Chapter L: Appendix: B. (P. 303 and 318.)—The tradition of Gebel Mûsa being the Mount

of the Law, became gradually more decided and exclusive for this view after the time of Procopius in the sixth century; mainly, no doubt, on account of the church founded at that spot in the reign of Justinian. I am not aware that there are any modern travellers and savants who have thrown doubts on the correctness of this assumption. Not even Burckhardt, although from the numerous inscriptions on Serbâl he was led to infer that that mountain might have been at one time _incorrectly_ regarded by the pilgrims as Sinai. The words of this distinguished traveller are as follows: (Trav. in Syr. p. 609.) “It will be recollected that _no inscriptions_ are found either _on the Mountain of Moses, or on Mount St. Catherine_; and that those which are found in the Ledja valley at the foot of Djebel Catherine, are not to be traced above the rock from which the water is said to have issued, and appear only to be the work of pilgrims who visited that rock. From these circumstances _I am persuaded that Mount Serbâl was at one period the chief place of pilgrimage in the Peninsula; and that it was then considered the mountain where Moses received the tables of the law; though I am equally convinced, from a perusal of the Scriptures, that the Israelites encamped in the Upper Sinai_, and that either Djebel Mousa, or Mount St. Catherine, is the real Horeb. It is not at all impossible that the proximity of Serbâl to Egypt, may at one period have caused that mountain to be the Horeb of the pilgrims, and that the establishment _of the convent_ in its present situation, _which was probably chosen from motives of security, may have led to the transferring of that honour to Djebel Mousa_. At present neither the monks of Mount Sinai nor those of Cairo consider Mount Serbâl as the scene of any of the events of sacred history; nor have the Bedouins any tradition among them respecting it, but it is possible, that if the Byzantine writers were thoroughly examined, some mention might be found of this mountain, which I believe was never before visited by any European traveller.”

More recently the remarkable book of travels by E. ROBINSON form a marked epoch in our knowledge of the Peninsula as well as of Palestine. With reference to the position of Sinai, he for the first time especially urges the favourable vicinity of the great plain of RÂHA, to the north of Gebel Mûsa, in which there was ample space for the encampment of the people of Israel. (Palestine, vol. i., p. 144, &c.) In his determination, however, of the actual Mount of the Law, he deviates from the previous tradition, since he endeavours to prove that Moses did not ascend Gebel Mûsa, but the mountain ridge jutting out from the south, above the plain, which is now called HOREB by the monks, and whose highest point is named Sefsâf. (Vol. i. p. 176.) Unfortunately he did not visit Wadi Firân and the adjoining Serbâl. In a more recent treatise (Bibl. sacra. vol. iv. No. xxii. May, 1849, p. 381, &c.) the learned author returns to the question with reference to my view of it, with which he had become acquainted, and in opposition he especially mentions the arguments which he had formerly maintained in favour of Gebel Sefsâf. He comprehends these under the three following heads, which he extracts from the Mosaic narrative, as being eminently striking, and which must therefore also now be pointed out: “1st. A mountain summit overlooking the place where the people stood. 2nd. Space sufficient adjacent to the mountain for so large a multitude to stand and behold the phenomena on the summit. 3rd. The relation between this space where the people stood and the base of the mountain must be such that they could approach and stand at ‘the nether part of the mount,’ that they could also touch it; and that further bounds could appropriately be set around the mount, lest they should go up into it, or touch the border of it.” Of these three heads, the first would speak against Gebel Mûsa, and not against Serbâl. This last, says Robinson, is excluded by the second and third head. Now with respect to the second, I must only call to mind that the encampment of the people at Sinai is not related in a different manner from all the previous stations. If, therefore, we take such a circumscribed view of the encampment as to believe that we must provide for sufficient _space_ for the settlement of such a great people, we should then have to indicate a plain of Râha at all the previous stations, especially in Raphidîm (which by almost unanimous opinion was situated at the foot of the Serbâl), because here manifestly they remained for a considerable time, Moses was visited by Jethro, by his advice divided the whole people into tens, and organised them according to a form of law, from which we should be compelled to conclude that there, for the first time, existed a distinct locality for each individual. He who imagines a multitude of two millions of men, about as many as the inhabitants of London, or of the whole of Egypt at the present day, placed in an enclosed camp composed of tents, of which they must have had two hundred thousand, if we reckon one for every ten, like a huge, well-arranged military camp, even to him the plain of Râha would appear too small; but he who assumes that a comparatively small number could assemble round the chief quarters of Moses, but that all the others must have sought for shady places, caves in the rock-precipices, and the scanty herbage of the adjacent valleys, can as easily imagine the camp to have been placed in Wadi Firân, or at any other station. Wadi Firân besides, as far down as El Hessue, even if we only take its most fertile portion (more inviting as a settlement than any other spot), would offer, in combination with the broad Wadi Aleyât, just as large, and at all events a far more habitable space, for a combined encampment than the plain of Râha. Indeed, if it be true that we can gain anything from such single facts, such an encampment would render it still more comprehensible why the people were led _out of the camp_ towards God at the foot of the mountain in the upper portion of Wadi Aleyât, in order to have a complete survey of the mountain. To obtain such a view would be impossible at Gebel Mûsa, and unnecessary at Gebel Sefsâf. Finally, the command not to ascend the mountain, which is expressed still more imperatively, that no one “should touch the border of the mountain,” applies to every mountain, which rises simply before the eyes, and whose means of access can be shut out by a fence. Immediately beyond the fence lies the border of the mountain.

With reference to this last point, Robinson appeals to my own map of Serbâl, and the description of Wadi Aleyât, by Bartlett (Forty Days in the Desert, p. 54, 59). It would be difficult, however, to prove from my map that the people could not have spread themselves out at the foot of the mountain, and Bartlett seems to me rather to share my opinion. As this traveller is so well known by his descriptions of countries, which are both beautifully illustrated and clearly and graphically described, and as he is just one of the few who have examined the localities with his own eyes in reference to the question started by me without holding any previous views on the subject, it may not be inappropriate to insert here those words relating to it, from a book cited by Robinson in favour of his own view; so much the rather, as I could not possibly have placed the chief heads of the question in a more convincing point of view.

He says, p. 55[412]: “If we endeavour to reconcile ourselves to the received but _questionable system_ which seeks to accommodate the miraculous with the natural, _it is impossible_, I think, _not to close with the reasoning advanced in favour of the Serbâl_. There can be no doubt that Moses was personally well acquainted with the Peninsula, and had even probably dwelt in the vicinity of Wadi Feirân during his banishment from Egypt; but even common report as to the present day, would point to this favoured locality AS THE ONLY FIT SPOT _in the whole range of the desert for the supply, either with water or such provisions as the country afforded_, of the Israelitish host: on this ground alone, then, he would be led irresistibly to fix upon it, when meditating a long sojourn for the purpose of compiling the law. This consideration derives additional force when we consider the supply of wood and other articles requisite for the construction of the tabernacles, and which can only be found readily at Wadi Feirân, and of its being also, in all probability, from early times a place visited by trading caravans. But if Moses were even unacquainted previously with the resources of the place, he must have passed it on his way from the sea-coast through the interior of the mountains, and _it is inconceivable that he should have refused to avail himself of its singular advantages for his purpose_, or that the host would have consented, without a murmur, to quit, after so much privation, this fertile and well-watered oasis for new perils in the barren desert, or that he should, humanly speaking, have been able either to compel them to do so, or afterwards to fix them in the _inhospitable, unsheltered position of the monkish Mount Sinai, with the fertile Feirân but one day’s long march in their rear_. Supplies of _wood_, and perhaps of _water, must, in that case, have been brought of necessity from the very spot they had but just abandoned_. We must suppose that the _Amalekites_ would oppose the onward march of the Israelites, _where they alone had a fertile territory_ worthy of being disputed, and from which Moses must, of necessity, have sought to expel them. If it be so, then in this vicinity, and no other, we must look for Raphidîm, from whence the Mount of God was at a very short distance. We seem thus to have a _combination of circumstances, which are met with nowhere else_, to certify that it was here that Moses halted for the great work he had in view, and that the scene of the law-giving is here before our eyes in its wild and lonely majesty. The principal objection to this is on the following ground, that there is no open space in the immediate neighbourhood of the Serbâl suitable for the _encampment_ of the vast multitude, and from which they could ALL OF THEM AT ONCE have had a view of the mountain, as is the case at the plain Er Rahah at Mount Sinai, where Robinson supposes, principally for that reason, the law to have been given. _But 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 Serbâl_. A glance at the view, and a reference to this small rough map[413], will show the reader that the main encampment of the host must have been in Wadi Feirân itself, from which the summit of the Serbâl is only here and there visible, and that it is by the lateral Wadi Aleyât that the base of the mountain itself, by a walk of about an hour, is to be reached. It certainly struck me, in passing up this valley, as a very unfit, if not impracticable spot for the encampment of any great number of people, _if they were all in tents_; though well supplied with pure water, the ground is rugged and rocky—towards the base of the mountain awfully so; but still _it is quite possible that a certain number might have established themselves there, as the Arabs do at present_, while, as on other occasions, the principal masses were distributed in the surrounding valleys. I do not know that there is any adequate ground for believing, as Robinson does, that because the people were warned not to invade the seclusion of the mount, and a guard was placed to prevent them from doing so, that THEREFORE THE ENCAMPMENT ITSELF pressed closely on its borders. Curiosity might possibly enough lead many to attempt this even from a distance, to say nothing of those already _supposed to be located_ in the Wadi Aleyât, near the base of the mountain, to whom the injunction would more especially apply. Those, however, who press closely the literal sense of one or two passages, should bear in mind all the difficulties previously cited, and the _absolute destitution of verdure, cultivation, running streams, and even of abundant springs, which characterise the fearfully barren vicinity of the monkish Sinai_, where there is indeed room and verge enough for encampment, BUT NO RESOURCES WHATEVER. If we take up the ground of a CONTINUAL AND MIRACULOUS PROVISION _for all the wants of two millions of people_, doubtless they may have been subsisted there as well as in any other place; _otherwise it seems incredible_ that _Moses_ should ever have abandoned a spot, offering such _unique advantages as Feirân_, to select instead _the most dreary and sterile spot in its neighbourhood_.”

This was the distinct impression, and one frankly offered, after comparing those localities with the Biblical narration, by a man who nevertheless finally remains doubtful whether, in spite of all the reasons cited, it would not be more advisable to follow “the other system,” in accordance with which we must assume it to be an uninterrupted miracle from the beginning to the end, even though this is not expressed in the Bible (see p. 19 of the work cited), whereby, assuredly, all considerations about the most probable _human_ course of that great historical event become worthless. The author then passes to some _individual points_, which he himself only calls attention to as such; in which he deviates from my mode of comprehension, since, for instance, he feels himself obliged to place the attack of the Amalekites somewhat farther down the valley towards El Hessue. The various possibilities in the explanation of the shorter marches oblige us always to point out again, that it is only by taking a view of the most essential points of the question, as a whole, that we can arrive at a positive conviction; this would necessarily drive those objections into the background, which might arise from regarding it only from any individual point.

Shortly after Robinson, in the year 1843, Dr. John Wilson travelled through Palestine and the Peninsula of Arabia Petræa; he published his extensive travels (_The Lands of the Bible_, 2 vols. Edinburgh, 1847), but did not by any means attain the high standing point held by his learned predecessor. Nevertheless, I cannot but accord with some of the objections which (vol. i. p. 222, &c.) he makes to Robinson’s assumption that Sefsâf is the Mount of the Law. He coincides with the tradition in recognising the Mount of the Law in Gebel Mûsa. In Serbâl, on the contrary, he believes that he recognises the Mount Paran of the Bible (p. 199), which we could only suppose, if we admit Mount Paran to be another expression for Sinai, and if we identify the last with Serbâl. At the close of the second volume (p. 764, &c.) the author adds a note in the Appendix, in which he guards himself against my different view as to the position of Sinai. He does not, however, here touch upon the most essential arguments which I have everywhere placed in the foreground, but only speaks of individual points, some of which can be easily overcome, and of others which have no influence on the chief question. He places DAPHKA, which is not once mentioned in the principal account, and therefore assuredly must have been a subordinate spot, in Wadi Firân, and Raphidîm, “the places for rest,” in the barren sandy Wadi e’ Scheikh, because there was _no_ water there. But, that I may use his own weapons, what has become of the spring of Moses? “_Few in the kingdom of Great Britain_ at least,” says the author, “will be disposed to substitute the _Wadi Feirân_, with clear running water, for _Rephidim_, where there was no water for the people to drink.” I think he wrongs his countrymen in making them deviate so universally from the almost unanimous tradition, and reject as a rationalistic explanation what is admitted even by the learned Fathers of the Church, who place Raphidîm in Firân, and consequently regard the spring there as belonging to Moses; besides, independently of H. BARTLETT, many others of his countrymen have distinctly declared themselves in favour of my view, which includes this point, among whom I may mention Mr. HOGG (see below, concerning his pamphlet about this particular point), the Rev. Dr. CROLY, and the author of the Pictorial Bible. If he is of opinion that I had overlooked the fact that the Wilderness of Sin and the Wilderness of Sinai had different meanings, I refer him to my pamphlet, p. 47, where precisely the opposite occurs; I have not either left unnoticed the words “_out_ of the Wilderness of Sin” (p. 39), which has not either been done by Eusebius nor St. Jerome, who equally make the Wilderness of Sin extend as far as the Wilderness of Sinai. The fight with Amalek, as it is related in Exodus, presupposes a universal, obstinate, and probably a prepared contest; that the principal attack of the front was immediately supported by an attack of the rear-guard is not excepted, as it is added besides in Deuteron. xxv. 18; the double attack besides appeared distinctly indicated in the words קָרְךָ בַּדֶּרֶךְ וַיְזַנֵּב ἀντέστη σοι ἐν τῇ ὁδῷ, καὶ ἔκοψέ σου τὴν οὐραγίαν. At Elim, certainly, twelve _springs_ עֵינֹת not _wells_ are mentioned; but this does not alter the case, as nevertheless we cannot imagine twelve _rushing_ springs like those in the Wadi Firân, but as the author (vol. i. p. 175) himself observes, only _standing_ water underground, which must be specially dug for—therefore, in fact, wells. Their great number alone remains worthy of consideration, from which we may conclude that it was an important place. I knew the Sheikh Abu Zelîmeh very well; but that would not prevent the existence of a connection between the name and the locality, although I do not lay the slightest weight on such accordance of names.

The author omits some other reasons, which he believes he can prove in opposition to my views; these might perhaps have referred precisely to the chief points of the whole question, which had hitherto remained uncontested. The author now perhaps feels himself obliged to repeat his arguments, with reference to the separate remarks of one of his countrymen, Mr. John Hogg, who handled the subject in a very complete manner, and worked it out still further, first in the _Gentleman’s Magazine_, March, 1847, and afterwards in the _Transact. of the R. Soc. of Literature_, 2 Ser. vol. iii. p. 183-236 (read May, 1847, Jan. 1848), under the title: _Remarks and Additional Views on Dr. Lepsius’s Proofs that Mount Serbâl is the true Mount Sinai; on the Wilderness of Sin; on the Manna of the Israelites; and on the Sinaitic Inscriptions_. This learned author combines the earliest testimonies about the tradition, and from them endeavours to prove, that before the time of Justinian it was in favour of Serbâl, and not of Gebel Mûsa. He seems, in fact, to have succeeded in proving this, but we shall return, to this question below.

Since then the comprehensive work of my respected friend CARL RITTER has appeared, which is executed with his usual mastery of the subject: _Vergleichende Erdkunde der Sinai-Halbinsel, von Palästina und Syrien, erster Band_, Berlin, 1848. Although he has employed and worked out all imaginable authorities, from the most ancient to those of modern date, and has formed a complete picture of the Peninsula as a whole and in details, with a clear perception and steady hand, both in its geographical bearing and in the historical relations of its population, he has nevertheless not neglected the question now under consideration, in which geography and history are more intimately connected than in any other. Sinai is to the Peninsula of Sinai what Jerusalem is to Palestine, and as it is certain that the erection of the church on Gebel Mûsa in the sixth century, from a belief that it was founded on the spot of the law-giving, caused the _historical_ centre of the Peninsula, which previously coincided indisputably with the town of Pharan and its forest of palms (the natural _geographical_ centre), to be sundered for the first time, and gradually, since the tenth century, from this, and to be removed several days’ journey farther to the south,—so it is equally certain that the decision of the question, whether this was a _first_ or _second_ separation between the historical and geographical centre, must bear most essentially on the comprehension and delineation of the earliest history of the Peninsula, and might even exercise an influence not only on the future form of Sinaitic literature, but even on many relative conditions of the Peninsula itself, which are in no small degree regulated by the objects aimed at by the constantly increasing number of travellers. Ritter’s representation was compelled at the very outset to decide for one of these two views. At the same time, the new view, proffered at the latest termination of the preliminary works of merit, and in opposition to what had been held with implicit faith for the last thousand years, and maintained without exception by all recent writers of travels, now first appeared in the form of an occasional and necessarily imperfect traveller’s account, and might very naturally lay even less claim to a favourable hearing, not having hitherto received critical examination from any quarter, nor been noticed by later travellers. For this reason I so much the more value the careful and impartial examination of the grounds in favour of Serbâl being Mount Sinai, for which Ritter has granted a place in his work.

He does this at p. 736, &c. He here rejects the opinion that the tradition of the convent on Gebel Mûsa, known only since the sixth century, could have any weight in forming a decision; “the tradition of the still older convent of Serbâl, and of the town of Serbâl in Wadi Firân, might be said to have existed just as truly, but has only been lost _to us_.” Other reasons, therefore, derived from nature and history, must speak in its favour. He then cites the view adopted by Robinson, who places Raphidîm in the upper part of the Wadi e’ Scheikh; but with justice he places in opposition to this, that it then encroaches upon the farther march, and would be mentioned; and shortly afterwards he says, in as convincing a manner, that we cannot then conceive how the people could have murmured for want of water, already one day’s journey beyond the Firân, which was so richly supplied with water, while this can be easily explained on the long way from Elim, as far as the neighbourhood of Firân. Ritter therefore agrees with me and the old tradition in regarding the wonderful brook of Firân as the spring of Moses. He only thinks, if Moses struck the spring out of the rock, it must then have been at the beginning, and not at the termination of the present brook, and he therefore transfers Raphidîm into the uppermost portion of Wadi Firân, whose fertility did not exist before the appearance of the spring. With respect to the position of the Mount of the Law, he evades positive decision for the time. “Already,” he says, “in both the almost contemporaneous narrators, Jerome (Procopius?) and Cosmas, we see the division of the views entertained about these localities, neither of which, even in the most recent double view, it appears by decisive and sufficient grounds, can be preferred, by us at least, alone before the others. Since each of these two modes of explanation of a text so indeterminate in topographical respects, and of a locality still known so imperfectly, can only serve as _hypothetical probabilities_ in a more exact interpretation, allow me to point out cursorily our _hypothetical view_ of this affair, which will perhaps never be placed in a perfectly clear light.”

It amounts finally to this, that _the_ “Mount of God,” where Moses was encamped when he was visited by Jethro in Raphidîm, _could have in no case meant the convent mountain of Sinai_ (_i. e._ _Gebel Mûsa_), although this, on a later occasion, is even thus called, as that of the true God, _but from which they at that time under every supposition were far removed_, though _probably_ it might have been a designation for the overtowering and far nearer _Serbâl_ when they were still in the camp at “Raphidîm.” He afterwards acknowledges that before the 19th chapter there was an _interruption of the connection_ with the preceding chapters, but seeks a reason for this in a _gap_ in the text, while I would rather assume that there was a short _interpolation_. Let the progress of the people from the Feirân valley into the upper valley of the Scheikh, and to Gebel Mûsa, the true Sinai, be thrown into this gap. This at first is only called “the Mount” (Exodus xix. 2), and becomes a “Mount of God” for the first time _after_ the law-giving (which, however, the following verse, xix. 3, contradicts), while Serbâl might have been called “the Mount of God” from a heathen deity there worshipped. “Both mounts, the Mount of God (Serbâl) in Raphidîm, and the mount in the Wilderness of Sinai, are therefore just as different by name as they appear removed from each other by the last day’s marches between both places of encampment.” He regards the general natural conditions of the country about Gebel Mûsa on account of the greater security and coolness, and from the pasture-land bearing a greater resemblance to the Alps, as more adapted for a longer sojourn of the people. The name of HOREB only, which is already mentioned in Raphidîm, might serve as an objection, yet he sees no sufficient ground not to extend this name to some of the lower mountains attached to Serbâl itself, for already ROBINSON, HENGSTENBERG, and others, comprehend it as a general designation.

So far as I know, this is the first time that it has been attempted to prove that there were _two_ Mounts of God, Serbâl _and_ Gebel Mûsa. This, however, certainly is the _necessary result, though not yet expressed by others, which all must arrive at who place Raphidîm in Firân_. In this, it appears to me, lies a main proof with reference to the criticism of the text, that _both_ Mounts of God are to be recognised in _Serbâl_. We must not lay too much stress on the greater security of the plain of Râha for a “harnessed” (Exodus xiii. 18) army of 600,000 men, after it had set firm footing in the land, besides Serbâl must have at all times offered an admirable place of reserve. The cold in the high mountain range, which, according to RÜPPELL and ROBINSON, freezes the water into ice in the convent (5000 feet above the sea) even as late as February (Ritter, p. 445, 630), would have alone rendered an open encampment on the plain of Râha during the winter impossible, for a population lately accustomed to the Egyptian climate. But with respect to the vegetation in those districts, which has indeed been differently described by different travellers, the idea that not the slightest doubt existed as to this having been at one time the sojourn of the Israelites, may have partly caused many to presuppose the existence of more herbs in the neighbourhood than they momentarily saw; partly, no doubt, the season of the year occasions some variations. I therefore only observe that I visited the Peninsula about the same time of the year in which, according to the Mosaic narration, the Israelites also went thither.

Ritter, finally, has expressed his views on the Sinai question on another occasion in a popular essay, “The Peninsula of Sinai, and the Path of the Children of Israel to Sinai,” in the “Evangelical Calendar,” Almanack for 1852, published _by F. Piper_, p. 31, &c. Here also he places Raphidîm in Firân, and traces the _Mount of God_ at _Raphidîm_ in _Serbâl_. But in opposition to the identity of Serbâl and Sinai, he here adduces principally the two following reasons. As it has been now proved that the so-called Sinaitic inscriptions have a Pagan origin, and that they indicate that Serbâl, to which they principally refer, was the “centre of an ancient worship,” then this remarkable mount, if already a holy mount of the _idolater_, could not have been at the same time a “Mount of _Jehovah_” (p. 51), and further (p. 52), “Israel’s holy Mount of God was not situated in the territory of _Amalek_, like Serbâl, but in the eastern and southern territory of _Midian_, for it is said expressly (Exodus iv. 19), that the Lord commanded Moses in Midian to go to Egypt, and to lead the people to sacrifice to him upon this Mount Horeb and Sinai in Midian” (Exodus iii. 1-12). With respect to these two points however, the first, namely that Serbâl was also a _holy_ mount for the Semitic people ruling over the Peninsula at a later period, seems to me a reason of great weight _in favour_ of Serbâl-Sinai, as indeed also already, _before_ the law-giving, it was not called “Idol Mount,” but _Mount of God_ (Exodus iii. 1, iv. 27, xviii. 5), just as much as _after_ the law-giving (Exodus xxiv. 13, 1 Kings xix. 8), and a heathen readoption at a later period of the worship of this mount must certainly be less surprising. But that Moses dwelt with Jethro in MIDIAN, when the Lord spoke to him, offers no ground to place the Mount of the Law in Midian, for that is nowhere said. We only know that Raphidîm, where Moses was visited by Jethro out of Midian, was situated in the territory of the _Amalekites_, as these here made the attack. Eusebius, who (s. v. Ῥαφιδίμ, see note, p. 313) expressly places Raphidîm and Choreb in Pharan, says (s. v. Χωρήβ) that this Mount of God lay in MADIAN. In the Itinerar. Antonini, c. 40, also, Pharan is placed in MADIAN.

I trust these remarks, in which I think I have touched upon all the essential objections of the respected author, may prove to him how high a value I place on each of his arguments, as being those of one who is more competent to judge in this field than any other person. Ritter’s long proved acuteness for tracing the correct view of such questions, would have excited more consideration in me against my own view of the subject, than all the reasons he has adduced, which, taken singly at least, seem to me refutable, had I not in _this_ case, at any rate, had the advantage of a personal view of the localities, without any preconceived influence; this might render my judgment of earlier narrators more independent than could be the case with him.