Sabbath at Sinai — Starlight — Monks — Ascent of the Mountain — Shrubs — Top — View — The Law-Giving — Descent — Monk's Cell — Departure — Wady Sheikh — Wady Berah
Mount Sinai, Sabbath, Jan. 27. — Rose early, and went out to the roof to read over and examine the passaires relatinfr to Sinai. I had read them a thousand times before; hut to read them on the spot, and at the foot of the old mountain, was new and strange. The morning was clear, but cold. One of the monks kept walking about also, as if anxious to give me his company. He was not very attractive in look, and could talk nothing but Arabic. I tried him in vain with Greek and Latin. I got this much out of him, that the peaks which are visible from the convent are not the real peaks of Sinai. Jebel Milsa is “fok, fuk,” — said he, pointing with his finger in a way which told me that it was beyond and above these cliffs which were overhanging u.s, and on each of which we could see little crosses. It lay a little to the south and west of us, rising like a cone or spire out of a hollow, of which these other peaks formed the outer edge. This was all I could get from Llie monk, and a.s I preferred being alone, I walked to motlar part of the roof.
At the angles of the convent there are pennons or flags, which, when I came upon the roof at first, had not been hoisted, but which in a short time were “run lip” by the “lay brother,” whose charge they were. The slender pole to which they are attached, is surmounted by a cross, and being formed apparently of some cypress stem or sapling, it has sinuosities which make it resemble the figure of a seryent. Hence some travellers have mistaken it for a representation of the brazen serpent.
It was Sabbath, — and Sabbath at the foot of Sinai. These rocks had heard the words, “Remember the Sabbath-day to keep it holy,” and could testify that He who spoke these words, meant the Sabbath for a blessing, not for a curse; for rest, not for burden-bearing, foi liberty, not for bondage. Yet every argument that I had read at home against the Sabbath, took for granted that the institution was evil and not good, and that Christ has brought us a happy deliverance from the Sabbath-yoke! We found how good it was to rest from our journey each seventh day, and we did not find that it made the rest less pleasant to know that it was “according to the commandment.” It was pleasant to hear the Sabbath-bell, even in the midst of superstition. The frequent tolhng or striking was no grating sound, either at noon or midnight.*
* “They are permitted to strike on bells, but not to suspend them.” — Lahorde, p. 315. We saw them, however, suspended, so that this law must no longer be in force.
WORSHIP. 2”:^
AVe breakfasted at nine, and had prayers in our rooms; but at one we went ont to have more regular Sabbath-worship at the foot of the hill. We preferred the free air and broad mountain-side to our narrow chamber. So we went about a mile up the hill, to the spot where it begins to look over to the other side, and there we sat down, with our bibles. “We sung together one of David’s psalms, and kneeling down on the rock, we joined in prayer. After reading the fourth chapter of Deuteronomy, I preached on Romans iii. 21, 22, — the sin and the righteousness, — man’s sin, God’s righteousness, — righteousness placed at our disposal and within our reach by that very God who on this mountain had condemned our sin, — righteousness of which we are put in immediate possession upon our reception of the divine testimony respecting it. We then sung the doxology, “To Father, Son, and Holy Ghost;” and after service we separated. I returned to the convent, and spent the afternoon in reading the joassages which refer to Sinai, and in noting down texts for my class at home. Such as these came into remembrance, “Our God is a consuming fire” (Heb xii. 29); “by the law is the knowledge of sin” (Rom. iii. 20); “Christ is the end of the law for righteousness to every one that believeth” (Rom. X. 4).*
‘ITio old hymn brings out the contmat between Sinai and Sion: — Sinic sub alto vcrtlce
Caplo toniinto, lex data;
Inter tubas ct fulcura
Pracwns inlnabafir Dou.t
Tn the evening I enjoyed the starlight upon the roo£ These blue Sabbath-heavens! How cahn they looked, even when resting over a mountain so terrible as that of Sinai. It seemed as if its terrors were all confined to itself. It could not communicate these to the heavens above it, nor dim tle brilliance of a single star. Orion looked brighter tli:.. over, as he passed along tl.e peaks, and shed down his quiet lustre upon their awful gloom.
Mount Sinai, Monday, Jan. 28. — Went to the roof about seven for a morning walk. It was just dawn. The sunshine had lighted on the topmost peaks, and was beginning slowly to descend their steep and haggard sides. I watched the descent till the sun at last reached the foot, and shot across the plain, brightening the level sands.
After breakfast met one of the monks upon the roof He knew nothing of Latin, — a little of Italian, and as much of Greek as was needful for getting through the service of a Greek convent. He was conning an official volume, which he shewed me. It was in modern Greek, and seemed such a work as “The Whole Duty of Man” or Taylor’s “Holy Living.” It was a sort of directory
Kunc, tcmperato Niiminc,
Per Tela carnis blandius
Amat ^■i(leri, languidis
Se lumen aptans sensibus.
Insculpta saxo lex vetus
Pracepta non vires dabat;
Inseripta cordi lex nova
Quidquld jubet dat e.lequl.
THE “SHORTER CATECHISM.” 231
for a “perfect life.” After looking at it for a little, I drew out a copy of our Scottish “Shorter Catechism” in. Greek, translated by Mr Robert Young, formerly of Edinburgh, and asked him to read it. He began at once, and read the first five or six questions to me. Thoigh his pronunciation was different in some respects from ours, yet I could follow him entirely, as he read slowly, first the question and then the answer. He seemed pleased with what he read, and said it was good. Strangely interesting it was to hear the Catechism we had learned in childhood, and which every child in Scotland knows, read by a Greek monk at the foot of Sinai, — to listen to him as he read “Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him for ever;” and again, “God is a spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wis<lom, power, hoimess, justice, goodness, and truth.” I asked him to accept the copy; — on which he thanked me, and “bowed with his face to the earth.” Soon after, he gr.ot tofjether three or four of his brethren, and road it to them. I gave him an Italian testament and some Greek tracts. In return he presented me with some pomegranates from the garden, and some shells from the Red Sea.*
Wo .started for the top of Jebel ^liisa about half-past ten, one of the monks accompanying us. Some of the others took the winding road to the south, — I tried the
Of thoflo sholls camel-loads are brought to the convont from the Red ck.-a. Thuy sorvo as morchaudLso or as gifts to pilgriius and travoUors, aa tho occasion may require.
more direct Liit steeper one, just behind the conATiit, guided by two Arab boys who brought me crystals from the mountain. Though very rugged, yet it has steps cut or laid the most of the way. These are said to have been made by the Empress Helena, but are perhaps more ancient. Some old writers number them at 6000 !, In about twenty minutes we came to a beautiful well, quite under some lofty rocks, called Ma’yan-cl-Jchel, or the spring of the mountain. It seemed to be carefully kept, and round it large stones were set in a wide circle, on which might have been written” rest and be thankful.’’ I enjoyed the shade for a few minutes, and dipping mj, guttapercha cup into it, I tasted its waters. They were sweet and cool. A few small plants grew round the inner margin, and a slight green scum covered part oj the pool; but no moss grew upon the rocks that at some parts overshadowed it, and in others dipped into it Neither in Egypt nor in the desert did we find moss on the rocks. In the deep wells or tanks of Egypt one maj find it, but nowhere else. It needs more moisture as well as more shade for its growth than these lands afford. The country of the stately palm is not the regioK for the lowly moss.*
* Poets in their descriptions ought to he accurate. Tet they are ofter far from being so. They write at random or draw upon fancy. Hence Kchle speaks of the mountains of P.alcstine as “terrasscd high with mossj stone” (Christian Year, Third Sunday in Advent). My friend, Mr Adara White, of the British Museum, commissioned me to bring him some moss from the East. Uut though I was there at a tolerably moist season, ] could with difficulty fulfil my commission. I could get none in Egypt. 1 j ASCENT OF JEBEL MUSA. 233
! I pushed upwards. One or two chapels I passed at different halting-ptaces. They were in miserable disrepair, but scribbled over in the inside with the names of )i]grims and travellers. Then came the fine hollow or )asin more than halfway up the hill, in the midst of I’hich stands the old cypress, called Elijah’s tree, hard )y which there is a well or circular pond, containing a ittle water. The chapel of that prophet is also shewn lere. It is out of this mountain-wady that the rugged op oi Jehel MAsa rises like a cone out of the hollow of ome vast crater. Up to this Joshua and the elders of srael ascended along with Moses. Here they halted while he went up “into the mount,” and waited for his etuni. It was here that “the nobles of Israel did eat md drink” (Exod. xxiv. 11). It was here that “they aw the God of Israel, and under his feet, as it were, a )aved work of .sapphire-stone, and as it were, the body )f licavon in its clearness.” The multitude, who .stood ifar off below, only saw the “devouring fire” on the top )f the mount, but the elders were allowed a nearer vi- ;ion of the glory, and brought directly under it, to the “cot of the great central peak which the fire was girdling ■ound, and on which the shckiuah rested. Only Closes was allowed to ascend that highest peak, and to pass nto the very midst of the glory. The people thus stood II ‘’ the outer court;” the elders in the “holy place;” —
fot none in tho Desert. I could pet none in the “ten-as.<iod” hills of Pales- ,ino. I Biicccoded in tho valley ol Ilinnom, ono .side of which is moist niid ibndy.
Moses in “the holy of holies.” This singular valley or circular hollow, so far up the mount, ex])lains those passages in the ScrijDture narrative which speak of Moses, and Joshua, and the elders, leaving the people and ascending the hill, — and again of Moses leaving the elders and going up to stand before God. So far as I am aware, the other mountains fixed on by some as the true Sinai, — Serbal, Sasafeh, Katherine, have no such resting-place. This much, at least, may be said in favour of Jebel Miisa.
We now pressed upwards, not even staying to notice the footmarks of Mahomet’s camel on the rock. There was no vegetation visible, save perhaps in a hollow oi crevice here and there, a small shrub a few inches high.^ The mountain was utterly bare. When actually on it the fiery redness of its granite, which glares on the eye in the distance, softens into a dingy brovn, with a slighl tinge of red here and there. There were still rude step; in the rock or amidst the debris, which somewhat lessened the labour of climbing, though, after all, the ascen is very steep, and more than once we had to make oui way over snow which lay nearly a foot deep in som( parts. In about an hour and a half from the time w(
* I pulled from one of these crevices the small aromatic jilant callei Jadheh, which the monks assured me was hyssop; and the Zalur, also fragrant, like our thyme. Not that these plants are confined to this mountain. They are to be found all over the desert, as also ai-e the Shia, whicl from the Red Sea and onwards (with some intervals) continued to refreal us all the way, and the Gkelvff, not so fragrant, common to most of th wadies. Also the Ajram.
ft the convent, we reached the top, — the “grey top” ‘Sinai, for while the great body of the mountain is of d granite, this is of grey. Whether from decay or the icuharity of the original formation, I do not know, the anite appeared laminated on the top, so that we were )le to split off some slices with the help of our hamoi-s, of perhajDS an inch in thickness. With these exliated fragments we filled our bags or pockets, thinkg it worth our while to carry home with us sjaecimens
that mountain which “burned with fire,” and on which jhovah himself descended. The wind was strong and e air cold, so we took shelter under part of the low ill at the entrance to one of the chapels. While the onk who was with us was striking a light and preparg coflfce, we were gazing on the scene, and writing a w short letters to friends, dated “the top of Sinai.” had taken with me “the ten commandments” in the iginal, on a large sheet, and, spreading it out, I read -er the law, upon the summit of that mountain where
had been given three thousand five hundred years jfore. The cold and the driving wind were considerable nderances, and more than once my tables of the law ere on the point of being torn in pieces and carried vay, but I accomplished my purpose. It was intcrestg at the time; nor is it less so in recollection.
The day was not clear; mists were rising in the hori- )n, so that we did not sec afar otf. But we saw the great and terrible wilderness” around us, and it was vision of more utter barrenness and desolation than we had ever seen or faiK-ieJ. No soft feature in thi landscape to mitigate the unbroken horror. No greei spot, no tree, no flower, no rill, no lake, — but darl brown ridges, red peaks, like pyramids of solid fire. N( rounded hillocks or soft mountain-curves such as one see even in the ruggcdest of home scenes, — l:)ut monstroii and misshapen cliffs, — rising tier above tier, and surmounted here and there by some spire-like summit, — ser rated for miles into ragged grandeur, and grooved frou head to foot by the winter-torrents that had swept dowi like bursting water-spouts, tearing their naked loins, an( cutting into the very veins and sinews of the fiery roci
“How did the wide and melancholy earth
Gather her hills around us, grey and ghastly,
And stare with blank magnificence of loss
Right in our faces.”
I need not mention the mighty Serbdl in the distance or Jebel Kdtherin close at hand, or the adjoining peak that make up the Sinaitic group. These certainly wer the spires which rose above all the rest in majesti gloom. But all around these were masses of lower peaks variously coloured and as diversely shaped, — forming one vast forest of hills, or rather one awful stretch o rocky onoorland, “a land of darkness, as darkness itself and of the shadow of death, without any order, an( where the light is as darkness” (Job x. 22). In ordinary circumstances this j)<’^ssage would hardly have been applicable, for sunshine lights up these wilds au( mitigates their horrors. But while we were gazing,; oe storm drove over them; clouds slurt out the sun; 1 the snow, home upon the mountain-blast threw a mal shadow over what in itself was as dismal as could conceived. It was the perfection of dreanness and rror The snow-blast compelled us to descend sooner ,n we meant, having only spent about an hour upon. top. Yet during that time we saw the pos.t.on of M Muea.” It is the pivot or centre-peak of the nee, though not the highest.
Relsoning from their own ideas of grandeur, some .ve argued against this being the” mount of God be- .use it is not so noble as Serbal or Katherm Th.s.
proof Man’s ideas of what the mount of God ought, L are not to be trusted. Others again insist on S««.- ,h bein<^ the mount, because it is visible from the plam of MK which Jebel MCsa is not. Yet this amounts 0 nothing; as any reader of the holy narrative will seat is nowhere said that the people saw the mountinn or its op it is only said that they saw the fire and the glory.
Lb, blazing up into the heavens, won d be perfectly ,idblc from the plain. The mountain itself, whether it .ere SasTifeh or Jebel Mdsa. would be ,„ite invisib e bein- wrapped round with smoke and flame; but the
,ae: whc’e it wa. could not be bid, for it is writ en :. the mountain burned with fire unto the midst of
joining.
238 THE “cloud” ox the mount.
heaven, (or more literally, up to the very heart of heaven) with darkness, clouds, and thick darkness” (Deut. iv. 11). Perhaps the appearance presented was that of the whole mountain, up to the very top, swathed in clouds of thickest gloom (Ex. xix. 1 9), and then out of the midst of this girdle or mantle of awful darkness iose the supernatural flame. “A cloud covered the mount” (Exod. xxiv. 15); and then it is added, “the glory of the Lord (the shekinah) abode upon mount Sinai... and the light of the glory of the Lord was like devouring fire on the top of the mount in the eyes of the children of Israel.” It was thus that the pillar-cloud rested on and covered Sinai, and it was thus that “the glory” (or shekinah), which had appeared to Moses in the bush, blazed up out of the cloud. Yet the mountain did not fall to pieces under the pressure of the infinite glory, just as the “bush” was not consumed when the glory rested there. Besides, had Er-Rahah been visible from the top, Moses would have seen and known what was going on behind before lie descended, whereas it is evident that he only heard the shouting, but knew not what it meant till he came down and saAV the calf and the dancing (Exod. xxxii. 1 9). Of course this is no actual proof that Jebel Musa is mount Sinai, but it is a strong presumption in favour of immemorial tradition, and an answer to some of the objections uro-ed against its being so.
After gazing round on the wild scene, and securing some relics of the mountain — some memorials of our
A monk’s librahy. 233
cent — “we descended. The snow joassed into rain as 3 got to the foot, but all the afternoon the wind blew arply. In the course of the day I went into one of ,8 small rooms of the monks, at his own invitation., was dark and dingy, though not uncomfortable. He emed anxious to offer some kindness in return for y small gift in the forenoon, and then shewed me s library. It was small enough. A Greek and rabic Lexicon was the chief book on his shelf, and newspaper in the same language lay on his table, spied a folio, and he brought it to me. It was a rayer-book in Greek, with the gospels and epistles ariDfred for the different festivals. As we did not succeed I our attempts at conversation, I soon withdrew. In the evening two or three of the monks visited ns; lit it was to get us to buy their pots of manna (an cudation from the tavfa*), at one shilUng each, — and leir little skins of dates and almonds pressed together. hese dates are from the more southern point of the
Lepsiua, who wonders how any one can believe Ismcl’s manna to be lytbing else than the desert tree-honey, tells us that this tarfa-dew tricklis down in incredible quantities “every morning upon the sand. ow, wo are assured on good authority, that the whole quantity collected iroughout tho peninsula in the most fruitful season only amounts to M) pounds’ weight! If tho reader will divide this by 2,000,000 (the limbers of tho children of Isr.vel), and again by tho number of days in 10 year, ho will find what a sm.all amount of sustcnaneo each Israelite lust have had. Tiiero would not bo so much as one of these “yellow riii)s” of tarfiidow to each, even had they rcapc<l tho whole produce of )0 ilcscrt. Was this tho nieaiiing of tho pswsage, “lio SATlsVlED them ‘ith the ubeaD oy ulaVlN?” (I’sa. cv. 40.)
peninsula, in the neighbourhood of Tor, where th( monks possess large palm-plantations, cultivated fo them by the Arabs. This was almost the only interview which we had had with them, save in a previou part of the day, when they gathered round Mr Wrigh and sat to the photograph for their pictures. Witl these they were abundantly pleased,. Their dark eyei and faces, long beards and flowing robes, made excelleu portraits.
In the works of some travellers we have read mos’ exaggerated statements as to this famous convent. It: stateliness is praised. I saw nothing of this. On th( contrary, it appeared to me poor in every way, withii and without. To be sure, no building, of whatever size could look stately at the base of such a mountain When man builds upon the top of a lofty cliff or hil he gets the benefit of the height, and his structure ii set off by the elevation of its position; but, when lu chooses the foot, he loses amazingly, and his palace however goodly, shrinks into a pasteboard-cottage, over shadowed by the enormous mountain-wall. And so ii is with the convent. But besides this, it is poor enougi in itself. Its fortifications, its walls, its cannons, ifo chapels, its buildings, — have all been made the theme of admiration. There must have been some sjdcII ovei the admirer’s eye when he drew so fair a picture And as to the trees of the garden being exotics oj richer lands, and memorials brought hither by Greeks of their native Greece, — I shall say nothing save thai there was not a tree in it for which any one needed to go farther than Palestine, — if indeed so far. No doubt Achaia had its cypress-hearing mountains ;* but Syria has it cypress-bearing plains. -f*
Mount Sinai, Tuesday, Jan. 29. — Rose at seven. Walked out on the roof and read Psa. xl. In the distance was the plain of Er-Rahah, and almost under me was the garden, whose trees, with the exception of the blossoming almond and the evergreen cypress, shewed no sign of life. No palm rises there. That tree loves a lower region and a warmer air. Breakflisted at half-past eight. The noise of Arab tongues outside was both annoying and amusing. We were getting some new Arabs and camels, and the quarrelling arose at the adjustment of the load.s. It was long and most vociferous. I watched them from the roof and .saw them struggling, one with the’ other, about the loads for their camels, each one determined to take as little as possible, so that more camels might ])e needed. Tents, bed.s, baggage, &c. were tossed to and fro in raj)id disorder, sometimes on one camel’s back, sometimes on another; and our portmanteaus ran no small ri.sk of being torn to pieces, as two or three strong Bcdawecn rushed upon them, sack catching hold of a strap, or a handle, or a cover, xnd jjulling diverse ways, sought to secure the lightest
Cnpressiforo Eryinaiitho. — OkiW, F.jnsl. Cyllciics Cuprcasiforai. — ‘)vid. Fait.
t V.’iis it tho tuU cyi)ros3 plaiite<l bofliJo the tiprnlp that suggcstotl tho lender and graceful mirutrel which rises bcsitlo tho dome of every mosque ]
24<2 THE SUPERIOR.
load for his Own camel. Our dragoman had warned us of all this, and had prepared us for seeing swords and blood. Hard blows and high words, however, were all that we saw or heard. No blood was shed.
After an hour’s quarrelling they were ready to move. So we jjrepared to start at ten, and to leave, without regret, the convent behind us. The superior, with two or three of his monks, came to bid us farewell. We haxi not seen him before; but there was nothing venerable about him save his grey hairs. The monks paid him no respect or attention, such as his age, if not his office, entitled him to. He could hardly walk, and yet they did not rise from their seats to assist him, but allowed him to hobble along and nearly to fall in reachhig his seat. He came, not to give his blessing, as some tourists tell us, but to receive our gold with his own hands. We offered him three sovereigns, — but he held them up in his palm, and told us it was not enough! We told him that we meant to give no more, and bowing in eastern fashion to the group, we left our dragoman to settle with him, which he did by giving a dollar to each of the servants at his own cost. We had to pay dearly for the small amount of cleanliness and comfort which we had experienced. Of hospitality we found nothing. We had the use of two small rooms, had to furnish our own provisions, and were left to ourselves. That was all. Monastic life here is a poor shabby kind of thing; — all out at the elbows. Sir John Maundeville, who travelled and wrote in the fourteenth century, says,
DEPARTURE FROM SINAI. 2^3
“In thai aKbey no flies, toads, or lizards, or such foul venomous beasts, nor lice, nor fleas, ever enter, by the miracle of God and our lady; for there were wont to be so many of such pests that the monks were resolved to leave the place, and were gone thence to the mountain above, to eschew that ylace; but our lady came to them and bade them return, and since that time such vermin have never entered in and had j)lace among them, nor never shall enter hereafter.” Glad should we have been to find the miracle still in force; but three nights’ troubled experience told us that the sj)ellis broken and the miracle at an end; — for miracle most certainly it must have been, as every traveller in the east can testify.
As our camels paced along, we gazed up at the stupendous scene. Behind us there was the group of Sinaitic peaks, of which Jebel Miisa is the centre, and on the right, the adjoining mountains, shooting up almost perpendicidarly above us, of kindred colour and grandeur. The Cimbri, in ancient times, by way of amusement, are said to have slid down the snowy sides of their northern mountains, on their broad shields; but on what shield could either Cimbrian or Arabian have slid down mountains such as these?
Towards the left wa.s tlic level plain of Er-Rahah, — where the tents of Israel once stood, anil whose sands were once reddened with the double gleam of fire from the jtillar-cloud and fire from the blazing mount. We soon turned to the right, and entered Wady Sheikh, whose ridges shut out the rugged heights, at whose base wo had been sojourning. We felt no unwillingness to turn our back on these, and look our last on Sinai. For in truth that mountain is too awful, both in itself and in its memories, to attract. It fills the soul with awe, but does not win the heart, nor make us wish to tarry within sight, as if it were good to be there. It rciDcls, but does not invite 3 for like the law, of which it is the memorial, it speaks of death, not of life, of judgment, not of grace. Its echoes waft to us no glad tidings of the free love of God.
Wachj-esh- Sheikh is a long flat valley, about a quarter of a mile in breadth, winding northwards. When the “wilderness becomes a pool of water, and the dry land springs of water” (Isa. xli. 18), — this wady may overflow the yellow sands of Er-Rahah, forming a lake for the shadows of Sinai to rest upon, — on whose edge shall come up “the cedar, the shittah-tree, and the myrtle” (Isa. xli. 19), — or pouring down its waters through Wady Feiran and Wady Mukatteb, may form a river which will discharge its waters at Wady ]Iarkliah into the Red Sea. In this valley Israel would find ample room for their encampment. Of all the wadys we have seen, it seems the most suitable for a prolonged sojourn. The “goodly tents” of Israel could here spread themselves out without limit. On either side rise up ranges of the same barren mountains and scorched peaks, — some of them more isolated than hitherto, as if coming up out of the sand singly, not in clusters or ridges. The day was beautiful, and the heat would have been opi:)ressive had it not been for a cool breeze coming quietly along the valley. In how many ways did God refresh us in the desert! Sometimes it was the “shadow of a cloud that brought down the heat;” sometimes it was “the shadow of a great rock;” sometimes it was the foliage of the palm, or the tarfa, or the ritt’m; and sometimes it was the genial breeze.
In a little we came to a narrow defile, with high rocks on either side, bare and rugged as usual. Then the scene changed, and we came to some curious rows of sandy hillocks. Again the scene changed, and we found ourselves in a wood of tarfa-trees, of considerable extent. Then these disappeared, and the valley became bare and tamo. About three o’clock I dismounted, and enjoyed a pleasant walk. At five we encamped in the same spot from which we had started on Saturday morning. While the tents were pitching, and preparations for dinner making, I walked out alone to a short distance, enjoying the solitude and the sunset, — and rememberinic home-friends. The evening became rather cold. A damp mist, like that which the east wind brings up from the sea in Scotland, filled the air. Worship at ten. Went to bed at half-past ten. Heard the Arabs fifflltinf first with words, (hen with sticks and swords. This storm lasted about half” an hour. T found next morning that one of our men was cut severely in the cheek, and that my camel-driver was one of the worst.
for which I gave him as good a reproof as my ignorance of his language would admit. He persisted, however, in maintaining that he was tayih!
Wady-esh-Sheikk, Wednesday, Jan. 80. — Rose before seven. The moon and morning-star beautiful in the clear cold sky. The sky looked intensely clear and pure; and these two lights seemed the very symbols of brightness and purity. Yet, looking up to that pure desert firmament, the patriarch said, —
“He putteth no trust in his holy ones,
Yea, the heavens are not clean in his sight.” (Job xv. 15.)
Behold, even the moon,
Yea, it shineth not!
And the stars, — .
They are not clean in his eyeis! — (Job xxv. 5.)
Even that moon of brightness, up to which I am now looking, has no splendour in comparison with His! Even that fau- star,
Last in the train of night,
If better it belong not to the dawn,
had not purity when placed side by side with him 1 Yet still it is true —
“Holy, holj, holy, Jehovah Sabaoth, The fulness of the whole earth is his glort” — (Isa. vi. 3.)
For “God saw every thing that he had made, and be hold it was very good” (Gen. i. 31).
MONOTONY OF THE DESERT. 24?
Slowly the east began to take on its well-knoyn red, and the west its well-known purple of soft silk. The mighty range of mountain-peaks lay black against the brightening blue; till one after another they caught the yet unrisen light, and crowned with the gold of dayspring, they looked like the monarchs of the waste. Walked about for an hour in the cloudless twilicrht. The quiet freshness was as soothing as it was bracing. At home in such a case you look down upon the still life beneath or around you, and think that in an hour all that life will be stirring. Here it is not so. You may look from dawn to midnight from these hills, but no life stirs. Life is not here, nor sound save of the “wind, nor motion save of the tarfa-branch. Life is not asleep; it is aw anting. Yet this is not the place of death. Death is not here, and your feeling is not that of one gazing on church-yard stillness, where life is only in abeyance for a time. It is more akin to dreariness of spirit. You feel no link to the scene; you enjoy it for a time; but you are glad to quit it. The heart has no bond here either with the living or the dead; and, like Noah’s dove, finding no resting-place for the sole of its foot, it is glad to return to the homes of living men.
We started about half-past eight, — walking for a considerable way. In about half an hour clouds began to rise over the hills before us, till they covered the whole sky. Iv.iin fell in large drop.s. We betook ourselves to n jirojtctiiig rock as “a covert from storm and from rain”
248 AN ARAB GRAVEYimD.
(Isa. iv. 6). It was barely sufficient for shelter ;* but we were glad of it, as we were somewhat in advance of our party and had left both camels and coverings behind. The threatened rain however did not come. It proved but the skirts of a shower passing by us. On we went, with similar slight showers till noon, when the sky brightened into its usual clear and cloudless blue. About half an hour before this Ave had turned to the right, out of Wady Sheikh, and crossed a narrow defile over rocks like a Scottish glen, and then in about three quarters of an hour we came down upon a fine valley, where we had once more a full view of the ubiquitous mountain, which seemed to watch us at every step, — Serbal. Crossing this wady we went up a rocky road into Wady BeraJch or Berah, and suddenly came upon an Arab grave-yard, on the right*y- With its simple stones, unhewn and uncarved, amid these lonely hills, it spoke most touchingly to the heart, and seemed to throw over the scene a dreary melancholy. Above ground no life appeared, beneath there was what once was life. The want of life makes the desert at all times lonely; but the presence of death deepens the intensity of the lonehness. It seems lonely to live in such solitude, lonelier to die
* Job’s description was illustrated in our case, —
“They are wet with the sho ers of the mountains, And embrace the rock lor want of a shelter.” — (xxiv. 8.)
+ One might almost have supposed that in Berah we have a mere abbreviation of Taberah, Israel’s first station after leaving Sinai (Numb. xi. ?j Deut. ix. 22), were it not that the route of the Israelites would seem to have been more eastward than Wady Berah would admit of.
WADT BERAH. 2i9
there, — but loneliest of all to be buried in sticb a place! Who were lying there we knew not, — father, mother, wife, and husband, brother, sister, child, such we knew were there; and that was enough to make us feel an interest in the spot. How many generations were there we could not tell; they may go back to the days ot Moses, and the dust of the sons of Israel may be mingling there with the dust of the sons of Ishmael. It is curious that so many of these graveyards should be found in the centre of the desert, so few anywhere else. Up Wady Berah we pursued our way, in a westerly direction, for about an hour. This scene was bleak and monotonous, and continued so all the afternoon. Here, for the first time, we noticed some pink crocuses peering out of the sand. With their tiny leaf of dark green, and their slender flower, they formed a pleasant contrast to the usual desert-shrubs. In gathering some of their roots, we found them several inches deep in the sand. One species of them the Arabs eat greedily. Its name, I think, wasBeshaJch At their recommendation we tried them, and found them not unpleasant. We encamped about five in this wady. While dinner was i)reparing Mr Wright and I walked out, and turning to the left, soon found ourselves in a beautiful little basin, hemmed in by a low range of steep cliflfs, in which the strata were xuite perpendicular, — black and white layers alternately, like furrows, intersecting the ridge, and giving to it a singular ay)pearauce. It was more fruitful than its neighbours, and there were some
2”) ara:; gratitude.
flocks of white and black sheep feeding in it. As we were returning, our sheikh met us. On missing us from the encampment, he set out after us, not only to take care of us and prevent us losing our road, but also to bring us some of his best dates to eat by the way. The moist fruit stuck to his tawny hands, which were but seldom washed, and it was not quite’ agreeable to eat frait off such a platter. But inconveniences such as this we had often to submit to in our wanderings. As we came slowly back our sheikh told us that the name of the valley we had visited was Wady-El-Lajah, and pointed out to us Wady Geduram Selim. The night became showery, but we were safely housed.
An old Arab, belonging to this wady, brought us his little boy for medical advice. Mr Wright prescribed for him, to the father’s great joy. In the course of the evening the grateful Arab appeared with a beautiful black and white lambkin in his arms, as a present to his HaJcir)! or physician. We thanked him for the gift, but as we could not carry it with us, we declined it, with many thanks. Arabs are not ungrateful; and they 13rize kindnesses shewn to their children even more than to themselves.
Wady Berah, Thursday, Jan. 31. — On going out before seven I found that there had been rain in the course of the night; but the morning was fine, though chill. I noticed sometimes in the early dawn a few light clouds in the sky, which quickly passed away a? the sun rose. This, and the very rapid disappearance of the heavy dews which we after experienced, shewed us the truth of the prophet’s figure,
Your goodness is a morning-cloud,
And as the early dew
It goeth away. — (Hos. vi. 4.)
Walked out into a little wady on the east, and, seated among its silent rocks, read the 1 03d Psalm. We started for our day’s journey at half-yast eight. I cheered the way by reading some old Latin hymns, and turning them into EngUsh verse. Here is a specimen —
Alleluia, Alleluia 1
The battle now is done,
The victory is won;
Let us joy and sing
Alleluia!
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Sufi’uring dcatli’s cruel doom,
Jesus hath hell o’crcome;
Let us praise and shout
Alleluia!
Alleluia, Alleluia!
He rose the third day, bright
In heavenly love and light
Let us cry and chant
Alleluia!
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Closed arc the gates below,
Heaven’s balls are open now;
Let us joy and sing
Alleluia!
252 A TREE!
Alleluia, Alleluia!
Jesus, by thy wounds, save
Us from the endless grave,
That we may live and sing
Alleluia!
We soon got into a narrow stony glen, wtere, after walking for an hour, we sat down under a Seyaleli-tree. Its thorns were plentiful, but, as usual, it was leafless. AVe found the gum, for which it is famous, exuaing. It may seem strange that we should record the occurrence of a single tree. No traveller in Europe would think of such a thing. But in the east it is different, — especially in the desert. In lighting upon a tree or a well you seem to be meeting with a friend. It is an event which deserves record, for it is one which rivets you. at the moment, and fastens itself to your memory. In the treeless waste what a prize even the most stunted of the species seems! This is the place for teaching one to love trees. Nor is this love without its moral lesson and influence. It is going far to say, as some have done, “that none but a good man can truly love a tree, and none but a pure mind can remain open to that peculiar class of impressions which only the presence of a tree can make.” Yet still the man who is indifferent to a tree or a flower may be classed with the man who “has no music in his breast.”
One of our men, Selim Atih, outstripping the rest, came up to us. He soon made us to understand, br gestures and words, that he was about to leave us. He pointed in a particular direction over the chiefs, and intimated that he was about to proceed to his home. Yes, he had a home, and his face was now towards it. He had always been kind and obliging to us, so giving him a few piastres, we bade him good-bye. He was soon away among the rocks. For upwards of an hour the valley continued stony, then it became sandy. About one we reached the mouth of a wady which turned away to the right, Wady Kheimreigh; but we held straight on. About two we passed another graveyard, with one or two stone-inclosures, and some small upright stones. We saw one or two new gi’aves, with ritt’m planted upon them. Poor, yet expressive, memorial! It is all that an Arab can get. He has no myrtle, no rose, no cypress. But he has his greenleaved, white-flowering ritt’m, — the most graceful of all his desert-shrubs. And this is his remembrancer.
About three o’clock we came to Wady-el-Khumdeh, where, on the left, were a considerable number of “Mukatteb” inscrij)tions and figures on the sandstone. My camel-driver pointed in the direction of Surdbit-el-Khddem, and told me how many more were there, AVe were not very far from it, but still too far for us to visit it. A little way on we came to a recess among the rocks on the left, where was a pool of water, at which we stopped for half an hour to give our camels drink. “We sat down under a rock, a.s the day was hot, and watched thu scene, which was thoroughly an eastern one. The group of camels, — some with their long necks thrust down towards the water, others with their heads towering erect; then the group of men, more thirsty than their camels, drinking eagerly alongside of them, of the rather indifferent water, — all surrounded wdth a lofty wall of rugged rock, — formed quite a picture for an artist. We noticed tufts of grass growing here and there, brought up by the rain which had filled the pool. We watched the little insects creeping or hopping about in the sun, — living and dying here, with no eye to see them but God’s.
We again moved on and continued ascending till we came, about four, to Wady Ramleh, which, I suppose, gets its name from its vast plain of sand. The plain seemed to stretch away for miles, both eastward and westward, ^dth undulations and rocks here and there. The sand was for the most part fine and small in grain, though not so much so as in the region which stretches between Egypt and Palestine.* There was hardly a track or way-mark in this plain, only the cliffs of Et-Tih in the distance to guide us. It was quite “a wilderness where there is no way” (Job xii. 24). In traversing it, we were cheered by the discovery of a few more of the little lilac flowers, like autumn crocuses, coming up in the bare dry sand. It put us in mind oJ the “root out of the dry ground” (Isa. liii. 2). The Arabs sometimes called it “bulb.” We saw also a bulb of a larger land, its stalk shooting up like that of fox-
* “Per arenas moUissimas,” says Jerome, speaking of the approach to Eg-ypt from Palestine. — Epist. ad Bust, glove, and its flower like a cluster of antirrbiiuuii flowers tied together ou a spiudle. I could not pick up the Arab name, as our Bedaween happened to be merry, and gave me what I afterwards discovered to be a mere nickname.
In front of us rose the precipitous range of Et-Tih, apparently without a break, or ravine, or pass of any kind. Yet we arc told that we are to cross it to-morrow! We encamped on a slope of the plain at half-past five. The latter part of the day was cloudless, and the sunset fine. The sun went down, like a golden ball, behind the slope of yellow sand, the vast ampliitheatre of Et-Tih, with its white cliffs, lighted up by his radiance. The scene was a splendid one. I walked out along the sand to some distance before darkness came on, and enjoyed the cool breeze which was coming from the east. The only living thing around was a grey grasshopper in the .sand. As I watched its motions I felt that there was not entire desolation.
Wady Ramlch, Friday, Feb. 1. — We started to-day at half-past eight. The cliffs of Et-Tih seem close at hand, so off Mr Wright and I set, on foot, to scale Nakhh-cr-Raldneh, that is, the pa.ss of Er-Rahiiieh. But the clear dry air deceived us, and we found ourselves two or three miles from the range. The sands of Ilanili h were soon crossed, and we came upon a series of low un<lulations covered with small stones, beaten hard like a macadamised road. Up and down we went for two miles, outwalking the camels, till at last, losing
Bight of the track, we struck into the dry bed of a stream, with rocks of some height on either side. Thinking that this would soon end, and that when we emerged from the gully we should either regain our companions, or at least catch sight of them, we pushed on, climbing sometimes over and sometimes under the jagged boulders or overhanging precipices. It was hot, hard work, for hands, feet, and knees were all engaged in it, — but we thought it better to go on, as the cliffs were right above us, and we knew that somewhere or other there must be a road leading up their face. As one rock after another was surmounted, and one turn after another was accomplished, we counted on seeing some spacious exit or some guiding track. But still the mountaingully walled us in. We now saw that we were in a bad case, for we seemed to be turning away to the right and diverging from the track altogether. Had it been afternoon, we might have been alarmed at the prospect of being benighted, but it was morning, and so we resolved to j)rosecute our adventure to the end. We soon came to a place where the rocks of the gully give place to steep acclivities, which we discovered to be vast mounds formed out of the debris of the cliffs, and were composed of dried clay and gravel. Leaving, then, the bed of the torrent, we commenced the ascent of one of these. It was no easy task, as the friable soil gave way under our tread, and we slipped down more *Jian once. Having reached the top of one of these hillocks, we looked around but camels, companions, iiid Arabs were nowhere to be seen. AVe began to fear that we had widely diverged from the track. There was, however, no remedy but getting higher, for, from the nature of the ground, we could not fail to catch sight of our caravan somewhere before it climbed the 2liff and struck into the pass. Setting our faces once more to the ridge, we proceeded to scale another mound Df this friable clay which lay jDiled up in masses before LIS. On reaching it we found a deep hollow between us and the range, and saw, moreover, that the slope of the sliff was broken up into ravines and enormous excavations, like quarries. Uj) these we must climb, and by taking a narrow shelf or ledge overhanging one of these quarries, we thought that we should reach an eminence which seemed to command a view of the whole region below. But which is the way up? We could not tell, but we must try. Mr Wright took one route, and I mother. Up the steep face of another enormous mound I scrambled, sliding back at every step. Then there 2c’ime a low cliff, some ten or twelve feet, which mast be scaled. Selecting a recess in it where the rock is broken into steps, I ascended, and found a considerable level. But no caravan was in sight. My way now went up along the edge of a vast quarry, and was somewhat less steep.
As I was ascending slowly, two huge eagles or vultures came in sight. They then lighted down upon some straggling rocks about fifty yards olT, and kept eyeing mo. I sat down for a little and watched them.
I rose to go, and they also rose. Whether they counted me their prey or not, I cannot say, but they followed me, — flying in circles over my head, sometimes lower and sometimes higher, as if uncertain whether to venture on an attack or not. Afterwards I remembered Jeremiah’s words, when describing the spoiler preparing to pounce on Moab: —
•’ He shall fly as an eagle, He shall spread his wings over Moab.” — (Jer. xlviii. 40.)
I recommenced my ascent and they soon left me, doubtless to find their way to their nest, in some of those grey shaggy cliffs, of which this great mountain-wall of the desert is composed.
“Doth the eagle soar up at thy command,
And fix her nest on high?
On the rock she dwelleth and abideth,
On the peak of the rock and the strong place.
From that she spies out her prey,
Afar off her eyes behold it.” — (Job xxxix. 27-29.)*
Often since we entered the desert we had seen the skill of the vulture in picking clean the bones of his prey; for, several times in a day, did we come upon the skeletons of camels, which these birds had stripped of every vestige of flesh. We had no opportunity of testing
* See also Jer. xlix. 16, “Though thou shouldest make thy nest high as the eagles.” Deut. xxviii. 29, “Swift as the eagle flieth.” Being the great bird of the desert, how natural that God should speak of it as illustrating his care of Israel. Exod. xix. 4, “Ye have seen how I bare you on eagles’ wings.” Dent, xxsii. 11, “As an eagle stirreth up her nest, fluttereth over her young,” &c.
their power of sight or scent; but all travellers concur in testimony to their mysterious power of discovering their victim from aiar.
“Where the slain aic there is he.” — (Job xxxix. 30.) In the course of ten minutes, by means of scrambling and walking, I reached a pretty broad ledge or shelf of the cliff, where I discovered a camel’s track. I now saw far beneath me the camels toiling up the narrow mountain-path, and their drivers urging them on and watching their loads as they swayed from side to side. As soon as the Bedaween saw me they shouted, and seemed anxious to direct me. But I could not understand either their signs or their words. So I moved downward to meet them, thinking that they were turning away westward and were beckoning on me to follow. A few minutes more shewed me that I was wrong, for I saw the camels taking a turn which seemed to bring them up to the very ledge on which I was standing. I heard also the dragoman’s voice calling on me to stop. I was now sure that they were advancing towards me, so, oppressed with the heat of noon, I lay down under “the shadow of a great rock.” Having rested for about ten minutes, I rose and pursued the track, and, after a little more sliding and scrambling, found myself on the very top of the cliff, about half-jDast twelve. There I found Mr Wright, who, after he separated from me, had ]iur-Bued another path, and, after surmounting similar ditHculties, had readied the summit a few minutes before me. Mr Beddome wag beside him, and one of our
Arabs, who had guided him up by a better path than we had discovered. We were hot and tired; so we lay down upon the stones and rested. The view from the summit was splendid. To the left there was the remaining part of the segment of the mighty cliff stretchinar eastward for miles. Then came the Sinaitic range to the south or south-east, lofty, dark, and ragged. Right in front rose the prince of the desert, Serbal, and adjoining it, to the south-east, the smaller ranges along whose bases we had passed the week before. Then the Red Sea, — blue as the heaven which bent over it, and as calm, vnth. Ras Atakah beyond, looking stedfastly down on that spot, where Israel found deliverance, and Pharaoh a grave. Just before me, though far beneath, stretched the sandy plain of Ramleh, some ten or twelve miles in length, and perhaps half that in breadth.
In a quarter of an hour our camels joined us, and after they had rested for a short time, we all set out on our descent on the other side of Et-Tlh, which proved quite as gradual as the face of the cliff had been abrupt. We went slowly downwards over rough, rocky roads, till about four o’clock, when we halted. This was too short a journey, but we could not get our Arabs to move farther. We remonstrated with our dragoman, but his answer was, “Men and camels are weary.” This might be one reason, but the main one was that water was at hand in an adjoining hollow. To this we hastened down, and found several pools containing a considerable quantity of water, with palms and tarfas on the margin, i
ZODIACAL LIGHT. 2G1
and some wild flowers under the shade of a rock. This was Wady Untor/hah, which I find in no maps, nor mentioned by any traveller. Indeed, our route was not the usual one. Most travellers cross Et-Tih by Nakhhd-Mureikhi.
Our place of encampment was very stony, but the afternoon was fine, and the night cloudless and starry. We fretted a little at our short day’s march, — but we made the best of it, by saying nothing more about it, after the first remonstrance.
We had frequent opportunities of observing the “zodiacal light,” both in this place and others. During the absence of the moon it was visible almost every night, beginning about an hour aiier sunset and continuing for several hours. Resting its narrow base on the western horizon, it shot up, often nearly to the zenith, in a luminous triangle, very much elongated of course. Its track was quite distinct in the heavens, marked by a pale thin lustre, inferior in brightness to the streaks of the aurora borealis, yet steadily visible from its base upward to its very apex. We did not observe the flicker or sparkle in any part., of which Humboldt speaks. The whole of this great cone was of a faint yet fixed whiteness in every part. It was a tall pyramid of pure and tranquil light, that scorned sometimes as if it rose out of the sands, and sometimes as if it were suspended from the Pleiades, and sometimes like a rent in the blue arch, through which the light of a milder and more mellow sun beyond was finding its way down to earth, duriuf’ the absence of its own.