But I fear that all has been too late, and that over my good host in Bsherreh the storm of war has already burst, and they will not be more merciful to them and their children, than they were to their less powerful neighbours.

I rejoiced much on that evening to be able to render a service to the young Sheikh, whose quiet dignity had so much prepossessed me, in dressing and binding up a wound, better than was possible with the means they had, and I supplied him with linen and lint. He told me that we could not go the next day, as he must prepare a feast for us, roast a sheep, and show us that he was our friend; I however refused the kindly-meant invitation.

The next morning, we took a servant of the Sheikh with us to the next village, Ehden, which we found in great commotion, but not inimically disposed toward us. Sentinels had been posted at different places, and the gay population, in their dazzling red and yellow costume, who were stationed on the hills around the village, appeared from a distance like a flowery meadow among the green trees; they surrounded us, asked us questions, and appeared to have different opinions about us. A young Amazon ran from some distance to me, raised her finger in a threatening manner, and reproached us that we Franks did not openly and efficiently assist them.

We here took leave of our companion from Bsherreh; instead of him, a man upon a noble spirited horse attached himself to us, unasked; he saluted us politely, and at a certain distance kept us in sight. In about two hours, on an even slope of the hill, we perceived a troop of armed people in a field, who had planted the blood-red flag, as a signal to proclaim revolt and war far and wide over the plain. The patrol came up to us, and positively refused to let us proceed. Not till after a long negotiation, through a golden bribe, and by the mediation of our companion, who proved to be the Sheikh of a neighbouring village, did we obtain a free passage; but the whole troop accompanied us to the foot of the mountain. When we passed the next village, Zehêra, our companion the Sheikh was obliged to use serious threats in order to pass us safely over the frontier of the armed district; he then accompanied us along another valley, to a turn in the rock, saluted us shortly, and rode quickly back into the mountains. We had now only a few hours’ journey to Tripolis, where we arrived soon after sunset, and passed the grave-looking Turkish guards, who might have been somewhat roused from their stupid carelessness by the prospect of a desperate battle with the brave mountaineers.

We remained in Tripolis, now called Tarablûs, in a Latin convent, now only inhabited and protected by two monks. They told us that a short time before, the Christians of Libanon came to them, to desire their spiritual intercession, whereupon they did not hesitate to exhibit the holy sacrament for three days, on their account. Unfortunately the Maronites have less scarcity of these spiritual prayers and good wishes than of the more material provisions of bread and gunpowder, of which the Turks cut off their supplies.

The next day we visited the Prussian-American Consul, who lives in a pleasant house, of the oriental style, and then went to the bazaar. Passing over a beautiful old bridge in the middle of the town, we met a division of Turkish cavalry on their way to Libanon, in their gay, tawdry, dirty costumes, with their lances, ten feet long, ornamented with black ostrich feathers, and the little war-drums in full work going before. About noon we left this place just at the same time that the new Turkish general from Berut was passing the same gate, out of which we rode. On our road we met the division of troops which had been ordered from Zachleh here. We now travelled along the sea-shore, and almost the whole day we heard the thunder of the cannon in the mountains.

We passed the night in a Khân on this side the mountain Râs e’ Shekâb, named by the ancients Θεοῦ πρόσωπον, doubtless because to those who come from the north, the Black Mountain, which here projects into the sea, takes quite the form of a bust. The following day we came to the ancient Byblus (Gebêl), and then crossed the river Adonis, which still at times, after violent rains, weeping over the wounded darling of Aphrodite, becomes blood-red. Beyond Gûneh, almost at the sea, partly indeed in it, we reached Nahr el Kelb, the ancient Lycus, on whose southern side upon the rock which projects into the sea, are sculptured the famous bas-reliefs of Ramses-Sesostris, and of a later Assyrian king.[156] Notwithstanding our sharp riding we did not arrive at the table-rock till a little after sunset, and we passed the night at a Khân at the further side.

The next morning I examined the sculpture more closely, (by which passes the ancient, artificially constructed road, now broken up,) and I rejoiced over some essential discoveries, as I found it would be possible to decypher a date in the hieroglyphical inscriptions. Among the three Egyptian representations, which all bear the cartouches of Ramses II., the middle one is dedicated to the highest god of the Egyptians, to Ra, (Helios), the southernmost to the Theban or Upper-Egyptian Ammon, and the northern one to the Memphite, or Lower-Egyptian Phtha. To the same gods, this Ramses had also dedicated the three celebrated rock-temples in Nubia, Gerf Hussên, Sebûa and Derr; no doubt because he believed them to be the three principal representers of Egypt. On the middle stele the inscription begins under the representation with the date of the 2nd Choiak, of the fourth year of the reign of King Ramses. The Ammon’s stele, on the contrary, was of the second, or (if the two marks were bound together at the top) of the tenth year’s date; under any circumstances, of some other date than the middle stele,—whence it might be concluded that all three representations referred to different campaigns.

We also did not leave unvisited the tomb of St. George, and the church dedicated to him, near Nahr el Kelb; and as we were going to Berut in the evening, we turned our steps towards the well where the dragon which he killed used to drink. Thus on the 26th of November we concluded our excursion to, and over Libanon, this justly celebrated mountain, on account of its rich mass of historical reminiscences and rare natural beauties, of which the poet says, that “it bears winter on its head, spring on its shoulders, autumn in its lap, but that summer slumbers at its feet by the Mediterranean.”

A P P E N D I X.

(Letter XXXIII., p. 350.)

Since Procopius, in the sixth century, tradition had evermore exclusively decided the Gebel Mûsa to be the Mount of the Law, without doubt on account of the church founded at its foot by Justinian. I am unacquainted with any late travellers or scholars who have doubted the truth of this. Burckhardt, also, does not do this, although he conjectured, from the numerous inscriptions at Serbâl, that that mountain had once been erroneously taken for Sinai by the pilgrims. The words of this illustrious traveller (Trav. in Syria, p. 609) are as follows:—“It will be recollected that no inscriptions are found either on the mountain of Moses or on Mount St. Catherine; and that those which are found in the Ledja valley, at the foot of Djebel Catherine, are not to be traced above the rock, from which the water is said to have issued, and appear only to be the work of pilgrims who visited that rock. From these circumstances, I am persuaded that Mount Serbal was at one period the chief place of pilgrimage in the peninsula; and that it was then considered the mountain where Moses received the Tables of the Law; though I am equally convinced, from a perusal of the Scriptures, that the Israelites encamped in the Upper Sinai, and that either Djebel Mousa or Mount St. Catherine is the real Horeb. It is not at all impossible that the proximity of Serbal to Egypt may at one period have caused that mountain to be the Horeb of the pilgrims, and that the establishment of the convent in its present situation, which was probably chosen from motives of security, may have led to the transferring of that honour to Djebel Mousa. At present neither the monks of Mount Sinai nor those of Cairo consider Mount Serbal as the scene of any of the events of sacred history; nor have the Bedouins any tradition among them respecting it, but it is possible, that if the Byzantine writers were thoroughly examined, some mention might be found of this mountain, which I believe was never before visited by any European traveller.”

At a later period, the excellent travels of E. Robinson form a decided epoch in our acquaintance with the peninsula, as well as with Palestine. With reference to the position of Sinai, he mentions, for the first time, the favourable vicinity of the great plain of Râha to the north of Gebel Mûsa, on which the camp of the people of Israel would have had plenty of room (Palestine, vol. i. pp. 144, sqq.). In defining the position of the actual Mount of the Law, he departs from the previous tradition, and endeavours to prove that Moses had not ascended the Gebel Mûsa, but the mountain ridge rising over the plain from the south, which is now called Horeb by the monks, and the highest peak of which is named Sefsâf (vol. i. p. 176). Unfortunately, he has not visited Wadi Firân and the adjoining Serbâl. In a later essay (Bibl. Sacra, vol. iv. No. XXII. May, 1849, pp. 381, sqq.) the learned author returns to the question in respect of my hypothesis, with which he had become acquainted, and opposes to it his already published arguments for Gebel Sefsâf. He comprehends this under three points, which he particularizes from the Mosaic history, and which must therefore also be mentioned here:—“1. A mountain-summit, overlooking the place where the people stood. 2. Space sufficient, adjacent to the mountain, for so large a multitude to stand and behold the phenomena on the summit. 3. The relation between this space where the people stood and the base of the mountain must be such, that they could approach and stand at the nether part of the mount; that they could also touch it, and that further bounds could appropriately be set around the mount, lest they should go up into it, or touch the border of it.” The first of these three points would militate rather against Gebel Mûsa than Serbâl. Robinson says that the latter is excluded by the second and third points. As to the second, I will only call to mind that the encampment of the children of Israel is not otherwise described than at all their earlier stations. If, therefore, the idea of a camp was to be carried out so exclusively as that writers should be solicitous about space for the occupation of so large a people, it would be necessary to find a plain of Râha for all former stations, particularly at Raphidîm (which, according to almost general belief was situated at the foot of Serbâl). As there was a somewhat lengthy stay at that place, Moses was visited by Jethro, and by his advice divided the whole people into divisions of ten men each, and organized them methodically; from which we must conclude that there was a certain local position for all. Whoever thinks of a mass of two millions,—therefore about the number of the inhabitants of London or the whole of modern Egypt—encamped in tents (of which they would have required one for each ten persons, therefore 200,000), as in a well-ordered military camp, to him even the plain of Râha would appear much too small; but whoever allows that but a proportionately small number could group themselves round the principal quarter of Moses, and that all the rest would seek the shady places and caves of the rocks, he will be able to understand the camp of Wadi Firân as easily as at any other place. Wadi Firân also offers—even if we only think of its most fruitful portion, which must have been the most inviting for repose—down as far as El Hessue, in connection with the broad Wadi Aleyât, just as much extent, and, at any rate, a far more inhabitable space for a connected camp than the plain of Râha. Indeed, if minute particulars allow of any deductions, such position of the camp would make it more understandable, why the people were led out of the camp toward God to the foot of the mountain in Wadi Aleyât. The command not to ascend the mountain, which is given more expressly in the words that no one was to touch the ends of the mount, suits any mountain that rises before the eye, and is closed in by bushes. Just behind the bushes is the end of the mountain. Robinson refers to my own map of Serbâl as to this last point, and also the description of the Wadi Aleyât by Bartlett (Forty Days in the Desert, pp. 54-59). But it would be difficult to prove, from my sketch-map, that the people could not stretch out at the foot of the mountain; and Bartlett seems also to be of my opinion. As this traveller, so well known by his excellently-illustrated, and as sensible as interesting, descriptions of countries, is just one of those few who have seen those localities with reference to the question agitated by me, without previously formed opinions, the citation of the place referred to by Robinson would be more fitting here, and the rather as I cannot bring forward the principal points of the argument in a better manner. I may remark that italicised passages are mine, the wide words were originally emphaticised by the author:—

He says (p. 55): “If we endeavour to reconcile ourselves to the received but questionable system, which seeks to accommodate the miraculous with the natural, it is impossible, I think, not to close with the reasoning advanced in favour of the Serbal. There can be no doubt that Moses was personally well acquainted with the peninsula, and had even probably dwelt in the vicinity of Wadi Feiran during his banishment from Egypt, but even common report as to the present day, would point to this favoured locality as the only fit spot in the whole range of the Desert for the supply, either with water or such provisions as the country afforded, of the Israelitish host: on this ground, alone, then, he would be led irresistibly to fix upon it, when meditating a long sojourn for the purpose of compiling the law. This consideration derives additional force when we consider the supply of wood, and other articles, requisite for the construction of the tabernacles, and which can only be found readily at Wadi Feiran, and of its being also, in all probability, from early times, a place visited by trading caravans. But if Moses were even unacquainted previously with the resources of the place, he must have passed it on his way from the sea-coast through the interior of the mountains; and it is inconceivable that he should have refused to avail himself of its singular advantages for his purpose, or that the host would have consented, without a murmur, to quit, after so much privation, this fertile and well-watered oasis for new perils in the barren desert; or that he should, humanly speaking, have been able either to compel them to do so, or afterwards to fix them in the inhospitable unsheltered position of the monkish Mount Sinai, with the fertile Feiran but one day’s long march in their rear. Supplies of wood, and perhaps of water, must, in that case, have been brought, of necessity, from the very spot they had but just abandoned. We must suppose that the Amalekites would oppose the onward march of the Israelites, where they alone had a fertile territory worthy of being disputed, and from which Moses must, of necessity, have sought to expel them. If it be so, then in this vicinity and no other we must look for Rephidim, from whence the Mount of God was at a very short distance. We seem thus to have a combination of circumstances which are met with nowhere else, to certify that it was here that Moses halted for the great work he had in view, and that the scene of the law-giving is here before our eyes in its wild and lonely majesty. The principal objection to this is on the following ground, that there is no open space in the immediate neighbourhood of the Serbal suitable for the encampment of the vast multitude, and from which they could all of them at once have had a view of the mountain, as is the case at the plain Er Rahah, at Mount Sinai, where Robinson supposes, principally for that reason, the law to have been given. But it this objection conclusive? We read, indeed, that Israel ‘camped before the mount’ and that ‘the Lord came down in sight of all the people’ moreover, that bounds were set to prevent the people from breaking through and violating even the precints of the holy solitude. Although these conditions are more literally fulfilled at Er Rahah, yet, if we understood them as couched in general terms, they apply, perhaps, well enough, to the vicinity of the Serbal. A glance at the view, and a reference to this small rough map [here follows a sketch of the plan] will show the reader that the main encampment of the host must have been in Wadi Feiran itself, from which the summit of the Serbal is only here and there visible, and that it is by the lateral Wadi Aleyal that the base of the mountain itself by a walk of about an hour is to be reached. It certainly struck me, in passing up this valley, as a very unfit, if not impracticable, spot for the encampment of any great number of people, if they were all in tents; though well supplied with pure water, the ground is rugged, and rocky, towards the base of the mountain awfully so; but still it is quite possible that a certain number might have established themselves there, as the Arabs do at present, while, as on other occasions, the principal masses were distributed in the surrounding valleys. I do not know that there is any adequate ground for believing, as Robinson does, that because the people were warned not to invade the seclusion of the mount, and a guard was placed to prevent them from doing so, that therefore the encampment itself pressed closely on its borders. Curiosity might possibly enough lead many to attempt this even from a distance, to say nothing of those already supposed to be located in the Wadi Aleyat, near the base of the mountain, to whom the injunction would more especially apply. Those, however, who press closely the literal sense of one or two passages, should bear in mind all the difficulties previously cited, and the absolute destitution of verdure, cultivation, running streams, and even of abundant springs, which characterise the fearfully barren vicinity of the monkish Sinai, where there is indeed room and verge enough for encampment, but no resources whatever. If we take up the ground of a continual and miraculous provision for all the wants of two millions of people, doubtless they may have been subsisted there as well as in any other place; otherwise it seems incredible that Moses should ever have abandoned a spot, offering such unique advantages as Feiran, to select instead the most dreary and sterile spot in its neighbourhood.”

This was the clearly felt, and unhesitatingly expressed impression that the companionship of those places with the Biblical narrative made upon a man, who yet finally remains in doubt, whether, notwithstanding all the cited grounds, it would not be better to follow the other “systems,” according to which the whole is regarded as an uninterrupted wonder from beginning to end, if it indeed be not so called in the Bible (see p. 19 of Bartlett’s work), in which case all the researches into the human probability of that great historical event become meaningless. The author then proceeds to some specialities, which he only mentions as such, in which he departs from my feeling, as he places the attack of the Amalekites farther down the valley towards El Hessue. The many ways in which such specialities can be explained, only point out the fact to us, that the general bearing of the most important circumstances of the question can alone produce positive conviction, and that where those are concerned the objections arising from the petty variations must recede.

Soon after Robinson, in 1843, Dr. John Wilson travelled through Palestine and the Petraïc peninsula, and published his comprehensive work on the subject (“The Lands of the Bible,” 2 vols., Edinburgh, 1847). Though he does not approach in the most remote degree the high position of his learned predecessor, I cannot but coincide in some remarks which he throws out against Robinson’s hypothesis, that the Sefsâf is the Mount of the Law (vol. i. pp. 222, sqq.). He again shows its connection with the tradition of Gebel Mûsa. In Serbâl, on the contrary, he believes he identifies the Mount Paran of the Bible (p. 199), an idea which could only be entertained if the name of Mount Paran was found to be another denomination of Sinai, and the latter be also identified with Serbâl. At the conclusion of the second volume (pp. 764, sqq.), the author adds a note, in which he defends himself from my contrary opinion concerning the position of Sinai. The most important reasons, however, which I have everywhere placed in the foreground, he does not at all touch upon, but only enlarges on specialities, some of which could easily be confuted, and the rest not bearing on the principal question. He places Daphka, not even mentioned in the principal history, and, therefore, certainly less considerable, in Wadi Firân, and Raphidîm, “the resting places,” in the bare sandy Wadi e’Sheikh, because there is no water there. But in that case, to use his own weapons, where is the fountain of Moses? “Few in the kingdom of Great Britain, at least,” says the author, “will be disposed to substitute the Wadi Feiran, with clear running water, for Rephidim, where there was no water for the people to drink.” I believe he does his countrymen wrong, if he considers them to diverge so generally from the almost univoce traditions, and to consider the feelings of learned fathers of the church, who place Raphidîm in Firân, and take the fountain there for the Fountain of Moses, as a rationalistic explanation of it; and, besides H. Bartlett, several others of his countrymen, among whom I particularise Mr. Hogg (see below for a notice of his essay), the Rev. Dr. Croly, and the author of the Pictorial Bible, have expressly declared in favour of my opinion. If he mean to say I had overlooked the fact that the wilderness of Sin, and the wilderness of Sinai, signified two different things, I will refer him to p. 47 of my work, where the contrary is distinctly stated. The words, “out of the wilderness of Sin,” I have also not left unnoticed (p. 39), as little as it was done by Eusebius and St. Jerome, who also allow the wilderness of Sin to stretch as far as that of Sinai. The strife with Amalek, as it is related in Exodus, gives the impression of a general and stubborn fight; that the principal attack in front was supported by an attack in the rear, as it is added in Deuteronomy xxv. 18, is not contradicted; the double attack, too, seems to be alluded to there in the words [Hebrew] ἀντέστη σοι έν τῇ ὁδῷ, καὶ ἔκοψε σου τὴν οὐραγίαν.[157] Near Elim twelve springs [Hebrew] not wells, are named; but this does not change the matter here, as twelve running springs, like those in Wadi Firân, cannot be thought of, but as the author (vol. i., p. 175) himself remarks, only standing ground waters, which must be dug out, and, therefore, in fact, wells. The great number of these is alone important, from which the size of the place can be calculated. The Sheikh Abu Zelîmeh I was well acquainted with, but that would not hinder a connection of the word with the place, although I do not lay the slightest stress on such coincidences.

The author does not bring forth other grounds, which he believes would militate against my opinion; these may, perhaps, have touched the principal points of the whole question, which were still unconfuted. Perhaps the author may now find it necessary to add them with respect to the investigations of a countryman of his, Mr. John Hogg, who took up the inquiry first in the Gentleman’s Magazine, March, 1847, and then in the transactions of the Royal Society of Literature, second series, vol. iii. pp. 183-236 (read May, 1847, January, 1848); subsequently extending it considerably under the title of “Remarks and Additional Views on Dr. Lepsius’s proofs that Mount Serbal is the true Mount Sinai; or the Wilderness of Sin; on the Manna of the Israelites; and on the Sinaitic Inscriptions.” This learned writer collates the earliest traditions, and seeks to prove from them that, before the time of Justinian, they referred to Serbâl, and not to Gebel Mûsa. Indeed he seems to have succeeded, and we shall return to the question hereafter.

Since that time the comprehensive and masterly work of my honoured friend Carl Ritter: Vergleichende Erdkunde der Sinai-Halbinsel, von Palästina und Syrien, erster Band, Berlin, 1848—(Comparative Geology of the peninsula of Sinai, of Palestine, and Syria, volume one),—has appeared. The exhausting use and employ of all sources from the oldest down to the most recent, for an as grandly conceived, as circumstantially executed, general picture of the peninsula in its geographical relations and in the relative history of its population, has also not left the question under discussion, in which history and geography are in closer connection than in any other, unillustrated. Sinai is for the peninsula what Jerusalem is to Palestine, and it is ascertained that the building of the church at Gebel Mûsa, in the sixth century, brought about by the belief that it was founded at the place where the Law was given, caused the historical centre of the peninsula,—which formerly was undoubtedly identical with the city of Pharan and its palm-forest, as the natural geographical centre,—to be parted from it, and removed several days’ journey further south; just as certain must the determination of the question, whether a first or second parting of the historical and geographical centre could be of considerable influence in the exposition of the earliest history of the peninsula, and could even exercise some influence on the future tone, not only of Sinaitic literature, but even on some of the relations of the place itself which not unfrequently subject, to some extent, the destinations of the continually increasing number of travellers. Ritter’s work, of course, had at once to choose one of the two opinions. And, naturally, after the final examination of the considerable previous works, the new opinion which first stepped forth against the view undoubted for a thousand years, and accepted by all the later travellers, in an incidental form, in a necessarily imperfect report of a journey, could make the less demand for preference, as it was not critically examined in any way, nor taken into consideration by later travellers. I know how to value the equally careful as impartial recognizing examination which Ritter has given in his work to the grounds in favour of Serbâl being Sinai.

This he does at pp. 736 seq. Here he at once rebuts the opinion, that the tradition of the convent on Gebel Mûsa, only known to us since the sixth century, can decide anything; “the tradition of the still more ancient convent of Serbâl, and the Serbâl-city of Wadi Firân, it might be said, was just as much existing, and has only been lost, as far as we are concerned.” Therefore, other grounds taken from nature and history ought to vouch for it. Then he brings up the opinion of Robinson, who places Raphidîm in the upper part of the Wadi e’ Sheikh, but forcibly instances against it, that it would then have been visited and mentioned on the continuation of the journey, and in another place just as appositely, that one cannot, in that case, understand how the people could have grumbled about water, only one day’s journey beyond the well-watered Firân, while this is easily explained on the long way from Elim to the vicinity of Firân. Ritter therefore takes, with me and the old tradition, the curious brook of Firân to be the fountain of Moses. He only objects that, if Moses struck the fountain from out of the rocks, it must have been at the beginning, not at the end of the present rivulet, and he therefore places Raphidîm in the uppermost part of the Wadi Firân, the fertility of which could not have existed before the fountain was made. As to the situation of the Mount of the Law, he declines at present to pledge himself to any distinct decision. “We see,” he says, “already in the almost contemporaneous historians, Jerome (Procopius?) and Cosmas, the variation of opinion concerning these localities, of which no one appears definitely settled before another, even in the latest double views by according and sufficient grounds, to us at least. As both these modes of explanation of a text so obscure in topographical matters, as a but imperfectly known locality, can only use hypothetical probabilities, as briefly for a more certain explanation; so let it be permitted to state our hypothetical view on this probably never-to-be quite settled matter.”

This is to the effect that the “Mountain of God,” where Moses was encamped, when he was visited by Jethro in Raphidîm, “could not in any case be the convent Mount of Sinai, (i. e. Gebel Mûsa,) although this is so named at a subsequent period, as that of the true God, from which one was then in every case far distant, but might indeed be a denomination of the high, much nearer Serbâl, as one was yet in camp at Raphidîm.” He, too, perceives an interruption of the connection at the beginning of the nineteenth chapter with the previous chapters, but seeks for the cause in a chasm in the text, while I would rather perceive a short interpolation. In this chasm falls the departure of the people from the valley of Firân for the upper Sheikh valley and to that of Gebel Mûsa, the true Sinai. This was first simply “the mountain,” (Exodus, xix. 2,) and only obtained the name of a “Mountain of God,” after the giving of the law (which, however, is already contradicted by the next following verse, xix. 3), while Serbâl might have received the denomination of “Mountain of God” from a heathen idol there worshipped.

“Both mountains, the Mount of God (Serbâl) in Raphidîm, and the Mount in the desert of Sinai, are therefore just as various in name, as they are separated by the last journeys between both camps.” The general features of nature round about Gebel Mûsa, he considers more fitting for a longer stay of the people on account of the greater security, coolness, and the Alp-like pasture land. Only the name Horeb, already comprehended in Raphidîm, could be an objection, yet there seems to him to be no sufficient grounds existing, why this name, already considered as a general term by Robinson, Hengstenberg, and others, should not be extended to the outer ranges of Serbâl.

The acceptation of two mountains of God, Serbâl and Gebel Mûsa, is, as far I can tell, here attempted for the first time. It is certainly, the necessary, only not yet enounced consequence, for all those who place Raphidîm in Firân. In this there seems to me to lie an evident proof with reference to the critical examination of the text, that both mountains are again to be found in Serbâl. The greater security of the plain of Râha would not be very high for a “harnessed” (Exodus xvi. 18,) host of 600,000 men, after they had taken a firm footing, and Serbâl would also have always offered a safe place of retreat. The cold in the lofty mountains, causing water to freeze (Ritter, p. 445-630) in February in the convent (5,000 feet above the sea), according to Rüppell and Robinson, would alone have made an open camp on the plain of Râha impossible during the winter, for a population accustomed to the Egyptian climate, to the vegetation of those districts, which is certainly differently described by the different travellers; the thought there is no doubt of the Israelites having at one period been there, may partially have induced several to accept more shrubs in the neighbourhood than they actually saw at the time, partly there, no question that the season of the year may make some difference; I therefore willingly observe, that I visited the peninsula at about the same season of the year in which, according to the Mosaic account, the Israelites came thither.

Finally, Ritter has again spoken upon the Sinai question in a more popular essay: “The Sinaitic Peninsula, and the Route of the People of Israel to Sinai,” in the Evangelischen Kalender, for 1852, edited by F. Piper, pp. 31, sqq. Here, too, he places Raphidîm in Firân, and perceived the mountain of God at Raphidîm, in Serbâl. Against the identity of Serbâl and Sinai, he brings these two chief objections. As it has now been perfectly settled that the so-called Sinaitic inscriptions are of heathen origin, and prove Serbâl, to which they chiefly point as the “centre of an ancient worship,” this remarkable mountain could not be “a mountain of Jehovah, if it were already a sacred mountain of the idolaters” (p. 51). And further on (p. 52):—“The holy mountain of Israel did not lie in the territory of Amalek, like Serbâl, but in the east and south parts of the territory of Midian,” for it is expressly said in Exodus (iv. 19):—“And the Lord said unto Moses, in Midian, Go, return into Egypt,” in order that they should sacrifice to him on these mountains, Horeb and Sinai, in Midian (Exodus iii. 1-12).” Of these two points, however, the first seems to me a very important argument for Serbâl-Sinai. Serbâl was also a holy mountain for the tribes in the peninsula at a later period, as it is not called “Idol Mountain,” before the giving of the Law, but “Mountain of God” (Exodus iii. 1, iv. 27, xviii. 5), just as it was after the giving of the Law (Exodus xxiv. 13; 1 Kings xix. 8), and a subsequent appropriation of the mountain to a heathen worship is much less remarkable. No reason is to be found, however, in the fact, that when the Lord spoke to Moses he lived in Midian with Jethro, to warrant the placing of the mountain of the Law in Midian, for that it nowhere said. We only know, that Raphidîm, where Jethro visited Moses from Midian, lay in the territory of the Amalekites, as they here made the attack. Eusebius, who (s. v. Ῥαφιδίμ) expressly refers Raphidîm and Choreb to Pharan, says (s. v. χωρήβ) that this mountain of God lay in Madian. Also in Itinerar. Antonini, c. 40, Pharan is placed in Madian.

Would that these observations, in which I believe I have touched upon almost all the more important grounds of their esteemed author, may prove to him, how high a value I set upon each of his opinions, as those of a more competent judge in this field of research than any other. Ritter’s long, well-known tact for the truth in such questions would have caused me to have less faith in my own view than all the grounds he produces, which are generally to be confuted, as it appears, if I had not in this case the advantage of a personal inspection of the localities, unprejudiced by any former opinion, which could make it less independent of former writers, than it is possible for him to have.

NOTE B.

(Letter XXXIII. p. 354.)

Robinson gives the distances from Ayûn Mûsa to the crossing point of Wadi Shebêkeh, and Wadi Taibeh (vol. iii. Part II. p. 804); these correspond tolerably well with Burckhardt (pp. 624, 625), who continues the distances up to Wadi Firân; these last, if we take his round across Dhafari into consideration, are confirmed by my own. The calculation in Robinson (p. 196), however, does not comprehend the four or five hours’ longer way round from the convent, through Wadi e’ Sheikh; for Burckhardt went over the Nakb el Haui in eleven hours to Firân, while we required sixteen, subtracting the little way through the Ktesse valley. From this the distances are thus proportioned:—From Ayûn Mûsa to Ain Hawârah, eighteen hours and thirty-five minutes; thence to Wadi Gharandel, two hours, thirty minutes (not an hour and a half to two hours, as it is calculated in the text, from the camp of Robinson); to the end of the valley, near Abu Zelîmeh, seven hours, twelve minutes; thence to the sea, one hour; to Wadi Shellâl four hours, fifteen minutes; to Firân, thirteen hours, forty-five minutes; to the convent, sixteen hours. The camp in the Wilderness of Sin, Robinson cannot refer more to the south than to the end of the Wadi Shellâl; because the people, according to him, here left the Wilderness of Sin, as necessarily Alus falls with him beyond Firân. On the other hand, according to my opinion, the camp at the sea is not only not different from that at the entrance of the valley near Abu Zelîmeh, but the Wilderness of Sin of Exodus, which reached to Sinai, and ended with Raphidîm, is also the same with the two stations, Daphka and Alus, in Numbers, and therefore should have no more been mentioned at the latter place as particular camp stations than the Red Sea. The Wilderness of Sin comprehended, accordingly, like the Wilderness of Sur, three days’ journey. The stations and their distances may be thus reckoned:—

According to Robinson:—

According to my researches:—

That the last stations are somewhat shorter than the first, may be understood from the greater difficulties of the way. Why had the people murmured, so near to the twelve springs of Elim? How could the particularly long journey of more than eight hours from Elim to the sea have passed without being mentioned? And how could the day’s journey have become continually longer in the high mountains and heavy ground?

NOTE C.

(Letter XXXIII. p 364.)

The commentators on this passage take the words [Hebrew] [Hebrew] “In the third month,” as if it were written: “On the first day of the third month,” and thus make the succeeding words, “on this day,” also relate to the first day of the month. Vide Gesenius, Thesaur. p. 404, b.:—“tertiis calendis post exitum,” and p. 449, b.:—tertio novilunio, i.e. calendis mensis tertii. Ewald, Gesch. des v. Israels, vol. ii. p. 189:—“The day (?) of the third month (which is, however, of the new moon, therefore the first day).” But the Seventy did not understand it thus, in any case, as they translate:—“τοῦ δὲ μηνὸς τοῦ τρίτου τῇ ἡμέρᾳ ταύτῃ.” The Jewish tradition seems also not to have taken its meaning thus, as the Jews celebrated the Giving of the Law, which, according to Exodus, xix. 11, 15, occurred on the third day after their arrival, upon the fifth or sixth day of the third month, together with that on the fiftieth day after the harvest-feast (Leviticus, xxiii. 15, 16), subsequent to the Exode, according to which the arrival at Sinai must fall on the third day of the third month. It is not to be understood how [Hebrew] without any suffix should be used for “new-moon day,” though it has lost that analogical meaning in all the different places, and only signifies month, even in such places where the “day of the new moon” is intended (such as Exodus xl. 2, 17; Numbers i. 1; xxxiii. 38), where it is particularly added [Hebrew] “on the first (day) of the month,” against which passages like Numbers, ix. 1, and xx. 1, cannot be produced, because there is as little ground to understand the first of the month, as in Exodus xix. 1, and the Seventy do not translate ἐν ἡμέρᾳ μιᾷ, or νουμηνίᾳ, as in the other passages, but only as the simple sense of the words is:—“ἐν τῷ μηνὶ τῷ πρώτῳ”. There would only thus remain one passage, xix. 1, from which one might conclude such an ambiguous use of [Hebrew], because here certainly the following words, “on this day,” point to a certain single day which is not, however, now to be guessed from our text. But this, in my opinion, is no unimportant reason for supposing a transposition or a later interpolation of these two verses. The latter idea is also accepted by Ewald, as he (Gesch. v. Isr. vol. i. p. 75) refers the narrative xix. 3, 24, to the oldest source, but not the two first verses. It has been already mentioned that Josephus (Ant. iii. 2, 5), who also does not understand the words as referring to the first day of the months, transposes the passage, and, indeed, to the same place whither I, without knowing it, had placed it in my former report (p. 48), i.e. immediately after the battle of the Amalekites, to which “this day” most naturally refers. If this be true, the original text also expressed that the Israelites were not only by Horeb but by Sinai, near Raphidîm in Wadi Firân, where they fought the battle, i.e. that both the holy mountains are one, and that Moses received the visit of Jethro first at Sinai; and, as it would seem, in natural course of events, first organized his people at Sinai, with which, however, it is also said, that Sinai, or Horeb, was no other mountain than Serbâl.

Granted that we have in this way understood the original connection, no naming of the month would be necessary; this was probably added at the isolation of the succeeding section, referring to the giving of the law. Under these circumstances, there would only be three exact dates for the whole journey. The people departs from Ramses on the fifteenth day of the first month in the first year; it proceeds from Elim, half the distance, and just one month, on the fifteenth day of the second month of the first year. The resting days at the stations are unknown; but if it be taken for granted that the people proceeded without staying, it came to Raphidîm on the third day from Elim, obtained the water on the fourth, and was attacked by Amalek, fought on the fifth until after sunset to the beginning of the sixth day, and on the same day (for the Hebrew day began at sundown) encamped at Sinai. This would have occurred on the twentieth day of the second month in the first year. Now, as the departure from Sinai took place on the twentieth day of the second month of the second year, the stay at Sinai would have been exactly one year. This coincidence was probably originally just as accidental as the lapse of exactly one month between the first departure from Ramses and the second from Elim.

NOTE D.

(Letter XXXIII. p. 369.)

There are yet two marble inscriptions in the wall of the convent towards the garden referring to the founding of the place, one Greek and one Arabic. Burckhardt (Trav. p. 545) says:—“An Arabic inscription over the gate, in modern characters, says that Justinian built the convent in the thirtieth year of his reign, as a memorial of himself and his wife Theodora. It is curious to find a passage of the Koran introduced into this inscription; it was probably done by a Moslem sculptor, without the knowledge of the monks.” Certainly the Arabic inscription is over the little door leading into the garden. But if Burckhardt saw it here, it is not to be understood how he did not see the Greek inscription beside it, with a similar border and covering. Robinson did not see either (vol. i. p. 205). Ricci had copied the Greek inscription, and it has been printed and translated by Letronne in Journ. des Savans, 1836, p. 538, with a few little variations. But another copy, which had escaped Letronne, had been published in 1823 by Sir F. Henniker (Notes during a Visit to Egypt, &c. pp. 235, 236), which is, however, very inaccurate, though it attempts to give even the manner of writing. The Arabic inscription has not, as far as I am aware, been made known at all. I have taken impressions in paper of both, and publish them here faithfully. The Greek is as follows:—

Ἐκ βάθρων ἀνηγέρθη τὸ ἱερὁν τοῦτο μοναστήριον τοῦ Σιναίου ὄρους, ἔνθα ἐλάλησεν ὁ Θεὸς τῷ Μωυσῇ, παρὰ τοῦ ταπεινοῦ βασιλέως Ῥωμαίων Ἰουστινιανοῦ πρὸς ἀἶδιον μνημόσυνον αὐτοῦ καὶ τῆς συζύγου τοῦ Θεοδώρας· ἔλαβε τέλος μετὰ τὸ τριακοστὸν ἔτος τῆς βασιλείας τοῦ, καὶ κατέστησεν ἐν αὐτῷ ἡγούμενον ὀνόματι Δουλᾶ ἔν ἔτει ἀπὸ μὲν Ἀδὰμ σκά, ἀπὸ δὲ Χριστοῦ φκζ.

“This holy monastery was erected on Mount Sinai, where God spake unto Moses, by the humble king of the Romans, Justinian, unto the everlasting remembrance of himself and of his wife Theodora. It received its completion in the thirtieth year of his reign, and he set a governor over it, Dulas by name, in the year from Adam, 6021, and from Christ, 527.”

Letronne read ἐν ᾦ πρῶτον instead of ἔνθα, and κατέστησε τὸν instead of κατέστησεν in the seventh line. The characters are those of the twelfth or thirteenth century. As the Emperor Justinian reigned from 527-565, it is judged by the writer that the decree for the erection of the convent and the placing of the abbot Dulas falls in the first year of the government of the emperor, although the completion of the building is first placed in the thirtieth year of the same, i. e. A.D. 556. The year of the world 6021 answers to A.D. 527, according to the Alexandrian era of Pandorus and Anianus.[158]

The Arabic inscription is thus:—