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 FORTY DAYS 
 
 IN THE DESER T, 
 
 €'tir C'nirk iif tlje l^rnrlitrs ; 
 
 A JOURNEY FROM CAIRO. 
 
 BY WADY FEIRAN, TO MOUNT SINAI AND 
 
 PETRA. 
 
 %]\ tlir Sntjinr of 
 
 "WALKS ABOUT JERUSALEM." 
 
 ^ 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 LONDON: 
 ARTHUR IIAT.L ct CO., 2r,, PATERNOSTER ROW.
 
 LONDON : 
 JOSEPH niCKERBV, PRINTEH, 
 
 suerboi;rn lane.
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 I— Cairo and the Valley of the Nile, frontispiece 
 
 2 — Approach to Petha from Mount Hor, title-page 
 
 3--Camels at Starting . 
 
 4 — Map of Arabia Petiu£a 
 
 6 — Ayln Musa 
 
 6-— AiN HOWARAH (Mahah) 
 
 7— WaDY GllLRUNDEL (ElIm) . 
 
 8— Rock of Moses 
 
 9— Oasis in Wady Useit 
 10— Line of Coast . 
 11— TheQlail 
 
 12 — Tablets in Wady Maghara 
 13 — Tablets in Ditto 
 
 H — Sinaitic Whitings in Wady Mukatteb 
 15— Encampment in Wady Feikan 
 16 — Ruined Chapels IN Ditto . 
 17 — The Serbai. and City of Feiran 
 18— Map of Wady Feihan 
 19 — Water of Ai.eyat 
 20— Sinaitic Writing on the Summit ok the ^'EBBAL 
 21 — The Beden 
 
 22 — Dates .... 
 23 — Plain ErRaiiah, Mount Sinai 
 24— Convent OF St. Catherine . 
 2o — The Refectory 
 26— ElAin .... 
 27 — Castle of Kureiyeh 
 28 — Encamp.ment at Akabah 
 29 — Portrait OF Maganiie.m 
 38 — Mount Hor 
 31 — View fro.m Mount Hor 
 32 — Vaults on Ditto 
 33 — Map and Bird's-eye View oi Petk 
 34~The Triumphal Arch 
 35 — The Ravine 
 36— TheKhusne . 
 37— The Theatre . 
 
 38 — General View of the Interior of the City 
 39— Principal Range of Tomes 
 40— El Deir 
 41 — Night Scene . 
 4"2— Squall in the Desetii 
 43— The Caravan . 
 41 — The Pyramids 
 4o — Section of DnT« 
 
 ir, 
 
 30 
 39 
 40 
 
 1". 
 
 ii; 
 17 
 
 0/ 
 
 62 
 
 63 
 
 66 
 
 70 
 
 73 
 
 81 
 
 84 
 
 97 
 
 99 
 
 100 
 
 lOS 
 
 110 
 
 121 
 
 123 
 
 123 
 
 128 
 
 129 
 
 130 
 
 131 
 
 132 
 
 134 
 
 136 
 
 139 
 
 147 
 
 152 
 
 193 
 
 200
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 He who has drank of the Nile water, it is said, is always restless till 
 he has tasted it af^ain ; and this may be taken as a figure of the strange 
 lonirino: which at times torments an old oriental traveller, to seek 
 for fresh adventures among lands through which he often wandered 
 at the time in peril and privation ; for now these drawbacks are either 
 wholly forgotten, or, by the alchemy of memory, are converted into 
 sources of even pleasurable recollection. The East must ever be the 
 land of the imagination, being as it is the scat of early fable and 
 history, the birth-place of art, science, and poetry ; the cradle of our 
 religion ; and there also, to add to its interest, still survive unchanged, 
 after the lapse of ages, manners, feelings, and usages, such as are de- 
 scribed in our very earliest records. What a halo seems to hang over the 
 shores of the Mediterranean ! such as invests no other place on earth. 
 The empires, whose revolutions fill the stirring page of history, from 
 its dawning light down to modern times, are all around : some, as Tyre 
 and Carthage, having indeed utterly perished ; but others, like Egypt, 
 leaving behind a glorious legacy of monumental records. "Where 
 can we wander in this beautiful sea without being reminded of the 
 great and good of past ages ?— our footsteps are ever in tlie track of 
 sages and poets, of prophets and apostles, or of Ilim who is greater 
 than all. Who is there but has longed to witness these hallowed 
 scenes as he has no other ?— and if fortune has denied this wish, turns 
 not with peculiar interest to the endless books of tourists, which may 
 afford him, each in its own way, some phase of that Eastern world, 
 some figure or impression of its climate or scenery, or of the mode
 
 iv PREFACE. 
 
 of travel ? It is strong imagination, indeed, wliitli fills up the poor 
 verbal pictures of travellers, and gives them a cliariii which otherwise 
 they could not possess. And wliat a little world of troasurcd nicniu- 
 ries has one who has visited the East! he sees again his caravan, all 
 wild and gay, clambering the mountain side, remembers his siesta by the 
 way- side fountain, or that indescribable moment when some splendid 
 city, with all its histories, rose suddenly upon his visio — he wanders 
 again among its strange, bright crowds ; or calls to mind when he 
 stood on the summit of some hoary poetic mountain, looking over 
 half a world of plains and valleys, memorable in ancient story, or 
 reclines again in the shade of the fallen columns of some ruined 
 temple, in the midst of his wild conductors. Circumstances favoured 
 the wish of the writer to pay a fourth, and, in all probability, a fare- 
 well visit to the East; and to add to recollections of Jerusalem and 
 Palestine, those also of the earliest ground hallowed by biblical history 
 — the Desert " of the wandering," as it is called to this day, with ail 
 its localities preserved intact. This journey he w^as enabled to accom- 
 plish ; and can only regret his inability adequately to convey the 
 indelible impressions which it has left behind. The special objects 
 wljich may, perhaps, excuse the addition of the present volume on the 
 subject to the multitude which have already appeared are — the desire 
 to give somewhat more of distinctness to the route of the Israelites than 
 is to be found in the work of Laborde ; to depict, though but imper- 
 fectly, the valley of Fciran, and the neighbouring mountain of the 
 Serbal, not only the most romantic spot in the Arabian peninsula, but 
 confidently pronounced by no less a sarant tlian Dr. Lepsius to be 
 tlie real Sinai ; as also to give a picture of Petra, tliat extraordinary 
 rock-hewn capital of Edom, which, by its singular wildncss, even yet 
 seems, beyond any other place, to thrill the imagination, and waken 
 the love of adventure.
 
 FORTY DAYS 
 
 IN 
 
 THE DESERT. 
 
 The preparations needful for a journey of some weeks into the 
 wilderness, involve, as the reader may suppose, some little trouble ; 
 and no one who has ever been at Cairo, but has probably had reason 
 
 gratefuUy to acknowledge the kindness and foresight of the L s, 
 
 to which I myself was peculiarly indebted. The first and most im- 
 portant point, upon which everything depends on such occasions, is 
 to find a good servant. I was fortunate enough to obtain the 
 services of Komeh, or Hadji Komeh, as the Arabs loved to call him, 
 (for he had performed the pilgrimage to Mecca,) who had accompanied 
 Dr. Robinson on his journey, and of whom honourable mention has 
 been made by him, as well as his coadjutor Ibrahim, then a lad, but 
 now grown up into a powerful young man. Stephens says that his 
 servant was the greatest coward the sun ever shone upon — Komeh 
 was the most intrepid fellow that ever took an Arab by the beard. 
 He was a man about forty, and a native of Cairo, short, stout, and 
 powerful ; with a broad round back, and sturdy legs bowed out- 
 wards ; one who seemed to take " well hould of the ground," and 
 appeared to be built for robust exertion, a quality of no small value 
 in the Desert. He looked more like a Yorkshireman in disguise, 
 than a sallow Caireen ; having a bluff, ruddy, and fearless face, 
 honest and almost simple in its general expression, but \\ith an oc- 
 casional roll of the eye that showed he was not one to be "done" 
 with impunity. Admirable was his tact at managing the Bedouins, 
 who at once loved and feared him. These gentry often occasion, by 
 
 B
 
 2 PREPARATIONS, ETC. 
 
 their craft and obstinacy, no little annoyance to the traveller ; and 
 woe be to him if his servant proves craven in the hour of need ! 
 On such occasions, often have I seen my courageous follower opposed 
 to many times his number, but in himself a host, and though 
 unarmed, possessing in the chest of a buflfalo, and a pair of huge and 
 brawny fists, 
 
 " what seemed both spear and shield," — 
 
 dash down his pipe upon the sand, and menace the delinquents ; 
 (nor did he always confine himself to mere threats ;) till pacified 
 by their submissive appeals, he would resume it, subside, under 
 the blessed influence of half-a-dozen whiffs, into his habitual state 
 of placability, and presently be seated in the midst of the Arabs 
 like a little king. Such a man was invaluable : I could have 
 trusted him with my goods and life ; and his continual good-humour 
 to myself, among all the difiiculties of the Desert, was indeed a con- 
 tinual feast. In fact, he lacked but one thing, and that was the 
 gift of tongues, speaking only Arabic, besides a few words of 
 broken English and Italian, which, combined in different ways, and 
 eked out with signs and gesticulations, served as the sole basis 
 of our intercourse with each other, and, what was worse, with the 
 Arabs. 
 
 Mrs. L. had bespoke for me a tent, which was pitched that I 
 might see it : a superb and very commodious affair, ornamented with 
 colours and devices fit for a pasha, and far better than I shoiild 
 have thouffht of ; but it was not in human nature to refuse so smart 
 a thing when once up ; besides that, the price was moderate, I think, 
 three hundred piastres. I afterwards found the comfort of it, and 
 frequently rejoiced that I had not chosen an inferior one. It is 
 true that one may do without tent or bedding in the Desert ; but it 
 is hard work : you have no shelter either from heat, cold, rain, 
 or sand-storms ; no privacy, of course, or sense of comfort, to say 
 nothing of consideration in the eyes of the Arabs. A second and 
 smaller tent was lent to us by Mr. L., for the servants ; but they 
 rarely took the trouble of pitcliing it.
 
 PROVISIONS, ETC. 3 
 
 To provision ourselves was the next point ; and as I was desirous 
 of hitting, if possible, the juste milieu between starvation and prodi- 
 gality, we repaired to the shop of old Carlo Peni, near the consulate, 
 and there, in conclave, decided on the following articles, the quantity 
 of which served well for the entire tour to Petra, though of six 
 weeks' duration, and, in reality, calculated at the time as for a far 
 shorter period. I give the list, hoping it may save some trou])le to 
 future travellers, and amuse the general reader with a picture of 
 Desert housekeeping. 
 
 September 27. — 
 
 Ptattrei. 
 
 2 oka-s Lump Sugar, at 6 piastres (100 piastres equal £1. sterling) . 12 
 
 40 „ Biscuits, (instead of bread,) at 2 piastres . . . ,80 
 
 4 „ Soap, (none in the Desert, nor washerwomen,) at 7 piastres . 28 
 
 10 „ Rice, at 3 piastres .... ... 30 
 
 20 rotl., each 2lbs., Coffee. (A very large supply is needful, as nothing 
 
 is done without it,) at 3 piastres ...... 60 
 
 3 okas Tobacco, at 15 piastres ....... 45 
 
 1 bag for ditto .......... 5 
 
 Onions, (very desirable for stewing) ...... 10 
 
 Lentiles, (for soup, similar to peas) . . . . .12 
 
 Charcoal. (A small quantity is needful for occasional use, when no 
 
 brush- wood can be had) . . . . . . . .10 
 
 12 okas Potatoes, (invaluable) 18 
 
 Dates 10 
 
 3 okas Dried Apricots, (delicious and refreshing when stewed) . 18 
 
 2 packets Wax Candles 20 
 
 An Arab Paper Lantern for ditto 5 
 
 12 okas Chocolate 24 
 
 1 „ Salt •* 
 
 1 box Pepper .......... 4 
 
 3 bottles Cognac, (more desirable than wine or beer, on accoimt of 
 
 the bad water, but must be temperately used) . . . .42 
 
 1 Cantine, with lock, (a box of palm-sticks, made expressly for 
 
 carrying various small necessary articles) .... .25 
 
 6 okas Liquid Cooking-Butter and Pot 38 
 
 Matches C 
 
 8 Nets for the camels, complete, (to sling small packages in) . . 50 
 
 3 Water-Skins, complete, (Much care is requisite to get them, not 
 new, but sufficiently se;\-soned not to flavour the water, and they 
 never should be laid on the sand, but on the nets. A filter is 
 highly desirable) ......••• "0
 
 4 PROVISIONS, ETC. 
 
 Piucm. 
 2 Zcmzcmie, or leatheru Drinking- lk)ttle8 . . . .30 
 
 1 Large Cooking- Pot 5 
 
 Cords, Thread, Needles, &c., (A few e.\tra pegs too, for tlie tent, are 
 
 very necessary, of iron if possible) , . . . . . IG 
 
 2 common Pipes, (for Arabs ;) Umbrella of double Cotton ; double 
 
 Straw, or light Hat, well lined 10 
 
 12 Fowls, Cafass, (or coop,) and Corn. (We did not find any of them 
 
 die, as often reported ; but they require care.) . . . .25 
 
 3 Camp Stools, (broad and low — very useful ) CO 
 
 Some pieces of Oilcloth to spread under, or put over the tent, in case of 
 
 rain, when on the march. 
 Tea. 
 
 Curry-Powder, (desirable for seasoning a tough fowl occasionally.) 
 Marmalade, (very refreshing and easily carried.) 
 Lemons, (a good supply.) 
 
 Eau de Cologne which should be put in a stone bottle. 
 All these arranged in the cafasses, or in loose bags. 
 
 To these might be added, as luxuries, preserved meats, portable 
 soups, vrine, beer, &c. a discretion, any considerable quantity of 
 course requiring an extra camel. Carpet, mattress, sheets, he, all 
 these may be obtained at Cairo, and cooking utensils, &c. A sup- 
 ply of fresh provisions, to last a few days : fowls and eggs may 
 occasionally be met with, as at Suez and Akaba ; and a sheep or kid 
 procured from the Arabs of the Desert : milk rarely, except in the 
 rainy season : dates occasionally. The traveller has nothing to do 
 with provisioning his Arabs, unless by special agreement ; though 
 not unfrequently they seek to establish a claim ; and, in fact, from 
 habitual want of calculation, their stores are often run out, so that a 
 small supply of rice and biscuits must now and then be given them ; 
 but care and foresight are needful, without which the traveller, 
 on whom privation tells far more seriously than on his guides, may 
 find himself destitute, without any means of replenishing his stock. 
 
 There is now no lack of Bedouins in Cairo since the establishment 
 of the overland mail ; we soon found an Arab, with whom a con- 
 tract was made at the consulate.* 
 
 • I do not give its details, further than to state that the price stipulated 
 was far too high, and the whole money was to be paid in advance. This I, at
 
 DEPARTURE FROM CAIRO. 5 
 
 I took no arms in addition to an old pair of Turkish pistols ; nor 
 were others necessary, although a good double-barrelled English one, 
 of which the Orientals stand much in awe, might be a valuable 
 companion on a solitary ramble away from the track. As to dress, 
 it is decidedly better, both for comfort and safety, to travel in 
 a light European costume, the English name being sufficient protec- 
 tion. A few articles, such as a handsome tarboosh, sash, &c., may 
 occasionally be useful as an addition to ordinary equipment, when it 
 is desirable to make an impression ; and a clean shirt is not without 
 its moral effect even in the wilderness, and among people whose 
 linen looks as if it had come down unwashed from the days of 
 Ishmael. A few articles of Eastern finery may also occasionally be 
 useful as presents. 
 
 At length, ever}thing being ready, the camels blockading the 
 door, and the usual clamour of the Arabs filling the street, I left 
 the hotel to pay one or two farewell visits, and joined my little 
 caravan in the cemetery outside the Bab-en-Nusr, or Gate of Vic- 
 tory, where the splendid domes of the tombs of the Memlook sultans 
 — the perfection of Arabian architecture — rise like an exhalation 
 from the lonely waste. By unusually good management the camels, 
 often reloaded here, were already provided with their respective 
 burdens, and I had nothing to do but to start. It was so much 
 earlier than I had expected to be ready, that no one was found 
 to give me a parting convoy ; and I stood in the dead, oppressive 
 heat of noon, alone on the verge of the Desert. The hot film 
 trembled over the far-stretched and apparently boundless sands ; and 
 
 first, consented to, because informed at the consulate that such was the usual 
 practice ; but it is quite clear that if so the practice should be done away with 
 — indeed I did not fulfil it myself. The Arabs can have no occasion for such 
 a sum, and it is the height of folly so to leave oneself at their mercy. It 
 is obviously the traveller who requires every power that can be given him to 
 overawe liis often refractory guides ; for otherwise they may not only harass 
 him with petty opposition, but actually prevent his visits to many spots of 
 interest. I fixed the number of camels at five, which is the utmost a traveller 
 with one servant can ever require ; indeed, with management, four may well 
 suflice, and si.\ for a party of two.
 
 CAMEL-RIDING. 
 
 though I had looked forward with delight to the time of setting off, 
 the journey now for the first time seemed formidcable ; and with not 
 even a friendly shake of the hand, or a parting God-b'w'ye— within 
 a stone's throw too of the grave of poor Burekhardt, I could not 
 repress a feeling of melancholy. But the Arabs cut this short, by sud- 
 denly leaping up out of the shade of a ruined tomb, and mechanically 
 brinLTin"- fonsard my dromedary, over whose wooden packsaddle, 
 mattress, carj)et, and saddlebags were spread, so as to make a broad 
 and comfortable seat ; the growling animal was forced upon its knees ; 
 and leaping on, and holding firm by the pegs of the saddle as he sud- 
 denly rose up on his hind legs, I achieved (more fortunate than some 
 others) my first ascent without pitching head foremost upon the sands, 
 which I accounted a good omen : the others were ready, and we 
 paced ofi" on our noiseless track over the broad expanse, as a vessel 
 spreads its sail and slips quietly out to sea ; while the minarets of 
 Cairo grew fainter and fainter, till we lost them in the red and 
 dusky haze of an Egyptian atmosphere. 
 
 A singular and half-dreamy sensation is that of first riding a 
 camel, the very opposite to that quickening of the pulse which comes 
 to us on horseback. Your seat, on a broad pile of carpets, is so 
 easy and indolent, the pace of the animal so equal and quiet, — in- 
 stead of the noisy clatter of hoofs, you scarcely hear the measured and 
 monotonous impress of the broad soft foot on the yielding sand, — 
 the air fans you so lazily as you move along ; from your lofty post your 
 view over the Desert is so widely extended, the quiet is so intense, 
 that you fall by degrees into a state of pleasurable reverie, mingling 
 early ideas of the East with their almost fanciful realization. And 
 thus the hours pass away till a sense of physical uneasiness begins to 
 predominate, and at length becomes absorbing. It now appears that 
 the chief and only art in camel-riding lies in the nice poising and 
 manaf^ement of the vertebral column, which seems to refuse its 
 office, though you sustain its failing functions by a desperate tighten- 
 ing of your belt. To sit quite upright for a length of time is difficult 
 on account of your extended legs : you throw your weight alternately 
 to the right or left, lean dangerously forward on the pummel, sit side-
 
 CAIRO TO SUEZ. 7 
 
 ways, or lounge desperately backwards, all in vain. The beau sexe 
 have, for obvious reasons, decidedly the best of it in this exercise. 
 To lose your sense of weariness you seek to urge the animal to a 
 trot ; but a few such experiments suffice, fatigue is better than 
 downright dislocation, and you resign yourself perforce to the horrible 
 see-saw and provoking tranquillity of your weary pace, till the sun's 
 decline enables you to descend and walk over the shining gravel. 
 With this it will be plain that no one makes his first day's journey 
 in the Desert a long one, and we joyfully encamped for the night in a 
 Wady, '^ a little beyond the first stationt of the Transit Company. 
 
 October 1. Before sunrise the tent was struck, the camels loaded, 
 and we were on our way. The Desert between Cairo and Suez is so 
 much relieved of its loneliness and peril by the establishment of the 
 overland route, with its numerous stations, that, as yet, one feels 
 within the reach and influence of civilization. The surface of the 
 waste is, .for the whole way, nearly level, or slightly undulating ; the 
 soil, firm gravel, with occasional sand : the marks of wheels are 
 curiously intermingled with the numerous camel-tracks formed by 
 the caravans, and the half-eaten carcase of the old carrier of the 
 Desert is seen side by side with a broken-down modern omnibus ; one 
 station is hardly passed before another comes in sight, and thus the 
 Desert seems cheated of its wildness ; yet we found this portion of our 
 route emphatically the most wearisome. For the whole way there is 
 no object of the slightest interest. The stations, ghttering afar off 
 in the clear atmosphere, seem nearer than they are, and provokingly 
 recede at our approach. We halted this evening near the central 
 station, in sight of the one tree which marks the half-way point be- 
 tween Cairo and Suez. 
 
 October 2. Off" again before sunrise. I am now beginning to get 
 into Desert life, and, at the outset at least, relish it very much as a 
 novelty, and as realizing the wish I had so often formed to be abroad 
 in the wilderness. Very early in the cool of the morning, ere yet the 
 
 * Wady signifies valley, or a watercourse. 
 
 t These occur at about every ten miles, the central one being furnished as 
 a temporary hotel, with tanks of water, formed at a great expense.
 
 8 
 
 THE DESERT — MOENINQ. 
 
 paling stars have faded from the heavens, Komeh is stirring, a fire 
 kindled, cofifee made, the Arabs on the alert, the straggling 
 camels called in ; and, while hastily washing, the tent is struck and 
 roUed up ; and our temporary settlement, so snug the night before, 
 is all taking to itself wings, and leaving no trace but the marks of 
 boxes, and other chattels, impressions of tent -poles, and the ashes of 
 our vanished hearth, which the next wind wiU efface. 
 
 The camels growl, struggle, and show their teeth as they are 
 
 forced to kneel and receive their loads, then one by one jump up 
 and assume that monotonous pace and placid expression, which 
 they never vary through the long and weary day, unless again 
 forced to kneel down. The sun is not yet up, though there is a 
 glorious radiance through the vast opal concave of the sky ; and 
 it is for some time delightful to walk over the fine shining gravel- 
 surface of the silent Desert; my cheerful Komeh by my side, with his 
 pipe, and the Arabs in straggling groups coming up slowly behind. 
 What most surprised me was the elasticity of spirits I generally 
 experienced in the wilderness. The dry pure air probably had much 
 to do with this. Sometimes the sense of free movement over the 
 boundless expanse was indescribably and wildly ecstatic ; in general 
 the incidents of our little caravan seemed sufiicient stimulus, and a 
 universal cheerfulness prevailed among us in those hours of dawn.
 
 NOON — THE MIRAGE. 3 
 
 But as the sun rose higher and higher into the cloudless sky, and 
 the blanched surface of the Desert glared under his fiery beams, and 
 the reflection from the glittering and heated waste dazzled the eye 
 and seemed to pierce to the very brain, it was another matter. The 
 camels now groan ^vith distress ; the Arabs are silent, slipping from 
 time to time along-side the water-skins, and, with their mouths to 
 the orifice, catching a few gulps without stopping ; then, burying 
 their heads in the ample bernous, pace on again quietly — hour 
 after hour. The water, which smacks of the leathern bottle, or 
 Zemzemia, in which it is contained, warm, insipid, and even nause- 
 ous, seems but to increase the parching thirst ; the brain is clouded 
 and paralysed by the intolerable sultriness ; and, with the eyes pro- 
 tected by a handkerchief from the reflected glare of the sand, and 
 swaying listlessly to and fro, I keep at the same horrible pace along 
 the burning track. 
 
 " All-conquering heat, O intermit thy wrath ! 
 And on my throbbing temples potent thus 
 Beam not so fierce ! Incessant still you flow, 
 And still another fervent flood succeeds, 
 Poured on the head profuse. In vain I sigh, 
 And restless turn, and look around for night : 
 Night is far off ; and hotter hours approach !" 
 
 One would think that Thomson had penned these lines on the 
 back of a camel in the Desert. The hot film, like the low of a 
 kiln, now trembles over the glistening sands, and plays the most fan- 
 tastic tricks with the suffering traveller, cheating his vision with an 
 illusory supply of what his senses madly crave. Half-dozing, half- 
 dreaming, as I advanced, lulled into vague reverie, the startling 
 MIRAGE, shifting with magic play, expands in gleaming blue lakes, 
 whose cool borders are adorned with waving groves, and on whose 
 shining banks the mimic waves, with wonderfril iUusion, break in 
 long glittering lines of transparent water — bright, fresh water, so 
 difierent from the leathery decoction of the Zemzemia. On our ap- 
 proach the vision recedes, dissolves, combines again into new forms, 
 all fancifully beautiful ; then slowly fades, and leaves but the bum-
 
 10 EVENING THE ENCAMPMENT. 
 
 ing horizon, upon which, at wide intervals, is seen, perhaps, a dim 
 black speck, appearing over the rolling sandy swell like a ship far out 
 at sea ; the film of the Desert gives it gigantic dimensions as it ap- 
 proaches: it proves, as it nears us, to be a caravan of camels from Suez, 
 coming along with noiseless tread, — a few laconic words are exchanged 
 between the Arabs mthout stopping ; in another hour it is left far be- 
 hind, until again it disappears from vision. Thus pass the sultry and 
 silent hours of noon. There is a terrible and triumphant power of 
 the sun upon this wide region of sterility and death, like that of a 
 despot over a realm blighted by his destructive sway : no trace of 
 verdure is there but the stunted shrub, wliich straggles at wide in- 
 tervals about the sandy bed of some dried watercourse ; no sign of 
 living thing but tlie burrow of the rat, the slimy trail of the serpent, 
 or the carcase of the camel, who makes his grave as well as his home 
 in the wilderness, met with in every stage of decay, from the 
 moment when the vultures have but just fleshed their beaks in his 
 fallen corpse, till, stripped of every integument, the wind whistles 
 through the ghastly framework of his naked ribs, and his bones, 
 falling asunder and bleached by heat and wind, serve to mark the 
 appointed track upon which his strength was spent. 
 
 As the declining orb wheels round to the westward the shadows 
 lengthen from the camel — the timepiece as well as the ship of the 
 Desert. Now all descend and walk, enjoying the growing coolness, and 
 looking forward with delight to the signal to encamp. The Arabs, 
 as the sun's disc nearly touches the horizon, look out for the best 
 halting-place, where the surface is hard and the tent-pins will easily 
 hold, and where there is promise of a little scanty browsing for 
 the camels. All is now activity ; and, throwing myself at length on 
 a cushion of sand beneath a solitary retem-bush, I watch the lonely 
 descent of the sun below the sandy waste and the rapid establish- 
 ment of my temporary home. The surface of the desert reflects the 
 splendour of the ruddy orb, like the molten surface of a heaving 
 sea. The camels, unloaded, are soon scattered about among the 
 brushwood ; or, if that is too scanty, lie down and arc fed with a 
 small bag of beans, which it is a pleasure to hear them crunch. Up
 
 NIGHT IN THE DESERT. 11 
 
 flies the tent, the strongest Arab holding by the centre pole, while 
 Komeh and the others vigorously drive in the pegs and fasten round 
 the curtains, — the work of a few minutes. Mats and carpets cover 
 the fine sand within, mattress and pillow are spread out, camp-stools 
 are arranged round, saddle-bags fill up the background, the lantern 
 is strung from the centre pole, and there is a completeness and com- 
 fort, nay, luxury, about your little home, which is wanting in many 
 a pompous hotel in France or Italy. Fresh ablutions restore you ; 
 and before this, Komeh is already busy in his culinary operations ; for 
 one of the Arabs has brought in a pile of sticks, while some are 
 eno-aged in arranging the packsaddles and gear beyond, and the 
 rest in making their evening cake. 
 
 With the twilight falls the grateful dew, and comes on the refresh- 
 ino- breeze, cooling the heated surface of the wilderness, and restor- 
 ino- the lanonid frame of the traveller. Wander but a few paces 
 from the encampment, and listen in the profound of the solitude to 
 the low and melancholy sugh of the night wind, which sweeps the 
 light surface of the sand, and drifts it against the canvass wall of 
 the tent ; that breeze, laden with the voice of ages, which traverser 
 the old historic desert, and has waved the long grass and stirred the 
 slumbering waters of the ancient fountains where the patriarchs en- 
 camped with their flocks. There is a rapture in pacing alone with 
 such fancies among the drifted sand-heaps, and listening to that 
 wild music, till night has fallen upon the wilderness, over which mil- 
 lions of stars, rising up resplendently from the very edge of the vast 
 horizon, seem quietly brooding. One may hear, as it were, the solemn 
 pulsation of the universe. No wonder that of old the shepherds of 
 the Desert were star-worshippers ; to the uninstructed spiritual im- 
 pulse, ignorant of the unity of the Great Cause, the glorious bright- 
 ness of these radiant orbs must have appeared supernatural ; for there 
 are here no works of man to distract the absorbing contemplation of 
 the heavens in their glory ; that little patch of earth from which 
 alone lights gleam and a few broken sounds arise, that temporary 
 halting-place, to be given back on the morrow to the mighty waste, 
 seems but to render more awftd the countlessness of these revolving
 
 12 SUPPER, ETC. 
 
 worlds, receding from the nearest planets, bright as angels, into the 
 dim nebulae of furthest space. 
 
 " Then stirs the feeling infinite, so ffelt 
 In solitude, when we are least alone." 
 
 I shall not, however, dwell on the solemnity of such moments. 
 Man, although his thoughts may roll through space itself, must, how- 
 ever humbling the reflection, ultimately " drop into himself," and 
 dine, with a relish too, after a ten hours' ride, as keen and absorbing 
 as that of the unwieldy brutes around him, that, crunching the 
 prickly shrubs, gaze prone and stupid on the sand. 
 
 Walking back to the tent, I catch sight of preparations grateful 
 to a hungry stomach, for the chief meal in the Desert is taken in the 
 evening, and its announcement is looked for with the most intense 
 interest. On entering I find the transparent lamp lighted, and 
 casting a cheerful glow upon the red curtains of the tent ; my port- 
 manteau and camp-stool arranged as a table, with (at starting) 
 a clean tablecloth ; for there is as little occasion to sup ofi" yota' 
 " dirty towel," as to confine yourself to the one shirt of Laborde.* My 
 chief standing dish was that, the memory of which haunted Stephens 
 with \dsions of departed joys — to wit, an Irish stew ; and I would 
 defy the most fastidious gourmand, were he here, to refrain fi-om 
 falling upon it with eager relish. It is, indeed, the very dish for 
 the Desert. Another common plat, in addition to an occasional 
 roast lamb or kid, was curried rice and fowl, with lentile soup, the 
 pottage of Esau ; followed by stewed apricots, or marmalade, with 
 moistened biscuit, in lieu of bread ; after which, tea, (oh how re- 
 freshing, though generally milkless !) in copious draughts, relieved 
 at leno'th the thirst that nothing else would assuage. For this, when 
 a cup too low, a glass or two of punch was now and then substituted. 
 Such was my ordinary living ; it might, as before said, have been 
 more luxurious ; but it was well enough, in fact ; and it is sufficient 
 to show that the privations of many travellers, for which they draw 
 
 * Vide Laborde's account of his preparations.
 
 PRECAUTIONS — THE BEDOUINS. 13 
 
 SO pathetically on the reader's compassion, are either affected, like 
 the well-feigned woes of the beggar, or, if real, are at least owing to 
 their own want of proper foresight. I consider that the want of 
 water is the only real hardship ; not that, though in the wilderness, 
 there can then be any occasion to use sand instead of water for one's 
 ablutions, as some declare they were compelled to do ; or to adopt 
 what painters call " the nasty picturesque" in any of one's habits. 
 This term, so characteristic of the Bedouins, reminds me that it is 
 well not to associate too closely with them, nor to admit them 
 unnecessarily within the sacred enclosure of one's tent. By their 
 fire, on the clean sand, it is pleasant to join their wild bivouac ; but 
 beware the contact of their tattered garments with your nightly 
 couch. People often complain of the destruction, one by one, of all 
 their oriental illusions ; and, after watching a hairy Bedouin sheik 
 chasing certain minute game through the folds of his drapery, and 
 findino- several in one's sheets, one would feel disposed to keep the 
 very patriarchs themselves at a distance. After the above discovery, 
 I always laid my own carpet, folded my own sheets, and loaded my 
 own dromedary, and had every reason to rejoice that I did so, in an 
 entire exemption, for the future, from every sort of vermin ; an 
 assertion which will tend to relieve such as may have been alarmed, 
 with reason, at the disclosures of Messrs. Irby and Mangles.* 
 
 After our supper, the remains of which were distributed among 
 those of the Bedouins who, by fetching wood and assisting in the 
 cookery, contrived to establish a claim, I often went out and joined 
 
 * " A traveller in these countries, however much the thought may shock Iiim 
 at first, must make up his mind to be constantly covered with lice and fleas : 
 we kill every day from ten to twenty of these gentry, who are always to be 
 found on every mat or cushion used in the country. These nauseous visitors 
 seldom get into the head, but crawl about your shirt and clothes. Every 
 native you see is covered with them, and if you ask why they have such a 
 plentiful store, while we are comparatively so little attacked, they tell you 
 ' it is the curse of God on them.' The other day I cut my foot, and our Arab 
 Seys, (who has accompanied us all the way from Yaffa, and is a very cleanly 
 person, washing himself constantly,) tore off a small piece of the sleeve of his 
 shirt to apply to the wound : the piece was about three inches long by two 
 wide, and before using it, I killed on it three lice and two fleas ! "—Irby, ^c.
 
 14 FIRST VIEW OF THE RED-SEA. 
 
 them. They were seated apart, round a large fire, which glared 
 upon their savage, but often noble features, ^vild dress and 
 accoutrements, and the heads of camels dozing in the grateful 
 warmth, shooting a few rays beyond into the blackness and silence 
 around, presenting a subject that Rembrandt would have revelled 
 in. The Bedouins in their ordinary habits, and unless excited by 
 any subject of dispute, are as " subdued in manner" as the most 
 fastidious aristocrat might desire. The wide expanse and brooding 
 silence of the outstretched wilderness seem to fall like an influence 
 upon them, moulding their thoughts and actions into conformity 
 with the elements they move in. They are also singularly temper- 
 ate in theu- habits ; and, as yet, have not acquired a taste for 
 drinkinor from travellers or recreant Moslems. Not all the wines in 
 the world were to them worth those minute cups of sugarless coffee 
 which made their round, often till late into the night, and the whiff" 
 of their broken pipe, which also passed round, accompanying the 
 endless tales, in which Komeh, I found, was no mean proficient ; for, 
 besides the marvellous subjects common to the Arabs, he had more- 
 over his stock of foreign travel to Mecca, and into Abyssiuia, 
 and elsewhere, upon which to draw for startling adventures. At 
 length, wrapped in their scanty cloaks, these children of the Desert, 
 and even their camels, sleep, as the proverb has it, with one eye 
 open, in a circle built up of packsaddles and gear ; the camel, it is 
 said, uttering a peculiar suppressed sound at the approach of any- 
 thing suspicious. Such is the ordinary routine of the day and 
 night in the wilderness ; and with good health and spiiits, it is for 
 a while delightful. 
 
 October 3. From an early hour we were anxiously looking out 
 for the Red-Sea ; but, for a long while, the treacherous film of the 
 mirage entirely bewildered the prospect. At length we obtained a 
 first view of its memorable waters, running up, like a broad lake or 
 river, between ranges of dull dark mountains ; Djebel Attaka (the 
 Mount of Deliverance) appearing as the conspicuous landmark, and 
 the arid sandy slope, which descends to its shores, being dotted by 
 three white specks, which indicated man's abode. On the left was
 
 SUEZ — THE INDIAN MAIL. 15 
 
 the Castle of Ajmd, the first fortified station on the pilgrim-road to 
 Mecca ; the second, a similar but smaller structure, called Bir 
 Suweis, the Well of Suez ; lastly, that dull prison -looking town 
 itself — the half-way house between the most mighty of modem 
 nations and her colossal Indian empire. The steamer from Bombay 
 was rapidly coming up the solitary gulf What sight more com- 
 mon at home ? — yet here, to see that swift-winged messenger, keep- 
 ing, in defiance of wind and weather, " her steady com-se both day 
 and night,'' with her jfreight of momentous interests, national and 
 domestic, and binding hearts that beat in the green homes of 
 England to those of distant relatives in the burning East, — one of 
 those links of civilization, those pioneers of Christianity, \^ith which 
 our beloved country is encircling the world, — ^might well awaken 
 a thrill of proud and patriotic emotion. And as I toiled along, at 
 two miles an hour, in patriarchal fashion, perched on the back of the 
 old carrier of the Desert, and saw, at the same time, that marvellous 
 creation of modem skill cleaving the very waters of the miraculous 
 passage, and casting anchor beyond the shoals of Suez, I seemed 
 to realize at once the old world with its prodigies, and the new with 
 its onward and gigantic movement, and to bridge the wide and 
 troublous interval of ages and of revolutions by which they are 
 divided. 
 
 In the conveyance of the mail across the Desert, there is the 
 same curious blending of the past and present. " Those," says 
 Sir W. C. Harris, " who, like myself, have viewed the overland 
 communication as the connecting link with their native land, will 
 be horrified, as I was, with the singular preparations making in 
 the court-yard adjoining the agent's house, for the transmission 
 across the Desert of the numerous boxes containing the mail. 
 Hundreds of refractory camel-owners flock together with their tur- 
 bulent beasts of burden, and the clamour and Babel-like confuision 
 is presently at its climax. All are eagerly eyeing the pile of cases, 
 but none venture to approach. Suddenly two or three janissaries, 
 whose office it is to superintend the distribution, arise from their 
 seats, cast aside their long pipes, and lay about with their ratans in
 
 16 PASSENGERS FROM INDIA. 
 
 the most indiscriminate fashion, without either favour or affection. 
 A gener.il rush ensues : camels growl and drivers curse. The 
 packages are rudely lashed upon the saddles, and, as the loading of 
 each dromedary is completed, away he goes at a trot into the dusky 
 Desert, and is soon veiled from sight in the flat horizon. From the 
 moment of starting each party is left to his own devices, with a 
 simple understanding that he is to make the best of his way to 
 Cairo ; and every letter of the thousands and tens of thousands thus 
 consigned to the Desert, reaches its destination in from sixteen 
 to twenty hours." 
 
 We halted a moment to give our camels a little brackish water at 
 the Well of Suez ; and, as we proceeded towards the town, encoun- 
 tered a file of these old-fashioned carriers, laden as described, who may 
 find, some of these days, their occupation gone, by the construction 
 of a raih-oad, or the revival at least of the canal of the old Egyptian 
 kings. Nest issued forth several of the light vans in which the 
 passengers are conveyed to Cairo, their Arab drivers furiously crack- 
 ing their whips, and m-ging along the slight but sinewy horses at 
 top speed over the gravel. From beneath the awnings which shaded 
 these carriages peeped forth faces, from which, for the most part, all 
 trace of the rose of England had for ever vanished ; pale women, 
 ydth sickly children, tended by dusky Indian ayahs ; bronzed and 
 sinewy- looking men too, negligent in costiune, and indifferent in 
 look, but with all that calm hauteur which cleaves to the masters of 
 the world, some of whom, indeed, appeared to be seasoned to the 
 climate ; while others, stricken by its fatal influence, seemed hurry- 
 ing home but to die, or drag out the remainder of a life robbed 
 of that elasticity of nerves and spirits which alone can render it 
 desirable ; with whom to reach once more the chalk cliffs of Eng- 
 land, and to breathe again the air of her green fields, is the one 
 absorbino; feelinor. 
 
 It was after my return from the Desert, myself broken in health, 
 when standing on the deck of the small steamer which plies from 
 Cairo to Alexandria, that an old medical friend, residing in the 
 former place, came on board with a patient a young officer, to whom
 
 
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 Kerak 
 
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 AllAii]rA IPETIUEA; 
 
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 THE DYING OFFICER — SUEZ. 17 
 
 he begged me to render any attentions in my power. " He may 
 die," observed he, " at any moment ;" and when I saw him borne 
 down stau's I much questioned whether he would even reach Alex- 
 andi'ia alive. I found that he had been some years in India, though 
 young, and had already returned home once for the benefit of his 
 health ; but scarcely had he again set foot on the fatal shore of 
 Hindostan, ere he was warned to return instantly if he would save 
 his life. He had been but four months absent from England when 
 thus, with death in his looks, and unable to move without the 
 assistance of two men, he was fighting his way back again. He had 
 left Bombay without a servant ; on his arrival at Suez was unable 
 to proceed, lingering for a fortnight in its wretched hotel ; then, with 
 a desperate efibrt, he got across to Cairo, where he had been under 
 the care of my friend for another fourteen days. He had been 
 getting all this while gradually worse, but his spirit was unbroken — 
 the Desert, he said, was behind him, and every day would bring him 
 nearer to his mother, who was anxiously expecting him ; " and 
 then," he said, kindly pressing my hand, " you must come and see 
 me." But that meeting will never happen on this side of the grave. 
 Little know the sons of the Desert, who look with awe upon the 
 power of England, of the sacrifices by which it is purchased. 
 
 We preferred to encamp by the sea-shore, to catch what little 
 relief we could from the freshness of the breaking surges ; for Suez 
 is a desert without its only redeeming quahty of freedom. A 
 mouldering wall encircles it, except where open to the sea ; within 
 are several void spaces, differing in no respect from the expanse 
 without, save that they are noisome with an accumulation of filth, 
 and save also that they are bordered by large dreary heaps of dingy- 
 coloured houses, which seem about to fall in and bury their sallow 
 inhabitants. Not a green tree or shrub, or a drop of fresh water, and 
 all supplies fetched from a distance, even from Cairo. Scattered about 
 are encampments of pilgrims, mostly Mughreby Arabs, from Western 
 Africa, whose sullen and half-menacing appearance disposes one to 
 give them a wide berth. This dead and alive appearance imposes 
 a melancholy to which one is a stranger in the Desert, and made me 
 
 D
 
 18 PASSAGE OF THE RED SEA. 
 
 hurry back to my tent, after a very short walk through the bazaar, 
 and to the muddy beach — along which are scattered some singular 
 vessels, built high at the stem, like those of many ages back. The 
 only interesting view was that of the distant mountains towards 
 Sinai, into whose defiles I was now eager to penetrate. 
 
 After a brief survey of Suez, and loitering an hour or two on the 
 sands, together with dining under the shade of my tent, I set off 
 towards evening to go across the gulf, walking slowly round the 
 shore in advance of the camels. A short distance from Suez, on the 
 left hand, are the mounds called Tel Kolzum, the ancient Kolzum, 
 or Clysma, near which are several small salt-pans ; and leaving the 
 mounds of the ancient canal far to the left, we struck directly across 
 to the other side, the tide then being out. This appeared to be a 
 well-beaten track, as we met trains of camels, and it is probably the 
 shortest way across the head of the gulf The ground had evidently 
 been recently overflowed by the sea, which formerly extended, there 
 can be little doubt, still further up to the northward, towards the 
 mounds of the canal (see Map) which communicated with it ; but 
 its bed has gradually become filled up by drifts from the regiou 
 of shiftin"- sands, which lie to the north and north-east, and which 
 are brought down with such force by the north wind, as in a 
 few hours to raise mounds sufficiently large to obliterate the pilgrim 
 route, as we subsequently found on our return. This part of the 
 gulf must therefore, at one time, have been, beyond all question, 
 both broader and deeper than at present. 
 
 The sun had set long before we cleared the sea-beat sands, and 
 reached the plain beyond, on the Asian side of the gulf There 
 was a wild and most thrilling excitement to me in this passage : 
 the sun set beyond the long dark mass of Mount Attaka — the 
 " Mount of Deliverance" — shooting its fiery rays through a mass of 
 lurid clouds ; a strong wind set up the gulf ; the distant roar of 
 the sea was on our right ; the time, the place, the darkness, the 
 knowledge that either here, or not far hence, is supposed to have 
 occurred so stupendous a manifestation of divine power, affected the 
 imagination with peculiar force : the tempestuous wind ; the divi-
 
 THE EXODUS. 
 
 19 
 
 sion of the agitated waves ; the defiling of the trembling Israelites 
 through the awful pass ; the confusion and terror of the host ; the 
 subHme confidence of the leaders; the grandeur of the terrible 
 catastrophe, were pictured to the soul as they never could have been 
 elsewhere than on these memorable sands. We halted and pitched 
 our tent by star-light on the first rise of the Arabian peninsula, and, 
 with Suez and the stations behind us, felt that we had done with 
 civilization for a while to come. 
 
 The Desert, upon which we were now entering, has most probably 
 remained unchanged, save by the slow processes of nature, ever 
 since the remote era of those marvellous events which have stamped 
 its barren sands ^-ith so lasting an interest ; no spirit-stirring move- 
 ments have disturbed its loneliness ; the march of armies, and the 
 shock of conflict, may have been faintly heard on its borders, but the 
 wild Bedouin has retained for ages undisputed possession of its in- 
 ner solitudes, and wandered through them entirely unmolested by 
 other races of men, and unnoticed, unless, when impelled by curi- 
 osity, or, peradventure, by holy zeal, an occasional traveller has now 
 and then solicited his guidance through its weary defiles to the 
 localities sanctified by the miracles of his faith. On the threshold 
 of this theatre of wonders a few remarks suggest themselves, derived 
 from personal observation and from the testimony of others. Some 
 of those who admit the truth of the Biblical history of the Exo- 
 dus, have often, while retaining the miracles, appeared anxious, 
 as I think uselessly, to give them a rationalist interpretation ; 
 as though the only difficulties were those connected with the admis- 
 sion of°the isolated prodigies, which occur as exceptions in the 
 course of the narrative. This is especiaUy the case with writers at 
 a distance from the actual scene ; and thus it occurs that in popular 
 histories of the Jews, their gathering on the borders of Egypt, and 
 their march through the wilderness, are, although admitted to 
 be extraordinary and providential circumstances, yet considered as 
 entirely within the pale of natural possibility. The impression on 
 the mind of the visitor to the scene itself is, however, quite dif- 
 ferent ; for when he comes to view with his own eyes this region of
 
 20 A STANDING MIRACLE. 
 
 desolation, and personally to experience its perils and privations, 
 the mere fact of such a multitude subsisting there for any lengthened 
 period, or even hastily passing through it, as far exceeds the passage 
 of the Red Sea, or any other of the recorded exhibitions of divine 
 power, as a continual miracle must surpass an occasional one. 
 When we picture to ourselves a scattered multitude greater than 
 the population of London, with its usual proportion of women and 
 children, of weakness and superannuation, to have organized it on 
 so short a notice, for any journey, and under the most favourable 
 circumstances, could scarcely have come within the range of mortal 
 power ; and, unless the " Wilderness" of the Bible was widely dif- 
 ferent from the Desert of our day, of which we have not the smallest 
 proof, nothing less than a daily succession of miracles could have 
 enabled them to accomplish it. Could they otherwise have braved 
 the hot sands of the Desert, or carried the booty collected from their 
 oppressors, or the necessary stock of food for the two months which 
 elapsed before the first miraculous supply in the Desert of Sin f 
 We read of no camels so employed, although very many thousands 
 must otherwise have been necessary. And what must have been the 
 supply of water required for all this host ? If, as now, obtainable 
 only at distant intervals, how soon would most of the present wells 
 have been exhausted in supplying the fii'st comers ! and where were 
 the means of carrying with them enough to suffice imtil the next was 
 reached ? Either the number and volume of these wells and springs 
 must have been miraculously increased, or the power of endurance 
 of thirst on the part of the wanderers.* To any one who realizes 
 
 • " I am filled with wonder that so many travellers should task their inge- 
 nuity to get clear of the miracles, which, according to the narrative of Moses, 
 were wrought to facilitate the journey of that vast unwieldy host, when it is 
 demonstrable that they could not have subsisted three days in this desert 
 without supernatural resources.'"'' — Rev. E. Ol'in, Travels, ^c. 
 
 " How, in these wide deserts, this host of more than two millions of souls, 
 having no traffic or intercourse with the surrounding hordes, could find sup- 
 plies of food and water sufficient for their support, ivithout a constant miracle, I, 
 for one, am unable to divine. Yet among them we read only of occasional 
 longings and complaints ; while the tribes that now roam over the same 
 regions, although numbering scarcely as many thousands, are exposed to
 
 THEORIES ON THE PASSAGE. 21 
 
 these difficulties on the spot, the Exodus of the Israelites must ap- 
 pear, from beginning to end, to require a succession of continual mira- 
 cles, although mention is made of only a few. This merely partial 
 allusion to supernatural interposition made in the sacred histoiy, is 
 a difficulty, doubtless, more frequently felt than expressed by those 
 travellers who uphold its divine inspiration ; while to an opposite 
 class, this apparent contradiction, or more properly omission, may, 
 perhaps, tend to give it, apart from other difficulties, the character 
 of a merely legendary narrative, founded on some slender basis 
 of fact now difficult to trace. But if the confiding Christian will 
 admit any hypothesis rather than this, and wHl recoil from the idea 
 of rejecting that which is given because more is not given, the 
 mere student of histoiy will admit that all the information which 
 has been of late years so abundantly derived from Egyptian monu- 
 ments,* proves that the author of the Pentateuch was learned in all 
 the wisdom of that nation, and that no more plausible theory has 
 ever, as yet, been suggested, to explain the admitted forcible seizure 
 and possession of Palestine, by the children of Israel, than such 
 an Exodus as is there detailed. 
 
 Before proceeding further it may be well to notice, briefly, the 
 different theories respecting the passage of the Red Sea. There are 
 two spots which have been fixed upon, in modem times, as the most, 
 probable points at which the passage commenced ; the fii'st at the 
 mouth of Wady Tawarik, the second somewhere in the neighbour- 
 hood of Suez. (See Map.) The latter derives its main support 
 from the supposed position of the land of Goshen, which there 
 is strong reason to believe to be identical with the modem province 
 of Es-slurkiyeh, on the Pelusiac, or eastern branch of the Nile, 
 extending to the verge of the Desert, while it is supposed that 
 Zoan (Tanis) was at that time the seat of the Pharaohs. The 
 distance from the borders of this tract to the Bed Sea, near Suez, is 
 
 famine and privation of every ki>,d ; and, at tlie best, obtain only a meagre 
 and precarious subsistence."-iZey. E. Robinsons Biblical Researches. 
 
 * See in particular, Hengstenber^^'s Book of Moses Illustrated from the 
 Monuments of Egypt, edited by Dr. W. C. Taylor.
 
 22 FORDS AT SUEZ. 
 
 about thirty miles, which Trould be a moderate three days' journey for 
 the cumbrous host of the Israelites. On approaching the borders of 
 the sea, their proper course would obviously have been to the east 
 of the head of the gulf, direct into the Wilderness of Sinai ; but we 
 are informed that a false movement was ordered, for the express 
 purpose of inducing the Egyptians to conclude that they were " en- 
 tangled in the land ;" and this consisted in their passing to the west 
 of the gulf, and thus having the high mountains of Djebel Attaka 
 on the fight, and the sea on the left, while the Egyptians threatened 
 their rear. In this perilous dilemma they are supposed then to 
 have encamped on the sea-shore near Suez ; and, while their move- 
 ments were concealed or protected by the pillar of cloud, a strong 
 east or north-east wind, blowing with preternatural force, opened to 
 them a passage to the opposite shore of the guK, here about three or 
 four miles wide ; a distance which, to say the least, might easily be 
 accomplished in the course of a night. There are still two fords 
 in the neighbourhood of Suez ; (one, in some places, breast high, 
 passed by Dr. Madden ; the other less dangerous ;) the bottom of 
 both is flat and sandy, and as there can be little doubt this arm of 
 the o-ulf was at that time both wider and deeper, the miracle would 
 be sufficiently striking. It is in favour of this theory that the 
 Eo^^tians should have followed after the Israelites ; for although, 
 without the supposition of a miraculous infatuation, which is indeed 
 implied, it is inconceivable why, with their rapid chariots, they 
 should not rather have preferred to turn, in an hour or two, the head 
 of the oTilf, and thus have hemmed in the retreating Jews ; still we 
 cannot imaoine that they could, even if disposed, have efiected their 
 descent, with these same chariots, into the uneven bed of the sea 
 far lower down, where its depths, and the consequent steepness of its 
 banks, would have been insuperable obstacles. 
 
 Those who contend for the greater probability of the passage 
 
 havino- taken place some distance below Suez, from the mouth of 
 
 Wady Tawarik, are as much influenced by the consideration that 
 
 the miracle would here be far more striking,* as Niebuhr, in 
 
 * See Olin, Stephens &c.
 
 WADY TAWARIK. 23 
 
 fixing it at Suez was, perhaps, by the opposite one. Some have 
 supposed that the Israelites, instead of setting out from the neigh- 
 bourhood of Zoan, departed either from that of Memphis or Helio- 
 polis, and that thus their route lay along the Wady Tawarik, 
 which stretches from the neighbourhood of Toura, near Cairo, down 
 to the Red Sea : but others, while following the received supposition 
 that the Land of Goshen was near Zoan, and that the Israelites 
 proceeded thence to the Red Sea, conceive, that in order to render 
 the miracle more remarkable, they were allowed to proceed thus far 
 out of their proper course, in order to tempt the Egyptians after 
 them ; and that when they were at length hemmed in on either 
 hand by the two rocky walls of Wady Tawarik, with the sea in front, 
 their great dehverance was effected ; and that crossing at this point 
 they came out some miles lower doicn on the Arabian side, not 
 far from Ayun Musa. Unquestionably the miracle would here 
 have been far more conspicuous and awful ; but the width of the 
 sea is greater than we can suppose the Israelites to have passed in a 
 few hours, encumbered as they were ; and, as before said, it is 
 utterly inconceivable that the Egyptians with their chariots, could 
 ever have followed them into the coralline and weedy depths of a 
 sea some twelve miles wide, unless, indeed, miraculously enabled, 
 as well as impelled, to do so. 
 
 I am indebted to the kindness of ]\Ir. Sharpe for the suggestion of 
 another and a very remarkable theory, borne out in a very strikino- 
 manner by local peculiarities ; and as its exposition includes also 
 much interesting notices of the ancient canals and roads across the 
 Isthmus, the reader will, I am sure, be gratified by the insertion of 
 his paper. I may observe that all the stations alluded to are care- 
 fully inserted on the map by his own direction. 
 
 On the Land of Goshen, and the Jews' March out of 
 Egypt, by Samuel Sharpe, Esq. 
 
 The country between Cairo, the Gulf of Suez, and the Mediterranean, has 
 fewer ancient ruins than the other parts of Egypt ; and the traveller is 
 interested tliere more by the recollection of the historic scenes than by the 
 works of art that remain. It was there that Plato studied, that Jeremiah
 
 24 THEORY OF MR. SHARPE. 
 
 wrote his Lamentations; and still earlier, that Moses planned and carried into 
 effect the liberation of his suffering countrymen. It is therefore a work of no 
 little interest to search for, and to point out, the spots which history has thus 
 made famous. The names of the towns have changed again and again ; they 
 differ in the Hebrew and Greek and Arabic writers ; but we will begin with 
 leading the reader, by the help of the Roman Ilinerarium and the Map, along 
 the public roads as they existed in the time of the Antonines, and then endea- 
 vour to show the towns mentioned by Moses. 
 
 We will start from Memphis, the capital of tlie Pharaohs of Lower Egypt, 
 and from the pyramids which some of them hud built as their tombs. If we 
 would reach Pelusium, the frontier city, near the mouth of the most easterly 
 branch of the Nile, we cannot without a boat cross the river to Babylon, the 
 Roman fortress opposite, as the water is too deep to be forded ; but fifteen 
 miles lower down, after it is divided into three channels, it may be forded on 
 horseback when the Nile is lowest, or even by men on foot if they do not mind 
 being wet to the waist. These fords the troops of Perdiccas bravely attempted 
 to pass, in the face of the first Ptolemy's army. One they crossed ; but were 
 routed at the second, while fighting up to their breasts in the water. On 
 leaving the fords, the road leads across Trajan's Canal to Heliopolis, which, by 
 this roundabout way, is twenty-four miles from Alemphis, though only twelve 
 miles from Babylon. Heliopolis was one of the great seats of Egyptian leani- 
 ing : there Plato and Eudoxus studied ; and when Strabo afterwards visited 
 the city, the house in which they dwelt was pointed out to him, to warm his 
 love of virtue. 
 
 From Heliopolis the road runs nearly straight, and about north-east, towards 
 Pelusium. To the town of Scenae, or The Tents, is eighteen miles, leaving on 
 the left the town of Onion, where the Jews of Egypt built their temple ; then 
 to Vicus Judaeorum is twelve miles, and then to Thoum, or Pa-tumos, is 
 twelve miles. Thus far the fertile valley of the Nile has been on the left- 
 hand, and the Desert sand-hills on the right ; but at Thoum a second valley 
 runs due eastward, towards the Bitter Lakes, and is made fertile by tlie 
 canal. Eight miles to the west of Thoum is the great city of Bubastis, 
 once the capital of that part of Egypt : but proceeding towards Pelusium, 
 from Thoum to Tasacarta, is twenty-four miles ; then to Daphnre is eighteen 
 miles ; and then, lastly, to Pelusium is twenty miles, and the road crosses the 
 marshes, near the Nile, which Nectanebo had deepened into a trench, to 
 strengthen the frontier against the Persian invasion. By this road, frona 
 Pelusium to Memphis, Carabyses, king of Persia, and afterwards Alexander 
 the Great, each marched to the conquest of Egypt ; and by the same road 
 the brave Johanan, at the head of the remnant of Judah, with his prisoner 
 Jeremiah, fled from Nebuchadnezzar, nor stopped till they had crossed the 
 marshes and entered the little town of Daphnse, or Tahpenes, a town named 
 after the queen of Sliishank, the conqueror of Rehoboam. 
 
 Where the city of Thoum stands, as we have seen, a second valley runs
 
 THEORY OF MR. SHARPE. 25 
 
 eastward from the Nile, and along this flows Necho's old Canal. This is forty 
 miles long, and begins near the city of Bubastis, and ends in the lower Bitter 
 Lakes, which, when thus made fresh, bore the name of the Crocodile Lakes. 
 Between the Crocodile Lakes and the head of the Red Sea is the large upper 
 Bitter Lake, and on the other side of the Crocodile Lakes is a natural drainage 
 towards the Mediterranean, which runs into the marshes before spoken of, on 
 the road between Daphna> and Pelusium. Trajan's new Canal flowed along 
 the same valley as Necho's Canal, but probably on rather higher ground, as it 
 began from the Nile, near Babylon, forty miles higher up the river than the 
 old canal, and reached, not the lower Bitter Lakes, but the upper Bitter Lake, 
 which is a few feet higher, and thence entered the Red Sea through flood- 
 gates, which gave their name to the town of Clysma, near Suez. 
 
 The road from Memphis to the Red Sea was not straight through the Desert 
 as travellers now passfi'om Cairo to Suez, but in a semicircle along the valleys, 
 for the sake of water, and by the side of Trajan's Canal. From Memphis, as 
 far as Thoum, it was the road already described. Thence it ran eastward, by 
 the side of Necho's Canal, for twenty-four miles to Heroopolis, near the 
 Crocodile Lakes ; and thence eighteen miles to Serapion, between the Croco- 
 dile Lakes and the upper Bitter Lake. From Serapion to the Red Sea is only 
 forty miles, but is fifty miles by the road which is turned away from the lake's 
 side by the form of the ground. Travellers and caravans entering Egypt 
 from the east, chiefly used this road, by Clysma, Heroopolis, and Thoum ; as 
 on the road from Palestine to Pelusium, they had to carry water with them 
 during their six days' journey through the Desert. 
 
 Along this road, by Clysma and Heroopolis, Abraham and Joseph, and 
 Jacob, no doubt, entered Egypt ; and by the same road Moses led the Israel- 
 ites out in safety. The valleys we have been describing are the Land of 
 Goshen. During the last three thousand five hundred years the language 
 spoken here has been Egyptian, Hebrew, Greek, and lastly Arabic. Cities 
 have been built and gone to ruin ; the two canals have been dug and filled up 
 again ; but the surface of the country remains unchanged, except where, from 
 time to time, the low sand-hills are shifted by the wind. The shifting of the 
 sand, however, has made two important changes ; it has lessened the quantity 
 of water in the Pelusiac branch of the river, and has raised a bank, two feet 
 high, which now separates the Bitter Lake from the Red Sea. These two 
 waters seem originally to have been joined, and the Gulf of Suez, which was 
 called the Bay of Heroopolis, reached almost to tiie city which gave it its 
 name. In the Hebrew Scriptures the city is named Haliiroth, and that end of 
 the Red Sea, Pi-Hahiroth, or the Bay of Hahiroth. 
 
 We will now follow Moses and the Israelites in their march out of Egypt, 
 and though the names given to the cities in the Scriptures are not the same as 
 those used in the Roman Itinerary, or Greek historians ; and though in the 
 ease of any single town we might be uncertain, yet, when comparing with the 
 map a series of five towns, wo have no difficulty in recognizing them.
 
 26 THEORY OF MR. SHARPE. 
 
 On comparing the Book of Exodus with the Book of Numbers, we see that 
 Moses, after leaving the presence of Pharaoh, whom he had been to, perhaps 
 in Memphis, returned to the Israelites at Ramesos, one of the towns in whicli 
 they were allowed to dwell, in which we recognise Heliopolis, from the two 
 names having the same meaning, The City of the Sun. From Rameses the 
 Israelites hastily departed, and marched to Succoth, which we clearly recog- 
 nise in Scena?, from these two names again having the same meaning, The 
 Tents. This is a distance of about fourteen miles. At Succoth they spent 
 their first night ; and no doubt theii* countrymen who dwelt there joined 
 them in their flight. 
 
 From Succoth they next day marched twenty-four miles, passing through a 
 village which we only know by its Latin name, Vicus Judaeorum, and en- 
 camped at Etham, or Bouthan, at the edge of the Desert, which can only be 
 the Thoum of the Itinerary. Tlioura was a place of some size, named after 
 the Egyptian god Atliom ; and though some Jews may have dwelt there, we 
 must suppose that this large body of now hostile people rather encamped in 
 the neighbourhood than entered the gates. 
 
 At Etham the IsraeUtes took the right-hand road, and turned towards 
 Hahiroth, wliich is certainly Ileroopolis, because each has given its name to 
 the Gulf of Suez, which, by the Greek geographers, is called the Bay of Hero- 
 opolis, and by the Hebrew writers Pi-hahiroth, or the Bay of Hahiroth. 
 They did not go to the city of Hahiroth, which stands on rising ground, on 
 the left side of the valley ; nor did they go straight forward to Baal-zephon, 
 or Serapium, which stands between the Upper and Lower Lakes, and was the 
 natural way out of Egypt ; but they turned to the right, and encamped by the 
 water-side, between Migdol, The Tower, and the sea, over against Baal-zephon. 
 It was the march in this direction which seemed the fatal move — wliich made 
 the Egyptians say, " They are entangled in the land ; the Desert hath shut 
 them in." It was at this encampment, also, that they were overtaken by the 
 Egyptian chariots in advance of the rest of the aimy. 
 
 From this encampment, which may have been fifteen miles to the south of 
 Hahiroth, and twenty -five to the north of Clysma, the Israelites were forced 
 hastily to retreat ; and they marched southward, murmuring against their leader 
 and against their God, because they had not been left to serve the Egyptians 
 rather than be brought out to die in the Desert. Had the Bitter Lake been 
 separated from the Bay of Heroopolis as it is now, they would have been in no 
 such fear ; they might have marched near where Ptolemy's town of Arsinoe 
 was afterwards built, or where the Roman town of Clysma stood, or where 
 Suez now stands, each of which, in its turn, has been left by the waters of the 
 Red Sea. But they saw no way of escape, and they marched all the fourth day 
 southward, having the sea on one side and the low desert hills on the other. 
 By night they reached the place where Clysma was afterwards built ; and there, 
 to their surprise, they saw a deliverance opened to them : " Moses stretched 
 out his hand over the sea ; and the Lord caused the sea to go back by a strong
 
 ■I 

 
 AYUN MUSA. 27 
 
 east wind all that night, and made the sea dry land, and the waters were 
 divided." For an hour or two the waters had the same boundaries as they 
 have now. The Israelites walked over the bed of the sea on dry ground, with 
 water on their right hand and on the left. The Egyptian chariots followed 
 in the morning ; but the wind fell, perhaps the tide rose, and the waves re- 
 turned to the destruction of the pursuing army. 
 
 Since that time the shifting sands of the Desert have banked back the 
 waters of the bay, and left that remarkable spot always dry ; and every 
 caravan from Cairo to Mecca passes over the spot where the Egyptian army 
 was drowned. The sands have also clioked up the two canals, on one of 
 which Christian pilgrims had sailed even in the eighth century, in their ^vay to 
 the Holy Land, and by both of which the country was irrigated. The Land 
 of Goshen, which the Israelites watered laboriously, like a garden, by means 
 of wells and buckets, is again become a desert. By the sands also the Pelusiac 
 branch of the river has been very much lessened ; tlie ruins of the great towns 
 of Bubastis and Pelusium can no longer be reached by vessels from the sea; 
 and the waters of the Nile, which now flow in fewer and deeper channels, can 
 no longer be forded between Memphis and Heliopolis. 
 
 October 4. To resume my journal. We broke up at an early 
 liour from our encampment near the sea, and proceeding along tlie 
 irregular sandy plain reached Ayun Musa, '' the Wells of Moses," 
 about nine o'clock. Since leaving the green Nile we had seen 
 nothing so refreshing as this little oasis ; and yet it consisted but in 
 a few patches of wild palm-trees and bushes, and one or two gardens, 
 laboriously won from the Desert by force of irrigation by the briny 
 spring, and protected from the sands by reed fences. One of these, 
 surrounding its own white villa, had a most pleasing appearance 
 in such a neighbourhood : we understood it belonged to a gentleman 
 of Suez, who was in the habit of skimming across from time to time 
 in his boat, a brief sail, to inspect the cultivation of his own vegeta- 
 bles. But the most characteristic object was a group of wild palms, 
 nourished by one of these unpalatable springs : in its shade I 
 pitched my tent, and breakfasted while the zemzemias were filled, 
 there being no water all the way hence to !Marah. The tall and 
 graceful palms of Egypt would hardly acknowledge one of these 
 rugged and stunted specimens of the same beautiful family, with its 
 knotted trvmk, untended branches, and dingy hue ; deriving sus- 
 tenance from the polluted salt-spring, instead of drinking the
 
 28 THE BEDOUINS. 
 
 glorious Nile, twisted and distorted by its struggles with the sandy 
 desert-blast ; yet we hailed it with more delight, and quitted it with 
 more regret, than a region of groves elsewhere. 
 
 It may reasonably be presumed that the Jews halted at this spot 
 to obtain water, though there may be some change in its appearance, 
 the springs varying in number continually, as the desert wind fills 
 them with drift-sand, and as they are restored by digging ; at pre- 
 sent there are about seven. The principal appears to be that beneath 
 the palm-tree in the sketch, wliich contained a small quantity of 
 dark-coloured brackish water ; and as the camels could not descend 
 into it, they were given to drink by the Bedouins from a wooden t 
 bowl. These wells also were formerly a watering-place for ships. ^"^^^^ 
 
 My companions, the Bedouins, now became objects of great in- 
 terest to me. I had almost overlooked them when crouching in 
 a circle near the hotel in Cairo, speaking with bated breath, and 
 glancing uneasily to and fro with their restless black eyes : now 
 abroad in their own wilderness, they are totally different in man- 
 ner and bearing. They are mostly fine athletic fellows, graceful 
 and even noble in their movements ; a result derived from con- 
 stant exercise, and the sense of untrammelled freedom ; spare and 
 sinewy, both from the sobriety of their habits, and the dry heat 
 which parches up all superfluous flesh, and under ^rhich the tra- 
 veller himself speedily undergoes something of that condensation of 
 muscle which at home could only be produced by systematic train- 
 ing. Their complexion has a duskiness like that of the gipsies in 
 our own country, and of those races who are exposed to all the 
 chances and hardships of out-of-door life ; and this peculiar tint 
 serves to bring out, with the greater effect, the keen blackness of their 
 flashing eyes, and the brilliant whiteness of their uniformly fine 
 teeth. One cannot doubt, in looking at them, that they are of keen, 
 quick intellect, and lively passions ; but the fixed habits of ages 
 have confined their ideas to a narrow range, from which they cannot 
 escape. Within this circle of ideas they incessantly revolve, and 
 display a subtlety and a refinement of cunning which, in a civilized 
 state, would work marvels. They are as sagacious in tracking a
 
 UMBARAK — SALEM. 29 
 
 particular footmark of man or beast through the sand, even in, it is 
 said, the confused and trampled track of a caravan, as a North 
 American savage in following the trail of his foe through the tangled 
 forest. In proportion to the paucity of their rational ideas is their 
 love of the imaginative and the marvellous, of poems embodying the 
 wars and loves of their desert existence ; and they have a no less 
 keen sense of the ludicrous, and love of practical jokes. 
 
 Umbarak, the chief of our little caravan, was a remarkably fine 
 fellow, and on all occasions most obliging, as were indeed the rest. 
 Small gratuities of coffee and eatables, which Komeh dispensed with 
 great tact, kept them in constant good humour ; they were always 
 ready to assist in pitching the tent, and gathering wood for our fii'e. 
 But there was one little fellow whom I came to regard, at last, mth 
 attachment ; a limber slip of a boy about twelve years of age, 
 delicate and spare, and apparently quite unequal to the fatigue and 
 exposure of a long journey over the burning Desert. But one might 
 see that from the lap of his Bedouin mother his life had been one of 
 hardship and privation ; his bones almost protruded tlirough his 
 soft and dusky skin, worn and rubbed white at the salient angles, 
 with hard labour, like those of a negro ; his meagre little frame told 
 of frequent fastings, and scanty innutritions fare ; yet never was 
 eye more bright, tongue more lively, voice more sweetly feminine, 
 spirits more gay, or activity more unwearied, than were those of 
 little Salem. His entire clothing was a ragged tunic, a pair of 
 sandals, and an old Bedouin handkerchief ; and in his leathern belt 
 was a small knife, and a pouch with materials for kindling a fire. 
 Poor fellow ! he flinched a little in the fierce heat of noon, and 
 would then leap up behind on a camel, and with bending head, 
 gasping mouth, and empty stomach, patiently endure the scorching 
 sun on his unsheltered frame : I would then steer my camel along 
 side of him, as by accident, and hand him a portion of my lunch ; 
 but the glowering keen eyes of the hungry Arabs were on the lad ; 
 they were round him in a moment, and with a smile I have seen 
 him give away all but a few mouthfuls. At the evening camp, none 
 so lively or so useful, now tending the camels, now running for
 
 30 ROAD TO MARAH. 
 
 sticks and kindlino; the fire, all the while lauo-hino; and chatterincc ; 
 his merry voice has often roused me from sadness at the close 
 of a weary day. He was very handy and useful to Komeh, and 
 I desired him to feed him, but quite by stealth ; for with the 
 Bedouins there is a stern law of division, even to a fraornent of 
 biscuit ; and no wonder, for they are all alike hungry, and hunger 
 is bitterly selfish. I wondered what they lived on, and was often 
 ashamed to sit down to my own dinner of comparative luxuries, with 
 them around me. They eat, morning and evening, or when a halt 
 gives them the opportunity, of a cake much resembling Scotch oat- 
 cake : they carry about with them a small trough in which it is 
 kneaded, and it is then baked hard over a fire made of sticks or dried 
 camel-dung, on a spot of sand previously hollowed out. This cake 
 is then divided, and constitutes nearly all their nourishment In 
 viewing these their simple habits, preserved unchanged, we go ages 
 back to the days of early Biblical story, thus reproduced before us. 
 But the Bedouins do not always live so sparingly ; when the rains 
 make the face of the Desert to rejoice, and their flocks, spreading 
 over the precious herbage, afford plenty of milk, they indulge liberally 
 in that patriarchal luxury ; while round the tents of the principal 
 sheik, meat is often distributed in abundance ; and then, as Burck- 
 hardt says, they feel like " kings in the Desert." 
 
 Towards noon we left the shade of the old palm, and launched out 
 upon the scorching track. From a slight rise of sand-hills, a 
 burning region spread out before us ; an irregular plain of sand and 
 gravel, extending from the foot of the mountains Er-Rahah, which 
 support the great inland central plateau of the Desert, down to the 
 shores of the sea ; its surface is indented slightly by occasional 
 wadies, or valleys, here merely irregular depressions in the level, 
 caused by the passage of the winter floods from the mountains to the 
 sea, and dotted by scanty tufts of coarse grass and withered gritty- 
 looking shrubs, which the camels in passing generally caught at with 
 avidity, but sometimes refused. After the continuance of rains, how- 
 ever, these valleys freshen up, and afibrd pasturage to the flocks of the 
 neighbouring small tribe of Terabin Arabs, whose encampment lies
 
 ■^
 
 AiN HOWARAH — MARAH. 31 
 
 beneath a singular and conspicuous peak on the left, called Taset 
 Sudr, or the Cup of Sudr, from a fountain there. The shipless sea 
 appears on our right, and the dark mountains of Attaka beyond, 
 vdth the opening of Wady Tawarik. In one of these wadies we en- 
 camped at sunset. 
 
 October 5. Off before sunrise, commencing the labours of a 
 most toilsome day. Plain, mountain, and wady in a blaze of white 
 heat, " lie like a load on the weary eye," and seem as if they had 
 just passed, all palpitating, through a fiery crucible. Truly this 
 beginning of their Desert course must have appalled the Israelites 
 — we picture them toiling over the burning expanse — here, too, we 
 learn that they were destitute of water, a fearful privation. In the 
 afternoon we leave this wearisome plain, and ascend the first range 
 of the white limestone hills, and get peeps of the mountain region 
 beyond. Winding among these hiUs, at sunset we reached the foun- 
 tain Howarah, and encamped, at a short distance beyond, under the 
 shelter of the two tufts of wild palm-bushes which are represented 
 in the accompanying sketch. 
 
 Returning to the fountain while the tent was being pitched, I 
 felt what a charm might belong to the dreariest track and the most 
 insignificant object, if imagination can but bring back the scenes of 
 earUest historic time. After the two days' broiling since we left 
 Suez, it was easy to picture to ourselves the feelings with which 
 the famished host would approach the welcome fountain ; mothers 
 pressing with their dying children to gaiu but a drop of the precious 
 supply, the anguish of their disappointment, and their despair, — too 
 strong for faith, even after recent experience of the power of their 
 God, — and incredulous surprise at the miracle giving place to grate- 
 ful thanksgiving. It would form a noble subject for a painter 
 endued with high powers of expression. As, absorbed in such ideas, 
 I stood alone by the brink of the small oval pool which occupies 
 the centre of a mound of travertine, gradually formed in the course 
 of time, by depositions from its petrifying spring, and was gaz- 
 ing into the little basin of dark water, one of the Arabs came 
 down to give drink to his camel, and at the same time to obtain
 
 32 WATER OF MARAH. 
 
 a supply. This rather surprised me, as some have asserted that 
 even camels * refused the water on account of its bitterness ; and in 
 my then imaginative mood, I took it for granted the water was not 
 potable, at least by human beings ; but seeing this, I stepped down 
 and drank a palm-ful, certainly without noticing anything bitter, 
 which might possibly arise from the nauseousness of those potations 
 to which I had become used since leaving Suez. In the course 
 of the evening I suflFered from thii'st, and the water in the skins 
 having all the appearance, and somewhat of the taste, of a strong 
 decoction of rhubarb and Russia leather, I sent down to the spring 
 for a draught. Before drinking it, however, I asked the Arab 
 whether it was bad, and whether they were accustomed to drink it ; 
 and their reply was, that it was considered " mush taib," or very 
 bad, and that they did not drink it if they could get other water. 
 It looked so clear, however, that I determined to venture, and after 
 tasting it again, took long and repeated draughts, and was certainly 
 unable to discover anything peculiarly nauseous about it, though 
 I have reason to believe it disagreed mth me afterwards ; or at any 
 rate, that it produced somewhat inconvenient results, of a nature 
 that may be inferred from Dr. Olin's statement, that it resembled to 
 him " a weak solution of Epsom salts.'' The last-mentioned writer 
 declares it " too bitter to be drunken without producing a degree of 
 disgust ;" but what water in the Desert is not ? AVhen the worthy 
 Doctor proceeds, however, to make agreement with his sensations 
 the test of another man's moral honesty, as he does in the case 
 of one of his own party, who, like myself, could discover nothing 
 particularly bad about the water, and says that " no one can tell 
 how far the strong wish to keep clear of the necessity of believing a 
 miracle may operate even icpon his palate," we take leave to remind 
 him that the converse of this may be equally possible. Dr. Robin- 
 son, who both admits the site, and would, of course, contend for 
 miraculous influence in the transformation of the water, remarks, 
 " Its taste is unpleasant, saltish, and somewhat bitter ; but we 
 
 * See Stephens
 
 .AT
 
 WADY GHURUNDEL — ELIM. S3 
 
 could not perceive that it was very much worse than that of 'Ayun 
 Musa ; perhaps because we were not yet connoisseurs in bad water. 
 The Arabs, however, pronounce it bitter, and consider it as the 
 worst water in all these regions. Yet when pinched they drink of 
 it, and our camels also drank freely." 
 
 There are, below the fountain, a considerable number of the 
 Ghurkud, which are often found in similar situations. This shrub 
 bears small red berries, rather acid in taste, and refreshing enough 
 in a parched wilderness ; but neither this, nor any other known shrub 
 or tree, has the property of correcting the bad qualities of the water, 
 in the sense in which the Biblical narrative requires us to suppose, 
 nor are the Bedouins acquainted with such a process. In the lower 
 part of the Desert I never tasted water which I should not elsewhere 
 have rejected with disgust. The admixture of brandy seems to 
 render it even more disagi'eeable, though probably less pernicious : 
 with tea and coffee its bad taste is somewhat less offensive. In 
 general I endeavoured to abstain from it as much as possible. 
 
 October 6. This proved a very interesting, but fatiguing day. 
 I left the encampment at an early hour, and reached the edge of 
 Wady Ghurundel — a considerable valley, filled with wild tamarisk 
 and other bushes — in about two hours. Here we came to a stand, 
 undecided, for some time, whether we should proceed by the direct 
 route to Sinai followed by Dr. Robinson, or pass doAvn the valley to 
 the sea, making a circuit, and regaining it in Wady Useit. I had a 
 great wish to take the latter course, but could obtain no certain 
 information respecting the distance to the springs, which have been 
 usually considered identical with Elim, the next station of the 
 Israelites beyond JMarah. Dr. Robinson reported them, on the autho- 
 rity of his Arabs, at half-an-hour's distance, while all mine declared 
 it to be at two hours' ; and Ibrahim, my interpreter, boldly affirmed 
 that Robinson's book " lied." This was discouraginof ; but I deter- 
 mined to find out for myself ; and thus, sending on the main body, 
 with directions to halt and wait for us in Wady Useit, I took with 
 me Umbarak and Ibrahim, and sheepish enough they looked when in 
 just half-an-hour, as it happened, we reached the principal spring. 
 
 p
 
 34 SPRINGS IN WADY GIIURUNDEL. 
 
 It wells out at the foot of a sandstone rock, forming a small pool of 
 clear water, bordered by sedges, and looked highly refreshing after 
 'Ayim Miisa and Howara : there was even, delightful sight ! a little 
 grass, and birds were hopping about, enjoying the rare luxury. 
 The water, trickling off, pursues its way some distance down the 
 valley, forming a reedy marsh, interspersed Avith thickets of 
 bushes and dwarf palm-trees, and a considerable quantity of tama- 
 risk, with other shrubs, as represented in the illustration ; and 
 as there are also considerable masses of similar vegetation above this 
 point, there are, probably, several other springs which nourish it. 
 Altogether it was a revi\dng sight in the thirsty Desert ; and I saw no 
 spot which could so well correspond with the wells and palm-trees of 
 Eiim, through the entire route to Wady Feiran.* Filling our water- 
 skins we proceeded down the valley, encountering, here and there, 
 a few straggling Arabs of the Terabin, with their flocks, and passing 
 more water and vegetation. In rather above an houi' the blue sea 
 peeped in through the western opening of the Wady, on the left of 
 which, like a portal, rises a noble mass of slaty stone, deeply hollowed 
 out, and throwing a broad, cool shadow into the sandy valley — truly 
 " the shadow of a great rock in a weary land." It might be an 
 unfounded impression, but there seemed to be a physiognomy (as 
 Bulwer says of houses) about this remarkable object ; and I felt, if 
 the host of the Israelites really occupied this valley, and the plain 
 by the sea at its mouth, no station could have been more central, 
 
 * Dr. Lepsius, however, considers that this is in reahty " Marah ; " and 
 that the small spring of Howara, previously described, is too insignificant to 
 have been selected as a halting-place, when this, the more copious supply, was 
 so near. But, on the other hand, it is, perhaps, worthy of remark, that after 
 their three days' previous march from 'Ayun Musa, Howara would be the first 
 water reached by the Israelites, and wliere they would naturally halt for a sup- 
 ply in their extremity before proceeding further. Moreover, the water of 
 Ghurundel, better than even that of Marah, could not have proved particu- 
 larly nauseous, to people fainting from thirst, far less undrinkable, as the nar- 
 rative seems to infer. And, although we cannot estimate a day's march of the 
 Israelites with any great precision, it is improbable, that, encumbered as thoy 
 were, they should have performed fifteen or sixteen miles a day, as they must 
 have done to have reached Wady Ghurundel the third day of their march, the 
 distance being sbt miles beyond Howara.
 
 ROCK OF MOSES. 35 
 
 imposing, or convenient for tlie head-quarters of the great leader 
 than this rock. After lingering awhile to indulge this fancy in its 
 
 welcome shade, I emerged on the small plain which bends round 
 from the mouth of the wady to the base of Djebel Hummam. Here 
 it struck me, at the moment, that a portion of the great host of the 
 Israelites might possibly have taken the route by the sea, and thus 
 have entered the wady at its mouth ; but as there is but one small 
 watering-place, Abu Suweirah, on the way, it is more probable that 
 the main body would keep the track by ]\Iarah. 
 
 The small plain at the end of Wady Ghurundel* we had now 
 to traverse, was, to all appearance, perfectly sterile and stony, and 
 as we had no inducement to make a circuit by the border of the sea, 
 we took a direct course towards the mouth of Wady Useit, keepino- 
 near the desolate limestone mountains, and suffering severely, not- 
 withstanding the sea-breeze, from the unsheltered plain and fiery 
 heat. Djebel Hummam, bold and striking, dropped its huge 
 mountain-mass sheer into the sea beyond the plain, and effectually 
 blocked up further progress along the shore : the Israelites must, 
 therefore, have regained the main track by proceeding up the 
 difficult Wady Useit. 
 
 I had by this time discovered that Umbarak was a very bad 
 
 * Milman, speaking of Elim, says, " In this delightful resting-place they re- 
 mained a month" and it is not till after this that we fi)St read of any miraculous 
 supply.
 
 36 WADY USEIT, 
 
 guide ; and at the mouth of this wady he would certainly have led 
 us astray into a small side valley, had I not, by a close examination, 
 ascertained the true pass. Wady Useit was the first ravine we had 
 entered as yet in the \saldemess. Figure a narrow bed of sand, some- 
 times but wide enough to admit a camel or two abreast, and in places 
 expanding a little, serpentining between two towering walls of lime- 
 stone, many hundred feet high, of the most dazzling whiteness, 
 which, occasionally meeting beneath, scarcely admitted a difficult 
 passage through its terrific jaws. Not a patch of verdure ; but here 
 and there a bright green caper-plant, with its beautiful flower, starting 
 from a fissure of the crags : not a breath of air stirring : the sun 
 poured down its beams vertically into this gulf, casting, at wide in- 
 tervals, from some overhanging projection, a little patch of shadow, 
 which seemed the only refuge from being smitten dead by the reflected 
 heat and fiery glare concentrated upon our devoted caravan. The 
 groans of the distressed camels echoed fearfully among the solitary 
 cliffs ; the Arabs suffered severely, but, as usual, in silence ; and, for 
 myself, gasping and exhausted, I seemed to feel as if my only chance 
 of life depended on a speedy escape from the depths of this fearful 
 chasm. Fancy then the crowded host of the Israelites working 
 their way through such a spot. Never did I watch more impatiently 
 for anything than for the end of this gorge. At length its sides 
 
 diverged, and disclosed a few wild palm-trees, and the flitting 
 figures of our Arabs, who hailed our reappearance with loud and
 
 OASIS IN WADY USEIT. 37 
 
 joyful shouts ; and we soon found that our trusty Komeh had 
 arranged everything for a repast, which was never more welcome 
 to ourselves than in this little oasis, which proved as delightful a 
 halting-place as it must have done to the Israelites of old. 
 
 In consequence of the fatigue he had undergone in this deviation 
 from the regular track, Umbarak, our sheik, thought this a good 
 opportunity to put in a claim for a regular supply of provisions, 
 which he averred was customary, and which claim he backed by the 
 declaration that his stock was exhausted. As the admission of this 
 claim, which, in truth, had no foundation, would have led the whole 
 party to make me their provider, I flatly refused, notwithstanding 
 liis piteous appeal ; but as he had made an unusual circuit, I told 
 Komeh to give him a meal of biscuit, with the strict understanding 
 that it would only be repeated on similar occasions. The rest of the 
 Arabs watched the issue of the manoeuvre with interest, and were 
 obviously disappointed at its unsatisfactory result : as some conso- 
 lation, however, I promised to give them a lamb when we reached 
 Wady Feiran. 
 
 In the afternoon we proceeded on our way over an irregular plain, 
 having on the right the dark rugged mass of Jebel Hummam, and 
 far on the left the broken rido;es of El Tih. Here we first causfht 
 sight of the grand outline of Mount Serbal, the object of our 
 pilgrimage. At sunset we halted for the night under the lee of 
 a sand-hill, a little beyond a singular heap of stones, tricked out 
 with tributary fragments of rags, which the Arabs regarded as the 
 tomb of a female saint, Oreis Themman, or Bride of Themman. 
 
 October 7. I had felt much interest in my endeavours to trace 
 the route of the Israelites yesterday, and now looked forward with 
 pleasure to continuing them by making a similar deviation from the 
 direct route to Sinai, which we quitted early this morning, at the 
 junction of Wady Shubeikeh, or Net, and Wady Humr ; which, here 
 uniting, are called Wady Taiyibeh, which valley we descended to the 
 sea, instead of proceeding by Wady Humr to Sarabut el Khadim. 
 
 The sandstone mountains, increasing in altitude gradually all the 
 way up to the granite ranges of Sinai and Serbal, are here bold and
 
 RAS ABU ZELIMA. 
 
 stem, and give somewhat of a rude grandeur to Wady Taiyibeh. 
 I could neither see nor hear of any living springs ; but there is a 
 considerable quantity of wild verdure, both soil and nourishment 
 being given by deposits from the winter rains, which sweep down the 
 deep bed of the valley in a powerful torrent. We reached the 
 narrow, desolate, shadeless plain, at the mouth of the Wady, in 
 somewhat less than two hours : from Wady Humr it runs out 
 to a point called Ras Abu Zelima. This now foi-saken spot Dr. 
 Lepsius considers to have been the station whence the copper-ore, 
 from the mines of Sarabut el Khadim and Wady Maghara, was 
 conveyed, in the palmy days of the supremacy of Egypt, across the 
 Red Sea to that country, both before and after the Exodus. He 
 founds this view upon its obviously sheltered and comparatively 
 safe anchorage. The " twelve wells," dug, as he contends, to supply 
 the want of natural springs, " and three score palm-trees" of Elim, 
 he places at the mouth of Wady Taiyibeh, or, as he considers it, 
 Wady Shubeikeh, This view of the position of Elim seems veiy 
 doubtful, and Dr. Lepsius, who did not visit the spot, is totally mis- 
 taken in his assertion, that this is the first place on the route of the 
 Israelites where palm-trees are met with in considerable numbers. 
 The wells, if they ever existed, are filled up. Passing a small Arab 
 tomb we came down to the sea, which here, bending inwards, 
 almost touches the mountains, forming a small cove or bay ; before 
 us, at a short distance, a headland projected into the water, 
 casting a patch of shadow on the wet sand. I hastened forward 
 to profit by its coolness : the transparent green waves broke 
 grandly at our feet ; the fresh glittering spray almost reached us : 
 we breathed another air from that of the dusty Desert. I spread 
 a carpet on the damp sand, and, listening to the grand roar of the 
 sea, revelled, for a short time, in the exquisite beauty that nature 
 often unfolds in her most solitary places. But there were none 
 to participate, and momentary rapture soon gave way to a melan- 
 choly sense of isolation, in the heart of the wilderness, far from all 
 I loved. This, and the gradual diminution of my patch of sliadow 
 by the tyrannous sun, soon hurried me again on my solitary way.
 
 PASSAGE ROUND THE HEADLANDS. 
 
 39 
 
 Rambling along the beach I amused myself with hunting for 
 shells, till brought up by another headland, which the sea prevented 
 me from passing. Over this the camels pursued a track a little 
 farther in ; but at two places had to be forced through the water, 
 although the tide was slightly on the ebb ; in fact, except at quite 
 low-water, a numerous caravan could not get round. At length the 
 mountains retire, and an extensive plain succeeds, bounded on the 
 left by high dark ranges, which sweep round again towards the sea 
 further on, and through which lay our direct course towards Sinai. 
 Here, probably enough, after their difficult passage round the 
 headlands, the Israelites "encamped by the sea." 
 
 The plain we now entered extends far along the shore of the Red 
 Sea ; it is by Robinson considered as the Desert of Sin ; Lepsius, 
 however, extends this district as far as to the Serbal, considering 
 the derivation of Sin and Sinai to be the same : he regards the 
 difficult passage by the sea-coast just described, as the geographical 
 division of the Deserts of Shur and Sin. The Israelites had choice 
 of two or three roads hence to V/ady Feiran, as a reference to the 
 Map will show : but it is every way probable, if not absolutely 
 certain, that they must have penetrated the mountain district by 
 the same direct course usually followed at the present day — by the 
 mouth of Wady Shellal. 
 
 In crossing this dreary plain, from neglect on the part of the 
 Arabs, the water gave out, and my brief privation, ere a fresh
 
 40 
 
 EL MURKIIAII — WADY BUDERAH 
 
 supply could be obtained, gave me a sufficient insigbt into what 
 must be all the intolerable agonies of protracted thirst in the wilder- 
 ness. Happily a few half-dry citrons, the last of our stock from 
 Cairo, were found at the bottom of one of the bags, which, at any 
 other time, would have been rejected with disgust, but which were 
 now masticated with desperate relish, and, for a while, relieved 
 my suffering with their acid though bitter juices. Two of the camels 
 were sent to the spring. El Murkhah, at the foot of the mountains 
 which bound the plain on the left, — a noted watering-place on this 
 lower route to Sinai, and the only one, indeed, from Wady Ghu- 
 rundel to Feiran. 
 
 "We saw here numerous desert-partridges, or " quails," of which 
 a miraculous supply was afforded to the Israelites on this very spot : 
 several gazelles also, those graceful tenants of the wilderness, 
 lightly bounded through the rocks and shrubs, as we advanced ; 
 and the Arabs gave chase, but, as usual, without success. Be- 
 fore sunset we had crossed the plain and entered the mountains 
 by Wady Shcllal, which we ascended, into Wady Buderah, encamp- 
 ino- there for the nig-ht, in the heart of a bolder and more romantic 
 region than any we had hitherto passed through, and joyful to have 
 escaped from the lower Desert, with its monotonous aspect and fiery
 
 NUKB BUDERAH. 
 
 41 
 
 heat. We had the good fortune to obtain here, for the first time 
 since leaving Cairo, cold fresh water, supplied by a spring high up 
 the mountain, and a small quantity of milk, luxuries beyond all 
 price, which rejoiced our evening bivouac, and are well worthy 
 of being chronicled in a journal of Desert life. 
 
 October 8. On our way at an early hour, ascending Wady 
 Buderah, at the extremity of which we came to a short, but very 
 steep pass, called the Nukb Buderah, partly built up with rough 
 stones, and which the camels found so difficult that the rocks 
 resounded with their cries ; it was only by removing their loads in 
 the steeper parts of the ascent, that they were ultimately enabled to 
 accomplish it : in these cases, the animal, usually so patient, drops 
 on his knees, and groans Avith distress, opens wide his lips, 
 gnashes his teeth, and utters, in his uncouth way, loud guttural 
 growls, the only appeal he can make against the injustice of a too 
 heavy load ; and till it is removed, all attempts to raise him by blows 
 only serve to increase his impatience to fury ; but once relieved and 
 on his legs again, he paces forward for hours, with the same full, 
 placid eye and tranquil expression as before.* 
 
 We had now entered the point of transition from the sandstone to 
 the granite region. There was a stern oppressive grandeur in 
 the long, narrow, winding valleys, with their dark and awful walls 
 towering abrupt on either hand, without a sound or sign of living 
 thing ; no vegetation relieved the sandy depths of the defile, except 
 the solitary acacia-tree, which, though rugged and fenced with long 
 sharp spines, by which my feet and hands have often been torn, 
 I learned to love for its delicate bright yellow blossoms, and still 
 more for their exquisitely fragrant scent, which I think unsurpassed 
 by that of any other flower, and which, especially in the Desert, 
 is worth a whole parterre. And ever beneath these solitary trees, 
 a patch of black ashes shows that here the wandering Bedouin loves 
 to pitch his fleeting camp ; its thorny branches he collects for his 
 
 * Dr. Lepsius supposes that in consequence of tlie difficulties of the Nukb 
 Buderah, tlie Israelites may have taken a circuitous tratik by the gorge of Wady 
 Sittereh into Wady Mukatteb ; probably they passed by both roads. 
 
 O
 
 42 WADY MAGHARA. 
 
 evenino- fire ; he reposes in its shade, and revels in the sweetness 
 that breathes from its perfumed though scanty foliage. Here 
 and there is seen a tuft of long wild broom, the retem, or juniper of the 
 Bible, beneath wliich, in ancient days, prophet and patriarch have 
 rested ; and to him who shall pore, in busy idleness, among the fine 
 sand, many minute plants and flowers, before overlooked, prove that 
 even here God has not left himself without a witness, sad and deso- 
 late as is the aspect of the monotonous wilderness. 
 
 But though, in penetrating these solemn defiles, one feels as if it 
 were the first time that their recesses had ever been explored, yet 
 we soon perceived that others had been before us, and had left me- 
 morials, although rude and hasty, of their brief pilgrimage : wher- 
 ever the smooth face of a rock offered the temptation, appeared some 
 of those mysterious Sinaitic characters which, till lately, had baffled 
 the research of the learned, and whose writers are even now unascer- 
 tained. It was about here that I expected to find the entrance to 
 Wady Maghara, which contains some remarkable hieroglyphics, and 
 where I had been told by Dr. Lepsius that I should see on the rocks 
 a portrait of king Cheops, the founder of the great pyramid. Such 
 a memorial, in the heart of this wilderness, might well possess a 
 mysterious attraction, and I was proportionately anxious to see it. 
 But when I asked Umbarak and my Arabs to halt at the entrance 
 of this Wady, to my utter surprise, all the answer I received was, 
 " Maghara ma fish ;" There is no Maghara ! not one of them had 
 ever heard of such a place in the entire peninsula ! 
 
 This was provoking enough ; to be in the vicinity of the most 
 interesting object of the whole route, and to miss it from the 
 stupidity of one's guide, if, indeed, it were not an affected ignorance 
 to prevent me from stopping, which I at first suspected it was, and 
 that the savoury thought of the lamb expected at Wady Feiran, upon 
 which a hungry Bedouin might feed his imagination for days before, 
 was hurrying them along, and rendering even an hour's delay insup- 
 portable. Internally I resolved that their mouths should water in 
 vain ; but I began to doubt at length, whether they really knew 
 where they were, as this is not the usual road taken by the Tor Arabs
 
 HIEROGLYPHIC HUNT. 43 
 
 from the Convent to Suez. Arriving at the mouth of a side valley, 
 which appeared to me to answer the position in the Map, I came 
 to a halt, in the midst of a scene of loud uproar, the servants 
 abusing the Arabs, and Komeh being, with some difficulty, pre- 
 vented from beating our incapable sheik, who kept on reiterating, 
 with true Arab pertinacity, " Maghara ma fish." 
 
 Here, while a second breakfast was getting ready, under the shade 
 of a rock covered with Sinaitic inscriptions, I walked up the wady, 
 looking out on the left hand for vestiges of the hieroglyphics ; but 
 having ascended for some distance without success, and being 
 uncertain of the locality, and already tired with my previous walk, I 
 returned in a furious perspiration to the rock, and was in vain 
 trying to swallow my vexation with my breakfast, when a solitary 
 Arab was descried pacing down the valley : we hailed him, and 
 speedily found that here was an end of " Maghara ma fish" — we 
 were in the wady, after all, and he could conduct us to the place 
 " all the travellers went to see." 
 
 Accordingly, taking Ibrahim, with a zemzemia and portfolio, in 
 a somewhat better mood, but yet very tired, we regained the same 
 spot where I had turned back, and then commenced a ten minutes* 
 clamber up the left-hand rocks, very difficult and almost inaccessible : 
 the sun beat fiercely upon them ; the perspiration rolled down my 
 face in streams, and I drank desperately from the water-bottle, at the 
 risk of dropping dead. At length we stood under the shadow of Avhat 
 appeared to be the mouth of the mine, nearly choked up with drift- 
 sand ; and the Arab, with sparkling eyes, pointed to the rocks, and 
 intimated that it was there, and with a look intended to be sub- 
 missive and fascinating, was just beginning to articulate " back- 
 shish ;" when, with ugly misgivings and in my loudest tones, I de- 
 manded the hieroglyphics. Vacantly he shook his head ; but 
 Ibrahim, by a roundabout process, explaining that I was looking for 
 something chiselled in the rock, he suddenly remembered, tapped me 
 on tlie shoulder, and making us leap down, with extreme difficulty, 
 into the mouth of the cave, he pointed exultingly to some half-dozen 
 marks in the roof, evidently made by the miners ; and at that
 
 44 COPPER-MINES IN WADY MAGHARA. 
 
 moment felt, no doubt, the piastres gliding sweetly into his leathern 
 pouch. But his wishes were not met in the way he expected : " The 
 hieroglyphics, the hieroglyphics, I" I faintly screamed ; " Ma fish, 
 ma fish,'' he doggedly replied. Mad with vexation, I uttered a 
 loud and piteous groan of disappointment ; and Ibrahim, seizing a 
 huo-e frao-ment of rock, which mig-ht have served one of Homer's 
 heroes, in uncontrollable fury, sent it thundering at his head ; in 
 dodging to avoid it, the poor fellow cut his foot, and came out hop- 
 ping and limping, and striving, in vain, with an exhibition of his 
 bleeding limb, to turn the edge of our wrath. But the provocation 
 was unique ; and at half a hint from me, the furious Egyptian would 
 have brained him where he stood, and left his ill-omened carcase to 
 be disputed by the hyaenas and vultures. I worked off my excite- 
 ment by abusing him freely ; but by the time we got down again I 
 was spent, and felt as if I could have sunk into the sand. And had 
 it then come to this, that after a double attempt and all this fatigue, 
 I was to go away without seeing the face of old Cheops after all ? 
 Thus muttering I advanced mechanically a few paces higher up the 
 valley, the Arab still shaking his head, and the eternal " Ma fish" 
 still ringing in my ears, when lo I perched up within a hundred yards 
 of the very spot we had gained at the risk of our necks, yet concealed 
 from thence by some rocky projections, behold the large sculptured 
 tablets, with numerous figures, grinning down at us, as it were, like 
 Efrits, and asking whether we would like to come up again and have 
 a look at them, or whether we had got enough of hieroglyphic 
 hunting already ! And truly, at that moment, I almost wished 
 they had never existed. Ibrahim groaned when he beheld them, 
 and casting a withering look at the delinquent Arab, followed 
 me once more up the rocks ; and by the time we had reached the 
 tablets our last drop of water was gone ; and not one of the wretched 
 miners who laboured four thousand years ago in the adjacent cavern, 
 could have been more utterly exhausted than ourselves. 
 
 So much time had been lost in this exciting and fatiguing 
 chase, that it was now high noon, and although sheltered by an 
 umbrella, I could not long have endured the heat upon the shade-
 
 ;x%
 
 TABLETS IN WADT MAGHARA. 45 
 
 less rocks, which must apologize for the unquestionably imperfect 
 manner in which I have copied these very curious and remarkable 
 tablets. I looked at them with a feeling which more than repaid 
 me for my previous chagrin and toil. It seemed wonderful, and 
 almost incredible, to find here, in so distant a spot, high up on the 
 side of the mountain, sculptured records of so remote an antiquity, 
 the principal part of them being in a fair state of preservation ; and 
 by the precision, and even spirit, of their style, testifying to the 
 high civilization of Egypt, at a period when the utmost limits of the 
 historical, recedes into the fabulous and mysterious obscurity of un- 
 recorded time. 
 
 The principal tablet (represented in the engraving) is in far 
 better preservation than the rest, owing, apparently, to the shelter 
 of the adjacent piece of rock. It stands at some height from the 
 gi-ound beneath ; and, there is no doubt, was accessible by a path from 
 the mouth of the cavern before mentioned, which was, probably, the 
 entrance to the copper-mine, once worked by a colony of Egyptians, 
 like that in the neighbourhood of Sarabut el Khadim. It represents 
 the conquest of the surrounding country by an early Egyptian king, 
 whose name appears on the cartouche, or oval ; the word " Tau," 
 hieroglyphically written by the hand, bird, and crowns on each 
 side of the principal actor, signifying mountain lands, and the con- 
 queror's title, Lord of Battles, given (or gifted) with life for ever, 
 appearing in the other emblems. The three figures are different 
 personifications of the same hero, and it is remarkable that the 
 centre one bears the double crown, i. e., of the upper and lower 
 Egyptian kingdoms, proving that Thebes, at this early period, was 
 under the Memphite monarchs. Some part is defaced, but might 
 possibly be made out by a good Egyptian scholar on closer examina- 
 tion. Enough, however, is here presented to give the reader a fair 
 idea of the general character and import of the principal tablet. 
 
 On a line with this are others, but far more broken and decayed ; 
 and of these I profess only to give a very general idea. The first 
 represents Suphis, Chofo, or Kneph Chofo, also in the act of beating 
 down an enemy ; while Thoth, the god of writing, stands by with a
 
 46 TABLETS IN WADl MAQHAKA. 
 
 dog-head sceptre. In the left-hand corner, above the king, was what 
 I conjecture to be au eagle, much defaced, significative of Pro- 
 vidence : the title on the left of the cartouche is " Priest." Beyond 
 the intervening partition, on which are some defaced hieroglyphics, 
 is another tablet, with a cartouche of a king, and similar hieroglyphic 
 titles. The cartouche of Sup his is the same as that in the great 
 pyramid, of which he was the builder. 
 
 Tablet No. 3, is a similar subject, bearing the cartouche of an 
 unplaced king, with the usual titles, armed with the mace, (which 
 appears in all the tablets to be the weapon used,) holding, either 
 by the hair, or, perhaps, by an ornamental head-dress, a bearded 
 opponent, — the usual mode of depicting the Asiatic enemies of the 
 Egyptians : over the standard appears a double crown. 
 
 Besides these, there are others, of later date, which I could not, 
 under my circumstances of exhaustion, fully examine. To the 
 practised eye of an Egyptian antiquary I doubt not that Wady 
 Maghara would prove an important subject of examination, no less 
 than the temple and monuments of Sarabut el Khadim,* on the 
 upper road to Sinai. Both indeed were visited by Dr. Lepsius. 
 
 Is it not almost too marvellous for belief that these tablets existed 
 before the Exodus of the Israelites, when Moses, with all his host, 
 actually passed, beyond question, down the valley Mokatteb, or a short 
 distance below, on his way towards Wady Feiran and Sinai ? They 
 must be regarded, I presume, as among the most ancient sculptm-es 
 in the world ; and yet it is evident that when they were executed 
 the arts were by no means in their infancy, but that centuries, at 
 least, had elapsed since their unknown and remote origin. 
 
 In a state of great exhaustion we reached the bed of the valley. 
 We proceeded to regain our camels, jesting at our guide, and parry- 
 
 * This is not far hence, but by a very diflScuIt path. Dr. Lepsius seems to 
 have explained all the mystery that has so long hung over this place ; the up- 
 right monuments, similar to tombs, being, according to him, stete, or tablets, 
 somewhat similar in import to those just described : he also remarked wliat 
 escaped other travellers, viz . the immense quantity of ore heaped up about 
 tlie place. This, as well as Wady Maghara, was a mining colony of the 
 Egyptians
 
 
 
 
 
 '^^ 
 
 T):?^#^li 
 
 .r>-^^. 
 
 :<^JW.^^^. . / ^V >5^^ 
 
 
 
 _j^. ^ 
 
 
 iA':
 
 WADY MOKATTEB — SINAITIC WRITINGS. 
 
 47 
 
 ing his insinuating appeals for backshish, by asking what he meant 
 to give us for quahfying him as a cicerone. In answer to this he put 
 forth his foot, which was but little hurt ; and with a small present 
 we dismissed him happy and contented. We had now the laugh 
 against our stupid sheik ; and as we proceeded towards Wady 
 Mokatteb, ironically twitted him with " Maghara ma fish," till he 
 was fain to drop in the rear, quite crest-fallen, whilst Ibrahim re- 
 tailed our disasters in the wady to the great amusement of the 
 lively Arabs. 
 
 In a short time after leaving the mouth of Wady Maghara the 
 valley expands into a small plain, and again suddenly contracts : it 
 is here, on the right-hand rocks, that the largest collection of the 
 Sinaitic writings is to be found ; they occur, indeed, in very con- 
 siderable quantity, and must have been the work of a large body of 
 men. Wady Mokatteb is the name given to the spot. 
 
 The drawing wiU convey a correct idea both of the characters and 
 of the rude attempts to pourtray camels, and other animals— perfectly
 
 48 ORIGIN OF THE SINAITIC WRITINGS. 
 
 childish efforts, and widely different from the finished works of 
 Egyptian art that we had just been inspecting. As far as their 
 quantity and frequent occurrence on this lower road to Sinai may be 
 taken in evidence, it would certainly appear that Wady Feiran was 
 far more frequented than Sinai itself ; but whether ]\Iount Serbal 
 was, at the period of their execution, considered to be the real 
 Horeb, we are, perhaps, not sufficiently advanced in the study 
 of these mysterious inscriptions to decide ; the presumption in 
 favour of such a supposition certainly appears very strong. 
 
 I have already alluded to the obscurity that still appears to hang 
 over the origin of these inscriptions. They were first, as Eobinson 
 informs us, mentioned about A. d. 535, by Cosmas, who supposed 
 them to be the work of the ancient Hebrews ; and even states that 
 certain Jews, who had read them, had explained them to him as 
 noting the " journey of such an one, out of such a tribe, on such a 
 year and month ;" just as even now, on the road to Mecca, similar 
 inscriptions are to be seen, the work of Moslem pilgrims. This 
 view was afterwards taken by Clayton, Bishop of Clogher, in 1753 ; 
 but without any one being as yet able to decipher the writings. It 
 is but quite lately that Professor Beer, of Leipsic, after laborious 
 study, has been able to do this: he pronounces them to be of 
 Christian origin, — probably the work of pilgrims to ]\Iount Sinai. 
 Christian monograms and crosses, as well as Greek inscriptions 
 demonstrably older, as Dr. Lepsius affirms, tend to prove this. The 
 peculiar character itself approximates most nearly to the Cufic, and 
 is supposed by Beer to have appertained to the language for- 
 merly spoken by the Nabathajans of Petra, and other parts of the 
 peninsula, (afterwards superseded by the Arabic,) and of which these 
 inscriptions are almost the only existing traces. Dr. Lepsius agi'ees 
 with Professor Beer as to the nature of the inscriptions, but regards 
 them as the work of a Christian pastoral people, and not of mere 
 passing pilgrims ; an opinion seemingly borne out by their number, 
 their often elaborate, though rude, character, and the remote spots 
 in which they are sometimes met with. It is somewhat sin- 
 gular that there should be so many of them at this particular place ;
 
 ORIGIN OF THE SINAITIC WRITINGS. 49 
 
 and some could only have been executed by means of a lad- 
 der, or, at least, by clambering up the face of the rocks. They 
 occur hence continually, though at intervals, all the way to Wady 
 Feu-an, and up to the very top of the Serbal : there are also several 
 on the upper road to Sinai which, doubtless, also originally led to 
 Feiran ; but there is scarcely an instance about Mount Sinai itself, 
 and none whatever upon that mountain ; nor, with a single ex- 
 ception at Petra, have any been as yet met with anywhere else 
 in the peninsula, which is, to say the least, most singular. 
 
 The opinion of the German scholars is now pretty generally em- 
 braced ; yet some recur to the old theory, that the inscriptions are in 
 reality the work of the Israelites during their sojourn in the wilder- 
 ness. The Rev. Mr. Forster, well known as the author of a work 
 on the " Arabians," is, it is said, now engaged in an elaborate essay 
 on the subject of this and other obscure inscriptions throughout the 
 world. He is said to have translated more than a hundred of the 
 inscriptions — records of various incidents in the Exodus. The 
 one in this character, in the quarries of Toura, near Cairo, whence 
 the pyramids were built, alluded to by Robinson, but of which 
 Lepsius seems to doubt the existence, is said to be a complaint 
 of the Israelites during their cruel toils in Egypt : wonderful indeed, 
 if true ! 
 
 The irregular jagged peaks of Mount Serbal rose upon us soon 
 after leaving Wady Maghara, in passing across an irregular table- 
 land ; and from no point does it present itself with more imposing 
 grandeur, in a stem and desolate region — the most stem, lonely, 
 and apparently inaccessible, no mountain in the peninsula can com- 
 pare with it. From this high land we descended by a somewhat 
 rugged pass into Wady Feiran, the great drain of all this part of 
 the peninsula, descending hence to the Red Sea. From the Wilder- 
 ness of Sin, as before remarked, the Israelites might possibly have 
 advanced by the sea and up this valley ; but more probably by the 
 shorter and more mountainous road we had pursued from Wady 
 Shellal ; and thus, at the junction of these two roads, we were 
 again, to a certainty, upon their track. We encamped in the middle
 
 50 DESOLATION OF THE WILDERNESS. 
 
 of the wady, which here presents none of that fertility which it 
 displays higher up. 
 
 October 8. On our way early ; the Bedouins stimulated by the 
 savom-y anticipation of the promised lamb, and I by the expectation 
 of meeting with the finest scenery in the peninsula. Several hours 
 passed, however, before any signs appeared of that verdure for which 
 our souls longed even " as a hart for the waterbrooks ; '' for it is impos- 
 sible to convey any idea of the feeling of utter weariness that grows 
 upon the solitary wanderer, as day by day he penetrates farther into 
 the heart of this great and terrible wilderness, as ravine succeeds to 
 ravine, each more forsaken and desolate than the last, with its bed 
 of sand or gravel, overhung with mountains, which, in their con- 
 vulsed forms, their bald and awful abruptness, their arid colouring 
 of brown, black, white, red, and yellow, glaring eternally under the same 
 fiery sun, seem like a portion of some early world untenanted by 
 man, some blasted planet visited in the wildness of our dreams, where 
 human foot has never trodden, and human life has neither object 
 nor subsistence. The mechanical and silent footfall of the camel, 
 pacing noiselessly from morn to night among the voiceless crags, 
 lulls us, in the absence of all external signs of life, into a state of 
 reverie, sometimes humorous, sometimes sad, which is not without 
 its charms ; Laborde says that he was unwillingly aroused from its 
 fascinations. The mind falls back upon itself, and delights to recall 
 the events, in all their vividness, of that early period when the 
 Israelitish host threaded these weary defiles — to represent to itself 
 every incident of their toilsome march, and the feeling of horror and 
 amazement that must have daunted their spirits, as they felt them- 
 selves transported from verdant Egypt into the heart of a solitude, of 
 which we may indeed say, 
 
 " So lonely 't is, that God himself 
 Scarce seemeth there to be :" 
 
 Or, it may be, glancing to its own recollections, the memory awakens, 
 in preternatural vividness, or painful intensity, passages of old joys 
 and sorrows, which have long slept amidst the din and movement of
 
 APPKOACH TO WADY FEIRAN. 51 
 
 an active life, which is here cut off ; burdens again the soul with the 
 pressure 
 
 " Of that weight which it would cast 
 Aside for ever ; " 
 
 or binds it, during these solitary hours, as upon a wheel of fire, 
 to the torture of those uneasy thoughts, which, like evil spirits, 
 delight to visit us in solitude. 
 
 But a sudden change awaited us ; about noon, at a turn of the 
 road, the scene that burst upon us was more like the dream of a 
 poet, than any reality in this arid wilderness. The cliffs on either 
 hand still towered, bare and perpendicular, to an immense height ; 
 but instead of a gravelly valley, collecting and condensing the fiery 
 rays of the sun, arose, as by enchantment, tufted groves of palm 
 and fruit trees, producing on my mind a more vivid impression 
 of romantic luxuriance than had been left by anything I had yet 
 beheld in the East. Highly as my expectations had been raised, 
 they were more than sustained by this startling and singular scenery. 
 This entrance of the valley of Feiran is called El Hesue, and is sup- 
 posed by Dr. Lepsius to be the Rephidim of Moses, on which I 
 shall offer some remarks further on. Proceeding further, this rich 
 vegetation almost ceases, till, in about half-an-hour, we approached 
 the old city of Feiran. Some time before arriving there, the atten- 
 tion is attracted by the ruins of a deserted town on the left-hand 
 side of the valley, and afterwards by a multitude of those singular 
 living graves, as they may well be termed, which were once tenanted 
 by the hermit-population of this valley. They consist of small 
 natural orifices, or artificial excavations, with a flat stone nearly 
 covering the top, just large enough for a single tenant, and re- 
 sembling more the lair of the wild beast than the abode of human 
 beings : they are scattered, in great numbers, over the surrounding 
 mountains. 
 
 The hoary ruins of the old convent now appeared on a low spur 
 of mountain, just where Wady Aleyat, coming down from the 
 Serbal, opens up a noble view of its stupendous cliffs. We passed 
 on, and in a few minutes struck upon a stream of running water,
 
 52 ENCAMPMENT IN AVADY FEIRAN. 
 
 purling through an overhanging covert of Turfeh, or " manna- 
 trees ; " following this, we were in a few moments beneath the 
 shade of that unequalled verdure which extends far up the narrow 
 valley of Feiran. 
 
 One of the great pleasures of wandering about with a tent, in a 
 settled climate, is the power it gives you of cultivating a closer 
 intimacy with nature, of halting when and where you Will : 
 wherever the aspect of the place best strikes your fancy, you can 
 raise your temporary home without let or hinderance ; under the 
 group of trees, or by the sheltering rock whose physiognomy best 
 pleases you, and where, from your canvass door, you open the finest 
 view. On the edge of this palm-forest nature had already prepare! 
 a halting-place for the lonely and worn visitor of her most hidden 
 haunts, and among the infinite variety of her fanciful creations, few 
 coidd be more wild or marvellous than this. 
 
 Here, in the heart of that terrible wilderness of rock and sand, of 
 the stunted bush and nauseous scanty pool, I pitched my tent 
 beneath a tall group of palms, which bent shelteringly over it : the 
 spring coming down the valley, and rippling among green sedges, 
 formed a small transparent basin at the foot of a fragment of lime- 
 stone rock, Tallen from the mountain-wall above ; a beautiful na- 
 tural altar, as it were, decorated with the light pensile foliage of 
 overhanging turfeh-trees. The camels, relieved of their burdens, 
 after drinking their fill, were scattered about the bowery thickets. 
 cropping the thick blossom with avidity and unusual relish ; whilst 
 the Arabs spread among the shady trees, revelling in the choicest 
 beauty of their Desert home, the proverbial " paradise of the 
 Bedouins." 
 
 The palms beneath which I encamped were not the solitary orna- 
 ment of a small oasis ; but the outskirts of a dense grove, extending 
 for miles far up the narrow valley. On stepping out of my tent 
 I was at once in the midst of an almost tropical wilderness. 
 In the palm-groves of Egypt the stems are trimmed and straight, 
 and placed generally at regular intervals ; but here this most grace- 
 ful of trees, is half untended, its boughs spring direct from the earth,

 
 THE PALM-FOREST. 53 
 
 and form tufts and avenues, and dense overarching thickets of the 
 most luxuriant growth, through which the sunlight falls tremblingly 
 upon the shaded turf. Among them some few, shooting upright, 
 lift high above the rest their lovely coronal of rustling fans and 
 glowing bunches of dates ; but the greater part assume that 
 fantastic variety of form which only untended nature can originate ; 
 some, wildly throwing forth their branches, droop to the ground like 
 heavy plumes, laden with a graceful burden of fan-like boughs 
 which almost kiss the turf ; others, crossing and intertwined, form 
 mazy alleys of exquisite verdure : the clear stream bubbles freshly 
 on the edge of these arcades, and the deep solitude is vocal with the 
 song of birds ; the wind, sweeping down the rocks, plays over the 
 rustling foliage with the gentlest murmur ; and shut in by two 
 lofty walls of rock from the dreary Desert without, the traveller, 
 lulled in a dreamy and delicious repose, heightened by his past 
 weariness, forgets awhile its perils and privations, and the long dis- 
 tance he has yet to accomplish across its drouthy sands. 
 
 Among these groves the Bedouins of the valley have erected a 
 few rude huts, and cultivate gardens of fig and pomegranate and 
 acacia, which intermingle their foliage with the predominant palm ; 
 they also raise tobacco and a little com. At this period most of 
 them were absent in the mountains around. 
 
 I lingered so long amono; these thickets, that when I returned to 
 my tent under the palm-trees, Komeh and Ibrahim had prepared 
 dinner ; after which I had the afternoon to explore the neighbourhood. 
 I had been struck on my approach with the appearance of a 
 conical-shaped mountain on the side of the valley, exactly opposite 
 the old city, with remains of buildings on its sides and summit ; and, 
 on inquiry, found that there were still steps cut in the rock by 
 which I could ascend, and, besides investigating these buildings, 
 survey the environs of the old city to advantage. A guide was 
 soon obtained, and in a few minutes we reached the foot of the 
 ascent, which, by means of a circuitous path, once carefully built 
 up, is by no means difficult. This hill seemed to have been a place 
 of pilgrimage. The first building we came to was a small church or
 
 54 
 
 RUINED CHAPELS. 
 
 chapel, placed on a terrace ; the walls of rude stone are still tolerably 
 entire, and some of the broken columns are of good workmanship. 
 
 Following upwards the rocky path, we soon reached a second and 
 smaller edifice, with a well of excellent water ; and soon after a 
 third small church and offices, which picturesquely crown the 
 craggy summit of the mountain. The view hence was so mag- 
 nificent, and will so well explain the controversy respecting the site 
 of the real Sinai and the scene of the lawgiving, that I will here 
 introduce and briefly describe it. 
 
 The engraving presents to the eye, more clearly than words can, 
 the position of the ancient convent and church of Feiran, on a 
 singular peninsula-like spur of the mountain, projecting into the 
 middle of the wady, and rearing itself, like the crest of a wave, 
 above its level : on this, the most commanding point, appear the 
 ruins of what were probably the principal buildings ; and fragments 
 of others are seen on different parts of the hill. In the centre, 
 within a small enclosure, are a few capitals, once forming part of 
 the church. Running up from the city towards Mount Serbal, is the 
 Wady Aleyat : this, unlike Feiran, is, for the most part, a scene of 
 utter desolation ; a wild broad bed of stones and rocks, through 
 which the torrents from the mountain sweep down the valley and 
 round the base of the city, leaving the rich deposit of earth in the 
 upper part of Wady Feiran undisturbed. Two small patches of 
 verdure, nourished by springs, may, however, be discerned far up its
 
 \*U'^^ 
 
 ■v>«^''^i:ii#^L:n 

 
 SERBAL THE REAL SINAI. 65 
 
 course. The magnificent range of the Serbal is seen here to the 
 greatest advantage : it shoots up in numerous rocky peaks, which, 
 on a nearer approach, appear isolated from each other, and present, 
 as Olin has described it, the appearance of a gigantic stalactite 
 inverted ; — the peak to which I ascended is in a line directly above 
 the remains of the little church. In the foreground of the view is 
 part of the remains of the chapel : the deserted ruins of the old 
 town are seen hanging on the side of the mountain on the left ; and 
 the little stream, after spreading fertility through the valley above, 
 is seen coming down towards the city, near which it is lost in the 
 sand. * A vast number of the cells before described are seen 
 scattered about on the sides of the mountains round the city. 
 
 There is no spot where we may more fitly consider the theory, 
 occasionally suggested long since, and lately brought forward with 
 confidence, after a careful survey of all the sites, by Dr. Lepsius, 
 that the Serbal is indeed the " Mount of God," whence the law was 
 promidgated with the awful accompanying phenomena described 
 in the Exodus. It will be my object in the following remarks 
 accompanied as they are by illustrations which display every feature 
 of the disputed localities, to enable the reader to judge for himself 
 on this subject, in the discussion of which it will be evident that 
 much depends on the alternative laid down in the preliminary 
 remarks on the subject of the Exodus, viz., whether we are to regard 
 the whole train of circumstances as miraculous from beginning to 
 end ; or adopt, on the other hand, a rationalist interpretation, and 
 consider the Bible account as a legendary or mythical amphfication 
 of a slender historical foundation. 
 
 If we adopt the latter alternative, or even endeavour to reconcile 
 ourselves to the received, but, as already suggested, very difficult 
 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 
 
 * At the period of my visit. Dr. Lepsius describes it as running down at an 
 earlier season to El Hesue.
 
 56 SERBAL THE REAL SINAI. 
 
 even probably dwelt in the vicinity of Wady Feiran during his 
 banishment from Egypt ; but even common report, as at the present 
 day, would point to this favoured locality as the only fit spot, in the 
 whole rano-e 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 Wady 
 Feiran, and of its being also, in all probability, from early times, a 
 place visited by trading caravans. But if Moses were even un- 
 acquainted 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 
 beino- disputed, and from which Moses must, of necessity, have 
 souo-ht 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 lawgiving is here before our eyes in its wild 
 and lonely majesty. 
 
 The principal objection to this is on the following ground— that
 
 OBJECTIONS. 
 
 57 
 
 there is no open space in the immediate neigh'-oourhood 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 sup- 
 poses, principally for that reason, the law to have been given. But 
 is 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 precincts of the holy 
 solitude. Although these conditions are more literally fulfilled at 
 Er Rahah, yet, if we understand 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, will 
 
 show the reader, that the main encampment of the host must have 
 been in Wady Feiran itself, from which the summit of the Serbal is 
 only here and there visible, and that it is by the lateral Wady 
 Aleyat 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 encamp- 
 ment of any great number of people, if they were all in tents : 
 
 I
 
 58 WADY ALEYAT. 
 
 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 suiTounding valleys. I do 
 not know that there is any adequate ground for believing, as Robin- 
 son does, that because the people were warned not to invade the 
 seclusion of the mount, and a guard was placed to prevent them from 
 doino" so, that therefore the encam'pment 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 Wady Aleyat, near the base of the mountain, 
 to whom the injunction would more especially apply. Those, how- 
 ever, who press closely the literal sense of one or two passages, should 
 bear in mind all the difficulties previously cited, and the absolute des- 
 titution of verdure, cultivation, running streams, and even of abun- 
 dant springs, which characterise the fearfully barren vicinity of the 
 monkish Sinai, where there is indeed room and verge enough for en- 
 campment, hut no resources whatever. If we take up the ground of a 
 continual and miraculous provision for all the grants of two mil- 
 lions 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. 
 
 Thus much in reference to this question generally. But when 
 we enter into details the result is less satisfactory ; indeed, we can- 
 not but be astonished that Dr. Lepsius, professing an implicit 
 belief in the historical character of the Bible narrative, should fix 
 the site of Rephidim at the entrance of the valley at El Hesue. 
 The statement in Exodus is, that the Israelites, after their march 
 from the wells and palm-trees of Elim through the Desert of Sin, 
 (on which route there are no springs at the present day, unless 
 scanty, and remote from the road,) murmured, when encamped at 
 Rephidim, for want of water, where Moses was directed to strike
 
 EEPHIDIM. 59 
 
 the rock in Horeb, whence a stream gushed forth to meet the necessi- 
 ties of the perishing host. This is evidently intended to describe 
 a miracle, but Dr. Lepsius, as stated above, places the site of Rephi- 
 dim at El Hesue, a fertile spot, as he correctly states, watered by the 
 spring which comes down from the upper part of Wady Feiran, 
 and where it suddenly disappears in a cleft of the rocks ; besides 
 which there is, though not noticed by him, a well among the palm- 
 trees. If this was the site of the encampment, how then could the 
 Israelites have murmured while there, for want of water, since a sup- 
 ply existed on the spot ? Would they not, on the contrary, have been 
 enraptured, as every one who has tracked this terrible wilderness is 
 also, at finding unexpectedly a bright and gushing stream spring up 
 beneath his feet ? One is really at a loss to understand what Dr. 
 Lepsius means in calling the discovery of this water by the Israel- 
 ites a "wonderful event;" here he clearly abandons the text en- 
 tirely, throws aside Moses and his rod, and converts what is 
 obviously intended to be a miracle into a merely natural occurrence, 
 which he affirms at the same time to have been " the most glorious 
 gift of God to a thirsty multitude, which must have made a deeper 
 impression upon them than anything else could have done." 
 
 From El Hesue, at the entrance of Wady Feiran, Dr. Lepsius 
 supposes that the Israelites advanced, unopposed, as far as to the 
 spot before tis in the view, viz. — to the mount on which the 
 convent stood, which Moses, Aaron, and Hur, and the Israelites, 
 or part of them, ascended ; whence they rushed down upon 
 the Amalekites, who were posted in the valley beneath. A 
 glance at the position \\ill serve to show how improbable is all 
 this. If the Amalekites intended to defend the Wady Feiran, 
 they would surely have posted themselves on a vantage ground at 
 its entry, beloio El Hesue, and before their fainting enemies had 
 reached the rich well-watered oasis ; but to suifer them to advance 
 unmolested and refreshed up to the middle of the vaUey, and then 
 to take possession of that post for aggression, which they them- 
 selves should have selected for the purpose of defence, viz., the 
 commanding height of the convent mount, is utterly incomprehen-
 
 60 RUINS OF FEIRAN. 
 
 sible, unless, wliicli is nowhere afiirmed, the Israelites had pre- 
 viously repulsed the Amalekites, and forced them to retire further up 
 the valley. But to obviate these difficulties, and at the same time 
 maintain the miraculous sense of Scripture, we must suppose, that 
 on their approach the Israelites encamped in the barren part of 
 Wady Feiran, where they were distressed for water, and where the 
 miracle was wrought by Moses striking the rock ; and that on the 
 following day, when thus refreshed, they encountered the Amalekites, 
 who would naturally post themselves at the entry of the valley, 
 probably enough at or near El Hesue, where there is a remarkable 
 bend in its course ; and that after routing them, they advanced up 
 to and took possession of the whole region, where they remained en- 
 camped during the period occupied by the promulgation of the law. 
 
 I descended from these ruinous chapels into the valley, and 
 clambered up into the area of the small city of Feiran : the prin- 
 cipal buildings, probably monastic, range along the brink of the 
 cliff overlooking the valley, a beautiful site. Near the centre of 
 the city are a few scattered capitals belong-ing to the chui'ch, and 
 its last vestiges. The shades of evening were fast falling as I sat 
 upon a block of stone in this area, and looked around, in the perfect 
 stillness, upon the prostrate walls of the city and the surrounding 
 mountains, with their fallen chapels and ascetic caverns. There is 
 something mournful, almost awful, indeed, in thus beholding the 
 memorials of an obliterated Christianity, however corrupt or super- 
 stitious : here at least once arose the thrilling hymn of praise ; 
 and these dark and void cells had once a human interest, and were 
 irradiated with the heaven-directed hopes and ecstatic visions of 
 the forlorn recluses. But all this has long passed away. Mazriki, 
 who wrote in the fifteenth century, (cited by Burckhardt,) says that 
 in his day the Bedouins alone passed there ; there must, however, 
 have been once a considerable Christian population, as Theodosius 
 was Bishop of Feiran, at the time of the Monothelite controversy. 
 When or how it originated is obscure, as well as at what period it was 
 supplanted by the Arabs. Few and scanty indeed are the notices of 
 the place, whose original settlement is nevertheless coeval, in all pro-
 
 NIGHT SCENE AT FEIEAN. 61 
 
 bability, with its fertility : it is supposed to have been of old a trading 
 station of the Tyrians, between Ailah and Tur, on the Red Sea. 
 
 If ever I wished that certain of my friends could by some magic 
 process peep down upon me, in my Desert wanderings, it was on the 
 night after I returned to my tent : the last red light of day had faded 
 and given place to the silvery radiance of the moon ; her orb rose 
 grandly above the eastern peaks of the Serbal ; meanwhile the Arabs, 
 crouching in the adjoining thickets, had kindled a fire, which, glaring 
 up into the palm-gToves, lit up from beneath then* fan-like branches, 
 every spine glittering in the ruddy illumination with a most magical 
 splendour. I wandered away through the groves, to revel in the 
 strange effects thus produced among their tangled alleys by the fitful 
 play of the flames, and the flitting to and fro of the figures ; then 
 followed down the spring tiU beyond the reach of their influence, 
 and where aU was again lying in the still calm moonlight — the 
 rivulet, the rocky altar, the hoary walls of old Feiran, and the 
 solemn amphitheatre of mountains which enclose this oasis of beauty 
 from the world beyond. A spiritual presence seemed brooding over 
 the scene, and filled the heart with a deep but uneasy bliss ; it was 
 too profound, too wonderful, to be enough enjoyed : it seemed as if 
 I could have wandered for ever about this enchanting ground. But 
 enough of this vain attempt to describe the indescribably romantic 
 Feiran ; suffice it to say, that one night and its impressions were 
 worth my whole journey. 
 
 October 10. The sharp conical precipices of the Serbal seem at a 
 distance to defy all attempts to scale them ; yet, knowing that Burck- 
 hardt and others had succeeded, and supposing there might be a path- 
 way similar to that made by the monks of Sinai, and by which the 
 ascent of Djebel Musa is rendered so easy, I engaged a guide, and 
 at an early hour left the encampment, accompanied by Komeh, 
 with some cold provisions and the indispensable zemzemia. The 
 path on leaving Wady Feiran follows the Wady Aleyat, and for 
 some distance is tolerably easy, but becomes gradually more and 
 more rugged as it ascends towards the base of the mountain ; yet it 
 was evidently an old way, formerly frequented, as appeared from the
 
 62 ASCENT OF THE SERBAL. 
 
 ruined buildings, and the JSmaitic characters which we now and then 
 found scratched on any convenient block of stone. The bed of this 
 wady, as I have before remarked, is very rugged, and could with 
 difficulty have served as a camping ground for the Israelites, save on 
 a very limited scale : there are two beautiful springs to relieve its 
 sterility ; one was deep below us ; but the second, or upper one, lay 
 directly in our course. The foliage, as at Feiran, is exquisitely 
 beautiful around this upper spring ; the water welling out from it 
 is colder and purer than that of the stream below : probably a small 
 hermitage or monastic establishment once existed here. Hence 
 the isolated peaks of the Serbal tower up with awful magnificence, 
 and seemingly defy the most adventurous. We fell in with an old 
 Arab, who cultivates a few vegetables, and who proposed to ac- 
 company us on our ascent ; a civility we acknowledged by a trifling 
 backshish, but proceeded without him : — all path soon after ceased, 
 and our course hence to the base of the mountain was over a wilder- 
 ness of loose blocks, which it was no easy matter to cross without 
 slipping, yet still we occasionally found the Sinaitic characters in- 
 scribed upon them. So rugged was the way, that though but a 
 single hour had elapsed since we left Feiran, I felt almost com- 
 pletely tired when we reached the foot of the conical precipices, 
 wliich rise sheer and abnipt from this scene of desolation. The only 
 possible means of ascent is up a narrow and almost perpendicular 
 chasm, dividing two of these impracticable peaks, half-filled with 
 huge crags fallen from above, and hurled one upon another in the 
 most terrific confusion : to get to the top seemed to me impossible ; 
 the guide, however, assured us there was no difficulty : with this we 
 began to scramble up the chasm ; and in half-an-hour we reached a 
 wild fig-tree, beneath which our Arab guide concealed his gun and 
 cloak. To his sandalled foot the ascent seemed easy ; he skipped 
 up among the loose blocks like the wild goat of his native moun- 
 tains, familiar with every footstep ; but to myself the clamber, though 
 I had practised pretty well among the Alps, seemed so desperately 
 toilsome, and so increasingly dangerous as we advanced, that but for 
 the resolution of Komeh, who seemed determined to have me to the
 
 
 ,>^ CMmu. 
 
 fram tie vnler of :Vlc>'Ol
 
 SUMMIT OF THE SERBAL. 
 
 63 
 
 summit, I should have flinched and gone back again. We were ex- 
 posed to the fierce sunbeams of an Arabian noon ; there were no 
 steps to assist us, and hardly the faintest trace of a path, though one 
 had evidently formerly existed ; we had besides to climb up on our 
 hands and knees great part of the way, in imminent peril of slipping 
 down the polished surface of the fallen crags which we were sur- 
 mounting, and of being dashed to pieces among those below. The 
 fatigue of thus trailing like serpents up the face of the ascent was 
 excessive ; the higher we mounted, the mere terrifically the mountain 
 seemed to rear itself above, and if getting up seemed barely possible, 
 descending again seemed perfectly hopeless. At length, after spend- 
 ing about three hours in this manner we reached the summit, 
 consisting of round smooth masses of granite, which it required the 
 greatest attention to get over without slipping. Trembhng in 
 every nerve with the violent exertion, we sat down under a huge 
 block, surmounting one of those conical peaks, which at a distance 
 had seemed to me utterly inaccessible to all but the eagle and the 
 gazelle. A cold wind swept across, which threatened to bear us off 
 our legs, and appeared well able to take us fairly across the bound- 
 less Desert, and drop us on the hills of Palestine : we took shelter 
 
 behind the topmost block of granite, on which is a Sinaitic 
 inscription ; and upon a small heap of stones we sat us down and 
 devoured with eager relish a cold fowl, which, each holding by a leg, 
 we speedily tore into pieces ; and while engaged in this operation
 
 64 THE SERBAL. 
 
 canght sight of a newspaper, carefully an'anged between two frag- 
 ments, so as not to blow away ; it proved to be an old number of 
 the Allgemeine Zeitung, with the name, of H. Abekeu. Ingolstadt, 
 an associate of Dr Lepsius, who had preceded us to the summit 
 not long before. 1 wrote my name under his, and restored it to its 
 place : it will be long enough, I dare say, ere the list of adventurers 
 reaches the bottom of the page. 
 
 Of the view from this mountain I despair of giving the reader 
 any adequate idea. As before described, it consists of several conical 
 peaks, set upon a mighty ridge, and perfectly isolated from one 
 another : we stood on the top of one of these, a rounded edge of 
 polished granite, dangerously shelving down, from which the preci- 
 pice, on either hand of us, sunk sheer two thousand feet below. We 
 could not see the chasm by which we ascended ; but looked across it 
 to the other peaks, all consisting of similar terrific masses of 
 granite, wildly upthrown from beneath by some awful convulsion, 
 each capped with a similarly rounded weatherbeaten summit, and 
 each with the same precipitous sides. The appearance of the moun- 
 tain itself was fearfully sublime, and the view from it, except where 
 its intervening crags formed an impediment, all but boundless — the 
 whole peninsula lay at our feet. Though hazy, we could see very 
 far up the Red Sea, towards Suez, making out diflFerent points of 
 our route ; and we looked across it far into the Egyptian Desert. 
 Tur and the coast downwards also appeared through a cleft. The 
 stem and sterile mountains of the peninsula lay at our feet, an in- 
 tricate labyriuth, a confused sea of many-coloured peaks, black, 
 brown, red, and grey, with here and there a narrow valley of bright 
 yellow sand, peeping through ; Wady es Sheik being the most con- 
 spicuous opening ; beyond these arose irregularly the plateaux of 
 the great Desert, and the ranges of El Tih, which support it ; all 
 fading away into a misty heat, but for which the lulls of Palestine 
 might perhaps have been seen in the remotest distance. The soli- 
 tudes of Sinai, a darker and bolder congregation of wild peaks, lay 
 to the right, stem and black and awful in colouring, and cut off all 
 view of the Gulf of Akaba in this direction.
 
 VIEW FROM THE SERBAL. 65 
 
 Nothino; on the world's surface could be more desolate than the 
 vast region that floated in the scorching haze beneath us, from 
 east to west, from north to south ; mountains, plain, valley, and 
 sea, formed by the slow abrasions and dispositions of countless ages, 
 and then fractured and upheaved, by the agency of fire, or protruded 
 in molten masses thi'ough fissures thus created, seemed stamped by 
 nature with eternal barrenness, as unfit for human habitation ; no 
 sign of living water, of woody hill, or fertile valley, nothing save 
 rock and sand was visible throughout the wide circumference of 
 the lonely expanse. One dark -green speck nearly under us, peeping 
 between two sterile peaks, revealed where my tent lay "perdu" 
 among the palm-gi'oves of Feiran ; and to me at that moment it had 
 an unspeakable charm, though I almost doubted if I should get 
 there with unbroken limbs or neck. After all, even at some risk, 
 and with great toil, it was something grand to brood like the eagle 
 from these all but inaccessible clifis, over a region to which Biblical 
 history has imparted a sublime interest, and to see, outspread like a 
 map, the chief part of the " great and terrible wilderness," which 
 entombed an entire generation of the Israelites ; to be able to trace 
 their route almost from the hiUs of Marah and Elim, and the Desert 
 of Shur, visible beyond the openings through the defile of Fei- 
 ran, into the heart of these mountains, and to behold, far-stretched- 
 out, almost to the borders of the promised land, that great central 
 plateau, through which their allotted period of wandering must sub- 
 sequently have led them. 
 
 I am uncertain whether the peak which we had scaled is that 
 climbed by Burckhardt, and upon which he found the Sinaitic cha- 
 racter — as Euppell also did upon that he ascended, being the second 
 from the west of the five principal peaks : but I believe it is the 
 same from which a path leads up from the ruined convent of Wady 
 Daghade, on the south-west of the mountain. This existence of the 
 Sinaitic writings on more than one peak, seems rather to bear out 
 Dr. Lepsius's view of their being the work of the shepherds who 
 were accustomed to roam over the mountains. The Serbal is 634-2 
 feet above the Red Sea, which is at no great distance ; and though it 
 
 K
 
 66 
 
 THE BEDEN — DESCENT. 
 
 is 1700 feet lower thaii Mount St. Catherine, as stated by Robinson, 
 yet from its rising from a far lower level, from its perfect isolation, 
 and the magnificence of its outline, it is incomparably more imposing. 
 About the summit, and for some distance down the mountain, 
 there grew among the clefts a considerable quantity of pungently 
 fragrant shrubs, which find sufficient root-hold in the slowly accu- 
 mulating debris, and supply food to the gazelle and beden, or rock- 
 goat, a pair of the horns of wliich latter animal I found, and earned 
 
 
 home : it is also fetched dowTi for the use of the camel. There is 
 beside plenty of fine cold water, with which our guide replenished the 
 zemzemia. The descent proved, as I had expected, very difficult, and 
 required the greatest attention, notwithstanding which we had some 
 narrow escapes of falhng headlong ; and for the most part had to let 
 ourselves down from one rock to another by a most toilsome gymnastic 
 process. Resting by the way, the descent occupied nearly as long 
 as the climb : right glad were we to get to the bottom in safety, and 
 to see again the little oasis at the spring. Towards evening we 
 reached the encampment, which appeared most lovely among the 
 palms., and its charms were not lessened by the circumstance of
 
 ARAB CUNNING. 67 
 
 finding Ibrahim ready with an excellent dinner of three courses, 
 prepared in a superior style of cookery, and to which he had devoted 
 all his energies during the unusual interval afforded by our absence. 
 There was but one drawback to its enjoyment, the company was too 
 numerous ; several of the Bedouins of the valley having assembled, 
 either for the pleasure of seeing me eat, or perhaps with some vague 
 idea that they were to be partakers in the feast, as their law is 
 among themselves ; but, meeting ^vith no overtures on my part, 
 they at length arose and departed, with a very ill gi'ace, to a short 
 distance, still looking back from time to time as the viands dis- 
 appeared, with most uncomfortable and rueful glances. Komeh 
 brought them round afterwards, by a cup of coffee and a friendly 
 pipe. Umbarak, and the rest of our Bedouins, had concluded the 
 purchase of the promised lamb, but on some pretext postponed the 
 killing and eating it, till the shroud of night had delivered them 
 from their hungry neighbom-s, whom they seemed more anxious to 
 get rid of than I was myself, inasmuch as they might claim a portion of 
 their feast, could they but manage to be present at it. 
 
 '•' They cooked it in darkness, at dead of night ;" 
 
 and as they bolted it in secret, sweet I doubt not was the sauce 
 it derived from the success of this clever expedient. Robinson 
 gives a laughable account of Arab cunning, in this matter ; having 
 purchased a kid, as a present to his guides, of some Arabs he had 
 fallen in with, he says : — 
 
 " The poor animal was now let loose, and ran bleating into our tent, as if 
 aware of its coming fate. All was activity and bustle to prepare the coming 
 feast, the kid was killed and dressed with great dexterity and despatch ; and 
 its still quivering members were laid upon the fire, and began to emit savoury 
 odours, particularly gratifying to Arab uostriis. But now a change came over 
 the fair scene : the Arabs of whom we had bouglit the kid had in some way 
 learned that we were to encamp near, and naturally enough concluding that 
 the kid was bought in order to be eaten, they thought good to honour our 
 Arabs witii a visit, to the number of five or six persons. Now the stern law 
 of Bedawin hospitality demands, that whenever a guest is present at a meal, 
 whether there be much or little, the first and best portion must be laid before 
 the stranger. In this instance the five or six guests attained their object, and
 
 68 SCENERY OF FEIRAN. 
 
 liad not only the selling of the kid, but also the eating of it ; while our poor 
 Arabs, whose mouths had long been watering with expectation, were forced 
 to take up with the fragments. Besharah, who played the host, fared worst 
 of all ; and afterwards came to beg for a biscuit, saying he had lost the whole 
 of his dinner." 
 
 October 11. It was with positive reluctance that I prepared to 
 leave the palms of Wady Feiran ; but a long journey was before me, 
 and travellino- in the Desert is slow work at best. About noon we 
 were ready, and after inscribing my name on the limestone altar by the 
 side of the stream, in grateful token of the great enjoyment I had de- 
 rived from my stay, I saw my tent descend, and solitude gathering 
 again over the spot lately animated by my temporary home, then pro- 
 ceeded slowly on foot up the valley towards Mount Sinai. The palm- 
 'groves continue for half-an -hour's walk in this direction, and the whole 
 passage, tUl they cease, is like a region of enchantment ; an old 
 convent, in ruins, juts out on a spur of rock, in the midst of the 
 vegetation, just where the sublime summit of the Serbal peeps over 
 the precipitous walls of the valley, which here forms a narrow grassy 
 glade, between two avenues of palms, and is kept moist and green by 
 the spring, which, issuing from the base of a small cliff, trickles across 
 the little area. Among the thickets and gardens are seen the Bedouin 
 women, who suspend the rude cradles of their children from the 
 boughs, while others are playing among flocks of sheep and goats ; a 
 scene fancifully beautiful as the fabled golden age. 
 
 At length the pahn-gi'oves cease, and give place to thick 
 avenues of turfeh-trees, bending over our heads like the alleys of a 
 garden, but with nature's wild luxuriance. The turfeh resembles 
 the weeping birch, but is still more delicate in appearance, and the 
 manna of the peninsula exudes in drops from the extremity of its 
 slender pensile boughs ; a small quantity is collected and carried to 
 the Convent of Sinai, when it is prepared by boiling, and is then 
 packed in small tin cases, one of which I brought home with me. 
 Thus prepared, it resembles gum in a melted state, with small 
 whitish grains in it, and has a somewhat similar taste, only sweeter 
 and rather aromatic, answering well enough in general to the descrip-
 
 THE TURFEH — MANNA. 69 
 
 tion in the Bible ; but the quantity obtained is very trifling.* 
 This general correspondence (for such I must at least deem it) of 
 the actual manna found in the peninsula, with that described in 
 Scripture is very remarkable. Eobinson denies that any conformity 
 whatever exists between them : "■ Of the manna of the Old Testa- 
 ment it is said, ' When the dew that lay was gone up, behold, upon 
 the face of the Desert a small round thing, small as the hoar frost 
 upon the ground ; and it was Hke coriander-seed, white ; and the 
 taste of it was like wafers with honey. And the people gathered it, 
 and ground it in mills, and beat it in a mortar, or baked it in pans, 
 and made cakes of it ; and the taste of it was as the taste of fresh 
 oil. And when the dew fell upon the camp by night, the manna fell 
 upon it/ Of all these characteristic," he says, " not one is applicable 
 to the present manna. And even could it be shown to be the same, 
 still a supply of it in sufficient abundance for the daily consump- 
 tion of two millions of people, would have been no less a miracle," 
 Between the flavour of " wafers with honey," " fresh oil," and 
 sweet-tasting aromatic gum, there is certainly a vague sort of 
 conformity, as also between the appearance of " coriander-seed " and 
 small drops of gum ; but every one must subscribe, in the fullest 
 sense, to the opinion, that if the Israelites were adequately supplied 
 from trees like these, it must indeed have been by the operation of a 
 constant miracle. 
 
 Drs. Milman and Lepsius both regard this as the manna of 
 Scripture ; the former considers that the quantity was miraculously 
 augmented : how then a supply was provided elsewhere, when none 
 exists in the course of the wanderings of the Israelites, (this being, 
 in fact, the only part of the peninsula where the manna is found,) 
 must be left to these scholars to explain as they are best able. This 
 is, however, but one out of many instances which rise up in passing 
 through this region, to show the fallacy of the present system of 
 accommodation between the natural and the miraculous, and to 
 
 * At least, so it seemed to me. Dr. Lepsius, on the contrary, speaks of it as 
 very considerable.
 
 70 
 
 FERTILITY OF WADY FEIRAN. 
 
 prove conclusively that no middle term will hold upon a sifting 
 inquii'y. 
 
 Wady Feiran is also celebrated for the only com grown in the 
 peninsula, and for its luxuriant clusters of dates ; in fact, the upper 
 
 part of this singular valley contains a rich deposit of earth, brought 
 a own from the mountains, which has gradually accumulated, and is 
 rendered additionally productive by the numerous springs. The 
 portion around the ancient city is less fertile, being exposed to the 
 full fury of the torrent descending down a rapid slope from Mount 
 Serbal, which, by its violence and the quantity of stones which it 
 sweeps along with it, prevents the formation of valuable soil. That 
 a considerable population once dwelt here is evident, from the 
 numerous ruins of villages and convents scattered about, though 
 these last may have had revenues at a distance : at present the valley 
 is not carefully cultivated, and affords subsistence to but a handful 
 of Arabs, some of whom are, it is considered, Djebaleyeh, i. e., de- 
 scendants of the old Christian serfs of the convents. 
 
 At length the last traces of this vegetation were left behind, and 
 we reluctantly entered upon the more open sandy valleys. It was soon
 
 umbarak's mother. 71 
 
 after leaving the outskirts of Wady Feiran that Dr. Lepsius noticed 
 a remarkable peculiarity, which seems to have escaped previous tra- 
 vellers, and which I did not myself remark — the former existence of 
 a lake, which has deposited immense masses of soil. " We saw before 
 us," he observes, " a tall, steep, craggy peak, called Bueb, which al- 
 most intercepted the valley ; and, to my astonishment, I beheld, on 
 the right and left, a number of mounds of earth, from sixty to one 
 hundred feet high, on the sides of the primitive mountain chain, the 
 largest and almost the only real mounds of earth I had seen since 
 we left the valley of the Nile. The valley runs close by Bueb to 
 the left, and from this point is called Wadi Firan. The same tall 
 deposits of earth continued on both sides, and showed that there had 
 once been an elevated basin here, containing water — a lake, which 
 had not then found an outlet ; for that is the only way so vast 
 a body of earth could have been deposited. The geographical 
 position of the whole mountain-range in this district bears marks of 
 the same phenomenon. All the streams from the east and north, 
 some of them in large sheets of water, unite here at Wadi Firan.'"' 
 
 In this neighbourhood we were passing slowly along, when 
 Umbarak suddenly darted from his camel, and hastened rapidly 
 across the shrubby wady towards a female figure, enveloped in a long 
 blue wrapper, who received him in her arms with a most affectionate 
 embrace ; and then followed him towards the little caravan, hang- 
 ing behind, however, as she approached, and giving shy glances 
 towards the unusual appearance of a man in a straw-hat and 
 trowsers. I found, on inquiry, that this was his mother ; and that 
 his tent was in the mountains just above our route. The very 
 evident joy that was produced by this meeting induced me to 
 encamp at a small distance beyond, that the woman might not have 
 to proceed too far from her home on foot, or give up the society 
 of her son : for what would not I have given, at that moment, for 
 a similar apparition ! the thought of it made my eyes to fill. 
 
 " One touch of nature makes the whole world kin ;" 
 and thus the mother of this poor Bedouin appeared worthy, in my
 
 72 NUKB HAWI. 
 
 eyes, of all respect and honour. When we halted, she busied 
 herself in unloading his camel, and arranging his gear, in a manner 
 that showed she was well acquainted with the business ; but still 
 persisted in remaining at a distance from the tent, although glancing 
 at me, from time to time, with lively, curious eyes ; wondering, 
 perhaps, what infatuation could drive a man to wander, like an 
 imquiet spirit, so far from his mother's tent. Little could she 
 di\ane the feeling of melancholy with which I looked that evening 
 upon the setting sun ; and less could she suppose that she had been 
 instrumental in causing it. Komeh made a feast for her and for her 
 son, producing all our little delicacies, and giving coffee to the 
 whole company ; and it was a joyous night when he took his pipe 
 in the midst, like a little king, by the ruddy blaze of a fire of 
 desert-shrubs. Nor was Umbarak without a grateful sense of these 
 little attentions, and the next day presented us with a skin of con- 
 serve of dates, prepared in his home in the mountains. His brother 
 came down the next morning. The woman had reason to be proud 
 of her sons ; two finer, handsomer fellows I have not seen in the 
 peninsula of Sinai. 
 
 October 12. From our encampment we proceeded towards the Nukb 
 or passof Hawy: Umbarak's mother had left us and returned to her 
 home. We reached at an early hour the foot of this portal to the wild 
 mountains that bar the bleak solitudes of Sinai. As this was evidently 
 to be a toilsome business for the camels, I dismounted here with 
 Komeh, and took the lead. From the descriptions of this pass 
 which I had read, I expected unusual grandeur in the scenery, 
 as well as great difficulty in the ascent ; but after our clamber 
 up the terrific precipices of the Serbal, those which hem in 
 this desolate ravine appeared very insignificant, while the zio-zao- 
 pathway, built up with stones, seemed comparatively like a broad 
 and easy turnpike-road, which we surmounted with little effort.* 
 Not so, however, did the camels : their piteous cries filled the 
 air, and echoed wildly in the recesses of the shattered cHffs. Catching, 
 
 * Before the construction of a road, however, it must have presented great 
 difficulties.
 
 PLAIN OF MOUNT SINAI. 73 
 
 as we mounted higher and higher, the still freshening hreeze from 
 the cool region above, we felt equal to anything ; and, highly 
 excited at the prospect of reaching the convent in an hour or 
 two, beguiled the way with Komeh's agreeable speculations, touch- 
 ino- the various constituent articles of the good dinner which we 
 determined should mark our arrival. In the mean time the groans 
 of the camels had died away in the distance ; and we were so 
 far ahead, that it was not worth while waiting for them ; the 
 fresh breeze grew stronger and more bracing, and on we went. 
 The narrow valley widened gradually into a high dreary undulating 
 plain, hemmed in by still drearier mountains, which upreared 
 their dark, shattered, thunder-stricken peaks higher and higher 
 on each side as we advanced ; while right before us, closing up the 
 plain and shutting it in, towered, sheer from its level, an awful range 
 of precipices, which seemed to bar our further progress through this 
 region of desolate sublimity. As we still advanced, a narrow glen 
 opened up between them, running deeper into the heart of the soli- 
 tude, and at some distance up this, half-lost between walls of naked 
 rock, peeped out the high wall of the convent, and the dark ver- 
 dure of its garden, looking, as some one has well described it, like 
 the end of the world. I was wrapped in the feeling of peculiar me- 
 lancholy inspired by this region, but Komeh uttered a joyful shout — 
 " There was El Deir at last — rest after toil : better bread to be had 
 than at Cairo, fresh fruits and legumes, eggs, and salad, and milk." 
 
 This plain is considered by Robinson as the camping ground of 
 the Israelites ; its extent is still further increased by lateral valleys 
 receding from the plain itself, between the foot of the first range of 
 mountains and that of the great central mass of crags ; the left one 
 being Wady es Sheik, of very considerable extent, the right a smaller 
 recess ; altogether making a very extensive open space, greater 
 than any other existing among these rugged barriers, and from 
 every part of which the precipices of Horeb, (es Susafeh,) in the 
 centre of the view, could be plainly discerned — certainly an im- 
 portant literal conformity with the scriptural account. This jagged 
 range of rocks projects into the plain, rising directly from its level in 
 
 L
 
 74 NEIGHBOURHOOD OF SINAI. 
 
 dark and solemn grandeur ; and its summit appears a fitting 
 theatre for the awful phenomena which accompanied the promul- 
 gation of the law. Such, by those at least who believe the ancient 
 and monkish Sinai to be identical, is the presumed locality of this 
 great transaction : the annexed view, I will venture to say, is an 
 accurate, though necessarily incomplete, representation of it. 
 
 There is no regular ascent to the Horeb of Dr. Robinson, though 
 some have contrived, with no little risk, to reach the summit. 
 Dr. Lepsius climbed, indeed, up the perpendicular face — no small 
 feat : an easier way up might probably be found, by making a wider 
 circuit. Behind it, but not seen on account of the perspective, 
 lies Djebel Musa, the monkish Horeb, the highest peak of the 
 same range ; but, as it is invisible from the camp, having no 
 claim to its name and reputation. The convent, with its garden, 
 is seen at some distance up the ravine ; and beyond it, closing up 
 the valley, is the rounded form of Mount Mennagia, which Lord 
 Lindsay presumes to be Horeb ; but this appears too remote 
 from what must have been the camp, and too partially visible 
 thence, as well as too insignificant in aspect, when compared with 
 the neighbouring heights, to justify such a supposition. 
 
 There is a pathway, which may be traced in the view, from the 
 convent round the base of the crags, up into the valley which 
 bounds the other side of Djebel Musa ; rising above which may be 
 seen, in remote perspective, the towering mass of Mount St. Cathe- 
 rine,*- somewhat higher than the Serbal, being the loftiest peak in 
 the region of Sinai, but infinitely inferior in imposing sublimity of 
 aspect. At the mouth of this valley, marked by its tall cypress, 
 appears another of the convent gardens, to which a small building 
 was formerly attached. With this description and the view, the 
 reader, I trust, will be enabled to form a tolerably correct idea of the 
 immediate environs of Sinai, and of the different theories on the 
 subject of the localities of the lawgiving. 
 
 We traversed the plain, and then picking our way up the re- 
 
 * This, in Ruppell's opinion, is, after all, the real scene of the lawgiving ; 
 almost every traveller has his own theory on the subject.
 
 ENTRY INTO THE CONVENT. 75 
 
 ceding ravine, among loose blocks of stone, rolled from the precipices 
 above, approached the convent walls, which, although prison-like in 
 their exterior, had the reputation of enclosing a sort of rude comfort 
 within. There was an old watch-tower, but no look-out : the place 
 seemed utterly abandoned, and we crept, unbailed, and seemingly 
 unnoticed, under the high wall ; and, having forgotten our intro- 
 ductory letter, seated ourselves in the shade, to wait for the camels, 
 under the aerial entrance, thirty feet from the ground, by which 
 alone admittance is obtained into this jealous stronghold. Two or 
 three small rusty cannon pointed down on our heads, seeming as if 
 they had dozed into the rust of untold years, and would be in 
 no hurry to awake to mischief We had seated ourselves on the 
 ground, with our backs to the wall, and were dozing off from fatigue, 
 when we were startled by the grating of the iron door over our 
 heads, followed by the projecting of a long white beard, the turning 
 of a windlass, a descending rope with a bar across, and an inter- 
 rogation in modern Greek, to which neither of us could reply. 
 More beards now squeezed into the narrow trap-doorway, and signs 
 were made that we should mount. I caught hold of the rope, but 
 before properly securing my seat across the bar, the windlass be- 
 gan to turn, and I found myself suspended between heaven and 
 earth, grasping desperately the greasy rope, with my teeth set, and 
 my legs dangling, in momentary risk of a dangerous fall if my grasp 
 should relax, as it was about to do, when, at the critical moment, a 
 vigorous brother, suddenly pouncing on me from the door-way, 
 pulled me in safely, and tumbled me in a heap on the floor of the 
 corridor. All this passed in even less time than it takes to tell it. 
 
 Upon recovering breath after this perilous ascent, I found my- 
 self in presence of the Superior and several of the brethren. The 
 Superior, as I perceived at a glance, was not the venerable old man 
 mentioned by Stephens and Robinson, but a person of middle age, 
 grave, intelligent, and rather reserved in manner and appearance. 
 He welcomed me kindly ; but without bestowing on me the holy 
 kiss, which, however evangelical, has come, in these evil days, as 
 the monks have at length discovered, to be matter of uno-racious
 
 76 EECEPTION BY THE SUPERIOR. 
 
 jesting. It struck me, indeed, during my stay, that they treat tra- 
 vellers with less familiarity now than was their wont when their 
 visits were more rare, and their habits less known ; having, perhaps, 
 been annoyed at that odd mixture of ill-timed joking and continual 
 grumbling, which characterises so many of the wandering islanders, 
 and of which they leave traces wherever the pages of an album 
 offers an escape-vent for their eccentric humoui'S. Be this as it may, 
 these venerable fathers certainly now keep themselves more apart ; 
 and, content with providing accommodation for their visitors, and 
 putting a cook at their disposal, and thus rendering them inde- 
 pendent, no longer invite them to their conventual meals, but leave 
 those who wish it, to seek for that closer acquaintance which, how- 
 ever, they always seem pleased to cultivate. This, at least, was the 
 impression on me during my stay. 
 
 The Superior, and one or two others, now conducted me to an 
 apartment, newly erected for the use of travellers, quite clean, and 
 furnished on three sides with a broad and comfortable divan, 
 a door and grated window, communicating with another corridor, 
 commanding the whole interior of the convent, and another window 
 looking into the garden. By this time our embarrassment was 
 relieved and o\ir tongues loosened, through the arrival of a sort of 
 lay brother, named Pietro, who had come from Cairo, to assist in 
 constructing the new buildings, and who spoke French fluently. 
 The Superior inquired after the letter from the branch convent at 
 Cairo, which is always required of visitors, and usually presented 
 before admittance is given ; but we could as yet see nothing of our 
 camels. The bell now clanked for prayers, and I was thus allowed 
 an interval of repose, which I much needed. 
 
 When I awoke, I found that Ibrahim had arrived, and that 
 piles of my baggage were encumbering the corridor, while the 
 Arabs had departed, to enjoy for a few days the comforts of their 
 own tents. The corridor was soon cleared, and I found myself in 
 possession of very comfortable qiiarters, with the prospect of a 
 quiet although brief sojourn in this home in the wilderness. 
 Komeh now came forward, with the convent cook, " a marvellous
 
 THE COOK — PIETRO. 77 
 
 proper man ;'' and, looking at his noble stature, stalwart limbs, 
 ruddy open countenance, and black beard, it certainly seemed to me 
 too bad, although possibly I may be blamed for the avowal, 
 that when so many misbegotten knaves arc allowed to overstock 
 this world with their puny resemblances, this fine fellow should be 
 condemned, by a narrow-minded superstition, to die, and — as we are 
 bound to suppose will be the case — leave no copy of himself behind. 
 It was not much he could add to our stock of provisions, beyond 
 fresh bread and a salad ; but these to us were real luxuries, and no 
 less the fine clear cold water, from the convent-well. Ibrahim had 
 already gone out to negotiate with the neighbouring Arabs for a 
 lamb, some fowls, and eggs, and a little milk ; for none of these 
 sinful indulgences can be had in the convent, being against the 
 prescribed rule of monkish diet. 
 
 I did little this afternoon but lounge about the building, with 
 Pietro : he is a singular creature, and passes for half insane, as 
 Komeh mysteriously whispered me. His dress is a simple Arab 
 coat, of rough striped stuff, girt about with a rope ; his arms, legs, 
 and head are naked. He is on trial, being as yet only in his novi- 
 tiate, the presumed weakness of his intellect being deemed no 
 serious obstacle to his holy profession ; or at least an obstacle more 
 than counterbalanced, in this little community, (where every one is 
 required to exercise some talent for the general good,) by his valuable 
 accomplishments as a mason. A short acquaintance, however, soon 
 convinced me that Pietro had as little relish for the restraints as 
 for the fare of the convent ; and that he meditated a speedy es(iape 
 from its walls. He is a poor hand at prayers, and telling of beads ; 
 and is altogether too wild, and, notwithstanding his supposed in- 
 firmity, perhaps too shrewd withal, to bury himself in this den of 
 gloomy monotony. He could talk, after all, too sensibly for a monk ; 
 and, even as a listener, was a great acquisition to one who had not 
 made free use of his tong-ue for a fortnight. 
 
 After dinner, I sat in the shade of the corridor, and looked over 
 the interior of the building. Its inmates are now no longer under the 
 temporary excitement of an arrival ; and all has repassed into its
 
 78 APPEARANCE OF THE INTERIOR. 
 
 usual quiet ; one may almost hear a pin drop : now and then a gust 
 of wind sweeps over the bleak perpendicular precipices, which seem 
 threatening to bury it, and furiously rattles an old casement or two ; 
 then all is still again. An old in-egular wall, patched in different 
 ages, with here and there a tower, fences in and looks down upon 
 the entire maze of buildings : within are courts, and corridors, and 
 galleries, connected by blind passages, and flights of steps, mostly 
 invisible from above. Every now and then a dark-robed figure will 
 suddenly peep out, like a mouse, from one hole then burrow into 
 another, and disappear. But for this, one would never suspect the 
 little busy world hidden beneath, — the snug storehouses of com, 
 wine, and wood ; the monastic makers of bread, distillers of raki, 
 tailors, blacksmiths, shoemakers, and cook, all busy, like ants, under- 
 ground ; the only genteel sinecurist being the Librarian, for if the 
 body is but poorly provided for within these holy walls, the mind 
 is starved outright. The church is wedged incomprehensibly into 
 this labyrinth, presenting, as viewed from above, only a sharp gabled 
 roof, well leaded, with a cross at the top ; and by its side rises a 
 minaret, erected at a period when the monks were compelled to 
 admit a mosque for Mussulman pilgrims. Such is the interior of the 
 convent, viewed fi'om above ; and I was poring over its singular ap- 
 pearance, when Pietro joined me, and offered his services as cicerone. 
 I was curious first to go round the wall, and, following my compa- 
 nion, dived boldly into blind dark passages, half-choked with dust, 
 sometimes ascending into daylight, and then plunging down again, tiU 
 we had made the entire circuit ; we sometimes diverged by a branch- 
 stair into out-of-the-way nooks and chambers, with rude pallets and 
 grated windows, the abodes of former recluses, of which the con- 
 vent, in its palmy state, numbered some four hundred, there being 
 now but one-twentieth of that number. These cells looked as 
 though they had never been entered during the centuries that had 
 elapsed since their last tenants were carried to the charnel, and in- 
 spired such a feeling of dreary oppressive melancholy, that we gladly 
 hastened into the living regions below. 
 
 Here aU, though antiquated, was neat and clean ; small beds of
 
 INTEEIOE OF THE CONVENT. 79 
 
 flowers and pot-herbs relieved the conventual gloom of the little 
 paved courts ; and vines were occasionally trained about the walls, 
 or upon a rude trellis. Here and there a sleek, indulged, well-con- 
 ditioned cat, sat gravely perched upon a familiar stone. Mounting 
 a flight of steps, we paid a short visit to the Superior, whose room 
 looks down into the principal court : it was neatly whitewashed, and 
 furnished with a divan, but entirely destitute of ornament. Though 
 in appearance naturally grave and reserved, he was evidently kind- 
 hearted ; and iii the most hospitable manner produced his little store 
 of choice fruit, which he peeled himself, and presented, an attendant 
 handing hqueur. I found it had been a trying season for the con- 
 vent, a severe rain-storm had carried away portions of the garden- 
 walls, and a terrible and most destructive flight of locusts had 
 swept aU the conventual gardens, both here and at Tor ; while 
 the new buildings had occasioned an outlay, which, however, was 
 principally met, as I understood, out of the funds at the disposal of 
 the Greek archbishop. All this, as I was privately informed by 
 Pietro, weighed much upon the spirits of the worthy Superior. 
 
 Descending the steps, accompanied by him, into the little court, 
 we saw the Ikonomos and Librarian seated on a bench in front of 
 the humble apartment of the latter functionary. They rose to 
 salute us ; the Ikonomos, upon whom, as, I need hardly say, his appel- 
 lation implies, devolves the immediate charge of all the temporal 
 arrangements of the convent, besides the business of communicating 
 with the Arabs, was a fine-looking old Greek, with mingled keen- 
 ness and prudence expressed in his marked countenance, the efiect 
 of which was heightened by a long white beard. The Librarian 
 was decidedly the gentleman of the convent ; his manners were 
 bland, and his courtesy as frank and sincere as it was refined ; 
 and he had evidently a desire to obtain information from the world 
 beyond. With the assistance of Pietro, and of a few words of 
 Italian which the Librarian had picked up, we contrived to establish 
 a sort of conversation ; and, evidently to their satisfaction, I invited 
 myself to their religious service and succeeding repast on the follow- 
 ing mominsr.
 
 80 THE GARDEN. 
 
 There was yet time to pay a hasty visit to the garden, which is 
 without the high wall of the convent, though attached to it, and 
 forming a second enclosure of considerable extent, surrounded by an 
 inferior wall of rude stones, piled up one on the other without 
 cement. The entrance from the convent is by a long, low, dark 
 covered way, which requires one to stoop carefully in passing ; at 
 either end is a heavy grated door, wliich is left open during the day, 
 but, like the garden-gate, is locked at dusk ; the keys, as I afterwards 
 witnessed, being then brought in by one of the brethren, who 
 knelt and kissed the Superior's hand as he presented them to him. 
 
 As we emerged from this subterranean passage, the last rays 
 of a red and glorious sunset were burnishing the dark plume- 
 like summit of that gigantic solemn old cypress, which far over- 
 tops the lofty walls of the convent ; but the rest of the garden 
 was sunk in the still shadow of a calm evening, and a quiet 
 and melancholy serenity pervaded its rustling walks. Enclosed, as 
 before said, with a rough wall, it rises by successive terraces, 
 covered with soil brought from afar, up the side of the mountain, 
 which towers above in stem desolation, without a blade of grass, as 
 if threatening to crush rather than shelter the precious acre or two 
 of fertility, so laboriously won and so unceasingly tended. But its 
 adamantine crags have stood firm for ages ; and year after year have 
 the trees, striking their rootlets into every crevice, so tightened 
 their grasp of the massive fragments among which they stand, that 
 their gnarled and hoary trunks appear almost as immovable. 
 There arc long alleys of gray rustling olives, intermingled with 
 the darker and broader foliage of the fig and mulberry ; and a 
 variety of fruit-trees — such as apples, pears, almonds, quinces, and 
 pomegranates, trellises covered with vines, and little beds of herbs 
 and vegetables, maintained by runnels of water, and beaming with 
 a most refreshing, familiar, home-look, in a wilderness which looks 
 like the very grave of nature. An old monk seemed installed as 
 head-gardener ; and some of the Arab serfs of the convent are also 
 employed, the terraces being cultivated for corn. The fruits are all 
 of good quality, although the garden was now looking quite at its
 
 ^ 
 
 N^
 
 GENERAL VIEW OF TUE CONVENT. 81 
 
 worst, not only on account of the drought, but on account of 
 the ravages committed by the locusts, which had eaten up all before 
 them. The evening closing in, we were obliged to quit the garden, 
 and returning by the dark passage, were locked into the convent for 
 the night. And thus passed my first day at Mount Sinai. 
 
 The locahties I have alluded to will be better understood by 
 reference to the annexed view, displaying the curious form of the 
 convent, and the surrounding locahties, with great clearness ; and 
 I hope the reader will consider an exact idea of the place as some 
 indemnification for the unavoidable dryness of a detailed description. 
 The building itself here appears sunk in a ravine, between two 
 parallel ranges of towering crags, and its enclosing wall runs 
 irregularly from the bed of the valley up the steep side of the 
 mountaui, so that its interior courts and edifices rise one above 
 another to the topmost wall. This wall is of pretty soUd con- 
 struction, at least the lower portion ; and some part is comparatively 
 new, as the French, under Kleber, rebuilt a portion of it. In dif- 
 ferent places are small antique tablets : the main entrance is by the 
 elevated, and to me memorable, door within the wooden covering : 
 along the wall from thence to the comer, and at right-angles to it, 
 are the recent improvements before alluded to ; and here is the 
 dehghtful terrace where I used to sit at evening with the monks, the 
 new rooms for travellers being prominent in front, on the right-hand 
 side of the building, in advance of the older ones, running back in 
 a line with them to the further angle, where is an old tower. The 
 leaded roof of the church, and top of the minaret adjacent, peep up 
 above the corridors and vaults below, which, of course, are, from this 
 point of view, invisible. The building to the right of the mosque, 
 in shade, is the archbishop's room ; the rest of the interior is 
 an undistinguishable mass of roofs : a covered walk, as before 
 described, runs all round the interior of the wall, except on the 
 right-hand side, where the travellers' rooms look out upon the 
 garden ; but a portion of this walk only can be seen. The entrance 
 to the garden is by the concealed passage before described, nearly 
 under the travellers' rooms ; the small building to the right is the 
 
 M
 
 82 A NIGHT SCENE. 
 
 cemetery. The old cypress, also before described, is in the upper 
 comer ; it is of enormous size and span : at the angle of the ^all 
 below is a door, by which an easy descent, with a rope, is made to 
 the back of the building, while at the farther end is another. By 
 this former gate one goes out to ascend Djebel Musa, the pathway 
 to which is seen ascending a hill between two overhanging pre- 
 cipices. 
 
 An old legend of the place avers that the good monks were of 
 yore so tormented with fleas, that they would have been driven 
 to forsake the holy walls, but for the timely interposition of 
 the Virgin, who has ever since protected them from such attacks. 
 To myself, more fortunate or more meritorious than some other 
 heretic travellers, this merciful exemption was also extended ; but, 
 with all apphances and means to boot, I could not sleep. A gusty 
 wind swept up the ravine, and the rattling of the old casements min- 
 gled with the hideous night-cry of the hungry jackal : the close walls 
 seemed to choke me ; I longed for the freedom of my tent in the 
 desert, and found, to my surprise, that I had become half a Bedouin. 
 I rose and looked out upon the garden : the trees were bending 
 before the wind, the tall old cypress swayed to and fro with the 
 stormy gusts, as a mast strains in a gale ; then pacing the gallery I 
 watched the gleams of moonhght, breaking through clouds scudding 
 rapidly over the silent courts, and up the desolate overhanging 
 peaks. Suddenly the wild dead clanking of the midnight bell 
 broke out ; then lights were seen in the church, and a few notes of 
 the Kyrie EUeson faintly sounded at intervals from beneath. I re- 
 turned to my mattress and fell into an uneasy sleep, distui'bed by 
 dreams wild and melancholy as the scene which had surrounded me. 
 On awaking in the morning, symptoms of illness and exhaustion, 
 the result of over-exertion were apparent : Ibrahim, also, was attacked 
 by fever, and manifestly incapable of proceeding to Petra ; and as he 
 was my interpreter, I thought myself compelled, although most re- 
 luctantly, to give up my projected journey thither. This was a 
 great disappointment ; but to break down in the remote wilderness is 
 horrible, and I then felt physically unequal to such a prolongation
 
 THE CHURCH 83 
 
 of my wanderings. 1 descended to the church in melancholy mood. 
 On entering it now for the first time, I was both pleased and sur- 
 prised : although somewhat spoiled by tasteless and gaudy decoration, 
 it is a fine simple solemn basilica, built in the time of Justi- 
 nian, and is kept with the nicest care by the brethren. Lean- 
 ing against a carved seat, I waited through the service, of which I 
 understood nothing, but which is described by a previous traveller as 
 " simple, dignified, and solemn, consisting in great part in the 
 reading of the Gospels, with the touching responses and chants of 
 the Greek ritual." To me, it appeared impressive enough, 
 without mummery, and the chants were very moving and devo- 
 tional : the demeanour of the Superior seemed both dignified and 
 serious. It was afiecting to see some very old men come tottering 
 in from a side-passage during the service, whose beards, long to 
 their girdles, as they knelt down, swept the marble pavement, and 
 who, after a brief but earnest prostration in prayer, withdrew ; fail- 
 ing nature being apparently unequal to the fatigues of an entire 
 service. And though the piety they nourish may be " traditionary 
 and degraded," it would surely be a harsh judgment which should 
 refuse them the final rest to which through life they have aspired, 
 if the award be according to the measure of what a man has, and 
 not of what he has not. Milton, who was no lover of monks. 
 
 " White, black, and grey, with all their trumpery," 
 
 would at least give them a place in his " Paradise of Fools,'' which 
 is better than the limbo to which they and their erring piety are 
 devoted by the more exclusive sort of sectarians. Pietro was there, 
 among the others ; but his listless vacant manner promised but ill for 
 his attainment of the odour of sanctity. 
 
 After service, we proceeded fi'om the church by a side-way to the 
 refectory, an old vaulted room, represented in the annexed sketch. 
 The wall at its extremity presents to the eye scriptural subjects in 
 fresco, in a rude style and much discoloured ; below is a small altar. 
 From one side of this to the other extremity stretches a long table, 
 well polished and ancient, at which some generations of departed
 
 84 THE REFECTORY. 
 
 monks must have eaten, with ranges of seats, quaintly carved ; 
 while silver crucifixes hang at intervals from the pointed roof. 
 The superior, advancing to the head of the table, seated me beside 
 him ; the rest took their places below, and the picture of conventual 
 life was to me complete. Before each were placed a loaf of bread, 
 and a pewter spoon and plate ; some dishes of the same material 
 contained olives and vegetables ; and opposite to myself and the 
 superior was some Arab cheese. A side orifice communicating with 
 the kitchen was now opened, and a large dish was handed in filled 
 with hot vegetables, mixed with some unctuous addition, the whole 
 more nourishing, I doubt not, than, to a strange palate, at least, 
 agreeable. Before this was passed round, one of the brethren rose, 
 and striking on a bell, pronounced a gi'ace, which was again repeated 
 during the repast. In the meantime a young monk had taken his 
 place beneath a small pulpit, and continued to read a homily while 
 we were eating. A certain proportion of raki was also handed 
 round to each of us in a saucer, like a pewter -bowl, with some red 
 Greek wine for myself. This formed the whole repast, which, how- 
 ever, seemed to be eaten with relish : when over, all rose and assem- 
 bled round the before-mentioned altar, and while incense filled the 
 room, a small piece of bread was broken and distributed to each, 
 and a \vine-cup was handed round, of which all present, including 
 myself, partook. To me the whole of this scene was exceedingly 
 afiecting ; it linked the present to the long bygone past — the feel- 
 ings of to-day, to those of the early Christian times ; — and when, 
 across intervening seas and mountains, my thoughts flew with elec- 
 tric speed to one dear to me by every tie, who at that hour was minis- 
 tering the bread of life in my native land, surrounded by groups and 
 usages vividly remembered, my heart swelled, my eyes well-nigh 
 filled, and I was compelled to rouse myself, or appear unmanned. 
 
 At the conclusion of this interesting service we all proceeded from 
 the refectory to an adjacent piazza, where coffee was handed round, the 
 young monk still continuing his homily, though the conversation was 
 now unrestrained. I had expressed a wish to see the charnel-house, 
 appropriated to the reception of the bodies of archbishops and others,
 
 THE CHARNEL-HOUSE. 85 
 
 whose memory is held in particular veneration, and which the monks 
 are not forward to exhibit ; but the Superior at once rose and proposed 
 showing it to me, while one or two others followed. It is a small low 
 building, partly underground, in the midst of the garden, divided 
 into two parts, communicating by a door ; while opposite is another 
 low vault, in which the bodies are exposed till the fleshy portion is 
 consumed ; the bones are then conveyed to the first of these chambers, 
 as to their final receptacle, and arranged, in ghastly sjnnmetry, arm- 
 bone to arm-bone, thigh-bone to thigh-bone, in a compact pile, with 
 a mass of upheaped skulls — from the remains of him who died yester- 
 day, and still lived in the memory of his fellow-monks, to him whose 
 forgotten remains, with their history, are written only in the book 
 of Omniscience — in a manner which testified reverence for the re- 
 mains of the dead, and presented an appearance far less shocking 
 than I have seen in the crypts and chamels under our own 
 cathedrals. In the second, or inner division, however, there were 
 objects that it was not easy to look on with indifference, or speedily 
 to forget. I have ever since had before me, and I seem to see now, 
 the skeleton of an anchorite, who appeared to have been conveyed 
 from the solitaiy cell in the mountains, just as he was found after 
 encountering alone the terrors of the last enemy, fixed in the 
 convulsive form that natui'e took in the parting struggle : the close 
 clenched hands, the emaciated head sunk on the bony chest, the 
 attitude of agonizing supplication — with some few rags of his hair- 
 shirt yet clinging to his frame — all gave to this skeleton the 
 ghastliness of life in death, and told of long years of self-inflicted 
 penance and solitary agony, endured by its parted tenant. 
 
 In a box close by were the remains of two hermits, traditionally 
 brothers, of exalted station, who, binding themselves by the leg 
 with a chain, also wore out a life of penitence and prayer in the 
 adjacent mountain. Could we know the histories of those whose 
 mouldering relics here lie before us, how often indeed might truth 
 appear stranger than fiction, reality beyond the wildest visions 
 of romance I 
 
 I dined in the old public eating-room, behind which are the other
 
 86 THE LIBRARY, ETC. 
 
 chambers mentioned by former travellers ; all being, together with a 
 kitchen and offices, in the same gallery, which is inscribed with the 
 names of numerous visitors, a few of whom are known to fame. 
 The new rooms are, of course, much more clean and comfortable. 
 I then made the tour of some few of the four-and-twenty chapels, 
 large and small, dedicated to saints of whom I never have heard, 
 and probably never shall, hidden away in different nooks and corners 
 of this interminable labyrinth : all description of these I spare the 
 reader. I also visited the library, which contains, according to 
 Bui-ckhardt, jfifteen hundred Greek books, and seven hundred Arabic 
 manuscripts, with some copies of the Bible, from the Bible So- 
 ciety, and a few stray books, left, perhaps, accidentally behind by 
 sojourners like myself; such as an odd volume of the Spectator, for 
 the heinous crime of introducing which pleasant book into such 
 ghostly company, a certain eccentric missionary, on the back of 
 a leaf, denounces the donor as worthy of " forty stripes save one :" 
 " a trim reckoning," and one which he would no doubt be as ready 
 to inflict, as he was once found worthy to receive for himself, in the 
 good cause, at the hands of the misbelieving Wahabees.* 
 
 The archbishop's rooms are handsomely enough famished in their 
 way, though now much tarnished. Several portraits, some of them 
 rather of striking character, adorn the walls. 
 
 To make an end of it we now penetrated a cluster of little courts 
 and passages, successively visited the storehouses, and workshops, 
 and forge ; the latter of course of the rudest description, but well 
 enough for the few and simple wants of the community : the monks 
 seem to succeed better in their distillery than in the other branches 
 of their internal economy ; and yet, as all appear healthy, and some 
 attain to a very great age, we must conclude that their moderate 
 indulgence in the fruits of their labours does them no serious injury. 
 About the courts we saw several of the brethren : the majority 
 seem plain, uncultivated men, of unawakened faculties ; but, with 
 all their superstition, and little mutual jealousies, deriving some- 
 thing of mental nobihty from the ideas with which the ritual of their 
 * WolfTs Journal.
 
 THE CHURCH. 87 
 
 religion must render them familiar. I believe I have now noticed 
 all that is remarkable in the interior of the convent. 
 
 I often revisited the church, which derives a peculiar and touching 
 interest from its being the only remaining place of Christian wor- 
 ship in the heart of this hallowed wilderness, which once resounded 
 with the chants of such numerous worshippers, as it has done also 
 with the triumphant cry of martyrs and confessors ; but where their 
 cells are vacant, their habitations ruined, and the last vestiges of 
 their shrines fast disappearing. I have already remarked upon the 
 care which the monks appear to take of their church. The interior 
 is simple, but impressive, having a nave, with rows of Byzantine 
 columns and arches, and a side-aisle, the roof being flat : the floor is 
 of inlaid marble. The altar-skreen is highly, but not tastefully, 
 decorated ; and, like the rest of the building, is ornamented with 
 pictures of saints, male and female, painted in the Byzantine style, 
 on a ground of gold. Numerous silver lamps add to the richness of 
 effect. The principal ornament of the building is a large mosaic on 
 the roof of the semicircular recess above the altar, representing the 
 Transfiguration, and having, in small ovals, portraits of Justinian 
 and his too celebrated wife Theodora. Behind the altar is the 
 chapel, over the spot where the burning bush is supposed to have 
 stood : upon it the utmost richness of decoration has been lavished ; 
 and the floor is covered with costly carpets : this holy spot 
 may not be visited without taking off one's shoes. The relics of 
 St. Catherine, whose body, after martyrdom at Alexandria, was 
 conveyed, according to tradition, to the summit of the neighbouring 
 mountain, to which she has given her name, are also preserved with 
 great veneration in another chapel. 
 
 The scanty, but very interesting, historical notices relating to the history 
 of Mount Sinai, are collected by Robinson, (Biblical Researches, vol. I.,) from 
 ■whom, and Burckhardt, I borrow a few brief particulars.—" The legend of 
 St. Catherine of Alexandria, who first fled to Sinai, and whose body, after 
 martyrdom at Alexandria, is said to have been carried by angels to the 
 summit of the mountain that now bears her name, is laid in the beginning of 
 tiie third or fourth century, about A.D. 307." Even before that period, how- 
 ever, these mountains had become the retreat of Egyptian Christians when
 
 oo NOTICE ON MOUNT SINAI. 
 
 persecuted, whence they were, nevertheless, sometimes dragged and sold as 
 slaves by the Saracens or Arabs. Wlien ascetic seclusion began to prevail, 
 solitary hermits resorted to this region ; and small communities gradually 
 grew up, which were constantly exposed to the attacks of the Saracens, and 
 several instances are recorded of their falling victims. It would appear that 
 Feiran at this time was a city and episcopal see. Justinian, whose passion for 
 building convents and churches seriously impoverished his already weakened 
 empire, compassionating the exposed situation of the anchorites of Sinai, 
 caused the present fortified convent and church to be erected for their pro- 
 tection. From this period the importance of this monastic community appears 
 to have gradually increased, while that of Feiran declined ; and before the close 
 of the tenth century, Sinai appears as a distinct bishopric, standing directly 
 under the Patriarch of Jerusalem. The progress of Mahoramedanism among 
 the Arab tribes around, exposed the numerous monasteries and cells, here 
 and about Mount Serbal, (supposed, by thetradition of the present convent, to 
 have numbered six or seven thousand inmates,) to additional perils from this 
 newly-awakened fanaticism ; and from this period they declined, though the 
 convent at Feiran is heard of till the fifteenth century. I have already ven- 
 tured to express the opinion that the Serbal was, in the earlier ages, con- 
 sidered as the real Sinai ; and that it was, as such, the object of pilgrimage 
 before the establishment of the convent ; though afterwards, as the im- 
 portance of Feiran declined, the supposed site became transferred. 
 
 After the crusades, a very numerous body of priests and lay brethren, under 
 an archbishop, were estabUshed, their number amounting, at one time, in 1336, 
 to more than four hundred, which declined gradually, until, in 1546, the number 
 was reduced to sixty, — the present number being about twenty. 
 
 At an early period it would seem that the convent had entered into a com- 
 pact with the surrounding Bedouins, to disarm their hostility. Certain clans 
 of the Tawarah are constituted its protectors, and are, in return, entitled to a 
 portion of bread when visiting either this convent or the branch convent at 
 Cairo : they have beside the exclusive right of conveying travellers. The 
 monks also distribute a supply of bread to their own Arab serfs, in time of 
 drought through this miserable region, when the poor Arabs are reduced to 
 the verge of starvation. ThLs is a heavy burden upon its resources, which con- 
 sist, chiefly, in its distant possessions, and the produce of its gardens here and 
 at Tor. 
 
 The archbishop no longer resides in the convent. It is said that were he to 
 visit it, the great gate, which has long since been walled up, would have to be 
 reopened for six months, during which time the Arabs would be entitled to 
 enter and to be entertained at will. Both the archbishop and superior are 
 elected by the council. 
 
 The monks are mostly Greeks, exceedingly illiterate : some remain but a 
 few years, while others spend the greater part of their lives in the convent. 
 Their discipline is very severe. " They are obliged to attend mass twice in the
 
 ASCENT OF DJEBBL MUSA. 89 
 
 day and twice in the night. Flesh is entirely forbidden them ; and, in their 
 great fast, they not only abstain from butter, and every kind of animal food 
 and fish, but also from oil, and live four days in the week on bread and boiled 
 vegetables, of which one small dish is all their dinner." 
 
 The gradually increasing lassitude and debility vrliicli I had now 
 for some days experienced, warned me not to attempt any excursion 
 requiring much pergonal effort ; neither, to confess the truth, after 
 having ascended the Serhal, and gained thence so complete an idea 
 of the peninsula, did I feel much inclination to clamber to the sum- 
 mit of the legendary Djebel Musa, which I considered as possessing 
 little or no Biblical, or even scenic, interest. Nor was I very 
 aesirous oi listening to the stupid legends with which the guides 
 are wont to cram the traveller on his way up, and with which, 
 as they had " come mended'' and more ludicrous from the pens of 
 the somewhat ungrateful, and to the minds of the narrators no 
 doubt ungracious, recipients, I was already sufficiently familiar. 
 However, I set off one morning, accompanied by Pietro and a young 
 laonk, with a havresac containing bread, coffee, and a bottle of raki, 
 proposing to attempt the thing if I felt well enough ; Komeh, with 
 his never-failing pipe and concomitant good-humour, bringing up 
 the rear with one or two stray Arab children. The line of ascent 
 has been already indicated, in the view of the convent, as rising by a 
 zigzag path up the side of the mountain, and which, by the industry 
 of the monks, has lost many of its difficulties, though still steep and 
 rugged enough, especially for an invalid. In about half-an-hour we 
 halted at a clear cold spring, under a sheltering rock, from a point 
 near which is a view down upon the convent, of a wild, desolate 
 grandeur. Here we ought to have heard the old story of the shoe- 
 maker, but Pietro was culpably remiss with the legends. Leaving 
 this pleasant halting- place, we caught sight of a small ruined cell 
 and garden, on the opposite side of the mountain, dedicated to St. 
 Episteme, once tenanted by a few nuns, an association which seems 
 to possess I know not what of feminine softness and tender roman- 
 tic melancholy, that relieves the harsh monastic dreariness of the
 
 90 ASCENT OF DJEBEL MUSA. 
 
 region. One would fain know their lile's story, and what drove them 
 to seek a living tomb in this gloomy Desert. But the last traces of 
 their habitation, with its little garden, are fast vanishing, and their 
 names and histories are quite forgotten. We now came into a deep 
 cleft, between two mighty crags, nearly full of huge blocks that have 
 fallen from above, but through which the monks have also made an 
 easy path, and advanced still higher, to what is called the Chapel of 
 the Virgin, — more properly " the Chapel of the Fleas,'' this being the 
 spot where the Virgin appeared to the despairing fraternity, and pro- 
 mised to charm away for ever these troublesome inhabitants of monk- 
 ish sackcloth, though a few are left behind, no doubt to keep them 
 on their good behaviour. Hence, turning to the right, we clambered 
 up to a narrow portal between tAVo rocks, where, in former ages, a 
 monk was stationed to confess the true pilgrim, and refuse admittance 
 to Jews and profane persons, if haply they dared to venture up so far. 
 To this gate, at a short distance, succeeded another, opening into a 
 little round grassy basin, hemmed in by a wilderness of rocky peaks ; 
 it comes sweetly on the eye, with its tall lone cypress standing in 
 the midst, like the milder genius of solitude — hard by is a well 
 of cold water under a fragment of rock ; and a mouldering chapel 
 stands at a few paces above. Had Milton seen this spot, he would 
 have certainly described it in his " Penseroso." In this retirement, 
 we made a repast of bread and coffee, with a dash of raki to keep 
 out the chill of the mountain air ; and here, feeling already very 
 tired, I would have lingered an hour or two, and then retm-ned to 
 the convent ; but the tardily awakened zeal of a pilgrim pushed 
 me on to further adventures. This Chapel of the Prophet Elijah 
 was built in honour of what a modern traveller curiously terms, 
 " his memorable interview with the Almighty," in Horeb ; but 
 whether, as he prudently observes, " this is the precise spot where 
 he heard the still small voice which followed the thunder and the 
 earthquake, can hardly be known with certainty." 
 
 Hence, as a true pilgrim, I ought to have scaled the top of 
 Djebel Musa, which towered above ; but the flame of my zeal had 
 burnt out, and I preferred returning to the convent El Arbain ; and 
 thus, after ascending slightly to a ' col' above this green bason, we
 
 MONKISH LOCALITIES. 91 
 
 began the steep descent of the other side, by an old and apparently 
 disused pathway. Here, rising to the height of eight thousand and 
 sixty-three Paris feet* from the glen into which we were descend- 
 ing, Mount St. Catherine opened upon us, but with only the 
 grandeur derived from its vast, sombre, and formless mass of gi-anite, 
 with its poetic tradition hanging over it, and which a German 
 painter has so exquisitely embodied. Artistically speaking, the scenery 
 on this excursion disappointed me : it is indeed dreary and savage, 
 but neither noble in form, nor picturesque in outline. We soon 
 caught sight of the forsaken convent El Arbain, with its garden, 
 and by a steep path, but one far easier than that on the other side, 
 reached it about noon. 
 
 This convent derives its name, " El Arbain'' the Forty, " from the 
 circumstance that the Arabs once took it by surprise, and killed the 
 forty monks who were its inmates. Hence it is called by the older 
 travellers, the Convent of the Forty Saints or Martyrs." It is very 
 much smaller than the convent of St. Catherine, and, gradually 
 neglected, has been, like many others in the peninsula, finally aban- 
 doned by the monks ; but a few Arab serfs yet attend to the 
 garden, which is tolerably extensive, and presents, in addition to the 
 same kind of verdui-e as that at St. Catherine, a grove of tall 
 poplars. There is little to detain any one in this lone, neglected 
 spot ; and I proceeded down the rugged ravine to go round to the 
 convent by the plain Er Rahah, passing a few Sinaitic inscriptions. 
 The rest lingered behind, so that I passed, without noticing it, the 
 curious " Ptock in Horeb," which (the idea being doubtless suggested 
 by its singular appearance) Moses is supposed to have struck to bring 
 forth water for the host, together with the spot where Aaron cast 
 the golden calf, and that, where Moses descending from the moun- 
 tain, dashed down and broke the tables of the law, the fragments 
 of which are still religiously believed to be buried under the rocks. 
 Altogether my pilgrimage to the monkish localities of Mount 
 Sinai was shamefully incomplete and heterodox ; but happily my 
 
 * Riippell.
 
 92 DEPARTUEE FROM THE CONVENT. 
 
 deficiencies in this respect have been more than made up by former 
 writers. 
 
 October 20. I had now spent several days within the convent walls 
 — had become, in a state of mental and bodily lassitude, half recon- 
 ciled to its dull routine, and, notwithstanding; the smallness of our 
 stock of ideas and topics in common, had by little and little esta- 
 blished a decidedly friendly feeling with the Superior, the Ikonomos, 
 the Librarian, the cook, and the old gardener ; meeting them every 
 evening on the convent teiTace overlooking the garden, when the sun 
 declined, and the shadows crept up the sun-ounding peaks, and all 
 was hushed and cool, and reciprocating our little store of comforts 
 and luxuries, I felt half loath to leave them and to launch again 
 upon the burning waste. Thus it is with the traveller ; no sooner 
 does he begin to grow to anything, than he is rudely torn from it ; 
 he no sooner begins to love, than he must hasten to forget ; and few 
 are the friendships that outlive the feverish hurry of his vagabond 
 course. I began therefore reluctantly to collect all my moveables, 
 accepted a skin of that confection of dates and almonds for which 
 the convent is famous, as well as a box of manna ; (for which little 
 presents of course an equivalent was given ;) distributed small 
 donations of tea, and other trifles, and, after bestowing the cus- 
 tomary and very moderate sums on the cook and others, conveyed 
 to the Superior the hundred piastres, which is the minimum of what 
 is usually given, as an offering for the hospitable shelter of the con- 
 vent. With a supply of bread for some davs we had already been 
 furnished, which was of course also paid for. 
 
 If our arrival at the convent was unnoticed, this could not be 
 said of our departure, for it was graced by a tumult and uproar 
 which might have awakened the dead. Immediately on first 
 reaching it, Umbarak and his Arabs had, as I have already said, dis- 
 persed to their tents in the mountains, with the understanding that 
 they were to reassemble in a few days. Knowing that they had 
 arrived, I despatched Ibrahim to negotiate for four camels instead 
 of five ; our reduced stores rendered the fifth animal quite unneces- 
 sary, as in fact it had been from the beginning ; and he returned
 
 AEAB TRICKERY. 
 
 93 
 
 with the message that four camels should be ready on the following 
 day. It was noon when Komeh, in a great passion, came running 
 in, to say that TJmbarak and a whole posse of his Arabs was be- 
 neath the gate, requiring that we should take five camels as before, 
 and refusing to proceed unless we did so. I went to the aerial portal, 
 and looking down below, saw the whole space blocked up with Um- 
 barak's friends and camels ; the Arabs, in fact, had combined to 
 get a hundred piastres out of me. Resolved, notwithstanding, 
 to make a strong demonstration before yielding, I held tight by 
 the rope, and leaning out, made a spirited but useless oration, 
 which Ibrahim translated as well as he could. Hereupon en- 
 sued a tremendous uproar, in the midst of which the bao-o-ao-e 
 was lowered ; and, parting from all the inmates of the convent, I 
 went out by a back way with the Superior. Umbarak slunk 
 aside, quite mortified ; for he felt, though he had succeeded in his 
 dirty trick, some of the camels at least being his, it was at the 
 loss of consideration and character, and was likely to injure him 
 with future travellers. Before the annoyance from this source of 
 discord had well ceased, a second was added ; the whole tribe of men- 
 dicant Arab women and children about the convent surrounded us 
 with importunate cries for " backshish ;" and though a pocket-full of 
 small coin was distributed among them, like a few drops on a 
 raging fire, it seemed only to increase the fury of their attacks. 
 The Superior, unable to moderate the clamour, laughingly wished 
 me good bye, and made his retreat, which I immediately accepted as 
 the signal for my own ; and darting off at a quick pace, left the 
 camels to follow. My persecutors dropped astern one by one, till 
 the distant hurly-burly died away, and left me once more to the 
 silence and solitude of the Desert. 
 
 With the full intention of returning to Cairo, by the way of 
 Sarabut el Khadim, we turned down Wady es Sheik, instead of taking 
 our old road by Nukb Hawi ; and for some time proceeded almost in 
 silence, leaving on our right the Arab tomb of Sheik Salih, much 
 venerated by the Arabs, and to which they perform pilgximao-e ;* 
 
 * Robinson.
 
 94 SUDDEN DEPARTURE TO PETRA. 
 
 and encamped for the niglit, about three hours distance from 
 the convent. The morning came, and while the camels were 
 loading, I proceeded on foot a little way in advance ; it was near 
 the fork of the roads leading to Akaba and Cairo, and it now 
 became necessary to decide finally, whether or not to renounce 
 Pctra, the chief object of my pilgrimage. I had already, in fact, 
 reasoned the matter for many an anxious hour at the convent, and 
 felt perfectly satisfied that it would be most highly imprudent in my 
 state of health, and with Ibrahim also sick, to attempt it ; yet now, 
 at the last moment, I could not give it up ; — I should most probably 
 never have another opportunity ; — and at last, like so many others 
 who are very wise and very prudent, till their hidden penchant sud- 
 denly blazes forth, followed the strongest motive at the decisive 
 instant, and like them too, no sooner had I resolved on having my 
 wish coutc qui coutc, than I began to find reasons in abundance 
 springing up to encourage me, while diflBculties vanished like the 
 morniuo- mist. I hastened back and astonished Komeh, by an- 
 nouncino- my sudden resolution to proceed with him alone ; and not 
 waiting to argue the matter, told Ibrahim he must return with 
 one of the camels, a bag of pro\asions, a water-skin, and the spare 
 tent ; scrawled a hasty note to my friends the Lieders, gave him 
 some dollars ; and in ten minutes he was on his way to Cairo. It 
 was well we did not attempt to take him on — abeady very unwell, 
 at Suez he broke down utterly, and after remaining there some time, 
 presented himself on my return to Cairo, wasted to a skeleton, and 
 hardly to be recognised. I was now thrown entirely on Komeh ; and 
 his fidelity and courage, ^vith his invincible good-humour, and 
 tact in managing the Arabs, highly valued as they had hitherto 
 been, proved, during the remainder of the journey, beyond all price. 
 In leaving Mount Sinai for Akaba, the solitude of the Desert 
 seems to deepen, and the prospect of possibly breaking down among 
 its remote defiles becomes more dreary and hopeless. One has no 
 longer the hospitable convent in perspective, but a country increasing 
 in wildness, and more and more insecure and remote from all chance 
 of assistance. It is, in addition, the most uninteresting part of the
 
 ROUTE FROM SINAI TO KADESH. 95 
 
 journey : no object is in prospect but far distant Petra, and there is 
 nothing on the way of any historical interest. I shall, therefore, 
 abridge my narrative of this dreary interval of our wanderings for 
 the reader, as we earnestly wished we could have abridged the journey 
 for ourselves. Yet there was one source of interest which I must 
 not omit to notice, and which continually recurs, and, indeed, al- 
 most haunts the mind, in passing through this, the very heart of 
 the " great and terrible wilderness,'' where scarcely a trace of human 
 footstep is to be met with, giving to it a solemn though often de- 
 pressing influence. If, indeed, after their many experiences of the 
 protection of their God, that race of Israelites who came forth from 
 Egypt were rejected for their unbelief on the very border of the Pro- 
 mised Land, and doomed to wear out their remaining days in this 
 horrible Desert, then there is not, probably, a nook of one of these 
 lonely defiles, " rock-ribbed and ancient as the sun " — not a solitary 
 spring among these arid mountains — which has not heretofore wit- 
 nessed the agony of the last parting, as, one by one, until the forty 
 years were fulfilled, the wearied progenitors of the Jewish race sunk 
 under their toils, and were consigned by their children to a desert 
 grave. — Here, theii, a whole nation has melted away, as the torrent 
 of the wilderness sinks into the thirsty sand, and leaves no trace — 
 
 " And millions in these solitudes, since first 
 The flight of years began, have laid them down 
 In their last sleep, the dead reign there alone." 
 
 There is Kttle to guide us in tracking the path of the Israelites 
 beyond Sinai ; indeed, it appears to have been rather a wandering, 
 than a direct course. The names of most of their halting-places 
 have utterly perished ; and, it must be borne in mind also, that if 
 Serbal was the real Sinai, their route thence towards Seir and 
 Kadesh-Bamea must needs have been quite different, probably by 
 Wady Sheik, and across the Tih, down Wady Kulakah to El Ain, 
 and then either by my o^vn route, down Wady Weteir to the sea, or 
 across the high desert from El Ain towards Ezion-Gaber and Edom. 
 Hazeroth, the third station after leaving Sinai, by the more direct
 
 96 EL AIN. 
 
 road to Akaba, is supposed by Burckhardt, in accordance with his 
 belief that Djebel Musa is the real Sinai, to be identical ^vith 
 the fountain El Hiidhera, which was at some distance on the right 
 of our road — an opinion confirmed by Robinson. " The identity of 
 the Hebrew and Arabic names," says the learned professor, "is 
 apparent, each containing the corresponding radical letters ;" and the 
 distance of eighteen hours from Sinai accords well with the hypo- 
 thesis. " The determination of this point," he adds, " is, perhaps, of 
 more importance in bibhcal history than would at first appear ; for, 
 if this position be adopted for Hazeroth, it settles at once the question 
 as to the whole route of the Israelites from Sinai to Kadesh. It 
 shows that they must have followed the route upon which we now 
 were to the sea, and so along the coast to Akaba, and thence, 
 probably, through the great Wady el Arabah to Kadesh. Indeed, 
 such is the nature of the country, that, having once arrived at this 
 fountain, they could not well have varied their course, so as to have 
 kept aloof from the sea, and continued along the high plateau of the 
 western Desert." To the latter opinion, however, some plausible 
 objections may be raised. It seems most probable that, if we reject 
 the supposition of a continual miracle, the course of the IsraeUtes 
 would be guided mainly by the few springs and fountains scattered 
 about the Desert, each of which would naturally prove a halting-place 
 — ^perhaps for some time — and that thus they would gradually advance 
 towards the borders of the Promised Land by the best watered rather 
 than by the most direct route. 
 
 Whether they departed from Feiran or the present Sinai, most pro- 
 bably they would come to El Ain, a noted spring in the heart of the 
 wilderness, which we reached towards the third evening after leaving 
 the convent, ha^ang first passed through a frightful burning Desert, 
 where we encountered but one solitary old Arab, who stared and 
 laughed with childish delight at such an unusual apparition as a 
 Frank, and remained long gazing at us in a fixed attitude till we 
 were lost among the distant defiles. This little patch of wild palm- 
 trees, with the surrounding Desert vegetation, has been compared to 
 Feiran ; and, although utterly undeserving of that honour, yet it is a
 
 FL AIN. 
 
 97 
 
 grateful sight in a region like that we had traversed. It is at the 
 foot of one of the ranges of El Tih, and a singular sandstone moun- 
 tain, in shape a truncated cone, rises beyond it, broken into strata 
 of the most fantastic colouring — red, white, yellow, and purple — 
 glaring and flaming under a cloudless sky. A small stream of living 
 water springs up out of the thirsty sand, and trickles down a narrow 
 glen, among broken tufts of reeds : our mouths, with those of the 
 c-amels, were at once applied to the welcome refreshment ; the skins 
 
 '- n 
 
 were filled ; and we proceeded down the bed worn by the little stream, 
 which meandered through the valley, and took a direction towards a 
 cleft in the mountain range. Almost as if by magic, we found 
 ourselves gliding into the jaws of a gloomy defile — the sandstone 
 gave place to the dark purple hue of the porphyry, precipices of which 
 rose higher and higher, with the most awful grandeur I ever beheld, 
 scarce leaving a narrow space below, through which the small stream 
 glided noiselessly, nourishing here and there a wild palm or two, 
 till it was lost in the sand. It was impossible to shake off the in- 
 fectious mekncholy inspired by this desolate region. The pass 
 opened a little, and we encamped among a few bushes fringing a 
 small rise of soil, deposited by the eddy of the winter torrent, which 
 sweeps down this gorge, hemmed in on all sides by tremendous 
 

 
 98 WADY WETEIR. 
 
 mountains. We kindled a large fire : the howlings of the hyena 
 and jackal, now shrill and blood-curdling, startled us with their 
 iilmost immediate vicinity ; then echoing wildly, were half lost among 
 the distant cliffs ; and ever and anon, through the lone watches of 
 the night, burst forth, like the wailings of some unquiet spirit, 
 haunting the scene of bygone wickedness. Komeh, seated with his 
 pipe before the fire, dilated on his perils in Abyssinia — his nightly 
 bi\ouac in the midst of lions, only kept at a distance by the glare of 
 the fires ; and then, closing my tent door, stretched himself on a 
 mat across the entrance, with the pistols ready at hand. This 
 terrific defile is called Wady Weteir. 
 
 October 23. The whole of this day we were engaged in the further 
 descent of Wady Weteir to the sea. This wady, everywhere sunk 
 between lofty mountains, appears to be the great drain of this region, 
 and a powerful torrent sweeps down it in winter, depositing here and 
 there a sediment upon which a little verdure springs up. The sandy 
 bed of the valley was curiously marked with numerous tracks of 
 wild beasts and birds — the hyena, jackal, fox, gazelle, partridges, 
 and the sinuous trail of serpents, &c. Not till towards evening we 
 fell in with a few Arab women and flocks. Never was anything 
 more dreary than this route, till at length, at the close of the day, 
 we caught our first sight of the blue gulf of Akaba, which we hailed 
 as a token of our deliverance from the seemingly interminable defiles 
 of the peninsula, for we might now follow its bright borders all the 
 way to the city from which it is named. 
 
 No incident of the least mark occurred till our arrival at Akaba, 
 on the third afternoon from our reaching the shore of the gulf. We 
 were here on the track of Robinson, who has described, with his 
 characteristic fidelity and minute accuracy, every inflection of the 
 coast, and noted the mouth of every wady, at its point of junction 
 with the sea. This journeying by the sea-side was truly delightful, 
 after penetrating the interior ; and we rambled along the shore, 
 picking up shells, and revelling in the fresh breeze, while the 
 camels pursued a more direct course. In some places the mountains 
 descend close down to the sea ; in others, recede and leave small
 
 ■1
 
 THE GULF OF AKABA. 99 
 
 plains, dotted with scanty verdure ; and towards Akaba we paced 
 round beautiful inlets, so transparent that the fish might be seen 
 sporting, far beneath the translucent wave, among beds of coral. 
 The gulf is about ten miles wide in the centre, narrowing gradually 
 as it runs up to Akaba, and is everywhere bordered with grand, 
 though desolate, mountains. At length we gladly caught sight of 
 this, our temporary halting-place, though we could reasonably 
 anticipate little else than torment during our stay there. It first 
 appeared in a dark grove of palms, as we began to round the head 
 of the gulf, peeping in between the bold and rugged headlands 
 of the coast and the ruins of a castle on a rocky island, supposed by 
 Schubert to have been the ancient Ezion-Geber, at a short distance 
 from the shore. This castle is evidently of the middle ages, of 
 pointed architecture, and must have been of some extent ; it was 
 considered formerly as the citadel of Ailah, the Elath of the 
 Bible ; though, if that city was as distant as Akaba, one is at a 
 loss to understand the propriety of such a designation : this led me 
 to look attentively at the coast in passing, with the idea that the 
 island might have stood out as both a fort and a shelter for shipping 
 belonging to the ancient town of Ezion-Geber, noticed in scripture 
 as "near" or "by Elath," on the shore ; but I could fix on no place 
 which appeared sufficiently eligible, or which presented any traces 
 of niins. It is not improbable, however, that Wady Tabe, some 
 way further on, is the ancient site ; and that here, indeed, Ezion- 
 Geber really stood, afterwards called Berenice by Josephus. This 
 fortress was, at any rate, a stronghold in the time of the Crusades, 
 " and was unsuccessfully besieged with ships by the impetuous 
 Rainald of Chatillon in 1182 ;" and about a century later aban- 
 doned for the castle at Akaba. Its mouldering towers and 
 embattled walls, traced irregularly along the jagged precipices 
 overhanging the sea, form a noble picture, and give back, at least, 
 the associations of a stirring age to fill the utter void of the present. 
 Rounding the angle of the gulf we reached the edge of the broad 
 Wady el Arabah, which here comes down to it from the Red Sea, 
 bounded on each side by a range of mountains, and could look
 
 100 ARRIVAL AT AKABA. 
 
 far up it towards the heights of Edom. We were pacing slowly 
 round the border of the gulf, and the beautiful palm- grove of Akaba 
 was beginning to open upon us, when we met some Arabs, from 
 whom we learned that the son of Sheik Hussein, named Muhammed, 
 a youth about eighteen, was then at the castle, his father being 
 at Cairo to escort the Mecca pilgrims, who, in a few days, were ex- 
 pected to leave that city, and to pass, of coui'se, through Akaba. 
 This was indeed most gratifying intelligence ; fii'st, as it saved 
 the time, often two or three days, lost in sending for the Sheik 
 of the Alawin Arabs, before negotiations could be entered into ; 
 and, in the second place, because w^e hoped that it would be some- 
 what easier to make a fair bargain with this youngster, new to *;he 
 business, than with his cunning old father, who had grown grey 
 amid practices of the most shameful extortion from the unfortunate 
 Franks that fell into his clutches, and would not fail, I was sure, tc 
 take the fullest advantage of our situation. It was in high spirits 
 then that we reached the palm-groves intermingled with gardens, 
 picturesquely scattered along the margin of the beach, and pitched 
 the tent on a rising ground beneath their shade, with the sea beneath, 
 bending beautifully round the end of the gulf, fringed with palms, 
 bavins: a backoround of distant mountains, with the mounds of Ailah 
 on the right-hand, and the old castle-\^'all liehind us — a spot one 
 might imagine to be sacred to everything gentle and beautiful. 
 
 It has not, I believe, been explained that the different tribes of 
 Bedouins scattered about Aralna Petraea have each the prescriptive 
 right of conducting travellers through their respective territories, 
 and of furnishing them with camels ; consequently, the Tor Arabs, 
 who had brought us from Cairo and Mount Sinai, would not 
 be allowed to escort us through the country of the Ala'v\'in, which 
 extends from Akaba up to Petra, the route we were now to pursue. 
 Taking advantage of the traveller's peculiar position at this place, 
 on his way to Hebron and Palestine, when he has no alternative, 
 if pressed for time, but to accede to any terms, however exorbitant, 
 or give up seeing Petra on his way ; and making use of the pretence 
 that this part of the country, being very insecure, requires extra
 
 NEGOTIATIONS. 101 
 
 guards, Tvhicli, although it might Ibrmerly have been, is now no 
 longer the case, Hussein, the Sheik of the Alawin, has generally 
 extorted, for the use of his camels, a sum double or treble that 
 required by the Tor Arabs for the use of theirs, although even that 
 is far too large. Emboldened by the success which had usually 
 crowned his dogged perseverance, he took advantage of the passage 
 of Lord Castlereagh, to demand a most enormous sum for convey- 
 ing him, with his suite, to Hebron ; upon which his lordship, after 
 conveying to him his ultimatum, and on its being declined, went by 
 a aiflferent route to Hebron, and from thence visited Petra ; thus 
 disappointing the old extortioner when he felt sure of his prize. 
 
 With a scion of this worthy personage we had now to treat, and 
 soon discovered, to our sorrow, that the qualities of the father had 
 descended quite unimpaired to the son. Sheik Muhammed came 
 to the tent, accompanied by a few advisers of his tribe, and the sub- 
 governor of the castle, whose object, I suppose, was to see fair play 
 between the parties. The young Sheik had a look of desert blood 
 and breeding about him, a general dehcacy and refinement of appear- 
 ance, and superior manners ; but his full, dark, half-languishing eye, 
 probably a copy of his Arab mother's, somehow or other never would 
 look one in the face ; and the optics of the whole party, indeed, 
 seemed infected with a curious obliquity of direction, too plainly 
 derived from conscious rascality, and ominous of high prices. 
 
 They formed a circle round the interior of the tent ; pipes and 
 coffee were brought, without which nothing can be effected here, and 
 when the clouds of smoke began to mount Komeh commenced nego- 
 tiations, while I affected to sit in a state of dignified indifference. 
 ]My arrangements were not those usual with travellers, who generally 
 jroceed direct from Petra to Jerusalem ; for having already been 
 twice in Syi'ia, it was my intention, after visiting Petra, to return 
 to Akaba, and cross the high desert to Cairo, meeting, if possible, 
 the Caravan on its march. This would add some ten days at least 
 to the usual time expended, and we anticipated, of course, a corres- 
 punoing demand ; yet, when the young sheik, after a little whisper- 
 ing, put forth a demand of five thousand piastres, or fifty pounds
 
 102 DISAPPOINTMENT. 
 
 sterling, for the number of six camels only, all patience forsook us 
 at once. On such occasions nothing is more provoking than to find 
 that you cannot make your Avrath intelligible. In the choicest 
 broken English and Italian, I now desired Komeh to tell him that 
 the Alawin had made the name of the Bedouin to stink in an 
 Englishman's nostrils ; that I would never be foolish enough to pay 
 such a sum ; that we were not going to Syria from Petra, but return- 
 ing to Cairo ; and that unless by noon the following day they came 
 to reasonable terms, I would not waste another moment, but would 
 then set off there direct, denounce them to the Consul, and prevent 
 a single traveller from taking that route to Petra. A stormy alter- 
 cation now ensued between Komeh and the rest of the conclave ; all 
 howled and gesticulated simultaneously, without respect of persons, 
 the commonest Arab being here on a level with the sheik, and 
 at liberty to give his opinion with his utmost stress of lungs. At 
 length the whole body departed, declaring positively, that I should see 
 nothing of Petra, unless I acceded to their terms. 
 
 This was an unexpected issue, but happily materials of conso- 
 lation were at hand : Akaba ju'oved to be a little Goshen ; fish, 
 flesh, and fowl, fresh fruit and vegetables, came pouring in ; a sup- 
 ply of bread was ordered for the following morning ; and in the en- 
 joyment of the best dinner we had compassed since leaving Cairo, 
 I endeavoured to forget the antecedent tribulations. 
 
 We had got rid for a while of the Arabs and their clamour, 
 they had retired to discuss the matter in all its bearings, and were 
 probably for hours in noisy conclave, but, for the moment, it touched 
 me not. The sun, whose noon-day beams had shone upon a scene 
 of furious debate, now sunk in glory behind the hills of the west- 
 em wilderness ; the sea murmured gently at the foot of the waving 
 palms ; — the Mughreby soldiers of the little fortress came down to 
 the sands to pray ; I left my tent, and strolled along the cool 
 shore : there, one might have fancied one's self on tlie edge of some 
 green island of the Southern Ocean, so sweetly did tlie thick verdure 
 hem in the rippling waves, so lonely and solitary was the place, at 
 but a stone's throw from my tent ; and there too were the ruinous
 
 DISPUTES WITH THE ALAWIN. 103 
 
 mounds of that ancient Elatli, near the Ezion-Geber where Solomon 
 built ships to go in search of the luxuries of India, dmino- the brief 
 period wherein the Jews rose to commercial importance ; but not a 
 speck of a sail now appeared on the solitary gulf. 
 
 October 27. The morning came, which was to decide our contro- 
 versy with the Alawin, but no abatement of their demands had been 
 proposed. I was in heavy mood. To have come all this way round 
 out of the direct road from the convent to Cairo, at a great extra loss 
 of time and money, and not to see Petra, which now presented itself 
 to the imagination as still more strange and romantic than ever, 
 when seemingly obhged to renounce the idea of visiting it, was 
 enough utterly to ovem helm one's spirits. Of all this my persecu- 
 tors were doubtless well aware, and counted upon it to undermine my 
 resolution ; but I had folly resolved not to yield. They did not renew 
 the negotiation, but still remained apart in unintermitting conclave, 
 (for nothing can tire out an Arab,) and eyeing my movements askance 
 from the distance. Of all things, suspense is the most harassing, 
 and peculiarly so to a soHtary wanderer, beset with hostile knaves, 
 and with no one to back him. — I came therefore to a resolution at 
 once, and desired Komeh to strike the tent, and prepare to depart 
 for Cairo ; having detained the Arabs who brought me from the 
 convent, as otherwise we should have been without any means either 
 of retreat or of advance. Our preparations progressed rapidly, the 
 camels were soon ready, and beckoning to Komeh to bring them on 
 after me, I advanced slowly along the beach. The Arabs had not 
 counted upon this sudden move, for we could see them getting into 
 high clamour ; and the sheik, with one or two of his confederates, 
 came running in haste to Komeh, and wliispered in his ear, that 
 he was willing to come down to four thousand piastres, (forty 
 pounds.) This was rejected without hesitation, and we kept still on 
 our way, the camels following. I could see now that the right thing 
 had been done ; the piastres were slipping off like Lord Castlereagh's, 
 and after a little more desperate gesticulation among themselves, at 
 which I could not help laughing in my sleeve, Komeh was a 
 second time brought to, and another thousand piastres were struck
 
 104 SUCCESS. 
 
 oif their exorbitant demand, which brought it down to something 
 a Uttle nearer to the bounds of moderation. This gave me pause, 
 and -vve all clustered beneath the shadow of a palm. For the time 
 and distance, the sum appeared less than any preceding traveller, of 
 whom I ever heard, had got off for, and I agreed to it ; but so eager 
 was IMuhammed to clutch the money, that he wanted to make it a 
 condition, that the whole should be paid in advance. This pleasant 
 proposition, however, I parried by another, namely, that he should 
 receive one half at Akaba, in presence of the Governor, who should 
 draw up a contract, and mtness the payment ; and that not a 
 piastre more should be given, till our arrival at the Consulate in 
 Cairo : this carried, the sheik next said he could not start for two 
 days. But the idea of such a delay was insupportable ; besides, it 
 was now my turn, and we had taken but a few paces forward, before 
 Muhammed promised to set off at noon the following day, while we 
 resolutely declined paying anything until he was ready to start. 
 The tent repitched, all now repaired to it; Muhammed bore my 
 hand to his head, in token of amity and good faith ; the Governor, 
 who privately declared to Komeh, that he had been instrumental in 
 bringing about this blessed result, seemed highly pleased, and 
 hoped I would give him what Komeh called a " little carreter" at 
 parting : I was then left to kill the time as I best could, till the 
 following noon. 
 
 The Castle, or rather walled enclosure, stood on a rising ground 
 at a «hort distance behind my tent, but my troubles had so absorbed 
 me, that I had hitherto neglected to visit it. It is an oblong 
 quadrangle, strengthened by towers at the corners, and having a 
 bold and deep gateway on the north side ; presenting altogether, a 
 striking appearance ; the masonry, of alternate layers of red and 
 white, adding to the picturesque character of the building. Accord- 
 ing to Burckhardt, it was erected by the Sultan el Ghoreeh, in the 
 sixteenth century, as the third fortified station on the route of the 
 pilgrimage to Mecca ; the first from Cairo being Ajrud, near Suez ; 
 and the second N(ikl, on the high Desert, which we took on our 
 way back. These stations, are at about three days' journey from
 
 FORTllESS OF AKABA. 105 
 
 one another, and at each of them is a deep well, for the use of the 
 caravan. Akaba is the most important of the three ; but the in- 
 terior of the building answers but poorly to its striking external 
 appearance, being simply a large court, with a well and ranges of 
 magazines for storing provisions, and with slighter erections above, 
 the whole having a miserable, broken-down look, which convinced 
 me that we had done well in pitching the tent without ; to say 
 nothing of the freedom from petty annoyances thus attained. 
 Some thirty soldiers, mostly, as it seemed to me, Mughreby, or 
 western Africans, inhabit the fortress, including the Governor, then 
 absent at Cairo to escort the caravan, together with his officious 
 subordinate already mentioned, a gninner, and commissary of the 
 stores, who is, in fact, of the most importance. These hold the 
 castle for Mehemet Ali, and appear to be on the best terms with 
 the surrounding Arabs, of whom a little colony has grown up 
 around it, dwelling among the palm-trees ; there are also a few 
 small stone hovels, occupied by petty dealers, by whose assistance 
 we replenished our stores, at of course rather high prices, especially 
 as the caravan was expected in about a fortnight, and pro"\dsions 
 were up. 
 
 October 28. Muhammed, finding no piastres forthcoming, was 
 true to his word, and before noon his camels were assembled, A^^th their 
 g-uides, as wild-looking a set of fellows as one would wish to see. 
 The sub-governor, provisory secretary, and Muhammed, then repaired 
 to my tent, and with the usual pipes and coffee came on the sign- 
 ing and witnessing : the secretary having begged of me a piece of 
 paper, wrote out before us the conditions, which were then read 
 aloudj and the tenor of which may be inferred from what has already 
 been said. I then poured forth on the carpet a heap of gold ten- 
 piastre pieces ; Muhammed's eye glistened with delight, he stamped 
 the end of his finger on the wax, then again bore my hand to 
 his head ; and if he ever looked sincere in his life, did so at that 
 moment. To do him justice, he fulfilled the conditions punctu- 
 ally, and never troubled us for another para till we were near 
 Cairo. The Governor received also his " little carreter,'' which set 
 
 p
 
 106 WADY EL \RABAII. 
 
 forth, that he had done his best to serve the Frank traveller ; a 
 document which, ridiculons as it may seem, might possibly be of 
 some small service to him at Cairo ; probably also he got a taste of 
 Sheik ]\Inhammed's piastres. I gave him nothing, nor did he ask, 
 being just then on his dignity ; but the secretary received a little 
 douceur for his friendly services, in which they probably went 
 snacks behind the scenes. As soon as he had issued forth from 
 the tent ; IMuhammed was surrounded by his Arabs, all craving 
 their just proportion of the precious instalment, for the hire of 
 their respective camels ; whether they got it, however, may be ques- 
 tioned. In the meantime, Komeh was urging everything for- 
 ward, and about noon we paced oflF from the castle, with the salu- 
 tations of our official friends. 
 
 The road to Petra soon passes the mounds of Ailah, or Elath, 
 which subsisted as late as the Mohammedan conquest ; it then 
 ascends the broad Wady el Arabah, which, as before observed, 
 here comes down to the head of the gulf, in a line from the 
 Dead Sea, indeed forming a continued depression, or "crevasse," 
 from the head of the Jordan near IMount Hermon, to its embouchure 
 at this place, and giving rise to the very natural impression, that 
 the waters of that river once flowed down by this channel direct 
 into the Gulf of Akaba. Subsequent and more exact examination 
 has, however, shown, that this is an erroneous idea, the level of 
 the Dead Sea being, in fact, lower than that of the Gulf of Akaba ; 
 the Wady el Arabah besides, being clearly divided into two slopes, 
 rising from the Red Sea northward to a definable point, and then 
 descending, by a longer and deeper declivity, to the lower level 
 of the Dead Sea. On the subject of this division of the 
 waters, and the point where it occurs, I shall make a few remarks 
 hereafter. 
 
 On leaving Akaba the valley appears nearly level, or slightly as- 
 cending, and, judging by the eye, some three miles or more in 
 width from the mountains on its western side, which support the 
 plateau of the great high desert El Tih, to those on the eastern, 
 which are much bolder in formation, and form the outworks of the
 
 WADT EL ARABAH. 107 
 
 mountain fastnesses of Edom, through which was a road to 
 Petra, the capital, abounding in strong posts, the ruins of which 
 have been described by Laborde, on his return journey from that 
 place. The Wady el Arabah itself, is a scorching and sultry desert, 
 very toilsome to traverse ; yet from very early times it was the high- 
 way from Ezion-Geber and Elath to different stations in Palestine, 
 for the caravans bearing the riches of the East. When the Israel- 
 ites were refused admission through the strong and well-guarded 
 mountain territory of Edom, they were compelled to make a 
 circuit around it, and thus fall upon the territory of the Moabites. 
 Robinson supposes that the point whence they ascended from the 
 Arabah, for this purpose of " compassing Edom," was by Wady el 
 Ithm, to the east of Akaba. A reference to the Map will render 
 these remarks more interesting and intelligible to the reader. 
 
 We encamped this evening at sunset among hillocks of sand, 
 worked up by the action of the winds, and adorned with wild 
 tamarisk. Escaped from Akaba and its squabbles, I enjoyed a 
 calm satisfaction ; we were fairly on our way, and upon calculation 
 I found that, by pushing on, 1 might spend two or three days at 
 Petra, and return in time to meet the Mecca caravan on its way 
 across the Desert, a cherislied object which I was fortunately in 
 the end enabled to accomplish. 
 
 October 29. Still ascending the Arabah, and, like the Israelites of 
 old in the same region, " much discouraged because of the way." The 
 sands are deep, the climate sultry, and the holes of " fiery serpents and 
 scorpions," unpleasantly abundant ; though, as it happened, we fell 
 in with neither. The principal object of our boy-sheik, Muhammed, 
 seemed to be to make the shortest possible journeys. About three 
 o'clock, coming to a place abounding in shrubs, he proceeded to 
 unload his camel, the Avhole tribe of savage conductors declaring 
 this to be the onlif spot where forage was to be had ; but as I 
 proceeded quietly forward, my Alawin guides, though very in- 
 dignant, were compelled to follow, until, after marching till near 
 sunset, we came to a halt at a station equally eligible in all respects. 
 It is necessary to be very determined with these men, or they soon
 
 108 
 
 MAQANHEM. 
 
 bcicome your masters ; had I given way to them I should have 
 returned just too late to meet the caravan. On the second evening 
 that we encamped in the burning Arabah, we were joined by sundry 
 wild retainers of our sheik : one of these, named Maganhem, had 
 such an air of intelligence and honesty, that I at once adopted him 
 as body-guard and cicerone to all the localities of Mount Hor and 
 Petra. He afterwards returned with us to the same spot, where 
 I dismissed him with a pouch of well-merited piastres, and sketched 
 his portrait at parting. 
 
 A CICERONE AT FETRA. 
 
 I preceded the camels on foot, anxious for a sight of the moun- 
 tains of Petra, which I knew could not now be very far distant. 
 At length, early on the third morning, from a rising ground at the 
 point culminant of the Arabah, they rose finely to the eastward ;
 
 ^^r^^ 
 
 MOUNTAINS OF EDOM. 
 
 109 
 
 ''' stem and wild, with the dark jagged peaks of Mount Hor like 
 a lonely beacon projecting into the Desert waste. With what a 
 thrill of pleasure one catches sight of any of these old historic 
 mountains, whose venerable names have mingled with our earliest 
 associations, Lebanon, and Carmel, and Tabor — what a poetry hangs 
 about them ! Mount Seir, the fastnesses of Edom, the hold of the 
 " dwellers in the rock/' looked wild and desolate, as though the ban 
 of prophetic denunciation still rested on its blighted crags ; and 
 it was with indescribable, and almost painful excitement, not 
 unmingled with awe, that I hastened towards their sombre defiles. 
 We passed an old tower on an isolated rock, a tomb or gniard-house, 
 on the approach to the difficult and easily-defended pass which gives 
 access to Petra, and about noon reached the entrance of the ravine 
 (Wady A'bchebe) which leads up to it. Our caravan toiled pain- 
 fully along the dried bed of the torrent, encumbered with rocks, and 
 with the unchecked luxuriance of the oleander trees, covered in their 
 season with their thousand flowers of brilliant crimson : there were 
 traces of ancient constructions, at different points, along this once 
 bustling highway to the great emporium of Edom. We descended 
 from our camels, and their burdens being more equally divided, 
 toiled up the pass on foot. Another caravan, four days from Gaza, 
 preceded us ; its conductors gazed at us with the ignorant cvxriosity 
 of savages, and we fraternised with them around a spring, where, 
 crouching down without respect of persons, we drank a few palmfuls 
 of the precious element ; and thus refreshed, pushed on, leaving our 
 groaning camels to come up at their leisure. From the summit of 
 the peak is a boundless Desert prospect ; after that a gradual 
 descent, leading a short distance from the base of Mount Hor. 
 
 The first view of this hoary peak was almost fearfully wild. At a 
 distance, near its foot, appeared a huge black mass, which we could 
 not at first make out ; on nearer approach it proved to be the 
 carcase of a camel, which had recently died, as have thousands before 
 him, from exhaustion, after traversing this most ancient and rugged 
 commercial pass. The vultures of Mount Seir had but newly 
 scented their prey, and, to the number of some twenty, were so
 
 w dem 
 
 1 10 NOTICES OF PETRA. 
 
 deeply engaged in their feast, that they would not stir till we were 
 close upon them, then, flapping their huge dun wings, they rose 
 reluctantly and slowly, wheeling ofi" to a short distance, and stand- 
 ing in dark groups, impatiently waiting until the intruders had 
 passed, and they could return to complete the work their horrid in- 
 stinct prompted. The camel's mouth was open, an expression of 
 pain was upon his sunken \nsage, his eyes had already been picked 
 from their ghastly sockets, the blood had gushed from his body, and 
 lay in a dark pool upon the ground, a liideous spectacle ! The 
 stem and isolated peaks of the mountain, with the traditional tomb 
 of Aaron, rose behind. Here we came to a halt, Komeh declaring 
 it impossible for the camels to proceed farther ; we were besides but 
 two hours' distance from Petra, the object of our long pilgrimage. 
 
 Before proceeding further, it may be well to recall briefly the 
 scanty historical notices of this long-lost city, and the romantic inci- 
 dents of its discovery and recent explorations. 
 
 Its origin is hidden in dim, remote antiquity, and its records are 
 vague and scanty. Edom itself, the mountain region extending 
 ^xTrom Moab to the Red Sea, was occupied at the period of the Exodus 
 y the descendants of Esau, who had themselves expelled the 
 Horites, the original inhabitants ; and when the Israelites, having 
 penetrated to the borders of their territory, on their way to the Pro- 
 mised Land, sought permission to pass through it, it was refused 
 them, and a bitter hostility seems ever afterwards to have prevailed 
 between the children of Esau and of Jacob. At a later period, 
 David made himself master of the country, and Solomon established 
 at Ezion-Geber, already, perhaps, a trading-port, a naval station, 
 whence he dispatched his fleets to Ophir. The Jews, however, could 
 not hold permanent possession of Edom, though, after a temporary 
 revolt, Amaziah captured one of their chief cities, (Sola, Rock- 
 Petra,) and changed its name to Joktheel. In their turn, the 
 Edomites, during the declining power of Judah, held possession of a 
 portion of her territory, but were reduced by the Maccabees ; and 
 Idumea, by which name was included Edom and the southern part 
 of Palestine, was governed by Jewish prefects. Meanwhile, but at
 
 m 

 
 NOTICES OF PETRA. Ill 
 
 what period is uncertain, the Edomites would seem to have been 
 expelled from the southern part of their own territory, and from their 
 chief city, by the Nabathaeans, another nomadic Arabian tribe, who 
 had spread themselves from the Euphrates to the borders of Palestine, 
 and who gradually established the kingdom of Arabia Petrsea, which 
 subsisted in nominal independence till reduced by Trajan to the 
 Roman sway^j^fnere are various notices of Arabia Petrjea and its 
 rulers in JfJsephus. Antigonus, one of Alexander's successors, after 
 reducing Syria and Palestine, sent also an expedition against this 
 mountain kingdom ; Athenaeus, its leader, succeeded in surprising 
 the city, during the absence of the men at a mask ; but was, in his 
 turn, surprised, and routed with great loss, and, on a second attack, 
 the inhabitants, being forewarned, placed their wealth in a place of 
 security, and dispersed into the fastnesses of the mountains. One 
 of the sovereigns of Arabia Petrsea, Aretas, mentioned by St. Paul, 
 had even succeeded in obtaining temporary possession of Damascus, 
 by defeating the army of Herod Antipas, the Jewish monarch, and 
 profiting by the weakness and distraction of the Roman government 
 in Syria. 
 
 The commerce of Petra is, doubtless, of very ancient origin. Dr. 
 Vincent, in his " Commerce and Navigation of the Ancients," 
 says : " The caravans, in all ages, from Minea, in the interior of 
 Arabia, and from Gerrha, on the Gulf of Persia, from Hadramant, 
 on the ocean, and some even from Labea, in Yemen, appear to have 
 pointed to Petra as a common centre ; and from Petra the trade 
 seems to have again branched out into every direction, to Egypt, 
 Palestine, and Syria, through Arsinoe, Gaza, Tyre, Jerusalem, 
 Damascus, and a variety of intermediate routes, all terminating 
 on the Mediterranean. There is every proof that is requisite to 
 show that the Tyrians and Sidonians were the first merchants who 
 introduced the produce of India to all the nations which encircled 
 the Mediterranean ; so is there the strongest evidence to prove that 
 the Syrians obtained all then- commodities from Arabia. But if 
 Arabia was the centre of this commerce, Petra was the point to 
 which all the Aral)ians tended from the three sides of their vast
 
 112 COMMERCE OF PETRA. 
 
 peninsula/' Strabo says that the merchandise of India and Arabia 
 was transported from Leuke Kome, (see Map,) an emporium of the 
 Nabathajans, on the east coast of the ^lanitic Gulf, by camels to 
 Petra, and thence distributed to Rhinocolura (El Arish) and other 
 places. ]\Iilitary posts were established along the principal roads, of 
 one of which, from Ailah ( Akaha) to Petra, through the mountains 
 of Edom, east of the Arabah, traces were found by Laborde, with 
 the sites of ruined towns, as was also its continuation to Damascus 
 by Burckhardt, and Irby and Mangles. 
 
 Under the Romans, this commerce still continued to exist and 
 flourish ; indeed, it is to this period, or that immediately pre- 
 ceding it, that we must refer the more splendid monuments of Petra, 
 which, like those of Palmyra, were the results of wealth accruing 
 from a long-established and successful, but more ancient, com- 
 mercial route between the East and the West. On the question 
 as to how far back may go the origin of the simpler and ruder of 
 those monuments, their respective dates, and whether, as Irby and 
 Mangles suppose, the peculiar architecture of many may be deemed 
 an original invention, or rather suggested by their intercourse with 
 other countries, more light yet remains, perhaps, to be thrown. 
 Christianity appears to have spread through this region, and Petra 
 was established as the metropolitan see of the province of Palestina 
 Tertia. Ailah, which supplanted the ancient Ezion-Geber, Feiran, 
 which, as we have already stated, was supposed from an early period 
 to have been a station on a commercial route frequented by the 
 Tyrians, or, perhaps, the Idumeans, also about this period became 
 the seat of Christian communities. Whatever may have been the 
 religion of the nomadic tribes that wandered, from time immemorial, 
 about the Desert, whether they yet retained the Sabean sidereal 
 worship, or became, in any measure, converts to Christianity, is 
 hidden in the same darkness that now rapidly gathers over all the 
 subsequent annals of this land. Mohammedanism at length seems to 
 have swept over the whole region, and to have united the diflfcrent 
 Arab tribes into a temporary fanaticism, which has given place in 
 modem times, to a cold and nominal profession of Islamism. The
 
 ITS FINAL RUIN. 113 
 
 Christian communities, at first exempted by tribute from the invasion 
 of their liberties, appear at length, whether from persecution, or the 
 general decay of the country, to have perished from the land, and 
 have left no trace of their former establishment but the solitary 
 convent of Mount Sinai, which the security of walls, and the tribute 
 to the surrounding Arabs, has preserved from the general ruin. 
 Among the rest, Petra, the gorgeous, appears to have sunk, after 
 its many ages of splendour, into the long night of its final ruin. 
 Alexandria had now become the centre of the trade between 
 the East and the West ; the establishment of the ports of Berenice 
 and Coptos on the Red Sea obviated the necessity of the dangerous 
 navigation of its upper extremity, and from thence, by caravans, the 
 wealth of the East was transferred to the Nile, and thus conveyed 
 to the great emporium : various causes combined to divert the course 
 of trade into other channels, and the name and place of Petra 
 faded from the business and memory of the world : when it was aban- 
 doned, and what became of its Christian inhabitants is unknown ; 
 but for centuries that nomadic life which preceded its original foun- 
 dation, and has outlived its career of prosperity, has spread again, 
 and for ever, over its vacant and mournful area. 
 
 Such was its condition when the Crusaders, who mention the site 
 as Vallis Moysi — the Wady Mousa of the Arabs — penetrated the 
 fastnesses of ancient Edom, and built the fortresses of Shobek and 
 Kerak,* (the latter site then supposed to be that of Petra), which 
 gave them the command of the caravan route from Damascus 
 to Mecca. This led to fierce attacks from the Saracens, which were 
 finally successful, and thus the whole region, with all its strongholds, 
 again became subject to their power. 
 
 From that period to our own times the name and site of F^tra 
 appear to have been forgotten. The pilgrim to Mount Sinai, and 
 thence to Jerusalem, in the middle ages, deviated not from the direct 
 route across the Desert, already long and dangerous enough ; and the 
 traveller, content with advancing to the outskirts of the Promised 
 Land, beheld from afar Mount Hor, jutting out like a beacon from 
 
 * For fuller details, see Robinson, Bib. lies., vol. ii. 
 
 Q
 
 114 burckhardt's visit. 
 
 the desolate mountains of Edom, without seeking to penetrate a 
 country tenanted by the most savage and faithless of the Bedouins, 
 little supposing, too, that, at its very foot, in an almost inaccessible 
 solitude, lay hidden that ancient capital whose singular situation 
 and utter overthrow form the burden of Jewish proj)hecy. It was 
 even, perhaps, with incredulous wonder that he listened to the 
 reports of his Arab gaiides, who spoke of the numerous ruined sites 
 among which he was wont to pasture his wandering flocks — of the 
 past splendour of those fallen cities which even the rude Bedouin 
 could not behold unmoved : " Oh, how I weep," said Sectzen's Arab 
 guide to him, "when I behold the ruins of Wady Musa '." The 
 fii'st visits made by modem travellers were of a highly adven- 
 turous and romantic character. To the lamented Biu'ckhardt we 
 owe the first reliable notices of the long-lost city. Adopting the 
 name of Sheik Ibrahim, and clad in the garb of a poor Arab, he was 
 the fii'st to explore its wonders, and his involuntary surprise and 
 curiosity nearly led to the discovery of his assumed character. As 
 he tm-ned aside to examine more narrowly one of the principal 
 monuments, his giiide exclaimed, " I see now, clearly, that you are 
 an infidel, who have particular business amongst the ruins of the 
 city of your forefathers ; but, depend upon it, that we shall not sufier 
 you to take out a single para of all the treasures hidden therein, for 
 they are in our territory, and belong to us." He was compelled to 
 desist from a closer examination without effecting his pilgrimage to 
 the summit of Mount Hor, to the reputed tomb of the patriarch 
 Aaron, which had served as the pretext of his visit. " It is very 
 unfortunate," he observes, " that the idea of treasures being hidden 
 in ancient edifices is so strongly rooted in the minds of the Arabs 
 and Turks. Nor are they satisfied with watching all the stranger's 
 steps ; they believe that it is sufl&cient for a true magician to have 
 seen and observ^ed the spot where treasures are hidden, (of which he 
 is supposed to be already informed by the old books of the infidels 
 who lived on the spot,) in order to be able afterwards, at his ease, to 
 command the guardian of the treasure to set the whole before him. It 
 rvas of no avail to tell them to follow me, and see whether I searched
 
 ADVENTURE OF IRBY AND MANGLES. 115 
 
 for money. Their reply was, ' Of course, you will not dare to take 
 it out before us ; but we know that, if you are a skilful magician, 
 you will order it to follow you through the air to whatever place you 
 please.' " 
 
 Considering the hasty and furtive manner in which Burckhardt 
 was compelled to hurry tlirough the place, his account is surprisingly 
 able and accurate, and of course created great excitement. Various 
 travellers now made ineffectual attempts to penetrate to this surpris- 
 ing scene, but, for a while, without success. Messrs. Bankes, Legh, 
 Irby, and Mangles were the first to overcome the many difficulties 
 connected with such an expedition. It was natural that the Turkish 
 authorities in Palestine should have little more than a nominal au- 
 thority over regions so secluded that, on Mr. Bankes's application, 
 when at Constantinople, to have the names of Kerek and Wady 
 Musa inserted in his Firman, he was told " that they knew of no 
 such places in the Grand Seignior's dominions." After one ineffec- 
 tual attempt to penetrate them from Tiberias, by way of Szalt, and, 
 by a skilful retreat, narrowly escaping the pursuit of the treacherous 
 Arabs, these indefatigable travellers, finding the governor of Jeru- 
 salem unable to assist them, repaired to the frontier at Hebron ; but 
 still sought in vain for any Arabs who would undertake, for any con- 
 sideration, to conduct them direct to Wady Musa ; and their only 
 course was to engage guides and proceed to Kerek. The sheik of 
 this place received them at first but coldly, inquiring " if this was 
 the country of their fathers ? " but eventually engaged to conduct 
 them to Wady Musa, for a stipulated sum for himself, besides a 
 tribute to the other sheiks, through whose districts they might pass. 
 Their progress was unpropitious, and it was fortunate that the Sheik 
 of Shobek warmly espoused their cause, and threw into the trembling 
 scale the weight of his influence and the force of his character Abou 
 Raschid, this new ally, " was a middle-sized man, with very marked 
 features, having a dark complexion, very dark beard, piercing black 
 eyes, and aquiline nose. His age might be about thirty. He was 
 full of life and spirits, but a man of few words, and of plain, unaf- 
 fected manners. Ever since our arrival we had heard him spoken of
 
 116 THEIR DIFFICULTIES. 
 
 in great raptures at the camp." As soon as his resolution to conduct 
 the Franks to Wady Musa was declared, Abou Zatoun, " the father of 
 Olives/' sheik of that place, declared, " by the beard of their prophet, 
 and by the honour of their women,'' that they should never enter 
 their territory ; and, seeing them about to proceed, exclaimed, " Let the 
 doo-s go on and perish ! " he then hurried away with his adherents to 
 rouse the inhabitants and oppose their entry by force. This was a 
 critical moment. Abou Yousuf and Salem, with their people, endea- 
 voured to turn Abou Raschid from his purpose, but his resolution was 
 unshaken ; and, finding that his arguments were ineffectual, he 
 leaped into the saddle, exclaiming, " I have set them on their 
 horses ; let us see who will dare to stop Abou Raschid !" All now 
 advanced ; the men of "Wady Musa hovering on their flank, and 
 watching their movements. On the way, other retainers of Abou 
 Raschid joined them, and at sunset they reached a camp of sixty- 
 eight tents. Angry messages passed between the rival camps, and a 
 deputation arrived ; but, after a warm and unsuccessful debate, the 
 Wady Musa men, who had declared to the Franks at first that they 
 were " trusting in the protection of the chief who accompanied them, 
 or otherwise they should never have returned," (a menace which, 
 considering the sanguinary character of this tribe, and that the 
 place was pointed out where they had, the year before, treacherously 
 mui'dered a caravan of pilgrims, would, but too probably, have 
 been fulfilled,) retired to their camp. Matters now were becoming 
 serious, reinforcements were gathering ; and our travellers, alarmed 
 at the prospect of kindling a war between the tribes, wished to 
 renounce their object. But the sheik was decided ; they should even 
 bathe in the waters ; and, if fair means could not compass this, 
 he had sworn to accomplish it by force. 
 
 A consultation was held, in which the other sheiks tried to dis- 
 suade Abou Raschid from carrying the matter further. " Old Yousul 
 particularly, like Nestor in the Iliad, dwelt much upon what had 
 passed in his youth, and upon the wars in which he had engaged, 
 and found reason, when too late, to repent of He spoke with a 
 great deal of grave action, but his counsels had more effect upon the
 
 THEIR TRIUMPH. 117 
 
 rest of his audience than upon the spirited young Arab to whom they 
 were addressed." Everything now breathed war ; until a rumour 
 arose that from the influence of Hindi, an old Arab chief of veiy 
 poor and ordinary appearance, and almost blind, no further oppo- 
 sition would be offered to the travellers. 
 
 But the morrow brought other tidings. The men of Wady Musa 
 had, in the plainest terms, declared that they would oppose the Franks 
 by main force, and that they should pay with their lives for any attempt 
 to advance within their limits. Hostilities thus seemed unavoidable. 
 Some neighbouring tribes had declared for the people of Wady Musa ; 
 even old Yousuf, though still advocating prudence, seemed kindhng. 
 He, too, could bring out, he said, the men of Kerek ; and he spoke 
 of their numbers and courage. But, in the meantime, old Hindi had 
 been busy, and the enemy was probably overawed. The travellers 
 had discovered that one of the ruins was in sight, and believed 
 that they might steal down upon them in the night without giving 
 the alarm ; but while they were debating this plan, they saw a great 
 cavalcade entering their camp from the southward ; there were many 
 mounted Arabs with lances, and they observed some horsemen, of 
 a more splendid appearance than ordinary Bedouins. As the pro- 
 cession advanced, several of Abou Raschid's Arabs went out and led 
 the horses of the chiefs by the bridles into the camp ; the whole pro- 
 cession alighted at the tent of the chief, and kissed his turban : this 
 was the signal of pacification ; peace was immediately proclaimed 
 throughout the camp, and notice was given that the men bearing 
 arms, who had come from a distance, were to return to their respec- 
 tive homes. 
 
 Such was the fortunate issue of this remarkable adventure. Abou 
 Raschid continued with the party during their two days' stay in 
 Petra, and escorted them on their return as far as his camp near 
 Kerek, where they took leave of their intrepid friend and ally, who 
 sent his mace-bearer with his iron mace before them to Kerek, to 
 ensure for them the same reception as though he had been himself 
 present. He kissed them all at parting. 
 
 The accurate notes of Irby and Mangles were at first printed for
 
 118 LABORDE AND LIN ANT. 
 
 private circulation ; and it was not till ten years afterwards, in 
 1828, that Count Leon de Laborde, with M. Linant, succeeded, in 
 the face of much hostility, in passing such a space of time among the 
 ruins, as enabled them, with wonderful industry, to obtain the 
 materials for the splendid work which first introduced Petra to the 
 European public. Since that period a few others have occa- 
 sionally braved the perils of the desert route, and submitted to the 
 extortion of their Arab guides, as well as those of the savage 
 tribes who, pasturing their flocks in the neighbourhood, come down 
 to levy contributions on the defenceless traveller. Some, whose 
 object was merely to imprint on the memory a hasty, but still in- 
 effaceable, impression of the spot, have succeeded, so solitary and 
 forsaken is the place, in entering, and making good their retreat, 
 ere the plunderers could obtain intelligence and intercept them ; as 
 was the case with Stephens, whose lively account of his adventures 
 is in every one's recollection. Some of his countrymen, however, 
 were not so fortunate, but had a narrow escape from these ruffian 
 extortioners. Drs. Robinson and Smith, after gaining sufficient 
 time for a hasty survey, were beset by the identical old sheik who 
 was at the bottom of all the troubles of Irby and Mangles, and 
 were prevented from completing a more minute examination, had 
 they desired it, as well as from ascending Mount Hor, on their 
 return. The Arabs demanded no less than a thousand piastres, (ten 
 pounds,) and even talked of sending away the camels with which their 
 Jehalin guides had furnished the travellers at Hebron, to exchange 
 for their own. This, however, was an empty threat ; but when the 
 party, determined to yield to force alone, endeavoured to advance in 
 the direction of Mount Hor, " the hostile party, at a signal from 
 Abu Zeitun, instantly closed round, and swords were di'awn and 
 brandished ; which, however, among these Arabs, as we had now 
 learned, means nothing more than to make a flourish. The heads 
 of our camels were seized, and turned in the opposite direction, 
 with orders to go by the way we came. Not a step, my companion 
 cried, except by force ; and dismounting, he stood up before them, 
 and told them, we now knew them to be robbers, and were ready
 
 EOBINSON AND SMITH. 119 
 
 for them ; let them rob and kill us if they chose, but not a para 
 more of money should they get than we had offered them. They 
 replied that not for a para less than a thousand piastres should we 
 go to Moimt Hor. Our resolute Komeh next seized the halter of 
 the head camel, and tried to go on as before, but with no better 
 success. He then, in great wrath, threw down his gun, and pistol, 
 and pipe on the ground before them, (the pipe was shivered in 
 pieces,) declaring them to be thieves and robbers, and calling on 
 them to take possession of his arms, and all that they had." 
 My worthy companion, Komeh, had often alluded to this scene 
 of tumult, in which he so prominently figured, exaggerating, in 
 true oriental style, the numbers of the Bedouins, though his own 
 courage certainly stood in no need of any such additional illustra- 
 tion. It may well be supposed, that with a knowledge of the 
 difl&culties which had thus beset previous travellers, it was not with- 
 out some uneasiness that I found myself in the immediate vicinity 
 of the object of my long anticipation. I had indeed heard, that 
 recent travellers had paid a ' gufr,' or tax, of about one hundred 
 piastres ; but it seemed but too probable, that could the Sheik 
 of Wady Musa gain intelligence of my arrival in time to inter- 
 cept me, he would be tempted to take advantage of a solitary 
 stranger, and to levy some inordinate contribution. I determined, 
 therefore, if possible, to be beforehand with him ; sufl&cient daylio-ht 
 remained to pay a hasty visit to Mount Hor, and before sunrise 
 the following morning, I would steal unperceived into the forsaken 
 area of Petra itself, and ere I could be interrupted, visit all the 
 prominent objects of curiosity, after which I should be able to defy 
 any attempt at serious extortion. 
 
 This resolution had just been formed, when the camels came toil- 
 ing down the mountain side. Leaving Komeh to pitch the tent 
 and make all snug for my return, I started at once, Maganhem, our 
 new and intelligent ally, and another Arab serving as guides. We 
 began the ascent almost directly from the place where we had de- 
 termined to halt for the night, after accomplishing our task : the 
 way up on this side seemed paxticularly easy and inviting, but
 
 120 TOP OF MOUNT HOR. 
 
 became much less so as we advanced, gaps and ravines before nnseen 
 developing themselves very provokingly to people in haste ; none of 
 them, however, presented any serious obstacle ; and we struck at 
 length at a sharp angle into the pathway, formerly built rudely up 
 the mountain side for the use of pilgrims, which, though rugged, 
 was surmounted at a rapid pace, and in less than an hour we stood 
 on a small level plain, at the foot of the central mass of crags, 
 which, towering above, surmounted by the tomb, gives so peculiar a 
 character to the distant physiognomy of this mountain. Here we 
 passed a cavity, with a rude pallet, which serves as a hermitage 
 for the old sheik of the mountain, who claims the exclusive 
 privilege of being guide and priest to pious Mahommedan pil- 
 grims coming up here occasionally to pay their devotions, as they 
 do frequently in Palestine, at the reputed tombs of Old Testa- 
 ment saints and worthies ; and as very few but Mahommedan pil- 
 grims ever come, he is the guide to all : — unfortunately for him, 
 although not for ourselves, he was elsewhere. We hastened foi-ward, 
 and in a few moments, making a sharp turn, ascended through a 
 cleft in the crags, assisted by steps, towards the summit, when I 
 perceived, by a yawning orifice, through which I had nearly fallen, 
 that we were passing over some singular subterranean vaults, the 
 examination of which was postponed till our descent. Immediately 
 from hence a staircase, very deeply and carefully cut, though broken 
 away in parts, leads up to the topmost crag, which aifords little 
 more than space enough for the small tomb, or mosque, wliich stands 
 upon its narrow area. Here we caught sight of some gazelles upon 
 the rocks, at a short distance ; Maganhem, with a sign to myself 
 to imitate him, crouched down and crept along close to the surface 
 in order to obtain a better aim ; the graceful creatures stood a 
 moment half-startled, then bounded lightly from stone to stone, till 
 they disappeared among the cliffs ; the Arabs had missed fire. 
 
 Mount Ilor, as I have before observed, and as an inspection of 
 the map will show, juts out in a singular manner, like an advanced 
 post of the mountains of Edom ; and from its isolated peak, the eye 
 plunges, down the rugged ribs of the mountain itself, into a maze
 
 ^^
 
 LAND OF EBOM. 121 
 
 of fathomless defiles, wliicli advancing out for some miles from the 
 great central range, or backbone, of the country, and sinking ora- 
 dually to the broad Wady el Arabah, form the ancient territory of 
 Edom, well styled in Scripture a " nest in the rocks ;" — a natural 
 fortification, inclosing nan-ow valleys of difiicult access, all of which 
 are unseen from this airy perch, as the canals of Venice are con- 
 cealed from the view of a spectator who looks over the city from the 
 Campanile or any other elevated point. Of this wilderness of 
 craggy summits, some are sharp and jagged, without footing for a 
 gazelle ; others are buttressed and built up as if by art, in huo-e 
 square piles, rising from a narrow table-land ; while the great central 
 range from which they project, is quite dissimilar in appearance, 
 being rounded and smooth, and covered with fine pasturage, pro- 
 verbially excellent. All these peculiarities appear in the view I 
 have annexed. 
 
 These hidden valleys might be deemed at first sight entirely sterile, 
 but when we see that the soil, though scanty, is rich, and that every 
 here and there little portions of table-land are scattered about, and 
 when we find on all sides the remains of channels cut in the rocks 
 for the purposes of irrigation, we may fairly infer that at one time 
 they well repaid by their fertility the exertions and expenditure of a 
 once numerous, energetic, and ^realthy community. 
 
 This mass of mountains formed the right-hand or eastern portion 
 of the \-iew ; on the opposite or western side was the great parallel 
 plateau of the high western Desert el Tih, outstretched in desola- 
 tion to the cloudy distance, and rising gradually higher and higher to 
 the north, where it merges into the hill-ranges which defend Pales- 
 tine on its southern side. Sunk between Edom and the western 
 Desert, is the Wady el Arabah, a broad bed of sand which the 
 wind was working up into vast driving clouds— this drains the 
 high Desert and here takes an evident slope to the northward, till 
 lost in the dim white haze of the Dead Sea, faintly descried behind 
 the peaks of the right-hand mountains. The direction of El 
 Weibeh (Kadesh-Barnea, if Robinson is right) was pointed out by 
 my Arab guide. 
 
 R
 
 122 BIBLICAL ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 Standing on this lone, lofty pinnacle, it is impossible not to 
 figure to ourselves the important biblical events connected with it. 
 Edom stood secure, though trembling, in her mountain fastnesses, 
 the Promised Land was yet occupied by its original inhabitants, 
 linked by a common danger to resist the invasion qf the wanderers 
 from Egypt, and to drive them back into the inhospitable Desert ; 
 the Israelites had assembled at Kadesh, and, Avith their courage 
 quailed by the discoui-aging reports of the spies, had been doomed 
 to expiate their want of faith and to wander forty years through 
 the wilderness. Those forty years had now done their work — that 
 generation had passed away — and their descendants, children of the 
 Desert, assemble at the base of the mount, and fill the broad plain 
 with their tents : their passage through these mountain defiles is 
 refused by the Edomites, and again we see them, in idea, departing 
 southward, down the Arabah to the Eed Sea, to turn the region 
 that they might not penetrate. But a short time before, the gi'eat 
 lawgiver had buried, at Kadesh, his sister Miriam, whose triumphant 
 song had commemorated their first great deliverance ; and now 
 Aaron, too, was called to his rest — the prophet brothers ascend the 
 lonely mount, and on its summit take the long and last farewell : 
 Aaron is buried, and the aged Moses descends alone, and desolate in 
 heart, to the tents of the mourning Israelites. So strongly marked 
 are the features of this region, and so preserved by their sublime un- 
 chancrins: barrenness, that when we behold at once the defiles of 
 Edom, the frontier hills of Palestine, the Arabah, and, far out- 
 stretched to the westward, the great sepulchral wilderness, the lapse 
 of ages is forgotten, and these touching and solemn events rise up 
 before the mind with an almost startling reality. 
 
 I now eagerly inquired for the position of Petra, Maganhem 
 pointed to a spot, exclaiming, "Wady Musa, Wady Musai" but 1 
 could see nothing, till suddenly my eye caught upon a remarkable 
 architectural fagade, hitherto overlooked, and which, isolated and 
 standins in no visible connexion with other buildinfjs, had a most 
 singular, and to one previously unacquainted with the diflferent sites, 
 a very mysterious appearance. This I saw at once to be El Deir, a
 
 VAULTS ON MOUNT HOR. 12^ 
 
 large excavation in the mountains above Petra, which Irby and 
 Mangles could not reach. Of the city itself, nothing could be 
 made out. Shobek, famous in the times of the Crusaders, as 
 a strong fortress, by some supposed to be the real Petra, and Kerek, 
 lie far to the north, among these hills ; but I was unable to make out 
 either. Maganhem now, with an expression of deep reverence, 
 pointed the way into the traditional tomb of Aaron. It is simply a 
 square plain room, in which, opposite the entrance, stands a small 
 tomb, similar to those seen in Mahommedan cemeteries, and covered 
 with a tattered pall. Being unprovided with torches, we were 
 prevented from exploring the subteiTaneous vault ; besides, the sun 
 was now nearly setting, and it was not desirable to be overtaken 
 by darkness on these heights. Reaching again, on the descent, 
 the curious substruction before alluded to, I immediately commenced 
 a hasty survey. It is a covered vault of round arches, well con- 
 structed, with, if I remember right, a well ; possibly it might 
 have supported upper apartments, now destroyed. This I could 
 not positively determine ; but it appeared to me to have been a 
 religious edifice of some nature, perhaps a cell, or a part of a 
 small convent, which might have been tenanted, in the ages of 
 Christian occupation, by a few monks, to whom probably the cut- 
 ting of the steps above and pathway may be attributed. The con- 
 structions, I afterwards found, much resembled the arched vaults 
 built out in front of the large tomb in Petra, nearly opposite the 
 theatre, which was converted into a church, and may be well 
 judged of by the annexed illustration.
 
 124? APPROACH TO PETRA. 
 
 Night was now gathering over the wilderness, and we hurried 
 down the mountain. x\t first we could not tell what had become 
 of Komeh and his train, the open space where we had left him being 
 vacant ; but the glare of a fire from out of a narrow ravine told me 
 at once, that he had wisely hidden our tent from the observation 
 of larger caravans that might be passing, and that might perhaps 
 give us trouble. A wilder nook could hardly be met with. Above 
 the tent rose a high wall of rock ; below, yawned a rugged chasm, 
 with scarcely room to pass along its brink, and Mount Hor dimly 
 reared its ancient peaks directly in front of us. We were in a high 
 region of the mountain, the ^ind was gusty and cold, and I was glad 
 to sit by the fire with the Arabs, and pore over that unforgotten 
 landmark of remote ages with all its solemn memories. 
 
 Anticipation troubles one's rest ; the cold of our bleak bivouac 
 
 did not improve it ; and thus, long before sunrise, accompanied by 
 
 Maganhem, and leaving Komeh to follow with the camels, I was 
 
 hurrying along the rocky road towards Petra. From a solitary 
 
 group of tombs, the outskirts of its vast necropolis, I obtained my 
 
 first view of the rock-bound city — a broken- down camel, one of a 
 
 passing caravan, protesting against an insupportable load, which 
 
 at the expense of his last remaining strength he had dragged up 
 
 the long ascent, was a characteristic object in the foregTound. (See 
 
 title-page.) This narrow pass was probably guarded in the palmy 
 
 days of Petra, and blocked up when an attack was expected. Hence 
 
 begins a long descent by the side of a ravine, leading to the vacant 
 
 site of the old city, of which one solitary column appears like the ghost 
 
 of its past splendour, girdled round by rocks of the most rugged 
 
 and fantastic outline, and pierced with innumerable excavations, 
 
 their colouring, as it were, run mad with a blending of all hues. No 
 
 idea can be given of the first impression of such a place, — its 
 
 strangeness and remoteness, the utter desolation, the silence, broken 
 
 only by the groans of the distressed, over-burdened camels, and the 
 
 fierce yells of their savage conductors. My plan had perfectly 
 
 succeeded, the sheik and his retainers had not appeared ; there was 
 
 nothing to mar the glorious satisfaction of wanderino; alone and unin-
 
 FUNEREAL HABITATION. 125 
 
 terrupted about this unparalleled place ; my wild cicerone, as I 
 merely named the principal objects of interest, conducted me to 
 them in silence, and I spent some hours in exploring all the lower 
 parts of the city. At length, we began to think it was time to look 
 after Komeh and the camels. From a lofty rock above the theatre, 
 we looked around the void area of the city, expecting to catch 
 sight of the tent, pitched by the stream, but it was nowhere 
 visible. I was uneasy : had anything happened ? or had the sheik 
 and his men intercepted Komeh on his way ? We set up a loud 
 shout, and Maganhem, firing his rusty matchlock, awoke the echoes 
 of the rocky cliffs ; it was responded to by another discharge and 
 loud outcries ; and the figures of the Arabs now first became 
 visible beneath one of the principal excavations, from which issued 
 a curling smoke that feelingly appealed to a famished stomach. 
 Thither we hurried, and found that it was in the magnificent 
 Corinthian tomb that Komeh had arranged matters for our tempo- 
 rary abode. On climbing its broken portal, the first object that 
 struck me, was, the uplifted chin of one of the most traculent 
 looking and hirsute of our Arabs, covered with lather, relieving 
 white from the gloom, and Komeh, armed with my razor, pla- 
 cidly endeavouring to reduce the overgTowth of his shaggy hair, 
 an operation about as promising as the shaving of a rock-o-oat. 
 The fellow, however, who had caught the trick from -witnessing my 
 own performances, seemed infinitely delighted, and looked at his 
 half-shorn visage in a bit of broken looking-glass, with as much 
 complacency as a D'Orsay. Others, improving on their old process 
 of broiling on the stones, came to borrow our cooking-pot : — in short 
 civilization is progressing, even in Petra, On a heap of stones, 
 artistically built up as a fire-place, was an Irish stew, just ready, 
 and my mattress-couch spread out upon the swept floor of the tomb, 
 and the chattels stowed away in the corners. Komeh had made all 
 snug, and rubbed his hands, and looked around him like a man who 
 had done liis duty ; and, to add to our satisfaction, the Sheik of 
 Wady-Musa, with his band of lagamuflins, had not even yet appeared. 
 But this security was not of long continuance ; for before I had
 
 ^^\ an 
 
 126 PAYMENT OF THE GUFB. 
 
 well finished a hasty repast, a suspicious-looking column of horse- 
 men was seen rapidly approaching, which, on being reconnoitred 
 closely, was pronounced to be the party we dreaded. I hurried off 
 with Maganhem in the opposite direction to El Deir ; and now, 
 having both visited Mount Hor, and seen everything in Petra, 
 I returned secure and triumphant to the tomb. Here the sheik 
 and his men, the most savage, sinister, and noisy of all the 
 Arabs we had seen, were in high clamour ; to do him justice, however, 
 he was to me exceedingly respectful, not to say humble in his 
 tone ; in fact, I had the weather-gauge of him ; his demands 
 were confined to the gufr, or tax of one hundred piastres, (<£*!,) 
 which, as he averred, all recent travellers had paid, and for which 
 sum he promised an entire freedom from all annoyance by his 
 retainers. I did not pay even this, which, after all, is an extor- 
 tion, without protesting ; but it is right to say that he fulfilled 
 his promise to the letter ; and that, during the remainder of my 
 stay, I went about with Maganhem alone, without being pestered 
 for " backshish," or otherwise intruded upon by these loathsome 
 ruffians : an immunity certainly well worth the consideration I had 
 been called upon to pay for it. 
 
 Petra, since first brought to Hght by Burckhardt, has been well 
 and often described ; and all the details of its buildings have been 
 drawn with great, and subsequently unsurpassed accuracy, by Laborde 
 and Linant ; Dr. Robinson's remark, however, is quite just, that 
 their work conveys "no good general idea of the whole." To do 
 this, if possible at all, is, in fact, no easy task. That in which Laborde 
 has failed I cannot hope to accomplish successfully; nevertheless, 
 true to my plan of pictorial description, I shall endeavour to 
 give a more general, though of course imperfect, idea of the entire 
 site, and then take the various monuments one by one in their 
 natural order of succession from a given point. 
 
 If the traveller could soar, like one of their native eagles, over the 
 inaccessible cliffs which hem in this extraordinary city, it might 
 present some such appearance as I have ventured to suppose in the 
 accompanying outline, which, of course, makes no claim to exact
 
 CR t AT CM Al 
 OF E DOM 
 
 //
 
 BIRD S-EYE VIEW. 
 
 127 
 
 accuracy, and is intended solely to assist the conception of the 
 reader by comparison with the annexed map. 
 
 In this bird's-eye view, we are supposed to be looking down into 
 the lower part of the ravine, which formed one principal approach, 
 though not, as usually supposed, the only one. We can trace its 
 course across the area of the city, till it disappears in the other side 
 of the valley^Approaching by this narrow chasm, the first object 
 that meets ftie eye, is the rock-hewn tomb or temple of El Khusne ; 
 passing in front of this, the stream flows do^m until it reaches the 
 theatre, also hewn from the mountain, then bending at the end of 
 the rocks, crosses the valley, washes the few ruins of the city still 
 standing, and is finally lost to our vieAv among the opposite cliffs. 
 The open central space was the site of the city itself ; there is a 
 little level ground along the brink of the torrent, which we may sup- 
 pose, was appropriated to the piincipal buildings, and to have been the 
 chief place of concourse. On each side of this, the ground rises irregu- 
 larly, divided by minor ravines, terminating in the north with the high 
 mountains of Dibdibah, the central chain of Edom, and on the south, 
 ascending gradually towards Mount Hor, and communicating on this 
 side with the Arabah, by the pass akeady described, on the approach 
 from which, another branch goes off towards Hebron. The entire area 
 of ground, suitable for buildings, may have been about two to three 
 miles of circumference, of course very irregular. Scattered about it 
 are very numerous remains of former buildings ; consisting, mostly, 
 of heaps of stones and substructions, but including a few more 
 important ruins, which we will take in detail. With this general 
 view of the site, we will now begin a more exact description of the 
 monuments successively, commencing at the head of the remarkable 
 'ravine already noticed. 
 
 The upper part of the approach along the course of the stream, 
 which I did not see, is bordered by tombs, some of very singular 
 character. The valley is rather open, but soon the brook descends 
 among huge blocks of stone, overgrown with wild oleanders, almost 
 blocking up the passage, into the deep raWne, which piercing through 
 the chain of rocks, forms the only entrance to the city on this side- 
 
 // 
 
 \^-
 
 128 THE RAVINE. 
 
 But a few paces beyond its entry, a ruined yet bold arch, springing 
 from rock to rock, creates astonishment that it can maintain its 
 position. The sides are adorned with niches and pilasters. This 
 arch was perhaps erected to commemorate some victory, or may have 
 served merely an ornamental pui'pose. 
 
 The sandstone formations which hem in the ravine at this arch, 
 are of no gTeat height, probably about one hundred feet ; but at every 
 step they rise higher and hi<rlier, while the broken path beneath 
 descends rapidly among fragments and wild plants, which hardly 
 leave a roadway, and when unencumbered could never have admit- 
 ted more than two or three camels abreast. It is impossible to con- 
 vey an idea of the feeling with which we penetrate further into the 
 heart of this extraordinary defile : the cliflFs become more jagged 
 and awful, nearly meeting over head, and the windings of the 
 chasm seem to close up at every turn of the almost subterranean 
 passage. Looking up from this deep abyss are seen, through occa- 
 sional openings, the higher precipices of the gorge ; their peaks, 
 ragged and fantastic, tinted with the most fanciful variety of colour- 
 ing in pink, yellow, and blue veins, and hung with wild oleander, 
 tamarisk, and climbing plants, are glittering several hundreds of feet 
 above us, in the brilliant sunlig-ht. There is one sinister turn in the 
 deepest part of the passage, which seems temptingly fitted for deeds 
 of violence and blood ; the shadoAvs fall blacker from the almost 
 closing walls of rock ; a sharp angle in the ravine seems formed 
 for enabling the treacherous assailant to fall unexpectedly upon 
 his victim ; and here it was, in fact, that, the year before the visit 
 of Irby and Mangles, a party of pilgrims from Barbary were mur- 
 dered by the Arabs of Wady Musa, men who appeared capable of 
 any atrocity likely to go unpunished ; and whom I never could look at 
 Avithout a lurking tremor. Awful as is this gorge, it is yet still 
 more romantically beautiful, the forms ol the precipices varying at 
 every turn, the wonderful contrasts of the colouring, the variety of 
 the overhanging foliage of the wild fig, the crimson-floAvered oleander, 
 and the trailing bright-green plants, Avith the play of light and shade 
 among the rocks, form such a striking succession of pictures, that the
 
 locloiig dcjvn tie Ravinfe.
 
 (
 
 FIRST VIEW OF THE KHUSNE. 129 
 
 wanderer lingers delighted among the thousand charms which nature 
 unfolds in this singular recess, and almost forgets, as he forces his 
 difficult way among fallen rocks and tangled shrubs and flowers, that 
 he is traversing the principal highway into what was heretofore one 
 of the richest commercial cities in the East. 
 
 On close examination, however, this passage, though now half 
 choked up, shows vestiges of the care with which it was kept open 
 in the prosperous times of Petra. The traces of the square stones 
 with which it was once paved are met with, as well as of the 
 channel by which the water of the brook was carried down into the 
 city, instead of being suffered to pour in full volume, as at present, 
 down the bed of the ravine ; this channel, crossing the passage from 
 left to right, is continued by earthen pipes bedded by mortar in a 
 groove made in the rocks. Robinson suggests that the great body 
 of the water was, perhaps, anciently carried off in some different 
 way. Only a portion, not sufficient to injure the pavement, could, 
 at any rate, have taken its course down the natural channel into 
 the city below. There occur, besides, niches and tablets here and 
 there. 
 
 This half-subterraneous, echoing passage, continues for more than 
 a mile, turning and winding, and everywhere impressed with the 
 same sombre, yet fascinating character. At length, a rosy-coloured 
 rock appears between the grey perpendicular walls of the chasm ; 
 pediments and statues gradually are seen, until, on reaching abruptly 
 the termination of the approach, the entire facade of the principal 
 edifice in Petra bursts upon the view ; the effect of which, as thus 
 beheld, with the light full upon it, is utterly indescribable. The 
 architects of Petra must, indeed, have had a wonderful eye for the 
 picturesque ; and with consummate skill have they here availed 
 themselves of the level face of a vast cliff, in a small opening, oppo- 
 site the mouth of their chief approach, to dazzle the stranger, as he 
 emerged from the long shady chasm, with the most beautiful of their 
 rock-hewn unique monuments — most fortunate, too, were they in its 
 material, for the exquisite rosy tint of the stone, contrasting with the 
 gloomy masses around, adds to the beauty of the architecture ;
 
 130 THE KHUSNE. 
 
 and, from the superincumbent cliff and its sheltered situation, the 
 most delicate details of the carving have escaped the weather, and are 
 fresh as from yesterday's chisel, -while those in more exposed places 
 in the city are often quite defaced and destroyed. The spot has 
 all the strange, wild, magical beauty of those fantastic combinations 
 which, in dreams, seem to transcend ordinary reality ; albeit, unlike 
 those, it fades not from waking memory, but actually haunts the mind 
 long after, and can no more be forgotten than it can be adequately 
 described. Familiar as I previously was with it in idea, from 
 so many views and descriptions, I reckoned as nothing the fatigue 
 and privation which enabled me at length to behold it for myself 
 
 The annexed view will show that the monument stands on a 
 rising ground, in a small opening, at the meeting of the ravine 
 of approach, already described, with another coming down to join it. 
 This romantic little area is cut off from the city, and everywhere 
 surrounded by impassable rocks, except where the ravine penetrates 
 it to descend lower down ; the stream crosses it, and is overhung 
 with a wild growth of oleander bushes, covered, at the time of 
 our visit, by thousands of crimson flowers. With respect to the 
 building itself, the illustration will save the trouble of a lengthened 
 description. The style appears to have been an original combina- 
 tion of the later Roman architecture ; and though there may be 
 a question as to its purity, there can be none as to its perfect 
 adaptation to local peculiarities. It is by far the most elegant in 
 proportion, as well as exquisite in finish, of all the monuments in 
 Petra, and entirely hewn from the rock, with the exception of the 
 two central pillars of the portico which were built up ; one of which, 
 as it will be seen, has fallen in, though the effect is not impaired. 
 The capitals and other decorative portions are not of the Corin- 
 thian, nor indeed of any other order, but original ; and the richness 
 of their design, and the exquisite delicacy of their execution, leave 
 nothing for the eye to desire. The figures on the upper part of the 
 structure are much injured : that on the left-hand appears to be a 
 statue of Victory ; the other an armed figure, in a warlike attitude ; 
 while that on the lower panel, to the right of the main portico, is to

 
 THE THEATRE. 131 
 
 all appearance seated on a camel. The name given by the Arabs 
 to the excavation " El-Khusne/' signifies " the treasure," which is 
 supposed by them to be contained in the large vase at the top, sur- 
 mounting the central lantern. They often vainly fire at it, hoping 
 to bring down its imaginary contents, and they fancy that the 
 visits of Frank travellers are for the purpose of conjuring away to 
 their own homes, by some serial magic, what they are themselves 
 unable to lay hold of The portico, about thirty-five feet high, is deep 
 and imposing, and richly decorated ; it gives access by the central 
 door into a large square chamber, its walls and ceiling perfectly 
 plain, and unomamented, behind which is another smaller one. 
 Two lateral doorways in the portico also open into similar apart- 
 ments ; the principal chamber is now inscribed with a pretty 
 considerable number of names, principally from England and 
 America. 
 
 The ravine, which seems as if it just opened to afford a suit- 
 able situation for this beautiful monument, now closes again for a 
 while, and the cliffs are of less height ; it then gradually opens a 
 little, the rocks on either side, still towering and romantic, and still 
 most beautiful in form and colouring, are hewn into numerous 
 sepulchres, some of considerable size, and decorated with pilasters, 
 rising irregularly one above another, as they follow the sinuous 
 course of the rocks, half overgrown with wild vegetation. Among 
 these tombs is the one with the Greek inscription, mentioned by 
 Laborde. Still widening, and opening gradually, the rocky valley, 
 making a bend to the left, suddenly displays another of the more 
 striking monuments of Petra — the Theatre. Of this, also, and the 
 surrounding scenery, the drawing will convey a better idea than any 
 verbal description : the whole is carved out of the side of the 
 valley : there are thirty-three ranges of seats, which are in a very 
 tolerable state of preservation : there are also several niches, looking 
 like boxes, in the wall above, as will appear from the drawing ; 
 The scena built up below has fallen in, and opened a view of 
 the wild brook, murmuring through tangled tufts of oleanders at 
 its foot, and passing out below to traverse the city. The Thea-
 
 132 GENERAL VIEW. 
 
 tre, facing the north-east, would have been in shadow towards 
 evening, when the rich rays of the decHning sun lighted up the 
 immense mountainous- barrier opposite, and its countless tombs of 
 every size and variety : singular contrast ! I need not enlarge upon 
 the peculiar character of these monuments, as in the drawing I 
 have endeavoured to give it accurately ; some are chaste and simple 
 in style, while others are more fantastic in ornament, and they are 
 no doubt of different dates. Nor is it only in front of the theatre 
 that the tombs appear, for it may be said to be literally surrounded 
 on all sides by them ; even from its topmost benches arise alleys and 
 staircases hewn in the rock, by which access is given to the preci- 
 pices above, all hollowed into sepulchral chambers ; from these again 
 other flights of steps, broken and difficult to follow or trace, lead 
 higher and higher into remote rocky nooks and corners hidden from 
 beneath, but still carved into sepulchres, if indeed they can all be so 
 regarded. 
 
 Following one of these stairs, and ascending with some difficulty, 
 to a considerable height above the theatre, I reached a crag, command- 
 ing a magnificent view of the site of the city and its girdle of rocks, 
 which, I am inclined to think, cannot so well be seen from any other 
 point. In this view some of the seats of the theatre appear below, 
 on the right hand, as also the singular manner in which the rock 
 from which it is hewn was cut into alleys of excavated chambers 
 communicating with it. Still lower, the brook winds round the rocky 
 point, taking a direction to the left across Wady Musa itself, till it 
 disappears in a cleft among the piles of rock on the opposite side. 
 The site of the city itself was along this brook ; and the principal 
 remaining edifices, viz., the Arch of Triumph and Kasr Pharoon, ap- 
 pear on the left-hand, near its point of disappearance. The m-cgular 
 ground risino; north and south was also, as is evident, both from the 
 site and the scattered heaps of stones and foundations, (many of 
 which appear in the drawings,) covered, wherever practicable, with the 
 buildings of the ancient city. The immense mass of the rock, hem- 
 ming in this area on the right, or north side, rises abrupt, rugged, and 
 wild, built up, as it were, in vast iiTegular buttresses, the bases of
 
 ■'■^ 
 
 
 l:*;?r?'^
 
 INTERIOR OF THE CITY, 133 
 
 which are hewn into a variety of sepulchres. The left is pierced by 
 different ravines ; by one of which ascent is made to El Deir, (not 
 visible) and this range, like the opposite, is hewn into countless 
 sepulchres, a region of death looking down upon what was once a 
 vast and crowded hive of noisy life far below. So that on all sides, 
 if we are right in supposing that all these excavations are, as 
 they appear to be, sepulchres, the inhabitants of this unparalleled 
 city beheld the habitations of their dead rising round like a curtain : 
 in the Forum — in the streets — from the roof of the private dwelling 
 — in the theatre — in highways and byways — up to the topmost 
 crags of their rocky rampart — there were still sepulchres — nothing 
 but sepulchres — even for miles out of the city ! — the habitations of 
 the dead must have outnumbered those of the living, even as they 
 excelled them in costliness and beauty ! Yet doubts may well 
 be entertained whether some of these rock-excavations were not 
 really the dwellings of the inhabitants. The mountain of Dib- 
 diba, part of the central chain of Edom, towards which there is an 
 ascent among the left-hand range of rocks, is seen closing up the 
 view in the background, and in this direction is the monument with 
 Sinaitic characters, mentioned by Irby and Mangles, which I did 
 not see, but which, if deciphered, may possibly throw light on many 
 interesting questions connected with the former inhabitants of 
 Idumea. 
 
 I lingered long in the shade of the rock commanding this noble 
 view — my Arab guide, laying his gun on the rocks, had fallen into 
 a deep sleep, and not a sound was heard in the melancholy area of 
 the outspread city of tombs. At the rainy season alone a few of the 
 wildest class of the Bedouins come down to profit by the brief verdure, 
 soon leaving the place to the silence and obscurity that has hung 
 over it for ages : a caravan from Gaza to Maan occasionally halts, 
 and then passes ; or a stray traveller or two, with his noisy cortege, 
 wakes up the echoes of its rocks, for a brief day or so ; but there 
 is not a single dweller in either tent or tomb within the whole extent 
 of the ancient capital of Edom — it is indeed utterly desolate ! 
 
 I awoke Maganhem, and, descending more obliquely, came out
 
 1S4 PRINCIPAL TOMBS. 
 
 belo\v the theatre, where the rocks from which it is hewn drop into 
 the wady, and crossing the brook began a steep ascent to the right, 
 towards what is called by Laborde the Corinthian Tomb, in which 
 Komeh had established his cooking-place, as before stated. From 
 hence is a very picturesque view of the principal tombs on the right- 
 hand of the city, appearing in the previous view, and which I here 
 oive in e:reater detail, lookino; towards the theatre and ravine. 
 
 The two prominent tombs, if such they really are, may be consi- 
 dered as by far the most striking of those facing the area of the city 
 itself. Their situation is very noble, commanding a fine view down 
 upon the stream and principal buildings of the ancient city, from 
 which they were equally conspicuous. The mass of crags out of 
 which they are hewn is also most picturesque, rising in numerous 
 jagged points and clefts ; but the water filtering through them has 
 much injured the architectural ornament, and nature is already be- 
 ginning to assert her dominion, and to obliterate large portions by a 
 wild growth of shrubs ; besides which this open high bleak situation 
 is more exposed to the action of the winds and rains. Neither of 
 these monuments, costly and splendid as they must have been, can 
 be compared with the Khusne for chasteness of design ; but the very 
 irregularity and strangeness of the architectural combinations have 
 something that better harmonizes with the romantic situation and 
 singular forms of the sm-rouuding rocks than a more pure and 
 regular design might, perhaps, have possessed. And here I should 
 not omit to notice what every traveller has been struck with, and 
 what, in fact, particularly in this range of tombs and on this side of 
 the city, forms one of the most striking peculiarities of Petra — I 
 mean the colouring of its rocks, which is wild, fantastic, and unique, 
 as, indeed, is everything else about the place. The general tinting 
 of the sandstone mountains environing the city is very fine ; the 
 broad rich red and grey tones such as the artist revels in ; but, in 
 addition, the surface of the rocks is veined after the manner of 
 watered silk, with a most indescribable and startling variety of hues 
 — white, saffron, orange, vermillion, pink, crimson, and violet, in 
 endless shades and tints, in some places forming combinations really
 
 :1
 
 KASR PIIAROON. 135 
 
 beautiful ; in others, grotesquely strange, like sections of meat or of 
 bra^NTi, but so \N-ildly tliro^vn about the irregular surface of the crags, 
 and so capriciously drawn in minute veins and stripes across the 
 facades of the tombs, as infinitely to add to the marvellous and 
 romantic singularity of this wonderful region. 
 
 Having thus surveyed the ravine of approach, the Khusne, Theatre, 
 and the sides of the enclosing rocks, I now directed my steps towards 
 the opposite range of cliffs, by descending to the bed of the stream 
 which traverses the area of the ancient city, passing on the way 
 foundations and heaps of stones everywhere scattered about, -Rhich 
 indicate that each part of this area was built upon up to the very 
 base of the cliffs. The only level space in the city, as before re- 
 marked, was along the border of the brook ; and, being precious, was 
 defended against its abrasion by a strong stone embankment. Part 
 was covered over, and one or more bridges were thrown across it, as 
 also over another small ravine, which descends into it ; a paved 
 way, of which portions exist, ran parallel with the stream, and was 
 bordered by public buildings. The broken columns of a prostrate 
 temple lay scattered on the rising ground a little above ; but the 
 only remains now standing are grouped by the side of the river. 
 Part of an arch, in a late and florid style of Roman architecture, is 
 nearest at hand ; and, at some distance beyond, is a more considerable 
 structure, of the same date, the precise character of which it is 
 difficult to determine, though it may be conjectured to have been 
 either a palace, or some important public building, rather than a 
 temple. This the Arabs have named Kasr Pharoon, or the palace of 
 Pharaoh. These ruins are very unimportant, except as being the 
 only fragments of the city now standing, and which, by their cha- 
 racter and position, enable us to form an idea of the principal 
 quarter, and its style of decoration. 
 
 Still higher, on the left-hand of the view, is the isolated crag 
 which Laborde supposes to have been the Acropolis of the ancient 
 city. I could not see any masonry on this rock, but it has been 
 distinguished by others. 
 
 Having examined the principal objects of interest in the area of
 
 136 STAIRCASE TO EL DEIR. 
 
 the city and its surrounding rocks, 1 now, guided by Maganlieia, 
 directed my steps from the "Kasr Phar'on '' to the mouth of the 
 ravine leading up to " El Deir," which, as I have before remarked, 
 and as the bird's-eye view will explain, is situated among the top- 
 most crags of the mountain. So intricate is the route that, without 
 the assistance of a map and guide, it would be almost impossible to 
 find it ; the earlier visitors to Petra, indeed, could not reach it ; and yet 
 there can be no doubt that it was one of the most frequented locali- 
 ties of the city. No one but an actual spectator can well imagine the 
 singular romantic wildness of these narrow ravines, branching out 
 from the open space among the piles of rocks which hem them 
 in, and still more inconceivable is the ingenious manner in which 
 staircases arc cut to give access to the countless tombs or dwellings, 
 sometimes ranged in rows, often secluded singly in rocky niches, 
 and half overgrown with luxuriant vegetation. Of these flights 
 of steps, that which conducts to El Deir is, certainly, one of the 
 most remarkable works in the place ; and nothing can well surpass 
 the picturesque beauty of the ascent it afibrds to the upper region 
 of the mountain — the ravine, all but closing in many places, would 
 have been impracticable without its assistance : it follows its every 
 sinuosity ; at one moment we are hidden among romantic precipices, 
 darkened with large yew trees, starting from the fissures ; then, 
 through openings in the cliffs, obtain peeps of the area of the city 
 below, and its girdle of tombs. The way becomes more and more 
 difficult, and passes along the edge of yawning chasms, the depths 
 of which cannot be seen from above, while the intricate wilder- 
 ness of rocky peaks, rising on every hand, aff'ords a sublime spec- 
 tacle. The carved way is of unusual dimensions, generally about 
 six feet wide, sometimes cut on an inclined plane, and elsewhere 
 fashioned into steps : it is now much injured by the action of the 
 torrents, which occasionally pour down these ravines in a succession 
 of waterfalls. Laborde estimates the length of this staircase at more 
 than fifteen hundred feet, and I found it took me, at a moderate 
 pace, above half-an-hour to ascend it. At its summit is a narrow 
 plateau, partly artificial, at the head of two or more ravines, running
 
 TOPMOST POINT OF THE CITY. 137 
 
 steeply up to it from below, only one of which — that by which we 
 approached — appears to offer a practicable ascent ; this little plateau 
 is almost hemmed in by rocks, from one of which, "El Deir," the con- 
 vent, as it is called, has been hollowed out with immense labour. It is 
 a gigantic monument, producing from its vastness and the wildnoss of 
 its situation, an impression almost of awe ; but it is very defective 
 in its style, for it is ponderous without grandeur, and elaborate 
 without elegance. The interior resembles, in its simplicity, the 
 other monuments already noticed, consisting merely of one large 
 chamber, perfectly plain, with a niche at the extremity. 
 
 Immediately opposite to this colossal monolithic excavation, and 
 on the other side of the level area, arises another crag, which was 
 also wrought out into buildings, but in a different manner. The 
 lowest part is excavated into tombs, or rather chambers ; and 
 a staircase led up to a level space above. Here are the bases 
 of columns, apparently forming a temple or arcade ; on one side 
 of this, is another excavated chamber, with a niche, in a highly 
 decorated style, probably the sanctuary. Above this rises the top- 
 most summit of the crag, which seems to have been occupied by 
 other edifices, commanding a wildly magnificent view over the 
 sea of mountain peaks, across the Arabah to the frontiers of 
 Palestine ; and it is, indeed, most exciting, thus to stand on the 
 highest peak of this city in the rocks, this lonely height, fit only, 
 it should seem, for the abode of the eagle and gazelle, with its extra- 
 ordinary monuments extending down to the deep chasm below, and 
 overlooking Mount Hor, and a wilderness of other savage fast- 
 nesses, far beyond the frontier of ancient Edom, which they 
 now everywhere surround, and once defended. There can be little 
 doubt, that in the palmy days of the Idumean capital, this was 
 a very important spot ; the huge excavated monument on one 
 side, the terraced crag on the other, with its ranges of buildings, 
 its noble look-out, and the great staircase which led up to it, 
 all point it out as a much frequented site : the structures around 
 had probably some connexion with the religious ceremonies of the 
 Edomites ; and the imagination may picture the entire population 
 
 T
 
 188 NOCTURNAL ARRANGEMENTS. 
 
 pouring up and down the long winding ascent to this singular crest 
 of their romantic abode. But upon the nature of those ceremonies, 
 or the manners and customs of the worshippers, although, no doubt, 
 peculiar as the spot they inhabited, no light has yet been thrown ; 
 even the notices collected by scholars, relating to the different races 
 who have successively peopled it, are scanty and confused ; 
 perhaps no place once so wealthy and important, has left so few re- 
 cords of the past, either on the page of history, or in monumental 
 inscriptions, though perhaps the opinion of Robinson may ulti- 
 mately prove correct, that "the scholar who should go thither, 
 learned in the lore of Grecian and Egyptian arts and architecture, 
 would be able still to reap a rich harvest of new facts illustrative 
 of the taste, the antiquities, and the general history of this remark- 
 able people." 
 
 The close of one of the most exciting days of my life was now 
 hastening on : I descended from El-Deir, and reached the area of 
 the city, as the evening sun Avas burnishing with a golden glow 
 the entire range of cliffs and tombs, and directed my steps towards 
 that in which I was to find a home for the night. It was indeed a 
 very comfortable abode, the funeral chamber was large enough for 
 the reception of a goodly company, and had evidently been used by 
 former travellers ; the roof was blackened with smoke, and we had 
 apprehensions of vermin, from the dirt which each former occupant 
 had helped to accumulate, but happily these fears proved un- 
 founded. Komeh built up an excellent kitchen, near the ruinous 
 door, and the adjacent splendid sepulchre, hewn for no less than 
 royalty, served as a slaughter-house, in which a lamb, purchased 
 from the Wady Musa Arabs, received its quietus from the rude 
 yataghan of one of the Bedouins. Such festive preparations in 
 these chambers of death might well seem a mockery of human 
 pride. Little could the merchant prince who hollowed out for 
 himself this costly mausoleum anticipate how, after that commerce 
 which had so enriched him should have utterly passed away, a 
 stranger from a far greater emporium, a wanderer from the capital 
 of a land perhaps wholly unknown to him, or only vaguely heard of
 
 NIGHT SCENE. 
 
 139 
 
 as beyond the bounds of the whole earth, should thus appropriate to 
 the commonest purposes of every-day life the chamber designed to 
 preserve inviolate to the end of time his last mouldering remains ! 
 So it was, however ; and the satisfaction of having ftdly attained an 
 object long desired, with all appliances and means to restore the 
 fatigue of sight-seeing and clambering, made this evening among 
 the desolations of Petra pass away with a sort of wild gaiety. It 
 was a strange scene that presented itself from the mouth of that old 
 tomb. — the Arabs, now joined by the men of Wady IMusa with 
 their sheik, formed a circle around a huge fire which they had kindled, 
 
 iL 
 
 N^^'iV 
 
 1^1 J M 
 
 
 for the night-air is chill in this high and bracing region ; and never 
 did ruddy flame illuminate a wilder-looking band ; a collection of 
 cut-throat visages apparently more alarming than these, although, 
 happily, they might now be safely admu-ed as picturesque, without 
 being dreaded as formidable. The fire-light shot upward over the 
 face of the vast ruinous mausoleum, casting over it an effect 
 of melancholy grandeur, and the red hues died away on all sides
 
 140 DIFFERENCES IN THE MONUMENTS. 
 
 among the crags ; — below lay the site of the city, with its vast bul- 
 wark of rocks, still as death, and dimly reUcving from the sky, which 
 glittered with innumerable stars, gloriously bright in the purity of 
 the keen mountain air. Another fire was kindled inside the tomb, 
 and kept up till a late hour, and I fell asleep in its grateful warmth, 
 wondering, in a half-dozy, half-dreamy state, at the romantic 
 strangeness of this funereal dormitory. 
 
 The following day I did little but revisit the prominent points 
 more at leisure, and ascend a few of the rocky staircases among the 
 chffs, which everywhere display the same laborious and almost 
 endless excavations, together with channels for water, reservoirs, and 
 small level plots formerly cultivated ; indeed there is probably not a 
 single traveller who diverges at all from the usual beat, but may 
 make fresh discoveries of this natui*e, and possibly very important 
 ones. The larger monuments, such as the " Khiisne'' and the 
 " Deir," are presumed to have been temples ; but this is, after all, a 
 conjecture, as their interior differs little from that of the smaller 
 excavations ; besides which, it is obvious that temples of the or- 
 dinary character existed in the city, their prostrate columns being 
 visible in different places. Might they not have been buildings for 
 public purposes ? Another interesting question regards the com- 
 parative antiquity of the monuments ; and whether there is any 
 difference of style by which to discriminate the earUer monuments 
 — those of the Edomites — from the later and more splendid ones of 
 the Nabathteans, and those which bear evident marks of their Roman 
 origin, or, at least, of Roman taste in their architecture. All that 
 can be said, without a very exact classification of the different styles, 
 is that the more rude and simple are the most ancient, and that 
 the decorations of later monuments were copied from the prevaihng 
 architecture of the time in other countries, with which the in- 
 habitants had intercourse ; thus there are some which are more 
 chaste and Grecian in character, some with a half Egyptian outline, 
 others in a degraded Roman taste, which tells of the decline of art ; 
 but so far as I could observe, there is no characteristic difference in
 
 LAST VIEW OF PETRA. 14] 
 
 their arrangement, — all seemed formed upon the same type, that 
 adopted probably by the earliest settled inhabitants of the place, and 
 merely improved upon by their more wealthy and civilized suc- 
 cessors. 
 
 On the third morning I prepared to leave Petra. The sheik 
 and his retainers, after the receipt of the gufr, and a long and noisy 
 contest among; themselves about its distribution, had taken them- 
 selves off, and the place had relapsed into its usual vacant, mourn- 
 ful, oppressive stillness, in which even the sound of one's own feet, 
 echoing among the solitary rocks, is startling. "While Komeh was 
 busy in evacuating the great tomb, and packing our chattels for 
 the road, I returned to take a last view of the Khiisn^, bathed in 
 the rosy light of morning ; so beautiful is it at that time, that the 
 impression that I should never see it again was even painful : 
 I tore myself away reluctantly, and reached the brook, just as the 
 file of camels came slowly down the rugged slope from our funereal 
 habitation, and mounting my dromedary, began the long ascent 
 towards Mount Hor. Passing the lonely column, which is the only 
 one now left standing of all the ruined temples of Petra, I reached 
 at length the highest group of tombs, and paused there awhile to 
 cast one parting glance over the area of the desolate city, which, 
 thus beheld for the last time, leaves on the mind, as a previous 
 tourist has finely observed, " an ineffaceable impression of mingled 
 wonder and melancholy." * 
 
 Unlike Jerusalem, whose many revolutions fill the page of history 
 with their burden of glory and of guilt, and whose final destiny is 
 yet a subject of mysterious interest, with Petra are connected neither 
 great events nor deathless names ; her associations, like those of 
 Tyre and Palmyra, are principally commercial, and like them too, 
 never ag-ain is she destined to arise from ruin. But were the Book 
 of Job, as some contend, a production of Edomite origin, depicting 
 the civilization of that land, at a period when Jerusalem was not yet 
 founded, what a halo would not this cast over desolate Idumea and 
 
 • Olin.
 
 142 DESOLATION OF EDOM. 
 
 her perished capital, a monument of her past genius and greatness, 
 nobler than the proudest of her rock-hewn temples, and lasting as the 
 eternal hills themselves ! And whatever may be the conflicting opin- 
 ions of the commentators, assigning the poem, as they do, to diflerent 
 authors and periods, from Moses to Isaiah, the best critics, have 
 at least admitted that there is about some portions of it, a breadth 
 and simplicity of style, which breathes the very air of the infancy of 
 the world, ^^■hich seems like the unstudied and majestic utterance 
 of the first inspired fathers of mankind. If we are thus to regard 
 it, its incidental notices of the arts, wealth, and refinement of the 
 people among whom it was composed, point to a state of civiliza- 
 tion almost equalling at the same period that of the Egyptians 
 themselves — ^in regard to their ideas of the nature and attributes of 
 the Almighty, indeed far higher ; and if this supposition be rejected, 
 the fertility and populousness of Edom at the time when the 
 Israelites sought to pass through its defiles are apparent from the 
 very terms of their request : " Let us pass, I pray thee, through thy 
 country : we will not pass through the fields, or through the tine- 
 yards, neither will we drink of the water of the wells : we will go 
 by the kim's highway. And Edom came out against him, with 
 much people, and with a strong hand." 
 
 How fallen is Edom now ! Could the Jewish seers, who, animated 
 by national hatred, and the sense of ^vrong, poured out the burden of 
 denunciation upon Edom, awake and behold her utter ruin, they might 
 almost weep at the fulfilment of their prophecies : " Thy terribleness 
 hath deceived thee, and the pride of thine heart. thou that dwellest 
 in the clifts of the rock, that boldest the height of the hill : though 
 thou shouldest make thy nest as high as the eagle, I will bring thee 
 doAvn from thence, saith the Lord. Edom shall be a desolation : every 
 one that goeth by shall be astonished, and shall hiss at the plagues 
 thereof No man shall abide there, neither shall a son of man 
 dwell in it." 
 
 The general strain of these and other prophecies, too strikingly 
 accords with the total desolation of Edom ; but a minuter applica- 
 tion of particular passages in a well-kno\Mi work on the subject, is
 
 PROPHECIES 1 -io 
 
 certainly not borne out by facts. The passage, " None shall pass 
 through it fur ever," alluded, doubtless, to the total breaking up of 
 the great commercial routes, as well as its general abandonment and 
 ruin, and not, as is fancifully supposed, in the work in question, 
 to the utter exclusion even of a single passenger or traveller ; inas- 
 much as caravans of Arabs are, and probably ever have been, in the 
 habit of going to and fro in different directions ; and numerous tra- 
 vellers also have of late years passed unharmed through the length 
 and breadth of the land. 
 
 So near Jerusalem, it being a journey of but about five days from 
 Petra, I was strongly tempted to return, or to have taken the route 
 to Gaza, if possible, by the spot supposed by Mr. Ro;\lands to have 
 been the veritable Kadesh-Barnea, and thence to have regained 
 Egj^pt ; but these deviations from my original plan Avould have 
 involved me in much eventual difiiculty, and I was reluctantly 
 compelled to turn my face towards Akaba. Everywhere along the 
 road, we perceived traces of former edifices connected with Petra, 
 even to the very base of the mountain-pass by which we descended 
 into the desert plain ; where, after a long and very toilsome day's 
 journey, we at length encamped at sunset, with the stem ridges of 
 Mount Seir, rising like a dark wall around our tent. 
 
 On my way to Petra I had been so much absorbed in the anti- 
 cipation of its wonders, as to pay but little attention to the forma- 
 tion of Wady el Arabah, with a view to determine the point in its 
 bed at which the waters di\dde ; some, as before said, to flow south- 
 ward into the Gulf of Akaba, and others northward into the 
 Dead Sea. This, in fact, is a question of little importance to any 
 but the geographer, and would prove to the general reader 
 especially dry ; yet on the spot it was not without some degree of 
 interest. I shall, however, be very brief in my remarks on the 
 subject. On reaching the mouth of Wady A'bchebe, through 
 which descends the road from Petra, we came upon a broad valley 
 or plain, cut up by several torrents pouring down from the moun- 
 tains of Edom, aU of which, as we subsequently ascertained, took 
 a northerly direction, falling ultimately into the Dead Sea. This
 
 144 WATER-SHED OF THE ARABAH. 
 
 direction of the streams continues till we reach the higli gravelly 
 bed formed by one of them coming out of a valley in the eastern 
 mountains, called by Laborde, Wady Houer, which is the " point 
 culminant" on the eastern side of the Arabah, and hence the waters 
 decline both north and south. It is well known that the uneven 
 bed of the Arabah is much higher on the east than on the west. 
 But what gives to the whole region its peculiarity, is an irregular 
 range of sand-hills, which, running at this point up to the eastern 
 mountains, takes thence a sloping direction south-west, towards the 
 mouth of Wady Tulh, on the opposite, or western side of the 
 Arabah, (see ]\Iap,) thus dividing its bed into two distinct slopes, 
 which afford a passage for the different watercourses that respec- 
 tively pour down upon them from the mountains above. Thus all 
 the waters from the eastern mountains south of Wady Houer, the 
 point culminant on this side, flow southward into the Gulf of Aka- 
 bah, being forced to this direction by the range of hills before 
 spoken of, while the point of division on the opposite or western 
 side is at or near Wady Tulh, at their termination, some distance 
 further south. From this wady we could clearly perceive that the 
 Arabah sloped both north and south — southward towards the 
 Gulf of Akaba, draining Jebel Beyaneh ; and northwards towards 
 the Dead Sea, draining the high western Desert. This double 
 water -shed is, in fact, the great peculiarity of the district. On my 
 way down I paid as much attention to this point as could be 
 given without making an actual survey of the eastern side of the 
 Arabah ; and my own observations were confirmed by the Ala^vin 
 Arabs who were with me, and whom I questioned as I could upon 
 the subject. I did not indeed cross over to the western side of the 
 valley, but have little or no doubt as to the correctness of M. Bertou's 
 account of this matter. In saying this, I am aware that its ac- 
 curacy has been impugned by a distinguished and learned traveller, 
 whose general correctness of observation is unquestionable, on his 
 own route of travel ; but as he did not personally examine the dis- 
 trict in question, and his objections to M. Bertou's statements, the 
 tenor of which he has obviously misunderstood, rest mainly upon
 
 SLOPE OF WADY GHURUNDEL. 145 
 
 theoretical views, I trust I am but performing an act of justice 
 to M. B., in thus attesting the truth of his observations on this 
 particular point. It is, however, much to be desired, as observed by 
 Sir G. Wilkinson, that an accurate trigonometrical survey of the 
 peninsula should be executed. 
 
 We encamped this evening at the mouth of Wady Ghurandel. 
 Burckhardt and Laborde give the direction of this valley through 
 the eastern mountains as north-north-west, which has very naturally 
 led others to suppose that its waters, on issuing into the Arabah, 
 continue on the same line towards the Dead Sea ; but this, as I 
 have before said, is prevented by the dividing range of hills before 
 alluded to, and the torrent accordingly bends round, and its waters, 
 taking the general slope of the Arabah southward, fall into the Gulf 
 of Akaba, so at least it appeared to me, and so the Arabs repeatedly 
 affirmed. 
 
 The ruins apparently of a small town, stand on the top of a 
 cliff at the southern entrance of Wady Ghurundel ; and at a short 
 distance above is a little oasis of grass and reeds, with a solitary 
 palm-tree, picturesquely overhanging it, and a few small pools of 
 water. 
 
 Next day was one of disasters. Our progress down the Arabah 
 was very toilsome ; Komeh and myself got astray among vast 
 heaps of loose drifting sand : towards evening we reached the edge 
 of the Marsh El Ghudyan — the clouds began to gather over the 
 eastern mountains, and to threaten a storm — welcome indeed to the 
 Bedouin shepherd, as bringing in its train the long-desired pastur- 
 age for his flocks ; but not altogether so agreeable to the traveller, 
 who carries his house, clothes, and bedding on a camel's back, ex- 
 posed to be drenched through and through, as well as himself, a 
 prospect full of aguish and rheumatic apprehensions. Here our 
 pieces of oil-cloth proved highly serviceable ; the tents and 
 mattress were hastily covered over ; but, alas ! there were no cords 
 to keep the covering steady ; and, descending myself, I planted my 
 Arab guide on the top, with directions to keep his legs astride, and 
 hold down the corners as well as he could, as a little rain, I was well 
 
 u
 
 146 A RUNAWAY CAMEL. 
 
 assured, would do no harm to his dirty skin ; meanwhile I covered 
 myself with a cloak, and pushed on. The storm now came down in 
 earnest, the thunder rolled and echoed tlumigh the mountains, the 
 wind was tremendous, and the rain would have soaked through all 
 our apparatus in a moment, and not left me a dry shirt, hut for the 
 oil-skin aforesaid, a happy forethought of kind Mrs. Lieder's at 
 Cah-o. We were fortunate in being on the wet edge of the marsh ; 
 for, looking back, we could see the loose shifting hills through which 
 we had been toiling lashed up by the whirlwind into dense tremen- 
 dous clouds of sand, obscuring all prospect, and which, relieved on 
 the dark stormy sky, formed a sublime spectacle : regarded with 
 not the less gratification that we had happily escaped its blinding 
 fury. The camels were struggling on slowly against the blast, 
 swaying to and fro, with averted noses, when one of them uttered a 
 portentous groan, and darted off at a hard trot at right-angles fi'om 
 the line of our march, with the two panniers containing all our 
 stores and utensils banging furiously to and fro against liis flanks. 
 There was a general yell, and then a general chase ; minor evils of 
 wind and rain were all forgotten : — were a careful housewife to see 
 her store-closet and china -cupboard suddenly taking to themselves 
 legs and dancing a sailor's hornpipe, she could not feel as we did ; 
 for in the Desert there is no redemption for broken crockery or 
 spoiled provisions. Happily the startled beast got entangled in the 
 bushes ere he had wrought such a consummation of our distress. 
 At length we halted under the lee of a thorny acacia : the wind 
 was so furious as to tear up the pegs and blow down the tent, after 
 it had with difficulty been pitched ; nor did I suppose that it either 
 could have been raised again, or if raised, kept upright for many 
 moments ; but these were the occasions which " try men's souls," and 
 brought out all Komeh's vigour and energy — he put us all into re- 
 quisition ; one was used as a dead-weight upon the windward rope, 
 while the pegs were being driven : a long cord, passed round the 
 top of the tent, was tied firm to the old acacia, and finally we de- 
 fied the blast. But even this was not all : the rain still poured down 
 in torrents ; I built up my mattress, at the suggestion of an old ori-
 
 STORM IN THE DESERT. 
 
 Ii7 
 
 ental traveller, on the camp-stools, covered it with a heavy carpet, 
 and doggedly waited till the wet should turn the tent into a 
 shower-bath. The Arabs were in miserable case, takino: the full 
 brunt of it outside, and vainly striving to kindle a fire. I made 
 them all creep into the tent, waving for once my fears of what they 
 might bring in with them ; Komeh distributed tobacco ; and in 
 this philosophic mood, and in a cloud of smoke, we awaited our 
 threatened drenching. The rain at length passed off; the night 
 turned out magnificently clear ; the stars came out in all their 
 splendour ; and a good supper by a blazing fire outside the tent 
 made us forget all previous mishaps, or remember them only to 
 heighten by contrast the present pleasure. But I pity the travel- 
 ler through the Desert in the rainy season. 
 
 Brilliant was the momins; after the storm : the Desert was cooled, 
 the far distant hills, even to their minutest peaks, stood glittering 
 out in the purified ether, and the air was elastic and inspiring, 
 enough to " create a soul under the ribs of death." We were almost 
 within sight of Akaba, and I could congratulate myself on the suc- 
 cessful accomplishment of my journey to and from Petra. About 
 noon we reached the bright blue sea and the palm-groves, and our
 
 148 RETURN TO AKABA. 
 
 old friends began to flock round us again. A small vessel from Suez 
 had arrived, during our absence, with com from Egypt, for the 
 supply of the expected pilgrims, occasioning some little bustle in this 
 sleepy place. It was a small djerm, high pitched at the stern, pro- 
 bably some such craft as the ships of Jehoshaphat, which went 
 cruising hence to Ophir, and were broken among the rocks. At the 
 present day, large vessels could not come up to Akaba, but must lay 
 out quite at a distance from the shore. 
 
 This was a bustling and a joyful day both to myself and Komeh, 
 for we were now turning our faces towards Cairo. We had seen 
 Pctra, and were glad to escape from the toils and privations of the 
 Desert ; fresh provisions were obtained, and everything organized 
 for our ten days' march home. One old fellow, that had gone with 
 us to Petra, I determined to leave behind : he was decrepit, with a bad 
 cough, and his arm in a sling from some accident, his gait was tot- 
 tering and slow, and he seemed fitter for an hospital than for a march 
 to Cairo. Moreover, I had a spite against him, for he was at the 
 bottom of every attempt to force me to halt ere a fair day's journey 
 had been performed ; and 1 thought we should have either to stop on 
 the road to nurse him, if he broke down, or leave him to die, which 
 latter alternative seemed to be regarded by the young sheik as highly 
 probable, and to be anticipated in a spirit of entire resignation, or 
 rather indifference — the vultures would soon dispose of him, and there 
 was sand enough for his shroud and grave. But it was in vain I re- 
 solved that he should not come with us : he was equally dogged in 
 the contrary resolution ; for one of the camels was his, and the risk of 
 dying in the Desert was nothing to losing his share of the piastres. 
 Akmed, my guide, and the owner of the camel I had ridden upon to 
 Petra, now came to take leave, intending to remain at Akaba. This 
 I regretted ; for, though the wildness of his look had led me to expect 
 a troublesome customer in him, I had found him quite the reverse. 
 A man of more magnificent stature and muscular proportions I never 
 beheld, nor one more dignified by the noble air and freedom of spmt 
 which the wilderness bestows ; and furtlicr acquaintance showed in 
 this splendid frame was lodged a heart tender and kind as a woman's ;
 
 PARTING WITH AKMED. 149 
 
 and when I had known him for but a few days, I would have con- 
 fided my life to him. He was, besides, romance-teller and singer 
 to the whole party, who seemed to love him. His dwelling was 
 under a roagh tent, woven of camel-hair, slung between two of the 
 palm-trees. He came on this occasion with his little daughter in his 
 arms. This child I had before remarked as the prettiest in Akaba ; 
 and I promised to send her a handkerchief from Cairo with the 
 return camels, a promise which, with Komeh's assistance, was punc- 
 tually performed ; besides which, I deemed his fidelity and good ofl&ces 
 deserving of a liberal backshish. Poor fellow ! he was overjoyed, and 
 followed me far out of the place, kissing my hand, and taking leave 
 with every appearance of emotion. 
 
 We retraced our route fi*om Akaba around the head of the gulf, 
 and then began to ascend the western range of mountains which 
 border the Wady el Arabah, in order to reach the level Desert above, 
 following the broad pilgrim route formed by a great number of 
 parallel camel-tracks. The pass is long and winding, but with no 
 scenery of the slightest interest ; and we encamped at night among 
 the rocks, about half-way up to the crest. 
 
 The latter part of the ascent we accomplished next morning : it is 
 steep and toilsome, but opens fine retrospective peeps at the gulf be- 
 low. The road is in some places cut away or carefully built up, as 
 the case requires ; and there are Arabic inscriptions recording the 
 authors of these works. The road itself was made (or, I should rather 
 say, made easy) in a.d. 868 — 884,* by Sultan Ibn Tooloon, the same 
 whose mosque in Cairo, hereafter described, contains one of the 
 earliest specimens of the pointed arch. On emerging from this long 
 and tedious ascent, the high western Desert expands in endless 
 prospect, — a vast plain of fine gravel, covered with small pebbles, 
 varied by a long perspective of camels' bones, bleached perfectly 
 white, pointing out the track of the pilgrims across its boundless 
 level, and the mirage spreading out a shifting succession of blue 
 lakes, with the tops of distant hills appearing like islands among the 
 
 * Makrizi, cited by Burckhardt. See Robinson.
 
 150 PASS OF AKABA — HIGH DESERT. 
 
 phantom waters. This great plateau is raised some fifteen hundred 
 feet or more above the level of the Red Sea ; and it extends, with 
 little variety or change of level, a distance of an hundred miles, to 
 its western extremity, at Djebel Er Rahah, from which the gi'ound 
 sinks down to Suez. The air was particularly bracing and inspiriting 
 on the lofty level, and we set our faces towards Cairo with a feeling 
 of exhilaration quite indescribable. The fresh breeze tempered the 
 rays of the sun, and we walked some miles over the firm smooth 
 gravel without fatigue, remounting during the great heat of noon, 
 and then taking another long walk before sunset. This vast plain is 
 intersected with limestone hills and shallow watercourses, running to 
 the north-west, dotted with tufts of coarse grass and shrubs, and affords, 
 after the rains, considerable pasturage to the Bedouins, who, in the 
 arid season, as, doubtless, of yore did the Israelites, conduct their 
 flocks to stations in the mountains. Indeed this vegetation, at 
 some little distance after, produced an appearance of cultivation 
 which, though illusory, was pleasing. 
 
 Afar off to the north-west, like a landmark in the Desert, is the 
 conspicuous peak of Djebel Araif-en-Nakah, with inferior ridges re- 
 ceding fi-om it. We could also make out the summits of the Tih, 
 and other mountains far to the southward. All day the air was 
 keen, and at night it became colder than I had before experienced 
 in the peninsula ; fortunately, we discovered the trunk of an old 
 acacia in the wady where we halted for the night, and made a 
 glorious bonfire. 
 
 As we sat by the burning logs, I gathered that Muhammed, 
 though quite a youth, was married, and lord of an extensive tent, 
 with "everything handsome about him," in the paternal settlement 
 among the mountains east of the Arabah. His father. Sheik Hussein, 
 is notoriously a man of great wealth for a Bedouin. They migrate 
 from well to well, as pasturage for their numerous flocks and horses 
 requires ; and I ascertained that they had their wandering harpers, or 
 chanters of romances, describing their wars and loves. One of these 
 I fell in with the following day, and should have bespoke a roundelay 
 for myself, with a view to appreciate the style, and get at some
 
 MANNERS OF THE BEDOUINS. 151 
 
 inkling of its meaning, but for the tumult in which, it will be pre- 
 sently seen, I managed to get involved. The Bedouin sheiks of 
 wealth have also, like Abraham, servants, or slaves, smuggled or 
 purchased from Egypt. Muhammed's camel was always led by an 
 Abyssinian, a man of singularly intelligent countenance, and who 
 seemed to be much consulted. Nor was this possession of slaves the 
 only instance of conformity to patriarchal manners and customs, 
 for it is found in many and even in minute particulars. The hard 
 dealing of Laban, who made Jacob serve his seven years for a wife, 
 and the craft and subtlety of the patriarch himself, are curiously 
 paralleled among them at the present day. They are, however, 
 as has been often noticed, somewhat indifferent to religion ; though 
 nominally Mahommedan, they have no ceremonial observances — no 
 settled worship — and it is very rarely they are seen to pray. Only 
 one instance of the kind fell under my own observation during our 
 stay in the Desert ; and the conduct of this individual, as is some- 
 times the case at home, lent no lustre to his profession of exclusive 
 piety. 
 
 The night being very cold I had retired early to rest, when Komeh 
 came in to say, that the Governor of Akaba had just arrived at the 
 camp ; he was pushing forward across the waste, in advance of the 
 caravan, to arrange everything in order for its reception, when our 
 tent and blazing fire caught his eye ; and being chilled to the bone 
 by the cold and mist, he gladly turned aside at a sight so Avelcome. 
 It became a question of etiquette whether I ought not to get up and 
 receive him ; but, as Stephens says of this particular functionary, there 
 are some governors with whom one may venture to take a liberty. 
 I was undressed, and so deliciously warm and comfortable in bed, 
 with a volume of Shakespeare in hand, and a glass of punch by 
 my bedside, that I was loath to turn out ; and, besides, Komeh de- 
 clared that to do so was quite unnecessary. I desired him to make 
 my apologies, and entertain him well. Coffee was made, our 
 Ptores produced ; and when he had fairly warmed and filled, Avith 
 many expressions of civility, he mounted his dromedary and rode off 
 again through the darkness. He gave us to understand that the
 
 152 
 
 FIRST VIEW OF THE CARAVAN. 
 
 caravan was just beliind, and that we should meet it early on the 
 following day. 
 
 I awoke next morning quite chilled ; and on stepping outside the 
 tent found everything enveloped in a white mist, as though we were 
 in the Highlands of Scotland, the ground thoroughly wet, and every- 
 tliing within damp and clammy. Komeh and the Arabs presented a 
 rueful appearance ; but coffee, our never-failing consolation, was soon 
 made : and now, in expectation of meeting the Haj, every one was 
 anxious to set himself off to the best advantage, even the most 
 ragged of the escort giving to their tattered tunics and well worn 
 bemous, a knowing arrangement ; I put on my last clean shirt with 
 a new tarboosh and red sash ; and Muhammed produced on this 
 grand occasion a new robe of crimson silk, assumed his huge yellow 
 boots, (in general his feet were naked,) and looked every inch a sheik's 
 son : for the passage of the caravan, coming, like Christmas, but once 
 a year, is regarded as a great event. We proceeded through the 
 rolling mists, missing now and then the track ; but as the sun rose, 
 his beams, shooting through the vapour, first gilding it into brilliant 
 beauty, and then gradually dissipating it, opened to us at length 
 
 " The wide expanse of burning sand and sky." 
 
 All was now eager anticipation, every eye fixed on the far horizon ; 
 but upon one of our Arab's climbing to the top of a hill by the way- 
 side, he declared, after long straining of his optics, that there was as 
 yet no sign of the advance of the caravan. So we went on till noon ; 
 when, on ascendinor a rido;e of sand-hills which had hitherto cut off 
 the distant view, we saw emerging suddenly from behind the 
 gay headdress of the Bedouin escort, and in a moment a dozen 
 of them, mounted on fleet dromedaries, dashed up at a rapid trot, 
 presenting as they rose against the sky one of the finest groups I 
 beheld in Arabia. Their white dromedaries, most gallantly capa- 
 risoned with long gay tassels, sweeping the ground and streaming 
 in the wind, were of great beauty as well as swiftness, and seemed 
 in their quick movement to fly across the light sand like a noiseless 
 cloud. Their riders, gaily dressed in long silk tunics, hanging loosely
 
 ^^
 
 \ 
 
 \
 
 SHEIK HUSSEIN. 153 
 
 about their sinewy frames, and splendid bernous adorned ^rith golden 
 fringes, were raised high on their saddle-bags, their spears glittering 
 and flashing in the sun : as they caught sight of us, with eager 
 laughing eyes, they hurried down to greet the young Muhammed, 
 and uttered a few words which induced him instantly to leave the 
 line and rapidly press forward. Following more slowly ; and reach- 
 ing the top of the sand-hill, we caught our first glimpse of the 
 caravan, and were just in time to witness the meeting with his 
 father and kindred in the valley below. It was indeed most beau- 
 tiful, that first view of the advancing pilgrims ; but still more inte- 
 resting was the family meeting, rich in reminiscences of patriarchal 
 times and manners. A green wady, sprinkled with shrubs and a 
 few gToups of wild acacias, was beneath us ; beyond lay the level 
 Desert, with the long winding procession stretching far away to the 
 utmost verge of the horizon. A gay group of Bedouin horsemen, 
 turning ofi" the main track, pushed through the shrubs, to halt under 
 a conspicuous cluster, while Muhammed, dashing on, met them half- 
 way across the wady ; but before he could arrive, his younger brother, 
 clad in all the finery of Cairo, dismounted, and breaking fr'om the 
 line, in a moment, was in Muhammed's arms, and dragging him, 
 yrith. childish glee, to the encampment, where his father. Sheik 
 Hussein, with his all splendidly-dressed cortege had already arrived. 
 For a few moments all was affection — from his father's embrace, Mu- 
 hammed passed round to salute his numerous retainers ; and then 
 sat down in the midst of them. Carpets were spread, pipes were al- 
 ready brought forth, a fire was kindled for coffee, and all surrounded 
 Muhammed to learn the details of his journey with the Inglis, at 
 the same time glancing towards myself and Komeh, who were more 
 slowly advancing towards the place of meeting. I was delighted 
 with this beautiful picture of Bedouin life ; but however losing they 
 might be among themselves, towards the Frank traveller, I felt sure, 
 they had but one feeling, — that of intense desire for his piastres ; and 
 remembering the antecedents of this grasping Sheik Hussein, and 
 the infamous extortions he had from time to time practised upon the 
 defenceless traveller, I determined to meet him with the reserve and 
 
 X
 
 154 POORER CLASS OF PILGRIMS. 
 
 coldness he raerited, and by no means to descend and take coffee 
 and a pipe with him, as I should have done with a man of more 
 generous mould, however inferior in degree. As I stopped my dro- 
 medary he stepped forward, the very picture of a politic Arab sheik, 
 cold, gi'ave, and ^nly in countenance ; he saluted me with measured 
 mien and manner, and beckoned an invitation with much grace 
 and dignity. Returning his courtesies, I desired Komeh to explain 
 that I was in haste, and anxious not to lose the passing caravan, 
 and declined dismounting: he bowed, and, as Komeh afterwards 
 told me, inquired of him how Muhammed had conducted himself 
 towards me on the journey — the faithful fellow bluffly enumerated 
 his misdeeds, and he received a paternal lecture as soon as I de- 
 parted. The sweeter subject of the piastres was deferred to a private 
 occasion. One touch of Bedouin feeling I was much struck with : 
 the old man charged his son to hasten back to his native deserts, 
 and not to linger even for a single day in Cairo ; this he said with 
 genuine warmth of feeling, which strangely contrasted with the 
 artificial courtesy adopted towards myself. His paternal solicitude, 
 however, might possibly have been heightened by the consideration, 
 that Muhammed had yet to receive one half of the payment due for 
 the camels, and it could not be too soon deposited in the proper hands. 
 Leading the young sheik to overtake us, we now proceeded to 
 meet the body of the caravan, which was coming on at a steady 
 pace, the attendant Bedouins generally hovering on its flanks, but 
 sometimes much in advance. First came a body of stragglers, who 
 seemed as if they had been suddenly wafted from the suburbs of 
 Cairo without note or preparation ; a large proportion of them were 
 tattered ragamuffins of the lowest aspect, the very oflFscouring of the 
 capital, and, to all appearance, utterly unfurnished for the journey — 
 some plodding on foot, others mounted on donkeys ; women even 
 bearing their children on their shoulders, the asses which carried 
 them having perished, — a painfully grotesque assemblage, for it 
 was past all question, that of these miserable wretches, too many 
 must fall victims to fatigue and privation during their lengthened 
 course. In their total want of preparation, their ignorance of
 
 THE HOD AGS. 155 
 
 the way and blind reliance on the providence of Allah, they 
 strongly reminded me of the description of those fanatic hordes 
 who went forth on the first crusade, and who perished by thou- 
 sands long ere they reached the borders of Palestine. They inquired 
 for Akaba, as those were accustomed to ask for Jerusalem, 
 supposing it always just at hand ; and were astounded when we 
 told them they had nearly three days' journey to accomplish. 
 Strongly contrasted with this deplorable rabble came spurring 
 forward detached groups of completely appointed Caireen gentle- 
 men, well mounted, well dressed, all theu- garments being fresh and 
 glossy, armed to the teeth, and followed at a distance by well- 
 laden camels, bearing comfortable tents and abundant stores ; some 
 of them, proud of their own gallant appearance and the spirit of 
 their horses, pranced and curvetted, and performed different feats of 
 horsemanship within sight of the hodags which bore their lady- 
 loves, throwing the dust without much ceremony into the eyes of the 
 poorer wayfarers. Of these well-armed men there was in all a con- 
 siderable number, and they alone might have made head against a 
 numerous body of assailants, at least, while as yet fatigue and want 
 of water had not reduced the strength and condition of the horse 
 and the spirit of his rider, as was the case with the gallant crusaders 
 in the olden time. Relying on the fleetness of their horses, for 
 enabling them to overtake the main body, several parties were 
 halting on sandy knolls at some distance, each planting a lance in 
 the sand as a rallying post, smoking and sipping coffee, and making 
 a noontide repast. The expense formerly incurred by some of the 
 richer class of pilgrims seems almost incredible : Burckhardt tells 
 us that "in 1816, several grandees of Cairo joined the Haj, 
 one of whom had one hundred and ten camels for the transport 
 of his baggage and retinue, and eight tents ; his travelling expenses 
 in going and coming must have amounted to ten thousand pounds." 
 But such zeal and such wealth are getting rarer and rarer every 
 year of fast- waning Islam. 
 
 The main body of the caravan advanced steadily in a compact 
 mass, five camels in depth. In the front was the cannon, used for
 
 156 THE HODAGS. 
 
 announcing the time of halting and starting again, on a sort of sledge, 
 drawn by three camels, harnessed in a peculiar manner, and each with 
 a soldier on his back. Next, in the centre, succeedad a long line of 
 camels, bearing palanquins, or hodags, occupied by women, a sort 
 of tent either built up on the back of a single animal, or slung, like 
 a sedan-chair, between two of them, and varying in the splendour 
 of its materials, and gaudiness of its decorations, with the rank of 
 its fair occupant ; some being quite radiant with crimson or green 
 silk, embroidered in gold, surmounted with glittering crescents, and 
 having small windows, latticed without and lined within with 
 looking-glass : most of these, on account of the heat, were thrown 
 open, and admitted occasional peeps at the languid sleepy eyes within. 
 To some of the tenants of these hodags Burckhardt gives, indeed, 
 but an equivocal character. " I saw with them," he says, "a party 
 of public women and dancing-girls, whose tents and equipage were 
 among the most splendid in the caravan." The camels bearing 
 these aristocratic and, as it might be, other ladies, were also fantasti- 
 cally decorated, and were led by well-dressed gi-ooms. In one of 
 the most sumptuous carriages to be found in the group reclined the 
 Emir-el-Haj, who bears rule over the caravan. The same form of 
 conveyance, but in ruder style, was adopted by many of the poorer 
 class of Arab merchants, except that, as in Cairo, the women, dressed 
 in blue wrappers, were, with their children, exposed to view, while 
 the husband himself was the conductor of his migratory household. 
 Camels in a double line, well laden with stores, merchandise, and 
 water-skins, paced steadily along on either side of the middle file, 
 accompanied by their attendant drivers. 
 
 A burst of tom-toms, a rude sort of xVrab drum, and a denser 
 crowd, now indicated the approach of the central and most impor- 
 tant part of the procession, viz., the Mahmal, or camel selected to 
 carry, under a costly canopy, the copy of the Koran sent to Mecca. 
 We came to a halt, to obseiTe it with more attention while 
 passing ; and if this singular spectacle arrested our notice, the 
 pilgrims, on their part, appeared no less surprised at the apparition 
 of a solitary traveller in a Frank dress, ooming across the Desert in
 
 DIFFERENT CLASSES OF PILGRIMS. 157 
 
 the opposite direction. Many were the questions put to Komeh, 
 who, to my renewed surprise, seemed here as well as everywhere else, 
 to know almost everybody ; and many were the salutations addressed 
 to myself, — though all, it was evident, did not regard me with quite 
 so favourable an eye, their welcome vaiying probably according to 
 the laxity or rigour of their Mussulman fanaticism. In this mixed 
 host, as in the Crusades of old, many and various were the shades 
 of character and motive impelling to the performance of a pilgrimage ; 
 and there would have been little difficulty in grouping the host 
 according to the indications afforded by their respective appear- 
 ance. The comfortable, nay, luxurious style of many showed forth 
 rather the man of rank or wealthy merchant, -ttith whom the fonual 
 sense of the fulfilment of a pious duty, which adds further con- 
 sideration to that of wealth, or the dissipation of ennui, or an eye to 
 profitable traffic, were motives largely qualifying the religious 
 fanaticism, which was strongly stamped on the scowling visages of 
 many of the more poorly provided. Some of these, from their green 
 turbans, had evidently gone on the pilgrimage before, and their general 
 mien bore out the well-known Eastern saying, which proportions to 
 the number of these pious journeys he has performed, the mingled 
 amount of rascality and fanaticism acquired by the pilgrim. Sallow- 
 faced dervishes abounded : these, says Burckhardt, " of every sect 
 and order in the Turkish empire, are found among the pOgruns ; 
 many of them madmen, or at least assuming the appearance of in- 
 sanity, which causes them to be much respected by the hadjys, and 
 fills their pockets with money. The behaviour of some of them is 
 30 violent, and at the same time so cunning, that even the least 
 charitably disposed hadjys gave willingly something to escape from 
 them." 
 
 The Mahmal, (seen in the centre of our view,) borne on the back 
 of a ffiie camel, selected for the purpose, and exempted for the rest 
 of its life from ordinary labour, consists of a square wooden frame, 
 tenninating in a pyramidal form, covered with dark brocade, and 
 highly ornamented Mith gilt fringes and tassals. Mr. Lane states 
 that in every cover he has seen, was worked a view of the Temple of
 
 158 THE MAHMAL. 
 
 Mecca, and over it the Sultan's cypher ; but these particulars 
 escaped my notice. According to the same excellent authority, 
 from whom I borrow some further details relating to the pil- 
 grimage, it contains nothing, besides two mus-hafs, or copies of the 
 Koran, one on a scroll, and the other in the usual form of a little 
 book, and each enclosed in a case of gilt silver, attached externally 
 at the top. It is related that the Sultan En-Zahir Beybars, King 
 of Egjrpt, was the first who sent a JMahmal with the caravan of 
 pilgrims to Mecca, in the year of the Flight, 670, (a.d. 1272,) or 
 675 ; but this custom, it is generally said, has its origin a few years 
 before his accession to the throne. Sheger-ed-Durr (commonly called 
 Shegeret-ed-Durr,) a beautiful Turkish slave, who became the 
 favourite wife of the Sultan Es-Saleh Negen-ed-Deen, and on the 
 death of his son (with whom terminated the dynasty of the house of 
 Eiyoob) caused herself to be acknowledged as queen of Egypt, 
 performed the pilgrimage in a magnificent " hodag," or covered 
 litter, borne by a camel ; and for several successive years her empty 
 hodag was sent with the caravan, merely for the sake of state. 
 Hence succeeding princes of Egypt sent, with each year's caravan 
 of pilgrims, a kind of hodag, (which received the name of " Maha- 
 mal," or " Mahamil,") as an emblem of royalty ; and the kings of 
 other countries followed their example. The Wahhabees prohibited 
 the Mahmal, as an object of vain pomp: it afibrded them one reason 
 for intercepting the caravan." 
 
 Immediately behind the Mahmal followed another camel, bearing 
 a square wooden seat, fenced with boards, in which was seated an old 
 hairy Santon, his head uncovered, and perfectly naked to the waist, 
 swaying to and fro, broiling and blackening in the fierce sunbeams. 
 Tliis singular being is called the " Sheik of the Camel," and receives 
 from government two camels and his provisions : he is probably the 
 same individual described by Mr. Lane, as having for several 
 years accompanied the caravan to and from Mecca. This old man, 
 in whom I supposed the whole animus of Mussulman intolerance to 
 be concentrated, saluted us very courteously. In addition to this 
 orifrinal, the Mahmal was a few years ago followed by another, and
 
 MR. LANE S ACCOUNT. 159 
 
 still more singular one : an old woman, w ith head uncovered, and 
 only wearing a shirt. She was called " Umm-el-Kutat," or the 
 mother of the cats, having always five or six cats sitting about her 
 on her camel. 
 
 The journey from Cairo to Mecca is long and arduous, and 
 occupies thirty-seven days,* and the route is, for the most part, 
 desert. " The route of the Egyptian caravan is far more dangerous 
 and fatiguing than that of the Syrian ; the road along the shore of 
 the Red Sea leadino; through the territories of wild and warlike 
 tribes of Bedouins, who frequently endeavour to cut oiF a part of the 
 caravan by open force." The caravan travels slowly but steadily ; 
 the time for halting and departing being marked by the sound of 
 the cannon. Komeh, who was himself a Hadji, had contrived, in a 
 rough way, to furnish me with an account of the details and priva- 
 tions of his pilgrimage, some of which were painful enough : they 
 agreed exactly with Mr. Lane's account. " It is not merely by the 
 visit to Mecca, and the performance of the ceremonies of compassing 
 the Kaabeh seven times, and kissing the ' black stone ' in each round, 
 and other rites in the Holy City, that the Muslim acquires the title 
 of ' El-hagg,' (or the pilgrim) : the final object of the pilgrimage 
 is Mount Arafat, six hours journey from Mecca. It is necessary 
 that the pilgrim be present on the occasion of a Khutbeh, which 
 is recited on Mount Arafat, in the afternoon of the 9th of the 
 month of Zu-1-Heggeh. In the ensuing evening, after sunset, the 
 pilgrims commence their return to Mecca." This was described 
 to me as a most exciting and splendid scene. Burckhardt gives an 
 interesting account of it in his journey to Mecca and Medina. 
 " Halting the following day in the valley of JMina (or, as it is more 
 commonly called, Muna,) they complete the ceremonies of the pil- 
 grimage by a sacrifice, part of the flesh of which they eat, and part 
 give to the poor." " This is called El-fida, (the ransom,) as it is 
 performed in commemoration of the ransom of Is'mael (or Ishmael) 
 when he was about to be offered by his father Abraham ; for it is 
 
 * Lane.
 
 160 MR. lane's account. 
 
 tlic general opinion ot the ]\Iuslims that it was tliis son, and not 
 Isaac, who was to have been sacrificed. 
 
 " Generally towards the end of Safar (the second month) the return 
 caravan reaches Cairo, sending in advance an officer, accompanied by 
 t\vo Arabs, on fleet dromedaries, to announce its speedy an'ival, and to 
 carry packets of letters to the relatives of pilgrims, for which he is 
 handsomely rewarded. Some then advance with provisions and even 
 music to meet their jaded friends. It is very affecting to see, at 
 the approach of the caravan, the numerous parties who go out with 
 drums and pipes, to welcome and escort to the city their friends 
 arrived from the holy places ; and how many who went forth in 
 hope, return with lamentation instead of music and rejoicing ! for 
 the arduous journey through the Desert is fatal to a great number 
 of pilgiims who cannot afford themselves necessary conveniences. 
 Many of the women who go forth to meet their husbands or sons, 
 receive the melancholy tidings of their having fallen victims to 
 privation and fatigue. The piercing shrieks with which they rend 
 the air as they retrace their steps to the city are often heard pre- 
 dominant over the noise of the dram and the shiill notes of the 
 hautboy which proclaim the joy of others." 
 
 We had now seen the best of the apparently interminable proces- 
 sion, for other bodies continued to advance at a distance, after the 
 main track, having fallen behind for want of proper and ready 
 organization, which may well account for the manner in which the 
 clouds of Saracens hovered of old about the Crusaders, surrounding 
 and cutting off separate detachments from the main body, as the 
 hostile Bedouins of the great Desert are also at times accustomed to 
 do ; and woe be to the luckless wretches, who fall victims to these 
 remorseless enemies of civilized man, with whom successful robbery 
 is an honourable trade of such ancient standing. All was evidently 
 hiirry and alarm in their minor detachments. 
 
 Reaching now a bold hillock of sand, occupied by a party of well- 
 dressed Turks who politely invited me to take coffee with tlicm, I 
 ascended it to take a farewell view of the caravan. I had been 
 delighted with every detail of the singular procession, and would not
 
 PARTING VIEW OF THE CARAVAN. IGl 
 
 have missed seeing it on any account. It is a titily oriental spec- 
 tacle, the most characteristic that exists, transporting the beholder 
 back to the very earliest historic times, and even into the clouds of 
 tradition and fable that precede it ; for there can be no doubt that 
 this mode of travel was practised from a period long lost in obscurity, 
 that it would naturally be resorted to in these regions in the very 
 infancy of the world, and that the organization of these migratory 
 hosts, must besides ever have been nearly the same. My thoughts 
 went back to the time of Joseph and the Patriarchs, to the days of 
 wealthy Tyre and Petra, and the later magnificence of Palmyra, 
 all connected with this primitive unchanged mode of travel across the 
 vast interior of Asia, all indebted for their splendour to the patient 
 camel, the ship of the Desert, so wonderfully adapted by an om- 
 niscient Providence for ministering to the wants of the Eastern 
 world, both in its earliest and advanced stages, equally needful to 
 the migratory camp of Bedouin wanderers, and for the requirements of 
 the luxurious trading cities of Egypt and Syria, which have for ages 
 dispensed the riches of the East throughout the Western world. 
 Those cities and their commerce have passed away, but the same 
 mode of travel still subsists, and ever must throughout those ex- 
 tensive regions of the world, to which it is exclusively suitable. 
 The long procession, with its face set towards distant Mecca, 
 defiled slowly away, the most advanced portion disappearing over 
 the sandy swell, where we had first encountered it. I could not but 
 follow it in imagination to its destined bourne, through the many 
 perils which hovered about its painful track, — the Bedouins of the 
 Great Desert, the fearful Simoom, the terrible destitution of water, 
 and often of necessary food, under which many, at least of the more 
 poorly provided and infirm, must sink : I thought, too, of the fate 
 which, even now, might be hovering over the gayest and best 
 furnished of these splendid pavilions, whose delicate tenants, unequal 
 to the struggle with protracted fatigue, must then be committed to 
 their last homes in the wilderness, to form a fellowship in the 
 grave with the broken-down straggler, whom the departing host 
 has heartlessly left behind to perish, to dig with his expiring
 
 162 ARRIVAL AT NUKL. 
 
 strength his o^vn shallow grave in the sand, and await the passing 
 of the angel of death. 
 
 The caravan had passed, and the Desert seemed more solitarj' than 
 before. We encamped at evening on one of the intermediate halting- 
 places of the Haj, in Wady el Arish, an important wady, which, 
 draining all this part of the Desert, falls into the sea near the town 
 of the same name, on the frontier of Egypt and Palestine. It is here 
 broad and shallow, full of shrubs, among which a numerous, but, as 
 far as we were concerned, quite inoffensive, party of Bedouins were 
 encamped. An old ruinous burying-place is near, enclosing a few 
 tombs, some of which are recent and handsomely decorated ; the 
 graves, probably, of rich pilgrims, who have died on their way. 
 
 Rolling mists, next morning, as before, through which we proceeded, 
 passing another burial-place at the foot of a sandy ridge, when the 
 cloudy veil suddenly drew aside, and presented to us, in starthng 
 proximity, the castle of Niikl, its white walls glittering in the sun. 
 This station, built on a rising gi'ound bordered by a few Bedouin 
 huts, and in the midst of a ^vilderness of open sand, is half-\\'ay 
 between the similar one of Ajrood, near Suez, and that of Akaba. 
 The construction of all is similar : a square court, surrounded by 
 ranges of buildings, a strong wall and towers, with a deep gateway, 
 much like one of our own Gothic fortresses. I had not intended to 
 make any halt here, except f .^r the purpose of watering the camels 
 and obtaining a supply. On reaching the gateway, I found a consi- 
 derable number of Arabs, together with the governor of the castle 
 and his subordinates, sitting within its deep cool shadow ; and an old 
 Bedouin was playing on a rude sort of harp, accompanying its twang 
 with an Arab romance, of which I had some cuiiosity to learn the 
 burden. But a far different music awaited me. I sat down a few 
 moments in the entry to rest myself and to salute them, and then 
 proceeded below to the well, to expedite the business of watering the 
 camels. This well is a noble work, deep, of fine masonry, with a 
 channel round the top for the animals to drink from ; and there are, 
 besides, large tanks for rain-water a little above, in good order,
 
 DISPUTE WITH THE TIYAHAH ARABS. 163 
 
 every provision being made at this midway station for securing to 
 the caravan a supply of this first necessary of desert life. 
 
 The men employed in drawing the water proved very mercenary 
 and troublesome ; and I was urging them forward, when my atten- 
 tion was arrested by a loud clamour at the castle door, where Komeh 
 was haranguing away, in the midst of a multitude composed of our 
 o-RTi Arabs and those of the tribe, with the oflScials of the castle, and 
 a number of hangers-on from the village below. I did not use much 
 ceremony in pushing my way through the crowd ; and, planting 
 myself before the governor, got Komeh to explain to me as well as he 
 could the cause of the tumult, which arose, I found, out of a difficulty 
 1 had not in the least anticipated when at Akaba. I found that, in 
 fact, my sheik of the Alawin was infringing on the privilege claimed 
 by each of the Bedouin tribes — that of carrying travellers across their 
 respective districts. We were here on that of the Tiyahah tribe ; 
 and, as our ill-luck, or perhaps the previous contrivance of some 
 straggling spy had brought about, we found the sheik of their tribe 
 sitting in the doorway, ■vvith some of his retainers, ready to intercept 
 us. Whether, in fact, Muhammed was justified, by Bedouin law, in 
 bringing me at all across this territory, or was merely subject to a 
 tribute for doing so, this being a sort of high-road, I knew not, and 
 had no means of ascertaining ; but, at all events, I determined to 
 submit to no delay, if possible. Drawing, therefore, out of my 
 pocket the agreement signed at Akaba, I pointed to the governor's 
 seal, and intimated that I had nothing to do with disputes between 
 the ArabSj but that I must proceed without hindrance, or I should com- 
 plain at Cairo. The governor replied, that the Tiyahah insisted on our 
 taking their camels in lieu of those of the Alawin, and that such was 
 the law. To this I rejoined, that it was indifferent to me whose camels 
 I took ; but that Muhammed and his men must fulfil their contract, 
 and accompany me to Cairo ; finally, if the Tiyahah camels were not 
 ready in half-an-hour, I would go on with those of the Alawin on my 
 o^^Ti responsibihty : at the same time, I told ^Muhammed to pay what- 
 ever was rio-ht between themselves, for which I would advance him sujfi- 
 cient money at Suez. This he promised to do. How I got through
 
 164 DISPUTE WITH THE TIYAIIAH ARABS. 
 
 all this, with the few broken words of English and Italian which 
 Komeh could understand, is at the present moment a mystery i 
 cannot myself understand ; but the pressui-e of necessity sharpens 
 one's wits, and developes unsuspected capabihties and resources. 
 Of the tumult that ensued I can give no idea : even if it be about a 
 piastre among Arabs, their gesticulation and clamour is laughably 
 furious ; and this was really a case of some importance. I had often 
 amused myself in Cairo in watching the progress of a street-row ; but 
 here it was quite different — I was a party concerned ; to stop, or even 
 mitigate the uproar was, however, quite impossible. Komeh's blood 
 was up ; in vain I seized him by the skirt, and endeavoured to haul 
 him off ; he was bent on having the best of the battle, and I was 
 glad to leave him and beat a retreat myself Without him I was, of 
 course, reduced to dumb show, and now descended to the well, where 
 I found my new guides busy in unloading the Alawin camels — an 
 operation which, for obvious reasons, required a superintending eye, 
 and which was carried on, like all the rest, in the midst of a wordy 
 tempest. It was some time before our new camels arrived ; and then, 
 of course, arose a fresh altercation about their respective loads, which 
 promised to be endless, the new sheik giving no eye to the business, 
 but engaged apart in a hot dispute with Muhammed. Again I 
 dragged him off, and insisted on his urging forward the work ; 
 meanwhile, I loaded my own dromedary, which proved to be a very 
 inferior one ; and, having seen the different burdens apportioned, 
 mounted, and rode off abruptly, in the midst of the uproar. The 
 sound grew fainter and fainter, but ever and anon burst out afresh, 
 " Hke the last drops of a thunder-shower,'' till I saw the camels 
 coming on one by one, and Komeh at length overtook me on a trot, 
 his fury, under the blessed influence of the pipe, subsiding fast into 
 his ordinary placidity and good-humour. After all we had not been 
 delayed quite two hours, but two such hours a day would kill any- 
 body. It was a sort of opera scene, to which must be played, for due 
 effect, a continuous accompaniment of kettledrums and trumpets : the 
 Desert seemed preternaturally quiet after it was over. 
 
 I found we were still surrounded by our own men, with one or
 
 THE TRACES OF THE CARAVAN. 165 
 
 two 01 the Tiyuhah, their sheik having remained behind, as 1 hoped, 
 for good. Striking into the Haj route, we met from time to time 
 with small bodies of M\ighreby pilgrims, of the poorer class, hasten- 
 ing to join the main body of the caravan. We continued to advance 
 across the vast gravelly plain, which, with little irregularity, occa- 
 sionally intersected with small ravines, extends to the foot of the 
 mountains of Er Rahah, and as we proceeded we met with traces of 
 the passage of the caravan, in numerous dead asses and camels, 
 which had evidently died from thirst and exhaustion, their carcases 
 enormously swollen ; and the pain of these spectacles was height- 
 ened by the reflection, that some poor pilgrims had here lost their 
 only means of proceeding through the terrible Desert, and, eq^ually 
 unable to advance or retreat, were too probably doomed to the same 
 fate as that which had befallen their unfortunate "montures/'' 
 
 It was in the cool of the following morning, (though the mention 
 of it falls in more naturally here,) as, full of satisfaction at the ap- 
 proaching end of our journey, I was walking briskly in advance 
 of the camels, talking with Komeh, when I was struck by the ap- 
 pearance of an object by the side of the path, which gave me 
 an undefinable sensation of heart-sickness ; and yet at the moment 
 I could not decide on what it was. It appeared at first rather like 
 the impress of a human body in the sand, than an actual corpse ; 
 but on a narrower scrutiny, from which, though shuddering, I could 
 not withhold myself, it proved indeed to be the remains of some 
 one who had there perished. The unhappy wretch had either 
 sunk exhausted as he lay, or perhaps was deposited in his position 
 by another : the former, at the time, struck us as more probable. 
 Only the upper part of the figure remained, the flesh was long since 
 consumed, and some of the bones were missing ; but the clothing of 
 the chest and arms still adhered to the skeleton, part bearing marks 
 of being torn by beasts or birds of prey, in the process of getting at 
 the flesh it shrouded ; the sand had filled the cavity where once the 
 heart beat out its last pangs, and had matted between and half con- 
 cealed the bones, so that in a short time these hideous vestiges 
 would be entirely obliterated. Komeh took his pipe from his mouth.
 
 166 THE DEAD SOLDIER. 
 
 and we endeavoured to make out from the remaining scraps of dress 
 tlic condition of the unfortunate man : so vague were they that 
 1 was quite at a loss ; but Komeh, suddenly stooping to the chest, 
 discovered some traces of the embroidered costume of the Egyptian 
 soldiery, and pronounced, and I believe correctly, the unfortunate 
 victim to be one of that wreck of Ibrahim Pasha's army, which, 
 after the last storming of Acre by the English, fled towards 
 Egypt, by different routes through the Desert. The recollection of 
 that terrible retreat, when thousands perished from thirst, famine, 
 and fatigue, is yet fresh in the minds of the Bedouins ; the fall of 
 Acre resounded through their Deserts, and impressed an awe and 
 dread of the power of the English which will be long ere it pass 
 away. Here, then, lay the mouldering remains of some poor Fel- 
 lah from the banks of the Nile, torn from his native fields, and 
 sent in chains to the army of the Egyptian tyrant, to fight battles 
 in which he had no concern, and close a life of slavery in a death 
 of hoiTor, and that to fulfil the ever-shifting policy of another and 
 a distant nation. The spectacle of this poor wTetch was little flat- 
 tering to one's national vanity : to see one of thousands we had 
 been instrumental in thus cutting off, was a very different thing 
 from perusing the brilliant accounts of our successes in the journals. 
 
 This evening we halted on the open plain, and by the last light 
 of the sun saw the dromedary of the other sheik, bearing him 
 fleetly towards our little encampment ; one or two of his men also 
 accompanied him, swelling our numbers considerably, to our very 
 great annoyance. We had now two factions in the camp, and our 
 progress hence to Suez was one continual brawl : with all the 
 weariness of the Desert, we suffered the worst annoyances of a crowd. 
 The contest began soon after this ill-omened sheik made his appear- 
 ance. It was I believe a simple question of piastres, the Tiyahah 
 being anxious to come at a knowledge of what I had paid Muhammed, 
 and to extract a large portion of the spoil ; he, a true son of his 
 father Hussein, being equally anxious to prevent both the one and 
 the other of these results. With a view to this, he besought me 
 and albo Komeh not to enlighten the sheik, as to what I had paid ;
 
 BEDOUIN DISPUTES. J 6? 
 
 and much as we despised him, we promised, for the sake of peace, to 
 comply with his wish, provided he dealt justly by him, in giving a 
 fair proportion of the money. What this really was, I of course, 
 unskilled in Bedouin law, could not determine, or I should at once 
 have decided the matter, had it been only to save my ears the in- 
 terminable disputes and discussions that ensued. 
 
 Next morning opened with a fresh row between the sheiks, who, 
 instead of loading the camels, began to quarrel about thp.ir claims ; 
 swords were drawn and flourished, and though in the abstract it little 
 concerned us whose throat was cut, (a consummation of which, how- 
 ever, there is but little dread, Arab valour being equally noisy 
 and prudent,) yet, as our progress was at a stand-still as long as this 
 dispute went on, I proceeded with Komeh to separate the disput- 
 ants, and had some difficulty in keeping in my intrepid follower ; 
 for with no weapons but those which nature had bestowed on him, 
 he would at any moment have readily attacked, and probably ■well 
 beaten, any two of these fellows, armed to the teeth, and formidable- 
 looking ruffians as they were. 
 
 The termination of the vast gravelly plain we had been crossing 
 from Nukl was now at hand ; but we could yet see it, spreading 
 out wide to our left, the mirage giving its distant portions the 
 appearance of a succession of blue lakes : directly in front were 
 the mountains which close it in ; and far to the right we could see, 
 stretching away, a still higher range running to the north, and on 
 the left the tops of the mountains about Wady Ghurundel, the 
 Taset Sudr being conspicuous afar. We entered these mountains 
 by a slight ascent, which struck, soon after, the head of a long, 
 winding valley, descending towards Suez : the immense plain we had 
 traversed floated away in mist, and we had now done with the pla- 
 teau of the Great Desert, upon which, di-eary as it was, and glad as 
 we were to have passed it, I looked back with no small interest. 
 
 And here, before we turn away from it, let us sum up in a few 
 words all that appears clearly known as to the course of the 
 wanderings of the Israelites. I have already anticipated, in some 
 general observations on the history of the Exodus, what must so
 
 168 WAFDKRINGS OF THE ISRAELITES. 
 
 forcibly strike every traveller, whether a believer in it or not ; on 
 the impossibility of so vast a host subsisting by natural means, 
 even for a single week, much less for forty years, in this region. And 
 if we renounce what may appear to some the extravagant and unau- 
 thorised supposition of a constant miracle, and endeavour on the 
 contrary, to regard only particular miracles described as exceptions 
 from the ordinary course of things, it would be impossible, in con- 
 sistency, to receive the history as it now stands at all, and we 
 should be driven either to deny that it had any foundation what- 
 soever, or to admit, at most, that the body of Jews that quitted 
 Egypt, and after sojourning in the Desert, finally made them- 
 selves masters of Palestine, must at least have been comparatively, 
 a mere handful of men. This may be deemed a gratuitous ques- 
 tion by many, but in reality it is not so, for the whole narrative 
 must receive its colouring and explanation according as we decide 
 it. If a constant and miraculous supply of food and water was 
 ever ready at hand, to meet the immense wants of two millions, or 
 even many thousands of people, it could little matter in what part 
 of the Desert they halted, or whether they pitched by the few foun- 
 tains that sprinkled over the wide and thirsty Desert — all rea- 
 soning as to their movements, founded on the ordinary nature of 
 things, falls at once to the ground. But leaving this question for 
 others to decide — the first stations of the Israelites correspond with 
 the wells found on the route at the present day, and which have 
 been noticed in the course of the narrative, and their course to 
 Mount Serbal, probably Sinai, has been already traced. From 
 thence they advanced to Kadesh-Bamea, it is said, by ]\Iount Seir, 
 whence we may infer that their course was by El Ain, towards the 
 edge or even down the bed of the Arabah, perhaps by Ezion-Geber, 
 which appears in their list of stations. The position of Kadesh, so 
 important and memorable a point in their history, was on the south- 
 ern mountainous frontier of Palestine, and in tlie " uttermost bor- 
 der of Edom," all which Robinson supposes to correspond with the 
 fountain El Weibeh, on the east side of the Arabah, not far from 
 Mount Hor. This, however, is theoretical. The Rev. Mr. Row-
 
 WADY EL HAJ. IQiJ 
 
 lands has since discovered a place bearing the name, further to the 
 westward, beneath the same mountain frontier, (see Map,) which 
 bends from the Dead Sea to the Wady El Arish, " the River of 
 Egypt," and near the great road which enters Palestine by Muwei- 
 leh. Here then, in all probability we are to look for the spot 
 whence the Israelites were sent back to wander forty years in the 
 wilderness ; and here the sacred narrative abruptly breaks off ; nor is 
 there, beyond the enumeration in Numbers of some of then- stations 
 alluded to, which appear rather to belong to their ^rst than, as com- 
 monly supposed, to their second journey to Kadesh, any account what- 
 ever of their proceedings in this interval, till we find them gather- 
 ing, at the end of their probation, at the same^spot. We can know 
 nothing therefore of their wandering course, except tliat, as they 
 were unable either to enter into Palestine, or Edom, or the country 
 of the Philistines along the Mediterranean coast, they must of ne- 
 cessity have been thrown back upon the great central Desert, and 
 the regions of Sinai, every part of which, we may infer, they must 
 have visited at different times. Their course after leaving Kadesh is 
 marked, on the contraiy, with the utmost clearness : they advanced 
 to Mount Hor, and thence, after being refused a passage through 
 Edom, they proceeded by the Arabah to the Red Sea, and thus 
 "compassed Edom,'' by gaining the high eastern Desert by way, 
 most probably, of Wady Ithm, or, if this old commercial road was 
 then fortified, by some opening still further south, thus falling even- 
 tually upon the territory of the Moabites. In short, their general 
 course cannot well be mistaken, while there is hardly a single point 
 of it that is not, and will not ever be, subject to controversy. 
 
 We followed down Wady el Haj, which is stony and dotted with 
 shrubs : numerous quails Avere running about among the rocks ; our 
 Arabs fixed several times, and we all pelted with large stones, but 
 without bringing down a single bird ; and we had no time to chase 
 them when out of reach. We had this evening a smart shower 
 while encamped, and Komeh was obliged to shelter his cookery with 
 an umbrella. 
 
 This morning we, for a time, left Wady Haj ; but after crossing
 
 170 CHANGE OF CLIMATE. 
 
 a small plain soon came into it again : here, however, its character 
 is totally changed, the whole region descending hence to Suez being 
 covered with shifting sands, which made our progress excessively 
 toilsome. How delighted was I to see again the long, dark range of 
 Mount Attaka above Suez, with the head of the gulf, and two noble 
 steamers from Bombay lying at anchor ! it was a sight of rapture 
 after my long and weary absence, and by association carried me 
 home at once 
 
 We were now anxious, if possible, to arrive at Suez this evening, 
 but found it out of the question. The region of sandy swells and 
 billows, sloping down to the Red Sea, through which we were floun- 
 dering, all loose in surface, and throwing out an intolerable heat 
 and glare, forbade any progi'ess but at the slowest pace ; and we 
 had besides great difficulty in keeping the direct way. Though the 
 caravan had so recently passed, almost every footprint had been 
 effaced by the sand-storms that had since occurred, and which had 
 completely disguised the track ; and but for the piles of stones which 
 have been erected in different places to indicate it, and some few of 
 which peeped up, we should have been utterly bewildered. 
 
 We reached at sunset a part of the gravelly plain, which re- 
 mained free from the encroachments of the sand, and there en- 
 camped. I could well say, as feelingly as Jacob, of these few last 
 days in the Desert, " by day the heat consumed me, and the cold 
 by night ;" with the setting sun, a keen blast from the north-west 
 set in, which chilled us all to the bone ; the wind drifted the sand 
 like sleet across the bleak unsheltered plain, piling it up on the 
 windward side of our tents' thin walls : at noon, we were in a burn- 
 ing clime and soil, and by night we had all the sensations of a 
 northern winter. To add to our misery, there was no brushwood, 
 and we all dispersed shivering in quest of a few stray sticks, of 
 which, after diligent research, but two or three handfulls could 
 be collected, scarcely enough to cook our evening meal, and utterly 
 insufficient to warm or even cheer us. Ah'eady much shaken by 
 this long peregrination, my health now sank entirely under this 
 sudden change of temperature. I was shuddering with cold all
 
 ARRIVAL AT CAIRO. 171 
 
 night, and did not get the chill out of my system for weeks after. 
 Komeh declared his intention of remaining a whole day in the ho* 
 bath when he reached Cairo. I expected this night would have 
 finished the old Arab, but he held out like the rest ; in tlie morning 
 we were as blue as a group of spectres. 
 
 From hence to Cairo, the direct road lay by the Haj route to the 
 Castle of Ajrud; but in the hope of finding letters at Suez, I diverged 
 from the direct track, and bent my course towards the mounds of 
 the ancient canal at the head of the gulf. The extensive view from 
 the high ground near our tent was waste and desolate, but of great 
 interest. Suez, with the head of the gTdf, and the mountain of 
 Attaka — the whole theatre of the miraculous passage — was before 
 us, and we could see far up the valley of the bitter lakes, almost, as 
 it seemed to me, across the Isthmus to the Mediterranean, the far 
 distance floating in an opal-coloured haze. According to the theory 
 of Mr. Sharp, before noticed, the Red Sea, or Gulf of Heroopolis, 
 once extended forty miles up this valley ; and, from what I saw of the 
 action of the shifting sands, and their immense accumulation, on 
 particular points, by the north wind, there is much in the physical 
 phenomena of the region to bear out his views. We were this 
 morning clambering up and down sand-hills of recent formation, and 
 twenty feet or more in height, succeeding each other like the rolling 
 SM'ell of the ocean, but they did not at this point extend to the shore 
 of the Red Sea. We reached, before noon, after much puzzling, the 
 mounds of the ancient canal, near their termination on the sands, 
 which have filled up the head of the gulf. The banks are still very 
 plainly discernible, rising a few feet above the level. They may be 
 traced by the eye for some distance to the north. (See Map.) 
 
 Diverging for a few houis to Suez, where the Tiyahah Arabs 
 left us, on the third following morning, we were near the termina- 
 tion of our journey, now protracted to more than six weeks. Our 
 last night in the Desert, was glorious : the light of the fall 
 moon lay broad and soft upon the sand — soon after midnight we 
 struck our tent for the last time, and then pushed on for Cairo. 
 The moon went down, but the stars yet hovered over the darkened
 
 172 CnARACTERfSTICS OF CAIRO. 
 
 expanse, then faded into the gradually paling sky ; the sun rose as 
 we mounted a gentle acclivity, and the green valley of the Nile, and 
 the countless minarets of Cairo, with the eternal pyramids, burst 
 suddenly upon us, and, with a satisfaction difficult to describe, I 
 hailed the termination of my journey. Thankfully and joyfully we 
 reached again the Bab-en-Nusr, or Gate of Victory, and plunged 
 into the crowds of the capital. Our desert-bred camels were startled 
 at the unwonted scene ; they darted off the path at every rencontre, 
 and, after many naiTow escapes from being dashed against the over- 
 hanging windows by their erratic movements, we dismounted and 
 walked into the Frank quarter, so battered in aspect, so gaunt and 
 sunken in visage, that scarcely any one recognised us. Cairo, after 
 so long an absence, seemed as familiar as Cheapside, and the cry of 
 the Muezzin as welcome as the sound of Bow bells. 
 
 And here my narrative should close, but that it may be perhaps 
 as great a relief to the reader as to myself, after so long an absence 
 in the Desert, to walk awhile through the streets of this beautiful 
 oriental capital. 
 
 Cairo has always been considered as the Arabian city, par 
 excellence, in regard to its architecture, and the manners and cus- 
 toms of its inhabitants. Under the energetic government of 
 Mehemet Ali, great changes have taken place, and many practical 
 improvements have undoubtedly been introduced. The streets, 
 which were formerly proverbial for filth, have been purified, and 
 new building regiilatious adopted, for the purpose of preventing 
 obstruction ; mountains of rubbish levelled and converted into 
 gardens ; and the sanitary condition of this old hotbed of plague 
 and pestilence much ameliorated. A shrewd shake has also been 
 given, probably without any such design, to that exclusive influence 
 of Mohammedan ideas, by which everything, private or public, was 
 controlled ; the wedge of progressive civilization has entered the old 
 structure built upon the Koran, and, whatever may be the full and 
 ultimate effect produced upon the fabric of Mahommedan religion and
 
 MADHOUSE— SLAVE-MARKET. 173 
 
 social life, the immediate change produced by the efforts of one man 
 — no common one, it is trae— is obvious ;. Cairo, as a curious spec- 
 tacle of Eastern life, with its anomalies and contrasts, is by no means 
 so piquant as it used to be ; moral excrescences and peculiarities, un- 
 der the pressure of new circumstances, having been as much reduced 
 as splendour of costume and external luxury have been abridged. 
 
 I well remember the impressions produced on the mind some 
 years back, when the old spectacles were in existence — when differ- 
 ent aspects of human degradation and misery, which elsewhere one 
 meets with isolated and wide apart, were here brought togetlier as 
 in a terrible tocus — when from the gay streets, full of the joyous 
 tide of daily life, you passed at once, and by a few steps, into the 
 foul dens where the unhappy insane, caged like wild beasts, and 
 ravenous with hunger, were exhibited as a show, in all the fearful 
 variety of their malady, aggravated by the most cruel treatment — 
 and when, shuddering, you emerged from this gloomy receptacle, 
 you were conducted, as to the next " lion," to the slave-market, 
 where a different, and hardly less miserable sight awaited you. In 
 a large court, surrounded with rude cells, basked whole crowds of 
 negro gii'ls, some lying in vacant apathy, sunk to the level of brutes, 
 without their instinctive joyousness, morally blind and dark, and 
 hardly human, with all their faculties undeveloped ; others, whose 
 mere animal gaiety raised them a little higher in the scale ; and 
 some brooding sullenly under the sense of cruel and hopeless wrong : 
 for all, even of this race, are not equally without the deeper feelings 
 of nature. We are no longer shocked with the sight of these 
 horrors. To the influence of European counsellors upon the mind of 
 Mehemet Ali, we may trace the recent abolition of the old mad- 
 house, with its abominations ; a new establishment in the Frank 
 quarter, airy and well-arranged, has succeeded to it ; and, owing to 
 different enactments, the harsher circumstances of slavery are also 
 in a way to be mitigated, and the trade in human beings itself, 
 though not abolished, is yet so much reduced as to have rendered the 
 market unworthy of its former distinction as a Caireen " spectacle." 
 
 No one can doubt that the influence of the Pasha's government
 
 174 SINGULAR APPEARANCE OF CAIIIO. 
 
 has had a tendency to abate, among the higher classes, the exclusive 
 influence of rehgious fanaticism, so characteristic of the Egyptians, 
 though the stream still runs strong and deep among the common 
 people. The cries in the market, the salutations of friends, the 
 supplications of beggars, the haggling of traders, the song of the 
 boatmen, and even the anacreontic of the rake, have all the same 
 curious infusion of pious sentiment. The invitation to prayer, 
 sounding from the galleries of the innumerable minarets, seems ever 
 to meet the ear, in rambhng thi'ough the city, like a strain of 
 solemn music, chanted by viewless spirits in the air. Santons 
 and Dervishes, the objects of popular veneration, still abound 
 in the capital of Egypt, though the filthy fanatics described by 
 previous travellers, who went about the streets in a state of nudity, 
 are no longer to be seen ; neither is public decorum shocked by the 
 seductive exhibitions of the Ghawazee, or dancing-girls, once so com- 
 mon in Cairo, but now not to be had for love or money ; though the 
 traveller, while missing this characteristic amusement in the capital, 
 may console himself with the expectation of witnessing it up the 
 coiintry, unless he is curious to see the not only more indecent, 
 but revolting, exhibition, when performed by those of the opposite 
 sex, which is allowed to be substituted by the Moollahs for the 
 genuine spectacle — a true instance, indeed, of '• straining at a gnat, 
 and swallowing a camel." 
 
 During my first day I was completely absorbed and fascinated 
 ^vith the strange novelty of everything I encountered. You step out 
 of your hotel * door, and are surrounded with a host of donkey-boys, 
 who start up from the comers of the streets, rushing at you from all 
 points, thrusting their animals upon your toes, and commending them 
 to you, as at Alexandria, in a Babel chorus of broken English and 
 Italian. I selected for my familiar a slender lad of thii-teen, with one 
 of those roguish and merry faces that Murillo alone could do justice 
 to — a precocious imp who, in my various rides, served well enough as 
 a cicerone, and whose odd and original observations, quaintly ex- 
 pressed in broken English, amused me much. Some Englishmen 
 * I must echo the praises justly bestowed upoH Shepherd's.
 
 DIFFICULTIES OF THE STREETS. 175 
 
 had taken him up to Thebes, and, by scraping together his eamino-s, 
 he had bought the spirited little animal upon which I rode, about 
 whose good qualities he did not vaunt without reason ; and with the 
 proceeds he supported himself and his mother. The ass of Cairo is 
 strong and spirited, with an upward jerk of the head, and lively eye ; 
 he is garnished with gay trappings, and will carry one a mile or two 
 at a gallop, and bear great fatigue : while the pith and endui-ance of 
 the young drivers are still more remarkable ; for in this hot climate 
 they will keep, by the hour, at a run behind you, urging and prod- 
 ding along their beasts with constant cries, as well over the burning 
 sandy environs of the city as in its cool and shady streets. When 
 mounted, the zeal of your attendant urges you forward at a rapid 
 trot ; and in a few moments you plunge into the narrow shady 
 lanes through which the whole population pours along in a state 
 of entanglement and confusion quite alarming to a no\dce. You 
 are equally puzzled how to avoid injuring, or being injured, in 
 the chance-medley. The camels, with large rolling eye, and slow 
 majestic gait, laden with huge leathern skins, bulging out, and drip- 
 ping with water, or covered with enormous loads, which extend fairly 
 across the narrow passage, stalk noiselessly along, threatening 
 to sweep you down ; and when with a desperate effort you have 
 but just cleared this peril, it is ten to one if you do not find 
 yourself going over some poor blind old woman, bearing a large tray 
 of cakes ; but there is no time to wait to offer redress — on you 
 must go, or share her fate yourself, rasping against some, thrusting 
 others against or into the open shops, knocking your knees, perforce, 
 against the side walls, setting your teeth and pulling in your animal 
 desperately at some comer, to avoid running down some file of veiled 
 ladies with their attendant guard ; your donkey-boy all the while, 
 deaf to your cries for a more moderate pace, with lungs and 
 stick urges your spirited " monture " through obstacles of all de- 
 scriptions, shouting, " Rigluk, rigluk ! — shimalak, shimalak ! " 
 as if the great Pasha himself were coming along. And what 
 adds much to your difficulties, is the melancholy number of 
 blind, or half- blind people you encounter, who unconsciously get
 
 176 NARRO-W LANES — ARAB WOMEN. 
 
 in the way : the proportion of these unhappy persons is very great, 
 what with the subtle penetrating dust, the glare of the climate, 
 the change from a dry to a moist atmosphere at the season of the 
 inundation, and the total neglect of the first symptoms of the ma- 
 lady. When you get a little over the first alarm, you begin to find 
 the scene fall of originality and interest. The streets, it is true, are 
 exceedingly narrow, for the sake of coolness, but the houses are infi- 
 nitely picturesque ; lofty and projecting, in the manner of those in 
 our old Gothic towns, story beyond story, till in the more confined 
 alleys, they fairly meet overhead ; the brilliant light strikes sharply on 
 some angle of their delicately carved and latticed windows, leaving 
 the street below in grateful shadow ; sometimes the rustling fans and 
 glowing bunches of fruit of the date-palm hang trembling over 
 the passage, from within an enclosed garden — or the white minaret 
 of a mosque, with galleries of the most exquisite arabesque tracery, 
 miraculously beautiful, shoots up into the blue with dazzling effect. 
 Then the crowd that pours through these singular alleys is so varied 
 in character and costume. What is more singular than the figure of 
 a Caireen beauty, poised high and riding after the fashion of men 
 upon the up-built pommel of an ass, covered with the richest carpets, 
 and led by an attendant groom in a long blue robe ; every observer 
 of taste must agree with Mr. Lane, that her shapeless wrapper of 
 black silk, mysteriously enveloping the whole person, and the white 
 muslin yashmak, or veil, hiding nearly all but the eyes, does but 
 defeat its original intent of masking the beauty that it really 
 heightens, at least to the imagination, by throwing the whole ex- 
 pression into those passionate orbs of liquid black, floating in humid 
 light, and heightened with the artificial dye of henna on the eye- 
 brows and lids, which thrill tlu'ough you in the soft obscurity of the 
 street, and make you fancy the Arab women the most lovely in the 
 world. Indeed, for this impression, as maliciously suggested by a 
 French lady, they are in no small measure indebted to the friendly 
 veil, that conceals, to use her very words, " la bouche qui est mau- 
 vaise, les dents qui sont horribles," though this must, I believe, be 
 regarded only as the detraction of the envious. A long course
 
 BAZAARS. 177 
 
 through the narrow sinuous alleys at length leads into the 
 bazaars, through which the principal street passes ; but little wider 
 than the others, except in particular places, such as at a fountain, 
 in front of a large mosque, or where there are a considerable number 
 of shops ; it is sometimes covered in with vaulting, and elsewhere with 
 beams and a matting of palm-sticks and reeds ; the sunlight is 
 thus veiled, and the coolness is further increased by watering the 
 earthen roadway. In this central avenue are seen all ranks and 
 classes, with their distinctive costumes, which, though less splendid 
 than those formerly displayed here, are still very rich and varied. The 
 Turkish or Arab grandee, mounted on a Dongola horse, gaily and 
 tastefully caparisoned, preceded by his running Seis, or groom, mem- 
 bers of the humbler class of traders, gloomy Copts, Arabs, well dressed 
 Armeniaiis, shabby Jews, Negro slaves, crowds of pedestrians in poor 
 dnd tattered garb, water and sherbet sellers, venders of cakes and 
 confectionary, files of laden camels, sometimes bearing on their backs 
 hodags containing women and children, with their Bedouin conduc- 
 tors, of wild desert look and simple robe, pass incessantly to and 
 fro ; the light shooting down from above through the interstices of 
 the roofing, catches fitfully on this brilliant and ever-shifting variety 
 of moving colours and fantastic forms. The black costume of the 
 ladies has been already noticed ; it mingles curiously with the rest ; 
 and when we see some fair one, who has dismounted from her ass, 
 and is earnestly conversing with a handsome bearded vendor of shawls 
 or slippers in the half- obscurity of his little shop, we are reminded of 
 the adventures in the Arabian Nights, which are not altogether 
 without a parallel in our own days, if we are to believe those best 
 informed on the subject. Some architectural scenes in this central 
 bazaar are extremely striking ; such, for instance, as the mosque 
 and tomb El Ghoreeh, given in Hay's beautiful work ; and in other 
 places, where the magnificent facade of one of their religious edifices 
 ranges along the street, with its delicate minarets and lofty portal, 
 through which you get glimpses into the cool interior courts, with 
 the worshippers prostrating themselves, or where some fountain 
 projects into the passage, crowded by numerous applicants for the 
 
 2 A
 
 178 FOUNTAINS. 
 
 refreshing beverage, i\liich is sought for with an avidity which 
 would gratify a temperance reformer. Indeed, nothing in oriental 
 cities is a more picturesque object than the Seheel, or public 
 fountain — a private endowment for the gratuitous supply of water 
 to passengers ; * nor can anything be more justly cited as proving 
 the charitable disposition of the inhabitants. These buildings are 
 very numerous in Cairo ; and many of the older ones are fine speci- 
 mens of the Arabian architecture when it was in its characteristic 
 perfection : — the larger generally occupy some angle at the comer of 
 two or more streets, or in some public place ; the basement is occupied 
 as the fountain, having openings filled in with railings of delicate 
 tracery, sometimes, like the pious inscriptions which half cover the 
 walls, richly gilt : the lower part of the railing is open enough to 
 admit of the passage of the small cups attached by chains, in which 
 the water is dispensed to all comers ; while others bring vessels, which- 
 are filled for household purposes. In a climate like that of Egypt, 
 and where, besides, the use of intoxicating drinks is almost unknown, 
 at least, among the many, these establishments are indeed works of 
 mercy, and their foundation displays the brighter side of the moral 
 influences of Mohammedanism : very pleasing it is to see the groups 
 which are constantly replacing one another, mostly consisting of 
 the poorer class of wayfarers, thus pro\dded with so great a neces- 
 sary. Mr. Lane informs us, that the gratuitous distribution of water 
 is an act of charity frequently performed by the visitors to the 
 tomb of a saint, on the occasion of a religious festival ; and the 
 water-carriers, employed for this purpose, are then allowed to re- 
 plenish their skins at the public fountains, which they invite the 
 passengers in a short chant to partake of freely in the name of 
 God, praying, at the same time, that paradise and pardon may be 
 the lot of the charitable donor. In every part of the East, the 
 erection of fountains was a favourite work of ]\Iussulman piety, 
 and nothing inspires a greater feeling of melancholy in the traveller, 
 as lie traces the half-forgotten path through some remote district, 
 than, as he hastens in a burning day to slake his thirst at some small 
 
 * Lane.
 
 COFFEE-SHOPS. 179 
 
 white fountain by the wayside, to find it ruined and forsaken ; the 
 name and memorial of its founder, with his pious quotations from 
 the Koran, declaring its origin and purport, surviving his mer- 
 ciful and useful work. A loud babbling often surprises the passenger 
 from the upper story of the principal fountains : this is often occupied 
 as a public school, in which children are taught at a very trifling 
 expense ; but their ordinary education does not go beyond reading 
 the Koran, with occasionally WTiting and arithmetic. 
 
 From the principal street branch off a number of other covered 
 bazaars, devoted to particular departments of traffic. The Turkish 
 clothes bazaar is very tempting to a stranger, with its array of gay 
 gilded-jackets, splendid sashes, and embroidered handkerchiefs. 
 Coffee-shops are to be met with in every part of the bazaars, as well 
 as of the city : there are, according to ^Ir. Lane, above a thousand of 
 them in Cairo. They are generally small, consisting of a little room, 
 with a front of open wood- work, and an external bench, where passen- 
 gers may sit and smoke, the interior being provided with others for the 
 same purpose. Coffee is so universal an indulgence in the East, that 
 every nook and comer is furnished with one of these humble shops, 
 from which, however, the coffee has assuredly, to the taste of a 
 genuine amateur, a flavour and relish not obtainable elsewhere : 
 it is serv^ed for a very trifling consideration in small cups, and 
 usually without sugar. 
 
 Another characteristic figure is the sharp -featured Jew money- 
 changer, established at the comer of some shop, whose red hair and 
 peculiar physiognomy, with the turban and di'ess of nasty black, 
 would at once distinguish him as one of a different race to the 
 Turkish or Arab Egyptians. The Jcavs in Cairo, as in other 
 oriental cities, are branded with the popular contempt, but, under 
 the govemment of Mehemet Ali, enjoy greater protection than else- 
 where in the East. Their quarter is horribly gloomy, and character- 
 istic of their degraded and dangerous position; its alleys are so 
 narrow that the upper stories meet, and strong heavy gates at 
 either extremity speak of the perils to which they are exposed at 
 any period of public commotion. The richer, are, as usual, ' Sarafs,'
 
 180 TAILORS — WATER-CAKRIERS. 
 
 or money-brokers. We often see one of the liumbler sort, plying 
 the immemorial vocation of his tribe, and possibly wealthier than his 
 sordid appearance would warrant one in believing. 
 
 In the drapers' shops, the goods are laid away on shelves ; but 
 the more attractive articles, such as embroidered handkerchiefs, are 
 slung temptingly from above : on the shop-board in front sits the 
 proprietor, engaged in tailoring, with his pipe by his side, to fill up 
 the inteiTals of his labour. The shop in Cairo is merely a recess 
 consisting of one or two divisions enclosed with shutters, which are 
 opened in the day ; in front is a " mastabah,'"" or small raised plat- 
 form, covered with a mat, carpet, and cusliions, on which the pro- 
 prietor sits, eats, works, smokes, and takes his noonday nap, or per- 
 forms his devotions in pubHc. The customer is generally welcomed 
 with pipe and coffee, and the negotiation for an article usually 
 lasts till it is finished, at the least. Another and a very com- 
 mon character at Caii'o, is the water-carrier. The supply of 
 Nile water, which is preferable to that obtained at the foun- 
 tains, is quite a trade ; it is brought from the river in skins, on 
 the backs of camels and asses, with whom a rencontre, as before 
 observed, is anything but agreeable ; and it is then retailed about 
 the streets. Sherbet and other refreshing drinks are carried about 
 much in the same manner ; and its itinerant venders ha\e a 
 characteristic cry, generally of a religious nature. 
 
 Elegant gateways give access to the " Wekidehs,"* or, as they 
 are called in Constantinople, " Khans," large square courts, with 
 a single entrance, surrounded with buildings, the lower story of 
 which is appropriated to the reception of merchandise, while the 
 upper serves for lodgings for the proprietor. Of these there are a 
 gi'cat number in the city, and the deep gateways which conduct into 
 them from the main street are generally beautiful specimens of 
 Arabian architecture, adding very much to the striking character of 
 the streets ; a large chain is slung across the entry, and the heavy 
 portal locked at night. Branching out of the principal bazaars, or 
 " sooks," arc numerous smaller ones, very narrow, and, like those in 
 
 * Lane.
 
 SMALLER BAZAARS. 181 
 
 other oriental cities, appropriated specially to different branches of 
 trade ; some all brilliant with heaps of red and yellow slippers, and 
 glittering with gold-foil, and looking-glass. I liked much to wan- 
 der among these cool and dusky passages, covered in and sunk in a 
 rich gloom of colour, redolent of attar and aromatic and musky 
 scents, each presenting a succession of pictures in character quite 
 Rembrantesque ; such as the grave old merchant, dreamily smoking, 
 seated on his carpet, half hidden in the obscurity of his naiTOw 
 shop, the gleams of light catching on the rich piles of shawls and 
 slippers in which he is half buried ; or some lady in her black silk 
 wrapper, gliding mysteriously down the shady avenues. In fact, 
 either to the painter, or to one who can find a pleasure in entering 
 into the peculiar and novel appearances of a totally different mode 
 of life, a promenade in these bazaars, where scenes and incidents 
 of oriental manners, lively, curious, and startlingly picturesque, suc- 
 ceed each other like the confused and rapidly shifting phantasma- 
 goria of a pleasant dream, will be matter of endless interest and 
 amusement. 
 
 Let us hasten, however, for a while from the crowded heart of the 
 city up to the height of the citadel, from which we can behold its 
 entire extent stretched out beneath our feet. Away from the main 
 concourse, the narrow streets become wonderfully silent, and almost 
 meeting above, are always in deep shadow ; you see not a soul 
 through the gloomy wooden lattices, and were it not for some pas- 
 senger of whase approach you are unconscious till you nearly run 
 against him round a comer, you might suppose entire quarters 
 were plague-smitten and abandoned : you go on threading these 
 long winding lanes, sometimes coming on some old dilapidated 
 mosque, some exquisite specimen of that peculiar architecture, 
 which for symmetry and fancifol originality, was never surpassed, 
 and which once perished will never be restored ; and you look upon 
 it with the melancholy feeling, that it is tottering to final ruin. 
 Emerging at length from these cool though confined alleys into 
 the blazing sunshine, we follow a broad open way leading up to 
 the citadel, which occupies the level space on the top of a pile of
 
 182 
 
 VIEW FROM THE CITADEL. 
 
 crags, jutting out from Mount Mokattam, of which the yet higher 
 rancce commands and overlooks it. 
 
 A gateway gives entrance to the first court, and passing out 
 of this through a second we come upon a broad terrace, where we 
 may revel in the soft air and bright light of the clime, and enjoy a 
 magnificent view over Cairo and the valley of the Nile. The city 
 lies far below in an irregular semicircle ; and a more truly Eastern 
 capital, unaltered by modem innovations, it would be impossible to 
 imao-ine : it is only here and there we catch the walls ; but a perfect 
 forest of minarets springs up in the crowded space they enclose, 
 exhibiting the most curious and fantastic, and for the most part 
 very beautiful, varieties of form. The domes, enriched with oriental 
 devices, are numerous but not large, with the exception of that of 
 the Mosque of Sultan Hassan, which with its lofty minaret and sin- 
 gular porch, forms a noble object, rising above the Roomaylee, an ex- 
 tensive and noisy open space, extending along the foot of the arsenal, 
 which lies just beneath the lofty wall from which we are looking 
 down. Further to the left appears the extensive square court, 
 with a dome in the centre, of the Mosque of Tooloon, the oldest 
 in Cairo ; its arcades exhibit an early specimen of the pointed arch, 
 and its minaret, rising fi-om a square base, and having an external 
 staircase, is unique and curious : beside these prominent mosques 
 there are none which, at this distance, present any salient features. 
 
 Cairo appears from this point to be exceedingly crowded up with 
 buildings, and the hum of its population comes up from the square 
 beneath, and other densely peopled places ; yet extensive portions 
 are but thinly inhabited, and an entire district, " the Boorg e Zifr," 
 is quite forsaken, and mouldering like the tombs in the surrounding 
 cemeteries. The city is about two miles in length by one in breadth, 
 and the population is estimated at about two hundred thousand 
 souls, being here, as throughout Egypt, on the dechne. 
 
 This immense city, as we are told by Lane and Wilkinson, has 
 been gradually formed. Fostat, on the banks of the ISilc, now 
 erroneously called Old Caho, was the first city founded by the 
 victorious Arabs after their conquest of Egypt from the Byzantine
 
 CHANGES IN THE CITY. 1S3 
 
 Emperor ; a second, adjacent to it, was added, and became the seat 
 of government ; and a tliird succeeded, under the Tooloon dynasty, 
 in the vicinity of the great mosque of that name ah-eady noticed. 
 Thus the tide of popuhation appears to have flowed gradually from 
 the river towards Mount Mokattam, till finally Musr el Kahirah, 
 (corrupted into Cairo,) was founded by Goher, a general of Moez, the 
 first of the Fatemite dynasty in Egypt, who soon after transferred 
 his abode to the new city. The ground of this appellation, 
 el Kahirah, is disputed ; some maintaining that it was intended to 
 signify "the victorious;" others the "vexatious," the latter from 
 the planet ascendant at its erection being that of Mars, (el Kahir,) 
 and from an accident that occasioned its foundation at an unpro- 
 pitious moment. The story, which sounds much like a satire upon 
 the professors of the art, is, that the astrologers, who were watch- 
 ing for a favourable moment, were to have given the signal to 
 the expecting builders, by means of bells suspended to a cord which 
 enclosed the circumference of the walls ; but an untoward raven, by 
 alighting briskly on this before the time, and putting the bells in 
 motion, upset all the precautions of the astrologers, by setting the 
 builders to work ere the propitious moment had arrived. Plague, 
 pestilence, and famine might have justified even a more mournful 
 designation. 
 
 The eastern part of the city only was first enclosed as far as the 
 " Bab," or Gate Zooayleh ; but Saladin strengthened the original 
 wall, and enclosed all the space now included in the city with ano- 
 ther, taking in the rock of the citadel. The river formerly bent 
 round from Fostat to the vicinity of the Mosque of Tooloon, pass- 
 ing close under the western outskirts of the city, but the sinking of 
 a large boat in the channel occasioned the formation of an island, 
 the intervening channel was dried up, and tbe river gradually 
 retired to its present bed, leaving the alluvial plain on which Boulak 
 has subsequently been built. Of these changes the reader may 
 form a general idea by referring to the frontispiece.* 
 
 The history of Cairo has not the deep interest, or the remark- 
 
 * Wilkinson and Mrs. Poole.
 
 184 ASSOCIATIONS. 
 
 able vicissitudes, of that of Constantinople. It has sustained, 
 with the exception of a fruitless attack by Amaury, the crusading 
 king of Jerusalem, no important siege ; in fact, its story is but 
 that of the different intrigues and successive possession of Mussul- 
 men masters, Tui-kish, Arabian, and Memlook, A^ho have by turns 
 struggled for the possession of this oppressed province or " basest of 
 kingdoms," as it has alternately proved. 
 
 Lofty mounds of sand and rubbish rise above the south side of the 
 walls, between which and the parallel and sterile crags of Mokattam, 
 lies a sandy valley, which though so near the city is completely hidden 
 from it. Here, in the midst of a wilderness of others smaller and more 
 modem, extend in long perspective the mouldering, magnificent tombs 
 of the Memlook Sultans ; their beautiful domes and slender mina- 
 rets stretching from the foot of the citadel, along the rear of the city, 
 far towards the distant Desert of Suez, which expands from the very 
 gate of the city to the far eastward horizon. " When we look over these 
 mosques, and minarets, and tombs of the 'great Alcairo,' as Milton 
 calls it, the works of the modern Arabs, in search of the scenes and 
 remains of remote antiquity, the chief object in the landscape, or at 
 least the chief in the mind, are the three pyramids, standing on a 
 raised rocky terrace on the further side of the Nile, and backed by 
 the low hills of the boundless Libyan Desert, dim and faint in the 
 ruddy haze. The river flows north and south through the bright 
 green valley, with its variegated fields and palm-groves, till lost on 
 either side in the horizon ; to the south, where it has come from its 
 unknown sources beyond the bounds of Egypt, beyond Nubia, 
 beyond Ethiopia, beyond Meroe, beyond Abyssinia, claiming the 
 worship of the husbandman by its unknown origin, as by its bene- 
 fits ; and to the north, gliding on to the Delta, where it is divided 
 into several streams, and where the worshipper had to inquire of 
 the priest which of them was the Agathodemon, or great God of 
 the country. On this side of the pyramids is the beautiful island 
 of Rhoda, so named from its roses ; and nearer still, a dark line on 
 the bank of the river, is seen, among its crowd of boats, the 
 to\n\ of Fostat, or Babylon, communicating with the city by the
 
 MEMPHIS — HELIOPOLIS. ] 85 
 
 long aqueduct of Saladin, and one of the five towns, in which, as 
 Isaiah tells us, Hebrew was the language heard in the streets. 
 When the Arabs conquered Egypt, Babylon made a stout resistance 
 to Amrou's forces. The garrison, when routed, crossed over by the 
 bridge of boats to the island of Rhoda ; and after this defeat, 
 Egypt Avas soon lost to the Greeks. A little to the left, between 
 the pyramids and the Nile, is the site of Memphis, once the capital 
 of the kingdom — here lived the kings from whom Moses fled. 
 Further to the left are the pyramids of Abooseer, and then the py- 
 ramids of Sakhara, thus fringing the hills in the neighbourhood of 
 the capital with tombs for many miles. On this side of the valley, 
 opposite to Memphis, is the Hill of Toura, the Mons Troicus 
 from which part of the stone was quarried for the pyramids. 
 
 " Towards the north, on this side of the river, lies the Heliopolite 
 Nome, the Land of Goshen of the Bible. The dark green fields 
 of the valley are divided from the light yellow sands of the 
 Arabian Desert by a well-marked line. Heliopolis, where Moses 
 planned the liberation of his countrymen, where Plato afterwards 
 studied, the seat of early Egyptian learning, is within the limits 
 of the landscape, and the obelisk of Osirtesen is still standing there 
 among the palm-groves of INIatarea. In the distance also may be 
 faintly traced the great fork of the Delta, where the river, after 
 having run in one stream for fifteen hundred miles, is first divided. 
 One stream runs by Sais to Canopus, and the other by Bubastis to 
 Pelusium, each however to be divided again into several others. 
 Here were the two deep fords at which the first Ptolemy defended 
 his new kingdom against Perdiccas. 
 
 " Across the narrow valley, between this hill and the pyramids, 
 have marched many kings at the head of their armies : — the great 
 Rameses, Pharaoh in pursuit of Moses, Shishank the conqueror of 
 Jerusalem, Alexander the Great, and Cambyses of Persia. This 
 plain has been trod by Herodotus the father of Greek History, 
 Jeremiah \Ahen composing his Lamentations, Strabo, Pausanias, 
 and countless old travellers, who have all from the earliest to the 
 present time wondered at the pyramids as they passed ; perhaps the 
 
 2 B
 
 186 Joseph's well. 
 
 earliest as certainly the largest buildings in the world. No ^^'onde^ 
 that ignorant persons when looking at them, unable to understand 
 the patience that must have been employed in building them, have 
 supposed that men in those days were of larger stature and of 
 longer lives than ourselves.*'" 
 
 The interior of the citadel is exceedingly confined ; but contains 
 some objects worthy of a visit. The well called Beer Yoosef 
 (Joseph's Well) is a very extraordinary excavation, supposed by 
 Wilkinson to have been originally hewn in the rock by the ancient 
 Egyptians, like the tombs on the hill behind the citadel, and filled 
 with sand at the period when Saladin, who strengthened the city 
 and citadel by the erection of a new wall, discovered and excavated 
 it : others suppose that it owes its original excavation either to 
 Amer or Saladin himself. The descent to it is by an external 
 gallery, and the peep down into its deep dark pit is gloomily impres- 
 sive, and even awful. It is no trifling work : it consists of two 
 shafts, the upper of which is about one hundred and fifty- five feet, 
 the lower about one hundred and twenty-five, making a total depth 
 of two hundred and eighty feet. The water, which is slightly brack- 
 ish, filters through, it is supposed, from the Nile : it is raised up by 
 means of a wheel turned by a cow, in a chamber halfway down. 
 
 " Joseph's Hall," as it was called, (of which there is a drawing in 
 Hay's beautiful work on Cairo,) has been removed to make way for 
 the new mosque, building by Llehemet Ali, and its columns trans- 
 feiTed to this building, which promises when completed to be a 
 conspicuous ornament to the city on a distant view, rather from the 
 remarkable beauty of the alabaster of which it is constructed, than 
 from any beauty of design, the mixed and unmeaning style which 
 prevails in the modern mosques of Constantinople, having succeeded 
 to the genuine Saracenic in this and other modern buildings. 
 
 The Pasha's palace is airy and handsome, and the situation is 
 very fine ; but if the traveller has seen that at Alexandria, he will 
 find nothing at all novel in the heterogeneous style and bad frescos 
 of its interior. 
 
 * Sliarpe.
 
 DESTRUCTION OF THE MBMLOOKS. 187 
 
 The scene of the massacre of the Memlooks is now much dis- 
 guised, yet the spot is pointed out where Emin Bey spurred his horse 
 over the parapet. This event will ever cast a sinister interest over 
 the Citadel of Cairo, which is otherwise without historical associa- 
 tions of importance. 
 
 I throw together the details as I have read them in different ac- 
 counts, in which, as might be expected, there are some slight discre- 
 pancies. 
 
 The Memlooks had been looking forward to the expedition 
 against the Wahabees, for the opportunity of regaining their power 
 and of crushing the Pasha, they had even been incautious enough to 
 allow their intentions to transpire, of which Mehemet Ali had 
 received warning, though he affected to treat the information with 
 indifference. It was now in fact a struggle between them for life 
 or death, and it only remained for the most subtle to outwit his an- 
 tagonist, and effect that by treachery which could not be attempted 
 by open force. And looking to the barbarism of Eastern govern- 
 ments, the constant use of similar expedients by the Porte, the 
 certain destruction of the Pasha himself if he failed to be before- 
 hand with his adversaries, perhaps his conviction that the improve- 
 ment of Egypt, as well as the fulfilment of his own ambition, were 
 impossible till this band of poHtical locusts should be exterminated, 
 we cannot doubt that this deed must have appeared to his mind in 
 the light of a stern necessity, and its unrelenting and complete 
 execution to be the fearful die on which his fortunes were at stake. 
 
 The investiture of his son Toossoon Pasha, with the command 
 of the above-mentioned expedition, was the pretext for drawing the 
 Memlooks into the snare spread for their destruction. The cere- 
 mony was fixed for the 1st of March, 1811. — " That day,'' said an 
 inhabitant of Cairo to M. Forbin, " the sun rose the colour of blood." 
 The concourse of public ofiicers was great, and the Memlooks, 
 appearing for the last time in all their splendour, encumbered with 
 their rich dresses and finest arms, and mounted on their spirited 
 chargers, repaired to the great court of the citadel. The Pasha, 
 seated among the Turkish chiefe, and attended by some confidential
 
 188 DESTRUCTION OF THE MEMLOOKS. 
 
 officers, received them with the usual forms of Eastern courtesy, 
 most lavish when they are intended to mask some sinister intent ; 
 it is said that he even summoned unusual vivacity to conceal the 
 mortal anxiety of the hour. 
 
 In the meantime, the agents of destruction, the terrible and un- 
 scrupulous Amaoots, whose savage and loathsome appearance must 
 have struck every traveller, were concealed about the walls and 
 towers commanding the descent. The Memlooks, having mounted 
 theu' horses, descended, and were about to defile through the gates 
 leading down into the city, when to their horror they found them 
 closed, and the keepers missing. Their hopeless position now flashed 
 when too late upon their minds. They turned round to seek some 
 other outlet from al)ove, or to cut their way to the Pasha, but every 
 precaution had been taken against their despair. The work of de- 
 struction commenced ; an exterminating fire from all sides %\'as 
 poured upon them, man and horse as they raged madly to and fro 
 fell pierced with balls ; some, dismounted and on foot, attempted 
 in their despair to find some opening, or some foe whom they might 
 at least die- in opposing ; others invoked mercy from their inac- 
 cessible destroyers, but this even to the youthful Beys, mere lads, 
 was refused ; such as were not killed by the balls were dispatched by 
 the Arnaoots, and the cries of the victims were soon hushed in the 
 silence of death. The ruthless work was done, but the Pasha him- 
 self had nearly fallen a victim to the spirit of destruction he had 
 invoked ; the Amaoots, bound by no tie to his interests, in the 
 fierce excitement of the moment were ready by another step in 
 blood, to raise themselves and their favourite chieftain, Hassan 
 Pasha, on the ruins of Mehemet AH himself, whose death they tumul- 
 tuously demanded, but were restrained by their generous leader at 
 this critical moment. The Pasha, who understood not their words, 
 was alarmed at their manner, and trembling at the storm he had 
 raised, was too glad to divert their ferocity into a distant channel, 
 by issuing an order to slay the remaining Memlooks, and to permit 
 the pillage of their magnificent palaces. 
 
 In the morning, as on all occasions of public rejoicing, the
 
 THEIR EXTERMINATION. 189 
 
 streets had been crowded with the populace, eager to behold the 
 procession. After long suspense it came not ; and when at length 
 a few grooms rushed, mute with horror, from the vicinity of the 
 bloody scene, consternation began to seize upon the multitude. 
 Some one exclaimed that Shahin Bey was killed ; all dispersed 
 in terror, the shops were closed, the streets deserted, and every one 
 retired to the recesses of his ovm. dwelling to await the issue. 
 Each trembled for himself, for when the spirit of licence and of 
 blood is abroad uncurbed, private animosity, or the mere thirst of 
 plunder, confound with impunity the innocent and the guilty. 
 And thus it proved ; for besides the sacking of the splendid houses 
 of the Beys, and the commission of horrible outrages, many, on the 
 plea of their being friends of the proscribed, were involved in the 
 same fate. The city wore on a sudden the aspect of a place taken 
 by storm and given up to pillage. 
 
 When time had at length been given to allay the excitement of 
 blood, and to reward the savage agents with unrestrained plunder, to 
 check a further continuance of these disorders, the Pasha on the 
 second day descended from the citadel Summary measures were 
 now taken with those who persisted in keeping up the pillage, and 
 by degrees the tranquillity of the city was restored. 
 
 Orders in the meantime had been sent into the provinces to 
 an'est and put to death the numerous IMemlooks scattered about 
 the country ; the heads of many were sent to Cairo, and exposed 
 upon the Bab Zowayleh. The most relentless measures were taken, 
 lest "the snake should have been but scotched, not killed;" no- 
 thing less than the total extermination of the body became a 
 matter of political necessity. StiU about one thousand of them 
 fled into Nubia, closely pursued by Ibrahim Pasha and his troops, 
 who came up with them at dusk. Despair suggested the desperate 
 expedient of swimming the Nile on horseback in the dead of night, 
 at the risk of perishing, with their ^dves and children before them ; 
 they escaped to a man, and gaining at full speed the distant 
 Desert, evaded all pursuit, and effected a retreat into Dongola, but 
 have never since made head again against their ruthless extermi-
 
 190 CAIRO BY NIGHT. 
 
 nator. Between four and five hundred are supposed to have 
 perished in the citadel and city, and upwards of one thousand in 
 
 ;, all Egypt, in the course of this sweeping massacre. 
 
 ■» "One only, Emin Bey, succeeded in effecting his escape from the 
 citadel. He had remarked on his way that a heap of rubbish had ac- 
 cumulated on the outside of the wall ; this he recollected, forced 
 his horse to the perilous leap, and escaped unhurt. Some say that 
 the horse was killed ; at any rate the Bey got out of the city, and 
 lay concealed till he found means to escape to Constantinople. 
 
 The narrow passage, partly cut through the rock, in which this 
 tragedy principally occurred, opens by a noble and very picturesque 
 gateway into the Room-aylee, an open square full of bustle and 
 noise ; this great square, above which towers the Mosque of 
 Sultan Hassan, is the gathering-place of public processions. 
 Leaving it on the way to the Frank quarter, we dive again into the 
 long and devious lanes and bazaars ; and beautiful it is at sunset to 
 watch the red light dying off the numerous mosques and minarets 
 as we advance through the gTOwing silence of the streets. As night 
 comes on the scene becomes very singular : the streets are forsaken, 
 the gates which divide the different quarters from one another 
 are closed, and but a few passengers are seen flitting to and fro like 
 spectres, provided with loose paper lanterns, alike needful as a 
 guide in the dusky naiTow alleys, and as a security against being 
 apprehended by the guard. In nooks and comers of the ruinous 
 buildings, some of the poorer classes lay rolled up in company with 
 the peripatetic dogs of the quarter. The solemn chant of the muez- 
 zin, the zughareet, or thrilling cry of the women on occasions of 
 mourning and festivity, break the deep stillness of the city from 
 time to time ; or the dark street is suddenly illuminated by the 
 blazing torches of a marriage procession with its strange veiled 
 figures, flashing against the deep carved gateways and overhanging 
 cornices. The city, so to speak, goes soberly to bed at sunset, to 
 awake ere earliest dawn ; with the first glow of light on the topmost 
 minarets, the birds are darting to and fro among the palm-groves 
 and about the roofs, and the whole tide of the population, aU bril-
 
 THE "GISR" or dyke. 191 
 
 liant and glittering in the morning beams, begins to flow a^-ain 
 through the streets. 
 
 The moonlight nights were glorious, and before I made over the 
 old tent in which I had dwelt for so many weeks in the Desert to my 
 faithful follower Komeh, I remembered a little oasis near the Great 
 Pyramid, where I had a strange fancy to pitch it for the last 
 time. 
 
 The necessary preparations made, we set out in the afternoon for 
 the ferry at Ghizeh, somewhat early, as at this season of inundation 
 the distance from the latter place to the pyramids is increased from 
 about five to nearer twenty miles. In about half-an-hour we 
 reached the Nile at Old Cairo. The broad river, reflectino- the 
 calm glowing sky, came down in its majestic flow, animated by the 
 constant flitting about of the large white bird-like sails of the 
 numerous boats. The angle of the island of Rhoda with the 
 Nilometer, here divides it into two branches, and the scattered 
 palm-groves of Ghizeh paint their tall stems and graceful fans 
 against the warm transparent sky, opening, as it were, to afford 
 an unequalled view across the rich green level extending to the 
 Libyan Desert and to the pyramids seated in serene grandeur on 
 its risino; edsfe. After much scuffling and hao-o-lino; among the boat- 
 men for the prize of an extra piastre, we fell into the hands of one 
 of them, rapidly gained the opposite shore, and marshalling in 
 order, took our course along the raised bank of the river, it being 
 necessary at this season, when the inundation had but partially 
 subsided, to follow a circuitous course along the " Gisr" or Dyke, 
 which, as in Holland, affords the only communication from one village 
 to another. Sometimes we turned our backs altogether upon the pyra- 
 mids, the object of our journey, and after long turnings and windings, 
 they appeared as far or further off than ever. Eager to make more 
 rapid progress, we listened to the delusive representations of one of 
 our boys, who engaged us to descend into the watery level in a 
 bye- path, which after many adventures in the mire, occasioned us 
 only loss of time. The soil of Egypt is either mud or dust, and
 
 192 INUNDATED VALLEY. 
 
 sometimes the two together, as in this instance ; much there was, 
 however, both amusing and characteristic, in the scenes opened up to 
 us by our devious course. The sower was busy in the half-dried mud, 
 in other places, the earth, after the rich annual deposit of new soil, 
 glowed in the freshest and most vivid green imaginablej while 
 yet the inhabitants of the villages, (which are situated on rising 
 ground above the general level,) bared to the knees, were making 
 their painful way with long trains of buffalos and other animals 
 through the miry pathways, or paddling in rude rafts to gain their 
 isolated habitations. Clouds of birds darting about, were hovering 
 over the half-watery expanse, or settling on the palm-groves ; and the 
 acacia avenues were vocal with thousands of invisible songsters which 
 love to haunt their close and fragrant foliage. At different bridges 
 over the dyke fishermen had established themselves, to take advan- 
 tage of the current for fixing their nets ; the dyke itself, with the 
 passage of flocks of horsemen and pedestrians, presented a mov- 
 ing picture, the whole possessing a charm not only from its singu- 
 larity, but also from association ; beholding as we do with so little 
 variation, the unique, unchanging phenomena of the ever-renewing 
 fertility of the granary of the ancient world. Meanwhile as we 
 continued to advance hour after hour, directing our com'se from one 
 village and its groves of palms to another, the pyramids seemed to have 
 gained but little in dimensions, the sun went down into the haze of 
 the Desert, touching their summits with a ruddy glow, and they 
 thou stood half-dusky and confounded with the sandy background. 
 As we reached at length the extremity of the inundated land, dark- 
 ness gathered over the valley, and it then appeared that the donkey 
 bearing the tent had not been able to keep up with the rest, and 
 that I must either wait for its arrival or proceed alone. I preferred 
 the latter ; and, leaving Komeh behind, pushed forward toward the 
 place where I had determined to halt for the night. 
 
 Deep sand succeeded to the soil of the valley ; the way lay along 
 the edge of the Desert hills, a ridge of ^\■hich was between our path 
 and the pyramids. The moon rose in the east, and cast a tremulous 
 uncertain light over the inundated expanse ; a few tapers appeared
 
 PYRAMIDS BY MOONLIGHT. 193 
 
 afar in the villages, but no sound reached us — even our own foot- 
 steps were noiseless in the yielding surface. We strained our eyes 
 through the dark, iDut could see nothing of Komeh — and shouted, 
 but no voice answered. This solitary neighbourhood, whence the 
 Arab, after pouncing on his prey, may so easily regain the shelter of 
 the wilderness, bears a bad character ; . many a murder has been 
 committed here ; but the sight which burst upon me in turning the 
 angle of the projecting corner of the hills, was such as to absorb all 
 feeling of personal apprehension in an overpowering sense of the 
 sublime. The pyramids were close upon us, like enormous spectres 
 rising in tJie deep, dark, fathomless sky, faintly illumined by the as- 
 cending moon, and the yellow Desert received her oblique rays, and 
 trembled in the growing radiance. I looked round for my halting- 
 place, a dark patch in a hollow among the whitening sands at some dis- 
 tance, revealed the well-remembered palm-trees, and I advanced to- 
 wards them. I was now seriously uneasy about Komeh : had he missed 
 the way ? or, perhaps, fallen into the hands of some prowling Arab ? 
 The boy was dispatched to the summit of the old causeway used to 
 convey the stones to the pyramids, from whence he could not fail to 
 see any figure advancing across the sands : on gaining this vantage- 
 ground he shouted repeatedly, but no one answered. At length I 
 lost sight of him also, and was left entirely alone ; the donkey was 
 tied to one of the palm-trees, and I sat down by the side of the 
 well beneath in a state of no little perplexity. 
 
 I sat long and listened, and watched the edge of the sand where 
 it merged into the dusky valley, for the forms of the attendants, 
 but in vain. Save in the interior of the monument itself, no silence 
 was ever more profound than that which reigned at its base. The 
 light, increasing apace, now illuminated the whole expanse of vision, 
 •everything retained a faint tinge of the colour of day, beneath the 
 more spiritual light of the nocturnal luminary, the fans of the so- 
 litary palm-trees waved gently and fitfully as the breeze swept 
 past, their leaves glittered in the rays, and in the deep stillness the 
 sound of a ripe date falling from the glowing clusters upon the earth 
 mig-ht be distinctly heard. The moon now peered into the mounds 
 
 2
 
 194? THE SPHYNX. 
 
 and heaps of the sandy wilderness, and disclosed the mouths of the 
 funereal pits and rock-hewn tombs, which yawn around the foot of 
 the pyramids, and the broken steps and fissures of the mighty piles 
 themselves till they blended mysteriously with the stars. It was a 
 night not made for sleep. A sense of the hoary antiquity of these 
 structures, and of the mystery that hangs over them, the field of 
 death above which they towered in pale unearthly splendour, affected 
 me as I had never been elsewhere in Egypt, and I thanked the for- 
 tunate accident that had enabled me to witness undisturbed a 
 scene of such wondrous solemnity. I rose at length and began to 
 climb among the sand-hills, coniing suddenly upon the vast 
 and shapeless form of the lonely Sphynx, seated in spectral pale- 
 ness, at the base of the pyramids, and whitening in the moon-beams, 
 an apparition almost awful. And now at length the confused 
 sound of voices reached me, and ascending a mound I saw the boy 
 running across towards the trees ; I hastened down to meet him, 
 and ascertained that Komeh, having missed his way, had pro- 
 ceeded to the place where travellers are accustomed to stop, at the 
 foot of a range of tombs immediately beneath the Great Pyramid. 
 Here a fire having been kindled among much tumult and confusion, 
 he was busily engaged in putting up the tent, the neighbouring 
 Arabs as usual intruding their unwelcome seuvices, seeking to 
 establish some claim to " backshish," and possibly enough for an 
 opportunity of purloining some stray article. By the agency of the 
 sheik we contrived at length to rid ourselves of these noisy and im- 
 portunate claimants, or at least to banish them to a distance from 
 our tent, and appointed a brace of them to assist us in ascending 
 the pyramid before sunrise on the following morning. 
 
 The Fellahs failed not to come at the time appointed, some girls 
 provided with water-bottles followed ; we wanted to drive them away, 
 but in the end found their ministrations very desirable. We scram- 
 bled up to the base of the Great Pyramid, which stands, as before ob- 
 served, on the edge of the Desert, resting on a bold ledge of rock a 
 hundred feet above the level of tho valley of the Nil6. After all, it 
 is not till one stands at the very foot of this mountain of stone, that
 
 ASCENT OF THE PYRAMIDS. 195 
 
 the full impression of its colossal magnitude can be realized ; and a 
 nervous person is a little disposed to flincb from his resolution as he 
 looks up to its countless layers of masonry, which tower in sharp 
 perspective till hardly distinguishable at the apex. He can hardly 
 reach to the top of the first layer ; and without the assistance of the 
 Arabs, it requires some resolution to begin the clamber. These fellows, 
 however, to the manner bom, are infinitely dexterous and encourag- 
 ing ; your foot on the knee of one, and your hand pulled up by the 
 other, you spring on the first tier, and soon find yourself rapidly 
 surmounting the apparently endless succession of steps. The 
 north-east angle is the spot selected as the easiest : here the action 
 of time and tempest has somewhat abraded the stone-work, and 
 produced holes and cracks, of which you take advantage to plant 
 the foot ; the guides know every one of these ; and in the more 
 difficult places, springing up above you, haul you up to their own 
 level. Notwithstanding, as you proceed, and gain a position from 
 which the height above and the height below are at once visible 
 you are seized with a somewhat uncomfortable giddiness, which 
 mio;ht be danojerous to an unassisted adventurer if at all nervous? 
 although the ledges are sufficiently broad to assure entire safety. 
 It is a singular feeling with which you look down from this 
 height of solid stone upon the ocean of sand below, which the in- 
 cessant action of the winds of ages has piled up against its base 
 and dashed against its sides, from which it falls back like the spray 
 of the waves from some lofty clifi". Your ideas and sensations seem 
 to expand as you advance, to something commensurate with the subli- 
 mity and vastness and strangeness of the scene ; and hackneyed as 
 the feat may be, no one, unless bent on assuming the nil admirari 
 which some modem travellers afiect, ever stood without a feeling of 
 inward elevation on the small area which crowns this most stupen- 
 dous of the works of man's hand. As I sat down on the edge of the 
 platform, and looked down its giant sides, not a sound was to be 
 heard but that of the throbbing pulsation of the brain. Compara- 
 tively cool as it was, a draught of water was never more acceptable 
 than after the violent exertion of the ascent. The dawn was reflected
 
 196 THE LIBYAN DESERT. 
 
 in the half-inundated valley with singular eflfect ; the isolated 
 villages among their groves of palm, began to give signs of life ; 
 and as the sun rose, its beams glittered in the watery expanse, upon 
 the minarets of Cairo, and the craggy heights of its citadel. But 
 the most striking object in the range of prospect was the neighbour- 
 ing pyi'amid, casting an immense shadow over half the boundless 
 Libyan Desert^ in which whole armies have perished, — far out- 
 stretched to the west, arid and blanched, its shifting suiface tossed 
 like the sea into long swells and crested ridges of sand, and like 
 that unstable element, slumbering in its might, to awake under the 
 power of the winds into tempestuous and terrible action. The broad 
 valley, with its verdant and immemorial fertility thus renewed 
 before our eyes by the inundation, comes up to the borders of this 
 wilderness, which advances not beyond the ancient bounds of its 
 desolate empire ; and no contrast was ever more striking than that 
 thus afforded by the green level, and its smiling fields and benig- 
 nant waters, with the great desert through which the Nile flows 
 for more than three thousand miles. 
 
 Along the sandy skirt of the desert, and but just elevated above 
 the rich valley of the Nile, extending to the soutliward at intervals 
 of miles apart, are the pyramids of Sakhara and Dashoor, like 
 ghosts of the past brooding over the site of vanished Memphis. 
 Looking at the glorious wrecks which Thebes has left behind after 
 successive visitations, it is matter of astonishment that this no less 
 celebrated capital of Lower Egypt should have utterly perished, 
 leaving no vestige of its past greatness, and scarcely anything to mark 
 where it once stood, but these gigantic pyramids, and the cemeteries 
 and mummy-j)its around them which tell of the labour of myriads, 
 some confused mounds, and the beautiful statue of Rameses the 
 Second, broken and prostrate, (of the head of Avhich there is a 
 cast in the Eritish Museum.) The very site has been vehemently 
 disputed, some placing it on the plains of Ghizeh beneath the Great 
 Pyramid, while Mitrahenny, some miles further south, is now gene- 
 rally admitted to be the centre of the city, though its suburbs 
 probably extended to Ghizeh. About twelve miles above, Herodotus
 
 OBJECT or THE PYRAMIDS. 19? 
 
 says that the Nile was diverted by Menes from its old course 
 under the rocky edge of the Desert, into its present channel. This 
 complete obliteration of Memphis is the more remarkable, as it ap- 
 pears to have survived as a city to a later period than Thebes. It 
 has been swept from the rich plain here lying outspread before us, 
 and its materials have served to build the Arab cities of Fostat 
 and Cairo, on the other side of the Nile. 
 
 The sages of the old world, Pythagoras, and Plato, and Herodotus, 
 have gazed with wonder on the pyramids, as the nameless traveller 
 of modem times, and speculated as to their origin and purport. The 
 hieroglyphic discoveries of Colonel Vyse have attested the names of 
 their founders as recorded by Herodotus and Manetho ; but still 
 obscurity hangs over their entire object, though there can be little 
 doubt that they were devoted to sepulchral uses. According to 
 Herodotus, 100,000 men toiled at their construction for more 
 than twenty years. His statements are received with caution by 
 modern travellers ; and his affirmation, that a canal Avas cut from 
 the Nile to introduce water under the Great Pyramid, is rejected by 
 Wilkinson, as contrary both to probability and the physical pheno- 
 mena of the region. The Great Pyramid was built by Cheops, 
 Chofo, or Suphis, a king of Memphis. 
 
 Of its enormous size, a familiar illustration has been given, by 
 stating that its base occupies an area about equal to that of Lin- 
 coln's-inn Fields. It has been calculated that it originally occupied 
 an area equal to 588,939 "'595 superficial feet, or almost 13]- Eng- 
 lish acres, the side of the square being 767*424 feet, the original 
 perpendicular height of the structure was 479 feet, and the total 
 contents of solid masonry equal to 85,000,000 cubic feet, some 
 say 89,418,806. The present perpendicular height is 450-9. 
 There is some slight variation in the different measurements, 
 but these are cited merely to give some idea of the immensity 
 of the pile. The greater part of the stone was quarried from the 
 neighbourhood, but the finer description brought from Toura, on 
 the opposite side of the river. The external surface was formerly 
 quite smooth, the space between the layers of masonry being filled
 
 198 DATE OF THEIR CONSTRUCTION. 
 
 up. It must not be supposed that the construction of the pyramids is 
 at all rude, for nothing is more strikingly indicative of the highest 
 constructive skill, than the beauty of the casing throughout the 
 structure, the joints of the stones being hardly perceptible. The size 
 of some of the blocks of the external layers is not less than twenty- 
 seven feet long by nine high. These details will serve to bring 
 home to the reader's imagination the astonishing character of the 
 work. Herodotus states that it was reared by the labour of an 
 oppressed people ; and some have even supposed that the Israelites 
 may have toiled at its construction, imder their cruel Egyptian 
 taskmasters ; * but the more cautious antiquaries renounce this idea. 
 The df.te of the erection is somewhat conjectural, depending altoge- 
 ther on a correct settling of the chronology of the succession of 
 Egyptian monarchy, which is yet undecided. Wilkinson supposes 
 it may be 2120 b. c. 
 
 The Pyramids stand, as it were, on that remote point in the 
 records of the world, behind which the origin and early progress of 
 our race recede into mysterious darkness. The first rays of histori- 
 cal light, rising from the night of time, beam faintly upon their 
 hoary summits, and looking back, we seek in vain to trace the 
 long and gradual developement of that civilization which must have 
 reached so high a degree ere monuments so wonderful could have 
 been reared. Time, who has been finely figured as reclining " demi- 
 somnous "' on a pyramid, has forgotten his early course, and the 
 entire records of the world, obscure and doubtful as they are, date 
 from a period subsequent to the days of Cheops. If the scholar 
 who strives by long poring over the written monuments of ancient 
 Egypt to pierce into the secrets of early time, should ever be suc- 
 cessful, it will probably be from an investigation of the pyramids and 
 the surrounding tombs, which may contain data that wiU enable him 
 to trace the doubtful path of history a few paces backward into the 
 still receding gloom. 
 
 Of the second pyramid, the height is not much inferior to that of 
 Cheops, but the base is not so large, and it is every way inferior to 
 * Lord Lindsay.
 
 DESCENT. 199 
 
 this, which towers sublime in size and style, above its numerous 
 fellows of Ghizeh, Sakhara, and Dashoor. The ascent to the summit 
 of the second pyramid is a dangerous feat, from the circumstance 
 of a part of the external casing being yet perfect, and from its risino- 
 to an apex. The interior is less remarkable than that of the first ; 
 the principal chamber contains some Arabic inscriptions which 
 prove that this, like the Great Pyramid, was opened in the time of 
 the Caliphs, though it is supposed that this was not the first time 
 they had been entered, in spite of the precaution of the builders. 
 The third pyramid, opened by Colonel Vyse, is that of Mycerinus, 
 its founder, whose mummy case, ^nth the hieroglyphic name, is in 
 the British Museum, as well as a body, which, as supposed by some, 
 belonged to it, though this question is warmly debated. It would 
 be curious if its claims to identity could be established. Of Cheops, 
 at least, as Byron says, " not a pinch of dust remains.'' 
 
 But it was time to descend from this aerial platform. The plea- 
 sure of having gratified a long-cherished wish, of having vanquished 
 an obstacle, the sublimity of the scene around, and, perhaps, the 
 finer air one breathes at this elevation above the marshy valley, 
 contributed to produce a feeling of exhilaration almost dan- 
 gerous — I despised the assistance of the Arabs, and began the 
 descent by leaping from block to block in a manner perfectly reckless. 
 Rapidly however as I dashed down, the Arabs contrived to precede 
 me ; but I rejected their proffered hands, and with a moment's halt 
 to gather breath, resumed my headlong course towards the base. The 
 steps are amply broad enough for security, provided you do not topple 
 over ; for nothing can then save you from the miserable fate of the poor 
 Indian officer, who went bounding fi-om top to bottom like a ball till 
 the life was beaten out of him. But one rarely hears of an acci- 
 dent. The Arabs are equal to anything, neither are they particu- 
 larly nice. The most unwieldy subjects, male and female, are, by 
 their exertions, worked up fore and aftwise as if by a windlass. 
 
 I now directed my course along the layer of stones that leads to 
 the entrance, which is about forty feet from the ground. Leaving 
 part of my clothing with Komeh, who, without ceremony, dashed into
 
 200 
 
 INTERIOR. 
 
 the midst of the Fellahs with his stick and routed them, and having 
 been in repeatedly, preferred remaining outside to prevent others than 
 my two guides from entering, I crouched down at the entrance of the 
 low passage, four feet liigh, and began the sloping descent into the 
 
 -I^!*- 
 
 bowels of the monument. Holes have been made to assist the foot- 
 ing, l>ut they have become so polished by the feet of visitors and 
 Arabs that they rather cause one to slip ; the dust, moreover, raised 
 by yourself and attendants, fills the narrow passage, and with the 
 closeness of the place and the heat of the candles, produces a very un- 
 comfortable and stifling sensation. This first passage continues on 
 a slope, down to a subterranean room ; but when you have traced 
 it for about 106 feet, you perceive the end of a block of granite which 
 closes it ; an upper passage ascends from this point at an angle of 27°, 
 which being once concealed, those who forced the way were com- 
 pelled to turn it, and climb by a few steps into the second 
 passage, by which you ascend to the entrance of the great gallery. 
 From hence a horizontal passage leads into what is called the 
 Queen's Chamber, which is small and roofed by long blocks, resting 
 against each other, and forming an angle : its height to this point 
 is about twenty feet. There is a niche in the east end, where the 
 Arabs have broken the stones in search for treasure ; and Sir. G. 
 Wilkinson thinks that " if the pit where the king's body was depo- 
 sited does exist in any of these rooms, it should be looked for beneath
 
 INTERIOR. 201 
 
 this niche." He remarks, besides, that this chamber stands under the 
 apex of the pyramid. At the base of the great gallery, to which we now 
 return, is the mouth of the well which we shall presently notice. The 
 long ascending slope of the great gallery, terminating in darkness, six 
 feet wide, is formed by successive courses of masonry overlaying each 
 other, and thus narrowing the passage towards the top — the dim 
 light of the candles is faintly reflected back from the polished walls ; 
 and if you pause a moment, the oppressive silence in the heart of this 
 mysterious monument inspires the deepest awe, not devoid of vague, 
 sinister fancies, groundless as they may be, lest any accident should 
 block one up for ever in the hollow of the gloomy mausoleum. 
 
 Advancing 158 feet up this impressive avenue, we come to a hori- 
 zontal passage, where four granite portcullises, descending through 
 grooves, once opposed additional obstacles to the rash curiosity or 
 avarice which might tempt any to invade the eternal silence of the 
 sepulchral chamber, which they besides concealed ; but the cunning 
 of the spoiler has been there of old, the device was vain, and you 
 are now enabled to enter this, the principal apartment in the pyra- 
 mid, and called the King's Chamber, entirely constructed of red 
 granite, as is also the sarcophagus, the lid and contents of which 
 had been removed. This is entirely plain, and without hieroglyphics, 
 the more singular, as it seems to be ascertained that they were then in 
 use. The sarcophagus rests upon an enormous granite block, 
 which may, as suggested by Mrs. Poole, in her minute account of 
 the interior, have been placed to mark the entrance to a deep vault 
 or pit beneath. Indeed the mysteries of this vast sepulchre, with 
 all the persevering research that has been made, are far from being 
 solved. It has been calculated, that 8,700 chambers might be 
 hidden within the stupendous mass. Before we left this room," says 
 Mr. St. John, " we fired a small pistol, the sound of which seemed 
 louder than that of a cannon, almost rent the drum of the ear, and 
 went on rolling through the pyramid, as if multiplied by a thousand 
 echoes. The interior of these structures doubtless contains 
 innumerable undiscovered passages and chambers ; and, as I listened 
 to the sound, it seemed to sink or mount from cavity to cavity, to 
 
 2 D
 
 202 TOMBS ROUND THE PYRAMID. 
 
 rebound repeatedly from obstructing walls, to divide, to be multi- 
 plied, and at length to die away in distant vaults. If this was fancy, 
 it produced at the time all the effect of reality ; and I am not sorry 
 to find that this idea has occurred to others, and that subsequently 
 researches have proved its correctness." There are some small holes 
 in the walls of the chamber, the purpose of which was for venti- 
 lation, as at length discovered by Colonel Howard Vyse. 
 
 Above the King's Chamber, and only to be reached by a narrow 
 
 passage, ascending at the south-east corner of the great gallery, 
 
 having notches in which pieces of wood were formerly inserted, and 
 
 from the top of that along another passage, is the small chamber 
 
 discovered by Mr. Davison; its height is only three feet six inches ; 
 
 above it are four other similar niches, discovered by Colonel Howard 
 
 Vyse, the topmost of which is angular. Wilkinson supposes that 
 
 the sole purpose of these chambers is to relieve the pres- 
 
 '^^a\ sure on the King's Chamber, and here was discovered the 
 
 c.-J' cartouche, containing the name of the founder, Suphis, 
 
 I yf J identical with that upon the tablets in Wady Maghara 
 
 already described. 
 
 Such is the sum of what has been already discovered in the Great 
 
 Pyramid, with the exception of what, before alluded to, is called the 
 
 well— an angular passage, Hke a chimney, sometimes perpendicular, 
 
 and elsewhere sloping, which descends deep into the heart of the 
 
 rock, which formed the nucleus round which the pyramid was 
 
 reared. Few travellers explore its recesses. ^Ir. Davison, who 
 
 was the first to describe it, had great difficulty to get any of his 
 
 Arabs to assist, from their superstitious terrors : — there were spirits 
 
 below, they averred, from which he would never escape, and that a 
 
 Frank who had ventured half down, had the cord snatched from 
 
 his hand by some demon ; and when at length he prevailed on one 
 
 of them to come down after him, he was in such a state of agitation 
 
 he did not know what he was doing ; when he reached the bottom, 
 
 he was more like a spectre than a man : pale and trembling, he cast 
 
 fiirtive glances on every side. His hair, if he had had any, would 
 
 have stood upright on his head. He, Mr. Davison, descended lower
 
 DESCENT OF THE WELL. 203 
 
 and lower into the bowels of the earth, putting his feet into the 
 niches that had been made on either side, without perceiving any 
 signs of a termination to this horrible place. At length he reached 
 the bottom. " I had here only two things to fear : first, that the bats 
 should fly against my candle and extinguish it ; and, second, that the 
 great stone, of which I have spoken, at the entrance of the great well, 
 and upon which the Arab was obliged to lean his whole weight, should 
 fall forward and shut me down where I was, for ever." As he 
 ascended the candle fell and left them in darkness, " upon which 
 the poor Arab gave himself up for lost. He seized the rope when 
 I attempted to ascend, and protested that he would rather I should 
 blow his brains out than be left do^vn in company with the efreets. 
 I accordingly allowed him to mount first, for which he seemed very 
 grateful. Although it is more difficult to ascend than to descend, 
 I don't know how it was, but he got up a hundred times quicker 
 than he came down." 
 
 The meaning of this long passage, however, was not made out 
 till M. Caviglia accidentally discovered that it communicated with a 
 laro;e unfinished chamber excavated in the live rock, below the base 
 of the pyramid, to which the passage by which the structure is 
 entered forms a direct descent of o06 feet. From this room the 
 passage is still carried on a short distance, and abruptly terminates. 
 Colonel Howard Vyse excavated still lower, in search of the canal 
 fed by a channel from the Nile, spoken of by Herodotus as sur- 
 rounding the tomb of the founder, but without discovering anything. 
 Who knows whether after all there may not be some ground for 
 the assertion of the historian, and whether some fortunate discoverer 
 may not yet verify his extraordinary statements ? 
 
 On emerging from the pyramid the sun was getting high, and 
 glaring fiercely upon the dreary waste of sand. As I paced slowly 
 round the base, some light clouds flitting through the bright heavens, 
 trailed their passing shadows over the enormous weatherbeaten pile, 
 as over the face of a hoary sterile mountain. It was glorious indeed; 
 but the sense of the sublime produced by so unparalleled a result of 
 human labour was dashed by the reflection, involuntarily excited, of
 
 204 THE SPHYNX. 
 
 the long-continued toil rec^uired to rear it,— by the sad, the humbling 
 idea, which stood palpably embodied before me, that so large a 
 portion of mankind have ever been the passive slaves of despotism : 
 and I rejoiced to think that my lot was cast in days when liberty 
 and utility are likely to become more and more the conditions and 
 the reward of human labour. I passed quite round the pyramid, 
 among the tombs wliich yawn around, open or half-buried by the sand 
 of the surrounding Desert. Of these many contain curious records 
 of that early day — as the names of ancient kings, Cheops, or Suphis, 
 among: the rest. And here, ao;ain, we have the same cartouche as at 
 Wady Maghara. One of these tombs in particular has an inventory of 
 ^'-^ the wealth of its owner — " 835 oxen, 220 cows, with their 
 l^fht J^^^oy 2,234 he-goats, 760 asses, and 974 rams." Further 
 researches have with great reason been made among these 
 ancient tombs, by Dr. Lepsius, which will probably throw 
 light upon that remote period. A very interesting tomb 
 is that discovered by Colonel Vyse, and called after the Consul- 
 general, Campbell's Tomb, which contains a very early specimen 
 of the arch, of the time of Psamaticus II., 600 B.C., which 
 together with one at Sakhara, of the same period, are the oldest 
 known specimens, though Wilkinson supposes that the ancient 
 Egyptians were acquainted with it long before. 
 
 At a short distance, cut out of the rocky ledge on which tower 
 the stupendous pyramids, half-buried among the heaving sand- 
 heaps, is the vast mutilated image of the Sphynx, regarded for- 
 merly, it is supposed by some, as the tutelary god of the neigh- 
 bourhood. The features are so defaced, and indeed half obliterated, 
 that much controversy has arisen as to their true character and 
 expression, Denon supposing the face to be intended for that of a 
 Negro, which, in some respects it somewhat seems to resemble, 
 particularly when seen in profile. On more careful examination, it 
 would appear to be moulded on the same type as other Egyptian 
 colossi, having the same massive square outline and features, full eye, 
 heavy lips. Notwithstanding the almost entire destruction of the 
 features, when in strong relief imder certain lights, the face pre-
 
 THE SPHTNX. 205 
 
 ijents a character of serene benevolent repose, and then appears to be 
 
 " Not that fierce sphynx that Thebes erewhile laid waste, 
 But great Latona's servant, mild and bland," 
 
 as it is designated by an ex-voto inscription, translated by Dr. 
 Young. The cap which formerly adorned the head is gone, but a 
 portion of the ornament hangs on each side of the face. It was 
 formerly buried to the neck ; but its fuU size and signification were 
 first ascertained by the labours of M. Caviglia, at the expense of 
 Colonel Vyse. When after Sisyphus-like toil, (the loose surface 
 from above repeatedly sliding into the excavation,) the sand was at 
 length removed, it presented a colossal sphynx, with an altar be- 
 tween the projecting paws, fifty feet in advance ; and a sanctuary, 
 composed of three tablets, one attached to the breast, with a lion in 
 a couchant posture, looking towards the image ; the fig-ure of 
 Thotmes IV., performing sacrifices to a small representation of the 
 colossus.* On the side-walls were also similar representations of 
 Rameses the Great. Steps formerly led down into the area, which 
 is BOW half-fiUed again with the sand, so that but a portion of one 
 of the above-mentioned tablets, with a winged globe, is seen above 
 the surface — the imagination must supply the rest of this stupen- 
 dous and unique monument. 
 
 I returned to my tent at noon, more than ever impressed with 
 the pyramids and the surroimding region. Perhaps this might in 
 some measure be attributed to the favourable circumstances under 
 which I visited them. Travellers are often so annoyed by tlie 
 clamorous presence of the Arabs, that they cannot fully realize the 
 grandeur of the scene. There is much in cultivating first impressions, 
 in viewing objects of interest, — especially after they have become 
 common sights, — when they assume the finest aspect ; and so should 
 the pyramids be seen, even at some little expense of time and ma- 
 nagement. I am induced to make this remark, as it has been of 
 late a fasliion with travellers to speak lightly of a visit to them 
 as a hackneyed afiiiir, and attended with so many vexatious tri- 
 vialities, that it is rather ridiculous than sublime. 
 
 * Wilkinson.
 
 206 CONCLUSION 
 
 These sketches are now brought to a termination. The author 
 need hardly say that his object has been to present pictures, and to 
 give distinct impressions, of localities, rather than to enter into 
 speculations either theological or political, which such scenes are 
 calculated to awaken. Even in his humble walk he cannot flatter 
 himself that he shall be successful ; yet he hopes that any attempt 
 to add to the sum of previous acquisitions will be viewed with indul- 
 gence by those who take an interest in the subjects of his narrative. 
 
 TUK END. 
 
 .(. Kickciby, f'rintcr, Sherbourn Lane, King Williani Street, City.
 
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 JEREMY TAYLOR'S LIBERTY OF PROPHESYING; showing the 
 
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