill up the deficiencies necessarily left by the hasty and imperfect character of my personal observation. It is unnecessary to describe more particularly the nature of these sources ; they are mostly given in the long cata¬ logues of writers affixed to Robinson’s ‘Biblical Researches,’ and Ritter’s volumes on Sinai, Palestine, and Syria ; and J may perhaps be allowed to refer for a general estimate of their relative value to an Essay on ‘ Sacred Geography’ in the Quarterly Review for March, 1854. Finally, I have to express my deep sense of all that I owe to my friend and fellow-traveller Mr. Theodore Walrond, Fellow of Balliol College, Oxford. Without him the journey, to which I shall always look back as one of the most instructive periods of my life, would in all prob¬ ability never have been accomplished : on his accurate observation and sound judgment I have constantly relied, both on the spot and since ; and, though I have touched too slightly on Egypt to avail myself of his knowledge and study of the subject where it would have been most valuable, I feel that his kind supervision of the rest of the volume gives a strong guarantee for the faithful repre¬ sentation of the scenes which we explored together, and of the conclusions to be derived from them. 12 ADVERTISEMENT. P. S. — Nine years after the journey to the East on which this volume is based, I was enabled to revisit Palestine in attendance on His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. The tour was necessarily rapid, and was chiefly confined to scenes already familiar ; but it furnished, me with illustrations, or corrections, of what I had before described ; and some spots were seen which I had not been able to visit on the previous journey, and one of which (the Mosque of Hebron) I owe entirely to the privilege accorded to the Prince of Wales. The main topographical results of the journey are incor¬ porated in this edition ; though, for the convenience of those who have purchased the earlier editions, I have given the same, in substance, in my “ Lectures on the History of the Jewish Church, ” and in the Appendix to my “ Sermons in the East.” In these same nine years the Geography of Palestine has been almost rewritten. Not only have new discov¬ eries been made in every part (with which I have been hardly able to keep pace in the corrections of my suc¬ cessive editions), but the historical and topographical details of the subject have been worked up into a far more complete form than any to which I can lay claim. It is a satisfaction to me to think that this task has fallen to the lot of one to whose friendship I have been so greatly indebted in the present work, and that I may refer my readers, for anv shortcomings, to the numerous articles on Sacred Topography in the new “ Dictionary of the Bible ” signed by the well-known name of George Grove. Deanery, Westminster, January, 1864. PREFACE. THE CONNECTION OF SACRED HISTORY AND SACRED GEOGRAPHY The historical interest of Sacred Geography, though belonging in various degrees to Mesopotamia, Egypt, Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy, is, like the Sacred History itself, concentrated on the Peninsula of Sinai and on Palestine. Even in its natural aspect the topography of these two countries has features which would of themselves rivet our attention ; and on these, as the basis of all further inquiry, and as compared with similar features of other parts of the world, I have dwelt at some length.1 But to this singular conformation we have to add the fact that it has been the scene of the most important events in the history of man¬ kind ; and not only so, hut that the very fact of this local connection has occasioned a reflux of interest, another stage of history, which intermingles itself with the scenes of the older events, thus producing a tissue of local associations unrivalled in its length and complexity. Greece and Italy have geographical charms of a high order. But they have never provoked a Crusade ; and, however hitter may have been the disputes of antiquaries about the Acropolis of Athens or the Forum of Rome, they have never, as at Bethlehem and Jerusalem, become matters of religious controversy — grounds for interpreting old prophecies or producing new ones — cases for missions of diplomatists, or for the war of civilised nations. 1 See Chapters I. II. VII. and XIL 14 PREFACE. This interest in Sacred Geograpny, though in some respects repelled, yet in some respects is invited by the Scriptures themselves. From Genesis to the Apocalypse there are — even when not intending, nay, even when deprecating, any stress on the local associations of the events recorded — constant local allusions, such as are the natural result of a faithful, and, as is often the case in the Biblical narrative, of a contemporary history. There is one document in the Hebrew Scriptures to which prob¬ ably no parallel exists in the topographical records of any other ancient nation. In the Book of Joshua we have what may without offence be termed the Domesday Book of the conquest of Canaan. Ten chapters of that book are devoted to a description of the country, in which not only are its general features and boundaries carefully laid down, but the names and situations of its towns and villages enumerated with a precision of geographical terms which invites and almost compels a minute investigation. The numerous allusions in the Prophetical writings supply what in other countries would be furnished by the illustrations of poets and orators. The topographi¬ cal indications of the New Testament, it is true, are ex ceedingly slight ; and if it were not for the occurrence of the same names in the Old Testament or Josephus, it would often be impossible to identify them. But what the New Testament loses by the rarity of its allusions, it gains in their vividness ; and, moreover, its general history is connected with the geography of the scenes on which it was enacted, by a link arising directly from the nature of the Christian religion itself. That activity and practical energy, which is its chief outward characteristic, turns its PREFACE. 15 earliest records into a perpetual narrative of journeyings to and fro, by lake and mountain, over sea and land, that belongs to the history of no other creed. It is easy in all countries to exaggerate the points of connection between history and geography ; and in the case of Palestine especially, instances of this exaggeration have sometimes led to an undue depreciation of any such auxiliaries to the study of the Sacred History. But there are several landmarks which can be clearly defined. I. The most important results of an insight into Influence Snaihechaar'. the geographical features of any country are those which elucidate in any degree the general charac¬ ter of the nation to which it has furnished a home. If there be anything in the course of human affairs which brings us near to the ‘ divinity which shapes men’s ends, rough-hew them as they will,’ which indicates something of the prescience of their future course even at its very com¬ mencement, it is the sight of that framework in which the national character is enclosed, by which it is modified, beyond which it cannot develop itself. Such a forecast, as every one knows, can be seen in the early growth of the Homan commonwealth, and in the peculiar conformation and climate of Greece.1 The question which the geographer of the Holy Land, which the historian of the Chosen People has to propose to himself is, 6 Can such a connection be traced between the scenery, the features, the boundaries, the situ¬ ation of Sinai and of Palestine, on the one hand, and the history of the Israelites on the other ?’ It may be that there is much in one part of their history, and little in an- For tlio sake of convenience I may raphy of Greece,” in the first nunibei here refer to an essay on “ The Topog- of the Classical Museum. I 1(3 PREFACE. other ; least of all in its close, more in the middle part, most of all in its early beginnings. But whatever be the true answer, it cannot be indifferent to any one who wishes — whether from the divine or the human, from the theolog¬ ical or the historical point of view — to form a complete estimate of the character of the most remarkable nation which has appeared on the earth. If the grandeur and solitude of Sinai was a fitting preparation for the reception of the Decalogue and for the second birth of an infant na¬ tion ; if Palestine, by its central situation, by its separa¬ tion from the great civilised powers of the Eastern world, and by its contrast of scenery and resources both with the Desert and with the Egyptian and Mesopotamian empires, presents a natural home for the chosen people ; if its local features are such, as in any way constitute it the cradle of a faith that was intended to be universal ; its geography is not without interest, in this its most general aspect, both for the philosopher and theologian.1 II. Next to the importance of illustrating the Influence on forms of general character of a nation from its geographical exPression* situation is the importance of ascertaining how far the forms and expressions of its poetry, its philosophy, and its worship, have been affected by it. In Greece this was eminentlv the case. Was it so in Palestine ? It is not •/ enough to answer that the religion of the Jewish people same direct from God, and that the poetry of the Jewish prophets and psalmists was the immediate inspiration of God’s Spirit. In the highest sense, indeed, of the words this is most true. But it must be remembered, that as every one acknowledges that this religion and this inspira- 1 See Chapters I. and II PREFACE. 17 tion came through a human medium to men living in those particular ‘ times ’ of civilisation, and in those particular ‘bounds of habitation/ which God had ‘before appointed’ and ‘ determined’ for them, we cannot safely dispense with this or with any other means of knowing by what local in¬ fluences the Divine message was of necessity coloured in its entrance into the world.1 Again, as there are some who would exaggerate this local influence to the highest, and others who would depreciate it to the lowest degree possible, it is important to ascertain the real facts, whatever they may be, which may determine our judgment in arriv¬ ing at the proper mean. And lastly, as there was in the later developments of the history of Palestine, in the rab¬ binical times of the Jewish history, in the monastic and crusading times of the Christian history, an abundant litera¬ ture and mythology of purely human growth, it becomes a matter of at least a secondary interest to know how far the traditions and the institutions of those times have been fostered by local considerations.2 Explanations III. In the two points just noticed, the connec- of particular . events. tion between history and geography, if real, is es¬ sential. But this connection must always be more or less matter of opinion, and, for that very reason, is more open to fanciful speculation on the one side, and entire rejection on the other. There is however a connection less import¬ ant but more generally accessible and appreciable, that, namely, which, without actually causing or influencing, ex plains the events that have occurred in any particular locality. The most obvious example of this kind of concatenation between place and event is that between a battle and a 1 See Chapters II. an'l XIII. 2 See Chanters R II. and XIV. 18 PREFACE. battle-field, a campaign and the seat of war. No one can thoroughly understand the one without having seen or investigated the other. In some respects this mutual relation of action and locality is less remarkable in the simple warfare of ancient times than in the complicated tactics of modern times. But the course of armies, the use of cavalry and chariots, or of infantry, the sudden panics and successes of battle, are more easity affected by the natural features of a country in earlier than in later ages, and accordingly the conquest of Palestine by Joshua and the numerous battles in the plain of Esdraelon1 must be as indisputably illustrated by a view of the localities as the fights of Marathon or Thrasymenus. So again2 the boundaries of the different tribes, and the selection of the various capitals, must either receive considerable light from a consideration of their geographical circumstances, or, if not, a further question must arise why in each case such exceptions should occur to what is else the well-known and general rule which determines such events. It is to the middle history of Palestine and of Israel, the times of the monarchy, where historical incidents of this kind are re¬ lated in such detail as to present us with their various adjuncts, that this interest especially applies. But perhaps there is no incident of any magnitude, either of the New or Old Testament, to which it is not more or less appli¬ cable. Even in those periods and those events which are least associated with any special localities, namely the 1 See Chapters IV. VII. IX. and XI. wore so closely blended, it seemed most In these portions of the work I have natural not to attempt a separation, vontured on a more continuous naira- 2 See Chapters III. IV. V. VL VII I, tive than would elsewhere have been ad- and X. missible. Where history and geography PREFACE. 19 ministrations and journeys described in the Gospels and in the Acts, it is at least important to know the course of the ancient roads, the situation of the towns and villages, which must have determined the movements there de< scribed in one direction or another.1 IV. Those who visit or who describe the scenes Evidences of the tS£ of Sacred history expressly for the sake of finding tory. confirmations of Scripture, are often tempted to mislead themselves and others by involuntary exaggeration or invention. But this danger ought not to prevent us from thankfully welcoming any such evidences as can truly be found to the faithfulness of the Sacred records. One such aid is sometimes sought in the supposed fulfil¬ ment of the ancient prophecies by the appearance which some of the sites of Syrian or Arabian cities present to the modern traveller. But as a general rule these attempts are only mischievous to the cause which they intend to uphold. The present aspect of these sites may rather, for the most part, be hailed as a convincing proof that the Spirit of prophecy is not so to be bound down. The continuous existence of Damascus and Sidon, the existing ruins of Ascalon, Petra, and Tyre, showing the revival of those cities long after the extinction of the powers which they once represented, are standing monu¬ ments of a most important truth, namely that the warnings delivered by ‘holy men of old’ were aimed not against stocks and stones, but then, as always, against living souls and sins, whether of men or of nations.2 But there is a more satisfactory 6 evidence’ to be derived from a view of the sacred localities, which has hardly been 1 See Chapters VI. and XIII. * See Chapters VI. and X. 20 PREFACE. enough regarded by those who have written on the subject Facts, it is said, are stubborn, and geographical facts hap¬ pily the most stubborn of all. We cannot wrest them to meet our views ; but neither can we refuse the cc nclusions they force upon us. It is by more than a figure of speech that natural scenes are said to have 6 witnessed’ the events which occurred in their presence. They are c witnesses’ which remain when the testimony of men and books has perished. They can be cross-examined with the alleged facts and narratives. If they cannot tell the whole truth, at any rate, so far as they have any voice at all, they tell nothing but the truth. If a partial advocate like Volney on one side, or Keith on the other, has extorted from them a reluctant or partial testimony, they still remain to be examined again and again by each succeeding traveller* correcting, elucidating, developing the successive deposi¬ tions which they have made from age to age. It is impossible not to be struck, by the constant agree¬ ment between the recorded history and the natural geog¬ raphy both of the Old and New Testament. To find a marked correspondence between the scenes of the Sinaitic mountains and the events of the Israelite wanderings is not much perhaps, but it is certainly something towards a proof of the truth of the whole narrative.1 To meet in the Gospels allusions, transient but yet precise, to the lo¬ calities of Palestine, inevitably suggests the conclusion of their early origin, while Palestine was still familiar and accessible, while the events themselves were still recent in the minds of the writers.2 The detailed harmony between 1 See Chapter I. 3 See Chapters III. V X. PREFACE. 21 the life of Joshua and the various scenes of his battles,1 is a slight but true indication that we are dealing not with shadows, hut with realities of flesh and blood. Such coin¬ cidences are not usually found in fables, least of all iu fables of Eastern origin. If it is important to find that the poetical imagery of \he proplietical hooks is not to he measured by the rules of prose, it is not less important to find that the historical books do not require the latitude of poetry. Here and there, hyperbolical expressions may appear ; but, as a gen¬ eral rule, their sobriety is evidenced by the actual scenes of Palestine, as clearly as that of Thucydides by the topography of Greece and Sicily. That the writers of the Old and New Testament should have been preserved from the extravagant statements made on these subjects by their Rabbinical countrymen,2 or even by Josephus, is, at least, a proof of the comparative calmness and elevation of spirit in which the Sacred books were composed. The copyists who, according to Origen, changed the name of 66 Bethabara” into “ Bethania,” or “ Gergesa” into “ Gadara,” because they thought only of the names3 most familiar to their ears, without remembering the actual position of the places, committed (if so be) the error into which the Evangelists were almost sure to have been betrayed had they com posed their narratives in the second century, in some city of Asia Minor or Egypt. The impossible situations in numerous instances selected by the inventors of so-called 1 See Chapters IV. VII. XI. ficial area of Palestine is 1,440,000 Eng- 2 It is said, for example, by Rabbin- lish square miles. (Scwarze, p. 30.) In leal authors, that Hebron could bo Josephus may bo instanced the exagge- seen from Jerusalem ; that the music rated descriptions of the precipices round of the Temple could be heard at Jericho Jerusalem. (Ant. XV. ii. 5.) (Joma iii. 2, Tamid iii. 2); that the super- 3 See Chanters VII and X. 22 PREFACE. traditional sanctuaries or scenes, from the fourth centurj downwards — at Nazareth,1 at Tahor,2 on Olivet,3 at the Jordan4 — are so many testimonies to the authenticity of the Evangelical narratives, which have in every case avoided the natural snares into which their successors have fallen. This kind of proof will have a different kind of -value in the eyes of different persons. To some, the amount of testimony thus rendered will appear either superfluous or trivial ; to others, the mere attempt to define sacred history by natural localities and phenomena will seem derogatory to their ideal or divine character. But it will, at least, be granted that this evidence is, so far as it goes, incontestable. Wherever a story, a character, an event, a book, is involved in the conditions of a spot or scene still in existence, there is an element of fact which no theory or interpretation can dissolve. “If these should hold their peace, the stones would immediately cry out.” This testi¬ mony may even be more important when it explains, than when it refuses to explain, the peculiar characteristics of the history. If, for example, the aspect of the ground should, in any case, indicate that some of the great wonders in the history of the Chosen People were wrought through means which, in modern language, would be called natural, we must remember that such a discovery is, in fact, an in¬ direct proof of the general truth of the narrative. We can¬ not call from the contemporary world of man any witnesses to the passage of the Bed Sea, or to the overthrow of the cities of the plain, or to the passage of the Jordan. So much the more welcome are any witnesses from the world 8 See Chapters IIL and XIV. 11 See Chapter VIL 1 See Chapter X 8 See Chapter IX PREFACE. 23 of nature, to testify on the spot to the mode in which the events are described to have occurred ; witnesses the more credible, because their very existence was unknown to those by whom the occurrences in question were described. Some change may thus be needful in our mode of conceiv¬ ing the events. But we shall gain more than we shall lose. Their moral and spiritual lessons will remain un¬ altered : the framework of their outward form will receive the only confirmation of which the circumstances of the case can now admit. The Sacred story would doubtless become more marvellous if it were found to be in direct contradiction to natural features now existing ; if Egypt had no river, Sinai no mountains, Palestine no rocks, springs, or earthquakes. But it would be not only less credible, but less consistent with itself, and less fitted for the instruction and guidance of men. V. Even where there is no real connection, either Illustra- Bcenes f by way °f cause or explanation, between the local¬ ities and the events, there remains the charm of more vividly realising the scene ; if only that we may be sure that we have left no stone unturned in our approach to what has passed away. Even when, as in the last period of the Sacred History, local associations can hardly be sup¬ posed to have exercised any influence over the minds of tho actors, or the course of events, it is still an indescribable pleasure to know what was the outline of landscape, what the colour of the hills and fields, what the special objects, far or near, that met the eve of those of whom we read. There is, as one of the profound est historical students of our day1 well observes, a satisfaction in treading the soil 1 Palgrave’s History of Normandy and England, l 123. 24 PREFACE. and breathing the atmosphere of historical persons or events, like that which results from familiarity with their actual language and with their contemporary chronicles. And this pleasure is increased in proportion as the events in question occurred not within perishable or perished buildings, but on the unchanging scenes of nature ; on the Sea of Galilee, and Mount Olivet, and at the foot of Geri- zim, rather than in the house of Pilate, or the inn of Beth¬ lehem, or the garden of the Holy Sepulchre, even were the localities now shown as such ever so genuine. This interest pervades every stage of the Sacred History, from the earliest to the latest times, the earliest, perhaps the most, because then the events more frequently occurred in connection with the free and open scenery of the country, which we still have before us. It is also a satisfaction which extends in some measure beyond the actual localities of events to those which are merely alleged to be such, a consideration not without importance in a country where so much is shown of doubtful authenticity, yet the objects of centuries of veneration. Such spots have become themselves the scenes of a history, though not of that history for which they claim attention ; and to see and understand what it was that has for ages delighted the eyes and moved the souls of thousands of mankind is instructive, though in a different way from that intended by those who selected these sites.1 In one respect the site and description of Eastern countries lends itself more than that of any other country to this use of historical geography. Doubtless there are many alterations, some of considerable importance, in the PREFACE. 25 vegetation, the climate, the general aspect of these coun¬ tries, since the clays of the Old and New Testament.1 2 But, on the other hand, it is one of the great charms of Eastern travelling, that the framework of life, of customs, of manners, even of dress and speech, is still substantially the same as it was ages ago. Something, of course, in representing the scenes of the New Testament, must he sought from Homan and Grecian usages now extinct ; but the Bedouin tents are still the faithful reproduction of the outward life of the patriarchs — the vineyards, the corn¬ fields, the houses, the wells of Syria still retain the out¬ ward imagery of the teaching of Christ and the Apostles ; and thus the traveller’s mere passing glances at Oriental customs, much more the detailed accounts of Lane and of Burckhardt, contain a mine of Scriptural illustration which it is an unworthy superstition either to despise or to fear.3 VI. Finally, there is an interest attaching to Poetical faXeTthe’ sacred geography hard to be expressed in words, but which cannot be altogether overlooked, and is brought home with especial force to the Eastern traveller. It has been well observed3 that the poetical events of the Sacred History, so far from being an argument against its Divine origin, are striking proofs of that universal Provi- 1 See Chapters I. II. X. 2 Although the nature of the work has not permitted me to enlarge on this source of knowledge, I cannot refrain from acknowledging the great advantage I derived from the opportu¬ nities of constant intercourse with at least one genuine Oriental — in the person of our faithful and intelligent Arab servant, Mokamed of Ghizeh. 3 Milman’s History of Christianity, vol. i. p. 131. “ This language of poetic incident, and, if I may so speak, of imagery .... was the vernacular tongue of Christianity, universally intel¬ ligible and responded to by the human heart throughout many centuries. . . . . The incidents were so ordered, that they should thus live in the thoughts of men ; the revelation itself was so adjusted and arranged that it might insure its continued existence.” 26 PREFACE. deuce by which the religionof the Bible was adopted to suit, not one class of mind only, but many in every age of time. As with the history, so also is it with the geography. Not only has the long course of ages invested the prospects and scenes of the Holy Land with poetical and moral associa¬ tions, but these scenes lend themselves to such parabolical adaptation with singular facility. Far more closely as in some respects the Greek and Italian geography intertwines itself with the history and religion of the two countries ; yet when we take the proverbs, the apologues, the types, furnished even by Parnassus and Helicon, the Capitol and the Rubicon, they bear no comparison with the appropri¬ ateness of the corresponding figures and phrases borrowed from Arabian and Syrian topography, even irrespectively of the wider diffusion given them by our greater familiar¬ ity with the Scriptures. The passage of the Red Sea — “ the wilderness” of life — the “ R ock of Ages” — Mount Sinai and its terrors — the view from Pisgah — the passage of the Jordan — the rock of Zion, and the fountain of Siloa — the lake of Gennesareth, with its storms, its waves, and its fishermen, are well-known instances in which the local features of the Holy Land have naturally become the household imagery of Christendom. In fact, the whole journey, as it is usually taken by modern travellers, presents the course of the history in a living parable before us, to which no other journey or pilgrimage can present any parallel. In its successive scenes, as in a mirror, is faithfully reflected the dramatic unity and progress which . so remarkably characterises the Sacred History. The primeval world of Egypt is with us, as with the Israelites, the starting-point — the PREFACE. 27 contrast — of all that follows. With us, as with them, the Pyramids recede, and the Desert begins, and the wilder¬ ness melts into the hills of Palestine, and Jerusalem is the climax of the long ascent, and the consummation of the Gospel History presents itself locally, no less than historically, as the end of the Law and the Prophets. And with us, too, as the glory of Palestine fades away into the c common day’ of Asia Minor and the Bosphorus, gleams of the Eastern light still continue — first in the Apostolical labours, then, fainter and dimmer, in the beginnings of ecclesiastical history, — Ephesus, Nicsea, Chalcedon, Con¬ stantinople ; and the life of European scenery and of Western Christendom completes by its contrast what Egypt and the East had begun. In regular succession at 66 sundry” and “ divers” places, no less than “ in sundry times and divers manners” “ God spake in times past to our fathers ;” and the local, as well as the historical diversity, is necessary to the ideal richness and complete¬ ness of the whole. These are the main points, which, in a greater or less degree, are brought out in the following pages. One observation must be made in conclusion. A work of bhis kind, in which the local description is severed from the history, must necessarily bear an incoherent and frag¬ mentary aspect. It is the frame without the picture — the skeleton without the flesh — the stage without the drama. The materials of a knowledge of the East are worthily turned to their highest and most fitting use only when employed for a complete representation of the Sacred History as drawn out in its full proportions from the con- 28 PREFACE. densed and scattered records of the Scriptures. Without in the least degree overloading the narrative with illus¬ trations which do not belong to it, there is hardly any limit to the legitimate advantage derived by the historical and theological student from even such a transient glimpse of Eastern life and scenery, as that which forms the basis of the present volume. It is not so much in express elucida¬ tion that this additional power is felt, as in the * incidental turn of a sentence — in the appreciation of the contrast between the East and West, of the atmosphere, and the character of the people and the country — in the new knowledge of expressions, of images, of tones, and coun¬ tenances, which in a merely abstract work like this can have no place. So to delineate the outward events of the Old and New Testament, as that they should come home with a new power to those who by long familiarity have almost ceased to regard them as historical truth at all — so to bring out their inward spirit that the more complete real¬ isation of their outward form should not degrade but exalt the faith of which they are the vehicle, — this would indeed be an object worthy of all the labour which travellers and theologians have ever bestowed on the East. The present work is but a humble contribution towards this great end. It is an attempt to leave on record, how¬ ever imperfectly, and under necessary disadvantages, some at least of the impressions, whilst still fresh in the memory, which it seemed ungrateful to allow wholly to pass away. Its object wTill be accomplished, if it brings any one with fresh interest to the threshold of the Divine story, which has many approaches, as it has many mansions ; which the more it is exjdored the more it gives out; which, even PREFACE. 29 when seen in close connection with the local associations from which its spirit holds most aloof, is still capable of imparting to them, and of receiving from them a poetry, a life, an instruction, such as has fallen to the lot of no other history in the world. EGYPT. Psalm cxiy. 1 : — Israel came out of Egypt, and the house of acob from among the strange people. EGYPT IN RELATION TO SINAI AND PALESTINE. 1. First Yiew of the Nile in the Delta. — 2. Yiew from the Citadel of Cairo. — 3. Helio¬ polis (or On). — L The Nile Yalloy. — 5. The Tombs of Beni-IIassan. — 6. The Tombs and the Hermits. — I. Thebes — Colossal Statues. — 8. Thebes — Karnac and the Roya. Tombs. — 9. Nile at Silsilis. — 10. At the first Cataract. — 11. Philoe. — 12. Nile at Nubia. — 13. Ipsambul. — 14. Nile at the second Cataract. — 15. Dendera. — 16. Mem¬ phis. — 17. The Pyramids. INTRODUCTION". EGYPT IN ITS RELATION TO SINAI AND PALESTINE. Egypt, amongst its many other aspects of interest, has this special claim — that it is the background of the whole history of the Israelites ; the land to which, next after Palestine, their thoughts either by way of contrast or association immediately turned. Even in the New Testa¬ ment the connection is not wholly severed ; and the Evangelist emphatically plants in the first page of the Gospel History the prophetical text which might well stand as the inscription over the entrance to the Old Dispensation — “ Out of Egypt have I called my Son.” Doubtless some light must be reflected on the national feelings of Israel by their Mesopotamian origin ; and when in the second great exile from the Land of Promise they found themselves once more on the shores of the Euphrates, it is possible that their original descent from these regions quickened their interest in their new settlement, and con¬ firmed that attachment to the Babylonian soil which made it in later times the chief seat of Jewish life external to the boundaries of Palestine. But these points of contact with the remote East were too distant from the most stirring and the most brilliant epochs of their history to produce any definite result. Not so Egypt. The first migration of Abraham from Chaldoea is one continued advance southward, till he reaches the valley of the Nile ; and when he reaches it he finds there a kingdom, which must have been to the wandering tribes of Asia what the Roman empire was to the Celtic and Gothic races when 34 INTRODUCTION. they first crossed the Alps. Egypt it to them the land Df plenty, whilst the neighbouring nations starve ; its long strip of garden-land was the Oasis of the primitive world ; through Abraham’s eyes we first see the ancient Pharaoh, with palace and harem and princes, and long trains of slaves and beasts of burden, so familiar to the traveller in the sculptured processions and sacred images of Thebes and Ipsambul. What Abraham had begun, was yet further carried on by Jacob and Joseph. Whatever may have been the relations of this great Israelite migration to the dynasty of the Shepherd kings, — there can be no doubt that during the period of the settlement in Goshen, Egypt became 66 the Holy Land the Israelites to all outward appearance became Egyptians ; Joseph in his robes of white, and royal ring — son-in-law of the High Priest of On — was incorporated into the reigning caste, as truly as any of the figures whom we see in the Theban tombs. The sepulchres of Machpelah and Shechem received, in tho remains of himself and his father, embalmed Egyptian mummies. The shepherds who wandered over the pastures of Goshen were as truly Egyptian Bedouins, as those who of old fed their flocks around the Pyramids, or who now, since the period of the Mussulman conquest, have spread through the whole country. As from that long exile or bondage the Exodus was the great deliverance, so against the Egyptian worship and imagery the history of the Law in Sinai is a perpetual protest, though with occasional resemblances which set off the greater difference ; — against the scenery of Egypt Ml the scenery of the Desert and of Palestine is put in continual contrast, though with occasional allusions which show that their ancient home was not forgotten. To that home, the heart of the people, as at first, so afterwards, was always “ turning back.” The reign of Solomon, the revival of the Egyptian animal-worship by Jeroboam, the leaning on ‘ the broken reed’ of the Nile in the Egyptian alliances of Hezekiah and Jehoiakim, interweave in later times the fortunes of the two nations, which else had parted for ever on the shores of the Bed Sea. And in the new Egypt of the Ptolemies arose the second settlement of EGYPT. 35 the Jews in the same land of Goshen, destined to exercise so important an influence on the last and greatest stage of their history by the Alexandrian translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, and by the Alexandrian forms first of Jewish and afterwards of Christian philosophy. Egypt, therefore, is a fitting, it may almcst be called a necessary, prelude to Sinai and Palestine. Even the outward features of those countries, in their historical connection, cannot be properly appreciated without some endeavour to conceive the aspect which the valley of the Nile, with its singular imagery and scenery, offered to the successive generations of Israel. To give such a picture in its full proportions would not be consistent with the object or limits of the present work. But, as no view of the Holy Land can for the reasons above stated be complete without a glance at what may be called its mother coun¬ try, I have ventured to throw together a few extracts from many letters written on the spot. The fragmentary and prefatory form in which they are presented, will best explain their purpose, and excuse their superficial character. They contain no detailed discussions of Egyptian archaeology or geography, but are almost entirely confined to such general views of the leading features of the country, in its river and its monuments,1 as will render intelligible any subsequent allusions. 1 For tho points of contact between Egyptian and Israelite history, tho reader is referred to Ilengstonberg’s “ Egypt and the Books of Moses:” for the general impression of Egypt on Palestine, to the 18th and 19th chapters of Isaiah, and the 29th, 30th, and 31st of Ezekiel, with the usual commentaries. The only di^ct illustration of Jewish history con¬ tained in the monuments is the procession of Shishak and Ammon with the king of Judah amongst the prisoners, on one of the outer walls of Karnac. It may be worth while to mention, that this sculpture, which is incorrectly given by Champollion- Figeac and by Dr. Robinson, is accurately represented, from Rosellini, in Kenrick’s Egypt, vol. ii. p. 349. 3G INTRODUCTION. 1. NILE IN TIIE DELTA. Tlie eastern sky w as red with the early dawn ; we were on the broad waters of the Nile — or rather, its Rosetta branch. The first thing which struck me was its size. Greater than the Rhine, Rhone, or Danube, one perceives what a sea-like stream it must have appeared to Greeks and Italians, who had seen nothing larger than the narrow and precarious torrents of their own mountains and valleys. As the light broke, its colour gradually revealed itself, — -brown like the Tiber, only of a darker and richer hue — no strong current, only a slow, vast, volume of water, mild and beneficent as the statue in the Vatican, steadily flowing on between its two almost uniform banks, which rise above it much like the banks of a canal, though in some places with terraces or strips of earth, marking the successive stages of the flood. These banks form the horizon on either side, and therefore you can have no notion of the country beyond ; but they are varied by a suc¬ cession of eastern scenes — villages of mud, like ant-hills, with human beings creeping about, like ants, except in numbers and activity — mostly, however, distinguished by the minaret of a well-built mosque, or the white oven-like dome of a sheyklTs tomb ; mostly, also, screened by a grove of palms, sometimes intermixed with feathery tamarisks, and the thick foliage of the carob-tree or the sycomore. Verdure, where it is visible, is light green, but the face of the bank is usually brown. Along the top of the banks move, like scenes in a magic lantern, and as if cut out against the sky, groups of Arabs, with their two or three asses, a camel, or a buffalo. 2. VIEW FROM TIIE CITADEL OF CAIRO. The citadel, which stands on a low ridge of rocky hills on the east of the town, commands the whole. The town is a vast expanse of brown, broken only by occasional interludes of palms or sycomores, and by the countless minarets. About half a dozen larger buildings, mosques or palaces, also emerge. On each side rises shapeless mounds, — those on the east covered with tents, and, dimly seen beyond, the browner line of the Desert ; those on the west, the site of Old Cairo, the site of the Roman fortress of Babylon, and of Fostat, where Amrou first pitched his tent, — deserted since the time of Saladin. Beyond is the silver line of the Nile; and then rising in three successive groups, above the delicate green plain which sweeps along nearly to the foot of the African hills, the pyramids of Abusir Sakarah, and Ghizeh, these last being “ The / EnYPT. 37 Pyramids,” and the nearest. There is something very striking in their total disconnection with Cairo. They stand alone on the edge of that green vale, which is Egypt. There is no intermingling, as in ancient and modern Rome. It is as if you looked out on Stonehenge from London, or as if the Colosseum stood far away in the depths of the Campagna. Cairo is not “the ghost of the dead Egyptian Empire,” nor anything like it. Cairo itself leaves a deep feeling that, whatever there was of greatness or wisdom in those remote ages and those gigantic monuments, is now the inheritance, not of the East, but of the West. The Nile, as it glides between the tombs of the Pharaohs and the city of the Caliphs, is indeed a boundary between two worlds. 3. HELIOPOLIS. To-day was our first expedition into the real “Land of Egypt,” Through two hours of green fields, — green with corn and clover, — avenues of tamarisk, fig-trees, and acacia; along causeways raised high above these fields, — that is, above the floods of the summer inundations, — we rode to Heliopolis. At every turn there was the grateful sound of little rills of living water, worked by water-wheels, .and falling in gentle murmurs down into these little channels along the roadside, whence they fell off into the fields, or the canals. The sides of these canals were black with the deep soil of the land of Ham. Beyond was the green again, and, close upon that, like the sea breaking upon the shore, or (to compare what is the most like it in England, though on a very small scale) the Cornish sand¬ hills overhanging the brook of Perranzabuloe, rose the yellow hills of the hazy desert. At the very extremity of this cultivated ground are the ruins of On or Heliopolis. They consist simply of a wide enclosure of earthen mounds, partly planted with gardens. In these gardens are two vestiges of the great Temple of the Sun, the high-priest of which was father-in-law of Joseph, and, in later times, the teacher of Moses. One is a pool, overhung with willows and aquatic vegetation, — the spring of the Sun. The other, now rising wild amidst garden shrubs, the solitary obelisk which stood in front of the temple, then in company with another, whose base alone now remains. This is the first obelisk I have seen standing in its proper place, and there it has stood for nearly four thousand years. It is the oldest known in Egypt, and therefore in the world, — the father of all that have arisen since. It was raised about a century before tbe coming of Joseph: it has looked down on his marriage with Asenath ; it has seen the 38 INTRODUCTION. growth of Moses ; it is mentioned by Herodotus ; Plato sate under its shadow : of all the obelisks which sprang up around it, it alone has kept its first position. One by one, it has seen its sons and brothers depart to great destinies elsewhere. From these gardens came the obelisks of the Lateran, of the Vatican, and of the Porta del Popolo ; and this venerable pillar (for so it looks from a dis¬ tance) is now almost the only landmark of the great seat of the wisdom of Egypt. But I must not forget the view from the walls. Putting out of sight the minarets of Cairo in the distance, it was the same that Joseph and Moses had as they looked out towards Memphis, — the sandy desert ; the green fields of Egypt ; and, already in their time ancient, the Pyramids in the distance. This is the first day that has really given me an impression of their size. In this view the two great pyramids stand so close together, that they form one bifurcated cone; and this cone does, indeed, look like a solitary peak rising over the plain, — like Etna from the sea. On the other side, in the yellow desert, seen through the very stems of the palm- trees, rise three rugged sand-hills, indicating the site of Leontopolis, the City of the Sacred Lions ; where in after times rose the second colony and temple of the Jews under Onias. One more object I must mention, though of doubtful interest, and thus, unlike the certainties that I have just been describing. In a garden, immediately outside the walls, is an ancient fig-tree, its immense gnarled trunk covered with the names of travellers (in form not unlike the sacred Ash of the sources of the Danube), 'where Coptic belief and the tradition of the Apocryphal Gospels fix the refuge of Mary and Joseph on the flight into Egypt. There can, of course, be no proof, but it reminds us that, for the first time, our eyes may have seen the same outline that was seen by our Lord. 4. THE NILE VALLEY. I am now confined within the valley of the Nile — I may say literally confined. Never in my life have I travelled continuously along a single valley with all the outer world so completely shut off. Between two limestone ranges, which form part of the table-land of the Arabian and African desert, flows the mighty river, which the Egyptians called Hapi-Mu, “ the genius of the waiters;” which the Hebrews called sometimes “lor,” from some unknown meaning, — sometimes “ Sihor,” 1 the black/ Its brown colour, seen from the heights on either side and contrasted with the still browner and blacker colours of all around it, seems as blue and bright as the rivers of the North; hence, some say, the word “ Nile/' which is the form adopted by the Greeks, and by all the world since. / E GYPT - |jM JE^USALi .Ml ETTA ALEXANDRIA •TIN EH o ELAglSH TEMSAH LAKES , L//V i:>W oHELf^gOUi 1 R ° Musi A PVfi/(WD£*^\Sef *Hf0 qji ira oiiu a^o lJ ?' -W.il>.. /wiENfpffts J.Afltf DER. Jwwiw BENISOtiEE] ABU CIRfl t . w? g&> %*%'%# fe ^ WESTERN OASL EL KARi oAsn ABU SIMBU4 (IPSAM^Uli? y ■. ■ |i V/ady. CORD CAtARA PORPHYR ITIC GRANITE CRANITE SANDSTONE LIMESTONE VEGETATION SAND GRAVEL W EL SEL/MM OASIS 'd 30 EGYPT. 39 The two limestone ranges press it at unequal intervals, sometimes leaving a space of a few miles, sometimes of a few yards, sometimes even a large plain. They are truly parts of a table-mountain. Hardly ever is their horizontal line varied ; the only change in them is their nearer or less approach to the stream. In this respect the eastern range is a much greater offender than the western, and therefore the great line of Egyptian cities is on the western, not on the eastern shore ; and hence Egypt has never, in its poli deal divis¬ ions, followed the two shores, but the upper and lower course of the river. On the other hand, the western range, where it does approach, is more formidable, because it comes clothed with the sands of the African desert — sands and sand-drifts, which in purity, in brightness, in firmness, in destructiveness, are the snows and glaciers of the South. Immediately above the brown and blue waters of the broad, calm, lake-like river, rises a thick, black bank of clod or mud, mostly in terraces. Green — unutterably green — - mostly at the top of these banks, though sometimes creeping down to the water's edge, lies the Land of Egypt. Green — unbroken, save by the mud villages which here and there lie in the midst of the verdure, like the marks of a soiled foot on a rich carpet ; or by the dykes and channels which convey the life-giving waters through the thirsty land. This is the Land of Egypt, and this is the memo¬ rial of the yearly flood. Up those black terraces, over those green fields, the water rises and descends ; Et viridem vEgyptum nigra foecundat arena.” And not only when the flood is actually there, but throughout the whole year, is water continually ascending through innumerable wheels worked by naked figures, as the Israelites of old u in the service of the field," and then flowing on in gentle rills through the various allotments. To the seeds of these green fields, to the fishes of the wide river, is attached another natural phenomenon, which I never saw equalled : — the numbers numberless, of all manner of birds — vultures, and cormorants, and geese, flying like constella¬ tions through the blue heavens ; pelicans standing in long array on the ■water side ; hoopoos and ziczacs, and the (so-called) white ibis, the gentle symbol of the god Osiris in his robes of white, — h nooiv kXvfievoL — walking under one's very feet. 5. THE TOMBS OF BENI-IIASSAN. High along the eastern shore — sometimes varied by a green strip of palms, sometimes a sheer slope of Desert-sand, broken only by the shadow of a solitary Arab — rises a white wall of limestone rock. In the face of this cliff are thirty holes — the famous tombs of Beni- 40 INTRODUCTION. Hassan, that is, the children of Hassan, the wild Arab- tribe once settled near the spot. These tombs of Beni-Hassan are amongst the oldest monuments of Egypt, during or before the time of Joseph, yet exhibiting, in the most lively manner, hunting, wrestling, and dancing — and curious as showing how gay and agile these ancient people could be, who in their architecture and graver sculptures appear so solemn and immoveable. Except a doubtful figure of Osiris in one, and a mummy on a barge in another, there is nothing of death or judgment or sorrow. Every one looks here for the famous procession long supposed to be the presentation of Joseph’s brethren to Pharaoh. Clearly it cannot be this. Besides the difference of numbers, and of gifts, and of name, there is no presentation to any one. The procession is in one of three compartments ; the two lower show the ordinary droves of oxen and Egyptian servants, all equally relevant or irrelevant to the colossal figure of the owner of the tomb, who stands in the corner towering above the rest, with his dog by his side. Possibly, as the procession is of Asiatics — and yet not prisoners of war — they may, if the date will admit, be a deputation of Israelites after their settlement in Goshen. 6. THE TOMBS AND HERMITS. The rocky wall still continues on the eastern side, still called by the names of successive Sheykhs or hermits who have lived or died on its desert heights — still perforated by the square holes which indicate ancient tombs. This eastern range is thus the long ceme- tery, the Appian Way, the Valley of Jehoshaphat of Egypt. It is, indeed, the Land of the Dead. Israel might well ask, u Because there were no grayes in Egypt, hast thou brought us to die in the wilderness?’5 The present use of the tombs also brings before us how those deserted dwellings of the dead made Egypt the natural parent of anchorites and monks. In one of these caves, close by the water’s edge, lived for twelve years Sheykh Hassan, with his wife, two daughters, and his son — a hermit, though according to the Mahometan notions which permitted him still to have his family about him. Below was a little island, which he cultivated for lentiles. The two daughters at last married into the village on the opposite shore, which here, as usual, spreads out its green plain over against the white cliffs of the eastern bank, where the only mark of the fertilising inun¬ dation is in the brown discoloration which bears the trace of its rise immediately above the river — here alone unprofitable, or profitable only to such little portions of soil as the hermit had rescued. He still lived on with his wife and the little boy. One day the EGYPT. 41 child climbed down the rocks to play on the island — a crocodile came and carried him oft'. “ This was four years ago ; and, “from that time, said the Arabs, who related the story, “ the Shcykli is gone — we have seen him no more — he took everything away ; and as soon as he was gone, the river washed away the island,” and now nothing is left but the empty cave. 7. COLOSSAL STATUES OF THEBES. (first visit.) No written account has given me an adequate impression of the effect, past and present, of the colossal figures of the Kings. What spires are to a modern city, — what the towers of a cathedral are to its nave and choir, — that the statues of the Pharaohs were to the streets and temples of Thebes. The ground is strewed with their fragments : there were avenues of them towering high above plain and houses. Three of gigantic size still remain. One was the granite statue of Raineses himself, who sate on the right side of the entrance to his palace. By some extraordinary catastrophe, the statue has been thrown down, and the Arabs have scooped their millstones out of his face, but you can still see what he was, — the largest statue in the world. Far and wide that enormous head must have been seen. / eyes, mouth, and ears. Far and wide you must have^seen his vast hands resting on his elephantine knees. You sit on his breast and look at the Osiride statues which support the portico of the temple, and which anywhere else would put to shame even the statues of the cherubs in St. Peter’s — and they seem pigmies before him. Plis arm is thicker than their whole bodies. The only part of the templo or palace at all in proportion to him must have been the gateway, which rose in pyramidal towers, now broken down, and rolling in a wild ruin down to the plain. Nothing which now exists in the world can give any notion of what the effect must have been when he was erect. Nero towering above the Colosseum may have been something like it ; but he was of bronze, nd Raineses was of solid granite. Nero was standing without any object ; Rameses was resting in awful majesty after the conquest ot the whole of the then known world. No one who entered that build¬ ing, whether it were temple or palace, could have thought of any¬ thing else but that stupendous being who thus had raised himself up above the whole world of gods and men. And when from the statue you descend to the palace, the same impression is kept up. It is the earliest instance of the enshrine¬ ment in Art of the historical glories of a nation, such as Versailles. Everywhere the King is conquering, worshipping, ruling. The Palace 42 INTRODUCTION. is the Temple — the King is Priest. But everywhere the same colossaj proportions are preserved. He and his horses are ten times the size of the rest of the army. Alike in battle and in worship, he is of the same stature as the gods themselves. Most striking is the familiar gentleness with which — one on each side — they take him by each hand, as one of their own order, and then in the next compartment introduce him to Ammon and the lion-headed goddess. Every distinction, except of degree, between divinity and royalty, is entirely levelled, and the royal majesty is always represented by making the King, not like Saul or Agamemnon, from the head and shoulders, but from the foot and ancle upwards, higher than the rest of the people. It carries one back to the days “ when there were giants on the earth.” It shows how the King, in that first monarchy, was the visible God upon earth. The only thing like it that has since been seen is the deification of the Roman emperors. No pure Monotheism could for a moment have been compatible with such an intense exal¬ tation of the conquering King. a I am Pharaoh;” ££ By the life of Pharaoh;” ££ Say unto Pharaoh, Whom art thou like in thy great¬ ness?”1 — all these expressions seem to acquire new life from the sight of this monster statue. And now let us pass to the two others. They are the only statues remaining of an avenue of eighteen similar, or nearly similar, statues, some of whose remnants lie in the field behind them which led to the palace of Amenophis III., every one of the statues being Amenophis himself, thus giving in multiplication what Rameses gained in solitary elevation. He lived some reigns earlier than Rameses, and the statues are of ruder workmanship and coarser stone. To me they were much more striking close at hand when their human forms were distinctly visible, than at a distance, when they looked only like two towers or landmarks. The sun was setting ; the African range glowed red behind them ; the green plain wTas dyed with a deeper green beneath them ; and the shades of evening veiled the vast rents and fissures in their aged frames. They, too, sit, hands on knees, and they too are sixty feet high. As I looked back at them in the sunset, and they rose up in front of the background of the mountain, they seemed, indeed, as if they were part of it, — as if they belonged to some natural creation rather than to any work of art. And yet, as I have said, when anywhere in their neighbourhood, the human character is never lost. Their faces are dreadfully mutilated ; indeed, the largest has no face at all, but is from the waist upwards a mass of stones or rocks piled together in the form of a human head and a body. Still, especially in that dim light, and from their lofty thrones, they seem to have faces, only of hideous and grinning ugliness. 1 Gen. xli. 44; xlii. 15, 16. Ezek. xxxi. 2. EGYPT. 43 And now, who was it that strewed the plain with their countless fragments ? Who had power to throw down the Colossus of Ra¬ ineses? Who broke the statue of Amenophis from the middle up¬ wards? From the time of the Roman travellers, who have carved their names in verses innumerable on the foot of Amenophis, there has been but one answer, — Cambyses. He was, in the traditions of that time, the Cromwell of Egypt. It is possible that Raineses, it is probable that Amenophis, was shattered by earthquakes. But the recollection of Cambyses shows the feeling he had left while here, as the great Iconoclast. What an effort this implies of fanatical or religious zeal ! What an impression it gives of that Persian hatred of idols, which is described in the Bible, only here carried to excess against these majestic kings : “ Bel boweth down, and Nebo stoopeth.”1 Well might the idols of Babylon tremble before Cyrus, if such was the fate of the Egyptian Pharaohs before Cambyses. 8. THEBES, KARNAC, AND THE ROYAL TOMBS. (second visit.) Alone of the cities of Egypt, the situation of Thebes is as beautiful by nature as by art. The monotony of the two mountain ranges, Libyan and Arabian, for the first time assumes a new and varied character. They each retire from the river, forming a circle round the wide green plain : the western rising into a bolder and more massive barrier, and closing in the plain at its northern extremity as by a natural bulwark; the eastern further withdrawn, but acting the same part to the view of Thebes as die Argolic mountains to the plain of Athens, or the Alban hills to Rome — a varied and bolder chain, rising and falling in almost Giocian outline, though cast in the conical form which marks the hills of Nubia further south, and which, perhaps, suggested the Pyramids. Within the circle of those two ranges, thus peculiarly its own, stretches the green plain on each side the river to an unusual extent ; and on each side of the river, in this respect unlike Memphis, but like the great city of the further East on the Euphrates, — like the cities of north¬ ern Europe on their lesser streams — spread the city of Thebes, with the Nile for its mighty thoroughfare. “Art thou better than ‘No- Amon’ — that was situated by the ‘ rivers of the Nile’ — that had the waters round about it — whose rampart was ‘the sealike stream,5 and whose wall was the ‘ sealike stream?’ ”2 “Thebes” proper, “ Taba,” the capital — No- Amon (the Hebrew name of Thebes) the sanctuary of Ammon — stood on the eastern plain. This sanctuary, as founded by Osirtasen in the time of Joseph, as restored by the son of Alexander the Great, — still exists, a small 1 Isaiah xlvi. 1. 2 Nahum hi. 8 44 INTRODUCTION. granite edifice, with the vestiges of the earliest temple round it This is the centre of the vast collection of palaces or temples which, from the little Arab village hard by, is called Karnac. Imagine a long vista of courts, and gateways, and halls — and gateways, and courts, and colonnades, and halls ; here and there an obelisk shooting up out of the ruins, and interrupting the opening view of the forest of columns. Imagine yourself mounted on the top of one of these halls or gateways, and looking over the plain around. This mass of ruins, some rolled down in avalanches of stones, others perfect and painted, as when they were first built, is approached on every side by avenues of gateways, as grand as that on which you are yourself standing. East and west, and north and south, these vast approaches are found, — some are shattered, but in every approach some remain ; and in some can be traced besides, the further avenues, still in part remaining, by hundreds together, avenues of ram-headed sphinxes. Every Egyptian temple has, or ought to have, one of these great gateways formed of two sloping towers, with the high perpendicular front between. But what makes them remarkable at Thebes is their numbers, and their multiplied concentration on the one point of Karnac. This no doubt is the origin of Homer’s expression “ The City of the Hundred Gates;” and in ancient times, even from a dis¬ tance, they must have been beautiful. For, instead of the brown mass of sandstone which they now present, the great sculptures of the gods and conquering kings which they uniformly present were painted within and without ; and in the deep grooves which can still be seen, twofold or fourfold, on each side the portal, with enormous holes for the transverse beams of support, were placed immense red flag-staffs, with Isis-headed standards, red and blue streamers floating from them. Close before almost every gateway in this vast array, were the granite colossal figures usually of the great Rameses, sometimes in white or red marble, of Amenophis and of Thotmes, whose frag¬ ments still remain. And close by these were pairs of towering obelisks (for in Egypt they always stood in pairs), which can gener¬ ally be traced by pedestals on either side, or by the solitary twin, mourning for its brother, either lying broken beside it, or far away in some northern region at Rome, at Paris, or at Petersburg. [ have spoken of the view from the top of the great gateway which overlooks the whole array of avenues. I must speak also of that which from the other end commands the whole series of ruins, each succeeding the other in unbroken succession. It is a view something of the kind of that up the Forum from the Colosseum to the Capitol. You stand in front of a stately gateway, built by the Ptolemies. Immediately in the foreground are two Osiride pillars — their placid faces fixed upon you — a strange and striking contrast to the crash of temple and tower behind. That crash, however, great as it is. EGYPT. 45 has not, like that of the fall of Rome, left more empty spaces where only imagination can supply what once there was. No — there is not an inch of this Egyptian Forum, so to call it, which is not crowded with fragments, if not buildings of the past. No Canina is wanted to figure the scene as it once was. You have only to set up again the fallen obelisks which lie at your feet ; to conceive the columns as they are still seen in parts, overspreading the whole ; to reproduce all the statues, like those which still remain in their august niches ; to gaze on the painted walls and pillars of the immense hall, which even now can never be seen without a thrill of awe, — and you have ancient Thebes before you. And what a series of history it is ! In that long lefile of ruins every age has borne its part, from Osirtasen I. to the latest Ptolemy, from the time of Joseph to the Christian era ; through the whole period of Jewish history, and of the ancient world, the splendour of the earth kept pouring into that space for two thousand years. This is the result of the eastern bank : on the western bank can be nothing more grand, but there is something more wonderful even than Karnak. The western barrier of the Theban plain is a mass of high limestone cliffs, with two deep gorges : one running up behind the plain, and into the very heart of the hills, entirely shut in by them ; the other running up from the plain, so as to be enclosed within the hills, but having its face open to the city. The former is the valley of the Tombs of the Kings, the Westminster Abbey of Thebes; the latter, of the Tcmbs of the Priests and Princes, its Canterbury Cathedral. Ascend, therefore, the first of these two gorges. It is the very ideal of desolation. Bare rocks, without a particle of vegetation, overhanging and enclosing, in a still narrower and narrower embrace, a valley as rocky and bare as themselves, with no human habitation visible, the whole stir of the city wholly excluded ; such is — such always must have been the awful resting-place of the Theban kings. Nothing that has ever been said about them had prepared me for their extraordinary grandeur. You enter a sculptured portal in the face of these wild cliffs, and find yourself in a long and lofty gallery, opening or narrowing, as the case may be, into successivo halls and chambers, all of which are covered with a white stucco, and this white stucco brilliant with colours, fresh as they were thousands of years ago, but on a scale, and with a splendour, that I can only compare to the frescoes of the Vatican Library. Some, of course, are more magnificent than the others ; but of the chief seven all are of this character. They are, in fact, gorgeous palaces ; hewn out of the rock, and painted with all the decorations 40 INTRODUCTION. that could have been seen in palaces. No modern galleries or halls could be more completely ornamented. But splendid as they would be even as palaces, their interest is enhanced tenfold by being what they are. There lie “all the Kings in glory; each one in his own house.” (Isa. xiv. 18.) Every Egyptian poten¬ tate, but especially every Egyptian king, seems to have begun his reign by preparing his sepulchre. It was so in the case of the Pyramids, where each successive layer marked the successive years of the reign. It was so equally in these Theban tombs, where the longer or shorter reign can be traced by the extent of the chambers, or the completeness of their finish. In one or two instances, you pass at once from the most brilliant decorations to rough unhewn rock. The king had died, and the grave closed over his imperfect work. At the entrance of each tomb, he stands making offerings to the Sun, who, with his hawk’s head, wishes him a long life to complete his labours. Two ideas seem to reign through the various sculptures. First, the endeavour to reproduce, as far as possible, the life of man, so that the mummy of the dead King, whether in his long sleep, or on his awakening, might still be encompassed by the old familiar objects. Egypt, with all its peculiarities, was to be perpe¬ tuated in the depths of the grave ; and truly they have succeeded. This is what makes this valley of Tombs like the galleries of a vast Museum. Not the collections of Pompeii at Naples give more knowledge of Greek or Roman life than these do of Egyptian. The kitchen, the dinners, the boating, the dancing, the trades, all are there — all fresh from the hands of the painters of the primeval world. The other idea is that of conducting the King to the world of death. The further you advance into the tomb, the deeper you become involved in endless processions of jackal-headed gods, and monstrous forms of genii, good and evil ; and the Goddess of Justice, with her single ostrich feather; and barges carrying mummies, raised aloft over the sacred lake, and mummies themselves ; and, more fiian all, everlasting convolutions of serpents in every possible form and attitude ; human-legged, human-headed, crowned, entwining mummies — enwreathing or embraced by processions, — extending down whole galleries, so that meeting the head of the serpent at the top of the staircase, you have to descend to its very end before you reach his tail. At last you arrive at the close of all — the vaulted hall, in the centre of which lies the immense granite sarcophagus, which ought to contain the body of the King. Here the processions above, below, and around, reach their highest pitch — meandering round and round — white and black, and red and blue — legs and arms and wings spreading in enormous forms orer the ceiling; and below lies, as I have said, the coffin itself. EGYPT. 47 It seems certain that all this gorgeous decoration was, on the burial of the King, immediately closed, and meant to be closed for ever ; so that what we now see was intended never to be seen by any mortal eyes except those of the King himself when he awoke from his slumbers. Not only was the entrance closed, but in some cases — chiefly in that of the great sepulchre of Osirei — the passages were cut in the most devious directions, the approaches to them so walled up as to give the appearance of a termination long before you arrived at the actual chamber, lest by any chance the body of the King might be disturbed. And yet in spite of all these pre¬ cautions, when these gigantic fortresses have been broken through, in no instance has the mummy been discovered . Amongst the inscriptions of early travellers is one of peculiar interest. It was the u torch-bearer of the Eleusinian mysteries,” who records that he visited these tombs “ many years after the divine Plato” — thanks uto the gods and to the most pious Emperor Constantine who afforded him this favour.” It is written in the vacant space under the figure of a wicked soul returning from the presence of Osiris in the form of a pig, which probably arrested the attention of the Athenian, by reminding him of his own mysteries. Such a confluence of religions— of various religious associations — could hardly be elsewhere found ; a Greek priest-philosopher recording his admiration of the Egyptian worship in the time of Constantine, on the eve of the abolition of both Greek and Egyptian religion by Christianity . It was on the evening of our last day that we climbed the steep side of that grand and mysterious valley, and from the top of the ridge had the last view of the valley itself, as we looked back upon it, and of the glorious plain of Thebes as we looked forward over it. No distant prospect of the ruins can ever do them justice ; but it was a noble point from which to see once more the dim masses of stone rising here and there out of the rich green, and to know that this was Karnac with its gateways, and that Luxor with its long colonnade, and those nearer fragments the Ramaseum and Medinet- Habou ; and further, the wide green depression in the soil, once th funereal lake. Immediately below lay the Valley of Assasif, where in a deep recess under towering crags, like those of Delphi lay the tombs of the priests and princes. The largest of these, in extent the largest of any, is that of Petumenap, Chief Priest in the reign of Pharaoh Neco. Its winding galleries are covered with hieroglyphics, as if hung with tapestry. The only figures which it contains are those which appear again and again in these priestly tombs, the touching effigies of himself and his wife — the best image that can bo carried away of Joseph and Asenath — sitting side by side, their arms 48 INTRODUCTION. affectionately and solemnly entwined round each other’s necks. . . . To have seen the Tombs of Thebes is to have seen the Egyptians as they lived and moved before the eyes of Moses — is to have seen the utmost display of funereal grandeur which has ever possessed the human mind. To have seen the Royal Tombs is more than this — it is to have seen the whole religion of Egypt unfolded as it appeared to the greatest powers of Egypt, at the most solemn moments of their lives. And this can be explored only on the spot. Only a very small portion of the mythological pictures of the Tombs of the Kings has ever been represented in engravings. The mythology of Egypt, even now, strange to say, can be studied only in the caverns of the Valley of the Kings. 9. NILE AT SILSILIS. At Silsilis, the seat of the ancient sandstone quarries — there was a scene which stood alone in the voyage. The two ranges, hero of red sandstone, closed in upon the Kile, like the Drachenfelo and Rolandseck ; fantastic rockery, deep sand-drifts, tombs and temples hewn out of the stone, the cultivated land literally reduced to a few feet or patches of rush or grass. It was curious to reflect, that those patches of green were for the time the whole of the Land of Egypt, — we ourselves, as we swept by in our boat, the whole living population contained within its eastern and western boundaries. It soon opened again, wide plains spreading on each side. 10. NILE AT THE FIRST CATARACT. And now the narrow limits of the sandstone range, which had succeeded to our old friends of limestone, and from which were dug the materials of almost all the temples of Egypt, are exchanged at Assouan — the old Syene — for the granite range; the Syenite granite, from which the Nile issues out of the mountains of Nubia. Eor the first time a serrated mass of hills ran, not as heretofore along the banks, but across the southern horizon itself. The broad stream of the river, too, was broken up, not as heretofore by flat sandbanks, but by fantastic masses of black porphyry and granite, and by high rocky islands, towering high above the shores. Ear and wide these fantastic rocks are strewn, far into the eastern Desert, far up the course of the Nile itself. These are the rocks which make, and are made by, the Cataract. These, too. furnish the quarries from whence came the great colossal statues of Rameses, and all the obelisks. From this wild and distant region sprang all those familiar forms which we know so EGYPT. 49 well in the squares of Rome. In the quarries which are still visible in the white sands and black crags immediately east of Assouan, one obelisk still remains, hewn out. but never removed from its original birthplace ; the latest, as that of Heliopolis is the earliest born of the race. And not only are these rocks the quarries of the statues, but it is hardly possible to look at their forms and not believe that they suggested the idea. Islands, quarries, crags along the river-side, all seem either like grotesque colossal figures, sitting with their grim features carved out against the sky, their vast limbs often smoothed by the inundations of successive ages ; or else like the same statues broken to shivers, like that we saw at Thebes. One can quite imagine how, in the days when power was will and will was power, Rameses, returning from his Ethiopian conquests, should s^y, “ Here is the stone, hard and glittering, from which my statue shall be hewn, and here is the model after which it shall be fashioned.” This is the utmost limit of the journey of Herodotus. He had been told a strange story, which he says he could not believe, by the Treasurer at Sais, that at this point of the river there wTere two mountains running up into sharp peaks, and called Grophi and Mophi, between which were the sources of the Nile, from which it ran down northwards, on one side, into Egypt, and southwards, on the other, into Ethiopia. He came, he says, to verify it, and observes (doubtless with truth), that by those deep, unfathomable sources which they described, they meant the violent eddies of the Cataracts. To an inhabitant of Lower Egypt, the sight or the report of such a convulsion as the rapids make in the face of their calm and majestic river must have seemed like the very beginning of his existence, the struggling into life of what afterwards became so mild and beneficial. And if they heard that there was a river Nile further south, it was then natural for them to think that this could not be the same as their own. The granite range of Syene was to them their Alps — the water-shed of their world. If there was a stream on the other side, doubtless it flowed far away into the Ocean of the South. And these fantastic peaks, not two inly, but hundreds, were simplified by them into Crophi and Mcplii — the names exactly suit the wild mysterious character of the whole scenery which they represent. And now it is immediately above the roar of these rapids — but still in the very centre of these colossal rockeries — that you emerge into sight of an island lying in the windings of the river — fringed with palms, and crowned with a long line of temples and colonnades. This is Philae. 50 INTRODUCTION. 11. PHILiE. The name expresses its situation — it is said to he “ Pilek,” u the frontier” between Egypt and Ethiopia, and the name seems to have been applied to all the larger islands in this little archipelago. One of these (Biggeh) immediately overhangs Philse, and is the mos remarkable of all the multitude for its fantastic shapes. High from its black top, you overlook what seems an endless crater of these porphyry and granite blocks, many of them carved with ancient figures and hieroglyphics ; in * the silver lake which they enclose lies Phihoe, the only flat island amongst them. Its situation is more curious than beautiful, and the same is true of its temples. As seen from the river or the rocks, their brown sandstone colour, their dead walls hardly emerge sufficiently from the sand and mud cottages which enclose them round, and the palms are not sufficiently numerous to relieve the bare and mean appearance which the rest of the island presents. As seen from within, how¬ ever, the glimpses of the river, the rocky knolls, and the feathery tresses of the palm, through the vista, the massive walls and colonnades irregular and perverse in all their proportions, but still grand from their size, are in the highest degree peculiar. Foreground — distance — Art and nature are here quite unique ; the rocks and river (of which you might see the like elsewhere) are wholly unlike Egypt, as the square towers, the devious perspective, and the sculptured walls, are wholly unlike anything else except Egypt. The whole temple is so modern, that it no way illustrates, except so far as it copies them, the feelings of the religion of the old Egyptians. The earliest, and the only Egyptian, name that occurs upon it, is Nectanebo, an Egyptian prince, who revolted against the later Persian kings. All the rest are the Grecian Ptolemies, and of these the chief Ptolemy Physcon, or the Fat, so called because he became so bloated by his luxurious living that he measured six feet round, and who proposed, but in vain, to Cornelia, mother of the Gracchi. But in this very fact of its modern origin there is a peculiar interest. It is the fullest specimen of the restoration of the old Egyptian worship by the Ptolemies, and of an attempt, like ours, in Gothic architecture, to revive a style and forms which had belonged to ages far away. The Ptolemies here, as in many other places, were trying “to throw themselves” into Egyptian worship, following in the steps of Alexander “ the son of Ammon.” In many ways this appears. First, there is much for show without real use — one great side chapel, perhaps the finest of the group, built for the sake of its terrace towards the river — the main entrance to the Temple being in fact no entrance at all. Then there is the want of sympathy which always more or less distinguishes the EGYPT. 51 Egyptian architecture, but is here carried to a ridiculous excess. No perspective is carried consistently through : the sides of the same courts are of different styles : no one gateway is in the same line with another. Lastly there is the curious sight of sculptures, contemporary with the finest works of Greek Art, and carved under Grecian kings, as rude and coarse as those under the earliest Pharaohs, to be “ in keeping’ ’ with Egyptian architecture, and to “ preserve the ancient type,57 like the mediaeval figures in painted windows and the illegible inscriptions round the arches of some modern English churches. And not only are the forms but the subjects imitated, long after all meaning had passed away, and this not only in the religious figures of Isis and the gods. There is something ludicrously grotesque in colossal bas-reliefs of kings seizing innumerable captives by the hair of their head, as in the ancient sculptures of Bameses — kings who reigned at a time when all conquests had ceased, and wrho had, perhaps, never stirred out of the palaces and libraries of Alexandria. The mythological interest of the Temple is its connection with [sis, who is its chief divinity, and accordingly the sculptures of her, of Osiris, and of Ilorus, are countless. The most remarkable, though in a very obscure room, and on a very small scale, is the one repre¬ senting the death of Osiris, and then his embalmment, burial, gradual restoration, and enthronement as judge of the dead. But this legend belongs, like the rest of the Temple, to the later, not the ancient stage of Egyptian belief. 12. NILE IN NUBIA. We are still on the Nile, but it is no longer the Nile of Egypt. The two ranges are wild granite and sandstone hills, which enclose the river so completely, and render the banks so high and steep, that there is no general cultivation. The waters rise to a certain height up the terraced shore, and accordingly here, as to a certain extent in Upper Egypt, you see the springing corn and vegetation to the very edge of the stream. But beyond that the water can only be raised by water-wheels worked by oxen, which accordingly are here ten times as numerous as in Egypt, working by night and day, and — as all the grease in the country is used in plastering the long hair of the unturbaned heads of the Nubians — creaking by night and day, and all along the river, with a sound which in the distance is like the hum of a mosquito. How much that hum tells you of the state of the country if you inquire into all its causes ! The high banks which prevent the Hoods, the tropical heats which call for the labour of oxen instead of men, the constant need of water, and the wild costume of the people. 52 INTRODUCTION. Another feature of the country is, that you feel you are now beyond the reach of history. This is Ethiopia, and frcm this possibly the Egyptian race may have sprung; and there is no doubt that the great Pharaohs, and afterwards the Caesars, pushed their conquests over it far south. But it was, after all, a pro¬ vince without any national existence of its own, and accordingly of all the towns and temples we shall pass there is not one of the slightest historical interest — not the villages in the wilds of Australia and America can be less known or less important than these. Their sole interest is, that they assist you in filling up the broken outlines and vacant spaces of Thebes and Memphis; and the very fact of their remoteness from the course of history conduces to this result, because this remoteness has preserved them, whilst the monu¬ ments of the better frequented country below the Cataract have perished. Already we have passed as many temples in one day, as we passed (with the exception of Thebes) during the whole of the rest of our Egyptian voyage. There they stand, broken and of various ages, but massive and striking on the river-side, taking the place of the tombs of Egypt, and of the castles on the Rhine and Danube . Further on we see clusters of deep purple hills rising, not in con¬ tinuous chains, but east, and west, and north, and south ; purple, not with the amethyst of the Apennines, but with a black porphyry hue, that contrasts strangely with the bright green strip which lies at their feet, or else with the drifts of sand, sometimes the gray dust of the Nile alluvium, oftener the yellow sand of the Desert, which now appears far oftener than in Egypt. You feel here the force of that peculiar attribute of the Nile — his having no tributaries. After having advanced 800 miles up his course, you naturally expect, as in the Rhine, that when you have tracked him up into his mountain-bed, and are approaching, how¬ ever indefinitely, to his veiled sources, you will find the vast volume of waters shrink. But no — the breadth and strength below was all his own ; and throughout that long descent he has not a drop of water but what he brought himself, and therefore you have the strange sight of a majestic river flowing like an arm of the sea in the Highlands, as calm and as broad amongst these wild Nubian hills as in the plain of Egypt. 18. IPSAMBUL (or ABOU-SIMBIL). Why tUe great Temple of Ipsambul should have been fixed at this spot, it is hard to say. Perhaps because, after this point, begins ‘die more strictly Desert-part of Nubia, known by the name of the u Belly of Stone;” and thus, for a long way further south, on the EGYPT. 53 western bank (to which all the Nubian temples, but two, are con¬ fined), there are no masses of rock out of which such a monument could be hewn. The great temple is in the bowels of a hill, obliquely facing eastwards, and separated from the smaller Temple, which immediately overhangs the river, by the avalanche of sand which, for centuries, had entirely buried the entrance, and now chokes up its greater part. There are two points which give it an essential and special interest. First, you here get the most distinct conception of the great Rameses. Sculptures of his life you can see elsewhere. But here alone, as you sit on the deep pure sand, you can look at his fea¬ tures inch by inch, see them not only magnified to tenfold their original size, so that ear and mouth, and nose, and every link of his collar, and every line of his skin, sinks into you with the weight of a mountain ; but these features are repeated exactly the same, three times over — four times they once were, but the upper part of the fourth statue is gone. Kehama is the image which most nearly answers to these colossal kings : and this multiplication of himself — not one Rameses but four — is exactly Kehama entering the eight gates of Padalon by eight roads at once. Look at them, as they emerge, — the two northern figures, from the sand which reaches up to their throats — the southernmost, as he sits unbroken, and revealed from the top of his royal helmet to the toe of his enormous foot. Look at them, and remember that the face which looks out from the top of that gigantic statue is the face of the greatest man of the Old World that preceded the birth of Greece and Rome — the first conqueror recorded in history — the glory of Egypt — the terror of Africa and Asia — whose monuments still remain in Syria and in Asia Minor — the second founder of Thebes, which must have been to the world then, as Rome was in the days of its Empire. It is certainly an individual likeness. Three peculiarities I carry away with me, besides that of profound repose and tran¬ quillity, united, perhaps, with something of scorn — first, the length of the face, compared with that of most others that one sees in the sculptures ; secondly, the curl of the tip of the nose ; thirdly, the overlapping and fall of the under lip. One of the two southern colossal figures, I said, was shattered from the legs upwards ; but the legs are happily preserved, and on them, as on the Amenophis at Thebes, are the scrawls, not of modern travellers — nor even as at Thebes, of Roman pilgrims — but of the very earliest Greek adventurers who penetrated into Africa. Some of them are still visible. The most curious, how¬ ever, has been again buried in the accumulation of sand. It is the oldest Greek inscription in the world, — by a Greek soldier who came here to pursue some deserters in the last days of the Egyptian monarchy. 54 INTRODUCTION. And now let us pass to the second great interest of Ipsambul, which is this. Every other great Egyptian temple is more or less in ruins. This, from being hewn out of the rock, is in all its arrangements as perfect now as it was when it was left unfinished by Rameses himself. You can explore every chamber from end to end, and you know that you have seen them all. The fact of its being a cave, and not a building, may of course have modified the forms. But the general plan must have been the same, and the massive shapes, the low roofs, the vast surface of dead wall, must have been suggested in the temples of Lower Egypt, where these features were not necessary, by those in Ethiopia where they were. The temple is dedicated to Ra or the Sun. This is represented in a large bas-relief over the great entrance between the colossal figures. There is Rameses presenting offerings to the Sun, whom you recognise at once here and elsewhere by his hawk’s head. This in itself gives the wdiole place a double interest. Not only was the Sun the especial deity of the Pharaohs, which means <£ Children of the Sun,” but he was the god of Heliopolis, and such as we see him here,— and such in great measure as his worship was here, such was he and his worship in the great Temple of Heliopolis, now destroyed, — from which came the obelisks of Europe, — of which Joseph’s father-in-law was High Priest, and where Moses must most frequently have seen the Egyptian ceremonies. Now climb up that ridge of sand, stoop under the lintel of the once gigantic- doorway, between which and the sand there is left only an aperture of a few feet, and dive into the dark abyss of the Temple itself. Dark it must always have been, though not so dark as now. All the light that it had came through that one door. First, there is the large hall, with four pillars ranged on each side, colossal figures of Osiris ; each figure with the feet swathed, the hands crossed on the breast, the crook and knotted scourge — his universal emblems — clasped in them ; the face absolutely passionless ; broad, placid, and serene as the full Nile ; the highest ideal of repose, both as the likeness of Death in the mummy, and as the representa¬ tive of the final Judgment. From this hall, richly sculptured round with the Homeric glories of Rameses, we pass into another filled with sculptures of gods. We have left the haunts of man and are advancing into the presence of the Divinities. Another corridor, and the Temple narrows yet again, and we are in the innermost sanctuary . In that square rocky chamber, to which we are thus brought by the arms of the mountain closing us in with a closer and ever closer embrace, stood, and still stands, though broken, the original altar. Behind the altar, seated against the rocky wall, their hands upon their knees, looking straight out EGYPT. 55 through the door of the sanctuary, through the corridor, through the second hall, and through the first, to the small aperture of day¬ light and blue sky, as it is now, — to the majestic portal as it was in ancient times, — sate, and still sit, the four great gods of the Temple. There they sate and looked out ; and as you stand far back in the Temple, and light up the Adytum by kindling fires once more on that forgotten altar, you can see them still. There is the Hawkhead of the Sun. Next to him, Raineses himself; next, Ammon, the Jupiter of Egypt — the great god of Thebes — you see his tall cap, or tiara, towering high above the head of all the others in strong relief against the wall; — and in the remaining corner Kneph with the ram’s head, the Spirit of the Universe. As the whole Temple has contracted in pro¬ portion to its receding inwards, so also have the statues in size. The sculptures of the Adytum, on each side, represent the processions of the Sacred Boat, floating to its extremity. There is no trace of habitation for the sacred Hawk, who if he wero in the Temnle must have been here, sitting at the feet of Ra. So at least it follows from Strabo’s clear account, that in the Adytum of every Egyptian temple the Sacred animal was kept, whatever it might be, corresponding to the statue of the Greek and Roman Sanctuary, — to the no-statue of the Holy of Holies in the Jewish temple. The chief thought that strikes one at Ipsambul, and elsewhere, is the rapidity of transition in the Egyptian worship, from the sublime to the ridiculous. The gods alternate between the majesty of ante- Diluvian angels, and the grotesqueness of pre- Adamite monsters. By what strange contradiction could the same sculptors and worshippers have conceived the grave and awful forms of Ammon and Osiris, and the ludicrous images of gods in all shapes, ‘ 1 in the heavens, and in the earth, and in the waters under the earth,” with heads of hawk and crocodile, and jackal and ape? What must have been the mind and muscles of a nation who could worship, as at Thebes, in the assemblage of hundreds of colossal Pashts (the Sacred Cats) ? And, again, how extraordinary the contrast of the serenity and the savageness of the kings ! Raineses, with the placid smile, grasping the shrieking captives by the hair, as the frontispiece of every temple ; and Ammon, with the smile no less placid, giving him the falchion to smite them. The whole impression is that gods and men alike belong to an age and world entirely passed away, when men were slow to move, slow to think, but when they did move or think, their work was done with the force and violence of Giants. One emblem there is of true Monotheism, — everywhere a thousand times repeated, — always impressive, and always beautiful, — chiefly on the roof and cornice, like the Cherubim in the Holy of Holies,— 56 INTRODUCTION. the globe, with its wide-spread wings of azure blue, of the alb embracing sky: “Under the shadow of thy wings shall be my refuge.’’ 14. THE NILE BEFORE THE SECOND CATARACT. The great peculiarity of this last stage of Nubia is, that whereas in Egypt the Nile flowed through the limestone ranges, in Lower Nubia through its wild mountain-passes, so here, in Upper Nubia, it flows through an absolute Desert. From this high sandstone rock of Abou-Sir, that last monument of English travellers, you look over a wide expanse of sand, broken only by the sight of the turbid river which dashes below through innumerable islets of what look exactly like black, bristling coal. This wide expanse ends, or ended, on the day when I saw it, in clouds of sand, such as overwhelmed the host of Cambyses, and which rose high in the heavens, like a thick November fog, the sun glaring with sickly orb above, and his rays streaming through the mist below, like the rain of northern regions. Sand is, as I have said before, the snow of these southern regions ; it is also its water, for rightly did the prophet enjoin his followers to use its fine and pure streams for their ablutions when water failed ; it is also, as I saw on this day, its mist, its rain, its fog. In the dim distance rose the two isolated mountains on the southern horizon, which mark the way to Dongola. The Second Cataract is, geographically speaking and historically, of but little significance in the Valley of the Nile : it stops the navigation, that is all : the Desert has begun before, and continues afterwards. One feature of the Nile I must here add to what I have already said. Every one knows that the only mode of communication is the river; but the voyage up the Nile requires and possesses the consent of another power besides that of the stream ; namely the wind. It is a remarkable provision that the north wind which blows for nine months in the year, and especially during the floods when the stream is strongest, acts as a corrective to enable navigation iqnvards when else it would be impossible. Hence the plausibility of that con¬ jecture mentioned by Herodotus about the “ yearly winds.” So fixed, so regular a part of the economy of the river do they form, that it was natural to imagine that they actually prevented the waters of the river from entering the sea. And thus when we look at the boats with their white sails scudding before the breeze along the broad stream, we see how Egypt and Ethiopia might be fitly called “ a land shadowing with wings.”1 1 Isa xviii. 1. (Ewald.) EGYPT. 57 15. DENDERA.1 Dendera is the only perfect temple left besides those in Nubia — that is, the only one perfect, not as an excavation from the rock, but as a building. But its interest is like Philac, not from its antiquity, but its novelty. Its oldest portion was built by Cleopatra ; its finest part by Tiberias. Here, as at Ilermonthis, is yet to be seen that famous form and face. She is here sculptured in colossal propor¬ tions, so that the fat full features are well brought out, and, being like those of Hermonthis, give the impression that it must be a like¬ ness. Immediately before her stands, equally colossal and with the royal crown of Egypt, her son, by Cgesar. These must be the latest sculptures of the independent sovereigns of Egypt. The interior is filled with the usual ovals for the names of kings — now blank — for before Cleopatra had time to fill them Actium was fought, and Egypt had passed into the hands of Rome, and accordingly the splendid portico is the work of Tiberius. It is in these great porticoes that you trace the real spirit of Roman architecture in Egypt. The interior of the Temple, though very large, is but a tedious and commonplace copy of the most formal plan of an old temple ; but the portico has something of its own, which is only seen here and in the corresponding portico of Esneh, and of which the whole effect, though on a gigantic scale and with curious capitals of human faces, is like that of the colonnade in front of the Pantheon. 16. MEMPHIS. Memphis was the second capital of Egypt — sometimes the first — and there the Pharaohs lived at the time of the Exodus ; and there, if its monuments had remained, might have been found the traces of the Israelites, which we seek in vain elsewhere. Histori¬ cally and religiously it ought to be as interesting as Thebes. Yet Thebes still remains quite unrivalled. There was never anything at Memphis like that glorious circle of hills — there is now nothing like those glorious ruins. Still it is a striking place. [maginc a wide green plain, greener than anything else I have seen in Egypt,. A vast succession of palm-groves, almost like the Ravenna pine- forest in extent, runs along the river-side, springing in many spots from green turf. Behind these palm-forests — -behind the plain — rises the white back of the African range ; and behind that again, “even as the hills stand round about Jerusalem, 5 J so stand the 1 These three last letters are, for convenience of their contents, arranged not id ordor of place, but of time. 58 INTRODUCTION. Pyramids round about Memphis. These are to Memphis as the Royal tombs to Thebes, that is, the sepulchres of the Kings of Lower, as those of Upper, Egypt. And such as the view now is, such it must have been as far back as history extends. They are not actually as old as the hills, but they are the oldest monuments of Egypt and of the world, and such as we see them in that distant outline, each croup rising at successive intervals — Dashur, Sakara, Abou-Sir and Ghizeh — such they seemed to Moses, to Joseph, perhaps to Abraham. They are the sepulchres of the kings, and in the sand¬ hills at their feet are the sepulchres of the ordinary inhabitants of Memphis. For miles you walk through layers of bones and skulls and mummy swathings, extending from the sand, or deep down in shaft¬ like mummy-pits ; and amongst these mummy-pits are vast galleries filled with mummies of Ibises, in red jars, once filled, but now gradually despoiled. And lastly— only discovered recently — are long galleries hewn in the rock, and opening from time to time — - say every fifty yards — into high arched vaults, under each of which reposes the most magnificent black marble sarcophagus that can be conceived — a chamber rather than a coffin — smooth and sculptured within and without; grander by far than even the granite sarco¬ phagi of the Theban kings— how much grander than any human sepulchres anywhere else. And all for the successive corpses of the bull Apis ! These galleries formed part of the great temple of Serapis, in which the Apis mummies were deposited ; and here they lay, not in royal, but in divine state. The walls of the entrances are covered with ex-votos. In one porch there is a painting at full length, black and white, of the Bull himself as he was in life. One other trace remains of the old Memphis. It had its own great temple, as magnificent as that of Ammon at Karnac, dedicated to the Egyptian Vulcan, Pthah. Of this not a vestige remains. But Herodotus describes that Sesostris, that is Rameses, built a colossal statue of himself in front of the great gateway. And there accordingly — as it is usually seen by travellers, is the last me¬ morial of that wonderful King, which they bear away in their recollections of Egypt. Deep in the forest palms, before de¬ scribed, in a little pool of water left by the inundations, which year by year always cover the spot, lies a gigantic trunk, its back upwards. The name of Rameses is on the belt. The face lies downwards, but is visible in profile and quite perfect, and the very same as at Ipsambul, with the only exception that the features are more feminine and more beautiful, and the peculiar hang of the lip is not there . EGYPT. 59 17. THE PYRAMIDS. The approach to the Pyramids is first a rich green plain, and then the Desert — that is, they are just at the beginning of the Desert, on a ridge, which of itself gives them a lift above tho Valley of the Nile. It is impossible not to feel a thrill as one finds oneself draw¬ ing nsarer to the greatest and the most ancient monuments in the world, to see them coming out stone by stone into view, and the dark head of the Sphinx peering over the lower sandhills. Yet the usual accounts are correct which represent this nearer sight as not im¬ pressive — their size diminishes, and the clearness with which you see their several stones strips them of their awful or mysterious character. It is not till you are close under the great Pyramid, and look up at the huge blocks rising above you into the sky, that the consciousness is forced upon you that this is the nearest approach to a mountain that the art of man has produced. The view from the top has the same vivid contrast of Life and Death which makes all wide views in Egypt striking — the Desert and the green plain ; only here, the view over the Desert — the African Desert — being much more extensive than elsewhere, one gathers in better the notion of the wide heaving ocean of sandy billows which hovers on the edge of the Valley of the Nile. The whole line of the minarets of Cairo is also a peculiar feature — peculiar, because it is strange to see a modern Egyptian city which is a grace instead of a deformity to the view. You also see the strip of Desert running into the green plain on the east of the Nile, which marks Heliopolis and Goshen . The strangest feature in the view is the platform on which the Pyramids stand. It completely dispels the involuntary notion that one has formed of the solitary abruptness of the Three Pyra¬ mids. Not to speak of the groups, in the distance, of Abou-Sir, Sakara, and Dashur — the whole platform of this greatest of them all, is a maze of Pyramids and tombs. Three little ones stand beside the first, three also beside the third. The second and third are each surrounded by traces of square enclosures, and their eastern faces are approaches through enormous masses of ruins as if of some great temple; whilst the first is enclosed on three sides by long rows of massive tombs, on which you look down from the top as on the plats of a stone-garden. You see in short that it is the most sacred and frequented part of that vast cemetery which extends all along the Western ridge for twenty miles behind Memphis. It is only by going round the whole place in detail that the con¬ trast between its present and its ancient state is disclosed. Ono is 60 INTRODUCTION. inclined to imagine that the Pyramids are immutable, and that such as you see them now such they were always. Of distant views this is true, but taking them near at hand it is more easy from the existing ruins to conceive Karnac as it was, than it is to conceive the Pyra¬ midal platform as it was. The smooth casing of part of the top of the Second Pyramid, and the magnificent granite blocks which form the lower stages of the third, serve to show what they must have been all, from top to bottom; the first and second, brilliant white or yellow limestone, smooth from top to bottom, instead of those rude disjointed masses which their stripped sides now present ; the third, all glowing with the red granite from the First Cataract. As it is, they have the barbarous look of Stonehenge ; but then they must have shone with the polish of an age already rich with civilisation, and that the more remarkable when it is remembered that these granite blocks which furnished the outside of the third and inside of the first, must have come all the way from the First Cataract. It also seems from Herodotus and others, that these smooth out¬ sides were covered with sculptures. Then you must build up or uncover the massive tombs, now broken or choked with sand, so as to restore the aspect of vast streets of tombs, like those on the Appian Way, out of which the Great Pyramid would rise like a cathedral above smaller churches. Lastly, you must enclose the two other Pyramids with stone precincts and gigantic gateways, and above all you must restore the Sphinx, as he (for it must never be forgotten that a female Sphinx was almost unknown) was in the days of his glory. Even now, after all that we have seen of colossal statues, there was something stupendous in the sight of that enormous head— its vast projecting wig, its great ears, its open eyes, the red colour still visible on its cheek, the immense projection of the whole lower part of its face. Yet what must it have been when on its head there was the royal helmet of Egypt ; on its chin the royal beard ; when the stone pavement by which men approached the Pyramids ran up between its paws ; when immediately under its breast an altar stood from which the smoke went up into the gigantic nostrils of that nose, now vanished from the face, never to be conceived again. All this is known with certainty from the remains which actually exist deep under the sand on which . you stand, as you look up from a distance into the broken but still expressive features. And for what purpose was this Sphinx of Sphinxes called into being — as much greater than all other Sphinxes as the Pyramids are greater than all other temples or tombs ? If, as is likely, he lay couched at the entrance, now deep in sand, of the vast approach to the second, that is, the Central Pyramid, so as to form an essential part of this immense group ; still more, if, as seems possible, thero EGYPT. 61 was once intended to be (according to the usual arrangements which never left a solitary Sphinx any more than a solitary obelisk) a brother Sphinx on the Northern side, as this on the Southern side of the approach, its situation and significance was worthy of its grandeur. And if, further, the Sphinx was the giant representative of Royalty, then it fitly guards the greatest of Royal sepulchres ; and, with its half human, half animal form, is the best welcome and ths best farewell to the history and religion of Egypt. CHAPTER 1. PART I. — PENINSULA OF SINAI. PART II.— THE JOURNEY FROM CAIRO TO JERUSALEM. Exodus xiv. 13. “ The Egyptians whom ye have seen to-day, ye shall see them again no more for ever.” Lout. viii. 15. “ That great and terrible wilderness .... where there was no water.” Deut. xxxiii. 2. “ The Lord came from Sinai and rose up from Seir unto them : He shined forth from Mount Paran ; and he came with the ten thousands [‘of Kadesh.’ lxx.]’- PART I. PENINSULA OP SINAI. E General configuration of the Peninsula. 1. The Two Gulfs. 2. The Plateau of the Till. 3. The Sandy Tract. 4. The Mountains of the Tor. (a.) The K&’a — the Shores, (b.) The Passes, (c.) The Mountains ; the Three Groups — the Colours — the Confusion — the Desolation — the Silence, (d.) The Wadys — the Vegetation — the Springs — the Oases. II. General Adaptation to the History. The Scenery — the Physical Phenomena — the Present Inhabitants — Changes. III. Traditions of the History. 1. Arab Traditions — of Moses. 2. Greek Traditions. 3. Early Traditions. IY. Route of the Israelites. 1. Passage of the Red Sea. 2. Marah and Elim. 3. En¬ campment by the Red Sea. 4. Wilderness of Sin. 5. Choice between Scrbal and Gebel Mousa as Sinai G. Special localities of the History. Y. Later History of the Peninsula. 1. Elijah’s Visit. 2. Josephus. 3. St. Paul. 4. Hermitages, and Convent of St. Catherine. 5. Mahomet. 6. Present State of the Convent. 7. Tomb of Slieykh Saleh. Note. Sinaitic Inscriptions. S I N A X PART I. PENINSULA OF SINAI. The Peninsula of Mount Sinai is, geographically and geologically speaking, one of the most remarkable districts on the face of the earth. It combines the three grand features of earthly scenery — the sea, the desert, and the mountains. It occupies also a position central to three countries, distinguished, not merely for their history, but for their geography, amongst all other nations of the world — Egypt, Arabia, Palestine. And lastly, it has been the scene of a history, as unique as its situation ; by which the fate of the three nations which surround it, and through them the fate of the whole world, has been determined. It is a just remark of Chevalier Bunsen, that “ Egypt has, properly speaking, no history. History was born on that night when Moses led forth his people from Goshen.” Most fully is this felt as the traveller emerges from the Valley of the Nile, the study of the Egyptian monuments, and finds himself on the broad track of the Desert. In those monuments, magnificent and instructive as they are, he sees great kings, and mighty deeds — the father, the son, and the children, — the sacrifices, the conquests, the coronations. But there is no before and after, no unrolling of a great drama, no beginning, middle, and end of a moral progress, or even of a mournful decline. 66 SINAI AND PALESTINE. In the desert, on the contrary, the moment the green fields of Egypt recede from our view, still more when we reach the Red Sea, the further and further we advance into the Desert and the mountains, we feel that every¬ thing henceforward is continuous, that there is a sustained, and protracted interest, increasing more and more, till it reaches its highest point in Palestine, in Jerusalem, on Calvary, and on Olivet. And in the Desert of Sinai this interest is enhanced by the fact that there it stands alone. Over all the other great scenes of human history, — Palestine itself, Egypt, Greece and Italy, — successive tides of great recollections have rolled, each to a certain extent obliterating the traces of the former. Rut in the Peninsula of Sinai there is nothing to interfere with the effect of that single event. The Exodus is the one only stream of history that has passed through this wonderful region, — a history, which has for its background the whole magnificence of Egypt, and for its distant horizon, the forms, as yet unborn, of Judaism, of Mahometanism, of Christianity. It is this district, wThich, for the sake of, and in con¬ nection with that history, it is here proposed briefly to describe. General con- I- The great limestone range of Syria, which be- TheratM°oan- gins in the north from Lebanon and extends through scrtfand the' the whole of Palestine, terminates on the south in Sea- a wide table-land, which reaches eastward far into Arabia Petr sea, and westward far into Africa. At the point where this rocky mass descends from Palestine, another element falls in, which at once gives it a character distinct from mountainous tracts in other parts of the world : namely, that waterless region of the earth, which extends from the shores of the Atlantic to those of the Persian Gulf, under the familiar name of the Desert. But its char¬ acter, both as a wilderness and as a mountain country, is broken by three great clefts, which divide its several por¬ tions from each other. The westernmost of these clefts is the deep valley, which descending from the mountains of Abyssinia contains the course of the solitary, mysterious, and majestic river, with the green strip of verdure lining PENINSULA OF SINAI 'ayun /was^l WATER PAP 1 KHAN NUHliL /V7/J RDAN 7VKABAH HUM MAM' EAR ON JMEfi REFERENCE TO NAMES A COLOURS A .WADY At U KATIE B B. WADY FEJRAN CWADYESH SHEJKH D. WADY H IB RAN EJEBEL HATH ERIN EJEBEL MUSA 6. CON YEN! OF SIN A / H. UM SHAUMER /. UM KHESYN J. WADY KID K. WADYSEYAL L. WADY SUM CHY M. WADY HUDERA N. WADY EL AIN O. SURABITEL KHADIM INVENT ANTHbW- \VEGETATION ]i LIMESTONE \SAA1DS7UNE \GRAN1TE Iras mohammed PENINSULA OF SINAI. 67 its banks, which forms the land of Egypt. The second runs almost parallel to this — the bed not of a fertilizing stream, but of a desolate sea, — the Arabian Gulf of the Greeks, the Gulf of Suez in modern geography. The third and easternmost cleft at its southern extremity is similar in character to the second, and forms the Elanitic Gulf of the Greeks, the modern Gulf of ’Akaba ; but further north it passes into the deep and wide valley of the ’Arabah, which in turn communicates with the still deeper valley of the Jordan, running up into the heart of the mountains of Lebanon, the original basis from which the whole of the system takes its departure. It is between those two Gulfs, the Gulf of Suez, _ ' “t T\rn and the Gulf of ’Akaba, that the Peninsula of Sinai of the lies. From them it derives its contact with the sea, and therefore with the world ; which is one striking dis¬ tinction between it and the rest of the vast desert of which it forms a part. From hardly any point in the Sinaitic range is the view of the sea wholly excluded ; from the highest points both of its branches are visible; its waters, blue with a depth of color more like that of some of the Swiss lakes than of our northern or midland seas, its tides imparting a life to the dead Landscape, — familiar to modern travellers from the shores of the Atlantic or German Ocean ; but strange and inexplicable to the in¬ habitants of the ancient world, whose only knowledge of the sea was the vast tideless lake which washed the coasts of Egypt, Palestine, Greece, and Italy. It must have always brought to the mind of those who stood on its shores, that they were on the waters of a new, and almost unknown, world. Those tides come rolling in from the vast Indian Ocean ; and with the Indian Ocean these two gulfs are the chief channels of communication from the Northern world. The white shells which strew their shores, the forests of subma¬ rine vegetation which gave the whole sea its Hebrew appellation of the u Sea of Weeds,” the trees of coral, whose huge trunks may be seen even on the dry shore, with the red rocks and red sand, which especially in the Gulf of ’Akaba bound its sides, — all bring before us the 68 SINAI AND PALESTINE. mightier mass of the Red or Erythraean1 Ocean, the coral strands of the Indian Archipelago, of which these two gulfs with their peculiar products are the northern off¬ shoots. The Peninsula itself has been the scene of but one cycle of human events. But it has, through its two watery boundaries, been encircled with two tides of history, which must not be forgotten in the associations which give it a foremost place in the geography and his tory of the world ; two tides, never flowing together, one falling as the other rose, but imparting to each of the two barren valleys through which they flow a life and activity hardly less than that which has so long animated the valley of the Nile. The two great lines of Indian traffic have alternately passed up the eastern and the western gulf; and, though unconnected with the greater events of the Peninsula of Sinai, the commerce of Alexandria and the communications of England with India, which now pass down the Gulf of Suez, are not without interest, as giving a lively image of the ancient importance of the twin Gulf of ’Akaba. That gulf, now wholly deserted, was, in the times of the Jewish monarchy, the great thoroughfare of the fleets of Solomon and Jehoshaphat, 1 The appelation “ Red Sea,” as ap¬ plied distinctly to the two gulfs of Suez, and ’Akaba, is comparatively modem. It seems to have been applied to them only as continuations of the Indian Ocean, to which the name of the Erythraean or Red Sea was given, at a time when the two gulfs were known to the Hebrews only by the name of the “Sea of "Weeds,” and to the Creeks by the name of the Bays of Arabia and Elath. This in itself makes it probable that the namo of “ Red ” was derived from the corals of the Indian Ocean, and makes it impossible that it should have been from “ Edom” — the mountains of Edom, as is well known, hardly reaching to the shores of the gulf of ’Akaba, certainly not to the shores of the ocean. “ As we emerged from the mouth of a small defile,” writes the late Captain New- bold, in describing his visit to the mountain of Nakus near Tor, “ the waters of this sacred gulf burst upon our view ; the surface marked with annular, crescent-shaped, and irregular blotches of a purplish red, extending as far as the eye could reach. They were curiously contrasted with the beautiful aqua-marina of the water lying over the white coral reefs. This red color I ascertained to be caused by the sub¬ jacent red sandstone and reddish coral reefs; a similar phenomenon is observed in the straits of Babel-Mandeb, and also near Suez, particularly when the rays of the sun fall on the water at a small angle.” — Journ. of R. Asiat. Society, No. xiii., p. *78. This accurate descrip¬ tion is decisive as to the origin of the name, though Captain Newbold draws no such inference. The Hebrew word “ sfiph,” though used commonly for “ flags ” or “ rushes,” would by an easy change be applied to any aqueous vege¬ tation (see Dietrich’s Abhandlungen, pp. 17, 23-25); just as Pliny (xiii. 25) speaks of it as “ a vast forest “ Ru- brum mare et lotus orientis oceanus refertus est sylvis .” (Ritter, Sinai, 46G — 482.) See Part II., p. 149. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 69 and the only point in the second period of their history which brought the Israelites into connection with the scenes of the earliest wanderings of their nation. Such are the western and eastern boundaries of this mountain tract; striking to the eye of the geographer, as the two parallels to that narrow Egyptian land from which the Israelites came forth ; important to the his torian, as the two links of Europe and Asia with the great ocean of the south — as the two points of contact between the Jewish people and the civilization of the ancient world. From the summit of Mount St. Catherine, or of Um-Shumer, a wandering ‘Israelite might have seen the beginning and the end of his nation’s greatness. On the one side lay the sea through which they had escaped from the bondage of slavery and idolatry — still a mere tribe of the shepherds of the Desert. On the other side lay the sea, up which were afterwards conveyed the treasures of the Indies, to adorn the palace and the temple of the capital of a mighty empire. Of the three geological elements which compose 2 Th the Peninsula itself,1 the first and the most exten- T'lateau on y # # the Tih. sive is the northern table-land of limestone which is known as the Desert of the 66 Tih,” or the u Wanderings.’ It is supported and enclosed by long horizontal ranges, which keep this uniform character wherever they are seen. They are the same which, under the name of the Mountains of Rahali, first meet the eye of the traveller approaching Suez from Egypt, as forming the western boundary of the great plateau ; the same which, under the name of the Mountains of the Tih, run along its southern border, as seen from Serbal or St. Catherine ; and which, under the same name, form its eastern border, as seen from Mount Hor. However much the other mountains of the Peninsula vary in form or height, the mountains of the Tih are always alike ; always faithful to their tabular outline and blanched desolation. It is this which gives them a natural affinity 1 For a lucid account of the geology of the Peninsula, I refer to a valuable oap^r on the subject by Captain New- bold iu the Madras Journal, vol. xiv. pt. ii. ; also to Russegger’s man, and to Mr. Hogg’s map and paper in Jameson’s Edinburg Philosophical Journal, vols xlviii., p. 193, xlix., p. 33. 70 SINAI AND PALESTINE. of appearance with the two long limestone walls which confine the traveller’s view down the Valley of the Nile from Cairo to Thebes ; and, again, to the unbroken line of mountains which runs along the eastern side of the Jordan, from the Dead Sea to Mount Hermon.1 One solitary station-house and fort marks this wilder¬ ness. It probably derives its name of Nakhl, the “ Palm,” from an adjacent palm-grove, now vanished ; a minature in this respect of the midway station for the great Syrian desert — u Tadmor,” “ Palmyra ” — the palm-grove station of Solomon and Zenobia, whence in like manner the palms are now said to have disappeared.2 It seems to have no peculiar features, beyond the general character of its horizontal hills, and its one wide undulating pebbly plain. If any of the stations of the Israelites mentioned in the Peetateuch were in this portion of the Peninsula, it is useless to seek for them ; nor is there apparently any passage or scene in their wanderings which derives any special light from its scenery. Its one interest now is the passage of the Mecca pilgrimage. 3 The The plateau of the Tih is succeeded by the sand- ofKlbebbe2 stone mountains which form the first approach to the er-Ramieh. pjgPggt gffiaitic range, called by the general Arabic name for a high mountain, the 66 Tor.” One narrow plain or belt of sand, called from that circumstance the 66 Debbet-er- Itamlch,” divides the table-land of the north from these mountains of the south ; the hills of 66 the Tih” — the seat of the tribe thence called “ Tiyaha,” — from the hills of the “ Tor,” the seat of the tribe thence called “ Towara.” From ger-bal and St. Catherine this yellow line of sand is distinctly visible ; and seems to be, as its name implies, the only tract of pure sand which the desert of Sinai presents. The name is of itself sufficient to indicate to 1 The Tih has been traversed and described by Ruppell, Burckliardt, and Bartlett from east to west, and by Robinson from south to north. The passage of the Caravan has been described by R.uppell and Bartlett. I did not see it, except from a distance. 9 Game’s Recolleetious of the East, vol ii., p. 545. Is it quite certain that “Tadmor” and “Palmyra” are derived from the palms ? A palm is in Hebrew “ Tamar,” and not “ Tad¬ mor;” and in Greek (and Josephus says that the Greeks gave it the name of Palmyra) “Phoenix” (4>oivif.) See Ilitzig; Zeitschrift der Deutschen Mor genlaudischen Gesellschaft, vol. viii. 222. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 71 the experienced geographer, what the traveller soon learns by observation, that sand is, properly speaking, the excep¬ tion and not the rule of the Arabian desert. In the usual route from Cairo to Suez, and from Suez to ’Akaba, it occurs only once in any great quantity or depth : namely, in the hills immediately about Huderah,1 where, it would seem, the Debbeher.-Ramleh terminates on reaching the sandstone cliffs which here shut off both it and the table-land of the Till from the Gulf of ’Akaba. There, after traversing the whole Peninsula on hard ground of gravel, pebble, or rock, the traveller again finds himself in the deep sand-drifts which he has not seen since he left them on the western shores of the Nile, en¬ veloping the temples of Ipsambul, and the Serapeum of Memphis. It is important to notice this, partly as a correction of a popular error, partly as an illustration, negative indeed, but not altogether worthless, of the narrative of the Pentateuch. Whatever other sufferings the Israelites may have undergone, the great sand-drifts which the armies of Cambyses encountered in the desert of Africa are never mentioned, nor could have been men¬ tioned, in their journeyings through the wilderness of Sinai. This brings us to the mountains of the Tor (as 4 distinct from the Tih), which form, strictly speak- Mountains of ing, the mountain-land of the Peninsula. This mass of mountains, rising in their highest points to the height of more than 9000 feet, forms the southern tower, if one may use the expression, of that long belt or chain of hills, of which the northern bulwark is the double range of Lebanon, It is the southern limit of the history of the Israelites. Their boundaries, in the narrower sense, were Dan and Beersheba ; in the wider sense, Lebanon and Sinai.2 It is with the configuration and aspect of this o # ^ CO The district that we are now chiefly concerned. The Kixynd sandy plain which parts it from the table-land of the Tih on the north has been already noticed. A similar plain, though apparently of gravel rather than of sand, under the name of El-Ka’a/ 66 the plain,” runs along its south- i See Part. II., p. 146. • See Chapter XII. 3 Called “Gall” by Pococke (i. 137) and “ Gae” by Lepsiuti. 72 SINAI AND PALESTINE. western base, generally reaching the shores of the Gulf of Suez ; but at times interrupted by a lower line of hills, which form as it were the outposts of the Sinaitic range itself, and contain the two singular mountains, known re¬ spectively as the mountains of Nakus (the Bell), and Mok- atteb (the writing). On their north-western side, and on the whole of the eastern side of the Peninsula, the moun¬ tains of the Tor descend so steeply on the shores of the respective gulfs of the Red Sea, that there is little more than the beach left between the precipitous cliffs and the rising tides. (?>) The Prom these shores or plains the traveller ascends Passes. into the mountain triangle of which they form the three sides. It is approached for the most part by rugged passes, leading to the higher land above, from which spring the cliffs and mountains themselves. These begin in a gradual, but terminate usually in a very steep, ascent — almost a staircase of rock — resembling the “ Puertas” of the Andalusian table-land ; that, for example, of Gaucin, on the way from Gibraltar to Ronda; or of Sapphira, on the way from Malaga to Granada. To these steep and rugged defiles is given .the name of 66 Nakb,” or 66 ’Akaba.” It is from one of these — that down which the Egyptian pilgrim¬ age descends, on the eastern branch of the Red Sea — that the gulf and town of ’Akaba derives its name.1 11 The others of note, are the Nakb-Badera, which is the chief entrance to the cluster of Serbal ; the Nakb-Hawy, to the cluster of Sinai : the Nakb-Um- Rachi, through which the whole range is approached from the “ Tih.”2 (c) The The cluster itself consists (speaking in general Mountains. anc[ p0pUiar language) of two formations — sand¬ stone, and granite or porphyry. These two formations, of which it may be said generally that the first constitutes the 1 There is another. ’Akaba-es-Sham — 11 the Pass of the Syrian Pilgrimage” ■ — on the eastern side of the ’Arabah (see Burckhardt’s Arabia, ii., 94) which forms the great ascent from the lower lev¬ el of Arabia to the higher level of Syria. 2 For the four passes to the Tin see Stewart, Tent and Khan, p. 167. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 73 northern, and the latter the southern division, play an important part, both in its outward aspect and in its history. To these it owes the depth and variety of colour, which distinguish it from almost all other moun¬ tainous scenery. Sandstone1 and granite alike lend the strong red hue, which, when it extends further east¬ ward, is, according to some interpretations, connected with the name of “ Edom.” It was long ago described by Diodorus Siculus as of a bright scarlet hue, and is represented in legendary pictures as of a brilliant crimson. But viewed even in the soberest light, it gives a richness to the whole mountain landscape which is wholly unknown in the gray and brown suits of our northern hills. Sandstone, moreover, when, as in the Wady Megara, and on the cliffs which line the shores of the Red Sea, it has become liable to the infirmities of age and the depredations of water, presents us with those still more extraordinary hues, of which the full description must be reserved for the scene of their greatest exemplification in the rocks of Petra.2 In these formations, too, we trace the con¬ nection of the Sinaitic range with the two adjacent countries, and with the historical purposes to which their materials have been turned. The limestone ranges of the Tih, in their abutment on the valley of the Nile, fur¬ nished the quarries of the Pyramids. It was the soft surface of these sandstone cliffs which, in the Wady Mokatteb, offered ready tablets to the writers of the so- called Sinaitic inscriptions and engravings, and to Egyptian sculptors in the Wady Megara and the valley of Sarbut- el-Kedem, just as the continuation of the same formation, ar away to the south-west, re-appears in the consecrated quarries of the gorge of Silsilis, whence were hewn the vast materials for the Temples of Thebes ; as the same cliffs, far away to the east, lent themselves to the ex¬ cavations of the Edomites and Nabataeans at Petra, and of ancient Ammon3 and Moab in the deep defiles of the A.rnon. So, too, the granite mountains, on whose hard Iluppell, p. 188. 2 See Fart II., xvil 3 See Lynch’s “ Dead Sea,” p. 368. i 74 SINAI AND PALESTINE. blocks were written the Ten Commandments of the Mosaic Law, and whose wild rents and fantastic forms have furnished the basis of so many monastic or Bedouin legends, re-appear in Egypt at the First Cataract, in the grotesque rocks that surround the island of Phike, and in the vast quarries of Syene ; and are to be found far off to the east, in Arabia Felix, forming the vast granite mass1 of Ohod, the scene of Mahomet’s first victory near Medina. The Three The mountains, thus flanked by the sandstone Groups; formations — being themselves the granitic kernel of the whole region — are divided into two, or, perhaps, three groups, each with a central summit. These are (1) the north-western cluster, which rises above WadyFeiran, and of which the most remarkable mountain — being in some respects also the most remarkable in the whole pen¬ insula — is Mount Serbal ; (2) the eastern and central cluster, of which the highest point is Mount St. Catherine ; and (3) the south-eastern cluster, which forms as it were the outskirts of the central mass, the highest point of which is Um-Shomer, the most elevated summit of the whole range. Of these points Mount St. Catherine with most of its adjacent peaks has been ascended by many travellers ; Mount Serbal by a very few, of whom only four have recorded their ascent ; Um-Shomer has been ascended by none except Burckhardt, and by him not quite to the summit. Reserving for the present the more special characteristics of these respective clusters, their general peculiarities may be best given in common. The colours2 have been already mentioned. Red, with dark green, are the predominant hues ; the two are most markedly combined in the long line of Gebel Mousa, as Pococke, with more than his usual observation, noticed long ago. These colours, especially in the neighborhood of Serbal, are 1 Burckhardt, ii., 231. 2 The most accurate description of the colours of the Desert is that given by Dr. Olin. (Travels, i., 312, 390.) Unfortu¬ nately, uo published views ever attempt it. The three peaks of red granite which overhang the northern side of the Valley of Chamouni, called from their colour the Aiguilles Rouges , give some notion of the colour and form of Sinai. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 75 diversified by the long streaks of purple which run over them from top to bottom. But it is only in the parts of the sandstone cliffs where the surface has been broken away, as in the caves of the Wady Megara, or on the shores of the two gulfs, that they present the great variety of colour which reaches its highest pitch at Petra. Another feature, less peculiar, but still highly the 0on. characteristic, is the infinite complication of jagged fllsion; peaks and varied ridges. When seen from a distance, as from the hills between Sinai and Akaba, this presents as fine an outline of mountain scenery as can be conceived, but the beauty and distinctness of a nearer view is lost in its multiplied and intricate confusion — the cause no doubt, in part, of the numerous mistakes made by trav¬ ellers in their notice of the several peaks to be seen from this or that particular point. It is this charac¬ teristic which Sir Frederick Henniker has described, with a slight exaggeration of expression, when he says that the view from Gebel Mousa (where this particular aspect is seen to the greatest perfection) is as if “ Arabia Petrsea were an ocean of lava, which, whilst its waves were running mountains high, had suddenly stood still.” It is an equally striking, and more accurate, ex- the Deso. pression of the same traveller, when he speaks of lation; the whole range as being “ the Alps unclothed.”1 This — their union of grandeur with desolation — is the point of their scenery absolutely unrivalled. They are the “ Alps” of Arabia — but the Alps planted in the Desert, and therefore stripped of all the clothing which goes to make up our notions of Swiss or English mountains ; stripped of the variegated drapery of oak, and birch, and pine, and fir ; of moss, and grass, and fern, which to landscapes of European hills, are almost as essential as the rocks and peaks themselves. Of all the charms of Switzer¬ land, the one which most impresses a traveller recently returned from the East, is the breadth and depth oi its 1 Notes during a Visit to Egypt, etc., p. 214. 76 SINAI AND PALESTINE. verdure. The very name of “ Alp” is strictly applied only to the green pasture-lands enclosed by rocks or glaciers; — a sight in the European Alps so common, in these Arabian Alps so wholly unknown. The absence of verdure, it need hardly be said, is due to the absence of water — of those perennial streams which are at once the creation and the life of every other mountain district, and the And it is this, probably, combined with the pecu- Bdenee. Harity of the atmosphere, that produces the deep stillness and consequent reverberation of the human voice, which can never be omitted in any enumeration of the characteristics of Mount Sinai. From the highest point of Ras Sasafeh to its lower peak, a distance of about sixty feet, the page of a book, distinctly but not loudly read, was perfectly audible ; and every remark of the various groups of travellers descending from the heights of the same point rose clearly to those immediately above them. It was the belief of the Arabs who conducted Niebuhr,1 that they could make themselves heard across the Gulf of ’Akaba ; a belief doubtless exaggerated, yet probably originated or fostered by the great distance to which in those regions the voice can actually be carried. And it is probably from the same cause that so much attention has been excited by the mysterious noises which have from time to time been heard on the summit of Gebel Mousa, in the neighborhood of Um-Shomer, and in the mountain2 of Nakus, or the Bell, so called from the legend that the sounds proceed from the bells3 of a convent enclosed within the mountain. In this last instance the sound is supposed to originate in the rush of sand down the mountain side ; sand, here, as elsewhere, playing the same part as the waters or snows of the north. In the case of Gebel Mousa, where it is said that the monks had originally settled on the highest peak, but were by 1 Description de l’Arabie, p. 245. 2 See the picture and description of this mountain in Wellsted, ii., 24; and a more complete and singularly graphic ac¬ count by Captain Nowbold, Journal of the R. Asiatic Society, No. xiii., 79. 3 I use the word “ bell” for the sake of convenience. But “ the sound of the church-going bell,” is unknown in the East ; and “ nakus” is really the rude cymbal or sounding-board used m Greek Churches, such as are described further on in the Coment of St. Cath- erine. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 77 these strange noises driven down to their present seat in the valley ; and in the case of Um-Shomer, where it was described to Burckhardt as like the sound of artillery, the precise cause has never been ascertained. But in all these instances the effect must have been heightened by the deathlike silence of a region where the fall of waters, even the trickling of brooks, is unknown. This last peculiarity of the Sinai range brings us to another, which has hardly been sufficiently described in the accounts of the Desert — namely, the valleys or “ wadys.”1 It is by a true instinct that the Bedouins, as a (d) The general rule, call the mountains not by any dis- Wftdys‘ tinctive name, but after the valleys or wadys which surround them. As in Europe the configuration of a country, espe¬ cially of a mountain country, depends on its rivers, so the configuration of the Desert of Sinai depends on its wadys. It is necessary to use this Arabic name, because there is no English word which exactly corresponds to the idea expressed by it. A hollow, a valley, a depression — - more or less deep, or wide, or long — worn or washed by the mountain torrents or winter rains for a few months or weeks in the year — such is the general idea of an Arabian “ wMy,” whether in the Desert or in Syria. The Hebrew word (nachal), which is, as nearly as pos¬ sible, the correlative of the Wady of the Arabic, is un¬ fortunately confounded in our translation with a distinct word (nahar) under the common version of “ river/’ though occasionally rendered, with a greater attempt at accuracy , by the name of “ brook.” For a few weeks or days in the winter these valleys present, it is said, the appearance of rushing streams. A graphic description is given of this sudden conversion of the dry bed of the Wady Mousa into a thundering 1 The wui-d wady (spelt by the French ouadi ), is properly a “ hollow between hills, whether dry or moist.” It is said to bo driven from “ wada,” a verb of a strange sign ideation, but of which apparently the fundamental idea must be to “perforate by water.” Naclcal , in like manner, is probably from chalal, to “perforate.” See Appendix, sub voce. 78 SINAI AND PALESTINE. mountain torrent, in Miss Martineau’s account of Petra. Another such is recorded by Wellsted near Tor.1 The Wady Shellal (the Valley of the Cataracts) both in its name and aspect bears every trace of its wintry cascades. But their usual aspect is absolutely bare and waste ; only presenting the image of thirsty desolation the more strikingly, from the constant indications of water which is no longer there. But so essentially are they, in other respects, the rivers of the Desert, and so entirely are they the only likeness to rivers which an Arab could conceive, that in Spain we find the name reproduced by the Arab conquerors of Andalusia ; sometimes, indeed, fitly enough, as applied to the countless water-courses of Southern Spain, only filled like the valleys of Arabia by a sudden descent of showers, or melting of snow ; but some¬ times to mighty rivers, to which the torrents of the Desert could furnish only the most general parallel. Few who pass to and fro along the majestic river between Cadiz and Seville, remember that its name is a recollection of the Desert far away ; the Arab could find no other appellation for the Bsetis than that of “ The Great Wady” — Guad-al- Khebir.2 To these waterless rivers the Desert owes its boundaries, its form, its means of communication, as truly as the 1 Quoted in Ritter, Sinai, p. 456. These instances, to which others might be added, are a complete answer to the doubt expressed by Mr. .Fazakerley of the accuracy of Niebuhr’s statements of these winter torrents. (Walpole’s Me¬ moirs, ii., 301.) 2 A still more remarkable instance of this violent adaptation of the scanty nomenclature of the Desert to tho varied features of European scenery, has been pointed out by M. Engelhardt, in his learned work on the valleys of Monto Rosa. It appears that in the ninth and tenth centuries the valley of Saas was occupied by a band of Sarcacens; and M. Engelhardt ingeni¬ ously, though in one or two instances fancifully, derived the existing names of tho localities in that valley from these strange occupants. Amongst these are tho Monte Moro — the Pass of the Moors — and the two villages or stations of Almagal , and the mountain of Mis- chebel ; of which the former, by tho likeness of its first syllable to tho Arabian article a\ the latter or its termination to the word gabel , cer¬ tainly confirm the hypothesis. But tho most curious and the most probable is the name of the huge glacier through which rushes the wild torrent of tho Visp. Hardly two objects less like can be conceived than that mass of ice, with its lake reflecting the glaciers in the tranquil water, and the abundant stream gushing from its bosom, on tho one hand; and on the other hand, the scanty rivulet or pool in that hot rocky bed of the Desert, fringed with palm or acacia. But this was the only imago which the Arabs had of a source or spring of a river. And “Al-al- Ain,” ac¬ cordingly, is tho present nane of th« glacier of their Alpine valley. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 79 countries or districts of Europe owe theirs to the living streams which divide range from range, and nation from nation. Sometimes, as in the Wady Tayibeh and the Wady Sayal, a broad and winding track; sometimes, as in the Wady Mousa, closed between overarching cliffs; sometimes, as in the Wady Es-Sheykh, having a vast margin on each side, such- as, in a happier soil and climate, would afford pastorage for a thousand cattle ; sometimes, as in the Wady Sidri, expanding into a level space, where in Switzerland and Westmoreland, the surrounding preci¬ pices would descend, not as there on a waste of sand or gravel, but on a bright and transparent lake ; they yet all have this in common, that they are the high roads of the Desert : the stations, the tribes, the mountains, are as truly along their banks, and distinguished by their courses, as if they were rivers or railroads. By observ¬ ing their peculiarities, their points of junction, and their general direction, any one who had once traversed the route from Cairo to Petra, would probably find his way back without any great risk or difficulty. And, as in western countries, amongst a variety of lesser streams there is generally one commanding river which absorbs all the rest, and serves as the main line of communication for the whole region, so it is with the wadys of the Desert. Um-Shomer, St. Catherine, and Serbal, are not more decisively the dominant summits of the Sinaitic mountains, than is the Wady Es-Sheykh — the “ valley of the saint ” — the queen of the Sinaitic rivers. The immense curve by which it connects the two great clusters of the Peninsula is as clear in reality as on the map. Thus the general character of the wadys as well The Vege. as of the mountains of Sinai, is entire desolation. talion; If the mountains are naked Alps, the valleys are dry rivers. But there are exceptions in both instances. There is nearly everywhere a thin, it might almost be said a transparent, coating of vegetation. There are occasional spots of ver dure, which escape notice in a general view, but for that very reason are the more remarkable when observed. It is said that travellers, on arriving at Lisbon from Madrid, after crossing the bare table-land of central Spain, are 80 SINAI AND PALESTINE. asked, “ Do you remember that tree you passed on the road ?” The same feeling is more strongly experienced in the passage of the Desert. Not perhaps every single tree, but every group of trees, lives in the traveller’s recollection as distinctly as the towns and spires of civilised countries. Accordingly, both the valleys, and (where they are not named directly from the valleys) the mountains also are usually named from the slight vegeta¬ tion by which they are distinguished from each other. The highest peak of the whole range is known by no other name than the trivial appellation of Um-Shomer, — “ the mother of fennel,” — doubtless from the fennel which Burckhardt describes as characteristic of the Peninsula. That part of the Ras Sasafeh, which represents, according to Dr. Robinson’s view, the Horeb of Moses, is the “ willow- head,” from the group of two or three willows which grow in the Wady Sasafeh, in its recesses. Serbal is possibly so called from the ser, or myrrh, which creeps over its ledges up to the very summit. And (judging by this analogy) the most probable origin even of the ancient “ Sinai ” is the seneh or acacia, with which, as we know, it then abounded. The Wady Abou-Hamad is from the old fig-tree — the “ father of fig-trees” — in its deep clefts ; the Wady Sidri from its bushes of wild thorn the Wady Sayal from the acacia; the Wady Tayibeh, from the u goodly” water and vegetation it contains.*2 The The more definitely marked spots of verdure, spiiugs; however, are the accompaniments not of the empty beds of winter torrents, but of the few living, perhaps peren¬ nial, springs, which, by the mere facts of their rarity, assume an importance difficult to be understood in the moist scenery 5 See Ritter, Sinai, pp. 346, 748. 2 The names of the Alps are, for the most part, derived from some pecu liarity of the mountain — the Wetter- horn, Silberliorn, the Jungfrau, Mont Blanc, and the like. But one of the most striking has received its name, like those Arabian hills, from the vege¬ tation of the valleys at its foot. The marvellous peak of “ the Matterhorn ” is so called, not from its extraordi¬ nary formation and shape, but from »*e fact that the first view of it usually obtained brings it before us in con¬ nection with the green pastures and woods of Matt or Zer-Matt, above which it rises ; “ Matt ” being the pro¬ vincial word for meadow or mead , of which it is in fact only another form — as in An-der-Matt , the village on the mead of the St. Gothard Pass. The German name of the mountain is thus “ the peak of the meadows ,” as tliG Italian name (for a similar reason) is Monto Silvio — the Mountain of the Forests. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 81 of the West and North. These springs, whose sources are for the most part high up in the mountain clefts, occasion ally send down into the wadys rills of water, which how¬ ever scanty — however little deserving of the name even of brooks1- vet become immediately the nucleus of whatevei vegetation the Desert produces. Often their course can be traced, not by visible water, but a track of moss here, a fringe of rushes there, a solitary palm, a group of acacias — which at once denote that an unseen life is at work. Wherever these springs are to be found, there, we cannot doubt, must always have been the resort of the wanderers in the Desert ; and they occur at such frequent intervals, that, after leaving Suez, there is at least one such spot in each successive day’s journey. In two of the great wadys which lead from the first beginnings of the Sinai range to the Gulf of Suez — Ghurundel, and Useit with its continuation of the Wady Tayibeh — such tracts of vegetation are to be found in considerable luxuriance. In a still greater degree is this the case in all the various wadys leading down from the Sinai range to the Gulf of ’Akaba — of which the Wady Ei-’Ain is described by Riippell and by Miss Martineau ; the Wady Sumghy by Dr. Robinson ; and the Wady Kyd by Burck- hardt — in all of which this union of vegetation with the fantastic scenery of the desolate mountains presents a com¬ bination as beautiful as it is extraordinary. In three spots, however, in the Desert, and in three only, so far as appears, this vegetation is brought by the concurrence of the general configuration of the country to a still higher pitch. By far the most remarkable collection of springs is that which renders the cluster of Gebel Mousa the chief resort of the Bedouin tribes during the summer heats. Four abundant sources in the mountains imme¬ diately above the Convent of St. Catherine must always have made that region one of the most frequented of the Desert. But there are two other such spots, of con¬ siderable importance. It has been already observed that, The Oases. 1 Riippell notices four perennial 4. The Wady Hebran. i only saw brooks : 1. The Wady El-’Ain. 2. The the firs* and third. See Part II. vi. Wady Salaka. 3. The Wady Feiran. vil xii. 82 SINAI ANT) PALESTINE. in order fully to understand the geography of Sinai, we must combine it with the geography of the neighbouring countries. Every one has heard of the Oasis of Ammon, in the western desert of the Nile. What that oasis is on a great scale may he seen on a small scale elsewhere ; namely, deep depressions of the high table-land, which thus become the receptacles of all the rain and torrents, and, conse¬ quently, of the vegetation and the life of the whole of that portion of the Desert. These oases, therefore, are to he found wherever the waters from the different wadys or hills, whether from winter-streams, or from such living springs as have just been described, converge to a com¬ mon reservoir. One such oasis in the Sinaitic desert seems to he the palm-grove of El-Wady at Tor,1 — the seaport half way down the Gulf of Suez, — which re¬ ceives all the waters which flow down from the higher range of Sinai to the sea. The other, and the more important, is the Wady Feiran, high up in the table¬ land of Sinai itself; but apparently receiving all the waters which, from the springs and torrents of the cen¬ tral cluster of Mount Sinai, flow through the Wady Es- Sheykh into this basin, where their further exit is forbidden by the rising ground in the Wady Feiran.2 These two green spots are the oases of Sinai, and with the nucleus of springs in Gebel Mousa, form the three chief centres of vegetation in the Peninsula. II. This is the general conformation of the Grenoral ^ adaptation to scenery through which the Israelites passed. Even tho history. .° , A , , , it their precise route were unknown, yet. the pe¬ culiar features of the country have so much in common that the history would still receive many remarkable illustra¬ tions. They were brought into contact with a desolation, The which was forcibly contrasted with the green Val- scenery. of the Nile. They were enclosed within a sanctuary of temples and pyramids not made with hands, — the more awful from its total dissimilarity to anything i Burckhardt (Arabia, ii., 362) de¬ scribes the palm-grove as so thick, that lie could hardly find his way through it. It is two miles from the village of Tor in a valley called emphatically, El- Watty, “ The Wady.” (AVellstcd, ii., 9.) 2 See Part IL vi. Tor I did not see. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 83 which they or their fathers could have remembered in Egypt or in Palestine. They were wrapt in a silence which gave full effect to the morning and the evening shout with which the encampment rose and pitched, and still more to the “ thunders, and the voice exceeding loud ” on the top of Horeb. The Prophet and his People were thus secluded from all former thoughts and associations, that “ Separate from the world, his breast Might duly take and strongly keep The print of God, to be exprest Ere long on Sion’s steep.”1 Not less illustrative, though perhaps less explanatory, of the more special incidents recorded, are some of the more local peculiarities of the Desert. The occasional springs, and wells, and brooks, are in accordance with the notices of the “ waters ” of Marah ; the “ springs ” (mistranslated “wells’’) of Elim; the “ brook” of Horeb; the “wTell” of Jethro’s daughters, with its “trough” or tanks, in Midian.2 The vegetation is still that which we should infer from the Mosaic history. The wild Acacia (. Mimosa Nilotica ), under the name of “ sont,” everywhere repre¬ sents the “ seneh ” or “senna” of the Burning Bush.3 A slightly different form of the tree, equally common under the name of “ sayal,” is the ancient “ Shittah,”4 or, as more usually expressed in the plural form (from the tangled thickets into which its stem expands), the “ Shittim,”- of which the tabernacle was made, — an inci¬ dental proof, it may be observed, of the antiquity of the institution, inasmuch as the acacia, though the chief growth of the Desert, is very rare in Palestine.6 The “ Retem,” or wild broom, with its high canopy and white blossoms, give its name to one of the stations of the Israelites (Rithmah),7 and is the very shrub under i Keble’s Christian Year, 13th Sun¬ day after Trinity. I have everywhere quoted from this work the illustrations it contains of Scripture scenery, not only becaues of its wide circulation, but because tlio careful attention of its learned author to all local allusions renders it almost a duty to test these allusions, whenever opportunity occurs, by reference to tho localities them¬ selves. 2 Ex.xv. 23, 27; Deut. ix. 21 , Ex. ii. 16. 3 Ex. iii. 2; Deut. xxxiii. 16. See Part II. iv. 4 Isa. xli. 19. 5 Exod. xxv. 5, 10, 13; xxvL 261 xxvii. 1, 6, &c. 6 Tho gum which exudes from it is said to bo the old Arabian frankincense, and is brought from Sinai by Tor. See Clarke’s Travels, vol. v. 75. 7 Num. xxxiii. 18, 19. 84 SINAI AND PALESTINE. which — in the only subsequent passage which connects the Desert with the history of Israel — Elijah slept1 in his wanderings. The a palms,” not the graceful trees of Egypt, hut the hardly less picturesque wild palms of uncultivated regions, with their dwarf trunks and shaggy branches, vindicate by their very appearance the title of being emphatically the “ trees” of the Desert;2 and there¬ fore, whether in the cluster of the seventy palm trees of the second station of the wanderings,3 or in the grove, which still exists at the head of the Gulf of ’Akaba,4 were known by the generic name of “ Elim,” “Elath,” or “ Eloth,”5 u the trees.” The “ tarfa” or tamarisk, is not mentioned by name in the history of the Exodus ; yet, if the tradition of the Greek Church and of the Arabs be adopted, it is inseparably connected with the wanderings by the “ manna ” which distils from it, as gum-arabic from the acacia. It is also brought within the limit of their earlier history by the grove of “ tamarisks,”6 which Abraham planted round the wells of Beersheba, as soon as he had exchanged the vegetation of Palestine, — the oaks of Moreh and of Mamre, — for the wild and scanty shrubs of the desert frontier. The “ lasaf,” or u asaf,” the caper plant, the bright green creeper, which climbs out of the fissures of the rocks in the Sinaitic valleys,7 has been identified on grounds of great probability with the 1 1 Kings xix. 4, mistranslated “ju¬ niper.” It is the “ spartium juncum ” of Linnaeus. In Job xxx. 4, it is de¬ scribed as the food of the wild inhabi¬ tants of Edom when driven into the Desert. The word is also used in Ps. cxx. 4. See Part II., iv. xii. 2 The palms in the palm-grove at Tor are all registered. Property in them is capital; marriage portions are given in dates, like tulips in Holland. (Hen- niker, p. 217.) 8 Exod. xv. 2 7 ; xvi. 1 ; Num. xxxiii. 9. 4 Deut. ii. 8 ; 1 Kings ix. 26 ; 2 Kings xiv. 22; xvi. 6; 2 Chr. viii. 17 ; xxvi. 2. 6 It is the same word which in Pales¬ tine is used habitually for the ilex or terebinth ; an instructive change, because the terebinth is as emphatically the dis¬ tinguished tree (if one may so say) of Palestine, as the Palm is of the Desert. See Chapter II., p. 209. 6 The “ Eshel ” Zpovpa, LXX.) of Gen. xxi. 33. It is also used in 1 Sam. xxii. 6, for a tree at Hamah ; and in 1 Sam. xxxi. 13, for a tree at Jabesh, which in 1 Chron. x. 12, is called an “oak” (Elah). This last example perhaps throws doubt on the previous usage. But it cau hardly be doubted that the tamarisk is in tended in Gen. xxi. 33. See Part II., iv., and Appendix. 7 Ritter, Sinai, 345, 761. I remember it especially in the Wady Shellal, the Wady El-’ Ain, and the Sik at Petra. (See Fart II. pp. 70, 81, 90.) To us, as to Lepsius and Forskal, the Bedouin name seemed to be Lasaf or Lasef. But it is the same as Burckhardt, Freytag, and Richardson give under the name of Aszef and Asaf; and the other form is probably only a corrup¬ tion of al-asaf (See Journal of R. Asiat Soc., No. xv. 203); as, on the contrary, PENINSULA OF SINAI. 85 “ hyssop ” or “ ezob ” of Scripture, and thus explains whence came the green branches used, even in the Desert, for sprinkling the water over the tents of the Israelites.1 Again, it has often been asked whether there are ] j any natural phenomena by which the wonders of the cat phono- v ^ ^ ^ menci giving of fhe Law can be explained or illustrated. There are at first sight many appearances which, to an un * practised eye, seem indications of volcanic agency. But they are all, it is believed, illusory. The vast heaps, as of calcined mountains, are only the detritus of iron in the sandstone formation.2 The traces of igneous action on the granite rocks belong to their first upheaving, not to any subsequent con¬ vulsions. Everywhere there are signs of the action of water, nowhere of fire. On the other hand the mysterious sounds which have been mentioned on Um-Shomer and (rebel Mousa, may be in some way connected with the terrors described in the Mosaic narrative. If they are, they furnish an ad¬ ditional illustration, not to say an additional proof, of the historical truth of the narrative. If they are not, it must rest, as heretofore, on its own internal evidence. Finally, the relation of the Deseri to its modern inhabitants is still illustrative of its ancient history. ants- The general name by which the Hebrews called “ the wilder¬ ness,” including always that of Sinai, was “ the pasture.”3 Bare as the surface of the Desert is, yet the thin clothing of vegetation, which is seldom entirely withdrawn, especially the aromatic shrubs on the high hill-sides, furnish sufficient sustenance for the herds of the six thousand Bedouins who constitute the present population of the Peninsula. “ Along the mountain ledges green, The scatter’d sheep at will may glean The Desert’s spicy stores.’’4 Bethany is sometimes called El-Az- arieh, from a corruption of Lazarieh. The arguments in favor of thek identifications are thus summed up by Professor Royle. ‘‘It is found in Lower Egypt, in the deserts of Sinai. . . . Its habit is to grow on the most barren soil, or rocky precipice, or the side of a wall. ... It has, moreover, always been supposed to possess cleansing properties, [especially in cu¬ taneous disorders. Pliny, H. N., xx. 15], . . It is capablo of yielding a stick, to which the sponge might bo affixed.” (Journal of R. Asiat. Soc., No. xv., p. 202.) The word vaounoc seems to have been used by the LXX as the Greek name most nearly resembling the Hebrew “ Ezob ” in sound, though differing in sense. — Thus Ba/uf is used for “ Birth ,” and B tijiog for “ Bamah.” 1 Numb. xix. 18. 2 See Part II. vi. 3 “Midbar.” See Appendix, sub voce. 4 Christian Year, 5th Sunday in Lent. 86 SINAI AND PALESTINE. So were they seen following the daughters or the shepherd-* slaves of Jethro. So may they be seen climbing the rocks, or gathered round the pools and springs of the valleys, under the charge of the black-veiled Bedouin women of the present day. And in the Tiyaha, Towara, or Alouin tribes, with their chiefs and followers, their dress, and manners, and habitations, we probably see the likeness of the Midianites, the Amalekites, and the Israelites them¬ selves in this their earliest stage of existence. The long straight lines of black tents which cluster round the Desert springs, present to us on a small scale the image of the vast encampment gathered round the one Sacred Tent which, with its coverings of dyed skins, stood conspicuous in the midst, and which recalled the period of their nomadic life long after their settlement in Palestine.1 The deserted villages — marked by rude enclosures of stone — are doubtless such as those to which the Hebrew wanderers gave the name of “ Hazeroth,”2 and which afterwards furnished the type of the primitive sanctuary at Shiloh.3 The rude burial-grounds, with the many nameless head¬ stones, far away from human habitation, are such as the host of Israel must have left behind them at the different stages of their progress — at Massah, at Sinai, at Kibroth- hattaavah, “ the graves of desire.” The salutations of the chiefs, in their bright scarlet robes, the one 66 going out of meet the other,” the “ obeisance,” the “ kiss” on each side the head, the silent entrance into the tent for consultation, are all graphically described in the encounter between Moses and Jethro.4 The constitution of the tribes, with the subordinate degrees of sheykhs, recommended by Jethro to Moses, is the very same which still exists amongst those who are possibly his lineal descendants — the gentle race of the Towara.5 change in As we pass from the Desert to its inhabitants, a ofetheatUDe- question naturally arises — How far can we be sure 8fcrt- that we have the same outlines, and colors, and forms, that were presented to those who wandered through 1 1 Chron. xxi. 29 ; 2 Chron. i. 3. 4 Exodus xviii. 7. a Soo p. 148, and Appendix. 1 Ritter, Sinai, pp. 93G, 937. 8 See Chapter V. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 87 these mountains and valleys three thousand years ago ? It might at first sight seem, that in this, as in other respects, the interests of the Desert of Sinai would he unique ; that here, more than in any other great stage of historical events, the outward scene must remain precisely as it was ; that the convent of Justinian with its gardens, the ruins of Paran, with the remains of hermits’ cells long since desolate, are the only alterations which human hands have introduced into these wild solitudes. Even the Egyptian monuments and sculptures which are carved out of the sandstone rocks, were already there, as the Israelites passed by — me¬ morials at once of their servitude and of their deliver¬ ance. But a difficulty has often been stated that renders it necessary somewhat to modify this assump¬ tion of absolute identity between the ancient and modern Desert. The question is asked — “ How could a tribe, so numerous and powerful as, on any hypothesis, the Israelites must have been,1 be maintained in this inhospitable desert V It is no answer to say that they were sustained by miracles ; for except the manna, the quails, and the three interventions in regard to water, none such are mentioned in the Mosaic history; and if we have no warrant to take away, we have no warrant to add. Nor is it any answer to say that this difficulty is a proof of the impossibility, and therefore of the unhistorical character of the narrative. For, as Ewald has well shown, the general truth of the wanderings in the wilderness is an essential preliminary to the whole of the subsequent history of Israel. Something, of course, may be allowed for the spread of the tribes of Israel far and wide through the whole peninsula ; some¬ thing, also, for the constant means of support from their own flocks and herds. More, also, might bo elicited than has yet been done, from the undoubted fact that a population nearly if not quite equal to the whole permanent i In spite of the difficulties attending upon the statement of the 600,000 armed men, as given in the Pentateuch, nnd the uncertainty always attached to attaining exact statements of num¬ bers in any ancient text, or in any Oriental calculation, in this case tho most recent and tho most critical in¬ vestigation of this history inclines to adopt tho numbers of 600,000 as au¬ thentic. Ewald G-cschiehto. (2nd edit.)* ii. 61, 253, 359. 88 SINAI AND PALESTINE. population of the Peninsula does actually pass through the Desert, in the caravan of the five thousand African pilgrims on their way to Mecca. It is, of course, a number incom¬ parably less than that ascribed to the Israelites, and passing only for a few days, but still it shows what may be done for a large addition to the habitual population ot the country, even when traversing a portion of the Desert (the Tih) far less available for resources of life than the mountains of Sinai. Yet it must be acknowledged that none of these considerations solve the difficulty, though they mitigate its force. It is therefore important to observe what indications there may be of the moun¬ tains of Sinai having ever been able to furnish greater resources than at present. These indications are well summed up by Ritter.1 There is no doubt that the vegetation of the wadys has considerably decreased. In part, this would be an inevitable effect of the violence of the winter torrents. The trunks of palm-trees washed up on the shore of the Dead Sea, from which the living tree has now for many centuries disappeared, show what may have been the devastation produced amongst those mountains, where the floods, especially in earlier times, must have been violent to a degree unknown in Palestine ; whilst the peculiar cause — the impregnation of salt — which has preserved the vestiges of the older vegetation there, has here, of course, no existence. The traces of such a destruction were pointed out to Burckhardt on the eastern side of Mount Sinai,2 as having occurred within half a century before his visit ; also to Wellsted,8 as having occurred near Tor, in 1832. In part, the same result has followed from the reckless vmste of the Bedouin tribes — reckless in destroying, and careless in replenishing. A fire, a pipe, lit under a grove of Desert trees, may clear away the vegetation of a whole valley. So Laborde observed,4 to justify his preference of the Wady Useit to the Wady Ghurundel as the site of Elim, against the objection that there were fewer palms in the former than 1 Ritter, Sinai, pp. 926, 927. There is 8 Burckhardt, p. 538. u chapter on the same subject in the first 8 Wellsted, ii., 15. volume of Captain Allen’s “Dead Sea.” 4 Commentary on Exodus, p. 85. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 89 in the latter. The truth of his remark is amply confirmed by the fact, that, in the few years which have elapsed since his visit, the case is reversed. There may, perhaps, be not more palms at Useit than in Laborde’s time, but there are fewer at Ghurundel and no one now who was guided by the wish to choose the larger palm-grove, could hesitate to select Useit. Again, it is mentioned by Riippell, that the acacia trees have been of late years ruthlessly destroyed by the Bedouins for the sake of charcoal ; espe¬ cially since they have been compelled by the Pasha of Egypt to pay a tribute in charcoal for an assault committed on the Mecca caravan in the year 1823. 2 Charcoal from the acacia is, in fact, the chief, perhaps it might be said the only, traffic of the Peninsula. Camels are constantly met, loaded with this wood, on the way between Cairo and Suez. And as this probably has been carried on in great degree by the monks of the convent, it may account for the fact, the whereas in the valleys of the western and the eastern clusters this tree abounds more or less, yet in the central cluster itself, to which modern traditions certainly, and geographical considera¬ tions probably, point as the mountains of the burning “ thorn,” and the scene of the building of the Ark and all the utensils of the Tabernacle from this very wood, there is now not a single acacia to be seen. If this be so, the greater abundance of vegetation would, as is well known, have furnished a greater abundance of water, and this again would re-act on the vegetation, from which the means of subsistence would be procured. How much may be done by a careful use of such water and such soil as the Desert supplies, may be seen by the -only two spots to which, now, a diligent and provident attention is paid ; namely, the gardens at the Wells of Moses, under the care of the French and English agents from Suez, and the gardens in the valleys of Gebel Mousa, under the care of the Greek monks of the convent of St. Catherine. Even as late as the seventeenth century, if we may trust the expression of Monconys,3 the Wady Er- i In 1853 I counted twenty at Useit, 2 Riippell, p. 190. and six at Ghurundel. See Fart II. iv. 3 Journal des Voy., p. 420. 90 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Rfiheh in front of the convent, now entirely bare, was “ a vast green plain,” — “ une grande champagne verier And that there was in ancient times a greater population than at present — which would, again, by thus furnishing heads and hands to consider and to cultivate these spots of vegetation, tend to increase and to preserve them — may be inferred from several indications.1 The Amalekites who contested the passage of the Desert with Israel were, — if we may draw any inferences from this very fact, as well as from their wide-spread name and power even to the time of Saul and David, and from the allusion to them in Balaam’s prophecy as u the first of the nations,” — something more than a mere handful of Bedouins. The Egyptian copper-mines, and monuments, and hiero¬ glyphics, in Sarhut-el-Kedem and the Wady Megara, imply a degree of intercourse between Egypt and the Penin¬ sula in the earliest days of Egypt, of which all other traces have long ceased. The ruined cities of Edom in the mountains east of the ’Arabah, and the remains and history of Petra itself, indicate a traffic and a population in these remote regions which now seems to us almost 1 In tho question of the mainte¬ nance of the Israelites, it is impossible to avoid considering tho question of tho identity of the present manna with that described in the Mosaic history. Tho hypothesis of their identity, it must bo remembered, is no modern fancy ; but was believed by Josephus (Ant. iii. 2) and has always been main¬ tained by the Greek Church in its representatives at the Convent of St. Catherine; and portions of it have been by them deliberately sold as such to pilgrims and travellers for many cen¬ turies. It must be acknowledged, with all deference to so ancient a tradition, that tho only arguments in its favour are the name and the locality in which it is found. An exudation like honey, produced by insects from the leaves of the tamarisk, used only for medicinal purposes, and falling on the ground only from accident or neglect, and at present produced in sufficient quantities only to support one man for six months, has obviously but few points of similarity with tho “ small round thing, small as the hoarfrost on the ground ; like cori¬ ander seed, white, its taste like wafers mado with honey ; gathered and ground in mills , and beat in a mortar , baked in pans and made into cakes, and its taste as the taste' of fresh oil;” and spoken of as forming at least a consi¬ derable part of the sustenance of a vast caravan like that of the Israelites. All the arguments in favour of the ancient view of the identity may be seen in Ritter (pp. 6G5 — 695), all those it favour of the modern view of tho diversity of the two kinds of manna, in Robinson (vol. i., p. 170) and Laborde' (Commentary on Exodus and Numbers, p. 97). So far as the argument against its identity depends on its insufficiency, the greater abundance of vegetation, and therefore of tarfa trees, should be taken into account. And it should be observed, that the manna found in Kurdistan and Persia far more nearly corresponds to tho Mosaic account, and also is asserted by the Bedouins and others to fall fresh from heaven (Wellsted, iii., 48.) PENINSULA OF SINAI. 91 Local tra¬ ditions of the history. inconceivable. And even in much later times, — in the fourth and fifth centuries of our era — the writings of Christian pilgrims on the rocks, whether in the Sinaitic characters, in Greek, or in Arabic ; as well as the numerous remains of cells, gardens, houses, chapels, and churches, now deserted and ruined, both in the neighbourhood of Gebel Mousa and of Serbal, all show that even the Desert was not always the dreary waste that it is now. Whether these changes are sufficient to explain the difficulty in answer to which they are alleged, niay be doubtful. But they at least help to meet it, and they must under any circumstances be borne in mind, to modify in some degree the image which we form to ourselves of the scenes of the Israelite history. III. And now, is it possible to descend into de¬ tails, and to ascertain the route by which the Israel¬ ites passed — over the Red Sea, and then through the desert to Palestine ? First, can we be guided by tra¬ dition ? In other words, has the recollection of those past events formed part of the historical consciousness and tra¬ dition of the Desert, or has it been merely devised in later times from conjectures either of the Greek monks and hermits of Sinai speculating on the words of the Old Testament, or of the Bedouin chiefs applying here and there a fragment of their knowledge of the Koran? Such a question can only be authoritatively answered by a traveller who, with a complete knowledge of Arabic, has sifted and compared the various legends and stories of the several tribes of the Peninsula. But any one, by combining nis own experience, however slight, with the accounts of pre¬ vious travellers, especially of Burckhardt, may form an ap¬ proximation to the truth. From whatever date it may be derived, there is unquestionably a general atmosphere of Mosaic tradition everywhere. From Petra to Cairo — from the northern platform of the Peninsula to its southern extremity, the name and the story of Moses is still predominant. There are the two groups of “ Wells of Moses,” one on each side the Gulf of Suez — there are the “ Baths of Pharaoh ” — and the u Baths ol Moses ” Ra¬ ther down the coast ; there is the “ Seat of Moses,” near 1 . Arab tradition. Traditions of Moses. 92 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Bisatin, and in the W4dy Feirhn; there is the u Mountain of Moses ” in the cluster of Sinai ; the “ Cleft of Moses ” in Mount St. Catherine; the “ Valley” and the 66 Cleft of Moses,” at Petra ; the “ Island of Pharaoh,” or of “ Moses,” in the Gulf of ’Akaba. There is the romantic story told to Burckhardt,1 that the soughing of wind down the Pass of Nuweybi’a, on that gulf, is the wailing of Moses as he leaves his loved mountains ; there is the “ Hill of Aaron,” at the base of the traditional Iloreb; the “ Tomb of Aaron,” at the summit of the 66 Mountain of Aaron,” overhanging Petra. It is possible, too, that the plateau of the Tih, or of the “ Wanderings,” on the north of the Peninsula, — the valley of the Tih, with the Mountain of Gheiboun (Doubt), on the southern road from Cairo to Suez — and the Gebel ’Attaka, or Mountain of Deliverance, be¬ tween that valley and Suez, have reference to the wander¬ ings and the escape of Israel. But these latter names may perhaps have originated in the dangers and deliverances of the Mecca pilgrimage. Two circumstances throw doubt on the contin¬ ue ancient uity of this tradition. The first is, that hardly in one instance do the actual localities bear the names preserved in the Old Testament. These names are fre¬ quent and precise. The different regions of the Desert which are indicated by their natural features, as above de¬ scribed, all seem to have had their special nomenclatures. All these as general names have perished. One name only, that of Par an , has lingered in the valley and city of that name — apparently the same as that corrupted into Feirdn ; just as the name of Hellas is preserved only in a solitary hamlet on the banks of the Sper chius in Thessaly. The names of the particular stations which are given both in the general narrative, and in the special enumera¬ tion in the 33d chapter of the Book of Numbers, have also disappeared. There are three possible exceptions : the defile of MuMala may be a corruption of Migdol ; Ajerood of Pi-hahiroth ; Huderah of Hazeroth. But these are all doubtful, and of the others, even of the most celebrated, Marali, Elim, and Rephidim, no trace remains. 1 Burckhardt, p. 517. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 93 More remarkable still, perhaps, if we did not remember how very rarely mountains retain their nomenclature from age to age, is the disappearance of the names of Horeb and Sinai.1 What was the original meaning or special appropriation of these two names it is difficult to de¬ termine.2 * * * “ Horeb ” is probably the 66 Mountain of the Dried-up Ground;” “ Sinai” the “ Mountain of the Thorn.” Either name applies, therefore, almost equally to the general aspect or to the general vegetation of the whole range. But both are now superseded by the fanciful appellations which attach to each separate peak, or by the common name of “ Tor,” in which all are merged alike. The names now given to the mountains, as be- Modem fore observed, are chiefly derived either from the names- adjacent w&dys, or from their peculiar vegetation. Some few are called from some natural peculiarity, such as Gebel Ilammam, so called from the warm springs at its foot; or Tas Sudr, from its cuplike shape. Some, however, both of the wadys and the mountains, are called from legendary or historical events attached to them. Such are the Wady Es-Sheykh — the central valley of the Peninsula, which derives its name from the tomb • ' _____ of Sheykh Saleh ;8 the Gebel-el-Banat — the “ Mountain of the Damsels,” so called from a story of two Bedouin sisters having, in a fit of disappointed love, twisted their hair together, and leaped from the two peaks 1 One of the most intelligent guides I ever saw in any mountain country — Sheykh Zeddan, Sheykh of Serbal, — who accompanied us to the top of that mountain, was wholly unacquainted with the names of Horeb and Sinai ; and this seemed to be the general rule. But it must be observed, that in Nie¬ buhr’s time the Arabs spoke of the whole cluster now called “ Tor ” as “Tor Sina ” (Description de l’Arabie, p. 200) ; and the little Arab guides of the convent (as will be noticed afterwards, see p.107) gave to one particular peak the name of “ Sena.” 2 The special use of “ Iloreb ” and “ Sinai ” in the Old Testament has often been discussed. It appears to me that this depends rather on a distinc¬ tion of usage than of place. 1. In Exodus, Leviticus, and Numbers, Smai is always and exclusively used for the scene of the Giving of the Law ; Horeb being only used twice — for the scene of the Burning Bush, and of the Striking of the Rock. (Ex. iii. I, xvii. 6, are doubtful ; Ex. xxxiii. 6, is ambiguous.) 2. In Deuteronomy, Horeb is substituted for Sinai , the former being always used, the latter never, for the Mountain of the Law. 3. In the Psalms, the two are used indifferently for the Mountain of the Law. 4. In 1 Kings xix. 8, it is impossible to determine to what part, if to any special part, Horeb is applied For a further discussion of the subject see Lopsius’ Letters, p. 3LL 3 See p. 121 ; Part II., p. 145. 94 SINAI AND PALESTINE. of the mountain, which, in all probability, originated the legend ; Gebel-Katherin, or Mountain of St. Catherine, the scene of the miraculous translation of the body of that saint from Alexandria. This nomenclature suggests the likelihood that the various names before mentioned in con¬ nection with the Mosaic history are comparatively modern, If the monks of the convent have been able so completely to stamp the name of St. Catherine on one of their peaks, there is no reason to doubt that they may have been equally able to stamp the name of Moses on the other.1 But, secondly, the moment that the Arab traditions of Moses are examined in detail, they are too fantastic to be treated seriously. They may well be taken as repre¬ senting some indistinct or mysterious impression left by that colossal figure as he passed before the vision of their ancestors. But it is not possible to apply them for verification of special events or localities. The passage of the Bed Sea, as Niebuhr has well remarked, is fixed wherever the traveller puts the question to his Arab guides. The “ Wells of Moses,” the “Baths of Pharaoh,” the “ Baths of Moses,” all down the Gulf of Suez, and the “ Island of Pharaoh,” in the Gulf of ’Akaba, equally derive their names from traditions of the passage at each of these particular spots. The “ warm springs of Pharaoh ” are his last breath as the waves past over him; the “ Wells of Moses,” the “ Baths of Moses,” the great “ Clefts of Moses ” on St. Catherine, and at Petra, are equally the results of Moses’ rod. The “ Mountain of Moses ” is so called, not so much from any tradition of the Giving of the Law, as because it is supposed to contain in the cavity of the granite rock the impression of his back, as he hid himself from the presence of God. Ilis visit to Sinai is apparently separated from that of the Children of Israel, who, according to the Bedouin story, occupied 1 At the same time it is impossible not to remark the much greater slow¬ ness with which foreign traditions strike root here than would be the case in Europe. Since Burckliardt’s time, tlm spring of Howara has been gene¬ rally assumed to be Marah. Had this spring been in England, Italy, or Greece, the place would long beforo this have received the name which travellers and guides are anxious to im¬ pose upon it. But here, in spite of the endeavours made by every party that passes to extract a confession of tho desired name, “ Howara ” it still is, and probably will remain. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 95 the whole forty years in vainly endeavoring to cross the platform of the Tih. If the Arab tradition fails in establishing par- 2. Greek ticular localities, so does also the Greek tradition tradltious- as preserved in the convent. How far in earlier times the monks were better guides than they are at present, it is difficult to determine. At present, and as far back as the modern race of travellers extends, there is probably no branch of the vast fraternity of ciceroni so unequal to their task as the twenty-one monks of the most interesting convent in the world. Exiles from the islands in the Greek Archipelago ; rebels against monastic rules at home ; lunatics sent for recovery ; none as a general rule remaining longer than two or three years ; with an im¬ perfect knowledge of Arabic, with no call upon then exertions and no check upon their ignorance, they know less about the localities which surround them than the humblest of the Bedouin serfs who wait upon their bounty. It may be said, perhaps, that for this very reason, they may have the more faithfully handed down the traditions of the first inhabitants of the convent. Yet, when we remember how many of these sites have evidently been selected for the sake of convenience rather than of truth, it is not easy to trust a tradition that has descended through such channels even for fifteen hundred years, unless it can render good its claim to be the offspring of another, which requires for its genuineness another fifteen hundred still. In order to bring it into the round of the daily sights, the cleft of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram, is transferred from Kadesli Barnea to the foot of Horeb. The peak of Gebel Mousa, now pointed out by them as the scene of the giving of the Law, fails to meet the most pressing requirements of the narrative. Bephidim has been always shown within an hour’s walk instead of a day’s march from the mountain. The monks in the last century confessed or rather boasted that they had themselves in¬ vented the footmark of Mahomet’s mule, in order to secure the devotion of the Bedouins. The cypress, surmounted by a cross, and cut into the shape of a serpent, in the court of the convent, in all probability was intended to 96 SINAI AND PALESTINE. traditions commemorate the really remote event of the erection of the Brazen Serpent.1 Tor, and even ’Akaba, were long shown as Elim.2 There are, however, some few traces of traditions extend- Early ing beyond the age of Justinian, or of Mahomet, which ought not to be disregarded. Josephus, here as elsewhere, refers throughout to sources of information not contained in the Old Testament, yet free from the gro¬ tesqueness and absurdity of the Rabbinical interpretations, of Eusebius Eusebius and Jerome also speak as if the nomen- and Jerome ; c}atnre 0f the Desert was in some instances known to them, either by tradition or conjecture. The selection of the sites of the two great convents of Feiran and St. Cath¬ erine, though it may have been dictated in part by the con¬ venience of the neighboring water and vegetation, yet must also have been in part influenced by a pre-existing belief in the sanctity of those spots. One point there is, — not, in¬ deed, in the Peninsula itself, but in connection with the route of the Israelites — in which the local tradition so remarkably coincides with every indication furnished by historical no¬ tices, and by the nature of the country, as not only to vindi¬ cate credibility for itself, but to lend some autho- ing Mount rity to the traditions of the Desert generally — the Hor “ Mountain of Aaron” in all probability, the “ Hor” of Aarons grave.4 The cycle of Mosaic names and tradi¬ tions, which seems most reasonably to point to a genuine Arab source, is that which relates to the Arab chief and Jethro, or ^as qe js caned from his other name “ Cho- » This observation I owe to the accu¬ rate drawing of the convent by my friend Mr. Herbert Herries. 2 Wellsted (ii., 13) says that “the traditions of the country assert Tor to be Elim, where Moses and his household encamped and “ that the Mohammedan pilgrims proceeding to or returning from Mecca give implicit credence to the tradition,” and “be¬ lieve the waters to be efficacious in removing cutaneous and other tropical disorders.” This shows the importance of an accurate distinction of the differ¬ ent classes of tradition. There is no doubt that the Mussulmans regard the wells as the Laths of Moses; but the question is, whether they regard them as Elim, or whether, as is probable, that is not a name given by the Greek con¬ vent, to which the palm-grove of Tdr be¬ longs. 3 At the same time the rash conjecture that Jerome makes about the second encampment by the Led Sea (Numb, xxxiii., 10) shows that he was quite un¬ acquainted with the details of the geo¬ graphy. He speaks of it as a great difficulty, and solves it by imagining that there was a bay running inland, or that a pool of water with reeds (?) may possibly have been the Leedy Sea. (Ep ad Eabiolam.) 4 See Part II. xvi. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 97 bab”) Shouaib. The most remarkable of these is the Wady Shouaib ; according to one version, the valley east of Gebel Mousa, in which the convent stands ; according to another, the ravine leading down into that valley from the Has Sasafeh. Probably the Wady Leja on the western side of the same range, and the Gebel Fureia above the plain Er-Raheh, point to the two daughters of Jethro,1 called in the Arabian legends Lija and Safuria (Zipporah). There is also the cave of Shouaib2 on the eastern shores of the Gulf of ’Akaba, a tradition the more remarkable as being by its situation removed from any connection with the Christian convents, and also being the very region which, in all probability, is the country described as Jethro’s Midian in the Pentateuch. 4 IV. Bearing these earliest traditions in mind, o ^ ' Route whenever they can be traced, it may still be possible, of the is- by the internal evidence of the country itself, to lay down, not indeed the actual route of the Israelites in every stage, but, in almost all cases, the main alternatives between which we must choose, and, in some cases, the very spots themselves. Hitherto no one traveller has traversed more than one, or at most two routes of the Desert; and thus the determination of these questions has been obscured, first, by the tendency of every one to make the Israelites follow his own track, and secondly, by his inability to institute a just comparison between the facilities or the difficulties which attend the routes which he has not seen. This obscurity will always exist till some competent traveller has explored the whole Peninsula. When this has been fairly done, there is little doubt that some of the most important topographical questions now at issue will be set at rest. Meanwhile, with the materials before us, it may be useful to give a summary of the points in dispute as they at present stand.3 1. Of all the events of the Israelite history, there is * See Weil’s Biblical Legends, p. 107. 2 Itinerary of Mecca Pilgrims in Wel- Bted’s ‘‘Arabia,” ii., 459. a In all that follows I have confined myself to the most conciso statement consistent with perspicuity. Tho map must bo in many cases its own in¬ terpreter. I must also refer to th.6 subsequent portion of this Chapter (Part II.) 98 SINAI AND PALESTINE. none which either from the magnificence of the crisis itself, or from its long train of associations, has greater 1. The pas- interest than the passage of the Red Sea. In ihfd sel UiC {}ie history of the Old Dispensation it took, not merely by type or prophecy, but actually, the same place as is occupied in the New Dispensation by the highest events of the Gospel History. It was the birth¬ day of the people and of the religion ; it was the deliv¬ erance from the bondage of Egypt, of Africa, of gigantic oppression and strange worship. It was a deliverance not by the force of man, but by the hand of God. It was the basis of that long succession of imagery, which through the sacred poetry of Israel has penetrated to all nations — the “ waves and storms of affliction,77 — in them the more remarkable as an inland people ; and thus afford¬ ing a testimony of enduring value to the deep impression left by the one great scene which ushered in their his¬ tory. The spray of the Red Sea is found, as it were, on the 'inmost hills of Palestine; and, from them, it has been wafted throughout the world. It was the greatest event which ancient history re¬ cords ; its effects are still felt. What then was its scene ? We cannot say here, as in the sacred events of the New Testament, that the narrative withdraws us from all local considerations. On the contrary, the local- ities, both on the march and before the passage, are described with a precision which indicates that at the time when the narrative was written, they were known with the utmost exactness.1 Unhappily, it is an exact¬ ness which to us now is only tantalising. It is for the most part only by conjecture that any places mentioned can be in any way identified. Still there are indications in the history, combined with a few vestiges of authentic tradition, and a few natural features, which may help us to approximation. The event has been extended, as already observed, by the Arab traditions down the whole Gulf of Suez, 1 Numb, xxxiii. 5 — 8. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 99 and even to the Gulf of ’Akaba.1 But it may, for all practical purposes, be confined to two quarters — the Wady Tuarik, opposite the Wells of Moses; or the neighbourhood of the Isthmus of Suez. In favour of the former locality, besides the usual Arab tradition, there is the statement of Josephus,2 that the start was made from Latopolis, which he identifies with the Egyptian Babylon, that is, Old Cairo. If they started from this city, standing almost at the entrance of the valley which opens on the southern point of passage, the great proba¬ bility is, that they would have followed that course throughout. This, perhaps, is the chief argument in favour of the theory of the southern passage. But the traditions of Josephus can hardly weigh against those of the Alexandrine translators, who make Rameses, the point of departure, to be in the north-east of the Delta in the neighbourhood of Heroopolis.3 From this point they marched a day’s journey to “ Succoth,” a halt which left an indelible trace in their subsequent institutions, as it was from the leafy booths in which they then, prob¬ ably for the last time, rested, that the Festival of the Tabernacles4 took its rise. These green coverts indicate that they were still on the pasture-land of the Delta. It was not till the next day’s encampment that they reached Etliam, “ in the edge of the wilderness.” Unless there¬ fore the limits of the wilderness, which on the southern route now reach up to the very gates of Cairo, have been completely altered, it is clear that this first part of the march, even irrespectively of the position of “Rameses,” must have been to the north of the head of the gulf — north, even of the present overland route to Cairo. At Etham their course changed. Instead of the route by Pelusium to “ the land of the Philistines,” they were 1 The best representation of the con¬ flicting theories is given in the map of Laborde’s Commentary on Exodus and Numbers. For the general scene, see Part II. ii. (2). 2 Josephus, Ant. II. xv. 1. * Compare Exod. xii. 37, — “they de¬ parted from Rameses,” — with Gen. xlvi. 28, — “ to Heroopolis in the land of Ra¬ meses ” (LXX). Sec also the almost conclusive arguments by which Lcpsius decides the identity of Abu-Kesheb wjtli Rameses. (Letters, p. 438. Bohn’s Ed.) 4 Numb, xxxiii. 6. See Appendix. 100 SINAI AND PALESTINE. here commanded to “turn” and encamp “before Pi-ha- hiroth, between Migdol and the sea, over against Baal- zephon.” I have said that this precise enumeration fails us, from our ignorance of almost every place named ; but the narrative itself in part supplies the defici¬ ency. First, we are expressly told that the agency by which the sea was dried up was “a strong east wind ” or, according to the Septuagint, “a strong south wind.” This compels us to select a portion of the sea where the depth is not too great to forbid the agency of wind ; and this is only at the northern end, where the shoals are, and must always have been, sufficient to render a shallower passage possible. And it may be added that the actual description accords with this, better than with the hypothesis which would lead the army through the more southern part of the gulf, where they would have passed not between “ walls,” but between “ mountains” of water, such as no faithful narrative could have failed to notice. Secondly, we are told that the host, to the number of 600,000 armed men, passed over within the limits of a single night. If so, the passage must have occurred in the narrower end of the gulf, and not in the wide interval of eight or ten miles between the Wady Tawarik and the Wells of Moses.1 Indeedf-dt should be remembered that the notion of the Israelites crossing the Fed Sea at its broader part is comparatively modern. By earlier Christian commentators, and by almost all the Rabbinical writers who selected the wider road as the scene of the event, the passage was explained to be not a transit — which, as Chytrmus of Rostock calculated, would have required at least three days — but a short circuit , returning again to the Egyptian shore, and then pursuing their way round the head of the gulf. Such 1 This is the width according to the survey of the Ked Sea by Commander Moresby and Lieutenant Careless. A remarkable instance of the effect of wind even on deep water occurs constantly in the Fritzsler Hof on the shores of the Baltic between Memel and Konigsberg. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 101 an interpretation, faithfully represented on the old maps, and defended at great length by Quaresmius,1 is worth preserving, as a curious instance of the sacrifice of the whole moral grandeur of a miracle, to which men are often (and in this case necessarily) driven by a mistaken desire of exaggerating its physical magnitude. These reasons oblige us to look for the scene of the passage at the northern end of the gulf; whether at the present fords of Suez, or at some point higher up the gulf, which then probably extended at least as far as the Bitter Lakes, depends on arguments which have not yet been thoroughly explored. On the one hand, the exclamation of Pharaoh “They are entangled in the land ; the wil¬ derness hath shut them in,” is best explained by the sup¬ position that they were hemmed in on the south by mountains ; and this was the view of Josephus, who re¬ peatedly speaks of the “precipitous mountain descend¬ ing on the sea.” This could be no other than the Jebel Atakah, which borders the north-west side of the gulf, and which terminates the mountain range. Farther north, there are no eminences higher than sand-hills. The subsequent route also agrees best with the passage at Suez. On the other hand, the previous route will best agree with some spot nearer to “ the edge ” of the cultivated land, that is, farther north ; and the names, so far as they can be traced, point in the same direction. 11 Pi-hahiroth 2 ” is probably an Egyptian word — “the grassy places ” — and, if so, can only be sought north¬ wards, not in the naked desert either of ;Ajrud, where it has been sometimes found, or of the Wady Tuarik. “ Migdol ” may indeed be only the “watch-tower” of the fords; but it may also be the ancient “ Magdo- lum,” twelve miles south of Pelusium, and undoubt- 1 Elucidatio Terrae Sanctae, ii. 965, &c. 2 Exod. xiv. 2, 9. Numb, xxxiii. 7, 8. “Pi-hahiroth” may be either — (1) in Hebrew, “ mouth of caverns,” as in the Vatican MS. of the LXX, Numb, xxxiii. 7, ro droua EipcoO ; or much more probably, (2) in Egyptian, “ the grassy places,” — “Pi” being the Egyptian article ; as in Alex. MS. of the LXX, EftCXvAsiS. 102 SINAI AND PALESTINE. edly described, as “ Migdol 77 by Jeremiah and Eze¬ kiel.1 2 Meanwhile, we must be content with the general scene placed before ns on that memorable night — the Paschal moon, the darkness, the storm ; — “ The waters saw thee, 0 Clod, the waters saw thee ; . . . the depths also were troubled. The clouds poured out water : the skies sent out a sound : . . . the voice of thy thunder was in the heaven : the lightnings lightened the world : the earth trembled and shook,77 — and then rest satisfied in the conclusion of the Psalmist (in this local question, as in so much of which it is the likeness), “ Thy way is in th e sea, and thy path in the great waters, and thy footsteps are not hnown .772 2. Marah 2. There can be no dispute as to the general track of the Israelites after the passage. If they were to enter the mountains at all they must con¬ tinue in the route of all travellers, between the sea and the table-land of the Till, till they entered the low hills of Grhurundel. Marah must either be Howara3 or Grhurundel. Elim must be Grhurundel, Useit, or Tavibeh.4 %y 3. Encamp- 3. The ‘‘encampment by the Red Sea 77 (Num- ment by the . ... ^ x . S . . . , \ ited sea. bers xxxui. 10) must almost certainly be at the descent of the Wady Tayibeh on the sea, or in some portion of the plain of Murka, before they again turned up into the mountains ; the cliffs forbidding any continuous line of march along the shore between the Wady Ghurundcl and the Wady Tayibeh. It is indeed just possible that, like Pococke and Bart¬ lett, they may have descended to the mouth of the 1 Jer. xliv. 1 ; xlvi 14. Ezck. xxix. 10; xxx. 6. It may be hoped that in the investigation connected with the pro¬ ject of the Suez Canal some light may be thrown on this interesting question. 2 Psalm lxxvii. 16 — 19. 3 Dr. Granl, however, was told that Tuweiled (the well-known Sheyk of the Towara tribe, knew of a spring near Tih el ’Amura, right ( i . e. south) of Howara, so bitter that neither men nor camels could drink of it. From hence the road goes straight to Wady Ghurnndel. (Vol. ii p. 254.) 4 Sec Part XL, p. 134. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 10 o O Wady Ghurundel, by the warm springs “of Pharaoh”), and then returned to the Wady Useit. Such a detour is not likely : yet it must he borne in mind as possible. For if the encampment by the Red Sea” was at the mouth of the Wady Ghurundel, it must have been before the bifurcation of the two routes to Gebel Mousa — that namely to the north by Sarbut-El-Kedem, and that to the south by Wady Tayibeh — and would thus open the alternative of their having gone by the former of these two roads, and so avoided altogether the Wady Feiran. This is a material point in favour of all views which exclude Mount Serbal from the history. If, on the other hand, they proceeded, as travellers usually do, by Ghurundel, Useit, and Tayibeh (and if Tayibeh or Useit be Elim, they must have done so), and thus descended on the sea, here two other alternatives open upon us. 4. For when arrived at this plain of Murka they may have gone, according to the route of the older travellers, — Shaw, Pococke, and the Prefect of the Franciscan Convent, — to Tor, and thence by the Wady Hebran, and the Nakb ITowy, to Gebel Mousa ; or they may have gone, ac- 4. Wilder¬ ness of Sin. cording to the route of all recent travellers, by the Wady Shellal, the Nakb Badera, and the W adys Mokatteb, Feiran, and Es-Sheyk, to the same point. The former route is im¬ probable, both because of its detour, and also because the Wady ITebran is said to be, and the Nakb ITowy certainly is, as difficult, if not more difficult, than any pass on the route of the Wady Feiran. If it might seem to be in its favour that it was the habitual route of the early travellers, before the newly-awakened 'love of scenery had induced any one to visit the Wady Feiran, yet it must be remem¬ bered that all early travellers went and returned from Cairo to Sinai, and consequently took one route on their egress and the other on their regress. Still it must be borne in mind as a possible alternative. 5. Of the three routes just mentioned, which we b eh eTn may call the northern, the central, and the southern, Cebel Mousa the northern and the southern combine in this result, that they omit Mount Serbal, and necessarily take the Israelites to Gebel Mousa, or at least some mountain in 104 SINAI AND PALESTINE. the eastern extremity of the peninsula. But the central route, after leaving the plain of Murka, mounts by the successive stages of the Wady Shellal, the Nakb Badera, and the Wady Mokatteb, to the Wady Feiran and its great mountain, Serbal, the pride of this cluster. If, as is most probable for the reasons just assigned, the Israelites took this road, the question is at once opened whether Serbal be the Sinai of the Exodus ? If it be, then we are here arrived at the end of their journey. If, on the other hand, the Israelites could be shown to have taken the northern or the southern road, or if there are insuperable objections to the identification of Serbal with Sinai, the end is to be sought where it has usually been found, in the cluster of Gebel Mousa. Between these two clusters the question must lie.1 Each has its natural recommendations, which will best appear on proceeding. The claims of tradition are very nearly equal. Gebel Mousa is now the only one which puts forward any pretensions to be considered as the place, and is indeed the only region of the Sinaitic mountains where any traditions can be said to linger. They are certainly as old as the 6th century : and they probably reach back still further. On the other hand, though Serbal has in later times lost its historical name, in earlier ages it enjoyed a larger support of tradition than Gebel Mousa. This, at least, is the natural inference from the Sinaitic inscriptions, which, of whatever date, must be prior to the age of Justinian, founder of the Convent of St. Catherine ; and which are found at the very top of the mountain and the ruined edifice on its central summit. This too is the impression conveyed by the existence of the episcopal city of Paran, at its foot, which also existed prior to the foundations of Justinian. And the description of Horeb by Josephus2 as a mountain, 1 Till Um-Shomer has been tho¬ roughly explored it would be rash to discard entirely the highest point of the peninsula. It was ascended by Burckhardt to within 200 feet of the summit, which is white. The plain of El-Ka’a is immediately below. There is a spring and fig-trees, the ruins of a convent (Deir Antous), and there are strange stories of sounds like thunder. (Burckhardt, 580 — 588.) These points agree to a certain extent with the scriptural indications of Sinai, yet it is so far removed from any con¬ ceivable track of the Israelites as to render its claims highly improbable. 3 Jos. Ant. II., xiL I. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 105 a u the highest of the region/’ “ with good grass growing round it/’ is more like the impression that is produced on a traveller by Serbal than that derived from any other mountain usually seen in the range. It was undoubtedly identified with Sinai by Eusebius, Jerome, and Cosmas ; that is, by all known writers till the tin e of Justinian. Ruppell also asserts that the summit of Serbal was regarded by the Bedouins who accompanied him, as a sacred place, to which at certain times they brought sacrifices.1 There remains the question, whether there is any solution of the rival claims of Serbal and Gebel Mousa, which can give to each a place in the sacred history. Such an attempt has been made by Bitter, who, with his usual union of diffidence and learning, suggests the possibility that Serbal may have been “ the Mount of God,”2 the sanctuary of the heathen tribes of the Desert, — already sacred before Israel came, and that to which Pharaoh would understand that they were going their long journey into the Wilderness for sacrifice. It may then have been the Wady Feiran that witnessed the battle of Rephidim,3 the building of the Altar on the hill, and the visit of Jethro, and after this long pause, in 66 the third month,” they may again have moved forward to 66 Sinai,” the cluster of Gebel Mousa. There are two points gained by any such solution ; first, that Sinai may then be identified with Gebel Mousa, without the difficulty, otherwise considerable, that the narrative brings the Israelites through the two most striking features of the Desert — Wady Feiran and Serbal — without any notice of the fact ; and, secondly that it gives a scene, at least in some respects well-suited, for the encampment at Rephi¬ dim, the most remarkable which occurred before the final 1 For the comparison of all these arguments in favor of Serbal, see Lepsius’ Letters (Bohn), pp. 310 — 321, 556 — 562. I have been unwilling to enter into more detail than was necessary to give a general view of the question at issue. See Part IT., vii. a Exodus iii. 1.; iv. 21. ? Bitter, Sinai, pp. 128 — 144. . If Feiran be Rephidim, one serious diffi¬ culty arises from the abundance of water in a spot where Israel is de¬ scribed as wanting water. But this applies even more to any spot in the neighborhood of Gebel Mousa. Graul (vol. ii., 256) suggests that the brook of Feiran may (by a fallen rock) have been subsequently diverted into its present course ; or, that it may have been dry, as it was when bo saw it (March 9th, 1853). 106 SINAI AND PALESTINE. one in front of Sinai itself. How far the narrative itseif * contains sufficient grounds for such a distinction between the two mountains is, in our present state of knowledge, very uncertain. If “ Iloreb ” be taken for the generic name of the whole range, and not necessarily as identical with Sinai, then there is only one passage left (Exod. xxiv. 13, 16) in which, in the present text, “the Mount of God” is identified with “ Sinai ;” and even if Horeb be identified with Sinai, yet the variations of the Septuagint on this point show how easily the title of one mountain might be assumed into the text as the title of the other after the distinction between the two had been forgotten. In Exod. iii. 1, where “the Mountain of God” occurs in the present Hebrew text, it is omitted in the LXX. (though not in the Alexandrian MS. ;) as in Exod. xix. 3, where it occurs in the LXX., it is omitted by the Hebrew text. This would agree well with the slight topographical details of the battle. In every passage where Sinai, and Horeb, and the Mount of God, and Mount Paran are spoken of, the Hebrew word “ Ilor ” for “mountain” is invariably1 used. But in Exod. xvii. 9, 10, in the account of the battle of Rephidim, the word used is “ Gibeah,” rightly translated “hill.” Every one who has seen the valley of Feiran will at once recognise the propriety of the term, if applied to the rocky eminence which commands the palm-grove, and on which, in early Christian times, stood the church and palace of the Bishops of Paran. Thus if we can attach any credence to the oldest known tradition of the Peninsula, that Rephidim is the same as Paran, then Rephidim, “ the resting-place,” is the natural name for the paradise of the Bedouins in the adjacent palm-grove ; then the hill of the Church of Paran may fairly be imagined to be “ the hill ” on which Moses stood, deriving its earliest consecration from the altar which he built ; the Amale- kites may thus have naturally fought for the oasis of the Desert, and the sanctuary of their gods ; and Jethro may well have found his kinsmen encamping after their long journey, amongst the palms “ before the ; In Ex. xxiv. 4, is the same word, though mistranslated “hill.” Seo Appendix, mb voct MAP OF TRADITIONAL SINAI . cs3&ble.:fand -tiiiili vaster 'TAX Cornels V i llufaaroh SJaw f MOULD 10 OR GRAVEL VEGETATION GREY GRANITE RED GRANITE JEBEL MUSA . 1. CONVENT OF S-KATHE^T 2. MA'YAN EL-JEBEL.ISPR’INC 3. CHAPEL OF THE VIRGIN OF THE IKONOMOS. \ 4. CHAPELS OF ELIJAH A A WELL & CYPRESS TREE. 5. CHAPEL ON SUMMIT OF 6. CHAPEL OF S.JOHN THl 7. CHAPEL OF THE VIRGIN 0 8. RAS ES-SUFSAFEH 9. CHAPEL OF S. A NNET. 10. CHAPEL OF S. PANTELEIM JEBEL ED-DEIR . \\. CROSS ON SUMMIT. 1 12 .SPRINCOF MAGAREFEH ] AND RUINS OF CONVENT. JEBEL KATHERTN. 13. RUDE CHAPEL ON SUMMIT. 14. MA'YAN ESH-SHUNNAR,IFOUNTAINI IS.SHUK MUSA 'CLEFT OF MOSES' N.BASE OFHOREB. 16 .EL-BOSTAN 'THE GARDEN' \7.WADY PARAH 18 -WADY SUFSAFEH SCALE- TWO MILES TO AN INCH : PENINSULA OF SINAI. 107 Mount of God,” and acknowledged that the Lord was greater even than all the gods who had from ancient days been thought to dwell on the lofty peaks which over¬ hung their encampment. And then the ground is clear for the second start, described in the following chapter. “ They ‘ departed ’ from Rephidim, and came to the Desert of Sinai, and ‘ pitched ’ in the Wilderness ; and there Israel encamped before the Mount.”1 If the Wady Feiran, from its palm-grove and its brook, be marked out as the first long halting-place of Israel, the high valleys of Gebel Mousa with their abundant springs no less mark out the second. The great thorough¬ fare of the Desert, the longest, and widest, and most com tinuous of all the valleys, the Wady Es-Sheykh, would lead the great hulk of the host, with the flocks and herds, by the more accessible though more circuitous route into the central upland ; whilst the chiefs of the people would mount directly to the same point by the Nakb llowy, and all would meet in the Wady Er-Rhheh, the “ enclosed plain ” in front of the magnificent cliffs of the RAs Sasafeh. It is possible that the end of the range Furei’a, to which the Arab guides give the name of Sma, may have a better claim than the Has Sasafeh, from the fact that it commands both the Wady Er-Raheh and the Wady Es-Sheykh ; and that alone of those peaks it appears to retain a vestige of the name of Sinai. It is said to contain a level platform with trees,2 and undoubtedly any future traveller will do well to explore it. But no one who has approached the Has Sasafeh through that noble plain, or who has looked down upon the plain from that majestic height, will willingly part with the belief that these are the two essential features of the view of the Israelite camp.3 That such a plain should exist at all in front of such a cliff is so remarkable a coincidence with the sacred narrative, as to furnish a strong internal argument, not merely of its identity with the scene, • Exod. xix. 2. 2 See Palmer’s Map of Arabia and Syria. ' * Hitter (Sinai, 590 — 598) argues for the Wady Seb’&yeh, at the back of Gobel Mousa. As this is a matter of detail, I liavo thought it best to reserve the ar¬ gument to bo stated according to my own impressions on the spot. See Pa. t IP, p. 141. 108 SINAI AND PALESTINE. but of the scene itself having been described by an eve* witness. The awful and lengthened approach, as to some natural sanctuary, would have been the fittest preparation for the coming scene. The low line of alluvial mounds at the foot of the cliff exactly answer to the “ bounds ” which were to keep the people off from 6C touching the Mount.” The plain itself is not broken and uneven and narrowly shut in, like almost all others in the range, but presents a long retiring sweep, against which the people could u remove and stand afar off.” The cliff, rising like a huge altar, in front of the whole congre¬ gation, and visible against the sky in lonely grandeur from end to end of the whole plain, is the very image of “ the mount that might be touched,” and from which the voice of God might be heard far and wide over the stillness of the plain below, widened at that point to its utmost extent by the confluence of all the contiguous valleys. Here, beyond all other parts of the Peninsula, is the adytum, withdrawn as if in the u end of the world,” from all the stir and confusion of earthly things.1 And as in the Wady Feiran “ the hill” of Paran may be taken as fixing with some degree of probability the scene of Rephidim, so there are some details of the plain of Er-Raheh which remarkably coincide with the scene of the worship of the Golden Calf, evidently the same as that of the encampment at the time of the Delivery of the Law. In this instance the traditional locality is happily chosen. A small eminence at the entrance of the convent valley is marked by the name of Aaron, as being that from which Aaron surveyed the festival on the wide plain below. This tradition, if followed out, would of necessity require the encampment to be in the Wady Er-Raheh, as every other circumstance renders probable. But there are two other points which meet here, and nowhere else. First, Moses is described as descending the mountain without seeing the people; the shout strikes the ear of his companion before they ascertain the cause ; the view bursts upon him suddenly as he draws nigh to the camp, and he throws 1 ‘‘ If I were to make a model of the valley of the convent of Mount Sinai.’ end of the world, it would be from the — Henniker, p. 225. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 10!i down the tables and dashes them in pieces 66 beneath the mount.”1 Such a combination might occur in the Wady Er-Raheh. Any one coming down from one of the secluded basins behind the Ras Sasafeh, through the oblique gullies which flank it on the north and south, would hear the sounds borne through the silence from the plain, but would not see the plain itself till he emerged from the Wady El-Deir or the Wady Leja ; and when he did so, he would be immediately under the precipitous cliff of Sasafeh. Further, we are told that Moses strewed the powder of the fragments of the idol on the “ waters ”2 of the 66 brook that came down out of the mount.” This would be perfectly possibly in the Wady Er-Raheh, into which issues the brook of the Wady Leja, descending, it is true, from Mount St. Catherine, but still in sufficiently close connection with the Gebel Mousa to justify the expression, 66 coming down out of the mount.” These two coincidences, which must be taken for what they are worth, would not occur either at Serbal or in the Wady Sebayeh. In the case of the former, although there is the brook from the Wady Aleyat, which would probably meet the description, there is no corresponding contiguity of the encampment. In the case of the latter, both are wanting. 6. It is hardly necessary, after what has been localities of said, to examine minutely the special traditional the history. iocajq^eg 0f (}e]3ei Mousa. How little could have been the desire of finding a place which should realise the general impressions of the scene ; how the great event which has made Sinai famous was forgotten in the search after traces of special incidents, of which there could be no me¬ morial, and in the discovery of which there could be no real instruction, is sufficiently apparent from the fact that, amongst all the pilgrims who visited Mount Sinai fer so many centuries, hardly one noticed, and not one paid any attention to the great plain of Er-Raheh. And yet it is the very fea¬ ture which since the time that it was (we may almost say) first discovered by Lord Lindsay and Dr. Robinson, must strike any thoughtful observer as the point in the whole range the most illustrative of Israelite history. There is, 1 Exod. xxxii. 15 — 19. 2 Exod. xxxii. 20 • Deut. ix. 21. 110 SINAI AND PALESTINE. however, one general remark that applies to almost all the lesser localities. If, on the one hand, the general features of the Desert, and of the plain beneath the lias Sasafeh in particular, accord with the authentic history of Israel, there is little doubt on the other, that the physical peculiar¬ ities of the district have suggested most of the legendary scenes which subsequent tradition has fastened on that his¬ tory. Where almost every rock is a 66 lusus naturae,” it is not surprising that men, like the Greek monks or the Be¬ douin Arabs, as keen in their search for special traces of the history as they were indifferent to its impression as a whole, should have seen marks of it everywhere. The older tra¬ vellers, the Prefect of the Franciscan Convent, Fococke, Shaw, and others, all notice what they call Den- ^ drite-stones, — i. e. stones with fossil trees marked upon them. It is curious that these have never been ob¬ served in later times. But in the early ages they seem to have been regarded as amongst the great wonders of the mountain ; they were often supposed to be the memorials of the Burning Bush.1 The mark of the back of Thebackof Moses on the summit of the mountain, which bears Mose8, his name, has been already mentioned. Still more evident is the mark of the body of St. Catherine on the summit of Gebel Katherin. The rock of the high- st!SJf est part of that mountain swells into the form of a human body, its arms swathed like that of a mummy, but headless f the counterpart, as it is alleged, of the corpse of the beheaded Egyptian saint. It is difficult to trace the earliest form of the legend, now so familiar through pictorial art, of the transference of the Alexandrian martyr by angelic hands to the summit of Mount Sinai, — a legend which, in the convent to which the relics are thence said to have been carried down, almost ranks on an equality with the history of the Burning Bush and of tho Giving of the Law. But not improbably this grotesque figure on the rock furnishes not merely the illustration, but the origin of the story A third well-known instance 1 Soo Sehcuchzor’s Physique Sacreo, vol. ii., p. 2G. a It is well described by Monconys, p. 4.41. Fazakorley was told that the rock had swelled into this form on tho arrival of tho body. (Walpole, ii 374.) 3 Falconius (see Butler’s Lives of tho PENINSULA OF SINAI. 11 i The Cow’s of the kind is what in earlier times was called the head — at present the mould of the head1— of the molten calf, just as the rock of St. Catherine is sometimes called the body itself ; sometimes (to accommodate it to the story of the transference of the relics to the convent), the place on which the body rested. It is a natural cavity, in a juncture of one or two stones, possibly adapted in some slight measure by art, representing rudely the round head, with two horns spreading out of it, A fourth, is one Muie of the ^ie many curious fissures and holes in the weath¬ er-beaten rocks near the summit of Gebel Mousa, pointed out as the footmark of the mule or dromedary of Mahomet. It is true that the monks themselves, in the seventeenth century, declared to the Prefect of the Francis¬ can Convent that this mark had been made by themselves, to secure the protection of the Bedouin tribes. But it has more the appearance of a natural hollow, and it is more probable that they were unwilling to let the Prefect imagine that such a phenomenon should be accidental, than that they The sun- actually invented it. Another (which has not found Slur Ifi ng its way into books), is the legend in the convent Bush* (as represented in an ancient picture of the tradi¬ tional localities) of the sunbeam, which on one day in the year darts into the Chapel of the Burning Bush from the Grebel-ed-Deir.2 It is only by ascending the mountain that the origin of the legend appears. Behind the topmost clilfs, a narrow cleft admits of a view, of the only view, into the convent buildings, which lie far below, but precisely com¬ manded by it, and therefore necessarily lit up by the ray, which once in the year darts through that especial crevice. The rock But the most famous of all these relics is the Rock Moses. 0p ]\poses> Every traveller has described, with more or less accuracy, the detached mass,8 from 10 to 15 feet high as it stands, — in the wild valley of the Leja, under the ridge Saints, Nov. 25) expressly asserts his belief that the wholo story of the miraculous transportation of the body by angels was merely a legendary repre¬ sentation of the “ translation of the relics” from Alexandria to Sinai in the eighth century by the monks. It is thus a curious eastern counterpart of the angelic flight of the IIouso of Loretto. 1 To Burckhardt it was shown as tho head of tho calf (p. 533). Ho notices tho fact, that tho Arab guides called it, as now, lias Bukhara, tho head of the com. 2 See Burckhardt, p. 579. 3 See Part II., p. 143. 112 SINAI AND PALESTINE. of the Has Sasafeh, — slightly leaning forwards, a rude seam or scoop running over each side, intersected by wide slits or cracks, which might, by omitting or including those of less distinctness, be enlarged or diminished to any number be¬ tween ten and twenty ; perhaps ten on each side would be the most correct account ; and the stone between each of those cracks worn away as if by the dropping of water from the crack immediately above. Unlike as this isolated fragment is to the image usually formed of “ the rock in Iloreb,” and incompatible as its situation is with any tenable theory of the event with which it professes to be con¬ nected, yet to uncultivated minds, regardless of general truth, and eager for minute coincidence, it was most natu¬ ral that this rock should have suggested the miracle of Moses. There is every reason accordingly to believe that this is the oldest legendary locality in the district. It is probable that it was known even in the time of Josephus, who speaks of the rock as “ lying beside them” — naQatceifievfiv 1 — an expression naturally applicable to a fragment like this, but hardly to a cliff in the mountain. The situation and form of this stone would also have accommodated itself to the strange llabbinical belief that the “ rock followed ”2 them through the wilderness ; a belief, groundless enough under any circumstances, but more natural if any Jewish pilgrims had seen or heard of this detached mass by the mountain side. It next appears, or rather, perhaps, we should say, its first unquestionable appearance, is in the reference made more than once in the Koran3 to the rock with the twelve mouths for the twelve tribes of Israel, evidently alluding to the -curious cracks in the stone, as now seen. These allusions probably increased, if they did not originate, the reverence of the Bedouins, who, at least down to the present generation of travellers, are described as muttering their prayers before it, and thrusting grass into the supposed mouths of the stone. From the middle ages onwards, it has always been shown to Christian pilgrims ; and the rude crosses on the sides, as well as the traces of stone i Ant. III., i. 7 ’ See Notes on 1 Cor. x. 4. 3 Koran, li. 57 ; vii. 160. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 113 chipped away, indicate the long reverence in which it has been held. In more modern times it has leen used to serve the two opposite purposes, of demonstrating on the one hand the truth of the Mosaic history, and on the other hand the lying practices of the monastic system. Bishop Clayton triumphantly quotes it as a voice from the Desert, providentially preserved to put the infidels of the eighteenth century to shame. Sir Gard¬ ner Wilkinson as positively brings it forward to prove the deceptions practised by the Greek Church to secure the respect of the Arabs and the visits of pilgrims. It is one of the many instances in which both arguments are equally wrong. It is evidently, like the other examples given above, a trick of nature, which has originated a le¬ gend, and, through the legend, a sacred locality. Probably less would have been said of it, had more travellers ob¬ served what Sir Frederick Henniker1 alone has expressly noticed, namely, the fragment which lies in the same valley, less conspicuous, but with precisely similar marks. But, taking it merely for what it is, of all the lesser objects of interest in Sinai, the rock of Moses is the most remark¬ able ; clothed with the longest train of associations, allied in thought, though not in fact, to the image which, of all others in the Exodus, has, perhaps, been most frequently repeated in the devotions of Jewish and Christian worship; of all the objects in the Desert most bound up with the sim¬ ple faith of its wild inhabitants and of its early visitants. Y. It has been said, that the history of the Pe- tory of the ninsula is confined to the history of the Exodus, leumsuu. Yet we must not forget that it is the oldest of the “ Holy Places,” and accordingly, the halo of that first glory has rested upon it long after the events themselves had ceased. There are, as has been already intimated, traces of a sanctity even anterior to the passage of the Israelites, — - a “ Mount of God,” honoured by the Amalekite Arabs, and known at the Egyptian Court; a belief, as Josephus tells us, 1 Ilenniker’s Notes, pp. 233, 242. This fragment we saw in 1853. Po- cocke (L, 147) had heard of a similar stone, sixteen miles to the north-west. Possibly this might bo the “ Seat of Moses,” described by Laborde, in the Bueib (“ little gate”) or Pass of the Wad_y Es Sheykh. 114 SINAI AND PALESTINE. that a Divine presence dwelt in those awful cliffs — on that long ascent, deemed unapproachable by human footsteps ; the rich pastures round the mountain foot avoided even by the wandering shepherds.1 But this reverence, whatever it was, or to whichever point it might be more especially attached, must have been thrown into the shade from the moment that it was announced that the ground on which Moses stood was “ holy ground,” — still more from the day when the Law was given, in “ fire, and blackness, and tempest.” Yet, as it has been well observed,2 3 so high already did the Religion which was there first proclaimed tower above any local bonds, that throughout the whole subsequent history of Judaism there is but one known instance of a visit to this its earliest birthplace. The whole tenor of the historical and prophetical Scriptures is to withdraw the mind from the Desert to Palestine — from Sinai to Zion. 66 Why leap ye so, ye high c mountains ?’ This (Jerusalem) is the ‘ mountain which God desireth to dwell in. . . . The Lord is among them, as in Sinai, in the holy place.”3 66 God came from Teman, and the Holy One from Mount Paran.”4 The sanctuary of Horeb was not living but dead and deserted. One visi- lm Eiijama tant, however, there was to this wild region — it visit* may be, as the only one known, out of many unknown pil¬ grims, but, more probably, an exception proving the rule — -driven here only by the extraordinary circumstances of his time, and by his own character and mission, the great prophet Elijah. The scene of the address to Elijah is now localized in the secluded plain immediately below the highest point of Gebel Mousa, marked by the broker, chapel, and by the solitary cypress. There, or at Serbal, may equally be found 66 the cave,”5 the only indication by which the sacred narrative identifies the spot. There, 1 Ant. III., v. 1; II., xii. 1. 2 Quart. Rev. No. cxxxvii. p. 156. 3 Psalm lxviii. 16, 11. 4 Hab. iii. 3. 6 1 Kings xix. 9 — 13. Ewald, in the expression “ the cave,” ver. 9 (the article is not in the English version), Bees the indication of its being a cavern, well known for the recep¬ tion of pilgrims. The expression cer¬ tainly seems to indicate a special locality of some kind. If Serbal were either Sinai or “Iloreb the Mount of God,” there is a cave — or rather cavity — much talked of by the Bedouin Sheyk of the mountain as the cave (the “ Meg dr a1'1) to which travellers are taken — formed by the overhang¬ ing rock of the summit. See Part II., vii. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 115 or at Serbal, equally may have passed before him the vision in which the wind rent the granite mountains, and broke in pieces the “ cliffs,”1 followed as at the time of Moses, by the earthquake and the fire, and then, in the si¬ lence of the desert air, by the “ still small voice.” 2. visit of We hear of Sinai no more till the Christian era. aits flf0 'I'd'. In the local touches that occur from time to time sephus. jn Josephus, the question rises, whether he, or those from whom he received his information, had really passed through the Desert. The “ mountain” of which he speaks emphatically on the shores of the Red Sea can be no other than the Gebel 'Attaka; the “rock lying beside” Mount Sinai is probably the stone of Moses ; and although it may be dif¬ ficult in “ the highest mountain of the range, so high as not to be visible without straining of the sight,”2 to recognise any peak of Sinai, yet the exaggeration is precisely similar to that in which he indulges in speaking of the precipices, which he had himself seen, about J erusalem. There is ano¬ ther traveller through Arabia at this time, on whose visit to Mount Sinai we should look with still greater interest. 3. Allusions “ 1 went into Arabia,” says St. Paul,3 in describing of st. raui. p-g conversion to the Galatians. It is useless to speculate, yet when, in a later chapter4 of the same Epistle, the words fall upon our ears, “ This Hagar is Mount Sinai in Arabia,” it is difficult to resist the thought that he, too, may have stood upon the rocks of Sinai, and heard from Arab lips the often repeated “ Hagar,”— “ rock,” — suggest¬ ing the double meaning to which that text alludes. If the sanctity of Sinai was forgotten under the Jewish Dispensation, still more likely was it to be set aside under the Christian, where not merely its contrast, but its infe¬ riority, was the constant burden of all the allusions to it— “ the mount that gendereth to bondage,” “ the mount that might be touched.”5 But what its own associations could not win for it, its desert solitudes did. From the neighbouring shores of Egypt — the parent land of monasticism — the anchorites and coenobites were drawn 1 Ver. 11. Tho word ia “ Sola,” not t: Tzur seo p. IG2,and Appendix. Ant. III., v. 1. 3 Gal. i. 17. 4 Gal. iv. 24, 25. * Uob. xii. 18. 116 SINAI AND PALESTINE. by the sight of these wild mountains across the Red Sea ; and beside the palm-groves of Feiran, and the springs of Gebel Mousa, were gathered a host of cells and 4. Christian convents. The whole range must have been then to hermitases- the Greek church what Athos is now. No less than six thousand monks or hermits congregated round Gebel Mousa and Paran must almost have deserved the name of a city at the time when it was frequented by the Arabian pilgrims, who wrote their names on the sandstone rocks of the Wady Mokatteb and the granite blocks of Serbal. Pro¬ bably, the tide of Syrian and Byzantine pilgrims chiefly turned to Gebel Mousa ; the African and Alexandrian, to the nearer sanctuary at Feiran. Of all these memorials of ancient devotion, the great convent of the Transfigura¬ tion, or, as it was afterwards called, of St. Catlie- . ' . tji i i Convent of rme, alone remains. It has been described by st. cathe * • • ^ rinc, every traveller, and with the utmost detail by Burckhardt and by Robinson. But it is so singular of its kind, that a short summary of its aspect and recollections is essential to any account of the Peninsula of Sinai. Those who have seen the Grande Chartreuse in the Alps of Dauphiny, know the shock produced by the sight of i hat vast edifice in the midst of its mountain desert — the Ion q irregular pile, of the Parisian architecture of the fifteenth century, the one habitation of the upland wilder- ne? i of which it is the centre. It is this feeling, raised to its lighest pitch, which is roused on finding in the heart of the Desert of Sinai the stately Convent of St. Catherine, wit ii its massive walls, its gorgeous church hung with ban- nej s, its galleries of chapels, of cells, and of guest-chambers, its library of precious manuscripts, the sound of its rude cymbals calling to prayer, and changed by the echoes into music as it rolls through the desert valley, the double standard of the Lamb and Cross floating high upon its topmost towers.3 And this contrast is height¬ ened still more by the fact, that, unlike most monastic retreats, its inhabitants and its associations are not 1 Burckhardt, 546. 3 See Note, p. 122. Part of it is built on tne slope of Gebel Mousa, to avoid blocking up the narrow valley, and so preventing the rush of the torrents. (Wellsted, ii. 87.) PENINSULA OF SINAI. 117 indigenous, but wholly foreign, to the soil wheie they have struck root. The monks of the Grande Chartreuse, however secluded from the world, are still Frenchmen ; the monks of Subiaco are still Italians. But the monks of Sinai are not Arabs, but Greeks. There in the midst of the Desert, the very focus of the pure Se¬ mitic race, the traveller hears once again the accents of the Greek tongue ; meets the natives of Thessalonica and of Samos ; sees in the gardens the produce, not of the Desert or of Egypt, but of the isles of Greece ; not the tamarisk, or the palm, or the acacia, but the olive, the almond tree, the apple tree, the poplar, and the cypress of Attica and Corcyra. And as their present state so also their past origin, is alike strange to its local habitation. No Arab or Egyptian or Syrian patriarch erected that massive pile ; no pilgrim princess, no ascetic King : a Byzantine Emperor, the most worldly of his race, the great legislator Justinian, was its founder. The fame of his architectural magnificence, which has left its monuments in the most splendid churches of Constantinople and Ravenna, had penetrated even to the hermits of Mount Sinai ; and they, “ when they heard that he delighted to build churches and found convents, made a journey to him, and complained how the wandering sons of Ishmael were wont to attack them suddenly, eat up their provisions, desolate the place, enter the cells, and carry off everything — how they also broke into the church and devoured even the holy wafers.”1 To build for them as they desired a convent which should be to them for a stronghold, was a union of policy and religion which exactly suited the sagacious Emperor. Petra was just lost, and there was now no point of defence against the Arabian tribes, on the whole route between Jerusalem and Memphis. Such a point might be furnished by the proposed fortress of Sinai ; and as the old Pharaonic and even Ptolemaic kings of Egypt had defended their frontier against the tribes of the Desert by fortified temples,2 so the Byzantine Emperor determined 1 Eutychii Annales, tom. ii. p. 190; Robinson, Biblical Researches, i. p. 556. 3 See Sharpo’s History of# Egypt, p. 565. 118 SINAI AND PALESTINE. to secure a safe transit through the Desert by a fortified convent. A tower ascribed to Helena furnished the nucleus. It stood by the traditional sites of the Well of Jethro and the Burning Bush, a retreat for the hermits when in former times they had been hard pressed by their Bedouin neighbours. It still remains, the residence of the Archbishop of Sinai, if that term may be applied to an abode in which that great dignitary is never resident ; the very gate through which he should enter having been walled up since 1722, to avoid the enormous outlay for the Arab tribes, who, if it were open for his reception, have an inalienable right to be sup¬ ported for six months at the expense of the convent.1 Bound about this tower, like a little town, extend in every direction the buildings of the convent, now indeed nearly deserted, but still by their number indicating the former greatness of the place, when each of the thirty- six chapels was devoted to the worship of a separate sect.2 3 Athwart the whole stretches the long roof of the church ; within which, amidst the barbaric splendour of the Greek ritual, may be distinguished with interest the lotus-capitals of the columns — probably the latest imitation of the old Egyptian architecture ; and high in the apse behind the altar— too high and too obscure to recognise their features or lineaments distinctly — the two medallions of Justinian and Theodora, probably, with the exception of those in St. Vitalis, at Ravenna, the only existing likenesses of those two great and wicked sovereigns ; than whom perhaps few could be named who had broken more completely every one of the laws which have given to Sinai its eternal sacredness. High beside the church, towers another edifice, in\^°con! which introduces us to yet another link in the recol- venfc* lections of Sinai — another pilgrim, who, if indeed he ever passed though these valleys, ranks in importance with any who have visited the spot, since Moses first led thither the flocks of Jethro. No one can now prove or disprove 1 Seo Robinson, Biblical Researches, i. see the Journey of the Franciscan Prefect 142. published by Bishop Clayton, p. 22 3 For a good account of the chapels, , PENINSULA OF SINAI. 119 of’Sf^S the tradition which relates that Mahomet, whilst yet of Mahomet. a camel-driver in Arabia, wandered to the great con¬ vent, then not a century old. It is at least not impossible, and the repeated allusions in the Koran to the stone of Moses,1 evidently that now exhibited ; to the holy valley of Tuwa,2 a name now lost, but by which he seems to designate the present valley of the convent; and to the special ad¬ dresses made to Moses on the western, and on the southern / slopes of the mountain,3 almost bring it within the range of probability. His name certainly has been long preserved, either by the policy or the friendliness of the monks. No where else probably in the Christian world is to be found such a cordial, it might also be said such a tender feeling towards the Arabian prophet and his followers, as in the precincts and the memorials of the Convent of Mount Sinai. “As he rested,” so the story has with slight variations been told from age to age,4 “ as he rested with his camels on Mount Menejia,5 an eagle was seen to spread its wings over his head, and the monks, struck by this augury of his future greatness, received him into their convent, and he in return, unable to write, stamped with ink on his hand the signature to a contract of protection, drawn up on the skin of a gazelle, and deposited in the archieves of the convent.” This contract, if it ever existed, has long since disappeared ; it is said, that it was taken by Sultan Selim to Constantinople, and exchanged for a copy, which however no traveller has ever seen. The traditions also of Mahomet in the Peninsula have evidently faded away. The stone which was pointed out to Laborde in 1828 as that on which Moses first, and the youthful camel-driver afterwards, had reposed, and to which the Bedouins of his day muttered their devotions, is now comparatively unknown.6 The footmark on the rock, whatever it is, invented or pointed out by the monks, as impressed by his dromedary or mule, according as it is supposed to have been left in 5 That which close? up the Valley of the Convent. 0 I could hear nothing of it, though fre¬ quently inquiring. 1 Koran, ii. 51 ; vii. ICO. 2 Koran, xx. 12. 3 Koran, xx. 82 ; xxvii. 45, 46. 4 See Laborde’s Commentary on Exo¬ dus and Numbers. ^ t; 120 SINAI AND PALESTINE. this early visit, or on his nocturnal flight from Mecca to Jerusalem — is now confounded by the Arabs with the impress of the dromedary on which Moses rode up and down the long ascent to Gebel Mousa. But there still remains, though no longer used, the mosque on the top of the mountain, and that within the walls of the convent, in which the monks allowed the Mahometan devotees to pray side by side with Christian pilgrims ; founded, according to the belief of the illiterate Mussulmans, — in whose mind chronology and history has no existence, — in the times of the prophet, when Christians and Mussulmans were all one, and loved one another as brothers. As centuries have rolled on, even the Convent BtSePofesthe of Sinai has not escaped their influence. The many Convent- cells which formerly peopled the mountains have long been vacant. The episcopal city of Para.n, perhaps in consequence of the rise of the foundation of Justinian, has perished almost without a history. The nunnery of St. Episteme has van¬ ished ; the convent of the good physicians Cosmo and Damian, the hermitage of St. Onufrius, the convent of the Forty Martyrs — tinged with a certain interest from the famous churches of the same name, derived from them, in the Forum of Borne, on the Janiculan Hill, and on the Lateran — are all in ruins ; and the great fortress of St. Catherine probably owes its existence more to its massive walls than to any other single cause. Yet it is a thought of singular, one might add of melancholy, interest, that amidst all these revolutions, the Convent of Mount Sinai is still the one seat of European and of Christian civilisation and wor¬ ship, not only in the whole Peninsula of Sinai, but in the whole country of Arabia. Still, or at least till within a very few years, it has retained a hold, if not on the reason or the affections, at least on the superstitions of the Bedouins, beyond what is exercised by any other influence. Burck- hardt and, after him, Robinson,1 relate with pathetic simplicity the deep conviction with which these wild children of the Desert believe that the monks command or withhold the rain from heaven, on which the whole sustenance of the Peninsula depends. 1 Burckhardt, p. 567 ; Robinson, i. 132. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 121 It is not for us to judge the difficulties of their situa¬ tion, the poverty and ignorance of the monks, the un- tameable barbarism of the Arabs. Yet looking from an external point of view at the singular advantages enjoyed by the convent, it is hard to recall another institution, with such opportunities so signally wasted. It is a colony of Christian pastors planted amongst heathens, who wait on them for their daily bread and for their rain from heaven, and hardly a spark of civilisation, or of Christianity, so far as history records, has been imparted to a single tribe or family in that wide wilderness. It is a colony of Greeks, of Europeans, of ecclesiastics, in one of the most interesting and the most sacred regions of the earth, and hardly a fact, from the time of their first foundat’on to the present time, has been contributed by them to the geography, the theology, or the history of a country, which in all its aspects has been submitted to their investigation for thirteen centuries. One other sanctuary of the Desert must be men- X S ft n c • 9 ** 9 # tuary of the tioned. The Bedouin tribes, as has been said, have s’hYyVh lost their ancient reverence for the traces of the Prophet, and every traveller has observed on theii godless life. It is very rare indeed that any sign of religious worship can be found amongst them. Few have any knowledge of the prescribed prayers of the Mussulman ; still fewer prac tise them. But there is one exception. In the eastern extrem ity of the great crescent-shaped valley which embraces the whole cluster of Sinai, is the tomb of the Sheykh, from which the wady derives its name — ■“ the Wady Es-Sheykh,” the “ Valley of the Saint.” In a tenement of the humblest kind is Sheykh Saleh’s grave. Who he was, when he lived, is en tirely unknown. Possibly he may have been the founder of the tribe of that name which still exists in the Peninsula ; possibly the ancient prophet mentioned in the Koran as preaching the faith of Islam before the birth of Mahomet.1 The present belief would seem to be, that he was one of the circle of companions of the Prophet, which, according to the defiance of all chronological laws in the minds of uneducated 1 Koran, vii. 71. For the various conjectures as to this great Bedouin Sain*, sex Ritter, Sinai, 650. 122 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Mussulmans, included Saleh, Moses, David, and Christ, as well as Abu Bekr, Omar, and Ali. This tomb is to the modern Bedouins the sanctuary of the Peninsula. As they approach it, they exhibit signs of devotion never seen elsewhere ; and once a year all the tribes of the Desert as¬ semble round it, and celebrate with races and dances a Bedouin likeness of the funeral games round the tomb of Patroclus. Sacrifices of sheep and camels, with sprinkling of the blood on the walls of this homely chapel, are described as accompanying this sepulchral feast.1 1 Two descriptions of these funeral rites 1835; the other, by the celebrated scholar have been preserved: one by Scliimper, Tischendorf (Reise ii., pp. 207 — 214; a German, whose MS. travels are quoted Ritter, 653), who saw them in 1847. Sea by Ritter, p. 652, and who saw them in Part II. xii a. NOTE. SINAITIC INSCRIPTIONS. (See page 116.) I have preferred to give my account of these inscrip¬ tions as nearly as possible in the words of a letter, written immediately after having seen the last of them on the frontier of the Desert, because I wish to confine myself simply to facts which fell under my own observa¬ tion. It may however be well briefly to state their history down to the present time. 1. The earliest indication of any such inscriptions is in Diodorus1 (b.c. 10), who probably derived his informa¬ tion from Artemidorus (b.c. 110), or Agatharchides (b.c. 160). In speaking of the sacred palm-grove on the south-west shore of the Peninsula (possibly Feiran, 1 III. 42. Strabo gives a similar ac- gives a short and clear statement of the count. See Bunsen, Christianity and whole question. Mankind, vol. iii. pp. 231 — 236, which PENINSULA OF SINAI. 123 but more probably Tor), he says, ‘‘There is also an altar of solid stone very old , inscribed with ancient un¬ known letters As the locality is uncertain we cannot identify this with any existing inscription. But it is important as a record of inscriptions, already old and unknown, at that date. 2. About A.n. 518, Cosmas, the Indian traveller (In~ dico-pleustes), visited the Peninsula. He observed “at all halting places, all the stones in that region which were broken off from the mountains , written with carved He¬ brew characters 11 which were explained to him by his Jewish companions as “ written thus : ‘The departure of such and such a man of such a tribe , in such a year , in such a month / 7 just as with us some people often write in inns.11 1 These words well describe the inscriptions in and near the Wady Mokatteb ; their position, their numbers, their accessibilitv, their likeness to the scrib- blings of casual travellers in halting-places. The only inaccuracy is the description of them as Hebrew, which, to one unacquainted with the language, was a natural mistake from the occasional resemblance of the charac¬ ters. His own explanation (he does not say that of his guides) is, that they were the work of the Israelites exercising themselves in the art of writing, newly acquired, as he supposed, at Sinai, and thus followed up “with the ardour of a new study 77 during the stay in the wilderness, “ as in a quiet school.77 3. The attention of scholars was again directed to them in 1753, by the eccentric Irish prelate, Bishop Clayton ; who published an account of them by the Pre¬ fect of the Franciscan Convent of Cairo, and offered a large reward for their transcription. 4. Since that time they have been frequently de¬ scribed by travellers, and various copies taken, of which the most complete were those published (1820) by Mr. Gray, in Yol. II. Part 1, of the Transactions of the 1 Montfaucon, Coll. Nov. Patr., ii. p. 20G. Beer, pp. 3, 4. Forster’s Voice of Israel, p. 15. 124 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Royal Society of Literature ; in addition to which, in 1845, many more were copied by Dr. Lepsius, which will, it is hoped, soon appear. 5. Of the copies so obtained two main explanations have been given. (a) In 1840, Dr. Beer of Leipsic published a work containing one hundred of these inscriptions, in which he arrived at the conclusion, first, that the language was a dialect of Arabic, and that their contents were the greetings and names of travellers ; secondly, that they were the work of Christian pilgrims. The author of this work died of starvation and neglect, just as it had acquired celebrity enough to procure him aid too late. It has since been followed up by Professor Tuch of Leipsic (1849), who agrees with Beer in the decypher- ment of the inscriptions ; but believes them to be of an earlier date, and chiefly by Pagans, pilgrims to Ser- Ml. ( b ) In two works published respectively in 1851 and 1856, the Rev. C. Forster revived Bishop Clayton’s notion of their Israelitish origin, — combining it with a new theory, that the characters are identical with the enchorial Egyptian alphabet ; that the rude accompany¬ ing pictures illustrate or explain the characters ; and that the inscriptions thus decyphered contain records of some of the chief events of the Exodus. It will be seen that, whilst in the account of their origin the theory of Cosmas agrees with Mr. Forster, in the account of their contents his statement agrees with Dr. Beer and Professor Tuch. The following observations have no further value than as the record of eye-witnesses. To enter more fully into the subject would require a knowledge of languages which I do not possess. But I may be permitted to draw a general conclusion from the facts just stated, combined with the appearance of the inscriptions them¬ selves. On the one hand the statements of Cosmas, and still more (if we could identify his description), of Dio- PENINSULA OF SINAI. 125 dorus, imply in some of the inscriptions an age prior, perhaps long prior, to the Christian era — which would receive an additional confirmation, if a statement made by Mr. Forster in his second work (p. 61), and by Dr. Stewart, Tent and Khan (p. 88), should prove cor¬ rect, that a Sinaitic inscription has been found contem¬ poraneous with a tablet of Egyptian hieroglyphics. On the other hand, the existence of Christian crosses, and the intermixture of Greek, Latin, and Arabic inscrip¬ tions, require in many others a date long subsequent, and prove that the whole series cannot be confined within the limits of a single generation, but must have extended over a period of centuries. Of their origin much may be inferred from their con¬ tents, if truly decyphered ; nothing, from their position, their numbers, or their mode of execution, except as to the probable direction or intention of the writers. 1. I have seen them in the following places : First in the Wady Sidri, the Wady Megara, and in great numbers in the Wady Mokatteb. I class these valleys together, because they are within three hours of each other. Secondly, a few in the lower parts of the Wady Feiran. Thirdly, in considerable num¬ bers up the Wady Aleyat, and five or six in the Wady Abou Hamad, and three on the summit of Mount Serbal. These I class together as being all on the passage to the top of Serbal. Fourthly, in the WadyaSolab, three or four, and in great num¬ bers in the Hakb-Howy. This valley and pass form together the lower road between Serbal and Sinai. Fifthly, in great num- tbers in the Leja, up to the first ascent of the “ Shuk Mousa,” or ravine by which you mount St. Catherine. Sixthly, on the high table-plain, called Plerimet Ilaggag, between the Wady Sayal and the Wady-el-’ Ain ; the rock which stands at the end of this plain has more in proportion than any other spot I have seen, and there are some in the sandstone labyrinths near it. Seventhly, a few on the staircase leading up to the Deir at Petra, and, apparently, on the “isolated column” in the plain. (Some of our fellow-travellers also found them in a tomb near the Theatre.) Eighthly, on the broken columns of a ruin at or near the ancient Malatha, immediately before entering the hills of Judea. 126 SINAI AND PALESTINE. 2. This enumeration will show how widely spread they are ; it will also, I think, show that in some instances at least they have been cut by pilgrims or travellers, visiting particular, and probably, sacred localities. I allude to those of the Leja;, the Deir at Petra, and especially Serbal. In all these places there is no thoroughfare, and therefore the places themselves must have been the object of the writers. What could have been their purpose in the Leja it is difficult to say, for they go beyond the traditional Rock of Moses, and yet they fall far short of the summit of St. Catherine ; nor have they any connection with the traditional scenes of the giving of the Law, Gebel Mousa being entirely without them. At Petra their object is evidently the I)eir. At Serbal, their object must have been something at the top of the mountain itself. [It will be seen that I have not visited the u Gebel Mokatteb,” which is an isolated mountain on the shore of the Red Sea, hitherto described only by the Compte d’Amtraigues. See Forster’s “ Voice of Israel,” p. 84.] It should also be observed, that they are nearly, though not quite, as numerous on the east as on the west of the peninsula. Those in the south lay out of my route.1 8. Their situation and appearance is such as in hardly any case requires more than the casual work of passing travellers. Most of them are on sandstone, those of Wady Mokatteb and Herimet Haggag, and Petra, of course very susceptible of inscriptions. Those which are on granite are very rudely and slightly scratched. At Herimet Haggag one of us scooped out a horse, more complete than any of these sculptured animals, in ten minutes. Again, none that I saw, unless it might be a very doubtful one at Petra, required ladders or machinery of any kind.2 Most of them could be written by any one, who, having bare legs and feet as all Arabs have, could take firm hold of the ledges, or by any active man even with shoes. I think there are none that could not have been written by one man climbing on another’s shoulder. Amongst the highest in the Wady Mokatteb are single Greek names. 4. Their numbers seem to me to have been greatly exaggerated. I had expected in the Wady Mokatteb to see both sides of a deep defile covered with thousands. Such is not the case by any means. The Wady Mokatteb is a large open valley, almost a plain, with no con- 1 Those on the north, between Surabit- el-Khadira and Wady es-Sheykh, are described by Lepsius (Letters, 299), amd Robinson (B. It. i. 123 — 125). Those on the south (on the Gebel Mokatteb, near Tor), are described by the Comte d’Am¬ traigues, as quoted in Mr. Forster’s Voice of Israel, p. 81 ; also by Wellsted, ii. 15 — 28. (Ritter, Sinai, 459.) It appears by the later work of Mr. Forster (lsraelitish Authorship, &c., p. 1C), that two travellers have lately “ expended ten days of indefatigable labour in the attempt to discover them, but without success.” 2 It appears that five more such cases have been discovered in or near the Wady Mokatteb (lsraelitish Authorship, &c., by the Rev. C. Forster, pp. 17 — 24). More such may very possibly be found, but the general character of their posi¬ tion is what I have described. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 127 tinuous wall of rock on either side, but masses of rock receding and advancing ; and it is only or chiefly on these advancing masses, that the inscriptions straggle, not by thousands, but at most by hundreds or fifties. So, on Serbal, I think we could hardly have overlooked any ; but we saw no more than three, though it is difficult to reconcile this with the statement of Burckhardt, that he had there seen many inscriptions. They are much less numerous than the names of Western travellers on the monuments in the Valley of the Nile since the beginning of this century. 5. So far as the drawings of animals by which they are usually accompanied, indicate the intentions of the inscriptions themselves, it is difficult to conceive that that intention could have been serious or solemn. The animals are very rudely drawn ; they are of all kinds ; asses, horses, dogs, but, above all, ibexes ; and these last, in forms so ridiculous, that, making every allowance for the rudeness of the sculpture, it is impossible to invest them with any serious signifi¬ cation. The ludicrous exaggeration of the horns of the ibex was almost universal ; and no animal occurred so frequently. Sometimes they are butting other animals. Sometimes they, as well as asses and horses, occur disconnected with inscriptions. 6. As regards their antiquity, I observed the following data. There was great difference of age. both in the pictures and letters, as indicated by the difference of colour ; the oldest, of course, being those which approached most nearly to the colour of the rock. But, first, I found none on fallen rocks inverted, and, though I doubt not that there may be such, the sandstone crumbles so rapidly that this is no proof of age. A famous Greek inscription at Petra fell in 1846. Secondly, they are intermixed, though not in great numbers, with Greek and Arabic, and in one or two instances Latin inscriptions, these in some cases bearing the same appearance of colour, wear and tear, as the Sinaitic. Thirdly, these Greek inscrip¬ tions, which alone I could read, were chiefly the names of the writers. The only Latin inscription which I remember was in the sandstone rocks near ITerimet Ilaggag, — Pertus. Fourthly, Crosses of all kinds, chiefly + and *f«, were very numerous and con¬ spicuous, standing usually at the beginning of the inscriptions, and (what is important) occurring also and in the same position before those written in Greek and Arabic ; often nothing but the cross, sometimes the cross with Alpha and Omega. [These last were in the same place where I noticed the Latin inscription, (thus A + fi), of the same colour as the contiguous Sinaitic characters.] From having previously seen that Forster and Tucb (the last German writer on the subject) had united in the conclusion that the hypothesis of their being Christian inscriptions was groundless, and that the alleged appearance of crosses was a mistake, I was the more surprised to find them in such numbers, and of such a character ; 128 SINAI AND PALESTINE. and however else they may be explained, I can hardly imagine a doubt that they are the work, for the most part, of Christiana, whether travellers or pilgrims. They are in this case curious, and if their object could be ascertained, would throw great light on the traditions of the Peninsula; but it cannot be reconciled with the theory of their being the work of Israelites. If the date of the columns at Malatha could be ascertained, or of the temple and tomb at Petra where they occur, the question would be settled. The two latter, I presume, cannot be older than the Roman dominion of Arabia. SINAI. PART II. THE JOURNEY FROM CAIRO TO JERUSALEM. The following extracts are either from letters, or (wThen bracketed) from journals, written on the spot or immediately afterwards. Such only are selected as served to convey the successive imagery of the chief stages of the journey, or as contained details not mentioned by previous travellers. My object has been to give the impressions of the moment, in the only way in which they could be given, — as the best illustrations of the more general statements elsewhere founded upon them. I. Departure from Egypt ; Overland Route ; First Encampment. — II. The Passage of tlio Red Sea. (1.) Approach to Suez. (2.) Suez. (3.) Wells of Moses. — III. The Desert, and Sandstorm. — IV. Marali; Elim. — V. Second Encampment by the Red Sea; “Wilderness of Sin.” VI. Approach to Mount Serbdl; Wady Sidri and W&dy Feir&n. — VII. Ascent of Serbal. VIII. Approach to G-ebel Mousa, the traditional Sinai. — IX. Ascent of Gebel Mousa and Ras Sasafeh. — X. Ascent of St. Catharine. — XL Ascent of the Gebel-ed-Deir. XII. Route from Sinai to the Gulf of ’Akaba.. (a.) Tomb of Sheykh Saleh, (b.) Wady Sayal and W4dy El’Ain. IIazeroth. — -XIII. Gulf of ’Akaba; Elath. XIV. The ’Arabah. — XV. Approach to Petra. — XVI. Ascent of Mount Hor. XVII. Petra. Kadesit. XVIII. Approach to Palestine. — XIX. Recollections of the First Day in Palestine. — XX. Hobron. — XXI. Approach to Bethlehem and Jerusalem. — XXII. First View of Bethlehem. — XXIII. First View of Jerusalem. EXTRACTS FROM LETTERS. ETC. I. — DEPARTURE FROM EJYPT — OVERLAND ROUTE — FIRST ENCAMPMENT. It was too hazy to see anything in the distance, — even the Pyra¬ mids were but shadows. Soon the green circle of cultivated land receded from view, like the shores as you sail out to sea, and in an hour we were in the desert ocean. Not, however, a wide circle of sand, but a wild waste of pebbly soil, something like that of the Plaine de Crau (near Marseilles), broken into low hills, and present¬ ing nowhere an even horizon. But the remarkable feature was a broad beaten track, smooth and even, and distinctly marked as any turnpike road in England, only twice the width, and running straight as a railway or Homan road through these desert hills. It was a striking sight in itself, to see the great track of civilized man in such a region. One of the party said, that the only thing to which it could be compared was the high-road from Petersburg!} to Moscow. It Avas still more striking when you knew what it Avas, the great thoroughfare of the British empire becoming yearly more important and interesting, as the course which so many friends have travelled, and will travel. Even the exodus for that day Avaxed faint before it. And, lastly, it Avas most instructive, as the only likeness probably which I shall ever see of those ancient roads, carried through the Desert in old times to the seats of the Babylonian and Persian Empires, to which allusion is made in the 40th chapter of Isaiah. In this comparatively le\rel region, it is true, no mountains had to be brought Ioav, nor valleys filled up; but it Avas literally “a high-way prepared in the wilderness;” and the likeness was only interrupted, not obscured, by the solitary stations and telegraphs which, at intervals of every five miles, broke the perfect desolation. It has hitherto run along our whole course. To-day, between heaps of stones — said by one of the dragomans to be the graves of Ibiahim Pasha’s soldiers — which, as the heaps extended for miles and miles, Avith the utmost regularity, needs no remark, except as an instance of the extreme rapidity Avith which false local traditions spring up. They really are the “ stones,” the stumbling-blocks “cast up” J out )f the Avay, and so left on each side of the road to mark it more listinctly . Isa. xl. 3 ; lxiL 10. i PENINSULA OF SINAI. 1 P>1 Nothing was more striking to me in our first encampment than file realisation of the first lines in Thalaba : — “ How beautiful is night, A dewy freshness fills the silent air.” There is the freshness without coldness, and there is the silence doubly strange as compared with the everlasting clatter of the streets and inns of Cairo, and the incessant sound of songs, and screams, and shocks of the boat upon the Nile; nothing heard but the slight move¬ ment amongst the Bedouin circles round their fires, and from time to time a plaintive murmur from the camels as they lie, like stranded ships, moored round the tents. II. — THE PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. (1.) Approach to Suez. — I have at last, as far as mortal eyes can see it, seen the passage of the Red Sea. It was about 3 p. m. yesterday, that as we descended from the high plain on which we had hitherto been moving, by a gentle slope through the hills, called, by figure of speech, the “ defile” of Muktala, a new view opened before us. Long lines, as if of water, which we immediately called out to be the sea. but which was, in fact, the mirage ; but above these, indubitably, the long silvery line of even hills — the hills of Asia. Onwards we still came, and in the plain below us lay on the left a fortress, a*tomb, and a fortified wall. This is ’Ajerud, famous as the first great halting-place of the Mecca Pilgrimage ; famous as the scene of Eothen’s adventure ; still more famous as being the only spot on the road which, by its name and position, can claim to be identified with any of the stations mentioned in the flight of the Israelites. It may possibly be Pi-hahiroth.1 If it was so, then the low hills of Muktala, through which we descended, are Migdol, and Baal Zephon was Suez, which lay on the blue waters of the sea now incontrovertibly before us east and south ; and high above the whole scene, towered the Gebel ’Attfika, the u Mountain of Deliverance,” a truly magnificent range, which, after all, is the one feature of the scene unchanged and unmistake- able. Every theory of the passage combines in representing this as the impediment which prevented the return of the Israelites into 1 Exod. xiv. 2, 9. Numb, xxxiii. 7, 8. “ Pi-hahirotli” may be either— (1) in Hebrew, “mouth of caverns,” as in the Vatican MS. of the LXX., Numb, xxxiii. 7, to oToua E Ipdd ; or much more probably, (2) in Egyptian, “ the grassy places,” — “ Pi” being the Egyptian article ; as in Alex. MS. of the LXX inavAeig. There is no appearance of verdure now, either at ’Ajerud, nor apparently at any corresponding spot m the Wfidy Tuarik. The name, however, may, after all, bo derived from the name of the Saint, “ ’Ajerud,” who is said to be buried in the tomb beside the fortress (Burton’s Pilgrimage to Medinoh, i. p. 230), unless, which is equally probable, the name of the saint was invented to account for the name of the place. Sec liko instances in Chapter V I. 132 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Egypt when Pharaoh appeared on their real It was this which “ shut them in/’1 (2.) Suez. — This morning I stood on the flat roof of the house, and with Dr. Robinson’s book in my hand, made out every locality. Somewhere within my view, — somewhere under that jagged mountain, — the greatest event before the Christian era must have taken place. Close under one’s feet, were the sandy shoals all round the moderr town of Suez, — over which they passed, according to one theory ; further down the gulf opened the deep blue sea, with the Asiatic hills just visible on the eastern side, — over which they passed, according to the other. It is the less necessary and the less possible to decide precisely, because the limits of the Desert in the previous route have evidently changed since u the edge of the wilderness”2 was only a day’s march from the sea ; as the limits of the sea have also changed, since the time when it ran far up into the north. (3.) From the Wells of Moses (’ Ayoun Mousa). — The wind drove us to shore ; and on the shore — the shore of Arabia and Asia — we landed in a driving sand-storm, and reached this place, ’AyouL Mousa, the “ Wells of Moses.” It is a strange spot, — this plot of tamarisks with its seventeen wells, — literally an island in the Desert, and now used as the Richmond of Suez, a comparison which chiefly serves to show what a place Suez itself must be. It is not mentioned in the Bible, but coming so close as it does upon any probable scene of the passage, one may fairly connect it with the song of Miriam. And now once more for the Passage. From the beach, within half an hour’s walk from hence, the shore commands a view across the Gulf into the wide opening of the two ranges of mountains,3 the opening of the valley through which the traditional Exodus took place, and consequently the broad blue sea of the traditional passage. This, therefore, is the traditional spot of the landing, and this, with the whole view of the sea as far as Suez, I saw to-night ; both at sun¬ set, as the stars came out ; and later still by the full moon — the white sandy desert on which I stood, the deep black river-like sea, and the dim silvery mountains of ’Attaka on the other side. These are the three features which are indisputable. You know the straits of Gibraltar, — the high mountains of Africa, the green swells of Europe, the straits which divide them. Such in their way are the three characteristic features of this great boundary of Africa and Asia, on which the Israelites looked through the moonlight of that memorable night. Behind that high African range lay Egypt, with all its wonders ; the green fields of the Nile, the immense cities, the 1 Josephus (Ant. II. xv. 3) mentions 2 Exod. xiii. 20. ' the mountain.” 3 See Part I p. 98. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 133 greatest monuments of human power and wisdom. On this Asiatic side begins immediately a wide circle of level desert stone and sand, free as air, but with no trace of human habitation or art, where they might wander as far as they saw, for ever and ever. And between the two rolled the deep waters of the sea, rising and falling with the tides, which, except on its shores, none of them could have seen, — the tides of the great Indian Ocean, unlike the still dead waters of the Mediterranean Sea. “ The Egyptians whom they had seen yesterday they will see no more for ever.” Most striking, too, it is to look on that mountain of ’Attaka, and feel that on its northern and southern extremity settle the main differences which on so many like questions have divided the Church in after times. For the passage at its southern end are the local Arab tradi¬ tions, the poetical interest of its scenery, the preconceived notions of one’s childhood. For the passage at the northern end are the ancient traditions of the Septuagint ; almost all the arguments founded on the text of the Bible itself ; all the wishes to bring the event within our own understanding. It is remarkable that this event — almost the first in our religious history — should admit on the spot itself of both these constructions. But the mountain itself remains unchanged and certain — and so does the fact itself which it witnessed. Whether the Israelites passed over the shallow waters of Suez by the means, and within the time, which the narrative seems to imply, or whether they passed through a chan¬ nel ten miles broad, with waves on each side piled up to the height of 180 feet, there can be no doubt that they did pass over within sight of this mountain and this desert by a mar¬ vellous deliverance. The scene is not impressive in itself, — that at Suez especially is matter of fact in the highest degree, and even that at ’Ayoun Mousa is not amongst those grand frame¬ works, such as at Marathon and elsewhere correspond to the event which they have encompassed. In this very fact, however, there is something instructive; “ a lesson,” as the Arabian Nights say, “to be graven on the understanding for such as would be admonished.” III. — THE DESERT, AND SAND-STORM. The clearing up of the sand the next morning revealed a low range of hills on the eastern horizon, the first step to the vast plain of Northern Arabia. The day after leaving ’Ayoun Mousa was at first within sight of the blue channel of the Bed Sea. “Thy way is in the sea, and thy path in the deep waters, and thy footsteps are not known .” How true, as of so much beside, so of the uncertainty attending the precise locality of the passage. But soon Red Sea and all were lost in a sand-storm, SINAI AND PALESTINE. 1 34 which lasted the whole day.1 Imagine all distant objects entirely lost to view, — the sheets of sand fleeting along the surface of the Desert like streams of water; the whole air filled, though invisibly, with a tempest of sand driving in your face like sleet. Imagine the caravan toiling against this, — the Bedouins, each with his shawl thrown completely over his head, half of the riders sitting back wards, — the camels, meantime, thus virtually left without guidance, though, from time to time, throwing their long necks sideways to avoid the blast, yet moving straight onwards with a painful sense of duty truly edifying to behold. I had thought that with the Nile our troubles of wind were over ; but (another analogy for the ships of the Desert) the great saddlebags act like sails to the camels, and therefore, with a contrary wind, are serious impediments to their progress. And accordingly Mohammed opened our tents this morning just as he used to open our cabin-doors, with the joyful intelligence that the wind was changed, — “good wind, master.15 Through this tempest, this roaring and driving tempest, which sometimes made me think that this must be the real meaning of “a howling wilderness,552 we rode on the whole day. IV. — MARAH — ELIM. We were undoubtedly on the track of the Israelites, and we saw the spring3 which most travellers believe to be Marah, and the two valleys, one of which must almost certainly, both perhaps, be Elim. The general scenery is either immense plains, or latterly a succession of water-courses, that especially of Ghurundel, exactly like the dry bed of a Spanish river. These gullies gradually bring you into the heart of strange black and white mountains, the rang:es of which overhang the Red Sea above the Hot Wells of Pharaoh, where, according to the Arab traditions of these parts, somewhat invalidating that of ’Ayoun Mousa, Pharaoh literally breathed his last. For the most part the Desert was absolutely bare, but Wady Ghurundel aad Wady Useit, the two rivals for Elim, are fringed with trees and shrubs, the first vegetation we have met in the Desert. These are so peculiar and so interesting that I must describe each. First, there are the wild palms, successors of the “threescore and ten.55 Not like those of Egypt or of pictures, but either dwarf, — that is, trunkless — or else with savage hairy trunks and branches all dishevelled. Then there are the feathery tamarisks, here assuming gnarled boughs and hoary heads, worthy of their venerable situation, 1 I have retained this account of the 1841, and again of another two months sandstorm, chiefly because it seems to be after ourselves in 1853. a phenomenon peculiar to this special 2 Deut. xxxii. 10. It must mean either region.' Van Egmont, Niebuhr, Miss this, or the howling of wild beasts. Martineau, all notice it, and it was just 3 There is nothing to add to Robinson’s as violent at the passage of a friend in description (i. 06). See Part I. p. 101. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 1 35 on whose leaves is found what the Arabs call manna. Thirdly, there is the wild acacia, the same as Ave had often seen in Egypt, but this also tangled by its desert growth into a thicket ; the tree of the Burning Bush, and the shittim wood of the Tabernacle. Keble’s ex¬ pression of the ‘ 1 towering thorn’ ’ is one of his feAV inaccuracies. No one Avbo has seen it Avould have used that expression for the tan¬ gled spreading tree, which shoots out its gay foliage and blue blos¬ soms over the Desert.1 To-day occurred a curious instance of the tenacious adherence of the Bedouins to their OA\Tn traditions. We passed a cairn, said to be the grave of the horse of Abou Zennab, his horse killed in battle. Who Abou Zennab was — Avhen he lived — what the battle Avas — is quite unknown, but he left an ordinance that every Arab should throw sand on the cairn as if it were barley, and say, “ Eat, eat, 0 horse of Abou Zennab,” as if the dead creature Avas still alive So said our Bedouin, and accordingly our Arab muttered the words, and pushed the sand tAvice or thrice Avith his foot as he passed. I could not help thinking of the Rechabites, as described by Jeremiah.2 V. — SECOND ENCAMPMENT BY THE BED SEA - “ AVILDERNESS OF SIN.” Another glorious day. We passed a third claimant to the title of Elim, the Wady Tayibeh, palms, and tamarisks, venerable as before; then down one of those river-beds, betAveen vast cliffs Avhite on the one side, and on the other of a black calcined colour, ketAveen which burst upon us once more the deep blue waters of the Red Sea, bright Avith their Avhite foam. Beautiful Avas that brilliant contrast, and more beautiful and delightful still to go doAvn upon the beach and see the Avaves breaking on that shell-streAvn weed-strewn shore, and promontory after promontory breaking into those Avaters right and left : most delightful of all the certainty, — I believe I may here say the certainty (thanks to that inestimable verse in Numbers xxxiii.), — that here the Israelites, coming doAvn through that very valley, burst upon that very vieAv, — the vieAY of their old enemy and old friend, — that mysterious sea, and one more glimpse of Egypt dim in the distance in the shadowy hills beyond it. Above the blue sea rose the Avhite marbly terraces, then blackened by the passage of the vast multitude. High above those terraces ranged the brown cliffs of the Desert, streaked here and there Avith the purple bands which noAY first began to display themselves. And as the bright blue sea formed the base of the vieAY, so it Avas lost above in a sky of the deepest blue that 1 have ever observed in the East. We turned aside at last into the plain of Murka — prcbably tho wilderness of Sin. 1 Sec Part I. p. 83. * Jor. xxxv. This slightly differs from Robinson’s account (i. p. 102). 136 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Red mountains closed it in on the north, one of which the Bedouins called Um-shomer — different from the far greater mountain of that name. Over the hills to the south was the first view of the peaks of Serbal. From this plain we entered the Wady Shellal — the u Val¬ ley of Cataracts;77 thus, for the first time, plunging into the bosom of the strangely-formed and strangely coloured mountains we had seen so long in the distance. They closed the prospect in front, — red tops resting on black or dark-green bases. The nearer rocks cast their deep evening shades along the level surface of the valley. The bright caper plant hung from their cliffs, and dwarf palms nestled under the overhanging cliff* at the entrance. VI. — APPROACH TO MOUNT SERBAL — WADY SIDRI AND WADY FEIRAN. The first great ascent we had made was after leaving the Wady Shellal. A stair of rock [the Nakb Bader a] brought us into a glorious wady (Sidri), enclosed between red granite mountains descending as precipitously upon the sands as the Bavarian hills on the waters of the Kbnigsee. It was a sight worthy of all re¬ membrance, before we reached this, to see the sunbeams striking the various heights of white and red, and to think what an effect this must have had as the vast encampment, dawn by dawn, in these mountains, broke up with the shout, “Rise up, Lord, and let Tliine enemies be scattered ; and let them that hate Thee flee before Thee.771 In the midst of the Wady Sidri, just where the granite was exchanged for sandstone, I caught sight of the first inscription. A few more followed up the course of a side valley where we turned up to see (strange sight in that wild region !) Egyptian hieroglyphics and figures carved in the chffs, — strange sight, too, for the Israelites if they passed this way ; like that second glimpse of the Red Sea, for these hieroglyphics are amongst the oldest in the world, and were already there before the Exodus. Of the other inscriptions, the chief part were in the next valley, Mokatteb, “ of writing,77 so called from them. Of these I will speak elsewhere.2 From the Wady Mokatteb, we passed into the endless windings of the Wady Feiran. I cannot toe often repeat, that these wadys are exactly like rivers, except in having no water ; and it is this appearance of torrent-bed and banks and clefts in the rocks for tributary streams, and at times even rushes and shrubs fringing their course, which gives to the whole wilderness a doubly dry and thirsty aspect — signs of “Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.” Here, too, began the curious sight of the mountains, streaked from head to foot, as if with boiling streams of dark red matter 1 Numb. x. 35. 2 See Note to Part I. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 137 , jaoured over them ; really the igneous fluid squirted upwards, as they were heaved from the ground. On the previous part of that day, and indeed often since, the road lay through what seemed to be the ruins, the cinders, of mountains calcined to ashes,1 like the heaps of a gigantic foundry. I cannot conceive a more interesting country for a geologist. Even to the most uneducated eye the colours tell their own story, of chalk and limestone, and sandstone, and granite ; and these portentous appearances are exactly such as give the im¬ pression that you are indeed travelling in the very focus of creative power. I have looked on scenery more grand, and on scenery as curious (the Saxon Switzerland), but on scenery at once so grand and so strange I never have looked, and probably never shall again. One other feature I must add. Huge cones of white clay and sand are at intervals planted along these mighty watercourses, guarding the embouchure of the valleys; apparently the original alluvial deposit of some tremendous antediluvian torrent, left there to stiffen into sandstone. We encamped at El Ilessue, the first, but not the largest of those groves of tamarisks and palms which make the Wady Eeiran so important a feature in the Desert. VII. — ASCENT OF MOUNT SERBAl. At 5.30 A. M. we started. We passed the instructive and sug¬ gestive sight of the ruins of the old Christian city and episcopal palace of Paran, under the hill which has great claims to be that on which Moses prayed, whilst the battle of Rephidim was fought for the passage through what is now (whatever it may have been) the oasis of the Desert."1 We then turned up the long watercourse occupied in part by the brook of Wady ’Aleyat, which conducted us to the base of the mountain, where the spring rises amidst moss and fern. It is one of the finest forms I have ever seen. It is a vast mass of peaks, which, in most points of view, may be reduced to five, the number adopted by the Bedouins. These five peaks, all of granite, rise so precipitously, so column-like, from the broken ground which forms the root of the mountain, as at first sight to appear inaccessible. But they are divided by steep ravines, filled with fragments of fallen granite. Up the central ravine, Wady Abou- Ilamad (a valley of the father of wild figs,” so called from half-a- dozen in its course), we mounted. It was toilsome, but not difficult, and in about three hours we reached a ridge between the third and fourth peak. Here we rested ; close by us were the traces of a large leopard. A little beyond was a pool of water surrounded by an old enclosure. Three quarters of an hour more brought us over smooth blocks ot granite to the top of the third or central peak, the steep ascent 1 vSee Part I. p. 85. 2 Soo Part 1. p. IOC. 138 SINAI AND PALESTINE. was broken by innumerable shrubs like sage or thyme, which grew to the very summit ; and at last, also helped by loose stones arranged by human hands (whether yesterday or two thousand years ago), and through a narrow pass of about twenty feet, to the two eminences of which this peak is formed. The highest of these is a huge block of granite; on this, as on the back of some petrified tortoise, you stand and overlook the whole Peninsula of Sinai. The Red Sea, with the Egyptian hills opposite: and the wide waste of the Ka’a on the south, the village and grove of Tor just marked as a dark line on the shore ; on the east the vast cluster of what is commonly called Sinai, with the peaks of St. Catherine ; and, towering high above all, the less famous, but most magnificent of all, the Mont Blanc of those parts, the unknown and un visited Um-Shomer. Every feature of the extraordinary con¬ formation lies before you ; the wadys coursing and winding in every direction; the long crescent of the Wady Es-Sheykh; the infinite number of mountains like a model ; their colours all as clearly dis¬ played as in Russegger’s geological map, which we had in our hands at the moment ; the dark granite, the brown sandstone, the yellow Desert, the dots of vegetation along the Wady Feiran, and the one green spot of the great palm-grove (if so it be) of Rephidim. On the northern and somewhat lower eminence are the visible remains of a building, which, like the stairs of stones mentioned before, may be of any date, from Moses to Burckhardt. It consists of granite fragments cemented with lime and mortar. In the centre is a rough hole, and close beside it, on the granite rocks, are three of those mysterious inscriptions, which, whatever they mean elsewhere, must mean here that this summit was frequented by unknown pilgrims, who used those characters ; the more so, as the like inscriptions were scat¬ tered at intervals, through the whole ascent. A point of rock imme¬ diately below this ruin was the extreme edge of the peak. It was flanked on each side by the tremendous precipices of the two neigh¬ bouring peaks — itself as precipitous — and as we saw them overlook¬ ing the circle of Desert — plain, hill, and valley, it was impossible not to feel that for the giving of the Law to Israel and the world, the scene was most truly fitted. I say “ for the giving of the Law,” be¬ cause the objections urged from the absence of any plain immediately under the mountain for receiving the Lawr, are unanswerable, oi could only be answered if no such plain existed elsewhere in the Peninsula. The point to which we ascended is doubtless the same as that described by Burckhardt, though it is difficult to reconcile the “three inscriptions” which we saw, with the “many” described by him, or the comparative ease of our ascent, with the immense fatigue of which he speaks. This last, however, may be accounted for by the fact that he ascended without a guide; whereas we had the PENINSULA OF SINAI. 139 assistance of the very intelligent Sheykh Zeddan, sheykh of Serbal, whom we found in the Wady ’Aleyat; with the clever boy, Fred , son of Sheykh Rassan, sheykh of the village in the same wady. He answered the names of all the mountains and wadys at a touch, [and it may be here interesting to give his version, as communicated through our dragoman, of the ruins and traditions of Feiran and Serbal. In reply to the question suggested by Ruppell’s1 assertion of the estimation in which Serbal was held by the Bedouins, as shown by sacrifices on its summit, he returned the following decisive answer: “ Arabs never pray or kill sheep on the top of Serbal; sometimes , however, travellers eat chickens there. The ruined building on the top was built by the Franks, or by the Derkani, the original inhabitants of the country, for keeping treasures. The ruins in Wady Feiran are also by Franks. There used to be a Frank windmill on the north-east side of the valley, and corn was carried across from the convent by a rope.”] It was already dark by the time that we reached our encampment at the eastern extremity of the Wady Feiran. It was a beautiful sight to see on our way the mountains lit up from top to bottom with the red blaze which shot up from the watchfires of the Bedouin tents. So they must have shone before the Pillar of Fire. The palm-groves of Feiran I saw only by the clear starlight ; yet it was still possible to see how great must be the beauty of the luxuriant palms and feathery tamarisks — the wide glades' below, the vast mountains above. VIII. - APPROACH TO GEBEL MOUSA, THE TRADITIONAL SINAI. We started at 5 a.m. The camels went round by Wady Es- Sheykh ; we took the direct route by Wady Solab, which, passing by several deserted Bedouin villages of the Arab serfs of the convent, with their lonely burial-grounds, brought us to the foot of the Nakb Howy, the “ Pass of the Wind,” a stair of rock, like that by which we had mounted to the cluster of Serbal, and by which we were to mount again into the second and highest stage of the great mountain labyrinth. Its entrance was formed by the white alluvial formations before mentioned, as if left by the great streams of the central mountains when they first burst forth to feed the lower plains and valleys of the Wady Feiran ; this being the opening into the dark range we had seen in the distance from the top of Serbal. The pass itself is what would be elsewhere a roaring torrent, like the pass of St. Gothard. It is amidst masses of rock, a thread of a stream just visible, and here and there forming clear pools shrouded in palms. On many of these rocky fragments are Sinaitic inscriptions, mostly white crosses. The steep pass is broken i a Sco Part I. p. 105. 140 SINAI AND PALESTINE. in part by long green swells as of tufa. At its summit, the course of the stream is still traceable from time to time by rushes. We reached the head of the pass ; and far in the bosom of the mountains before us, I saw the well-known shapes of the cliffs which form the front of Sinai. At each successive advance these cliffs disengaged themselves from the intervening and -surround • ing hills, and at last they stood out — I should rather say the columnar mass, which they form, stood out — alone against the sky. On each side the infinite complications of twisted and jagged moun¬ tains fell away from it. On each side the sky encompassed it round, as though it were alone in the wilderness. And to this giant mass we approached through a wide valley, a long continued plain, which enclosed as it was between two precipitous mountain ranges of black and yellow granite, and having always at its end this prodigious mountain block, I could compare to nothing else than the immense a, venue, — the “dromos,” as it is technically called, — through w'hich the approach was made to the great Egyptian temples. One ex¬ traordinary sensation was the foreknowledge at each successive opening of the view of every object that would next appear ; as cliff and plain, and the deep gorges on each side, and lastly the Convent with its gardens burst before me, it was the unfolding of the sight of sights, of which I had read and heard for years, till each part of it seemed as familiar as if I had seen it again and again. Was it the same or not ? The colours, and the scale of the scene, were not precisely what I should have gathered from descrip¬ tions ; the colours less remarkable, the scale less grand. But the whole impression of that long approach was even more wonderful than I had expected. Whatever may have been the scene of the events in Exodus, I cannot imagine that any human being could pass up that plain and not feel that he was entering a place above all others suited for the most august of the sights of earth. We encamped outside the Convent, at the point where the great Wady Es-Sheykh falls into the Wady Er-Raheh, immediately under the corner of the cliff. IX. — ASCENT OF GEBEL MOUSA AND OF rAs SASAFEH. The next day we started for Gebel Mousa, the Mountain of Moses, the traditional scene of the Giving of the Law. I shall not go through all the steps of the well-known ascent. There were two points which especially struck me. First, the little plain just before the last ascent. The long flight of rude steps, which leads from the base to the summit, winding through crags of granite, at last brings you in sight of a grand archway standing between two of these huge cliffs, somewhat like that by which you enter the desert if the Chartreuse. You pass this, and yet another, and then find PENINSULA OF STNA1. 1.41 yourself in that world-renowned spot.1 The tall cypress, which stands in the centre, had already appeared towering above the rocks before we came in sight of the whole. There is a ruined church on the slope of the hill, built over the so-called cave of Elijah, and a well and a tank on the other, also ascribed to him. It is a solemn and beautiful scene, entirely secluded, and entirely characteristic, with the exception of the cypress, which marks the hand of strangers. .Next, the summit itself, whatever else may be its claims, bears on its front the marks of being, or having been, regarded as the spot most universally sacred on earth. For there, side by side, and from reverence for the same event on which both religions are founded, stand the ruins of a small Christian church, once divided amongst all the Christian sects, and of a small Mahometan mosque. From whatever point we saw this famous peak, these two fragments of worship, almost always visible upon it, more distinctly than any¬ thing else told what it was. And now for the question which every one asks on that consecrated spot. Is this ‘ ‘ the top of the mount” described in Exodus," or must we seek it elsewhere? The wdiole question turns on another question, whether there is a plain below it agreeing with the words of the narrative. Dr. Robinson, who has the merit of discovering first that magnificent approach which I have before described on the other side of the mountain, declares not ; but Laborde and others have so confidently maintained that there was a large and appropriate place for the encampment below this peak, that I was fully prepared to find it, and to believe in the old tradition. This impression is so instantly overthrown by the view of the Wady Seb’ayeh, as one looks down upon it from the precipice of Gebel Mousa, that it must be at once abandoned in favour of the view of the great approach before described, unless either the view of the plain of Er-Raheh was less imposing from above than it was from below, or the plain of Seb’ayeh more imposing from below than it was from above. The first thing to be done was, therefore, to gain the summit of the other end of the range called the Ras Sasafeh (Willow Head), overlooking the Er-Raheh from above. The whole party descended, and after winding through the various basins and cliffs which make up the range, we reached the rocky point overlooking the approach we had come the preceding day. The effect on us, as on every one who has seen and described it, was instantaneous. It was like the seat on the top of Serbal, but with the difference, that here was the deep wide yellow plain sweeping down to the very base of the cliffs ; exactly answering to the plain on which the people u removed and stood afar off.” . . . There is yet a higher mass of granite immediately above this point, which should be ascended, for the 1 I cannot forbear to refer to the description of it in “Tailored.” a Kxod. xix, 20. 142 SINAI AND PALESTINE. greater completeness of view which it affords. — The plain below is then seen extending not only between the ranges of Tlaha and Furei’a, but also into the lateral valleys, which, on the north-east, unite it with the wide Wady of the Sheykh. This is important as showing how far the encampment may have been spread below, still within sight of the same summit. Behind extends the granite mass of the range of Gebel Mousa, cloven into deep gullies and basins, and ending in the traditional peak, crowned by the memorials of its double sanctity. The only point which now remained was to explore the Wady Seb'ayeh on the other side, and ascertain whether its appearance and relation to Gebel Mousa from below was more suitable than it seemed from above. This I did on the afternoon of the third day, and I came to the conclusion, that it could only be taken for the place if none other existed. It is rough, uneven, narrow. The only advantage which it has is, that the peak from a few points of view rises in a more commanding form than the Has Sasafeh. But the mountain never descends upon the plain. No ! If we are to have a mountain without a wide amphitheatre at its base, let us have Serbal ; but, if otherwise, I am sure that if the monks of Justinian had fixed the traditional scene on the Has Sasafeh, no one would for an instant have doubted that this only could be the spot . Considering the almost total absence of such conjunctions of plain and mountain in this region, it is a really important evidence to the truth of the narrative, that one such conjunction can be found, and that within the neighborhood of the traditional Sinai. Nor can I say that the degree of uncertainty, which must hang over it, materially diminished my enjoyment of it. In fact, it is a great safeguard for the real reverence due to the place, as the scene of the first great revelation of God to man. As it is, you may rest on your general conviction, and be thankful. [This question between the two points of the range of Gebel Mousa asumes more importance on the spot than it deserves. On a careful consideration of the traditional statements, it seems very doubtful whether the scene of the Giving of the Law to the people as we now conceive it, ever entered into the minds of those who fixed the traditional site. The consecrated peak of Gebel Mousa was probably revered simply as the spot where Moses saw the vision of God, without reference to any more general event.] See Part I. pp. 94, 109. X. — ASCENT OF ST. CATHERINE. The next day we ascended the highest peak, not of the whole peninsula, but of the Sinai range. Its whole historical or legendary interest depends on the story from which it derives its name, that the PENINSULA OF SINAI. 143 angels bore St. Catherine’s body from Alexandria over the Red Sea and Desert, and placed it on the mountain-top.1 It is a noble mount¬ ain, and glorious was the view from the top. It embraces not only the labyrinth of bare granite peaks which you see from Gebel Mousa, but a panorama over the whole peninsula. Once more we saw Serbal itself; once more, and now nearer at hand, the masses of Um- Sliomer ; and (what we could not see from Serbal), both the gulfs of the Red Sea, beautifully blue, with the high mountains of Egypt and Arabia beyond. Most complete, too, was the view of Gebel Mousa below ; the reddish granite of its lower mass ending in the grey green granite of the peak itself. [The points embraced in the several views from Gebel Mousa, Ras Sasafeh, and St. Catherine have been so fully described by Dr. Robinson, that it will be superfluous to add any details of my own. I will confine myself to points which he has omitted, or which have been questioned. — 1. Dr. Wilson, Miss Martineau, and Laborde, in contradiction to Dr. Robinson, assert that from one or both of the two former points Serbal is visible. He is right, and they are wrong. What they took for Serbal is the double peak of El-Banat (see p. 93). 2. Dr. Robinson does not notice the very high mountain visible from St. Catherine, south-west of Um-Shomer, and apparently calculated by Riippell to be the highest in the Peninsula. We could not ascer¬ tain its name. It is possibly that called by Burckhardt (p. 576) “Thomman,” or “El Koly.” 3. No traveller has adequately de¬ scribed the beauty of the great ravine by which St. Catherine is ascended, under the name of “ Shuk Mousa,” “the Cleft of Moses.” And Lepsius, in particular, has much underrated the amount of water produced generally by the springs of this cluster, especially by the spring in this cleft, which sends down a regular brook through the whole of the Leja.] XI. — ASCENT OF THE GEBEL-ED-DEIlt. [This mountain is the only one of the group immediately around the Convent which had never been explored.2 For this reason, amongst others, we made the ascent, and for this reason I here give the account of it. It bears the various names of Gcbel-ed-Deir, “the Mountain of the Convent,” from the nunnery which once existed there — “Gebel Bestin,” from “St. Episteme,” the first abbess of the nunnery, — “ Solab,” the Cross, from the cross which stands on its summit; — of “the Burning Bush,” from the story already given 3 “We went up with two Bedouin boys, belonging to the serfs of the Convent : — The name of the eldest was Saleh, of the younger, Hamadan. Like all the young guides 1 Sjo Part I. p. 110. 2 Ititter j Sinai, p. 544. 3 Part I. p. 111. 144 SINAI AND PALESTINE. attached to the monastery, they were remarkably intelligent ; and though they had never been to the summit before, found their way with great sagacity. The ascent took three hours : it wTas steep, but the granite was sufficiently rough to afford hold and footing. In the recesses between the peaks was a ruined Bedouin village. On the highest level was a small natural basin, thickly covered with shrubs of myrrh,— of all the spots of the kind that I saw, the best suited for the feeding of Jethro’s flocks in the seclusion of the mountain. From this, through the rock, a deep narrow cleft opens straight down upon the Convent, which lies far below, like a collection of houses of card or cork, with the leaden roof of the church standing athwart them. This, doubtless, is the explanation of the legend of the miraculous sun-beam. The highest point of all is a little above this, reached by clambering over blocks of granite, — and is crowned by the rude wooden cross which gives the mountain its name, and stands out in the blue sky, a strange sight in the Arabian wilder¬ ness. From this point, St. Catherine and Gebel Mousa are both visible ; also beyond St. Catherine, the long line of peaks, which we saw from thence ; and amongst them rose the tall pyramidal mountain, of which we were still in doubt whether it was Um-Shomer. A light cloud veiled the summit of Ras Sasafeh. This is the only spot which commands the view both of the Wady Seb’ayeh and of the Wady Er-Raheh. In other respects, it is inferior to any of the other four mountain views we saw : less extensive than Serbal or St. Catherine, less wild than Gebel Mousa, and less imposing than Ras Sasafeh. Thence we descended by a path on the south-west to the ruins of the nunnery, called ‘ Magarefeh’ (‘Security’), which was under a steep rock, and above a little spring, or stream. Steps of broken stones, like those on the ascent of Gebel Mousa, lead from thence to the Wady Ed-Deir. In the course of the descent we came to a precipitous granite rock, so smooth as to render it almost im¬ possible to pass down its surface ; the boys, with much ingenuity, turned the difficulty by discovering a fissure, through which we could creep underneath it.”] XII. — ROUTE FROM SINAI TO ’ ARAB A. The approach to Sinai from the west has been so often described, that I have hitherto only given the general outline contained in the letters. But the descent to the east has been so seldom and so er¬ roneously delineated both in books and maps, that I venture to add here a few words from my journal. (i.) Tomb [On leaving the Convent, the road soon falls of Sheykh ^he crescerlf °f the Wady Es-Sheykh, — which widens till it opens into a large plain. In the midst of this was a small chanel, with a white conical roof, PENINSULA OF SINAI. 145 containing the tomb of Sheykh Saleh, who gives his name to the vady. Round it are a collection of small gravestones. He was, according to the Bedouins with us, one of the Souabis, or com¬ panions of the Prophet, 4 in the time of Mousa and Mohammed/ and attended the latter, and was buried on the journey, — 4 as if — excuse me — one of you, masters, fell sick, and died, and was buried.’ 4 The comb is still visited by all the Towara Arabs, and by them alone.’ ! The burial place belongs to them.’ 4 Bedouins, not of the Towara, however near, could not be buried here.’ The Arabs who accom¬ panied us (here and here only on the journey) began to mutter prayers as they approached. They (with our own Mohammed) stood for a few minutes, saying a few prayers or addresses to the dead saint, with a great appearance of solemnity, and then entered the hovel. The Saint is buried in the floor. Plis wooden coffin, with a wooden handle to mark the head, closed with a lid above, — is supposed to be above the grave. This is covered with cloth, — and sticks are rudely put up round it, hung with old rags and shawls. 4 If they were of Cashmere, no one would take them.’ The one Bedouin who entered wTith us knelt down, and taking dust from the coffin, threw it on his head. One by one they all entered, but with a kind of delicacy uniting till we had left it. From this point we struck off from the Wady Es-Sheykh, leaving it to pursue its winding coarse towmrds the Wady Feiran — and went up the Wady Souwyrah — near the spring of Abou Souwyrah, whence the Bedouins fetched water. Up the Nakb-Souwyrah, — an abrupt, but not high or difficult pass into the wady or wide broad plain of El-Wah, the watershed between the cluster of Sinai and ’Akaba. From this pass, and from this plain, the backward view of the Sinai mountains was very fine, — St Catharine, and at times Gebel Mousa and Ras Sasafeh towering above the rest ; and in front a long bul¬ wark of black and jagged peaks, like the Grampians. From this plain we descended into the Wady Sayal, — • (2). wady so called, apparently, trom a few scattered acacias, the first Say:lL we have seen since leaving the Wady Solab. This wady is a continu¬ ous descent, between, high granite rocks, occasionally red — sometimes like the deep red of old brick. In this we encamped. The next day t widened, and the acacias increased into spreading, mazy thorns. A sharp storm of rain, the only one we experienced in our whole jour¬ ney, swept from the Sinai range, during which we took shelter under a 4 Retein,’ or broom. The shrubs on the ground were myrrh (sci’), a yellow flownring shrub, called 44 Abi-rathin,” and a blue thorny plant, called 44 Silleh.” The hills here are of a conical shape, curiously slanting across each other, and with an appearance of serpentine and basalt. The wady, still bearing the same name, then mounted a sliort rocky pass — of hills capped with sandstone — and entered on a plain of deep sand — the first we had encountered— over which 146 SINAI AND PALESTINE. were scattered isolated clumps of sandstone, with occasional chalk — - to which the Arabs gave the name of “ 5Adjerat-el-Farous.” On two of these rocks were Sinaitic inscriptions ; one with animals, one without. At the close of this plain, an isolated rock, called by the Bedouins “Herimet Haggag,” “ Aboutig Suleman,” “ Kel’ et ? Ab¬ dallah,^ — its high tiers rising out of lower tiers, like a castle. Al¬ most all round the lower tier are inscriptions, some Sinaitic, som Arab, two or three Greek, — many animals, some recent, but tlm greater part of the same colour as the inscriptions, — and chiefly ibexes, with enormous horns, overlapping the whole body like a ram bow; — also camels and ostriches.1 Leaving this rock, — and leaving also the level ranges of El-Tih, which now rose in front, — we turned down from the Maharid-eb Iduderah, — the £ network/ so called from the extreme complication of small isolated masses — through a sandy desert, amidst fantastic sandstone rocks, mixed with lilac and dull green, as if of tufa. Here were some more inscriptions, — and here we encamped. Above the encampment was a crumbling sandstone ridge, which commanded the last great view, and almost equal in beauty to any that we had seen in the Sinaitic peninsula. On the south-west was the whole Sinai range. Um-Shomer and St. Catherine were veiled in cloud, — but Ser- bal and El-Banat were just visible, — the first like one dot, the second, with its double peak, like two dots, on the far horizon. On the north¬ west were the level ridges of the Tih : on the east was the vast and beautiful outline of Arabian mountains on the other side of the Gulf of ’Akaba, with yet another range beyond them, rising as if to a very great height. The near view was of sand, isolated sandstone hills, and the green and purple hill on which we stood. At 7.30 A. M. we started through deep sand,2 — and what Hr. Robinson well calls “ fragments of the Tih, 7 7 — over aflat plain, called by the Arabs Ridhan-es-Shua/aa. This presently contracted into a valley (Wady Ghazaleh), winding, like the Wady Say al, between high granite rocks. At 9.30, the Wady Huderah fell into it from the north-west, and the Wady Ghazaleh now opened into another and a still more tortuous valley, which, from first to last, was called by the Arabs the Wady El-’ Ain — “of the Spring.” The spring, or brook, which gives it its name, is a rill of clear fresh water, which descends into it, winding through a winding ravine from the west ; its course marked by rushes, the large-leaved plant called “ Esher,” tama¬ risks, and wild palms. A venerable group of these last stands near the entrance of the brook into the Wady El-’ Ain, the rough stems springing up from one vast shaggy root, — the branches, dead and living, hanging over in a tangled canopy. As it descends into the wady, it spreads out its stream with more rushes and more i n Compare Burckliardt, 505, 506. See Part I. \\ 126. a a See Part I. p. 7 1 PENINSULA OF SINAI. 147 palms. The rocks rise, red granite or black basalt, occasionally tipped a& if with castles of sandstone, to the height of about 1000 feet. They are absolutely bare, except where the green u lasaf77 or caper plant springs from the clefts. Occasionally they overlap and narrow the valley greatly. Finally they open on the sea — the high Arabian mountains rising beyond. At the mouth of the pass are many traces of flood — trees torn down, and strewed along the sand. This pass is certainly one of the most striking scenes in the Pe¬ ninsula. It is well described by Riippell and by Miss Martineau, under the name of the Wady Wettir, which is a name sometimes given to the lower portion of it, from a ravine of that name which falls into it from the north, shortly after, the reception of the brook. Laborde also passed through it on his return from Petra, but, singu¬ larly enough, without a word of remark on its unparalleled beauty. In all the maps of Sinai — least so in that of Palmer — and in most of the descriptions of this route, there prevails considerable confusion on this point. The following statement, founded on our own obser¬ vation, and on a careful examination of the Sheykh M‘Dochal, who accompanied us, may be relied upon. The spring of Huderah is distinct from the spring El-7 Ain, and is at the head of the Wady Huderah, a little to the N. of the great rock of Herimet Jlaggag. Dr. Robinson came down the Wady Huderah, crossed the Wady Ghazaleh, and passed through the Wady Sumghy, which en¬ ters on the sea shore about an hour south of the Wady El-7 Ain. It is his statement, founded on hearsay, that the Wady El-7 Ain was a day and a half distant, which has misled all modem maps into placing it much too far north.] HAZEROTII. Besides the interest of the physical peculiarities of this route is the faint probability that this beautiful valley and its neighbourhood may have been the scene of the first long halt after the departure from Sinai. After Taberah and Kibroth-Hattaavah, the people “ abode7 “ for seven days,” at least, in Hazeroth.1 Burckhardt, and most travellers after him, have, from the resemblance of the two radical letters in the two words, identified this with Huderah. Such a conjecture must be very uncertain, the more so as the name of Hazeroth is one the least likely to be attached to any permanent or natural feature of the 1 Numb. xi. 35 ; xii. 15, 1G. The arguments are well stated in Ritter; Sinai, 251 2G1. 270. 148 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Desert. It means simply the “ enclosures,”1 such as may still be seen in the Bedouin villages, hardly less transitory than tents. Three points, however, may be mentioned, as slightly confirmatory of the hypothesis that the Israelite route lay in these valleys. First, the brook of El- Ain, as its name implies, is empha¬ tically “the water,” u the spring,” of this region of the Desert, and must therefore have attracted round it any nomadic settlements, such as are implied in the name of Hazeroth, and such as that of Israel must have been. If thev descended at all to the western shores of the Gulf of ’Akaba, this is the most natural spot for them to have selected for a long halt. Secondly, in the murmurs pre¬ vious to their arrival at Hazeroth, “ the sea” is twice mentioned, in a manner which may indicate its proximity, and which is therefore certainly more appropriate to these valleys touching on the Gulf of ’Akaba, than to the more inland route over the Tih. “ Shall the flocks and the herds be slain for them, to suffice them ? or shall all the fish of the sea be gathered together, to suffice them ?”2 “ There went forth a wind from the Lord, and brought quails from the sea .”3 Thirdly, in connection with this incident of the “ quails,” may be mentioned the fact, that on the evening and the morning of our encampment, immediately before reaching the Wady Huderah, the sky was literally darkened by the flight of innumerable birds, ' which proved to be the same large red-legged cranes, three feet high, with black and white wings, measuring seven feet from tip to tip, which we had seen in like numbers at the First Cataract of the Nile. It is re¬ markable that a similar flight was seen by Schubert near the very same spot. That any large flights of birds should be seen in those parts at any rate illustrates the Scripture narrative. But if a recent4 explanation of the difficult passage in Numbers xi. 31, be correct, and the * For the name, see Appendix. Numb. xi. 22 ; see Ritter, 327. 8 Numb. xi. 31. 4 Mr. Forster’s Voice of Sinai, p. 108. 1 do not mean to guarantee the accuracy of liis translation, or the applicability of his remarks to the especial subject of which he is there speaking. But I am unwilling to withhold this slight illustra* tion of almost the only conclusion in that work which received any confirmation from my observations PENINSULA OF SINAI. 149 expression u two cubits high upon the face of the earth/' be applied, not to the accumulation of the mass, but to the size of the individual birds ; the flight of cranes, such as we saw, may be not merely an illustration, but an instance, of the incident recorded in the Pentateuch, and the frequency of the phenomenon in this locality may serve to show that Kibroth-Hattaavah and Iludertih were not far distant. XIII. — GULF OF ;AKABA. Down this valley then, through these splendid rocks vre rode, till at last, opening more widely than before, they disclosed the blue waters of the Gulf. Dromedaries, Bedouins, all set olf in a race, each Bedouin urging on the dromedary of his master ; and after half an hour’s gallop we arrived on the shore. The next day, and the next, were along the shore of the sea almost the whole way. It is the Gulf of Elath and Ezion-Geber, up and down which the fleets of Solomon brought the gold of Ophir : the great channel of com¬ merce till it was diverted by Alexandria to the Gulf of Suez. The two gulfs seem, like Castor and Pollux, to have risen and set alter¬ nately. Now there is not a single boat upon it from end to end. Once a year, and once only, boats come round from Suez to ’Akaba with provisions for the Mecca pilgrims ; at all other times it is deso¬ late as the wilderness. But what a sea ! and what a shore ! From the dim silvery mountains on the further Arabian coast, over the blue waters of the sea, melting into colourless clearness as they roll up the shelly beach, — that beach red with the red sand, or red granite gravel that pours down from the cliffs above, — those cliffs sometimes deep red, sometimes yellow and purple, and above them all the blue cloudless sky of Arabia. And the sight of the shore at once reveals why this sea, in common with the Indian Ocean, was called Red by the Greeks, and the Sea of Weeds by the Hebrews. Of the red sand and rocks I have spoken ; but, besides these, fragments of red coral are forever being thrown up from the stores below, and it is these coralline forests which form the true “ weeds” 1 of this fantastic sea. But, above all, never did I see such shells. Ear as your eye can reach you see the beach whitening with them, like bleaching bones ; and as you break them under your dromedary’s feet, they are like the earthenware on Monte Testaccio, only, instead of broken pottery, like white porcelain. These are the larger ones ; but there are smaller ones, of every size, and shape, and colour ; sometimes, too, the trunks of trees of white coral, shoot- 1 See Part I. pp. 67, 68. 150 SINAI AND PALESTINE. ing their roots through the sand, the upper branches gone, bat still showing what these trees must be in the depths below. On tho second day we had to leave the shore to cross a high mountain pass (Nakb-Muheymerat), by a very rugged path, the highest and roughest that we have seen ; the line of camels, going in single file, extended almost from top to bottom. It is important, because, being the only means of reaching the head of the gulf, it proves either that the Israelites could not have come our route, or that no pass which we have seen in Sinai would have impeded their march to any point in the Peninsula. It was about four p.m. that we reached ’Akaba. 5 Akaba is a wretched village, shrouded in a palm-grove at the north end of the Gulf, gathered round a fortress built for the protection of the Mecca pilgrimage ; into whose route we here again fell for the first time since we left it at ’ Ajerud, which is guarded by a fort like this. This is the whole object of the present existence of ’Akaba, which stands on the site of the ancient Elath, — the Palm-Trees,” so called from the grove.1 Its situation, however, is very striking, looking down the beautiful gulf, with its jagged ranges on each side : on the west is the great black pass down which the pilgrimage descends, and from which ’Akaba (“the Pass”) derives its name; on the north opens the wide plain, or Desert Valley, wholly different in char¬ acter from anything we have seen, still called as it was in the days of Moses, “ the ’Arabah.” Down this came the Israelites on their return from Kadesh, and through a gap up the eastern hills they finally turned off to Moab. On this view they undoubtedly looked. It was a new Red Sea for them, and they little knew the glory which it would acquire when it became the channel of all the wealth of Solomon. XIV. — THE ’ARABAH. Our journey for the first two days was along the wide and desert valley of the ’Arabah. It is one great peculiarity of the whole of the passage through the Desert, that every day you pass over a battle-field of historical or topographical controversy ; not the Forum of Rome is more fertile in such disputes. In this great valley there is no more question of the course of the Israelites. It is in¬ deed doubtful whether they passed up it on their way to Canaan, but no one can doubt that they passed down it, when the valleys of Edom were closed against them. But the geographical contro¬ versy, of which the ’Arabah is the scene, though it has or ought to have been set at rest in its essential points by the comparative levels 1 See Part I. p. 84. There is nothing to fix the site of Ezu in-G-ober, “ the Giant’s Backbone.” PENINSULA OP SINAI. 151 of the Gulf of ’Akaba and the Lake cf Gennesareth, still remains unsettled in its lesser details. [For this reason it may be worth while to give a few notes of its general features, taken at the time. After leaving ’Akaba, we entered the Wady ’Arabah, over the mounds, supposed by Dr. Robinson to be the remains of Elath. On the east is a low gap in the hills with three low peaks visible beyond. This is the Wady Ithm, which turns the eastern range of the ’Arabah, and through which the Israelites must have passed on their way to Moab. It is still one of the regular roads to Petra, and in ancient times seems to have been the main approach from Elath or ’Akaba, as it is the only road from the south which enters Petra through the Sik.1 The only published account of it is that of Laborde. These mountains appear to be granite. On the west are the limestone ranges of the Till, horizontal as before. Two remarkable wadys appeared in the eastern range, after leaving tne Wady Ithm. First, the Wady Tubal, where, for the first time, red sandstone appeared in the mountains, rising, as in the Wady El-’Ain, architecture-wise, above gray granite. Of these moun¬ tains, the most prominent is Gebei Shebibeh, with Wady Moahil beneath. The next is Wady Ghurundel, a narrow gorge, with a slight brook forming small pools — rushes and dwarf palms around — innumerable goats and sheep crowded at the water, led by black- veiled Bedouin women. (This Wady must not be confounded witli the more celebrated valley of the same name in the Peninsula of Sinai.) It was about four hours after leaving the entrance of Wady Ghurundel, and one hour before arriving at the entrance of the Wady Abou-Sheykh (leading to Petra), that we arrived at what the Sheykh Mohammed2 pointed out to us [as he had before, it seems, pointed out to Mr. Bartlett] what he considered as the division of the waters between the Gulf of ’Akaba and the Dead Sea. Two circumstances always make it difficult for travellers positively to ascertain this point. First, the slope in the level of the ’Arabah from east to west, which distorts the course of the torrents, and makes it almost impossible to distinguish whether they descend in a northerly or a southerly direction ; secondly, the difficulty of tra¬ versing the ’Arabah (when in a caravan) directly from east to west. The ridge in question was a long lino of hills, formed apparently of a detritus of stone and sand, called “ Chragi-er-Rishi” (“ Saddlebags 1 Seo p. 155. 2 Sheykh Mohammed is the eldest son of the celebrated Sheykh of tho Alouins, Hnsssyn. His father, now advancing in years, deputed his son to escort us ; and I feel bound to mention the almost princely courtesy which he showed to us during tho journey. I have purposely omitted all account of the often repeated, though to thoso concerned always inter¬ esting, negotiations with the old chief himself at ’Akaba. 152 SINAI AND PALESTINE. of feathers”), which ran due west along the ’Arabah. Just before reaching these was the first view of Mount Hor, and on ascending them we looked back for the last time over the southern 5 Arab ah, which from this point looks like a waste of sand ; whereas, when in it, the shrubs at times give it almost the appearance of a jungle The wide opening to the sea is also visible from hence, though not the sea itself. In the midst of these hills, or rather of the undula¬ tions formed by their summits, all intersected by lesser watercourses, is one broad watercourse, running from east to west, called Wady Howar, i. e., “ the division.” It is this which Sheykh Mohammed declares to be the watershed, and which, he maintains, “ shuts out” the waters of the Gulf of 'Akaba from side to side.] XV. — APPROACH TO PETRA. The whole prospect changes at this point. We lose the opening of the valley into the Gulf of ’Akaba, and we gain the view of Mount Hor, — the “ Mountain of Aaron,” as it is still called. Be¬ hind it lies Petra, and to Petra, through fantastic rocks, we turned aside, and encamped at last at the entrance of the pass, and waited for the morning. One isolated rock, with an excavation inside, in front of the hill, indicated the region we were approaching, appa¬ rently an outpost for a sentinel, — perhaps the very one which the Prophet had in his eye in that well-known text, ‘‘Watchman, what of the night ?” 1 And now arose the strange feeling of arriving at a place which it was possible we might be prevented by force from entering, or have by force to enter. Fifty years hence, when our friend Sheykh Mohammed has put down the surrounding tribes, Petra will have lost half its interest ; but now the failures and dangers are sufficiently recent to form part of the first impression of the place. It is lite¬ rally “ paved with the good intentions” of travellers, unfulfilled. There, was Mount Hor, which Robinson and Laborde in vain wished to ascend ; there, the plain half way, where Burckhardt was obliged to halt without reaching the top ; here the temple which Irby and Mangles only saw through their telescope ; here the platform from which the Martineau party were unable to stir without an armed guard ; and, lastly, on the very plain of our encampment, at the entrance of the pass, travellers with our own dragoman were driven back last year without even a glimpse of the famous city. XVI. — ASCENT OF MOUNT HOR. We ascended the pass early in the morning ; and leaving the 1 Isaiah xxi. 11. “ He calleth to me nit of Seir.” PENINSULA OF SINAI. 153 camels and tents to go on to Petra, turned to climb the summit of Mount Hor. It is one of the very few spots connected with the wanderings of the Israelites, which admits of no reasonable doubt.1 There Aaron died in the presence of Moses and Eleazer ; there he was buried ; and there Eleazer was invested with the priesthood in his stead. The mountain is marked far and near by its double top, which rises like a huge castellated building from a lower base, and on one of these is the Mohammedan chapel erected out of the remains of some earlier and more sumptuous building, over the supposed grave. There was nothing of interest within ; only the usual marks of Mussulman devotion, ragged shawls, ostrich eggs, and a few beads. These were in the upper chamber. The great High-priest, if his body be really there, rests in a subterraneous vault below, hewn out of the rock, and in a niche now cased over with stone, wood, and plaster. Erom the flat roof of the chapel we overlooked his last view • — that view which was to him what Pisgah was to his brother. To us the northern end was partly lost in haze ; but we saw all the main points on which his eye must have rested. He looked over the valley of the ’Arabah, countersected by its hundred watercourses, and beyond, over the white mountains of the wilderness they had so long traversed ; and at the northern edge of it, there must have been visible the heights through which the Israelites had vainly attempted to force their way into the Promised Land. This was the western view. Close around him on the east were the rugged mountains of Edom, and far along the horizon the wide downs of Mount Seir, through which the passage had been denied by the wild tribes of Esau who hunted over their long slopes. A dreary moment, and a dreary scene, — such at any rate it must have seemed to the aged priest. The peculiarity of the view was the combination of wide extension with the scarcity of marked features and points on which to observe. Petra itself is entirely shut out by the intervening rocks. But the survey of the Desert on one side, and the mountains of Edom on the other, is complete ; and of these last the great feature is the mass of red bald-headed sandstone rocks, intersected, not by valleys, but by deep seams. In the heart of these rocks, itself invisible, lies Petra. Beyond spreads the range of yellow downs, tufted with vegetation, now called Sherah. And now to Petra let U3 O J descend. 1 The proofs of the identity of “ Gebel Uaroun,” as it is now called, with Mount Hor, axe (1). The situation “ by the coast of the land of Edom,” where it is emphatically u the mountain” (llor). Numb. xx. 23. (2). The statement of Josephus (Ant. IV., iv. 7), that Aaron’s death occurred on a high mountain en¬ closing Petra. (3). The modern name and traditional sanctity of the mountain as connected with Aaron’s tomb. 154 SINAI AND PALESTINE. XVII. — PETRA.1 The first thing that struck me in turning out of the ’Arabah up the defiles that lead to Petra was, that we had suddenly left the Desert. Instead of the absolute nakedness of the Sinaitic valleys, wo found ourselves walking on grass, sprinkled with flowers, and the level platforms on each side were filled with sprouting corn ; and this continues through the whole descent to Petra, and in Petra itself. The next peculiarity was when, after having left the summit of the pass, or after descending from Mount Hor, we found ourselves insen¬ sibly encircled with rocks of deepening and deepening red. Red in¬ deed, even from a distance, the mountains of “ Red” Edom appear, but not more so than the granite of Sinai ; and it is not till one is actually in the midst of them, that this red becomes crimson, and that the wonder of the Petra colours fully displays itself. Two mistakes seem to me to have been made in the descriptions. All the describers have spoken of bright hues — scarlet, sky-blue, orange, etc. Had they taken courage to say instead, u dull crimson, indigo, yellow, and purple,” their account would have lost something in effect, but gained much in truth. Nor really would it have lost much any way. For the colours, though not gaudy, — or rather because they are not gaudy, — are gorgeous. You are never, or nardly ever, startled by them. You could never mistake them for anything else but nature ; they seem the natural clothing of the place. Another mistake is, that the descriptions lead you — or, at least, they led me — to suppose that wherever you turn at Petra, you see nothing but these wonderful colours. I have already said, that from a distance one hardly sees them at all. One sees the general contrast only of the red sandstone cliffs standing out against the white limestone and yellow downs, which form their higher back¬ ground. But when one comes in face of the very cliffs themselves, then they are, as I have said, a gorgeous, though dull crimson, streaked and suffused with purple. These are the two predominant colours, — “ ferruginous,” perhaps, they may best be called, — and on the face of the rocks the only colours. But one striking feature of the whole scenery is, that not merely the excavations and buildings, but the rocks themselves, are in a constant state of mouldering decay. You can scarcely tell where excavation begins and decay ends. It is in these caves, and roofs, and recesses, whether natural 1 I have to apologise for adding another journey to be altogether omitted ; and account of a place so well known as Petra two or three points in the previous now is, through the descriptions of Burck- descriptions seemed to me to require hardt, Dr. Robinson, and Miss Martineau. corrections or additions. But it was too important a stage in the PENINSULA OF SINAI. 155 or artificial — very numerous it is true, but not seen till you are close within them — that there appears that extraordinary veining and intermixture of colours, in which yellow and blue are occasionally added — ribbon -like — to red and purple. Of the three comparisons usually made — mahogany, raw-flesh, and watered silk — the last is certainly the best. This brings me to the third great feature of Petra — its ex¬ cavations. Here again the same error has been committed. I had expected to be surrounded with rocks honey-combed with caves. By no means. I do not doubt, that by calculation of all in the out¬ lying ravines, you might count up thousands ; but in the most populous part that I could select, I could not number in one view more than fifty, and generally much fewer. It is their immense ramifications, rather than their concentrated effect, that is remark¬ able, and this of course can no more be seen in one view than all the streets of London. The larger excavations are temples ; the others may be divided between modern (y. e., Roman or Arab) tombs, and Edomite or Horite' habitations. Round about, or rather east and west, are masses of crumbling rock, their faces immediately above this mass of ruins cut out into holes, and sometimes with Grecian facades. Of these, the most remarkable are in the eastern clifts, where four of these great excavations, apparently not tombs or houses, but temples, stand close together with tiers of pillars one above another, giving to that cliff an embattled appearance, which architecturally speaking, is the only remarkable feature in the basin of Petra,’ taken by itself. .... But Petra, that is, the mere site of the city, is by far the least striking part of Petra. There any one, I think, with highly-raised expectations will feel disappointment. In the two points I am going to describe, I believe no one. Eirst there is the famous defile which, in ancient times, was the chief — the only usual — approach to Petra ; and I feel so strongly the loss of interest which Petra suffers by the present gradual entrance, that I would strongly recommend all travellers — even at the cost of another day’s journey — to come round by this eastern approach, through which, though we only saw it reversed, I mean now to con¬ duct you, as if entering from the east. You descend from those wide downs and those white cliffs which I have before described as forming the background of the Red City when seen from the west, and before you opens a deep cleft between rocks of red sandstone rising perpendicularly to the height of one, two, or three hundred feet. This is the Stk, or u cleft;” through this flows — if one may use the expression — the dry torrent, which, rising 1 Tho name of the “ Horim,” who preceded the Edomites (Pout. ii. 22) signifies, 4 dwellers in caves.” 156 SINAI AND PALESTINE. in the mountains half an hour hence, gives the name by which alone Petra is now known amongst the Arabs — Wady Mousa. uFor,” — so Sheykh Mohammed tells us — uas surely as Gebel Ilarun (the Mountain of Aaron) is so called from the burial-place of Aaron, is Wady Mousa (the Valley of Moses) so called from the cleft being made by the rod of Moses when he brought the stream through into the valley beyond.” It is, indeed, a place worthy of the scene, and one could long to believe it. Follow me, then, down this mag¬ nificent gorge — the most magnificent, beyc nd all doubt, which I have ever beheld. The rocks are almost precipitous, or rather, they would be, if they did not, like their brethren in all this region, overlap, and crumble, and crack, as if they would crash over you. The gorge is about a mile- and a half long, and the opening of the cliffs at the top is throughout almost as narrow as the narrowest part of the defile of Pfeffers, which, in dimensions and form, it more resembles than any other of my acquaintance. At its very first entrance you pass under the arch which, though greatly broken, still spans the chasm — meant apparently to indicate the approach to the city. You pass under this along the bed of the torrent, now rough with stones, but once a regularly paved road like the Appian Way, the pavement still remaining at intervals in the bed of the stream — the stream, meanwhile, which now has its own wild way, being then diverted from its course along troughs hewn in the rock above, or conducted through earthenware pipes, still traceable. These, and a few niches for statues now gone, are the only traces of human hand. What a sight it must have been, when all these were perfect ! A road, level and smooth, running through these tremendous rocks, and the blue sky just visible above, the green caper plant and wild ivy hanging in festoons over the heads of the travellers as they wind along, the flowering oleander fringing then, as now, this marvellous highway like the border of a garden-walk. You move on ; and the ravine, and with it the road, — -and with the road in old times the caravans of India, — winds as if it were the most flexible of rivers, instead of being in truth a rent through a mountain wall. In this respect, in its sinuosity, it differs from any other like gorge I ever saw. The peculiarity is, perhaps, occasioned by the singularly friable character of the cliffs, the same character that has caused / the thousand excavations beyond ; and the effect is, that instead of the uniform character of most ravines, you are constantly turning round corners, and catching new lights and new aspects, in which to view the cliffs themselves. They are, for the most part, deeply red, and when you see their tops emerging from the shade and glowing in the sunshine, I could almost forgive the exaggeration that calls them scarlet. But in fact they are of the darker hues which in the shadow amount almost to black, and such is their PENINSULA OF SINAI. 157 »olour at this point to which I have brought you, after a mile or more through the defile — the cliffs* over-arching in their narrowest contraction — when, suddenly through the narrow opening left be¬ tween the two dark walls of another turn of the gorge, you see a pale pink front of pillars and sculptured figures closing your view from top to bottom. You rush towards it, you find yourself at the end of the defile, and in the presence of an excavated temple, which remains almost entirely perfect between the two flanks of dark rock out of which it is hewn ; its preservation, and its peculiarly light and rosy tint being alike due to its singular position facing the ravine or rather wall of rock, through which the ravine issues, and thus sheltered beyond any other building (for one may so call it) from the wear and tear of weather, which has effaced, though not defaced, the features, and tanned the complexion, of all the other temples. This I only saw by degrees, coming upon it from the west ; but to the travellers of old times, and to those who, like Burckhardt in modern times, came down the defile, not knowing what they were to see, and meeting with this as the first image of the Red City, I cannot conceive anything more striking. There is nothing of peculiar grace or grandeur in the temple itself — (the Khazne, or Treasury, it is called) — it is of the most debased style of Roman architecture ; but under the circumstances, I almost think one is more startled by finding in these wild and impracticable mountains a production of the last effort of a decaying and over-refined civilisa¬ tion, than if it were something which, by its better and simpler taste, mounted more nearly to tire source where Art and Nature were one. Probably any one who entered Petra this way, would be so electrified by this apparition (which I cannot doubt to have been evoked there purposely, as you would place a fountain or an obelisk at the end of an avenue) as to have no eyes to behold or sense to appreciate anything else. Still I must take you to the end. The Sik, though it opens here, yet contracts once more, and it is in this last stage that those red and purple variegations, which I have before described, appear in their most gorgeous views ; and here also begins, what must have been properly the Street of Tombs, the Appian Way of Petra. Here they are most numerous, the rock is honey¬ combed with cavities of all shapes and sizes, and through these you advance till the defile once more opens, and you see — strange and unexpected sight ! — with tombs above, below, and in front, a Greek Theatre (like that of Tusculum) hewn out of the rock, its tiers of seats literally red and purple alternately, in the native rock. Once more the defile closes with its excavations, and once more opens in the area of Petra itself; the torrent-bed passing now through absolute desolation and silence, though strewn with the fragments which 158 SINAI AND PALESTINE. show that you once entered on a splendid and busy city gathered along its rocky banks, as along the quays of some great northern river. The Sik is unquestionably the great glory of Petra ; but there is another point, on the other side, which struck me very much also, and which, if thoroughly explored, would, I think, be the most instructive and interesting spot in the place.1 You turn up a torrent - bed in the western cliffs (for torrent-beds from all sides pour down into this area in the heart of the hills), but soon leave it to ascend a staircase hewn out of the rocks, steps not absolutely continuous now, though probably they once were ; broad steps glowing with the native colours, which conduct you through mag¬ nificent rocks, and along the banks of an almost second Sik, high up into the vast cluster of rocks which face Mount Hor on the north. This staircase is the most striking instance of what you see everywhere. Wherever your eyes turn along the excavated sides of the rocks you see steps, often leading to nothing; or to something which has crumbled away ; often with their first steps worn away, so, that they are now inaccessible ; sometimes as mere ornaments in the facades, but everywhere seen even more than the caves themselves. High up in these rocks, withdrawn like the Khazno between two gigantic walls of cliff, with a green platform before it, is another temple of the same kind, though not of the same singular colour. In fact, it has the appearance of yellow stone, but in form it is more perfect than the Khazno, and its whole effect is so extremely modern, that I cannot better describe its impression on me than by comparing it to a London church of the last century. That is to say, you must imagine a London church, of the most debased style of ornament and taste, transplanted into a mountain nook as wild and solitary as the Splugen. I call it solitary — but it was not always so. The Arabic name, El-Deir, — u the Convent,” — implies their belief that it was a Christian church. Crosses are carved within it. The Sinaitic inscriptions are carved on the steps by which it is approached. Ruins lie above, below, and around it. Everything, in short, tends to indicate that this was a specially sacred spot, and that it was regarded so by Christians afterwards. KADESH. With the departure from Sinai, or at least from Ilaze- roth, the geographical interest of the Israelite history almost ceases till the arrival in the table-lands of Moab, and the first beginning of the conquest. Not only is 1 See p. 1 63. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 159 the general course of their march wrapt in great obscurity, but even if we knew it, the events are not generally of a kind which would receive any special illustration from the scenes in which they occurred. .No attempt shall here he made to track their course in detail. It is possible that some future traveller may dis¬ cover the stations recorded in the itinerary of the 33rd chapter of the book of Numbers. At present none has been ascertained with any likelihood of truth, unless we accept the doubtful identification of Hazeroth with Hade - rah 1 of which I have already spoken. All that is clear is that they marched northward from Mount Sinai, pro¬ bably over the plateau of the Till — which seems to be designated as “ the wilderness of Paran” — then that they descended into the ’Arabah — designated, apparently, as “ the wilderness of Zin.” Thence, on the refusal of the king of Edom to let them pass through his territory, they moved southward, encamped on the shores of the Gulf of ’Akaba, at Ezion-Geber, and then turned the corner of the Edomite mountains, at their southern extremity, and entered the table-lands of Moab at the “ torrent of the willows” (“ the brook Eared”) at the south-east end of the Dead Sea. In this general obscurity, one place stands out pro¬ minently. There can be no question, that next to Sinai, the most important of all the resting-places of the Children of Israel is Kadesh.2 It is the only one dignified by the name of “ a city.” Its very name awakens our attention — the “Holy Place” — the same name by which Jerusa¬ lem itself is still called in Arabic, “ El-Khods.” It is A list of possible identifications may¬ be seen in the Descriptive Geography of Palestine by Rabbi Joseph Schwartze, p. 212—214. 2 Although Reland (Palsestina, p. 115, 3A .s probably mistaken in supposing „hat there were two halting-places of Israel called Kadesh, yet it docs appear that in Gen. xvi. 14; xx. 1 ; Josh. xv. 23, another Kadesh may be intended on the northern plateau of the Till ; and, if io, this may be the one found by Mr. Howlands (Williams’ Holy City, vol. i. App. p. 466), under the same name, in a place corresponding with those indica¬ tions, but too far northward and west¬ ward to be identified with Kadesh- Barnea. The fact of the affix of “ Barnea” may indicate that there was another. Whether Israel was twice at Kadesh seems extremely doubtful. The difficulty of reducing the second part of the wanderings of Israel to distinct chronological order, will bo evident to any one who compares Numb, xxxiii. 30 — 36 with Deut. x. 6 — I. 160 SINAI AND PALESTINE. probably the old oracular “ Spring of Judgment/’ mentioned as existing in the earliest times of Canaanite history / as if, like Mount Sinai itself, it had an ancient sanctity before the host of Israel encamped within its precincts. The encampment there is also distinct in character from any other in the wilderness, except the stay at Sinai or perhaps at Rephidim. The exact time is not given ; but it is stated generally that “ they abode in Kadesh many days.”1 2 They were there at least forty days,3 during the absence of the spies. In its neighbourhood, two bat¬ tles were fought with the southern Canaanites — one a defeat, the other a victory.4 There arose the demand for water, which gave to the place its new name of Meribah- Kadesh ;5 there also the rebellion of Korah, and the death of the sister and the brother of Moses. All these indications compel us to look for some more definite locality than can be found in the scattered springs and pools in the midst of the Desert, with which travellers have usually endeavoured to identify it — such, for exam¬ ple, as ’Ain El-Weibeh, on the eastern side of the ’Arabah, which Dr. Robinson selected as the spot, and which, but for the reasons just given, would not be an inappropriate scene. The geographical notices of its situation are unfortu¬ nately too slight to be of much service. Yet thus much they fix, that it was 66 in the wilderness of Zin,”6 that it was u on the 4 edge’ of the border of Edom”1 — that it was 1 Gen. xiv. I. “ ’En-Mishpat (the spring of judgment), which is Kadesh.” Compare for the combination, Exod. xv. 25, “ He made for them (at Marah) a statute and a ‘judgment1 (mishpat).” Jerome, however, distinguishes Kadesh- 'er Mishpat from Kadesh-Barnea, making tlu former to be a spot in the Valley of Gerar, well known in his days as Beer- dan, — “ the well of the judge.” De Loc. Heb. voc. Puteus judicis. 2 Deut. i. 46. 3 Judith v. 14. 4 Deut. xxviii. 2. 5 Deit. xxxii. 51. 6 Numb, xxvii. 14 ; xxxiii. 36 ; Deut. xxxii. 51. In one passage, Kadesh a}> pears to be placed in “ the wilderness of Paran.” Numb. xiii. 26. The spies re¬ turned “ unto the wilderness of Paran to Kadesh” (cf. xii. 16). It is possible that the other Kadesh (before noticed) may be here meant. But, however it is explained, a passage of this kind, — with the liability to mistakes which seems co have beset the whole text of the wander¬ ings, — cannot avail against the emphatic contrast elsewhere drawn between the two wildernesses of Paran and of Ziu, and the close connexion of Kadesh-Barneu with Zin. 7 The ‘edge,’ Numb. xx. 16, is the same word as is used in Numb, xxxiii 37. of Mount Hor. To represent Edom as extending west of the ’Arabah in the time of Moses is an anachronism, bor¬ rowed from the times after the Captivity, when the Edomites, driven from their ancient seats, occupied the “south” of Judea as far as Hebron ; 1 Macc. v. 65. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 161 near “ Mount Hor,” — that it was at the southern point to which the territory of Judah afterwards reached. Is there any place to which these indications correspond ? Possibly, if the country were thoroughly explored, there might he found several in the deserted cities of Edom, known only to the very few travellers who have entered Edom by the Wady Ithm. At present one only is known, and that is Petra. An oasis of vegetation in the desert hills ; scenery only second in grandeur to that where the Law was delivered ; a city of which the present ruins are modern, but of which the earlier vestiges reach back to the remotest antiquity • — these are some of the points which give Petra a claim to be considered as the original sanctuary of the Idumean wilderness. It is moreover one of the few facts localised by anything like an authentic tradition, — in this case preserved by Josephus, the Talmudists, Eusebius,1 and Jerome,2 — that Kadesh was either identical, or closely connected with Petra. With this the existing names (though capable of another origin) remarkably harmonise. The mountain which overhangs the valley of Petra has been known as far back as the knowledge of travellers extends, as the 66 mountain of Aaron.” The basin of Petra is known to the Arabs by no other name than “ the Valley of Moses.” The great ravine through which the torrent is admitted into the valley, is called “ the Cleft of Moses” — in distinct reference to the stroke of the rod of Moses.3 1 Josephus (Ant. IV., iv. 7) speaks of Mount Hor as lying above Arke, which he identifies with Petra. Arke is evidently the same word (perhaps with the prefix of ’Ar for “ mountain” — as in Armageddon) as “ Rekem,” the Syriac name for Petra (Jerome, De Loc. Heb. voc. Petra and Rekem) ana the Talmudist name for Kadesh, — see also the Syriac and Arabic versions, — derived (says Jerome, voc. Rekem, and Josephus, Ant. IV, vii. 1) from the Midianite chief Rokan. Abulfeda (Tabula Syriae, p. 11) speaks of Ar-Ra- kem as near A1 Balka (the Arabic name of the country east of the Ghor), and remarkable for the houses cut in the rock. There may bo other places on the east ol the Ghor to which this description would apply, but none to which it would so well apply as Petra. The Targums of Onkelos, Jonathan, and Jerusalem, cab Kadesh-Barnea “Rekem Giah,” — ‘of the ravine,’ probably alluding to the Sik. See Schwarze, p. 23, 24, who has, how¬ ever, his own explanations. 2 “ Cades Barnea in deserto, quae con- jungitur civitati Peirce in Arabia.” Ho notices the tomb of Miriam as still shown there, not that of Aaron. (De Loc. Heb.) 3 See p. 156. This also agrees with Jerome’s descriptions of Mount Hor. “ Or Mg ns, in quo mortuus est Aaron, juxta civitatem Petr am, ubi usque qrcesentem diem ostenditur rupes qud percussd magnas aquas populo dedit. Do Loc. Heb. voc. Or. 1 G2 SINAI AND PALESTINE. In accordance with these confirmations are the inci¬ dental expressions of the narrative itself. The word always used for 66 the rock” of Kadesh,1 in describing the second supply of water, is “ sela ” or “ cliff” in contradistinction to the usual word “ tzur ” — a roclc , which is no less invariably applied to “ the rock of Iloreb — the scene of the first supply.2 It may be difficult to determine the relative meaning of the two words. But it is almost certain that of the two, “ sela ,” like our word “ cliff,” is the grander and more abrupt feature ; which is of importance as excluding from the claimants to the name of Kadesh, such spots as ’Ain El- Weibeh, where the rocks are merely stony shelves of three or four feet in height. But the name “ Sela” is also the same as that by which in later times the place now called “ Petra” was designated. As the southern boundary of Judah is described as reaching over the “ascent of scorpions” to Kadesh, so the Amorite boundary is de¬ scribed as “ from the ascent of scorpions, from ‘ the cliff’ (sela), and upwards.”3 “Amaziah took ‘the cliff’ (sela) by war.” “ Other ten thousand did the children of Judah carry away captive, and brought them up to the top of 6 the cliff’ (sela), and cast them down from the top of ‘ the cliff’ (sela), that they were all broken into pieces.”4 The name of Kadesh almost entirely disappears from the Sacred Books before the name of Sela appears, and it is therefore possible that the latter, taken from its natural peculiarity, may have been given to it by the Edomites or later settlers, after the recollections of its earlier sanctity had passed away. That a sanctuary of this kind should have been gradually transformed into an emporium and thoroughfare of commerce, as was the case with Petra during the Homan empire, would be one out of many instances with which oriental and ancient history abounds. 1 Numb. xx. 8 — 11. See Appendix 3 Exod. xvii. 6. 3 Joshua xv. 3 ; Judg. i. 36. 4 2 Kings xiv. 1 ; 2 Cliron. xxv. 12. The use of this word in these passages makes it probable that; the denunciation of Psalm cxxxvii. 9, is aimed not against the “ daughter of Babylon,” but against “the children of Edom.”— “ Happy shall he be that rewardeth thee as thou hast served us; happy shall he be that taketh and dasheth thy little ones, against th« 1 dill'’ (sela)." PENINSULA OF SINAL 103 If there be any ground for this conclusion, Petra assumes a new interest. Its rock-hewn caves may have served in part for the dwellings, in part for the graves of the Israelites ; it is dignified as the closing scene of the life both of Miriam and Aaron ; its sanctity may account lor the elevation and seclusion of some of its edifices, perched high among almost inaccessible rocks, and evi¬ dently the resort of ancient pilgrims ; its impressive scenery well accords with the language of the ancient hymns of Israel, in which Kadesh with the surrounding rocks of Edom is almost elevated to the rank of a second Sinai : 66 Lord, when thou wentest out of JSeir, when thou marchedst out of the field of Edom”1 — 66 God came from Teman , and the Holy One from Mount Par and'1 u He brought them to Mount Sinai and Kadesli-barnea. ”3 “ The Lord came from Sinai, and rose up from Mount Seir unto them ; he shined forth from Mount Paran, and He came with ten thousands of saints”4 (if wTe take the Hebrew as followed in the authorised Version — but more probably with the Septuagint) — “ with the ten thousands of Kadesli ;” or (perhaps more probably still, with Ewald5), from Meribah-Kadesh .” And if any point is to be selected in Petra, as especially the seat of this primeval sanctuary, it is that which I have just described, commonly known by the name of the “ Heir,” or “ Convent.” Its present form is of the same modern character as that which deprives all these monuments of any deep interest — a facade, with a vast urn on the summit ; the interior, one large hall. But its situation and its accompaniments indicate the great importance, if not sanctity, with which it was invested at some period by the inhabitants of Petra. Removed as it is from the sight not only of the town, but of the numerous sepulchres or excavations with which the cliffs which surround the town are perforated, it must have had some special purpose of its own. The long ascent by which it is approached, mostly along the edge of a precipitous ravine, is carefully 1 Judg. v. 4. 2 Ilabak. iii. 3. 3 Dout. xxxiii. 2. 4 Judo 14. 5 Gosekiclite, 2nd oclit., ii. 257. 164 SINAI AND PALESTINE. hewn, wherever the rocks admit, into a continuous stair¬ case, of which the steps are in more than one instance marked by the unknown inscriptions in the so-called Sinai tic character. The walls of the interior of the Deir itself, as well as the steps, are sculptured with the usual accompaniments of these inscriptions, — crosses and figures of the wild goat, or ibex. Immediately opposite is a hill, with a large chamber below, partly natural, partly artificial ; containing a sculptured niche at the end of it for a statue ; and bases of columns lie strewed around. A staircase leads to the roof of the Deir, which is again inscribed with a rude character ; and on the rocky platform with which the roof communicates,1 is a circle of hewn stones, and again still beyond is a solitary cell hewn in an isolated cliff, and joined to this platform by a narrow isthmus of rock. In the absolute dearth of records of Petra, it is impos¬ sible to decide the reason of the selection of this lonely spot for a sanctuary, thus visited, as it would appear, by the same pilgrims, who have left their traces so often elsewhere in the Peninsula. Yet its situation inevitably suggests some relation to Mount TIor. From the threshold, indeed, of the Deir, Mount Ilor is not visible.2 But the whole of the upper story, and the roof — to which, as I have said, a staircase ascends as if for the express purpose of commanding a wider view, — both look upon the sacred mount of the High Priest’s tomb, and are seen from thence. It is in fact the only building of Petra included in the view from Mount Ilor, through which alone, in its deep seclusion, it was first revealed to the eyes of travellers. Is it too much to suppose that this point and Mount Ilor were long regarded as the two sacred spots of Petra ; that the scene of the death and sepulture of Aaron was designedly fixed in view of this, the innermost sanctuary of the Holy Place of 66 Kadesh that this sanctity was retained through the successive changes of Pagan and Christian worship ; and that the pilgrims of the Desert 1 This last feature I derive from Miss Martineau (Eastern Life, 2nd ed., p. 410), who is the only person who has left a record of its existence. From an oversight I omitted to see it on the spot. 2 By a not unnatural confusion of an intervening mountaiu with Mount ilor, Dr. Robinson (ii. 536) has asserted tho contrary. It is one of the very few inac¬ curacies he has committed. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 165 .n Minted these time-worn steps, and traced their inscrip¬ tions upon the rock, on their way to the only spot, whence they could see the grave of Aaron ? XVIII. — APPROACH TO PALESTINE The day of leaving Petra was occupied in the passage of the mountains into the Arabah ; the next in crossing the Arabah ; on the other side we came to Ain El-Weibch — three springs with palms under the low limestone cliffs which form the boundary of the mass of the mountains of the Till. This spot Dr. Robinson supposes to be Kadesh. It was at Akaba that Mohammed, stretching out his hands in prayer after a few moments of silence, exclaimed, pointing over the palm trees, “There is the new moon,” — the new moon which gave me a thrill no new moon had ever wakened before, for, if all pros¬ pered, its fulness would be that of the Paschal moon at Jerusalem. At Akaba, too, we first came within the dominions of David and Solomon. And now we were already on the confines of the tribe of Judah, and the next day we crossed the difficult high pass of Safeh, thought to be that through which the Israelites were repulsed by the Amorites.1 Unfortunately a thick haze hung over the mount¬ ains of Edom, so that we saw them no more again. It was on Palm Sunday that we descended on the other side, and from this time the approach to Palestine fairly begun. How the name of Aaron rang with a new sound in the first and second lessons of that evening after the sight of Mount Ilor. The Approach to Palestine — nothing can be more gradual. There is no special point at which you can say the Desert is ended and the Land of Promise is begun. Yet there is an interest in that solemn and peaceful melting away of one into the other which I cannot describe. It was like the striking passage in Thalaba describing the descent of the mountains, with the successive beginnings of vegetation and warmth. The first change was perhaps what one would least expect — the disappearance of trees. The last palms were those we left at Ain El-Weibeh. Palm Sunday was the day which shut us out, I believe, with few rare exceptions, from those beautiful creations of the Nile and the Desert springs — Judaea knows them no more.2 The next day we saw the last of our well-known Acacia — that consecrated and venerable tree of the Burning Bush and of the Tabernacle ; and then, for the first time in the whole journey, we had to take our mid-day meal without shade. But meanwhile every other sign of life was astir. On 1 Numb, xiv 45; xxi. 1; Deut. i. 44. gards Palestine generally. See Chapter * This is somewhat overstated as re- II. ix. SINAI AND PALESTINE, descending from the Pass of Safeh, one observed that the little shrubs, which had more or less sprinkled the whole ’Arabah. were more thickly studded ; the next day they gave a gray covering to the whole hill-side, and the little tufts of grass threw in a general tint of green before unknown. Then the red anemones of Petra reappeared, and then here and there patches of corn. As we advanced, this thin covering became deeper and fuller ; and daisies and hyacinths were mixed with the blood-drops of the anemones. Signs of ancient habitations appeared in the ruins of forts and remains, which might have been either Canaanitish temples or Christian churches, on the hill-sides ; wells, too, deeply built with marble casings round their mouths, worn by the ropes of ages. East and west, under a long line of hills which bounded it to the north, ran a wide plain in which verdure, though not universal, was' still predominant. Up this line of hills our Tuesday’s course took us, and still the marks of ruins increased on the liill-tops, and long courses of venerable rock or stone, the boundaries or roads, or both, of ancient inhabitants ; and the anemones ran like fire through the mountain glens ; and deep glades of corn, green and delicious to the eye, spread right and left before us. Most striking anywhere would have been this protracted approach to land after that wide desert sea — these seeds and plants, and planks, as it were, drifting to meet us. But how doubly striking, when one felt in one’s inmost soul, that this was the entrance into the Holy Land — “ Who is this that cometh from Edom, with dyed garments from Bozra ?” Everything told us that we were approaching tho sacred frontier. In that solitary ride — for all desert rides are more or less solitary, — through this peaceful passing away of death into life, there was indeed no profanation of the first days of Passion Week. That wide plain of which I spoke, with its ruins and walls, was the wilderness of Beersheba; with wells such as those for which Abraham and Isaac struggled ; at which, it may be, they had watered their flocks ; the neutral ground between the Desert and the cultivated region which those shepherd-patriarchs would most naturally choose for their wanderings, before the idea of a more permanent home had yet dawned upon them. That long line of hills was the beginning of “ the hill country of Judaea,” and when we began to ascend it, the first answer to our inquiries after the route told that it was “ Carmel,” not the more famous mountain of that name, but that on which Nabal fed his flocks ; and close below its long ranges, was the hill and ruin of Ziph close above, the hill of u Maon.” That is to say, we were now in the heart of the wild country where David wandered from Saul like 1 it is these which, are called “ Blood-drops of Chris 1.” See Chapter II. p. 207. 4 1 Sam. xxiii. 14, 24; xxv. 2. PENINSULA OF SINAI. 167 those very “ partridges in the mountains,”1 which we saw abounding in all directions. And in the extensive views which the tops of these bills commanded on the south, there was the Ions range of the Till, — faithful to the last to that same horizontal character which we saw from Suez. — and Serbal ; and to the east, towering high into the hazy sky, what looked like the Alps of Moab : and between us and them a jagged line of lower hills, the rocks of En-gedi ; and, in the misty depths wffiich parted these nearer and those further mountains, there needed no guide to tell that there lay, invisible as yet, the Dead Sea. From these heights, by gradual ascent and descent we went on. With Ziph the more desolate region ended. The valleys now began, at least in our eyes, almost literally “ to laugh and sing.” Greener and greener did they grow — the shrubs, too, shot up above that stunted growth. At last, on the summits of further hills, lines of spreading trees appeared against the sky. Then came ploughed fields and oxen. Lastly, a deep and wide recess opened in the hills — towers and minarets appeared through the gap, which gradually unfolded into the city of “the Friend of God” — this is its Arabic name : far up on the right ran a wide and beautiful upland valley, all partitioned into gardens and fields, green fig-trees and cherry-trees, and the vineyards — famous through all ages ; and far off, gray and beautiful as those of Tivoli, swept down the western slope the olive- groves of Hebron. Most startling of all was the hum through the air — hitherto “that silent air” which I described during our first encampment, but which had grown familiar as the sounds of Lon¬ don to those who live constantly within their range — the hum, at first, of isolated human voices and the lowing of cattle, rising up from those various orchards and corn-fields, and then a sound, which, to our ears, seemed like that of a mighty multitude, but which was only the united murmur of the population of the little town which we now entered at its southern end. They had come out to look at some troops which were going off to capture a refrac¬ tory chief, and they still remained sitting on the mounds — old men, women, and children, in their various dresses, which, after the monotonous brown rags of the Bedouins, looked gay and bright — sitting, with their hands shading their faces from the rays of the afternoon sun, to see the long passage of the caravan, guarded on each side by the officers of the Quarantine. High above us, on the eastern height of the town — which lies nestled, Italian-like, on the slope of a ravine — rose the long black walls and two stately minarets of that illustrious mosque, one of the four sanctuaries of the Mahometan world, sacred in the eyes of all the world besides, 1 1 Sam. xxvi. 20. place of John the Baptist. See Chapter * This was on the hills of Dhorayeh II. ix. and of u Juta,” the probable birth- 8 El Khalil 168 SINAI AND PALESTINE. which covers the Cave of Machpelah, the last resting place of Abra¬ ham, Isaac,1 and Jacob . We passed on by one of those two ancient reservoirs, where King David hanged the murderers of his rival,2 up a slope of green grass, broken only by tombs and flocks of sheep, to the high gates of the Quarantine, which closed upon us, and where we are now imprisoned for the next three days, but with that glorious view of Hebron before us day and night. And now the second stage of our tour is finished. XIX.— RECOLLECTIONS OF THE FIRST DAY IN PALESTINE. Let me say briefly what has chiefly impressed me during that first day in Palestine. After all the uncertainty of the desert topo¬ graphy, it was quite startling, though I knew it beforehand, to find the localities so absolutely authentic, to hear the names of Carmel, Maon, Ziph, shouted out in answer to my questions from our Bedouin guides, and from the ploughmen in the fields, who knew no more of David’s wanderings than of those of Ulysses. And now I am in Hebron, looking on the site of a sepulchre whose genuineness has never yet been questioned, and to that with equal certainty is to succeed Bethlehem, and to that Jeru¬ salem. With this, how much of special localities may be spared again and again.3 Then I am struck with the vast number and extent and massiveness of the ruins of the deserted cities, each on its mountain height, like those of Italy. I had expected mere fragments of stones — I find solid walls, columns, towers. It is true they are all ascribed to Christian times. But any way, they give a notion of what the country was. And I am struck by what is also noticed by Miss Martineau — the western, almost the English, character of the scenery. Those wild uplands of Carmel and Ziph are hardly distinguishable (except by their ruined cities and red anemones) from the Lowlands of Scotland or of Wales; these cultivated valleys of Hebron (except by their olives) from the general features of a rich valley in York¬ shire or Derbyshire. The absence of palms and the presence of daisies greatly contributes to this result, and, added to the contrast of the strange scenery which has been ours for the last month, gives a homelike and restful character to this first entrance which can never be effaced. Lastly, the great elevation of this country above the level of the sea is most forcibly brought out by the journey we have made.4 Erom the moment of leaving the ’Arabah has been almost a continual ascent. We mounted the great Pass of Safeh, * Gen. xlix. 31. on Sacred Geography in ihe Quarterly 2 Sam. iv. 12. Review, March, 1854. 3 For the detailed grounds of the local 4 See Chapter II. p. 198. traditions of Palestine I refer to an Essay PENINSULA OF SINAI. 169 and, having mounted, hardly descended at all — crossed the great table-land of Becrsheba — and then mounted the barrier of the hills of Judah — and thence have been mounting ever since. Hebron is, in fact, only five hundred feet lower than Snowdon. How veil one understands the expression, “They went down into Egypt.” XX. — -HEBRON. This afternoon (Good Friday) we walked, under the guard of the Quarantine, around the western hills of Hebron. There was little to add to the first impressions, except the deep delight of treading the rocks and drinking in the view which had been trodden by the feet and met the eyes of the Patriarchs and Kings. I observed, too, for the first time the enclosures of vineyards with stone walls, and towers at the corners for guards. This was the first exemplification cf the Parables.1 The hills, except where occupied by vineyards and olive-groves, are covered with disjointed rocks and grass, such as brought back dim visions of Wales. In that basin which lay amongst them, wThat well-springs of thought spring up: numerous as those literal vTells and springs with which the whole ground of the hills themselves is penetrated. One that most strangely struck me, was, that here for the first time was heard the great funeral dirge over Abner, whose last echo I had heard in St. Paul’s Cathedral over the grave of the Duke of Wellington. And mar¬ vellous, too, to think that within the massive enclosure of that Mosque, lies, possibly, not merely the last dust of Abraham and Isaac, but the very body — the mummy- — the embalmed bones of Jacob, brought in solemn state from Egypt to this (as it then was) lonely and beautiful spot. And to the east was the height, the tra¬ ditional spot whence Abraham saw the smoke of Sodom rising out of the deep gulf between the hills of Engedi and the mountains of Moab. XX. — APPROACH TO JERUSALEM. In a long line of horses and mules, we quitted Hebron. Two more relics of Abraham we saw after leaving the mosque The first wras the beautiful and massive oak on its greensward, called by his name, and which, with two or three near it, at least enables one to figure the scene in Genesis xviii., and to under¬ stand why it is that the spot was called “ the oaks” (mis¬ translated “the plain”) of Manure.’ Whether this be the exact spot, or even the exact kind of tree, seems doubtful; for the next cbject we saw was one of those solid and vast enclosures, now beginning to bo so familiar ; which seems tc coincide with the account of the place 1 See Chaffers II. and XITL 3 Gen. xiii. 18; xviii. 1. See Chapter II, p. 210. 172 SINAI AND PALESTINE. before us, intercepted all to the east. High beyond towered Hamah (of Benjamin). At last the deep descent of the Valley of Hinnom appeared, opening into that of Jehoshaphat. What struck me as new and unexpected was the rush, so to speak, of both the valleys to the south-west corner of the city. We entered the Jaffa gate about 4.80 P. M. CHAPTER II. PALESTINE. Numbers xiii. 17 — 20. “ And Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan, and said unto them, Get you up this way southward, and go up into the mountain : and see the land, what it is ; and the people that dwelleth therein, whether they be strong or weak, few or many ; and what the land is that they dwell in, whether it be good or bad; and what cities they be that they dwell in, whether in tents, or in strong¬ holds ; and what the land is, whether it be fat or lean, whether there be wood therein or not. And be ye of good courage, and bring of the fruit of the land.” Deut. i. 7. “ Turn you, and take your journey, and go to the mount of the Amor- ites, and unto all the places nigh thereunto, in the ‘desert,’ in the ‘mountain,’ and in the ‘low country,’ and in the south, and by the sea-side, to the land of the Canaanites, and unto Lebanon, unto the great river, the river Euphrates.” SKETCH-MAP OF SYRIA PALESTINE. General features. — The four Rivers of Syria : the Orontes, the Leontes, tho Barada, the Jordan. — General aspect of Palestine. — I. Seclusion of Palestine II. Smallness and narrowness of its territoiy. III. Central situation. IV. Land of ruins. Y. “Land of milk and honey.” YI. variety of climate and structure. YII. Mountainous character. YIII. Scenery: hills and val¬ leys; flowers; trees: cedars, oaks, palms, sycamores. IX. Geological features. 1. Springs and wells; 2. Sepulchres; 3. Caves; 4. Natural Curiosities. X. General conclusion. Between the great plains of Assyria and the shores of the Mediterranean Sea, a high mountain l and Hog? tract is interposed, reaching from the Bay of Issus to the Desert of Arabia. Of this the northern part, which consists of the ranges known in ancient geography under the names of Amanus and Casius, and which includes rather more than half the tract in question, is not within the limits of the Holy Land ; and, though belonging to the same general elevation, is distinguished from the southern division by strongly marked peculiarities, and only enters into the sacred history at a later time, when its connection with any local scenes was too slight to be worth dwelling upon in detail. It is with the southern division that we are now concerned. The range divides itself twice over into two parallel chains. There is first, the main chain of Lebanon, separated by the broad valley commonly called Coele-Syna ; the western mountain reaching its highest ter¬ mination in the northern point of Lebanon ; the eastern, in the southern point of Hermon. This last point — itself the Lebanon. 178 SINAI AND PALESTINE. world) of the Mediterranean, or “ Great Sea ” on the west On the one side of the Jordan these hills present a mass of green pastures and forests melting away, on the east, into the red plains of the Hauran. On the other side they form a mass of gray rock rising above the yellow Desert on the south, hounded on the west by the long green strip of the maritime plain ; cut asunder on the north by the rich plain of Esdraelon ; rising again beyond Esdraelon into the wild scenery of mountain and forest in the roots of Lebanon. Each of these divisions has a name, a character, and, to a certain extent, a history of its own, which will best appear as we proceed. But there are features more or less common to the whole country, especially to that portion of it which has been the chief seat of the national life ; and these, so far as they illustrate the general history, must be now considered. “ The Vine” was “ brought out of Egypt what was the land in which God “ prepared room before it, and caused it to take deep root,” and “ cover the ‘ mountains’ with its shadow” ?* seclusion The peculiar characteristic of the Israelite from the people, whether as contemplated from their own ancient sacred records, or as viewred by their Gentile world. J neighbours, was that they were a nation secluded, set apart, from the rest of the world ; “ haters,” it was said, “ of the human race,” and hated by it in return. Is there anything in the physical structure and situation of their country which agrees with this peculiarity ?2 Look at its boundaries. The most important in this respect will be that on the east. For in that early time, when Palestine first fell to the lot of the chosen people, the East was still the world. The great empires which rose on the plains of Mesopotamia, the cities of the Euphrates and the Tigris, were literally then, what Babylon is metaphorically in the Apocalypse, the rulers and corrupters of all the kingdoms of the earth. Between these great empires and the people of Israel, two obstacles were interposed. The first was the eastern Desert, which formed a barrier in front even of the outposts of Israel — the nomadic ‘ Psalm lxxx. 8 — 10. 2 See Ritter ; Jordan, pp. 1 — 22. SIDON SAREPTi R. litany) TYRE ( ras-el-abiad / (RAS-EN-NAkOra){ JEGEL \HE!SH) ACCHO' 'mmm GENNESARF.tJ C. CARMEL (rzerka) CAESAREA* %/% ELLA .A. mahanajnl P^H GILEAD : SAN UR. g efliBe :coth, (R.ARSUF, tfrGERIW T & ^ ^ - RAMdtH GILEAD SHILOHo; JOPPA, (R. RUBIN] oekpon JC|.|,beo^B cJERiOHO r^HESHBON ITHLEHEMo , ETAM ASCALONi to- ^GATH?a,| gazaJo ENGED! MASAOi ^ABBATtf, REFERENCE TO COLOURS. SHEBAC GRAVEL SAND VEGETATION LIMESTONE BASALT SANDSTONEARED SOU GRANITE PALESTINE PALESTINE. 179 tribes on the east of the Jordan; the second, the vast fissure of the Jordan valley, which must always have acted as a deep trench within the exterior rampart of the Desert and the eastern hills of the Trans-Jordanic tribes. Next to the Assyrian empire in strength and power, superior to it in arts and civilisation, was Egypt. What was there on the southern boundary of Palestine, to secure that “ the Egyptians whom they saw on the shores of the Red Sea, they should see no more again ?” Up to the very frontier of their own land stretched that “ great and terrible wilderness,” which rolled like a sea between the valley of the Nile and the valley of the Jor¬ dan. And this wilderness itself— the platform of the Tih — could be only reached on its eastern side by the tremendous pass of Akaba at the southern, and of S&feh1 at the northern end of the Arabah. On these, the two most important frontiers, the separation was most com¬ plete. The two accessible sides were the west and the north. But the west was only accessible by sea, and when Israel first settled in Palestine, the Mediterranean was not yet the thoroughfare — it was rather the boundary and the terror of the eastern nations. It is true that from the north-western coast of Syria, the Phoenician cities sent forth their fleets. But they were the exception of the world, the discoverers, the first explorers of the unknown depths, — and in their enterprises Israel never joined. In strong contrast, too, with the coasts of Europe, and especially of Greece, Palestine has no indentations, no winding creeks, no deep havens, such as in ancient, even more than in modern times, were necessary for the invitation and .protection of commercial enterprise. One long line, broken only by the bay of Acre, containing only three bad harbours, Joppa, Acre, and Caipha — and the last unknown in ancient times — is the inhospitable front that Palestine opposed to the western world. On the northern frontier the ranges of Lebanon formed two not insignificant n imparts. But the gate between them was open, and 1 See Chapter 1., Part ii pp. 150, 165, 180 SINAI AND PALESTINE. through the long valley of Coele-Syria, the hosts of Syrian and Assyrian conquerors accordingly poured. These were the natural fortifications of that vineyard which was “ hedged round about” with tower and trench, sea and desert, against the “ boars of the wood,” and “ the beast of the field.” smaiinoss II. In Palestine, as in Greece, every traveller is nesVoV'ter- struck with the smallness of the territory. He is ntory. surprised, even after all that he has heard, at pass¬ ing, in one long day, from the capital of Judaea to that of Samaria ; or at seeing, within eight hours, three such spots, as Hebron, Bethlehem, and Jerusalem. The breadth of the country from the Jordan to the sea is rarely more than fifty miles. Its length from Dan to Beersheba is about a hundred and eighty miles. The time is now gone by, when the grandeur of a country is measured by its size, or the diminutive extent of an illustrious people can otherwise than enhance the magnitude of what they have done. The ancient taunt, however, and the facts which suggested it, may still illustrate the feeling which appears in their own records. The contrast between the littleness of Palestine and the vast extent of the empires which hung upon its northern and southern skirts, is rarely absent from the mind of the Prophets and Psalmists. It helps them to exalt their sense of the favour of God towards their land by magnifying their little hills and dry torrent-beds into an equality with the giant hills of Lebanon and Hermon and the sea-like rivers of Meso¬ potamia.1 It also fosters the consciousness, that they were not always to be restrained within these earthly barriers — a The place is too strait for me ; give me place where I may dwell.” Nor is it only the smallness, but the narrowness, of the territory which is remarkable. From almost every high point in the country, its whole breadth is visible, from the long wall of the Moab hills on the east to the Mediterranean sea on the west. Whatever may 1 Compare Ps. lxviii. 15; — “The ‘Mount’ of God is a high ‘mountain,’ ns the ‘mountain’ of Bashan” (i. e., of Anti-Libanus). Isa. ii. 2; — “The moun¬ tain of the Lord’s house shall be estab¬ lished on the top of the mountains.” Ps. xlvi. 4; — “There is a river, the streams whereof shall make glad the < itv of God.” PALESTINE. 181 be the poverty or insignificance of the landscape, it is at once relieved by a glimpse of either of these two boundaries. “ Two voices are there — one is of the sea, One of the mountains,” — and the close proximity of each — the deep purple shade of the one, and the glittering waters of the other — makes it always possible for one or other of those two voices to be heard now, as they were by the Psalmist of old. “ The strength of the ‘ mountains is his also — The sea is his, and He made it.”1 Thus, although the Israelites were shut off by the southern and eastern deserts from the surrounding nations, they yet were always able to look beyond themselves. They had no connection with either the eastern empires or the western isles — but they could not forget them. As in the words and forms of their worship they were con¬ stantly reminded how they had once been strangers in the land of Egypt ; so the sight of the hills beyond the Jordan, and of the sea beyond the Philistine plain, were in their daily life a memorial that they were there secluded not for their own sakes, but for the sake of the world in whose centre they were set. The moun¬ tains of Gilead, and on the south, the long ridges of Arabia, were at hand to remind them of those distant regions from which their first fathers Abraham and Jacob had wandered into the country, — from which u the camels and dromedaries of Midian and Ephah” were once again to pour in. The sea, whitening then as now with the ships of Tarshish, the outline of Chittim or Cyprus2 just visible in the clear evening horizon, must have told them of the western world where lay the “ isles of the Gentiles,” which “ should come to their light, and kings to the brightness of their rising . Who are these that lly as a cloud, arid as the doves to their windows ? Surely the isles shall wait for me, and the ships of Tarshish first.”3 9 See Chapter XII. 1 Ps. xcv. 4, 5. 3 Isa. lx. 3, 8, 9. 182 SINAI AND PALESTINE. The very name of the “ west” was to them “ the sea ;’n and it is not merely a poetic image, but a natural reflex of their whole history and situation, that the great revela¬ tion of the expansion of the Jewish system to meet the wants of all nations should have been made to the Apostle on the house-top at Jaffa — “ When o’er the glowing western main Iiis wistful brow was upward raised; Where, like an angel’s train, The burnished water blazed.”1 2 3 III. This leads us to another point of view, in which the central situation of Palestine is remarkably bound up with situation. jps future destinies. “ I have set Jerusalem in the midst of the nations and countries that are round about her.” In later times this passage was taken in the literal sense that Palestine, and Jerusalem especially, was actually the centre of the earth3 — a belief of which the memorial is yet preserved in the large round stone still kissed de¬ voutly by Greek pilgrims, in their portion of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre.4 It is one of the many instances in which the innocent fancy of an earlier faith has been set aside by the discoveries of later science. In the East probably there are still many points of this kind which have been long surrendered in the more stirring West. But there was a real truth in it at the time that the Prophet wrote, which the subsequent course of his¬ tory makes it now difficult for us to realize. Palestine, though now at the very outskirts of that tide of civilization which has swept far into the remotest West, was then the vanguard of the eastern, and therefore, of the civilised world ; and, moreover, stood midway between the two great seats of ancient Empire, Babylon and Egypt. ' It was on the high road from one to the other of these mighty powers, the prize for which they contended, the 1 Tho Hebrew “Jam,” is both “the sea” and “the west.” See Appendix. 2 Christian Year. Monday in Easter week. See Chapter VI. 8 Ezok. v. 5. See the quota¬ tions irom Jerome, Theodoret, and Kimchi, in Reland’s Palestine, cap. x. p. 52. 4 The same belief is seen in the old raedimval maps of the world — such as that of the 14th century, preserved in Hereford Cathedral. PALESTINE. 183 battlefield on which they fought — the high bridge,1 over which they ascended and descended respectively into the deep basins of the Nile and Euphrates. Its first appearance on the stage of history is as a halting-place for a wanderer from Mesopotamia,2 who “ passed through the land,” and “ journeyed going on still toward the south,” and “ went down into Egypt.” The first great struggle which that wanderer had to maintain, was against the host of Chedorlaomer, from Persia and from Babylon. The battle in which the latest hero of the Jewish mon¬ archy perished, was to check the advance of an Egyp¬ tian king on his way to contest the empire of the then known world with the king of Assyria at Carchemish.3 The whole history of Palestine, between the return from the Captivity and the Christian sera, is a contest between the “ kings of the north and the kings of the south”4 — the descendants of Seleucus and the descendants of Ptolemy, — for the possession of the country. And when at last the West begins to rise as a new power on the horizon, Palestine as the nearest point of contact between the two worlds, becomes the scene of the chief conflicts of Rome with Asia.5 There is no other country in the world which could exhibit the same confluence of associations, as that which is awakened by the rocks which overhang the crystal stream of the Dog River,6 where it rushes through the ravines of Lebanon into the Mediterranean sea; where side by side are to be seen the hieroglyphics of the great Rameses, the cuneiform characters of Sennacherib, and the Latin inscriptions of the Emperor Antoninus.7 IY. This is the most convenient place for noticing Land 0. a peculiarity of the present aspect of Palestine, Rllins* which though not, properly speaking, a physical feature, is so closely connected both with its outward imagery and 1 See Ritter’s interesting Lecture on the Jordan and the Dead Sea, Berlin, 1850, p. 8. 3 Genesis xii. 6, 9, 10. 8 2 Kings xxiii. 29. 2 Ohron. xmv. 20-24. 4 Dan. xi. 6, ff. 6 This resistance of Palestine alter¬ nately to the conquerors from the East and from the West, is well put in Salvador’s Domination Romaine , vol i. p. 53. c The Nahr-el-Xelb, just above Bey- rout. See Chapter VI. 7 See Ritter, Lebanon, pp. 531 ~* 546. 184 SINAI AND PALESTINE. with its general situation, that it cannot he omitted. Above all other countries in the world, it is a Land of Ruins. It is not that the particular ruins are on a scale equal to those of Greece or Italy, still less to those of Egypt. But there is no country in which they are so numerous, none in which they bear so large a proportion to the villages and towns still in existence. In Judaea it is hardly an exaggeration to say that wTiilst for miles and miles there is no appearance of present life or habitation, except the occasional goat¬ herd on the hill side, or gathering of women at the wells, there is yet hardly a hill-top of the many within sight which is not covered by the vestiges of some fortress or city of former ages. Sometimes they are fragments of ancient walls, sometimes mere foundations and piles of stone, but always enough to indicate signs of human habitation and civilisation. Such is the case in Western Palestine. In Eastern Palestine, and still more if we include the Hauran and the Lebanon, the same picture is continued, although under a somewdiat different aspect. Here the ancient cities remain, in like manner deserted, ruined, but standing ; not mere masses and heaps of stone, but towns and houses, in amount and in a state of preservation which have no parallel except in the cities of Herculaneum and Pompeii, buried under the eruption of Vesuvius. Not even in Home or Athens, hardly in Egyptian Thebes, can ancient buildings be found in such magni¬ tude and such profusion as at Baalbec, Jerash, and Palmyra. No where else, it is said, can all the details of Roman domestic architecture be seen so clearly as in the hundreds of deserted villages which stand on the red desert of the Hauran. This difference between the ruins of the two regions of Palestine arises no doubt from the circumstance, that whereas Eastern Syria has been for the last four hundred years entirely, for the last fifteen hundred years nearly, deserted by civilised, almost by barbarian, man, Western Palestine has always been the resort of a popula¬ tion which, however rude and scanty, has been sufficiently numerous and energetic to destroy and to appropriate edifices which in the less frequented parts beyond the Jordan have escaped through neglect and isolation. PALESTINE. 185 But tlie general fact of the ruins of Palestine, whether erect or fallen, remains common to the whole country ; deepens and confirms, if it does not create, the impression of age and decay, which belongs to almost every view of Palestine, and invests it with an appearance which can be called by no other name than venerable. Moreover, it carries us deep into the historical pecu¬ liarities of the country. The ruins we now see are of the most diverse ages ; Saracenic, Crusading, Roman, Grecian, Jewish, extending perhaps even to the old Canaanitish remains, before the arrival of Joshua. This variety, this accumulation of destruction, is the natural result of the position which has made Palestine for so many ages the thoroughfare and prize of the world. And although we now see this aspect brought out in a fuller light than ever before, yet as far back as the history and language of Palestine reaches, it was fami¬ liar to the inhabitants of the country. In the rich local vocabulary of the Hebrew language, the words for sites of* ruined cities occupy a remarkable place. Four sepa¬ rate designations are used for the several stages of decay or of destruction, which were to be seen even during the first vigour of the Israelite conquest *and monarchy. There was the rude “ cairn,” or pile of stones, roughly rolled together.1 There was the mound or heap of ruin,2 which, like the Monte Testaccio at Rome, was composed of the rubbish and debris of a fallen city. There were the for¬ saken villages,3 such as those in the Hauran, when “ the cities were wasted without inhabitant and the houses with¬ out man,” — “ forsaken, and not a man to dwell therein.” There are lastly, true ruins, such as those to which we give the name — buildings standing, yet shattered, like those of Raalbec or Palmyra.4 1 Gal, “ rolling.” Such were the cairns over Achan and the King of Ai ; Joshua, vii. 26 ; viii. 29. 2 Ttl, “ heap.” Such were the cities so called in the neighbourhood of Ba¬ bylon: — Telabib (Ezek. iii. 15), Tel- harsa, or baresha (Ezr. ii. 59. Neh. vii. 61), Tel-melah (do. do.), Telassar (Isa. xxx vii. 12). The word has thence passed into Arabic as the common name for a “ hill,” — in which sense it seems to be used in Joshua, xi. 13, “ the cities that stood still on their ‘heaps’ (telim).” 3 Azubah, “forsaken.” Isa. vi. 12 ; xvii. 2, 9; lxii. 12. Jer. iv. 29. Zepli. ii. 4. 4 Ai. Three towns at least were so called from this circumstance. 1, Ai, 186 SINAI AND PALESTINE. What, therefore, we now see, must to a certain extent have been seen always — a country strewed with the relics of an earlier civilisation ; a country exhibiting even in the first dawn of history the theatre of successive conquests and destruction — “ giants dwelling therein of old time .... a people great, and many, and tall, .... but the^ Lord destroyed them before those that came after ; and they succeeded them and dwelt in their stead.”1 Y. But this aspect of the land, whilst it reminds us in some respects of the identity of its present appearance with that of the past, reminds us still more forcibly of its difference. The countless ruins of Palestine, of whatever date they may be, tell us at a glance that we must not judge the re¬ sources of the ancient land by its present depressed and de¬ solate state. They show us not only that “ Syria might sup¬ port tenfold its present population, and bring forth tenfold its present produce,”2 but that it actually did so. And this brings us to the question which Eastern travellers so often ask, and are asked on their return, “ Can these stony “ The land 7 . 7 *> of milk and hills, these deserted valleys, be indeed the Land of Promise, the land flowing with milk and honey ?” There are two answers to this question. First, as has just been observed, the country must have been very different when every hill was crowned with a flourishing town or village, from what it is since it ceased to be the seat not only of civilisation, but in many instances even of the population and habitations which once fertilised it. Josh. vii. (compare viii. 28) ; 2. Ije- abarim, or Tim, “ in the border of Moab;” Numb, xxxiii. 44; and 3. Iim, in the south of Judah (Josh. xv. 29.) The “Avites,” or Avim, the earliest in¬ habitants of Philistia (Deut. ii. 23), seem to have derived their name from this word — “The dwellers in ruins.” To what an antiquity does this carry us back. Ruins before the days of those who pre¬ ceded the Philistines! 1 Deut, ii. 10, 12, 20, 21, 22, 23. 3 Report of Mr. Moore, Consul-Gene¬ ral of Syria, appended to Dr. Bowr.ng’s Report on the Commercial Statistics of Syria, presented to both Houses of Par¬ liament. (London, 1840.) Pp. 90 — 111. It is needless to adduce proofs of a fact so well attested, both by existing vestiges, and by universal testimony, as the populousness of Syria, not only in the times of the Jewish monarchy, but of the Greek kingdom, the Roman empire, and the middle ages. But any one who wishes to see the argu¬ ment drawn out in detail, will find it in the 3rd, 4th, and 5th chapters of Keith’s Land of Israel, — a bock disfigured indeed by an extravagant and untenable the¬ ory, but containing much useful in forms* tion. PALESTINE. 187 The entire destruction of the woods which once De8truo. covered the mountains, and the utter neglect of the Uonofwood* terraces which supported the soil on steep declivities, have given full scope to the rains, which have left many tracts of bare rock, where formerly were vineyards and cornfields.”1 It is probable too that, as in Europe generally, since the disappearance of the German forests, and in Greece, since the fall of the plane-trees which once shaded the bare landscape of Attica, the gradual cessation of rain pro¬ duced by this loss of vegetation has exposed the country in a greater degree than in early times to the evils of drought. This at least is the effect of the testimony of residents at Jerusalem, within whose experience the Kedron has recently for the first time flowed with a copious torrent, evidently in consequence of the numerous enclosures of mulberry and olive groves, made within the last few years by the Greek convent, and in themselves a sample of the different aspect which such cultivation more widely extended would give to the whole country. The forest of Hareth, and the thicket-wood of Ziph, in Jud'cea ;2 the forest of Bethel f the forest of Sharon ;4 the forests which gave their name to Kirjath-jearim, “ the city of forests,”5 have long disappeared. Palm-trees, which are now all but unknown on the hills of Palestine, formerly grew, as we shall presently see, with myrtles and pines, on the now almost barren slopes of Olivet ; and groves of oak and terebinth, though never frequent, must have been certainly more common than at present. The very labour which was expended on these barren hills of Palestine in former times, has increased their present sterility. The natural vegetation has been swept away, and no human cultivation now occupies the terraces which once took the place of forests and pastures.6 Secondly, even without such an effort of imagina- ^thContrth1 tion as is required to conceive an altered state of Desert; 1 Dr. Olin’s Travels in the East, voh 3 2 Kings ii. 24; 1 Sam. xiv. 25. L 428. The whole passage is worth 4 See Chapter VI., ii. perusal, as a calm and clear statement 6 Compare 1 Sam. vi. 21, vii. 1. and 1 of a somewhat entangled and delicate Chron. xiii. 5, with Ps. cxxxii. 6. question. See also Capt. Allen’s Dead 6 This is well put in Keith’s Land ol Sea, ii. 280—290. Israel, p. 425. 2 1 Sam. xxii. 5 ; xxiii. 15. 188 SINAI AND PALESTINE. with As Syria ; population and civilisation, it is enough to remember the actual situation of Palestine, in its relation to the surround¬ ing countries of the East. We do not sufficiently hear ir mind that the East, that is the country between the Medi¬ terranean and the table-lands of Persia, between the Sahara and the Persian gulf, is a waterless desert, only diversified here and there by strips and patches of vegetation.1 Such green spots or tracts, — which are in fact but oases on a large scale, — are the rich plains on the banks of the Tigris and the Euphrates, the long strips of verdure on the banks of the Nile, the occasional centres of vegetation in Arabia Felix and Idumaea ; and, lastly, the cultivated though narrow territory of Palestine itself. It is true that as compared with the depth of soil and richness of vegetation on the banks of the Nile, or with the carpet of flowers described2 on the banks of the Chebar, Palestine seems poor and bare. But as compared with the whole surrounding country in the midst of which it stands, it is unquestionably a fertile land in the midst of barren¬ ness. The impression on entering it from the south has been already described.3 The Desert often encroaches upon it — the hills of Anti-Libanus which overhang the plain of Damascus, and those which bound Judaea on the east, are as truly parts of the wilderness as Sinai itself. But the interior of the country is never entirely destitute of the signs of life, and the long tracts of Esdra- elon, and the sea-coast and the plain of Cfennesareth, are, or might be, as rich with gardens and with cornfields as the most favoured spots in Egypt. And there is, more¬ over, this peculiarity which distinguishes Palestine from the only countries with which it could then be brought into comparison. Chaldaea and Egypt — the latter of course in and with an eminent degree — depend on the course of single Egypt- rivers. Without the Nile, and the utmost use of the waters of the Nile, Egypt would be a desert. 1 The Emperor Napoleon, in his re¬ marks on the short-lived character of Asiatic dynasties, ascribes it to the fact that Asia is surrounded by deserts, which furnish a never-ceasing supply of barbarian hordes to overthrow the seats of civilised power reared within their reach. ( Memoires . Eng. Tran, voh il 265.) 2 Layard’s Nineveh and Babylon, pp, 269,273,308. 3 See Chapter I., Part ii. p. 166. PALESTINE. 189 But Palestine is well distinguished not merely as u a land of wheat and barley, and vines, and fig-trees, and pome¬ granates, of oil-olive and 'honey,” but emphatically as “ a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of 6 plains’ and 4 mountains’ ” — - i: not as the land of Egypt, where thou sowedst thy seed and wateredst it wTith thy foot, as a garden of herbs : but as a land of 6 mountains’ and ‘ plains,’ which drinketh water of the rain of heaven.”1 This mountainous character— this abundance of water both from natural springs and from the clouds of, heaven, in contradistinction to the one uniform supply of the great river ; this abundance of “ milk” from its “ cattle on a thousand hills,” of “ honey” from its forests and its thymy shrubs, was absolutely peculiar to Palestine amongst the civilised nations of the East. Feeble as its brooks might be, — though, doubtless, they were then more frequently filled than now- —yet still it was the only country where an Eastern could have been familiar with the image of the Psalmist : “ He sendeth the springs into the valleys, which run among the ‘ mountains.’ ”2 Those springs too, however short-lived, are remarkable for their copiousness and beauty. Not only not in the East, but hardly in the West, can any fountains and sources of streams be seen so clear, so full-grown even at their birth, as those which fall into the Jordan and its lakes through its whole course from north to south. Wales or Westmoreland are, doubtless, not regarded as fertile regions ; and the green fields of England, to those who have come fresh from Palestine, seem, by way of contrast, to be indeed “a land of promise.” But transplant Wales or Westmoreland into the heart of the Desert, and they would be far more to the inhabitant of the Desert than to their inhabitants are the richest spots of England. Far more : both because the contrast is in itself greater, and because the phenomena of a moun¬ tain country, with wells and springs, are of a kind almost unknown to the dwellers in the deserts or river-plains of the East. Palestine therefore not merely by its situation, but by 1 Deut. viii. 7, 8; xi. 10, 11. 2 Ps. civ. 10. 190 SINAI AND PALESTINE. its comparative fertility, might well be considered the prize of the Eastern world, the possession of which was the mark of God’s peculiar favour ; the spot for which the nations would contend : as on a smaller scale .the Bedouin tribes for some diamond of the desert77 — some “ palm-grove islanded amid the waste.77 And a land of which the blessings were so evidently the gift of God, not, as in Egypt,1 of man’s labour, which also, by reason of its narrow extent, was so constantly within reach and sight of the neighbour¬ ing Desert, was eminently calculated to raise the thoughts of the nation to the Supreme Giver of all these blessings, and to bind it by the dearest ties to the land which he had so manifestly favoured.2 YI. With these gentler incentives to religious thought and feeling were blended the more terrible as well as the more beautiful forms of tropical and eastern life. Storms, The “ voice of the Lord77 made itself heard in cjuakes,^ and storms, bursting suddenly out of the clear phenomena, heavens, preceded by violent hurricanes, — the clouds with their thick darkness almost seeming to touch the ground, — the thunder, heard, not as with us, in short and broken peals, but in one continuous roll, as if joining flash to flash without interruption.3 “ He bowed the heavens and came down, and there was darkness under his feet . . . He rode upon the wings of the wind . . . The Lord thundered out of heaven, and the Highest gave his voice ; hailstones and coals of fire . . . The voice of the Lord divideth the flames of lire.77 4 The volcanic phenomena of Palestine open a question of which the data are, in a scientific point of view, too i Compare the remarks of the Em¬ peror Napoleon on Egypt. Memoires, vol. ii. 211. (Eng. Tran.) “ The plains of Beaune and Brie in Champagne are fecundated by regular waterings from the rains. Government has, in this respect, no influence there. But in Egypt, where the irrigations can only be artificial, government is everv- thing ” 2 See Ewald, Geschichte, 2nd Edit, vol. i. p. 296. 3 I give these features from a thunder¬ storm that I witnessed in passing Mount Hermon on April 7, 1853. 4 Ps. xviii. 9 ; xxix. 7. PALESTINE, 191 imperfect to be discussed ; 1 but there is enough in the history and literature of the people to show that there was an agency of this kind at work. The valley of the Jordan,2 both in its desolation and vegetation, was one continued portent ; and from its crevices ramified even into the interior of Judaea the startling appearances, if not of the volcano, at least of the earthquake. Their historical effect in the special theatres of their operation will appear as we proceed ; but their traces on the per¬ manent feeling of the nation must be noticed here. The writings of the Psalmists and Prophets abound with indications which escape the eye of a superficial reader. Like the soil of their country, they actually heave and labour with the fiery convulsions which glow beneath their surface ; in part, it may be, from the recollection of the older catastrophe of Sodom and Gomorrah, but chiefly from more recent calamities, especially from the great earthquake3 in the reign of Uzziah, which coincides in point of time with most of these allusions.4 “ He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth : he touch eth the ‘ mountains/ and they smoke.” — “ Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be removed.” — “ The mountains shall be molten under him, and the valleys shall be cleft as wax before the fire, and as the waters that are poured down a steep place.” — “The mountains quake at him, and the hills melt, and the earth is burned at his pres¬ ence ; . . his fury is poured out like fire, and the rocks are thrown down by him.” — “The mountains flow down at thy presence, as when the melting fire burneth, the fire causeth the waters to boil.” The Prophecy of Amos is a succession of earthquake-shocks. The thunder ol‘ the first “roar” from Jerusalem awakens him; “the lion hath roared, who will not fear? The Lord hath 1 See article Palestine in Dr. Smith’s Dictionary of Classical Geography; also lvitto’s Physical Geography of Palestine, c. iii. 2 See Chapter VII. 3 See Chapter III. 4 Ps. civ. 32. Micali i. 4. Nahum i. Isa. Ixiv. 1, 2. 5. 192 SINAI AND PALESTINE. spoken, who will not prophesy?”1 2 “The day of the Lord becomes darkness, very dark, and no lightness in it.” The land heaves like the rising of the Nile flood.3 The “ waters of the sea ” rise, and are “ poured over the face of the earth.”3 — The most ancient and the most recent of these convulsions are brought together by the links of this mysterious agency. “ I have overthrown some of you, as God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah , and }Te were as a firebrand plucked out of the burning.”4 The temple, the ivory palaces, the gateways of Bethel are “ smitten,”' “ shake,” £< fall,” perish, and come to an end ; 5 even as at a more awful moment by a like con¬ vulsion “ the vail of the Temple ” at Jerusalem “ was rent in twain from the top to tlfe bottom.” 6 It is probable that nothing conveys to the human mind so strong a sense of general instability and insecurity as the recurrence of earthquake ; the only terror, of which, as has been often observed, the edge is sharpened, not blunted, by familiarity. £: Fear, and the pit, and the snare, are upon thee, 0 inhabitant of the earth. And it shall come to pass, that he who fleeth from the noise of the fear shall fall into the pit ; and he that cometli up out of the midst of the pit shall be taken in the snare : for the windows from on high are open, and the foundations of the earth do shake. The earth is utterly broken down, the earth is clean dissolved, the earth is moved exceedingly. The earth shall reel to and fro like a drunkard, and shall be removed like a cottage.7 ” But the nerves of the faith of Israel were not unstrung by shocks which to them rather brought out the consciousness of that which was immovable. “Therefore will we not fear, though the earth be moved, and though the mountains be carried into the midst of the sea.” — “ The Lord reigneth ; let the people 1 Amos i. 2 ; iv. 8. See Chapter III. 2 Amos viii. 8 ; ix. 5. See Appendix, Ye or. 3 Amos ix. 6. 4 Amos iv. 11. 6 Amos iii. 14, 15 ; ix. 1. 6 Matt, xxvii. 52. 7 Isa. xxiv. 17 — 20. PALESTINE. 198 tremble : lie sittetli between the cherubim ; let the earth be moved.’7 1 YII. What has been already said is enough to indicate the extraordinary variety of struc- stTuTturl ture and temperature exhibited m the Holy Land. It is said by Volney,2 and apparently with justice, that there is no district on the face of the earth which contains so many and such sudden transitions. Such a countrv furnished at once the natural theatre t/ of a history and a literature, which was destined to spread into nations accustomed to the most various climates and imagery. There must of course, under any circumstances, be much in the history of any nation, eastern or western, northern or southern, which, to other quarters of the world, will be more or less unintelligible. Still it is easy to conceive that what¬ ever difficulty is presented to European or American minds by the sacred writings, might have been greatly aggravated had the Bible come into existence in a countrv more limited in its outward imagery than is the case with Palestine. If the Valley of the Nile or the Arabian Desert had witnessed the whole of the sacred history, it is impossible not to feel how widely separated it would have been from the ordi¬ nary European mind ; how small a portion of our feelings and imaginations would have been represented by it. The truths might have been the same, but the forms in which they were clothed would have affected only a few here and there, leaving the great mass untouched. But as it is, we have the life of a Bedouin tribe, of an agricultural people, of seafaring cities ; the extremes of barbarism and of civilisation ; the aspects of plain and of mountain ; of a tropical, of an eastern, and almost of a northern climate. In Egypt there is a continual contact of desert and culti¬ vated land ; in Greece, there is a constant intermix- 1 Ps. xlvi. 2 ; xcix. 1. See Ritter ; Jordan, p. 350. 194 SINAI AND PALESTINE. ture of the views of sea and land ; in the ascent and descent of the great mountains of South America there is an interchange of the torrid and the arctic zones ; in England, there is an alternation of wild hills and valleys with rich fields and plains. But in Palestine all these are combined. The Patriarchs could here gradually exchange the nomadic life for the pastoral, and then for the agricultural, passing almost insensibly from one to the other as the Desert melts imperceptibly into the hills of Palestine. Xsh- mael and Esau could again wander back into the sandy waste which lay at their very doors.1 The scape-goat could still be sent from the temple-courts into the uninhabited wilderness.2 John, and a greater than John, could return in a day’s journey from the busiest haunts of men into the solitudes beyond the Jordan.3 The various tribes could find their several occupations of shepherds, of warriors, of traffickers, ac¬ cording as they were settled on the margin of the Desert, in the mountain fastnesses, or on the shores of the Mediterranean. The sacred poetry, which was to be the delight and support of the human mind and of the human soul in all regions of the world, em¬ braced within its range the natural features of almost every country. The venerable poet of our own moun¬ tain regions used to dwell with genuine emotion on the pleasure he felt in the reflection that the Psalmists and Prophets dwelt in a mountainous country, and enjoyed its beauty as truly as himself. The devotions of our great maritime empire find a natural expression in the numerous allusions, which no inland situation could have permitted, to the roar of the Mediterranean sea, breaking over the rocks of Acre and Tyre, — “ the floods lift up their voice, the floods lift up their waves,” — the “ great and wide sea,” whose blue waters could 1 See Chapter I., Part ii. p. 16G. 3 See Chapters X. and XIII. 2 Lev. xvi. 22. PALESTINE. 195 be seen from the top of almost every mountain, “ wherein are things creeping innumerable.” There go the Phoe¬ nician “ ships” with their white sails, and “ there is that Leviathan,” the monster of the deep, which both Jewish and Grecian fancy wTas wont to place in the inland ocean, wdiich was to them all, and more than all, that the Atlantic is to us. Thither, 66 they went down” from their mountains, and “ did their business in ships,” in the 66 great waters,” and saw7 the “ wonders” of the “ deep ;” and along those shores wrere the u havens,” few7 and far between, u where they would be” when “ the storm became calm, and the waves thereof were still.”1 And with these milder, and to us more familiar images, were blended the more terrible, as well as the more beautiful forms, of tropical and eastern life. There was the earthquake and possibly the volcano. “ He looketh on the earth and it treinbleth — He toucheth the mountains and they smoke.”2 “ The mountains shall be molten under Him, and the valleys shall be cleft as wax before the fire, and as the waters that are poured down a steep place.”3 There was the hurricane, with its thick dark¬ ness, and the long continuous roll of the oriental thunder¬ storm. 66 He bowed the Heavens and came down, and there was darkness under His feet. . . . He rode upon the wings of the wind. . . . The Lord thundered out of heaven, and the Highest gave His voice, hailstones and coals of fire. . . . The voice of the Lord divideth the flames of fire.”4 ITermon, with his snowy summit always in sight, furnished the images which else could hardly have been looked for, — ■“ snow and vapours,” — “ snow like wool,” “ hoar-frost like ashes” — “ ice like morsels.”5 From the jun¬ gle of the Jordan valley and the wild mountains of Judah, came the “ lions roaring after their prey.”6 And then again, the upland hills experienced all the usual alter¬ nations of the seasons; the “rain descending on the mown grass,’7 the “early and the latter rain,77 the mountains “watered from His chambers, the earth satis- 1 Ps. civ. 2G ; cvii. 23—30. * 5 Ps. cxl.vii. 16 ; cxlviii. 8. * Ps. civ. 32. 3 Micah, i. 4. G P» civ. 21 • Jcr. xlix. 19; 1 Sam. 4 Ps. xviii. 9 ; xxix. 7. xvii. 34. 196 SINAI AND PALESTINE. fled with the fruit of His works which, though not the same as the ordinary returns of a European climate, were yet far more like it than could be found in Egypt. Arabia, or Assyria. Such instances of the variety of Jewish experience in Palestine, as contrasted with that of any other country, might easily be multiplied. But enough has been said to show its fitness for the history or the poetry of a nation with a universal destiny, and to indicate one at least of the methods by which that destiny was fostered ; the sudden contrasts of the various aspects of life and death, sea and land, ver¬ dure and desert, storm and calm, heat and cold, which, so far as any natural means could assist, cultivated what has been well called the “ variety in unity,” so characteristic of the sacred books of Israel ; so unlike those of India, of Persia, of Egypt, of Ara¬ bia. Palestine, VIII. Amidst this great diversity of physical fea- ft mountain- ^ # x country. tures, undoubtedly the one whichmost prevails over the others is its mountainous character. As a general rule, Palestine is not merely a mountainous country, hut a mass of mountains, rising from a level sea-coast on the west, and from a level desert on the east, only cut asunder by the valley of the Jordan from north to south, and by the valley of Jezreel from east to west. The result of this peculiarity is, that not merely the hill-tops, but the valleys and plains of the interior of Palestine, both east and west, are themselves so high above the level of the sea, as to partake of all the main characteristics of mountainous history and scenery. Jerusalem is of nearly the same elevation as Skiddaw, and most of the chief cities of Palestine are several hundred feet above the Mediter¬ ranean Sea. 1. Many expressions of the Old and New Testa- “Aram>” ments have immediate reference to this configuration of the country, the more remarkable from its ccntrast with the 1 Ps. Jxxii. 6; civ. 13. Compare Dout. xi. 14, xxxii. 2. PALESTINE. 197 flat from which it rises on the east and south. This pro¬ bably is at least one signification of the earliest name by which not Palestine alone, but the whole chain of mountains of which it is an offshoot, was called, — “ Aram,” or the “ highlands,” as distinguished from “ Canaan,” “ the low¬ lands” or plain of the seacoast on the west, and the “ Beka” or great plain of the Mesopotamian deserts on the east. u Aram”1 (or Syria , the word by which the Greeks translated the word into their own language), seems to have been the general appellation of the whole sweep of mountains which enclose the western plains of Asia, and which were thus designated, like the various ranges of Maritime, Graian, Pennine, and Julian Alps, by some affix or epithet to distinguish one portion from another. However this may be, there can be no doubt that in Palestine we are in the “ Highlands” of Asia. This was CD the more remarkable in connection with the Israelites, because they were the only civilised nation then existing in the world, which dwelt in a mountainous country. The great states of Egypt, of Assyria, of India,2 rose in the plains formed by the mighty rivers of those empires. The mountains from which those rivers descended were the haunts of the barbarian races who, from time to time, descended to conquer or ravage these rich and level tracts. But the Hebrew people was raised above the other ancient 1 “ Aram-Naharaim,” “the highlands of the two rivers” (the word trans¬ lated “ Mesopotamia” by the G-reek, the Latin, and the English versions), Gen. xxiv. 10, Deut. xxiii, 4, Judges iii. 8, 1 Chron. xix. G, is applied to the mountains from which the Euphrates and Tigris issue into the plain. It is also described, in Numb, xxiii. 7, as “ Aram, the mountains of the East.” “ Padan-Aram” is “the cultivated held of the highlands,” Gen. xxv. 20, xxviii. 2, 5, 6, 7, xlviii. 7 ; apparently either an upland vale in the hills, or a fertile dis¬ trict immediately at their feet. That this is the meaning of “ Padan,” appears both from its derivation from “ Padah” plough” — (see Gesenius, in voce ) — and from the equivalent “ Sadeh”— “cultivated held” — arvum, — used for it in Hosea xii. 12 (though here translated ‘country’). “Aram of Damascus” (2 Sam. viii. 6) is “ the highlands above Damascus,” to which, in later times, the word “ Aram” (“ Syria”) became almost entirely restricted, as in Isa. vii. 1, 8; Amos i. 5 ; 1 Kings xv. 18; and so the lesser principalities of' the same region are oalled “ Aram Zobah,” “Aram Maachah,” “Aram Beth-Re- hob.” To Palestine itself it is never applied in the Scriptures, but the con¬ stant designation of the country by Greek writers (see Roland, cap. viii.), is “ Syria Palmstina,” which, in its Hebrew equivalent, would bo “ Aram Philistim.” For the meaning of Syria, see Chapter VI. 2 See the lact well given in Hegel’s Philosophy of History, c. L 198 SINAI AND PALESTINE. states, equally in its moral and in its physical relations. From the Desert of Arabia to Hebron is a continual ascent / and from that ascent there is no descent of any importance except to the plains of the Jordan, Esdraelon, and the coast.1 To “go down into Egypt,” to “go up into Canaan,” were expressions as true as they are frequent in the account of the Patriarchal migrations to and fro between the two countries. From a mountain sanctuary, as it were, Israel looked over the world. “ The mountain of the Lord’s house,” — “ established on the tops of the mountains,” — • “ exalted above the hills,” — to which “ all nations should go up,”2 was the image in which the prophets delighted to represent the future glory of their country. When “ the Lord had a controversy with his people,” it was to be “ before the mountains and the hills,” and “ the strong foundations of the earth.”3 When the messengers of glad tidings returned from the captivity, their feet were “ beautiful upon the mountains.”4 It was to the “ mountains” of Israel that the exile lifted up his eyes, as the place from “whence his help came.”' To the oppressed it was “ the mountains” that brought “judg¬ ment, and the hills righteousness.”6 “ My mountains” — “my holy mountain,”7 — are expressions for the whole country.8 One striking consequence of this elevation of the , . Tn 6 vie-ws whole mass of the country is that every high point of sacred • History in it commands a prospect of greater extent than is common in ordinary mountain districts. On almost every eminence there is an opportunity for one of those wide views or surveys which abound in the history of Palestine, and which, more than anything else, connect together our impression of events and of the scene on which they were enacted. There are first the successive views of Abraham ; as when on “ the mountain east of Bethel,” “Lot lifted up his eyes, and beheld all the plain of 1 Seo Chapter I., Part ii. p 1G8. " Isa. ii. 2, 3. 8 Micah. vi. 1, 2. 4 Isa. lii. 1. 6 Ps. cxxi. 1. 8 Ps Ixxii. 3. 7 Isa. xi. 9; xiv 25; lvii. 13; lxv. 9. 8 This whole aspect of the country is caught by Rauwulf with intelligence remarkable for so early a traveller (Travels, p. 220, 221). PALESTINE. 199 Abraham, Balaam, J ordan,” — and Abraham “ lifted up his eyes, and looked from the place where he was, northward, and southward, and eastward, and westward f1 or again, when “ Abraham looked towards Sodom and Gomorrah . . . and beheld, and lo the smoke of the country went up as the smoke of a furnace •” or yet again, when “ he lifted up his eyes, and saw the place afar off in the land of Moriah.”2 In the later history there is unfolded still more distinctly the view of Balaam from the “ high places of Moab,” where “from the top of the rocks he saw,” “from the hills he beheld,” not only “the tents of Jacob” and the “ tabernacles of Israel,” with their future greatness rising far in the distance, but the surrounding nations also, whose fate was interwoven with theirs — and he thought of Edom and Seir, and “ looked on Amalek,” and “ looked on the Kenite.”3 And close upon this follows the view — the most famous in all time, the proverb of all languages — when from that same spot — “the field of Zophim on the top of Pisgah,”4 — Moses, from “ the mountain of Nebo, the top of Pisgah,” saw “ all the land of Gilead unto Dan, and all Naphthali, and the land of Ephraim and Manasseh, and all the land of Judah unto the utmost sea, and the south, and the plain of Jericho, the city of palm-trees, unto Zoar.”5 Such, too, in vision, was the “ very high mountain, in the land of Israel,” from which Ezekiel saw the “frame of the city,” and “the waters issuing to the east country,” “ the desert,” and “the sea.”6 Such — in vision, also — was the mountain “ exceeding high,” which and of the revealed on the day of the Temptation “ all the Moses ; ”7 Temptation, kingdoms of the world and the glory of them, Such — not in vision, but in the most certain readily, was that double view of Jerusalem from Mount Olivet — the first, when, at the sudden turn of the road from Bethany, “ lie beheld the city, and wept over it,” the second, when 1 Gen. xiii. 10, 14. See Chapter IV. 2 Gen. xix. 28 ; xxii. 4. See Chapters V. VI. 8 Numb. xxii. 41 ; xxiii. 9; xxiv\ 5, 17, 18, 20, 21. See Chapter VII. 4 Numb, xxiii. 14. 5 Deut. xxxiv. 1 — 3. See Chapter VII. 6 Ezek. xl. 2 ; xlvii. 8. See Chapter VII. 7 Matt. iv. 8. See Chapter VIII. 200 SINAI AND PALESTINE. “ He sat on the Mount of Olives, over against the Temple,’1 and saw those “ great buildings.”1 Other prospects such as of Jacob from Mahanaim, of Deborah from Mount Tabor, of Solomon from Gibeon, though not detailed, can well be imagined ; others, again, though belonging to later times, are yet full of interest — the view, whether historical or legendary, of Mahomet2 over Damascus; the view of Jerusalem, as Titus saw it from the heights of Scopus, or as it burst, eleven centuries later, on the Crusading armies at the same spot, or as the pilgrims beheld it from “ Montjoye.”3 To all these I shall return in detail as we come to them in their several localities. No other history contains so many of these points of contact between the impressions of life and the impressions of outward scenery. But, besides this imaginative result, if one may so say, the mountainous character of Palestine is intimately con- nected with its history, both religious and political. 2. The infinite multiplication of these hills renders in¬ telligible two points constantly recurring in the history of the Jewish people — the “fenced cities” and the The Ftmced “high places.” Prom the earliest times of the oc- citics: cupation of the country by a civilised and stationary people, we hear of the cities great and “Availed up to heaven” which terrihed the Israelite spies; of the “fenced cities” attacked by Sennacherib, of the various hill-forts, Jotapata, Masada, Bether, Avhich in the last Jewish Avars held out against the Homan forces. This is still the appearance of the existing villages or ruined cities, chiefly indeed in Judaea, but also throughout the country, in this respect more like the toAvns of the aboriginal inhabitants of Italy — “prae- ruptis oppida saxis” — than those of any other country. A city in a valley, instead of being as elseAvhere the rule, is here the exception; every valley has its hill, and on that hill a city is set that “ cannot be hid.” Prom still earlier times, the same tendency is obseiwable in their religious history. These multiplied heights Avere so Luke xix. 41; Mark xiil 2. See Chapter III. a See Chapter XII. 3 See Chapter IV. PALESTINE. 201 and High many natural altars: at Bethel,1 on Moriah,2 ai places. Ban/ at Gibeon,4 on Mount Zion,5 on Olivet,6 altars were successively erected. The national worship down to the time of Hezekiah may almost be said to have been a religion of high places. There was no one height of itself sufficient to command universal acquiescence. In this equality of mountains, all were alike eligible. political 3. Again, the combination of this mass of hills and1Scon- with its border plains and with the deserts from quests. which it rises, has deeply affected its political and military history. The allocation of the particular portions of Palestine to its successive inhabitants, will best appear as we proceed. But the earliest and most fundamental dis¬ tributions of territory are according to the simple division of the country into its highlands and lowlands. “The Amalekites,” that is, the Bedouin tribes, “dwell in the land of the south,” that is, on the desert frontier, — “ and the Hittites and the Jebusites and the Amorites dwell in the mountains,” that is, the central mass of hills — ■“ and the Canaanites dwell by the sea and by the ‘side’ of Jordan,”7 8 that is, on the western and eastern plains. And of the early inhabitants thus enumerated, those who at least by their names are brought into the sharpest geographical con¬ trast, are the Amorites or “ dwellers on the summits,” and the Canaanites or “ lowlanders.” But it is in the history of the conquest of Pales- and1” liow- tine, that this peculiarity is the most strongly brought out. In most countries which consist of mountains and lowlands, two historical results are observ¬ able ; first, that, in the case of invasion, the aboriginal in¬ habitants are driven to the mountains, and the plains have fallen into the hands of the conquerors ; secondly, that, in the case of semi-barbarous countries so situated, the plains are the secure, the mountains the insecure parts of the region. In Palestine, both these results are reversed. Al- 1 Gen. xii. 8. 8 Gen. xx ii. 4. 8 Judges xviii. 30. 4 1 Kings iii. 4 ; 2 Chron. i. 3. 6 2 Sam. vi. 17. 2 Sam. xv. 32 ; 1 Kings xi. 7. 7 Numb. xiii. 29. Compare Joshua * xi. 3. 8 See Ewald (2nd edit.), i. 315 ; and Gesonius, in vocibus. Compare Dent, i., 7, 19, 20, 44. “ The mountain of the Amorites.” 202 SINAI AND PALESTINE. though some few of the ancient Amorite tribes, such as the Jebusites, retained their strongholds in the hills for many years after the first conquest of Joshua, yet by far the ma¬ jority of instances recorded as resisting the progress of the conquerors are in the plains. The hills of Judah and Ephraim were soon occupied, but “Manasseh could not drive out the inhabitants of Bethshan, . . nor Taanach, . . nor Dor, . . . nor Ibleam, . . . nor Megiddo, . . "from the plains of Esdraelon and Sharon,] but the Canaanites would dwell in the land. Neither did Asher drive out the inhabitants of Accho, . . nor of Zidon, . . nor . . of Achzib . . [in the bay of Acre, and the coast of Phoenicia] . . but the Asherites dwelt among the Canaanites, the inhabitants of the land, for they did not drive them out.”1 “And the Amorites forced the children of Dan into the mountain, for they would not suffer them to come down into the valley. But the Amorites would dwell in Mount Ileres in Aijalon and Shaalbim, yet the hand of the house of Joseph prevailed, so that they became tributaries.”2 We are not left to conjecture as to one at least of the reasons. “The Lord was with Judah, and he drave out the inhabitants of the mountain ; but could not drive out the inhabitants of the valley — because they had chariots of iron .”3 The Israelites were a nation of infantry. Their nomadic life, in this respect, differing from that of the modern Bedouins, was without horses ; and even after their settlement in Palestine, horses and chariots were unknown as a national possession until the reign of Solomon. The Canaanites, on the contrary, were famous for their chariots. One chief alone is described as possessing “nine hundred;”4 and even after the partial introduction of them during the Jewish monarchy, the contrast between the infantry of the Israelites and the chariots of the armies from Damascus, suggested the same comparison that might have been made by the Canaanites in the days of Joshua. “ Their gods are gods of the k mountains therefore they are stronger than we ; but let us fight against them in the ‘level,’ and surely we shall 1 Judges i. 27 — 32. a Ibid. 34. 3 Judges i. 19. See also Josh xvii. 16. 4 Jabin : Judges, iv. 3. PALESTINE. 203 be stronger than they.” A glance at the description of Palestine given above, will show how exactly this tallies with the actual results. Roads for wheeled vehicles are un¬ known now in any part of Palestine ; and in the earlier history they are very rarely mentioned as a general means of communication. The “ chariots”1 of Jehu and of Ahab are only described as driven along the plain of Esdraelon. Under the Romans, indeed, the same astonishing genius for road-making which carried the Via Flaminia through the Apennines, and has left traces of itself in the narrow pass of the Scironian rocks, may have increased the faci¬ lities of communication in Palestine, and hence, perhaps, the mention of the chariot-road through the pass from Jerusalem to Gaza,2 where the Ethiopian met Philip. But under ordinary circumstances, they must have always been more or less impracticable in the mountain regions. It was in the plains, accordingly, that the enemies of Israel were usually successful. Another cause, not indeed for the success of the Canaanites’ resistance, but for the tenacity with which they clung to the plains, is to be seen in their great superiority both for agricultural and nomadic purposes to anything in the hills of Judsea or Ephraim. a Judah,” we are told, at first “ took Gaza, and Askelon, and Ekron.” But these cities, with their coasts, soon fell again into the hands of the Philistines, whether the old inhabitants, or, as there is some reason to think, a new race of settlers, subsequent to the first conquest. And then, for more than four centuries, a struggle was main¬ tained till the reign of David. It was the richest portion of the country, and the Philistines might well fight for it to the last gasp. In the same way, Tyre and Sid on, Accho and Gaza, cared but little for the new comers, if they could but retain their hold on the corn-fields and the sea.3 Distinction And this brings us to the other peculiarity which between distinguishes Palestine at the present day, fr m 1 The only exceptions are the cha- 1 Kings xxii. 38; 2 Kings ix. 28, riots in which the royal corpses were xxiii. 30. carried to Samaria and Jerusalem. 2 Acts viii. 28. J See Chapter \ L 204 SINAI AND PALESTINE. other half-civilised regions. In Greece and Italy PaIestine and Spain, it is the mountainous tract which is he- set with banditti — the level country which is safe. countdeB- In Palestine, on the contrary, the mountain tracts are com¬ paratively secure, though infested by villages of hereditary ruffians here and there; but the plains, with hardly an excep¬ tion, are more or less dangerous. Perhaps the most striking contrast is the passage from the Hauran and plain of Damas¬ cus, to the uplands of the Lebanon and Anti-Lebanon, with their quiet villages, and fruit-gardens, breathing an atmos¬ phere almost of European comfort and security. The cause is soon told. Palestine, as we have before seen, is an island in a desert waste — but from this very fact it is also an island in the midst of pirates. The Bedouin tribes are the corsairs of the wilderness ; the plains which run into the mountains are the creeks into which they naturally pene¬ trate. Far up the plains of Philistia and Sharon come the Arabs of the Till; deep into the centre of Palestine, into the plain of Esdraelon, especially when the harvest has left the fields clear for pasturage, come the Arabs of the Ilauran and of Gilead. The same levels which of old gave an opening to the chariots of the Canaanites, now admit the inroad of these wandering shepherds. On one occasion, even in ancient times, there was a migration of Bedouins into Palestine on a gigantic scale ; when the Midianites and Ainalekites, and children of the east, encamped against the Israelites in their maritime plain, “ with their cattle and their tents,” and “ pitched” their tents in Esdraelon, and “lay along the valley like grasshoppers for multitude.”1 This, doubtless, was a great exception, and in the flourishing times of the Jewish Monarchy and of the Roman Empire, the hordes of the Desert were kept out, or were, as in the case of the tribes of Petra in the time of the Herods, brought within the range of a partial civilisation. But now, like the sands of their own deserts which engulf the monuments of Egypt, no longer defended by a watchful and living population, they have broken in upon the country far and near ; 1 Judges vi. 3, 5, B3 ; vil 12. See Chapter IX. PALESTINE, 205 Scenery of Palestine. Yet the and in the total absence of solitary dwelling-places — in the gathering together of all the settled inhabitants into villages, — and in the walls which, as at Jerusalem, enclose the cities round, with locked gates and guarded towers — we see the effect of the constant terror which they in¬ spire. It is the same peculiarity of Eastern life, as was exhibited in its. largest proportions in the vast fortifica¬ tions with which Nineveh and Babylon shut themselves in against the attacks of the Bedouins of the Assyrian Desert, and in the great wall which still defends the Chinese empire against the Mongolian tribes, who are to the civilisation of Northern Asia, what the Arabs are to that of the south. IX. What has already been said of the physical c o n f i g u r a t i o n o f t h e c o u n t r y , m u s 1 1 o a g r e a t e x t e 1 1 1 have anticipated what can be said of its scenery, character of scenery depends so much on its form and colour, as well as its material — on its expression as well as its fea¬ tures — that, unless something more is said, we shall have but a faint image of what was presented to the view of Pa¬ triarch or Prophet, King or Psalmist. Those who describe Palestine as beautiful must have either a very inaccurate notion of what constitutes beauty of scenery, or must have viewed the - country through a highly coloured medium. As a general rule, not only is it without the two main elements of beauty — variety of outline and variety of colour — but the features rarely so group together as to form any distinct or impressive combination. The tangled and featureless hills of the lowlands of Scotland1 and North Wales are perhaps the nearest likeness accessible to Englishmen, of the general landscape of Palestine south of the plain of Esdraelon. # 1. Rounded hills, chiefly of a gray colour2 — gray Character of hills. partly from the limestone of which they are all formed, partly from the tufts of gray shrub with which their sides are thinly clothed, and from the prevalence of the 1 Compare Miss Martincau, Eastern Life, Part III., c. 1. Dr. Richardson compares the approach from Jaffa to the road between Sanquhar and Leadhill (ii. 223). a This gray colour is exchanged for white in the hills immediately eastward of Jerusalem. p. 1G8. Seo Chapter L, Part n. SINAI AND PALESTINE. 206 olive— their sides formed into concentric rings of. rock, which must have served in ancient times as supports to the terraces, of which there are still traces to their very summits ; valleys, or rather the meetings of these gray slopes with the beds of dry watercourses at their feet — long sheets of hare rock1 laid like flagstones, side by side, along the soil — these are the chief features of the greater part of the scenery of the historical parts of Pales¬ tine.2 In such a landscape the contrast of every excep¬ tion is doubly felt. The deep shade of the mountain wall beyond the Jordan, — or again the level plains of the coast and of Esdraelon, each cut out of the mountains as if with a knife, — become striking features where all else is mono¬ tonous. The eye rests with peculiar eagerness on the few instances in which the gentle depressions become deep ravines, as in those about Jerusalem, or those leading down to the valley of the Jordan; or in which the mountains assume a bold and peculiar form, as Lebanon and ITer- mon at the head of the whole country, or Tabor, Nebi- Samuel, and the “ Frank mountain,” in the centre of the hills themselves. 2. These rounded hills, occasionally stretching . , , -i i ,• n.i , T Vegetation. into long undulating ranges, are lor the most part bare of wood. Forest and large timber (with a few excep¬ tions, hereafter to be mentioned), are not known. Corn¬ fields and, in the neighbourhood of Christian populations as at Bethlehem,3 vineyards creep along the ancient terraces. In the spring, the hills and valleys are covered with thin grass and the aromatic shrubs which clothe more or less almost the whole of Syria and Arabia. But they also glow with what is peculiar to Palestine, a profusion of wild flowem, daisies, the white flower called the Star of Bethlehem, but especially with a blaze of scarlet flowers of all kinds, chiefly anemones, wild tulips, and poppies.4 Of all the ordinary aspects of the country, 1 Well described by Richardson, ii. 374. 2 Keith, in his Land of Israel, has ex¬ actly caught this character. “ The rounded and rocky hills of Judaea swell out in empty, unattractive, and even repulsivo barrenness, with nothing to relieve the eye or captivate the fancy.” (P. 429.) See Appendix in v. Gibeali. 3 Well described in Lynch’s Expedi¬ tion, p. 225. 4 See Chap. I, Pait ii. p. 166. PALESTINE. 207 this blaze of scarlet colour is perhaps the most peculiar ; and, to those who first enter the Holy Land, it is no wonder that it has suggested the touching and significant name of “ the Saviour’s blood-drops.” It is this contrast between the brilliant colours of the flowers and the sober hue of the rest of the landscape, that gives force to the words, — “ Consider the lilies of the field. . . For I say unto you, that Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.”1 Whatever was the special flower designated by the lily of the field, the rest of the passage indicates that it was of the gorgeous hues which might be compared to the robes of the great king. The same remark applies, though in a less degree, to the frequent mention of the same flower in the Canticles, — “ I am the rose of Sharon, the lily of the valleys,” “ as the lily among thorns,” u he feedeth among the lilies,” 66 he is gone to gather lilies.”2 The same general bareness and poverty sets off in the same way the rare exceptions in the larger forms of vegetable life. The olive, the fig, and the pome¬ granate, which form the usual vegetation of the country, are so humble in stature, that they hardly attract the eye till the spectator is amongst them. Then indeed the twisted stems and silver foliage of the first, the dark broad leaf of the second, the tender green and scarlet blossoms of the third, are amongst the most beautiful of sights, even when stripped of the associations which would make the tamest of their kind venerable. On the lower slopes of the hills oli ves especially are more or less thickly scattered, with that peculiar colour and form which they share in common with those of Greece and of Italy ; to English eyes, best represented by aged willows.3 But there are a few trees which emerge from this general obscurity. Foremost stand the cedars4 of Lebanon. In ancient Trees. Olives. Cedars : 1 See Chapter XIII. 2 Song of Solomon ii. 1. 2, 16 ; vi. 2, 3. 8 Those who have never seen an olive-tree, must read the description in Ruskin’s Stones of Venice. Vol. iii. p. 175-177. 4 With the exception of the cedars, I have confined myself in this enume¬ ration strictly to the trees of Palestine. But it is worth while to notice that tlw foliage of Anti-Libanus is chiefly that of the light poplar, so frequent on the table-lands of Spain ; of Lebanon, that of tho pine — whether the mountain pine, oi 208 SINAI AND PALESTINE. times the sides of that monntain were covered with them. Now, they are only found in one small hollow on its north¬ western slope. But there can he little doubt that they were always confined to the range of Lebanon, and Conflned t0 therefore, properly speaking, were not trees of Pal- LebaiJon* estine at all.1 The expression of Keble, — “ Ear o’er the cedar shade some tower of giant old,” never could have been true of the woods and ruins of Judaea. It was the very remoteness of this noble tree, combined with its majestic height and sweeping branches, that made it, one may almost say, an object of religious reverence. It is hardly ever named without the addition, either of the lofty mountain where it grew, — “ the cedars of Lebanon,”— or of some epithet implying its gran¬ deur and glory, — “ the trees of the Lord,” the “ cedars which lie hath planted,” “ the tall cedars,” “ the cedars high and lifted up,” “ whose height is like the height of the cedars,” “ spread abroad like the cedar,” “ with fair branches,” “ with a shadowing shroud,” “ of an high stature,” “his top among the thick boughs,” “his height exalted above all the trees of the field,” “his boughs multiplied, his branches long,” “ fair in his greatness,” “ in the length of his branches,” “ by the multitude of his branches.”2 These expressions clearly indicate that to them the cedar was a portent, a grand and awful work of God. The words would never have been used had it been a familiar sight amongst their ordinary gardens, as it is in ours. It is said that the clergy of the Greek Church still offer up mass under their branches, as though they formed a natural temple, and that the Arabs call them the “trees of God.” This may now be a homage to the the stone pine, such as the forest on the Dlains of Beyrout. See Keith’s Scrip¬ ture Lands. There is a beautiful passage in M. Van de Velde’s Travels, describ¬ ing the cypresses of Lebanon, which are occasionally mentioned in the Old Testa¬ ment. 1 It is not clear from the account in 1 Kings v. whether the cedars of Le¬ banon which Hiram’s workmen cut down for Solomon, and sent on rafts to Joppa for the building of the temple, wore within the Jewish dominions at that time or not. But the stress laid on the skill of the Sidonians as wood-cutters, and the fact that Solomon sent his own tax- gatherers there, perhaps implies that they were. 2 Isa. ii. 13; xxxvii. 24; Amos, ii. 9; Ezek. xxxi. 3-10; Ps. xxix. 5; xcii. 1 3, civ. 16. PALESTINE. 209 Oaks. extreme antiquity of those which are left ; hut it may alsc be a continuation of the ancient feeling towards them which filled the hearts of the poets of Israel. Another more practical indication of their size, as compared to any Pal¬ estine timber, is the fact, that from the earliest times the 7 have always been used for all the great works of Jewish architecture. They were so employed for Solomon’s Temple, and again for the Temple of Zerubbabel, when nothing but sheer necessity could have induced the impov¬ erished people to send so far for their timber.1 They were used yet once again, probably for the last time, in Constan¬ tine’s Church of the Nativity at Bethlehem. When the ceiling of that ancient edifice was last repaired, the rafters were no longer from the forests of Lebanon, but gifts from our own oaks by King Edward IV. Passing from these trees, which, secluded as the}' are in their retired nook on the heights of Lebanon, could therefore illustrate the scenery of Palestine only by contrast, we come to those which must always have pre¬ sented striking objects in the view, wherever they appeared. The first were those to which the Hebrews in Palestine emphatically gave the name of “ the tree,” or “ the strong tree,”2 namely, the “Turkish oak” (“el” or “elah,” in Arabic Sindian) , and those to which the same name was given by a very slight variation of inflexion (“allon”) — the turpentine or terebinth,— in Arabic Butm. The trees are different in kind ; but their general ap¬ pearance is so similar, as well as the name which the Hebrews (doubtless from this similarity) applied to both, that they may both be considered together.3 Probably the most remarkable specimen of the oak which the traveller Abraham’s sees, is that called “ the oak of Abraham,” near oak- Hebron, and of which an elaborate account is given by Hr. Robinson.4 A familiar example of the terebinth is that at the north-west corner of the walls of Jerusalem, Terebinths. 1 Ezra iii. L 2 The same word, which in the Desert, is applied to the Palm; as in the proper names Elirn and Elath (See Chapter I. p. 83), and in Chaldee to the tree of Daniel’s vision. 8 Thov are once expressly distinguished as “ the terebinth (elah) and the oak” (allon). Isaiah vi. 13. But, on the other hand, they are also confounded ; the same tree, apparently, which is called elali in Josh. xxiv. 26, being called allon in Gen xxxv. 4. See Appendix. 4 Vol. ii. p. 443. 210 SINAI AND PALESTINE. which forms a marked object in any view including that portion of the city. They are both tall and spread¬ ing trees, with dark evergreen foliage ; and by far the largest in height and breadth of any in Palestine. But these, too, are rare ; and this also is indicated by the allusions to them in the Old Testament. In a less degree than the cedars of Lebanon, but more frequently, from their being brought into closer contact with the history of Israel, they are described as invested with a kind of religious sanctity, and as landmarks of the country, to a degree which would not be possible in more thickly wooded regions. Each successive step of s a ere a the first patriarchal migration is marked by a halt tree6: under one or more of these towering trees. Under the oak of Moreh at Shechem, and the oak of Mamre at Hebron, was built the altar and pitched the tent of Abraham. And each of these aged trees became the centre of a long suc¬ cession of historical recollection. Underneath the Gak of oak of Moreh, or its successor,1 Jacob buried, as in Morell, a consecrated spot, the images and the ornaments of his Mesopotamian retainers. In the same place, as it would seem, did Joshua set up the u great stone” that was “ by the sanctuary of the Lord ;”2 and the tree, or the spot, appears to have been known in the time of the Judges, as the traditional site of these two events, by the double name of the 66 oak of the enchantments,” and 66 the oak of the pillar.”3 Still more remarkable was the history of the u oak of Mamre.” There are here indeed two rival claimants. The LXX, translating the word “allon” by dpvg9 evidently regards it as identical with elah, and therefore, as an oak ; and it is curious that the only large tree now existing in the neighbourhood, is that already alluded to as the chief of a group of ilexes in the valley of Eshcol, about a mile from Hebron ; and is, in all probability, the same, or in the same of Mamre. 1 Gen. xxxv. 4. 2 Joshua xxiv. 26. 3 Judges ix. 6, 37. In each case mis¬ translated ‘ plain,’ from the Vulgate ( convallis ). In the second case Meo- nenim, signilies enchantments,” in al¬ lusion to Gen. xxxv. 4, whero the ear¬ rings appear to have been amulets, to prevent the entrance of ill-omened words, according to a practice reproved by St. August)*1'' amongst the Christiana of Africa. PALESTINE. 211 situation, as that alluded to in the twelfth century by Saewulf, and in the thirteenth and fourteenth by Mande- ville and Sanutus, as possessed of extraordinary virtues, and the subject of a singular legend. But the tradition in the time of Josephus was attached to a terebinth.1 None such now remains ; but there can be little doubt that it stood within the ancient enclosure which he mentions, and of which ruins still remain to the north of Hebron, under the name of “ Abraham’s house.” It was a gigantic tree, supposed to be coeval with the creation. In the time of Constantine2 it was hung with images and with a picture representing the Entertainment of the Angels— and underneath its shade was held a fair, in which Christians, Jews, and Arabs assembled every summer to traffic, and to honour, each with his own rites, the sacred tree and its accompanying figures. Constantine abolished tlie worship and the images, but the tree, with the fair, remained to the time of Theodosius.3 It gave its name to the spot, and was still standing within the church which was built around it, till the seventh century ; and in later times marvellous tales were told of its having sprung from the staff of one of the angelic visitants, and of its blazing with fire yet remaining always fresh.4 It is said to have been burnt down in the seventeenth century.5 f b th i These are the two most remarkable of the trees and of ‘ The mentioned. But there are also others : the “ oak of wanderers, bethel,” under which Deborah, the nurse of Jacob, was interred, known by the name of the “ terebinth of tears ;”6 the “ oaks of the wanderers,” under which the nomad tribe of the Kenites was encamped in the north.7 And in all these cases, as they had at first been marked out as natural resting-places for the patriarchal or Arab encamp¬ ments, so they were afterwards in all probability the sacred trees and the sacred groves under which altars were built, 1 Josephus, Bell. Jud. iv. 9, I. 2 Eusebius, Vit. Const. 81 ; Demonst. Ev. y. 9. 3 Socrates, i. 18; Sozomon, Jud. xi. (Belaud, pp. 113, 114.) 4 Eustathius and Julius Africanus. (Reland, p. 112.) 5 Mariti. 0 Alien- Bachuth. (Ion. xxxv. 8. where “ an oak,” should bo u the oak.” 7 “ The plain (oaks) of Zaanaiin,’1 Judges, iv. 11. 212 SINAI AND PALESTINE. partly to the True God, partly to Astarte. One such grove, apparently with the remains of a sacred edifice, exists at Ilazori, near Baneas ; another, of singular beauty, on the hill of the lesser sources of the Jordan, at the ancient sanctuary of Dan.1 These instances are all more or less isolated. There is one district, however, where the oaks flourished and still flourish in such abundance as to constitute almost a forest. On the table-lands of Gilead are the thick oak-woods of Bashan, often alluded to in the Prophets,2 as presenting the most familiar image of forest scenery — famous in history, as the scene of the capture and death of Absalom, when he was caught amongst their tangled branches. Another tree, which breaks the uniformity of the Palms. Syrian landscape by the rarity of its occurrence, no less than by its beauty, is the Palm. It is a curious fact that this stately tree, so intimately connected with our associations of Judoea by the Homan coins, which represent her seated in captivity under its shade, is now almost unknown to her hills and valleys. Two or three m the garden of Jerusalem, some few perhaps at Nablous, one or two in the plain of Esdraelon — comprise nearly all the instances of the palm in central Palestine. In former times it was doubtless more common. In the valley of the Jordan, one of the most striking features used to be the immense palm-grove, seven miles long, which surrounded Jericho ; — of rvhich large remains were1 still visible in the seventh century and the twelfth, some even in the seventeenth f and of which relics are still to be seen, in the trunks of palms washed up on the shores of the Dead Sea,4 — preserved by the salt with which a long submersion in those strange waters has impregnated them. En-gedi, too, on the western side of the same lake, was known in early times as Hazazon-Tamar,5 “ the felling of palm-trees.” Now not one6 is to be seen in the deep thicket which surrounds its spring, and at 1 See Chapter XI. 4 Macmichael’s Journey, p. 207. See 2 Dm. ii. 13 ; Ezek. xxvii. 6. Chapter VII. 3 Arculf. (Marly Travellers, p. 7.) See- 5 Gen. xiv. 7 ; 2 Chr. xx 2. wulf (ibid. p. 23.) Shaw. p. 370. G Robinson, vol. ii. p. 211. PALESTINE. 213 Jericho even the solitary palm, for many years observed by travellers as the only remnant of its former glory, has disappeared. On Olivet, too, where now nothing is to be seen, but the olive and the fig-tree, there must have been at least some palms in ancient days. In the time of Ezra they went forth unto the mount to fetch for the Feast of Tabernacles “ olive-branches, and pine-branches, and myrtle-branches, and palm-branches, and branches of thick trees.”1 “ Bethany” in all probability derives its name, “ the house of dates,” from the same cause, and with this agrees the fact that the crowd which escorted our Lord to Jerusalem from Bethany 66 took, branches of palm-trees.”2 Still, it is probable that even then the palm was rarely found on the high land which forms the main portion of historical Palestine. It .is emphatically, as we have seen in the account of Sinai, the “ tree” of the Desert. It is always spoken of in Rabbinical writers as a tree of the valleys,3 not of the mountains. It grows naturally, and were it cultivated, might doubtless grow again in the tropical climate of the Valley of the Jordan. It is still found in great abundance on the maritime plains of Philistia and Phoenicia ; and doubtless from the palm- groves, which still strike the eye of the traveller in the neighbourhood of Jaffa and Beyrout, and which there probably first met the eye of the Western world, whether Greek, Roman, or Mediaeval, came the name of Phoenicia or 66 the Land of Palms.”4 Hence, too, at least: in recent times, came the branches, which distinguished the pilgrims of Palestine, from those of Rome, Com- postella and Canterbury, by the name of “ Palmer.” But the climate of the hill country must always have been too cold for their frequent growth.5 Those mi Olivet most likely were in gardens ; the very fact of the name of the “ City of Palm-trees,” applied as a distinguishing epithet to Jericho — the allusion to the palm-tree of En-gedi, as though found there and no! 1 Nehemiah viii. 15. For the myrtle trees on or near the same spot at the same period compare tho “myrtle trees that were in tho bottom,” Zecii. 1. 8, 10, 11. am 2 John xn. 13, 3 See Reland’s Palestine, 306, 368. 4 See Chapter VI. 6 Buckingham, p. 217. 214 SINAI AND PALESTINE. eisewr-er* — the mention of the palm-tree of Deborah at Ref eel,1 as a well-known and solitary landmark — orobably the same spot as that called Baal-Tamar,2 “ the sanctuary of the palm” — all indicate that the palm was on the whole then, as now, the exception and not the rule. Combined with the palm in ancient times was the sycomorea. Sycomore. This too was a tree of the plain,3 — chiefly (T the plain of the sea-coast — also, as we know by one cele¬ brated instance,4 in the plains of Jericho. As Jericho derived its name from the palms, so did Sycominopolis — the modern Caipha, — from the grove of syeomores, some of which still remain in its neighbourhood. There is one other tree, which is only to be found oleander* on the tropical banks of the J ordan, but too beautiful to be omitted ; the Oleander, with its bright blossoms and dark-green leaves, giving the aspect of a rich garden to any spot where it grows. It is, however, never alluded to in the Scriptures, unless, as has been conjectured, it is the “ tree planted by the 6 streams of water , which bringeth forth his fruit in due season,” and “ whose leaf shall not wither? 5 Geological X. The geological structure of Palestine, as of raiestme. Greece, is almost entirely limestone. The few ex¬ ceptions are in the Valley of the Jordan, which must be considered in its own place. This rocky character of the whole country has not been without its historical results. 1. Not only does the thirsty character of the whole East give a peculiar expression to any places where water may be had, but the rocky soil preserves their identity, and the wells of Palestine serve as the links by which each successive age is bound . to the other, in a manner which at first sight would be thought almost incredible. The name by which they are called of itself indicates their permanent character. The “ well” of the Hebrew and the Arab is carefully distinguished 1 Judges iv, 5. 2 Judges xx. 33. J “ Cedars made he as the sycomore trees in the vale (Shefela: i.e. the low country of Philistria) for abundance:” 1 Kings x. 27. anl 2 Chr. i. 15; ix. 27 ; also 1 Chr. xxvii. 28. See also the Mislma quoted in Reland’s Palestine, pp. 300, 368. 4 Luke xix. 4. 5 Ps. i. 3. See Ritter, Jordan, p. 301. PALESTINE. 215 and springs, from the “ spring.” The spring (am) is the bright, open source — the u eye' of the landscape— such as bubbles up amongst the crags of Sinai, or rushes forth m a copious stream from En-gedi or from Jericho. But the well (beer) is the deep hole bored far under the rocky surface by the art of man — the earliest traces of that art which these regions exhibit. By these orifices at the foot of the hills, surrounded by their broad margin of smooth stone or marble— a rough mass of stone covering the top — have always been gathered whatever signs of animation or civilisation the neighbourhood afforded. They were the scenes of the earliest contentions of the shepherd-patriarchs with the inhabitants of the land ; the places of meeting with the women who came down to draw water from their rocky depths — of Eliezer with Ilebecca, of Jacob with Rachel, of Moses with Zipporah, of Christ with the woman of Samaria. They were the natural halting-places of great caravans, or wayfaring men, as when Moses gathered together the people to the well of Moab, which the princes dug with their sceptered staves,1 and therefore the resort of the plunderers of the Desert, of “ the noise of archers in the places of drawing water.”2 What they were ages ago in each ot these respects they are still. The shepherds may still be seen leading their flocks of sheep and goats to their margin ; the women still come with their pitchers and talk to those a who sit by the well ;” the traveller still looks forward to it as his resting-place for the night, if it be in a place of safety ; or, if it be in the neighbourhood of the wilder Bedouins, is hurried on by his dragoman or his escort without halting a moment ; and thus, by their means, not only is the image of the ancient life of the country preserved, but the scenes of sacred events are identified, which under any other circumstances would have perished. The wells of Beersheba in the wide frontier-valley of Palestine are indisputable witnesses of the life of Abraham.3 The well of Jacob, at Shechem, is a monument of the earliest and of the latest events 1 Numb, xxi 16, 18. a Judges v. 11 . 3 Seo Chapter I., Part ii. p. 1G6. 216 SINAI AND PALESTINE. of sacred history, of the caution of the prudent patriarch, no less than of the freedom of the Gospel there proclaimed bv Christ.1 ✓ 2. Next to the wells of Syria, the most authen- i • • -1 n ii i i • ii -it Sepulchres. tic memorials ol the past times are the Sepulchres, and partly for the same reason. The tombs of ancient Greece or Rome lined the public roads with funeral pillars or towers. Grassy graves and marble monuments fill the churchyards and churches of Christian Europe. But the sepulchres of Palestine were, like the habitations of its earliest inhabitants, hewn out of the living limestone rock, and therefore indestructible as the rock itself. In this respect they resembled, though on a smaller scale, the tombs of Upper Egypt, and as there the traveller of the nineteenth century is confronted with the names and records of men who lived thousands of years ago, so also, in the excavations of the valleys which surround or approach Shiloh, Shechem, Bethel, and Jerusalem, he knows that he sees what were the last resting-places of the generations contemporary with Joshua, Samuel, and David. And the example of Egypt shows that the identification of these sepulchres even with their individual occupants is not so improbable as might be otherwise supposed. If the graves of Rameses and Osirei can still be ascertained, there is nothing improbable in the thought that the tombs of the patriarchs may have survived the lapse of twenty or thirty centuries. The rocky cave on Mount Hor must be at least the spot believed by Josephus to mark the grave of Aaron. The tomb of Joseph must be near one of the two monuments pointed out as such in the opening of the vale of Shechem. The sepulchre which is called the tomb of Rachel exactly agrees with the spot described as “a little way” from Bethlehem.2 The tomb of David, which was known with certainty at the time of the Christian era, may perhaps still be found under the mosque which bears his name on the modern Zion.3 Above all, the Cave i See Chapter V. ’ Oen. xxxv. 16. There is a cave underneath it See Sciiv^ar^e, p. 110. 8 See Chapter XIV. PALESTINE. 217 of Machpelah is concealed, beyond all reasonable doubt, by the mosque at Hebron.1 But with these exceptions, we must rest satisfied rather with the general than the particular interest of the tombs of Palestine. The proof of identity in each special instance depends almost entirely on the locality. Instead of the acres of inscriptions which cover the tombs of Egypt, not a single letter has been found in any ancient sepulchre of Palestine ; and tradition is, in this class of monuments, found to be unusually falla¬ cious. Although some of those which are described as genuine by Jewish authorities can neither be rejected nor received with positive assurance, such as the alleged sepulchres of Deborah, Barak, Abinoam, Jael, and Ileber, at Kedesh ;2 and of Pliineas, Eleazar, and Joshua, in the eastern ranges of Shechem ;3 yet the passion of the Mus¬ sulman conquerors of Syria for erecting mosques over the tombs of celebrated saints (and such to them are all the heroes of the Old Testament) has created so many fictitious sepulchres, as to throw doubt on all. Such are the tombs of Seth and Noah, in the vale of the Lebanon ; of Moses, on the west of the Jordan, in direct contra¬ diction to the Mosaic narrative ; of Samuel, on the top of Nebi-Samuel; of Sidon and Zebulon near Zidon and Tyre ; of Hoshea, in Gilead ; of Jonah, thrice over, in Judaea, in Phoenicia, and at Nineveh. Even the most genuine sepulchres are received as such by the highest Mussulman authorities on grounds the most puerile. The mosque of Hebron is justly claimed by them as the sanctuary of the tomb of Abraham, but their reason for believing it is thus gravely stated in the “ Torch of Hearts,” a work written by the learned Ali, son of Jafer-ar-Bayz, “ on the authenticity of the tombs of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.” “ I rely,” he says, “ on the testimony of Abu Horairuh, who thus expresses himself : — It was said by the Apostle of God. ‘ When the angel Gabriel made me take the nocturnal flight to Jerusalem, we passed over the tomb of Abraham, and he said Descend, and make a prayer with two genuflexions, 1 See Chapter L, Part ii. p. 1 69* 2 Schwarz©, 183. 3 Ibid 141, 150, 151 218 SINAI AND PALESTINE. for here is the sepulchre of thy father Abraham. Then we passed Bethlehem, and he said, Descend, for here was born thy brother Jesus. Then we came to Jerusalem.’ 5,1 It may be well to notice the probable cause of this un¬ certainty of Jewish, as contrasted with the certainty of Egyptian and, we might add, of European tradition on the subject of tombs. However strongly the reverence for sacred graves may have been developed in the Jews of later times, the ancient Israelites never seem to have entertained the same feeling of regard for the resting- places or the remains of their illustrious dead, as was carried to so high a pitch in the earlier Pagan and in the later Christian world. “ Let me bury my dead out of my sight” — “ No man knoweth of his sepulchre unto this day,”2 — express, if not the general feeling of the Jewish nation, at least the general spirit of the Old Testament. Every one knows the most signal instance in which this indifference was manifested. Somewhere, doubtless, near the walls of the old Jerusalem, or buried under its ruins, is the “ new sepulchre hewn in the rock,” where “the body of Jesus was laid,” but the precise spot, never indicated by the Evangelists, was probably unknown to the next generation, and will, in all likelihood, remain a matter of doubt always.3 In this respect the controversy regarding the Holy Sepulchre is an illustration of a general fact in sacred topography. Modern pilgrims are troubled at the supposition that such a locality should have been lost. The Israelites and the earlv Christians would have been surprised if it had been preserved. 3. But the tombs are only one class of a general pecu¬ liarity, resulting from the physical structure of Palestine. Like all limestone formations, the hills of Palestine abound in caves. How great a part the caverns of • • ^ ^ ^ CflY6S Greece played in the history and mythology of that country is well known. In one respect, indeed, those of Palestine were never likely to have been of the same im¬ portance, because, not being stalactitic, they could not so forcibly suggest to the Canaanite wanderers the images of 2 Gen. xxiii. 4; Dout. xxxiv. * See Chapter XIV. 1 Ibn Batouhah, 116 PALESTINE. 219 in ancient sylvan deities, which the Grecian shepherds natu- hmes. rally found in the grottoes of Parnassus and Ify- ' mettus. But from other points of view we never lose sight of them. In these innumerable rents, and cavities, and holes, we see the origin of the sepulchres, which still, partly natural, and partly artificial, perforate the rocky walls of the Judaean valleys ; the long line of the tombs, of which I have just spoken, beginning with the cave of Machpelah and ending with the grave of Lazarus, which was “ a cave, and a stone lay upon it,” and “ the sepulchre hewn in the rock, wherein never man before was laid.” We see in them also, the hiding-places which served sometimes for defence of robbers and insurgents, sometimes for the refuge of those “ of whom the world was not worthy the prototype of the catacombs of the early Chris¬ tians, of the caverns of the Vaudois and the Cove¬ nanters. The cave of Lot at Zoar; the cave of the five kings at Makkedah ; the “ caves and dens and strongholds,” and “ rocks” and “ pits” and “ holes,” in which the Israelites took shelter from the Midianites in the time of Gideon,1 from the Philistines in the time of Saul;2 the cleft3 of the cliff Etam, into which Samson went down to escape the vengeance of his enemies ; the caves4 of David at Adullam, and at Maon, and of Saul at En-gedi; the cave in which Obadiah hid the prophets of the Lord ;5 * the caves of the robber-hordes above the plain of Gennesareth ;G the sepulchral caves of the Gadarene demoniacs ;7 the cave of Jotapata,8 where Josephus and his countrymen concealed themselves in their la$t struggle, — continue from first to last what has truly been called the 66 cave-life” of the Israelite nation The stream of their national existence, like the actual streams of the Grecian rivers, from time to time disap¬ pears from the light of day, and runs under ground in 1 Judges vi. 2. 2 1 Sam. xiii. 6; xiv. 11. 3 Judges xv. 8. So it should be ren¬ dered. The passage is interesting, as illustrating the peculiar character of some of the hiding-places — not what wo should call caves — but holes sunk in the earth. “Behold the Ilebrows come forth out of the holes where they had hid themselves.” See Chapter IV. 1 1 Sam xxii. 1 ; xxiii. 25 ; xxiv. 3. 5 1 Kings, xviii. 4, 13; see Chapter IX. 0 Josephus, Bell. Jud. I., xvi. 2 — 4 . 7 Mark v. 3. 8 Josephus, Vita, 14, 15. 220 SINAI AND PALESTINE. these subterraneous recesses, — to hurst forth again when the appointed moment arrives,1 — a striking type, as it is a remarkable instance, of the preservation of the spiritual life of the Chosen People, “ burning, but not consumed,” “ chastened, but not killed.” In older times, there is no proof that these ancient grottoes were used for worship, either Canaanitisli or Israelite. The “ green trees,” the “high places,” served alike for the altars of the Lord, and for those of Baal and Ashtaroth. The free and open heavens for the one worship, the unrestricted sight of the sun and the host of heaven for the other, were alike alien to the sepulchral darkness of the holes and caverns of the rocks. The one instance of a cave, dedicated to religious worship before the fall of the Jewish nation, is that at the sources of the Jordan, consecrated by foreign settlers as a sanctuary of their own Grecian Pan.2 But the moment that the religion of Palestine fell into the hands of Europeans, it is hardly too much to say that, as far as sacred traditions are con¬ cerned, it became “a religion of caves” — of those very caves which in earlier times had been unhallowed by any religious influence whatever. Wherever a sacred • • Caves in association had to he iixed, a cave was imme- modem diately selected or found as its home. First in antiquity is the grotto of Bethlehem, already in the second century regarded by popular belief as the scene of the Na¬ tivity. Next comes the grotto on Mount Olivet, selected as the scene of our Lord’s last conversations before the Ascen¬ sion. These two caves, as Eusebius emphatically asserts, were the first seats of the worship established by the Em¬ press Helena, to which was shortly afterwards added a third — the sacred cave of the sepulchre. To these were rapidly added the cave of the Invention of the Cross, the cave of the Annunciation at Nazareth, the cave of the Agony at Gethsemane, the cave of the Baptist in the “ wilderness of St. John,” the cave of the shepherds of Bethlehem. And then again, partly perhaps the cause, partly the effect of this consecration of grottoes, began the caves of 1 See Hengstenbcrg on Psalm lvii. 1 ; Ewald’s Geschichte, voL v. p. 25. “ See Chapter XI. PALESTINE. 221 hermits. There was the cave of St. Pelagia on Mount Olivet, the cave of St. Jerome, St. Paula, and St. Eustochium at Bethlehem, the cave of St. Saba in the ravines of the Kedron, the remarkable cells hewn or found in the precipices of the Quarantania or Mount of the Temptation above Jericho. In some few instances this selection of grot¬ toes would coincide with the events thus intended to be per¬ petuated, as for example the hiding-places of the prophets on Carmel, and the sepulchres of the patriarchs and of our Lord. But in most instances the choice is made without the sanction, in some instances, in defiance, of the sacred narrative. No one would infer from the mention of the “inn” or “house” of the Nativity, or of the entrance of the Angel of the Annunciation to Mary, that those events took place in caves. The very fact that, in the celebrated legend, it is a house, and not a grotto, which is transplanted to Loretto, is an indication of what would be the natural belief. All our common feelings are repugnant to the transference of the scenes of the Agony and Ascension from the free and open sides of the mountain to the narrow seclusion of subterraneous excavations. It is possible, as we are often reminded, that the very fact of caverns being so frequently used for places of dwelling and resort in Palestine, would account for the absence of a more specific allusion to them ; for grottoes are stables at Bethlehem still; and the lower stories of houses at Nazareth are excavated in the rock. But the more probable explanation is to be found in the fact, that after the devastating storm of the Homan conquest had swept away the traces of sacred recollections in human habitations, the inhabitants or pilgrims who came to seek them, would seek and find them in the most strongly marked features of the neighbourhood. These, as we have seen, would be the caves. Helena, by the con¬ secration of two of the most remarkable, would set the example ; the practice of the hermits, already begun in the rock-hewn tombs of Egypt, would encourage the belief of this sanctity. And thus the universality of the connection between grottoes and sacred events, which in later times provokes suspicion, in early times would only 222 SINAI AND PALESTINE. render the minds of pilgrims more callous to the improba¬ bilities of each particular instance.1 4. I have dwelt at length on the history of the Legendary caves, because it is the only instance of a close con- cunositl('s- nection between the history or the religion of Palestine, and any of its more special natural features. In some few cases, che local legends may be traced to similar peculiarities. (1.) The stones called “ Elijah’s melons,” on Mount Carmel, and 66 the Virgin Mary’s peas,” near Bethlehem, are instances of crystallisation well known in limestone formations. They are so called, being the supposed pro¬ duce of those two plots turned into stone, from the refusal of the owners to supply the wants of the prophet and the saint. Another celebrated example may be noticed in the petrified lentils of the workmen at the great Pyramid, as seen by Strabo at its base.2 In all three instances the traces of these3 once well known relics have now almost en¬ tirely disappeared. (2.) Another peculiarity of the limestone rock has given birth to the legendary scene of the destruction of Senna¬ cherib’s army. Two pits were formerly pointed out near Bethlehem as the grave of the Assyrian host. One still remains. It is an irregular opening in the rocky ground, exactly similar to those which may be seen by hundreds, in the wild limestone district, called the Karst, above Trieste. The real scene of the event is probably elsewhere.4 (3.) The limestone, which is usually white or grey, is occasionally streaked with red. It is in these reddish veins that the pilgrims fancied they saw the marks of the drops of blood in the so-called Scala-Santa ; or on the rock near Jerusalem, of late years pointed out as the scene of the martyrdom of Stephen. (4.) The black and white stones — usually called volcanic — found along the shores of the sea of Galilee, have been 1 See Cl vpter XIV. 2 Strabo, xvii. These petrified len¬ tils were \ robably the same as the pe¬ trified fruits said to have been in the Dossession of Omar Ibn Abd-al Aziz, Caliph of Egypt, in the 99th year of the Hejira. In this version of the story, they were supposed to be the relies of the general petrifaction of those which had supported Pharaoh at the time of the Exodus. Weil’s Legends, p. 121, 122. 3 Clarke, v. 182. “Those on Mount Carmel wore carried off by Djezzar Pasha for cannon balls.” Clarke, iv. 117. 4 See Chapter 1Y. PALESTINE. 223 transformed by Jewish fancy into the traces of the tears of Jacob in search of Joseph.1 (5.) It is not of the nature of limestone rocks to assume fantastic forms, and in this respect the contrast between the legends of Palestine and Sinai is most apparent. Some few however there are ; their very slightness indicating that they have not been the occasion, but only the handles of the stories appended to them. The cavity of the footmark on Mount Olivet ; the fissures in the rocks “ that were rent,” and the supposed entombment of Adam’s skull, in Golgotha ; the petrifaction of the ass at Bethany ; the sinuous mark of the Virgin’s girdle by Gethsemane ; the impression of Elijah’s form on the rocky bank by the roadside, near the convent of Mar Elias, between Beth¬ lehem and Jerusalem,2 are perhaps the only objects in which the form of the rocks can be supposed to have suggested the legends. But another place will occur for speaking of these more particularly.3 It is worth while to enumerate these instances, trifling as they are, in order to illustrate the slightness of foun¬ dation which the natural features of Palestine afford for the mythology, almost inevitably springing out of so long a series of remarkable events. And this is in fact the final conclusion which is to be drawn from the character, or rather want of character, presented by the general scenery. If the first feeling be disap¬ pointment, yet the second may well be thankfulness. There is little in these hills and valleys on which the imagination can fasten. Whilst the great seats of Greek and Roman religion — at Delphi and Lebadea, by the lakes of Alba and of Aricia, — strike even the indif¬ ferent traveller as deeply impressive — Shiloh and Bethel on the other hand, so long the sanctuaries and oracles of God, almost escape the notice even of the zealous antiquarian in the maze of undistinguished hills which encompass them. The first view of Olivet impresses us chiefly by its bare matter-of-fact appearance ; the first approach to the hills of Judaea reminds the English 1 See Sandys, p. 191. Van Eginont, 364. 2 See Quaresimus, vol. II.; vi. 8. 3 See Chapter XIV. 224 SINAI AND PALESTINE. traveller not of the most hut of the least striking portions of the mountains of his own country. Yet all this renders the Holy Land the fitting cradle of a religion which ex¬ pressed itself not through the voices of rustling forests, or the clefts of mysterious precipices, hut through the souls and hearts of men, — which was destined to have no home on earth, least of all in its own birthplace, — which has at¬ tained its full dimensions only in proportion as it has trav¬ elled further from its original source, to the daily life and homes of nations as far removed from Palestine in thought and feeling, as they are in climate and latitude — which alone, of all religions, claims to be founded not on fancy on feeling, but on Fact and Truth. CHAPTER III. JUDyEA AND JERUSALEM. Gen. xlix. 9, 11, 12. “ Judah is a lion’s whelp : from the prey, my son, thou art gone up : he stooped down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion ; who shall rouse him up ? — Binding his foal unto the vine, and his ass’s colt unto the choice vine ; he washed his garments in wine, and his clothes in the blood of grapes : his eyes shall be red with wine, and his teeth white with milk.” Psalm lxxvi. 2. “In Salem is his ‘covert,’ and his ‘ lair ’ in Zion.” J u dje A : — I. The “south” frontier — Simeon. — II. Mountain country of Judah — Lion of Judah — Vineyards — Fenced cities — Bethlehem — Capital cities — Hebron — Jerusalem. Jerusalem : — I. Exterior aspect. 1. Long obscurity — Jebus — Mountain fastness. 2. Ravines of Kedron and Hinnom. 3. Compactness. 4. Surrounding moun¬ tains. 5. Central situation. — II. Interior aspect. 1. Hills of the city. 2. Tem¬ ple-mount — Rock of the Sakrah — Spring. 3. Walls — Palaces — Ruins. — III. Mount of Olives — Slight connection with the earlier history '-Presence of Christ — ■ Bethany — Scene of triumphal entry — Conclusion. SKETCH-MAP OF THE SITUATION OF JERUSALEM, 41 * Scene of the Lamentation oyer Jerusalem (p. 193). Note.— The certain sites are in black, the uncertain in red JUD2EA AND JERUSALEM. The southern frontier of Palestine almost imper- jup*a. ceptibly loses itself in the desert of Sinai. It is « south* sometimes called the land of “ Goshen/’1 or the F,011tier- ic frontier/’ doubtless from the same reason as the more fa¬ mous tract between the cultivated Egypt and the Arabian desert, in which the Israelites dwelt before the Exodus. But it is more commonly known as “ the south/’ “ the south country.” Abraham “ went up out of Egypt into the south.” u He went on his journeys from the south .even unto Bethel.” u Isaac dwelt in the south country.” Here, in the wide pas¬ tures between the hills and the actual Desert, the Patriarchs fed their flocks ; here were the wells, — the first regular wells that are met by the traveller as he emerges from the wil¬ derness — Moladah, Lahai-Roi, and, above all, Beersheba.2 The exact limits of this “ southern frontier” are, of course, difficult to be determined. Its main sweep, however, was through the vast undulating plain which contains the greater part of these wells, immediately under the hills of Judsea, now known as the Wady Kibab, probably what in former times was called the 66 valley,” i. e. the “ torrent-bed” or Wady of Gerar.3 After the Patriarchal times, it has but few recollections. It was indeed the first approach of the Israelites to their promised home, when the spies ascended from Kadesh “ by the south,”4 but not that by which they finally entered. It was then still what it had 1 Josh. x. 41, xi. 16. 2 Robinson (i. 300) describes two, Van do Velde (ii. 13G) jive wells. * Gen. xxvi. 17, 19, “ Nachal” (see Ap¬ pendix). Numb, xiv 25; 1 Sam. xv. 5; 1 Chr. iv. 39 (lxx. “ Gerar” for “ Gedor”) See Chapter I., Part ii. p. 1G6. 4 Numb. xiii. 22. 228 SINAI AND PALESTINE. been in the clays of Abraham — a nomadic country, thougn with less illustrious sheykhs ; the Amalekites dwelt in the land of the south,”1 and after the occupation of. Canaan by Joshua, “ the children of the Kenite, Moses’ father- in-law,” with a true Bedouin instinct, “ went up into the wilderness of Judah, which lieth in the south of Arad,”2 and between them the country was shared. And the latest notices of this region agree with the earliest. The Amalekites of the Desert were still there, in the reign of Saul, with the Kenites amongst them, “ with their sheep, and oxen, and lambs ;”3 and again, in the close of his reign, they broke in once more upon the country from which he had driven them, upon “ the south of the Cherethites and the south of Caleb, and burned Ziklag with fire.”4 Most of the habitable places in these parts are called “ Hazer that is, they were merely the unwalled villages of Bedouins. The names of some indicate that they were stations of passage, like those which now are to be seen on the great line of Indian transit between Cairo and Suez. In “ Beth-marcaboth,” “ the house of chariots,” and “ Hazar-Susim,” “ the village of horses,” we recognise the depots and stations for the “ horses” and “ chariots” such as those which in Solomon’s time went to and fro be¬ tween- Egypt and Palestine.5 To Simeon, the fierce and lawless tribe, the dry “ south” was given, for “ out of the portion of Judah was the inheritance of the children of Simeon ; for the part of the children of Judah was too much for them ; therefore the children of Simeon had their inheritance within the inheritance of them.”0 In the prophecy of Jacob he is “ divided and scattered in that of Moses he is omitted altogether. Amongst these Bedouin villages his lot was cast; and as time rolled on, the tribe gradually crossed the imperceptible boundary between civilisation and bar¬ barism, between Palestine and the Desert ; and, in “ the days of Hezekiah,” they wandered forth to the east to seek pasture for their flocks, and “smote the tents1' 1 Numb. Tin. 29; xiv. 25. 3 1 Sam. xv. 6, 9. 3 Judges i. 16. Compare Kinah , Josh. 4 1 Sam. xxx. 14. xv. 22; also, for Arad, see Numb. xxi. 5 Josh. xix. 5; 1 Kings x. 2& 1 ; Josh. xii. 14. Joshua xix. 9. PALESTINE SOIITH OF BETHEL. LYDOaV \ Cmleh) V BECROTH I :th moron o ^ \ w- ?L/SHA'S' )SP*!*0 MICH MASH ^ Z~WARAHTAm .UPMR BETH 'J.EBA GIBEONOJ^\ OB iJERICHOtfSa EKRON DROO^.:’ °A'iAEON UK:;..-. 0 JERUSALEM HQVNrOFOU >BETH4^ %yX rachel&tomb° BETHLEHEMO SOLOMONS ^r€f pools- -°r.;v ( B lAHCflE CABDEq iCALON 'C CltEUTMCBOPOUS; LljRflCE EGIAIM ' .vlll//// ^Srlgi VV'(! SCALE GEOGRAPHICAL MILES SAND GRAVEL VEGETATION GRANITE LIMESTONE SANDSTONE JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 229 of the pastoral tribes who “ had dwelt there of old and roved along across the Arabah till they arrived at the Mount Seir — the range of Petra — and “ smote the rest of the Amalekites, and dwelt there unto this day.”1 In the midst of this wild frontier ruins still appear on the rising grounds as if of ancient cities ; such as may have been Arad, the abode of the southernmost Canaanite king, and Kirjath-sannah, so called, doubtless, from its palm-trees, the lingering traces of the Desert ; though also known by the appellation of Debir, or Kirjath-sephir, the “ city of the Oracle,” or the “ Book.” It was in the capture of this fortress that Othniel performed the feat of arms which won for him the daughter of Caleb.2 But the speech of Achsah to her father, was the best reason for the slight notice of this Desert tract in later times, and is the best introduction to the real territory of Judah, on which we are now to enter — “ Give me a blessing, for thou hast given me a south land ; give me also springs of water.” The wells of Beersheba were enough for the Patriarchs, the Amalekites, and the Kenites, but they were not enough for the daughter of Judah, and the house of the mighty Caleb. II. The “ hill country,” — “ the mountain country,” C0SJytai0nf as it is called — of “ Judah” in earlier, of “ Judaea” in Judah* later times, is the part of Palestine which best exemplifies its characteristic scenery — the rounded hills, the broad val¬ leys, the scanty vegetation, the villages or fortresses — some¬ times standing, more frequently in ruins — on the hill tops ; the wells in every valley, the vestiges of terraces, whether for corn or wine. Here the “Lion of Judah” entrenched The Liori himself, to guard the southern frontier of the Chosen of Judah- Land, with Simeon, Dan, and Benjamin nestled around him. Well might he be so named in this wild country, more than half a wilderness, the lair of the savage beasts,3 of which the 1 1 Chron. iv. 39 — 43. . a Josh. xv. 15 — IV, 49; Judges i. 11—13. 3 The “ lions” of Scripture occur usually in or near those mountains — for example, that of Samson, and that of the Prophet of Bethel, and “the lion and the bear” of David’s shepherd-youth. Compare, too, the frequency of names derived from wild beasts in those parts — “ Sliual” — “ Shaalbim” (foxes and jackals), Jos. xv. 28, xix. 3, 42 ; Jud. i. 35; compare also Jud. xv 4: “ Lebaoth” (lionesses), Jos. xv. 32, xix. 6 ; the 230 SINAI AND PALESTINE. traces gradually disappear as we advance into the interior Fixed there, and never dislodged, except by the ruin of the whole nation, . “ he stooped down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion — who shall rouse him up V' Throughout the troubled period of the Judges, from Othniel to Samson, Judah dwelt undisturbed within those mountain fastnesses. In these gray hills, and in their spacious caverns, David hid himself, when he fled to the mountains like one of their own native partridges, and, with his band of freebooters, maintained himself against the whole force of his enemy. The tribes of the east and of the north were swept away by the Assyrian kings, Galilee and Samaria fell before the Roman conquerors, whilst Judah still remained erect — the last, because the most impregnable, of the tribes of Israel. As in the general, so also in the detailed features of the country, the character of Judah is to be traced. Here, more n rds than elsewhere, are to be seen on the sides of the hills, the vineyards, marked by their watch-towers and walls, seated on their ancient terraces — the earliest and latest symbol of Judah. The elevation of the hills and table-lands of Judah is the true climate of the vine,1 and at Hebron, according to the Jewish tradition, was its primeval seat. He “ bound his foal to the vine, and his ass’ colt unto the choice vine ; he washed his gar¬ ments in wine, and his clothes in the blood of grapes.”2 It was from the Judsean valley of Eshcol — u the torrent of the cluster” — that the spies cut down the gigantic cluster of grapes.3 66 A vineyard on 6 a hill of olives,’ ” with the “ fence,” and “ the stones gathered out,” arid “ the tower in the midst of it,”4 is the natural figure which, both in the prophetical and evangelical records, represents the king¬ dom of Judah. The “ vine” was the emblem of the nation on the coins of the Maccabees, and in the colossal cluster of golden grapes which overhung the porch of the second Ravine of Hyenas (Zeboim), 1 Sara. pp. 125 — 136; Cosmos, i. 125 — 126; Rit* xvii. 18 ; Valley of Stags (Ajalon), Jud. ter, iii. p. 220. i. 35 ; Josh. xix. 42. They re-appear 2 Gen. xlix. 11. (“ the lions’ dens, and the mountains of 3 Numb. xiii. 23 — 24. the leopards”) in Lebanon and Anti- 4 Isa. v. 1; “a very fruitful hill” is ' -ebanon, Song of Solomon iv. 8. “a horn the son of oiL” Matt. xxi. 33 1 Seo Humboldt’s “ Asio Centrale.” iii. Soo Chapter XIII. JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 231 Herodion. Temple ; and the grapes of Judah still mark the tomb¬ stones of the Hebrew race in the oldest of their European cemetries, at Prague. But, further, on these mountain tops were gath- ciuccnsc of ered all the cities and villages of Judah and Ben- Judak jamin ; in this respect contrasted, as we shall see, with the situation of the towns of the more northern tribes. The position of each is so like the other, that it is difficult to distinguish them when seen; useless to characterise them in description. Hence, although when the names are pre¬ served, their identification is certain ; when the name is lost, as in the case of Modin,1 we must be satisfied with the selec¬ tion of any one of the many heights which, according to the description of the monument of the Maccabees, can be seen from the sea.2 The only eminence which stands out from the rest, marked by its peculiar conformation, is the square-shaped mountain east of Bethlehem, known by the name of “ the Frank Mountain,” from the baseless story that it was the last refuge of the Crusaders, or “ the Hill of the Little Paradise” (Gebel-el-Fureidis), from its vicinity to the gardens of the Wady Urtas.3 But of this the only historical recollection is the fact of its character¬ istic selection as the burial-place of Herod the Great. Amidst this host of “ fenced cities of Judah” it is enough to mention one, not only on account of its surpassing interest, but because its very claim to notice is founded on the fact that it was but the ordinary type of a Judoean village, not distinguished by size or situation from any amongst “ the thousands of Judah.”4 All the characteristics of Beth¬ lehem are essentially of this nature. Its position t t/ l?TfTTirT THEM on the narrow ridge of the long grey hill which would leave “ no room” for the crowded travellers to find shelter ; the vineyards, kept up along its slopes with greater energy, because its present inhabitants ar*> 1 1 Macc. xiii. 25 — 30. 2 Such a point may be found on any of the hills westward of the plateau of Jerusalem. Schwarze (96) fixes on one of the name of Midan, near Kustul. 3 See Kitto’s Laud of Promise, p. 28. This name slightly confirms the suppo¬ sition, that for tho same reason it may in earlier times have borne the name of “ Both-hac-Cerem” (the home of the vineyard ), which is once mentioned (Jer. vi. 1) as a well-known beacon sta¬ tion in Judsea. “Set up a sign of fire in Beth-hac-Cerem.” See Chapter I., part il 4 Micali v 2 232 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Christian ; the corn-fields below, the scene of Ruth’s ad¬ venture, and from which it derives its name, 66 the house of bread the well close by the gate, for whose water David longed ; the wild hills eastward, where the flocks of David and of u the shepherds abiding with their flocks by night” may have wandered ; all these features are such as it shares more or less in common with every village of Judah.1 But, as in every country, so in Palestine and Judaea, there is a peculiar interest attaching to the situation of its capital cities. The earliest seat of civilised life, not only of Judah Hebron ' ^ but of Palestine, was Hebron. It was the ancient city of Ephron the Hittite, in whose “ gate” he and the elders received the offer of Abraham,2 when as yet no other fixed habitation of man was known in Central Palestine. It was the first home of Abraham and the Patriarchs ; their one permanent resting-place when they were gra¬ dually exchanging the pastoral for the agricultural life.3 It was the city of Arba — the old Canaanite chief, with his three giant sons4 — under whose walls the trembling spies stole through the land by the adjacent valley of Eshcol. Here Caleb chose his portion, and gave it the new name of “ Hebron,”^ when, at the head of his valiant tribe, he drove out the old inhabitants, and called the whole surrounding territory after his own name ;G and there, under David, and at a later period under Absalom, the tribe of Judah always rallied when it asserted its inde¬ pendent existence against the rest of the Israelite nation.7 It needs but few words to give the secret of this early selection, of this long continuance, of the metropolitan city of Judah. Every traveller from the Desert will have been struck by the sight of that green vale, with its orchards and vineyards, and numberless wells, and in earlier times we must add the grove of terebinths or oaks, which then attracted from far the eye of the wandering tribes. This fertility was in part owing to its elevation 1 See Chapter II., part ii. 5 Judg. i. 10. J Gen. xxiii. 10. 6 1 Sam. xxx 14. “Upon the Sontb 3 Gen. xxxv. 27 ; xxxvii. 14. of Caleb.” 4 Josh. xv. 13 ; xxi. 11 ; Numb. xiii. 7 2 Sam, ii. 11. ; xv. 9 — 10. 22, 33. JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 233 into the cooler and the more watered region, above the dry and withered valleys of the rest of Judrea.1 Com¬ manding this fertile valley, rose Hebron on its crested hill. Beneath was the burial-place of the founders of their race. Caleb must have marked out the spot for his own, when with the spies, he had passed through this very valley. When JDavid returned from the chase of the Amalekite plunderers on the Desert frontier, and doubted “to which of the cities of Judah he should go up” from the wilderness, the natural features of the place, as well as the oracle of God, answered clearly and distinctly, “ Unto Hebron.”2 III. But Hebron was not the permanent capital. The metropolis of Judah — of the Jewish monarchy jEKTISAI*EM- • — of Palestine — (in one sense) of the whole world — is Jerusalem. It will be convenient first to give its general aspect expressed as nearly as possible in words written from the spot. Jerusalem is one of the few places of which the first im- Exterior as- pression is not the best. No doubt the first sight — the pect* first moment when, from the ridge of hills which divide the valley of Rephaim from the valley of Bethlehem one sees the white line crowning the horizon, and knows that it is Jerusalem — is a moment never to be forgotten. But there is nothing m the view itself to ex¬ cite your feelings. Nor is there even when the Mount of Olives heaves in sight, nor when u the horses’ hoofs ring on the stones of vthe streets of Jerusalem.” Nor is there on the surrounding outline of hills on the distant horizon. Nebi-Samuel is indeed a high and distinguished point, and Ramah and Gibeah both stand out, but they and all the rest in some degree partake of that featureless character which belongs to all the hills of Judea, as does Olivet itself. In one respect no one need quarrel with this first aspect of Jerusalem. So fir as localities have any concern with religion, it is well to feel that Christianity, even in its first origin, was nurtured in no romantic scenery ; that the discourses in the walks to and from Bethany, and in earlier times the Psalms and Prophecies of David and Isaiah, were not as in Greece the offspring of oracular cliffs and grottos, but the simple outpouring of souls which thought of nothing but God and man. It is not, however, inconsistent with this view to add, that though not romantic — though at first sight bare and pro- said in the extreme — there does at last grow up about Jerusalem a beauty as poetical as that which hangs over Athens and Rome. 1 Chapter I. part ii. p. 167. 2 2 Sam. ii. 1. 234 SINAI AND PALESTINE. First, it is in the highest degree venerable. Modern houses it is true there are ; the interiors of the streets are modern ; the old city itself (and I felt a constant satisfaction in the thought) lies buried twenty, thirty, forty feet below these wretched shops and receptacles for Anglo -Oriental conveniences. But still, as you look at it from any commanding point, within or without the walls, you are struck by the gray ruinous masses of which it is made up ; it is the ruin, in fact, of the old Jerusalem on which you look, — the stones, the columns, the very soil on which you tread, is the accumulation of nearly three thousand years. And as with the city, so it is with the view of the country round it. There is, as I have said, no beauty of form or outline, but there is nothing to disturb the thought of the hoary age of those ancient hills ; and the interest of the past, even to the hardest mind, will in spite of themselves invest them with a glory of their own . But besides this imaginative interest there are real features which would, even taken singly, be enough to redeem the dullest of pros¬ pects. In the first place there is the view of the Moab mountains ; I always knew that 1 should see them from Olivet, but I was not pre¬ pared for their constant intermingling with the views of Jerusalem itself. From almost every point, there was visible that long purple wall, rising out of its unfathomable depths, to us even more interest¬ ing than to the old Jebusites or Israelites. They knew the tribes who lived there ; they had once dwelt there themselves. But to the inhabitants of modern Jerusalem, of whom comparatively few have ever visited the other side of the Jordan, it is the end of the world, — and to them, to us, these mountains almost have the effect of a dis¬ tant view of the sea ; the hues constantly changing, this or that pre¬ cipitous rock coming out clear in the morning or evening shade — there, the form dimly shadowed out by surrounding valleys of what may possibly be Pisgah — here the point of Kerak, the capital of Moab and fortress of the Crusaders — and then at times all wrapt in deep haze — the mountains overhanging the valley of the shadow of death, and all the more striking from their contrast with the gray or green colours of the hills and streets and walls through which you catch the glimpse of them. Next, there are the ravines of the city. This is its great charm. The Dean of St. Paul’s once observed to me that he thought Luxembourg must be like Jerusalem in situa¬ tion. And so to a certain extent it is. I do not mean that the ra¬ vines of Jerusalem are so deep and abrupt as those of Luxembourg, but there is the same contrast between the baldness of the level approach, the walls of the city appearing on the edge of the table¬ land, and then the two great ravines of Ilinnom and Jehoshaplmt opening between you and the city ; and again, the two lesser ravines, rival claimants to the name of Tyropoeon, intersecting the city itself In this respect I never saw a town so situated, for here it is not JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 235 merely the fortress, but the city, which is thus surrounded and entangled with natural fosses ; and this, when seen from the walls, especially from the walls on the northern side, and when combined with the light and shade of evening, gives the whole place a variety of colour and level fully sufficient to relieve the monotony which else it would share with other eastern cities. And, thirdly, it must be remembered that there is one approach which is really grand, namely, from Jericho and Bethany. It is the approach by which the army of Pompey advanced, — the first Western army that ever confronted it, — -and it is the approach of the Triumphal Entry of the Gospels. Probably the first impression of every one coming from the north, west, and the south, may be summed up in the simple expression used by one of the modern travellers, — ■“ I am strangely affected, but greatly disappointed.” But no human being could be disappointed who first saw Jerusalem from the east.1 The beauty consists in this, that you then burst ot once on the two great ravines which cut the city off from the surrounding table- land, and that then only you have a complete view of the Mosque of Omar. The other buildings of Jerusalem which emerge from the mass of gray ruin and white stones are few, and for the most part unattractive. The white mass of the Armenian convent on the south, and the dome of the Mosque of David — the Castle, with Herod’s tower on the south¬ west corner — -the two domes, black and white, which surmount the Holy Sepulchre and the Basilica of Constantine — the green corn¬ field which covers the ruins of the Palace of the Knights of St. John — the long yellow mass of the Latin convent at the north-west corner, and the gray tower of the Mosque of the Dervishes on the traditional site of the Palace of Herod Antipas, in the north-east corner — these are the only objects which break from various points the sloping or level lines of the city of the Crusaders and Saracens. But none of these is enough to elevate its character. What, however, these fail to effect, is in one instant effected by a glance at the Mosque of Omar. From whatever point that graceful dome with its beautiful precinct emerges to view, it at once dignifies the whole city. And when from Olivet, or from the Governor’s house, or from the north-east wall, you see the platform on which it stands, it is a scene hardly to be surpassed. A dome graceful as that of St. Peter’s, though of course on a far smaller scale, rising from an elaborately finished circular edifice — this edifice raised on a square marble platform rising on the highest ridge of a green slope, which descends from it north, south, and east to the wTalls surrounding the whole enclosure — platform and enclosure diversified by lesser domes and fountains, 1 It is this which causes Lieutenant valley, approached it first, as probably Lynch’s surprise at the magnificence of no other modern traveller has, from his first view. He, coming up from his tbo oast adventurous expedition in the Jordan 236 SINAI AND PALESTINE. by cypresses, and c*lives, and planes, and palms — the whole as secluded and quiet as the interior of some college or cathedral garden — only enlivened by the white figures of veiled women stealing like ghosts up and down the green slope — or by the turbaned heads •bowed low in the various niches for prayer — this is the Mosque of Omar: the Harem-es-Sherif, “the noble sanctuary,” the second most sacred spot in the Mahometan world, — that is the next after Mecca; the second most beautiful mosque, — that is the next after Cordova . I for one felt almost disposed to console myself for the exclusion by the additional interest which the sight derives from the knowledge that no European foot, except by stealth or favour, had ever trodden within these precincts since the Crusaders were driven out, and that their deep seclusion was as real as it appeared. It needed no sight of the daggers of the black Dervishes who stand at the gate, to tell you that the Mosque was undisturbed and inviolably sacred. I. This is, in its main points, the modern aspect of the Holy City. Let us take these features in detail, and draw from them whatever light they throw on its long history. 1. It is one of the peculiarities of Jerusalem, that it be¬ came the capital late in the career of the nation. Rome, its long Athens, Egyptian Thebes ; the other ancient centres obscurity. 0p nati0nal life in Palestine itself, Hebron, Bethel, Shechem — extend back to the earliest periods of their re¬ spective history. But in those times Jerusalem was still an unknown and heathen fortress in the midst of the land. There is something striking in the thought, how many of those earlier events took place around it ; how often Joshua, and Deborah, and Samuel, and Saul, and David must have passed and repassed the hills, and gazed on the towers of the city, unconscious of the fate reserved for her in all subsequent time. “ Thy birth and thy nativity,” such is the language of the bitter retrospect of Ezekiel, “ is of the land of Canaan ; thy father was an Amorite, and thy mother a Hittite ; and as for thy nativity, in the day thou wast born . . . thou wast not salted at all, nor swaddled at all. Hone eye pitied thee, to do any of these unto thee, to have compassion upon thee ; but thou wast cast out in the open field, to the loathing of thy person, in the day that thou wast born.”1 1 Ezek. xvi. 3, 4, 5 JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 237 Yet the same circumstance, which afterwards contributed to the eminence of Jerusalem, in some degree accounts for its long previous obscurity. It was the only exception, so far as we know, to the rule, otherwise universal, that the aboriginal inhabitants of Palestine lingered not in the hills, but in the plains. After every other part of the mount* ains of Ephraim and Judah had been cleared of its Canaan* ite population, Jebus still remained in the hands of the ancient tribe which probably took its name from the dry rock on which their fortress stood. And the causes, which for so many centuries preserved this remnant of the early inhabitants of the country, were in great part the same as those which made it both the first object of David’s conquest when he found himself seated on the throne at Hebron, and the capital of his kingdom for all future generations. The situation of J erusalem is in several respects singular amongst the cities of Palestine. Its elevation1 is remarkable, occasioned, not from its being on the summit of one of the numerous hills of J udsea, like most of the towns and villages, but because it is on the edge of one of the highest table-lands of the country.2 3 * Hebron, indeed, is higher still, by Mountain some hundred feet; and from the south, accordingly, Fastness- the approach to Jerusalem is by a slight descent. But from every other side, the ascent is perpetual ; and, to the tra¬ veller approaching Jerusalem from the west or east, it must always have presented the appearance, beyond any other capital of the then known world — we may add, beyond any important city that has ever existed on the earth — of a mountain city ; breathing, as compared with the sultry plains of the Jordan or of the coast, a mountain air ; enthroned, as compared with Jericho or Damascus, Gaza or Tyre, on a mountain fastness. In this respect, it concentrated in itself the character of the whole country of which it was to be the capital — the “ mountain throne,” the “ mountain sanctuary,” of God. 66 The 6 mount’ of 1 This is given with great liveliness and greater length after the excellent account force by Ilauwulf, 271. of it in Robinson’s Researches, vol. i., pp 3 It is needless to describe this peculiar 280 — 383. aspect of its geographical position at 238 SINAI AND PALESTINE. God is as the ‘ mount’ of Bashan ; an high mount as the mount of Bashan. Why leap ye so, ye high 6 mountains’ ? this is the ‘ mountain’ which God desireth to dwell in.”1 “ Thou hast ascended up on high, thou hast led captivity captive.”1 2 “ His foundation is in the holy mountains.”3 “ They that trust in the Lord shall he as the mount Zion, which may not he removed, but standeth fast for ever.”4 u God is in the midst of her, therefore shall she not be removed.”5 * * 8 9 It was emphatically the lair of the lion of Judah, of “ Ariel,” the Lion of God.6 “ In Judah is God known ; his name is great in Israel. In Salem is his 4 leafy covert,’ and his 6 rocky den’ in Zion.T . . . Thou art more glorious and excellent than the ‘ mountains of the t — j robbers.’ ”3 And this wild and fastness-like character of Jerusalem was concentrated yet again in the fortress, the u stronghold” of Zion. That point, the highest in the city, the towering height9 which most readily catches the eye from every quarter, is emphatically the “ hill-fort,” the “ rocky hold”10 of Jerusalem — the refuge where first the Jebusite, and then the Lien of God, stood at bay against the hunters. Ravines of 2. This brings us to the second feature which tends ^id 5°Hinn- to account for its early selection or future growth as n°m. the capital of Palestine. As the traveller advances towards Jerusalem, from the west and south, over the feature¬ less undulating plain, two deep valleys suddenly disclose themselves before us, one on the south, the larger and deeper on the north, which then sweeping round the eastern side of the city to meet the southern ravine,11 passes on by still 1 Ps. lxviii. 15, 16. 2 Ps. lxviii. 18. 3 Ps. lxxxvii. 1. 4 Ps. exxv. 1. 5 Ps. xlvi. 5. 6 Isa- xxix. 1, 2. 7 Ps. lxxvi. 1, 2. Such seems the full expression of the words “ sucah” and M maonah.” See Appendix. 8 Ps. lxvi. 4. 9 This would be equally the case whether Zion be the south-western hill commonly so called, or the peak now levelled on the north of the Temple Mount, as is supposed, not without considerable grounds, by Mr. Fergusson (Essay, p. 55, ft'.), and Mr. Thrupp (Ancient Jerusalem, p. 17, fl'.) 10 The word “matzad” or “ metzod” is, like the words in the preceding note, taken from the cover into winch wild beasts are hunted , and was used and specially applied to tho “ holds” in the wilderness of Judma, 1 Sam. xxiii. 14, 19; 1 Chr. xii. 8, 16; Jud. vi. 2 ; Ezek. xxxiii. 27 ; Job xxxix. 28. It is the usual word for designating Mount Zion, 2 Sam. v. 7, 9 ; 1 Chr. xi. 5, 7, and (in express conjunction with Ariel). Isa. xxix. 7. 11 Josh. xv. 8. In tho Mohammedan traditions the name of “Gehenna” is ap¬ plied to the Valley of the Kedron. Ibu Batuliah, 124. JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 239 narrower clefts through its long descent to the Dead Sea. The deepest and darkest of the two defiles was, doubtless, for that reason, known as “ The Black Valley” (Kedron) ; the other, wider and greener, was “the ravine”' (Ge), in which probably some ancient hero had encamped, — “the n :>n of Hinnom ;” and from the name thus compounded, “ G e-Ben-Hinnom,” “ Ge-Hinnom,” was formed the word “ Gehenna,” which in later times caused what Milton truly calls “ the pleasant valley of Hinnom,” to become the re¬ presentative of the place of future torment. These deep ravines, which thus separate ‘Jerusalem from the rocky plateau of which it forms a part, are a rare feature in the general scenery of the Holy Land. Something of the same effect is produced by those vast rents which, under the name of “ Tajo,” surround or divide Ronda, Alhama, and Granada, on the table-lands which crown the summits of the Spanish mountains. But in Palestine, Jerusalem stands alone, and from this cause derives, in great measure, her early strength and subsequent greatness. When David appeared under the walls of J ebus, the “ old inhabitants of the land,” the last remnant of their race that clung to their mountain home, exulting in the strength of those ancient “everlasting gates”1 which no conqueror had yet burst open, looked proudly down on the army below, and said, “ Except thou take away the blind and the lame, thou shalt not come in hither; thinking, David cannot come in hither.” The blind and the lame, they thought, were sufficient to maintain what nature had so strongly defended. It was the often repeated story of the capture of fortresses through what seemed their strongest, and therefore became their weakest, point, “ Prceruptum , edque neglectum .” Such was the fate of Sardis, and of Rome, and such was the fate of Jebus. David turned to his host below, and said, “ Whoever smiteth the Jebusites first, ‘and dasheth them on the precipice,’ . . . . and the lame and the blind that are hated of David’s soul, he shall be chief and captain.”2 Joab first climbed that 1 Ps. xxiv. ‘7. tno wliolo tho safest rendering of the 3 2 Sam. v. 8 ; 1 Chr. xi. G. “ Dasheth passage obscurely translated and trans- them against tho precipico,” seems on posod, “ Getteth up to the gutter.” 240 SINAI AND PALESTINE. steep ascent, and won the chieftainship of David’s hosts ; and the “ ancient everlasting gates” “ lifted up their heads,” and “ David dwelt in the stronghold of Zion, and called it the city of David.” Compact- 3. What these ravines were in determining its ness. earliest defences, they have been ever since. It is needless to go through the sieges of later times; hut it is obvious that the deep depressions which thus secured the city must have always been a natural trench, much as the Valley of the Jordan, on a larger scale, was to the whole country. They acted as its natural defence ; they also determined its natural boundaries. The city, wherever else it spread, could never overleap the valley of the Kedron or of Hinnom ; and those two fosses, so to speak, became accordingly, as in the anal¬ ogous case of the ancient towns of Etruria, the Necropolis of Jerusalem. This distinction made it again doubly im¬ possible for the city of the living to protrude itself into the city of the dead ; and, as the southern ravine had al¬ ready given a name to the infernal fires of the other world, so in Mussulman and Mediaeval traditions, the Valley of the Kedron was identified with the Valley of Jehoshaphat,1 or of the “Divine Judgment;” and long re¬ garded by the pilgrims of both religions as the destined scene of the Judgment of the World. The compression between these valleys probably occasioned the words of the Psalmist, “ Jerusalem is built as a city that is at unity in itself.”2 It is an expression not inapplicable even to the modern city, as seen from the east. But it was still more appropriate to the original city, if, as seems probable, the valley of Tyropoeon formed in earlier times a fosse within a fosse, shutting in Zion and Moriah into one compact mass, not more than half a mile in breadth.3 Growth. But this compactness and smallness — though in 1 Joel iii 2. 3 Psalm cxxii. 3. 3 This would be still more the case, if we could suppose that Zion — the original city of David — occupied part of what is called Moriah , the oblong mass of rock which supports the Mosque of Omar, and which must have been shut in by the Tyropoeon on the north, by the ravine of Hinnom on the south, and by the Kedron on the north and east. (See the Essays of Mr. Fergusson And Mr. Tin ipp.) JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 241 itself a fitting characteristic of the capital of that terri¬ tory which, as we have seen, was remarkable for the same reason amongst the nations of the then known world — was not such as to exclude its future growth. Hemmed in as it was on three sides by the ravines, on the western side it was comparatively open. A slight depression, in¬ deed, runs beneath what is now its wall on that side ; still, to speak generally, it is joined by its western and north¬ western sides to the large table-land which rises in the midst of Judaea, extending from the ridge of St. Elias on the south to the ridge of Bireh on the north, from the hills of Gibeon on the west to the Mount of Olives on the east. In this point, again, its situation is peculiar. Almost all the other cities of Palestine were placed, like Hebron, or Samaria, or Jezreei, on the crest of some hill, or like She- chem, within some narrow valley which admitted of little ex¬ pansion. But Jerusalem had always an outlet on the west and north, and though it was not till the latest period of her existence that the walls, under Herod Agrippa, were pushed far beyond their ancient limits in those directions, yet the gardens, and orchards, and suburbs must, even in the reign of Solomon, have stretched themselves over the plain. And this plain was encompassed with a harrier of heights, which shut out the view of Jerusalem till within a very short distance of the city, and must always have acted as a defence to it. 4. It is probable that these must be the heights M tai alluded to in the well-known verse, “ As the moun- round Jeru- tains are round about Jerusalem, so is the Lord round about His people.”1 It is true that this image is not realised, as most persons familiar with our European scenery would wish and expect it to be realised. lerusalem is not literally shut in by mountains, except on the eastern side, where it may be said to be enclosed by the arms of Olivet, with its outlying ridges on the north-east and south¬ east. Any one facing Jerusalem westward, northward, or southward, will always see the city itself on an elevation higher than the hills in its immediate neighbourhood, its towers and walls standing out against the sky, and not 1 Psalm cxxv. 2. 242 SINAI AND PALESTINE. against any high background such as that which encloses the mountain towns and villages of our own Cambrian or Westmoreland valleys. Nor, again, is the plain on which it stands enclosed by a continuous though distant circle of mountains, like that which gives its peculiar charm to Athens and Innspruck. The mountains in the neighbour¬ hood of Jerusalem are of unequal height, and only in two or three instances — Nebi-Samuel, Er-Ram, and Tel-el-Fulil — rising to any considerable elevation. Even Olivet is only a hundred and eighty feet above the top of Mount Zion. Still, they act as a shelter ; they must be surmounted be¬ fore the traveller can see, or the invader attack, the Holy City; and the distant line of Moab would always seem to rise as a wall against invaders from the remote east. It is these mountains, expressly including those beyond the Jor¬ dan, which are mentioned as “ standing round about Jeru¬ salem” in another and more terrible sense, when, on the night of the assault of Jerusalem by the Roman armies, they “ echoed back” the screams of the inhabitants of the captured city, and the victorious shouts of the soldiers of Titus.1 The situation of Jerusalem was thus not unlike, on a small scale, to that of Rome ; saving the great difference that Rome was in a well-watered plain, leading direct to the sea, whereas Jerusalem was on a bare table-land, in the heart of the country. But each was situated on its own cluster of steep hills ; each had room for future expansion in the surrounding level ; each, too, had its nearer and its more remote barriers of protecting hills — Rome its Janiculum hard by, and its Apennine and Alban moun¬ tains in the distance ; Jerusalem, its Olivet hard by, and, on the outposts of its plain, Mizpeh, Gibeon, and Ramah, and the ridge which divides it from Bethlehem. central 5. This last characteristic of Jerusalem brings situation. us one more feature — namely, its central situa¬ tion. First, it was pre-eminently central with regard to the two great tribes of the south — which at the time when the choice was made by David, were the chief tribes of the 1 ’ZvvijxEi ^ v nepaia kcll tu nepi % opr) not in tho mind of Josephus those close (Joseph. BolL Jud. vi. 5, 1). This shows at hand, jhat the “surrounding mountains” were JUDJEA AND JERUSALEM. 243 whole nation, the only two which contained a royal house — > Judah and Benjamin. So long as Judah maintained its ground alone, Hebron was its natural capital ; but from the moment that it became the head of the nation, another home had to be sought nearer its neighbour, at this time its rival tribe. Such a spot exactly was Jebus, or Jerusalem. The ancient city, as belonging to the aboriginal inhabitants, had been excluded equally from the boundaries of either tribe. The limits of Judah reached along the plain up to the edge of the valley of Hinnom, and then abruptly paused. The limits of Ben¬ jamin in like manner crept over Olivet to the same point But the rocky mass on which the Jebusite fortress stood was neutral ground, in the very meeting-point of the two tribes. From the summit of the Mount of Olives — almost from the towers of Zion — could be seen Gibeah, the capital of Benjamin, on its conical hill to the north; and the distant hills, though not the actual city, of Hebron, to the south. Yet again Jerusalem was on the ridge, the broadest and most strongly marked ridge of the backbone of the complicated hills, which extend through the whole country from the Desert to the plain of Esdraelon. Every wan¬ derer, every conqueror, every traveller, who has trod the central route of Palestine from north to south, must have passed through the table-land of Jerusalem. It was the water-shed between the streams, or rather the torrent-beds, which find their way eastward to the Jordan, and those which pass westward to the Mediterranean. Abraham, as he journeyed from Bethel to Hebron; Jacob, as he wandered on his lonely exile from Beersheba to Bethel; the Levite,1 on his way from Bethlehem to Gibeah; Joshua, as he forced his way from Jericho, and met the kings in battle at Gibeon ; the Philistines, as they came up from the maritime plain, and pitched in Michmash,- — no less than Pompey, when, in later times, he came up from the Valley of the Jordan, or the Crusaders, when they came from Tyre, with the express purpose of attacking Jerusa¬ lem, — must all have crossed the territory of Jebus. 1 Judges xix. 11. 244 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Interior of Jerusalem. II. From what may he called the external situa¬ tion of Jerusalem, we pass to its internal relations. And here, from perfect certainty, we encounter a mass of topographical controversy unequalled for its extent, for its confusion, and for its bitterness. If the materials, however slight, on which our judgment was to he formed were all before us, it might be worth while to attempt to unravel the entanglement. But the reverse is the case. The data exist, perhaps in abundance, but they are inaccessible. When Jerusalem can be excavated, we shall be able to argue ; till then, the dispute is for the most part as hope¬ less as was that concerning the Roman Forum, before the discovery of the pedestal of the column of Phocas. But without descending into the controverted details, two or three broad facts emerge, which may be stated without fear of future contradiction. 1. Whatever may be the adjustment of the names of the heights on which Jerusalem stands, the peculiarity imparted to its general aspect and to its his¬ tory by these various heights is incontestable. Even in the earlier times, when the city was still compact and narrow, there are traces of its double form. An upper and a lower city,— possibly (lie dry rock1 of 66 Jebus,” or u Zion,” the “ City of David,” as distinct from the Mountain of the Vision (Moriah), in whose centre arose the perennial spring, the “ City of Solomon,” — are dimly discerned in the first period of Jerusalem.2 But it was in its latest period that this multiplicity of eminences, which it shares, though in a smaller compass, with Rome and Constantinople, came into play. Then, as now, the broken surface of the slopes of Jerusalem arrested the attention both of Tacitus and Josephus — “ the irregular outline,” the “ high hills,” the winding of the ascending and descending walls, were present to them, as they have been to the lively imagina- Hills of the City. 1 See Ewall’s Geschichte, iii. 155. 2 It is possible that this double existence may have given the dual form to the name of “ Jerusalem,” which superseded the old form of Jerusalem. It is possible, too, that the name of Jerusalem , “the vision of peace,” may have been first given from the same vision that originated the name of “Moriah,” 2 Chr. iii. 1. Com¬ pare “in Salem is his ‘covert’ — his ‘den’ in Zion .” (Ps. lxxvi. 1.), the “ Mount of the daughter of Zion, the hill of Jeru-salem,” Isa. x. 32. JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 245 tion of the modern poet and historian to whose lot it has fallen to describe the last days of the Holy City.1 But it was from more than a mere artistic interest that these sev¬ eral points of the broken ground of Jerusalem were so care¬ fully recorded. In the earlier sieges — so far as the history is concerned — the city might have stood on a single emi¬ nence, like Ashdod or Samaria. But in the last siege by Titus, everything turns on the variety and number of posts which the four hills of Jerusalem presented, not merely to the besieged against the besiegers, and to the besiegers against the besieged, but to the besieged against each other. If in its earlier, in its more natural aspect, Jeru¬ salem was the likeness of a city that is at unity with itself, in later times its divergent summits curiously represent to us the fatal type of the house which fell, because it was divided against itself. 2. Whatever differences have arisen about the Th0 Tem_ other hills of J erusalem, there is no question that ple Mount the mount on which the Mosque of Omar stands, overhang¬ ing the Valley of the Kedron, has from the time of Solomon, if not of David, been regarded as the most sacred ground in Jerusalem. And on this hill, whatever may be the con¬ troversies respecting the apportionment of its several parts, or the traces of the various architecture which from the time of Solomon downwards have been reared on its rocky sides and surface, two natural objects remain, each of the highest historical interest. High in the centre of the platform rises the re- ^ TTIio rock markable rock, now covered by the dome of “ the of the “ sak- ' * * rail 11 Sakrah.”2 “ It is irregular in its form, and meas¬ ures about sixty feet in one direction, and fifty feet in the other. It projects about five feet above the marble pave ment, and the pavement of the mosque is twelve feet above the general level of the enclosure, making this rise seventeen feet above the ground .... It appears to be the natural 1 See Milman’s excellent description of Jerusalem, both in the third volume of the History of the Jews (15-17), and still more strikingly in the first volume of the History of Christianity, p. 318. In that description the only words which an eye-witness would erase, are, “ liommed in almost on all sides by still loftier mountains.” 2 I quote from the only authentic ac count, that by Mr. Catherwood, given in Bartlett’s Walks about Jerusalem, pp 156, 163. 246 SINAI AND PALESTINE. surface of Mount Moriah ; in a few places there are marks of chiseling ; but its south-east corner is an excavated chamber, to which there is a descent by a flight of stone steps. This chamber is irregular inform, and its superficial area is about six hundred feet ; the average height seven feet. In the centre of the rocky cave there is a circular slab of marble, which being struck, makes a hollow sounds thereby showing that there is a well, or excavation, be¬ neath.” This mass of rock standing where it does, must always have been an unaccountable disfigurement of the Temple area. The time for arriving at a positive conclusion re¬ specting it is not yet come. But it may be worth while to give the various explanations respecting it, fabulous or historical, during the successive stages of its known his¬ tory.1 (cl) The Christians, before the Mussulman occupation of Syria, regarded it as the rock of the Holy of Holies, and as such — so different was the feeling of the Christian world with regard to the Old Testament between the fifth century and our own — used every effort to defile it. ( b .) Regarded as the site of the Holy of Holies by Caliph Omar, it was then by his successors invested with a sanctity only less than the Kaaba of Mecca ; believed to be the rock of Jacob’s pillow at Bethel ; the stone of prophecy, which would have fled on the extinction of that gift, but which was forcibly detained by the angels in an¬ ticipation of the visit of Mahomet to Jerusalem in his nocturnal flight, when it bowed to receive him, and retained the impression of his feet as he mounted the celestial Borak. Within the cave every prayer is sup¬ posed to be granted, and in the well are believed fo rest the souls of the departed between death and the Resurrection.2 (c.) Recovered by the Crusaders, it was exhibited as the scene of the Apparition of the angel to Zacharias, and of the Circumcision of Christ, as also of many other events 1 It' may possibly be the “ lapis century. But this must be very doubt- pertusus” (perforated stone) used as ful. the Jews’ wailing-place in the fourth a The belief was that the living could JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 247 in the Gospel history of His life. The footmark of Mahomet was then represented as the trace left, when He wrent out of the Temple to escape the fury of the Jews.1 id.) In modern times it has been the centre of the most conflicting theories of sacred topography. Mr. Fergusson2 (chiefly from architectural arguments) has maintained that the dome of the Sakrah is the Church of Constantine, and consequently, that the rock beneath is the rock of the Holy Sepulchre. Mr. Falconer and Mr. Thrupp suppose it to be the rock, or part of the rock, on which stood the tower of Antonia. Professor Willis urges its claim to be the rock of the threshing-floor of Araunah, selected by David, and afterwards continued by Solomon and Zerub- babel as the u unhewn stone” on which to build the Altar ; the cave within being the sink described in the Talmud as that into which the blood and offal of the sacrifices were drained off. Undoubtedly, if the measurements of the area would allow of it, this last hypothesis wTould be the most satisfactory, except so far as it fails to produce adequate examples, of a rock so high and so rugged used for either the purposes of a threshing-floor or an altar.3 Meanwhile the rock remains, whatever be its origin, the most curious monument of old Jerusalem, and not the least so, from the unrivalled variety of associations which it has gathered to itself in the vicissitudes of centuries. All accounts combine in asserting that the water of the two pools of Siloam, as well as that of the tlie Temple J- 7 Vaults. many fountains of the Mosque of Omar, proceeds from a living spring beneath the Temple-vaults. There was hold converse with these souls at the mouth of the well about any disputed matter which lay in the power of the dead to solve. It was closed, because a mother going to speak to her dead son, was so much agitated at the sound of his voice from below, that she threw herself into the well to join him, and disappeared. This was the story related to me at Jerusalem. A less pleasing version is given by Catherwood (Bart¬ lett’s Walks, 154). 1 Ssewulf, p. 40. a For Mr. Fergusson’s argument, see Chap. XIV. * One argument which Professor Willis has omitted in favour of his pc sition may be noticed. In I Chr. xxi- 20, 21, it is said that “ Oman and his four sons hid themselves apparently within the threshing-floor, for it is added that as David came to Oman, “ Oman looked and went out of the threshing-floor.” Possibly it was cus¬ tomary to have a cave under the rock of the threshing-floor to conceal the corn — as in the cave of Gideon at Ophrah, Jud. vi. 11. A cave also exists in con¬ nection with what was undoubtedly the base of the Samaritan altar on Gerizim (Seo Chap. V.) 248 SINAI AND PALESTINE. no period ot its history when such a provisi m would not have been important to the Temple for the ablutions of the Jewish, no less than of the Mussulman, worship ; or to the city, which else was dry even to a proverb. It was the treasure of J erusalem — its supports through its numerous sieges — the “ fons perennis aquae” of Tacitus1 — the source of Milton’s “ Brook t hat flowed Hard by the oracle of G-od.” Bui more than this, it was the image wdiich entered into the very heart of the prophetical idea of Jerusalem. “ There is a river [a perennial river], the streams2 Avhereof shall make glad the city of God, the holy place of the tabernacle of the Most High.” 66 All my fresh springs shall be in thee.”3 “ Draw water out of the wells of salvation.”4 In Ezekiels vision5 the thought is expanded into a vast cataract flowing out through the Temple-rock eastward and westward into the ravines of Hinnom and Kedron, till they swell into a mighty river, fertilising the desert of the Dead Sea. And with still greater distinct¬ ness the thought appears again, and for the last time, in the discourse, when in the courts of the Temple, “ In the last day, in that great day of the feast [of Tabernacles], Jesus stood and cried, saying, If any man thirst, let him come unto me, .... out of his belly shall flow rivers of living water.”0 3. In every approach to the modern Jerusalem, -waiis and the first and most striking feature — in the approach from the south, the only striking feature, — is the long line of walls and towers. Most eastern cities are en¬ tered gradually. Cairo, Damascus, Beyrout, have outstepped the limits of their ancient fortifications, and the lesser towns, such as Hebron and Nablous, have not that protection. But Jerusalem is in the singular position of a city of sufficient importance, if not for its size, at least for its dignity, to have deserved a circuit of walls, whilst it is, at the same time, so exposed to the assaults of the wild villagers and still wilder Bedouins of the neighbourhood, that it has 1 Tac. Hist. v. 12. 4 Isa. xii. 3. 2 Ps. xlvi. 4. The word “Nahar” ex- 6 Ezek. xlvii. 1 — 5 ; see Chapter VIL tludes the Kedron. 6 John vil 37, 38. 8 Ps. lxxxvii. 7, JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 249 not ventured to pass beyond its fortifications. The same terror which has collected the entire population of Pales¬ tine from isolated houses into villages/ has confined the population of its capital within the city walls. With the exception of the almost savage inhabitants of the caves and hovels of Siloam, no ordinary habitation can be fixed outside ; the town is entirely enclosed, the gates locked at night, and the present walls, which date from the time of the great Ottoman Sultan, Selim I., conqueror of Egypt in the year of the European Reformation, thus become an es¬ sential feature in every view of the place from within or from without. This to a certain extent must have been the case always : Jerusalem must at all times have been in a state of insecurity, too great to allow of any neglect of her fortifications. From first to last, History and Poetry is always recurring to the mention of her walls and gates and towers. “ Walk about Zion — go round about her, tell the towers thereof ; mark well her bulwarks.”2 David, Solomon, Hezekiah, are all concerned in the fortifications of the city of the Monarchy. To have raised the walls of the city of the Restoration was the chief glory of Nehemiah. Herod’s Avails and towers, called after the favourites of his court and family, were amongst his most celebrated works. The temple itself Avas a fortress of massive foundations and gigantic gateways on every side ; the Avails great and high, Avith the gates of precious stone, furnished the chief images of the Heavenly Jerusalem both in the Old and New Testament; and the idea of the “chief corner-stone,” and of the “ stones” of the living Temple of God, which pervade the Evangelical and Apostolical imagery, Avere suggested, in the first instance, by the vast masses of stone Avhich, whether of the date of Solomon or Herod, form so imposing a part of the existing Avails of the ancient Temple-area. Rut this Avas not the only distinction Avhich set off the outward aspect of the city against the other toAvns of Palestine. Of these the modern walls give, as has been observed, some ° ' ^ 1 . , ' . Palaces. notion. Not so, however, the modern buildings. 1 Sae Chapter II. pp. 204, 205. 2 Psalm xlviii. 12, 13. 250 SINAI AND PALESTINE. With the one exception of the Mosque of Omar, it is difficult to raise up to the mind’s eye from the ruins of the present Jerusalem the magnificent sight which, in the times both of the Davidic and the Herodian monarchy, must have pre¬ sented itself to any spectator. Other residences of regal luxury arose elsewhere, — as we shall see in Shechem and Samaria, — hut Jerusalem only was a city of palaces. Compared with the other villages and towns of Palestine, contrasted with the mountain-wilderness of its own imme¬ diate neighbourhood, it is always spoken of as a splendid and dazzling spectacle. What was the architecture, what the colour, what the form of these palaces we know not ; even the Temple is only to be restored by imperfect guesses. But it was this general aspect which excited the admiration of Psalmists and prophets — “ Beautiful for situation, the joy of the whole earth is Mount Zion;’* “ on the sides of the north is the city of the Great King “ God is well known in her palaces a consider her palaces.”1 This was the ancient peculiarity of its appearance. The modern peculiarity is still more characteristic. If, Ruins. it/ # ' as we have before observed, Palestine is a land of ruins, still more emphatically may it be said that Jerusalem is a city of ruins. Here and there a regular street, or a well-built European house emerges from the general crash, but the general appearance is that of a city which has been burnt down in some great conflagration ;2 and this impression is increased to the highest degree when, on penetrating below the surface, the very soil on which the city stands is found to be composed of ruins of houses, aqueducts, and pillars, reaching to a depth of thirty or forty feet below the foundations of the present houses. This circum¬ stance is important, not only as imparting to the city its remarkable form and colour, but also as telling the story of its eventful course. The old Jerusalem is buried in the overthrow of her seventeen captures. Even if the city were to be rebuilt once more, the soil on which its new foundations must be laid would bear witness to the 1 Psalm xlviii. 2, 3, 12. they had been burnt down many centuries 2 “The houses of Jerusalem look as if ayo.” Richardson, ii. 2G8. JUD2EA AND JERUSALEM. 251 Earth- quakes. faithfulness of the image of her earlier desolation ; •“ the stones of the sanctuary poured out at the top of every street ;” 1 “ they have made Jerusalem a heap of stones ;”2 “ not one stone shall be left upon another, that shall not be thrown down.”3 The ruinous state of Jerusalem is, doubtless, in chief part owing to the hand of man. But here, as elsewhere in Palestine, we must not overlook the effect of earthquake. Situated on its high mountain- plateau, it is said to be more free from this calamity than the cities in the Jordan valley or on the sea-coast. But the very fact of this comparative exemption must make the occurrence of these visitations more remark¬ able ; and we are told that ‘‘scarcely a year passes without a shock;” that sometimes the city has been wholly destroyed.4 Of such manifestations at Jerusa¬ lem, there had been two so memorable, as to have left enduring traces in the sacred records. One was the tremendous earthquake, already mentioned, in the close of the reign of Uzziah. A long tradition preserved the recollection of the event, and connected it directly with the personal calamity of the unfortunate king. “ It was,” so Josephus5 tells the story, “just as Uzziah was enter¬ ing the Temple, that the building suddenly started asunder ; the light flashed through, and at the same moment the leprosy rushed into the king’s face. The hills around felt the shock, and a memorial of the crash was long preserved in a large fragment of rock, or land¬ slip, which, rolling down from the western hill [probably that now called the Mount of Evil Counsel], blocked up the royal gardens between that hill anfl the Mount of Olives, at the junction of the two valleys, by the spring of Enrogel.6 No traces of this convulsion are now vis- 1 Lam. iv. 1. 2 Ps. lxxix. 1. 3 Matt. xxiv. 2. 4 Tobler’s Denkblatter aus Jerusalem, p. 34. I was told that on one of these occasions as a family were seated at their mid-day meal, the dome-shaped roof sud¬ denly opened — showed the blue sky above, and again closed. 6 Joseph. Ant. IX. x. 4. 6 Josephus says ’Epwyrj. It can hardly be doubted that the above state¬ ment is the true explanation. See Bonar, Land of Promise, ICO. SINAI AND PALESTINE. 0^0 A*J O s-J ible, and by a singular omission, characteristic of the soberness of spirit elsewhere observable in the sacred writers, it is not noticed in the historical books of the Old Testament. But the Prophetical visions of that period are full of the imagery of a visitation which brought before them in so powerful a manner the pres¬ ence of God. To Amos, it seemed as though the Lion of God were roaring from the caverns of the lair of Zion.1 To Zechariah,2 the rending of the hills, as de¬ scribed by Josephus, was an image of the yet more terrible rending of the Mount of Olives, which should “ cleave in the midst thereof towards the east and towards the west — a very great ‘ ravine 7 ; and half of the mountain shall move towards the north, and half of it towards the south ; and ye shall flee to the ‘ ravine 7 of the mountains, for ye shall flee like as ye fled from before the earthquake, in the days of Uzziah King of Judah.77 And, if this ancient earthquake was made so powerful a means of reviving the religious feelings of the nation, there is a still grander significance in the like accompaniment of the greatest event which Jeru¬ salem ever witnessed. Then, also, there was “ darkness over all the land 77 at noon day, even as in the time of Amos, “ the day of the Lord was darkness and not light,3 very dark and no brightness in it,77 “ the veil of the Temple,77 even as on the former occasion the Temple itself, “ was rent in twain from the top to the bottom,77 “ the earth did quake, and the rocks rent,77 even as those of old in the ravine of Hinnom ; at the same moment, as it would seem, “ the graves were opened,77- — the long tiers of sepulclfres in the valley of the Kedron — “ and they that saw the earthquake feared greatly.7’4 Such concomitants are indeed eclipsed by the moral greatness of the events which they encompass. But the fact that 1 Amos i. 2 ; ii. 8. ix. — xiv. is the work of an earlier pi ophet 2 Zecli. xiv. 4, 5. This passage is one of that naihe. ot the many indications that Zechariah 3 Amos v. 20. 4 Matt, xxvii. 51 — 54. JUD2EA AND JERUSALEM. 253 they are known to have occurred on the same ground gives additional force and expression both to the accuracy and to the awfulness of the narrative. III. It has been already observed that “the hills The mowi which stand round about Jerusalem” are for the most 0F °LlYEB- part too remote to enter into any consideration of the situa¬ tion or internal relations of the city itself. There are none on the south nearer than the ridge of St. Elias, none on the west nearer than Nebi-Samuel, none on the north nearer than Gibeah or Bamah. But on the east the city is imme¬ diately enclosed by a long ridge, itself with four distinct summits, one outlier starting off to the north, and another to the south. This ridge is that known both in the Old and the New Testament as the Mount of Olives or of the Olive-garden.1 Its four summits are now distinguished by traditional names : — 1. The “ Galilee,” from the supposition that there the Angels stood and said, “Ye men of Galilee.” 2. The “Ascension,” covered by the village and mosque and church of the Gebel-et-Tur (the Arabic name for Olivet, as for all elevated summits), on the supposed scene of that event. 3. The “ Prophets,” from the curious catacomb called the “ Prophets’ Tombs” on its side. 4. “ The Mount of Offence,” so called from Solomon’s idol-worship. The northern outlier has been in modern times usually called “ Scopus the southern, the “ Ilill of Evil Counsel,” marked from far by the single wind- driven tree called the “ Tree of Judas.” From every roof of the city this long ridge forms a familiar feature — so near, so immediately overhanging the town, that it almost seems to be within it. Even in the more distant view from the summit of Nebi-Sainuel the two are so closely intermingled, that it is difficult at first sight to part the outline of the village on the top of Olivet from the outline of the town and walls of Jerusalem itself. The olives and oliveyards, from which it derived its name, must in earlier times have clothed it far more com¬ pletely than at present, where it is only in the deeper and 1 Acts i. 12, zov kXctiGovoS, translated “ Olivetum” in the Vulgate, and hence “ Olivet.” 254 SINAI AND PALESTINE. more secluded slope leading up to the northernmost sum¬ mit that these venerable trees spread into anything like a forest. And in those times, as we see from the name of Bethany (House of Hates), and from the allusions after the Captivity and in the Gospel History, myrtle- groves, pines, and palm-trees1 — all of which have now disappeared — must have made it a constant resort for plea¬ sure and seclusion. Two gigantic cedars, probably amongst the very few in Palestine, stood near its summit, under which were four shops where pigeons were sold for purifica¬ tion.2 The olive and fig now alone remain ; the olive, still in more or less abundance, the fig3 here and there on the road-side ; hut both enough to justify the Mussulman’s belief, that in the oath in the Koran, “ By the olive and the fig,” the Almighty swears by His favourite city of Jerusalem, with this adjacent mountain. So close a proximity at once makes us expect to find the history of the Mount of Olives inseparably united with the history of the Holy City. To a certain extent this was the case. The name by which it is sometimes called “the mountain before (i. e. east of) the city;” or “the mount¬ ain” simply, indicates its near position. It was their open ground — for pleasure, for worship, for any purpose that it might serve ; the “ Park” — the “ Ceramicus” — the “ Cam¬ pus Martius” of Jerusalem. Its green slopes, as seen in the early spring, stand out in refreshing contrast to the dreary and withered ruins of the city at its foot. It was also, from its situation, the bulwark against any enemy approaching connection from the east ; the thoroughfare of any going or dent the ii\T: coming in the direction of the great Jordan val- tory- ley. In accordance with this, are the few notices we find of it in the older history. The sacrifice of the “ red heifer,” the only sacrifice which was to be performed outside4 the camp in the wilderness, being by analogy excluded from the Temple-courts, was celebrated 1 See Chapter II. These palms were 3 It appears probable that Bethphage of a peculiar kind, called “ Zini,” “ Caph- is so called from “ phage ” “ green figs.” natha.” (Sukkah, iii. 1 ; and in Schwarze, Lightfoot, ii. 37. pp. 257, 264.) 1 Numb. xix. 2, 3. 2 Lightfoot, ii. 39. JUD2EA AND JERUSALEM. 255 as near as possible to them, — and therefore on the slope of Olivet.1 David, before the Temple was built, — and whilst “ high places” were still the recognised scenes of religious services, — was wont to 66 worship God at the top of the Mount.”2 Solomon, when, in his later years, he tolerated or adopted the idolatrous rites of his foreign wives, made “ high places” of the three summits “ on the right hand,3 [that is, on the south side] of the Mount of Corruption.”4 With the exception of these general allusions, there is but one event in the Old Testament which lends any interest to its heights. It was by the ascent of Mount Olivet that David went up, on his flight from Jerusalem to Mahanaim, at the news of Absalom’s revolt.5 * It was Flight of at the top of the Mount that he met ITushai, and David‘ had his last view of the rebellious city.0 It was a little way past the top that he encountered Ziba and the asses, laden with provisions. It was as he descended the rough road on the other side, that “ Shimei went along on the side7 of c the mountain’ over against him, and threw stones at him, and cast dust.” This mournful procession — affecting as it is, and linked with every stage of the ascent and descent, — stands alone in the earlier history of the Mount of Olives. Its lasting glory belongs not to the Old Dispensation, but to the connection New. Its very bareness of interest in earlier times 3^ As¬ sets forth the abundance of those associations which tory- it derives from the closing scenes of the Sacred History. Nothing, perhaps, brings before us more strikingly the contrast of Jewish and Christian feeling, the abrupt and inharmonious termination of the Jewish dispensation, — if it excludes the culminating point of the Gospel History, — ■ than to contrast the blank which Olivet presents to the 1 Mishna, Para, iii. 6. 2 2 Sam. xv. 32. 3 This expression seems to show that the ‘ Mount of Offence’ was not the summit which is now so called on the south, but that which is called “ Gali¬ lee,” on the north — perhaps that which in earlier times had been known as Nob, the temporary abode of the Tabernacle. 4 1 Kings xi. 7 ; 2 Kings xxiii. 13. The name of Mashchith (“corruption”), which occurs in this last passage, is the only one by which Olivet is called in the Mishna. (Para, pp. 276, 277, 279.) It is also so called by Zuallart in the fif¬ teenth century, i. p. 38. 6 2 Sam. xv, 30. 0 2 Sam. xv. 32. 7 2 Sam. xvi. 13. The word is pro¬ perly ‘ rib.’ 256 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Jewish pilgrims of the middle ages, only dignified by the sacrifice of 66 the red heifer and the vision too great for words, which it offers to the Christian traveller of all times, as the most detailed and the most authentic abiding-place of Jesus Christ. By one of those strange coincidences, whether accidental or borrowed, which occasionally appeal in the Rabbinical writings, — it is said in the Mishna, that the presence of Shechinah, or Presence of God, after having finally Christ. retired from Jerusalem, “ dwelt” three years and a half on the Mount of Olives, to see whether the Jewish people would or would not repent, calling, “ Return to me, 0 my sons, and I will return to you “ Seek ye the Lord while He may be found, call upon Him while He is near and then, when all was in vain, returned to its own place.1 Whether or not this story has a direct allusion to the ministrations of Christ, it is a true expression of His rela¬ tion, respectively, to Jerusalem and to Olivet. It is useless to seek for traces of His presence in the streets of the since ten times captured city.2 It is impossible not to find them in the free space of the Mount of Olives. Let us briefly go through the points which occur in the Sacred History, of the last days of Christ, during which alone He appears for any continuous period in Jerusalem and its neighbourhood. From Bethany we must begin. A wild mountain-hamlet screened by an intervening ridge from the viewT of the top of Olivet, perched on its broken plateau of rock, the last collection of human habitations before the desert-hills which reach to Jericho — this is the modern village of Ei-Lazarieh, which derives its name from its clustering round the traditional site of the one Bethany. house and grave which give it an undying interest.3 High in the distance are the Persean mountains ; the foreground is the deep descent to the Jordan valley. On the further side of that dark abyss Martha and Mary knew that Christ was abiding when they sent their messenger ; up 1 Roland’s Palestine, p. 331; Lightfoot, ii. p. 40. 2 For the special traditional localities of Jerusalem, see Chap. XIV. 3 Schwarze (263) endeavours to iden¬ tify El-Azarieh with Azal (Zech. xiv. 5), and to find Bethany at a spot called by the Arabs Beth-hana, near Siloam, oc the western side of Olivet. His motive, though entirely suppressed, is evident But his argument has next to n othing >r which to rest. JUDiEA AND JERUSALEM. 257 that long ascent they had often watched His approach — up that long ascent He came when, outside the village, Martha and Mary met Him, and the Jews stood round weeping. Up that same ascent He came, also, at the beginning of the week of His Passion. One night He halted in the village, as of old ; the village and the Desert were then all alive, — as they still are once every year at the Greek Easter, — with the crowd of Paschal pilgrims moving to and fro between Bethany and Jerusalem. In the morning, He set forth on His journey. Three pathways lead, and probably Triumphal always led, from Bethany to Jerusalem / one, a ghSst to steep footpath over the summit of Mount Olivet ; JeruBalem- another, by a long circuit over its northern shoulder, down the valley which parts it from Scopus ; the third, the natu¬ ral continuation of the road by which mounted travellers always approach the city from Jericho, over the southern shoulder, between the summit which contains the Tombs of the Prophets and that called the “ Mount of Offence.” There can be no doubt that this last is the road of the Entry of Christ, not only because, as just stated, it is arid must always have been the usual approach for horsemen and for large caravans, such as then were concerned, but also because this is the only one of the three approaches which meets the requirements of the narrative which follows. Two vast streams of people met on that day. The one poured out1 2 from the city, and as they came through the gardens3 * * * * 8 whose clusters of palm rose on the south¬ eastern corner of Olivet, they cut down the long branches, 1 Most travellers, I believe, go to Bethany by the third, and return by the second, and thus miss the precise views so important in fixing the localities of these events. I went by the first and returned by the third ; and the result will appear as we proceed. See the Map on p. 226. 2 John xii. 12, (ox^og d eXdibv dg tt/v iopTT/v) “The multitude which came to the feast took the branches of the palm- trees. ("E 'Aaf3ov r« (data rd )v (powiKov). . . . . The multitude also met him ( ical v^r/vTrjaev avrcp). 8 Mark xi. 8, “ having cut the branches pop dv reg) from the gardens” (e/c ruv uyptiv). So read the Vatican and Cam¬ bridge MSS., and the Syriac and Coptic versions, for etc t<2v devdpiov. ’ Aypdg is properly “ a cultivated field” or “ pro¬ perty,” such as was found in the neigh¬ bourhood of towns. Compare Mark v. 14, “the city and tho fields;” Matt. vi. 18, “ the lilies of the field.” I have used tiro word gardens as the nearest approach which our language all'ords. Eastern gardens , it must bo remembered, are not flower-gardens, nor private gar¬ dens, but the orchards, vineyards, and fig- enclosures round the town. 258 SINAI AND PALESTINE. as was their wont at the Feast of Tabernacles, and moved upwards towards Bethany, with loud shouts of welcome. From Bethany streamed forth the crowds who had assembled there on the previous night, and who came testifying1 to the great event at the sepulchre of Lazarus. The road soon loses sight of Bethany. It is now a rough, but still broad and well-defined mountain track, winding over rock and loose stones ; a steep declivity below on the left ; the sloping shoulder of Olivet above it on the right ; fig-trees below and above, here and there growing out of the rocky soil. Along the road the multitudes threw down the branches which they cut as they went along, or spread out a rude matting formed of the palm-branches they had already cut as they came out. The larger portion — those, perhaps, who escorted Him from Bethany ■ — unwrapped their loose cloaks from their shoulders, and stretched them along the rough path, to form a mo¬ mentary carpet as He approached.2 * * The two streams met midway. Half of the vast mass, turning round, preceded, the other half followed.'5 Gradually the long procession swept up and over the ridge, where first begins “ the descent of the Mount of Olives” towards Jerusalem. At this point the first view is caught of the south-eastern corner of the city. The Temple and the more northern portions are hid by the slope of Olivet on the right ; what is seen is only Mount Zion, now for the most part a rough field, crowned with the Mosque of David and the angle of the western walls, but then covered with houses to its 1 “ The ‘ multitude’ (o d^/lor) that was with him when he called Lazarus from the grave .... ‘was bearing re¬ cord’ ” ( e/uaprvpei ), John xii. 17. 2 “ ‘ The greater part of the multitude’ (d nXelarog bx^°t') ‘strewed their own cloaks’ ( Zarpoaav bavrcov tu. l/iaTia) in the ‘ road but others ‘ were cutting down’ branches from the trees, and ‘ were strewing them’ in the ‘ road’ (Zkotttov . . . t (jTpuvvvov) Matt. xxi. 8. Ob¬ serve the difference of the tenses . . . rd Ifidria, the ‘abba’ or ‘hyke,’ the loose blanket or cloak worn over the tunic or shirt (xtrdv). A striking instance of the practico is mentioned by liobin- aon, ii. 162, when the inhabitants of Bethlehem threw their garments unde* the feet of the horses of the English Consul of Damascus, whose aid they were imploring. The branches {nAudm) cut from the trees as they went (Matt xxi. 8) are different from the mattings (oToifSadec), Mark xi. 8, which they had twisted out of the palm-branches as they came. 'Lriftag is usually a mat¬ tress ; in Plato’s Rep. ii. 1372, it is a mat made of ivy or myrtle. Here, in all pro¬ bability, it was hastily woven of palm- branches. 3 Mark xi. 9. “ Those that were going before, and those that were following, wera shouting,” ol npodyuvre^ nai oi ukoao Oovvtsc: Znpa&v. JUDJEA AND JERUSALEM. 259 base, surmounted by the Castle of Herod, on the supposed site of the palace of David, from which that portion of Jerusalem, emphatically the “ City of David,” derived its name. It was at this precise point, “ as He drew near, at the descent of the Mount of Olives,”1 — (may it not have been from the sight thus opening upon them?) — that the shout of triumph burst forth from the multitude, “ Hosanna to the Son of David ! Blessed is He that cometh in the name of the Lord. Blessed is the kingdom that cometh of our father David . Hosanna . . . peace . . . glory in the highest.”2 There was a pause as the shout rang through the long defile ; and, as the Pharisees who stood by in the crowd3 complained, He pointed to the stones which, strewn beneath their feet, would immediately “ cry out” if “these were to hold their peace.” Again the procession advanced. The road descends a slight declivity, and the glimpse of the city is again with¬ drawn behind the intervening ridge of Olivet. A few moments, and the path mounts again, it climbs a rugged ascent, it reaches a ledge of smooth rock, and in an instant the whole city bursts into view. As now the dome of the Mosque El-Aksa rises like a ghost from the earth before the traveller stands on the ledge, so then must have risen the Temple tower; as now the vast enclosure of the Mus¬ sulman sanctuary, so then must have spread the Temple courts ; as now the gray town on its broken hills, so then the magnificent city, with its background — long since vanished away — of gardens and suburbs on the western plateau behind. Immediately below was the Valley of the Kedron, here seen in its greatest depth as it joins the 1 Luke xix. 37, “as He drew near, even now (r/v ehaLtiv), i. e., at the point where the road over the Mount begins to descend. This exactly applies to such a shoulder of the hill as I have described, and is entirely inapplicable to the first view, the first “ nearing” of tho city, on crossing the direct summit. The expression would then have been “at tho top of the mount.” —Tho allusion to tho “City of David” would be appropriate, even if, as has been recently conjectured (Tlirupp’s Ancient Jerusalem, pp. 17 — 20), the name of Zion had at that time received an appli¬ cation different from its earlier meaning. 2 I have ventured to concentrate tho expressions of Matt. xxi. 9, Mark xi. 9, John xii. 13, on the one precise point described by Luke xix. 37, “The whole multitude began ... to praise God with a loud voice.” 3 Luke xix. 39. “Some of the Pha risoes ‘ from tho crowd.’ ” 260 SINAI AND PALESTINE. Valley of Hinnom, and thus giving full elfect to the great peculiarity of Jerusalem, seen only on its eastern side — its situation as of a city rising out of a deep abyss. It is hardly possible to doubt that this rise and turn of the road, — this rocky ledge, — was the exact point where the mul¬ titude paused again, and “He, when He beheld the city, wept over it.” Nowhere else on the Mount of Olives is there a view like this. By the two other approaches, above mentioned, over the summit, and over the northern shoulder, of the hill, the city reveals itself gradually ; there is no partial glimpse like that which has been just described as agreeing so well with the first outbreak of popular acclamation, still less is there any point where, as here, the city and Temple would suddenly burst into view, producing the sudden and affecting impression described in the Gospel narrative. And this precise coincidence is the more remarkable because the traditional route of the Triumphal Entry is over the summit of Olivet ; and the traditional spot of the lamentation is at a place half-way down the mountain, to which the description is wholly inapplicable, whilst no tradition attaches to this, the only road by which a large procession could have come ; and this, almost the only spot of the Mount of Olives which the Gospel narrative fixes with exact certainty, is almost the only unmarked spot, — undefiled or unhallowed by mosque or church, chapel or tower — left to speak for itself, that here the Lord’s feet stood, and here His eyes beheld what is still the most impressive view which the neighbourhood of Jerusalem furnishes, — and the tears rushed forth at the sight. After this scene — which, with the one exception of the conversation at the Well of Jacob, stands alone in the Gospel history for the vividness and precision of its localisation — it is hardly worth while to dwell on the spots elsewhere pointed out by tradition or probability on the rest of the Mountain. They belong, for the most part, to the “ Holy Places” of later pilgrimage, not to the authentic illustrations of the Sacred History. It is enough to know that to the gardens and olive-yards which then, as now, — but probably with greater richness of foliage, and greater JUD/EA AND JERUSALEM. 261 security of walls and watch-towers, — covered the slopes of the hill, lie resorted, as his countrymen must always have resorted, for retirement and refreshment from the crowded streets of the city. On one of the rocky banks of the mountain, immediately “ over against the Temple,” The Last He sate and saw the sun go down over the city,1 Pr°phc