I will only venture to add the following remarks to the learned explanations of Professor Ideler. According to Pliny and Solinus, Atlas rises from the midst of a sandy plain (e medio arenarum), and its declivity affords pasture to elephants, which have undoubtedly never been known in Teneriffe. That which we now term Atlas is a long mountain ridge. How could the Romans have recognised one isolated conical elevation in this mountain range of Herodotus? May the cause not be ascribed to the optical illusion by which every mountain chain, when seen laterally from an oblique point of view, appears to be of a narrow and conical form? I have often, when at sea, mistaken long mountain ranges for isolated mountains. According to Höst, Mount Atlas is covered with perpetual snow near Morocco. Its elevation must therefore be upwards of 11,500 feet at that particular spot. It seems to me very remarkable that the barbarians, the ancient Mauritanians, if we are to believe the testimony of Pliny, called Mount Atlas Dyris. This mountain chain is still called by the Arabs Daran, a word that is almost identical in its consonants with Dyris. Hornius,[[EP]] on the other hand, thinks that he recognises the term Dyris in the word Ayadyrma, the name applied by the Guanches to the Peak of Teneriffe.[[EQ]]
As our present geological knowledge of the mountainous parts of North Africa, which, however, must be admitted to be very limited, does not make us acquainted with any traces of volcanic eruptions within historic times, it seems the more remarkable that so many indications should be found in the writings of the Ancients of a belief in the existence of such phenomena in the Western Atlas and the contiguous west coast of the continent. The streams of fire so often mentioned in Hanno’s Ship’s Journal might indeed have been tracks of burning grass, or beacon fires lighted by the wild inhabitants of the coasts as a signal to warn each other of threatening danger on the first appearance of hostile vessels. The high summit of the “Chariot of the Gods,” of which Hanno speaks (the θεῶν ὄχημα), may also have had some faint reference to the Peak of Teneriffe; but farther on he describes a singular configuration of the land. He finds in the gulf, near the Western Horn, a large island, in which there is a salt lake, which again contains a smaller island. South of the Bay of the Gorilla Apes the same conformation is repeated. Does he refer to coral structures, lagoon islands (Atolls), and to volcanic crater lakes, in the middle of which a conical mountain has been upheaved? The Triton Lake was not in the neighbourhood of the lesser Syrtis, but on the western shores of the Atlantic.[[ER]] The lake disappeared in an earthquake, which was attended with great fire-eruptions. Diodorus[[ES]] says expressly πυρὸς εκφυτήματα μεγάλα. But the most wonderful configuration is ascribed to the hollow Atlas, in a passage hitherto but little noticed in one of the philosophical Dialexes of Maximus Tyrius, a Platonic philosopher who lived in Rome under Commodus. His Atlas is situated “on the continent where the Western Lybians inhabit a projecting peninsula.” The mountain has a deep semi-circular abyss on the side nearest the sea; and its declivities are so steep that they cannot be descended. The abyss is filled with trees, and “one looks down upon their summits and the fruits they bear as if one were looking into a well.”[[ET]] The description is so minute and graphic that it no doubt sprung from the recollection of some actual view.
[23]. p. 9.—“The Mountains of the Moon, Djebel-al-Komr.”
The Mountains of the Moon described by Ptolemy,[[EU]] σελήνης ὄρος, form on our older maps a vast uninterrupted mountain chain, traversing the whole of Africa from east to west. The existence of these mountains seems certain; but their extent, their distance from the equator, and their mean direction, still remain problematical. I have indicated in another work[[EV]] the manner in which a more intimate acquaintance with Indian idioms and the ancient Persian or Zend teaches us that a part of the geographical nomenclature of Ptolemy constitutes an historical memorial of the commercial relations that existed between the West and the remotest regions of Southern Asia and Eastern Africa. The same direction of ideas is apparent in relation to a subject that has very recently become a matter of investigation. It is asked, whether the great geographer and astronomer of Pelusium merely meant in the denomination of Mountains of the Moon (as in that of “Island of Barley,” (Jabadiu, Java) to give the Greek translation of the native name of those mountains; whether, as is most probable, El-Istachri, Edrisi, Ibn-al-Vardi, and other early Arabian geographers, simply transferred the Ptolemaic nomenclature into their own language; or whether similarity in the sound of the word and the manner in which it was written misled them? In the notes to the translation of Abd-Allatif’s celebrated description of Egypt, my great teacher, Silvestre de Sacy,[[EW]] expressly says, “The name of the mountains regarded by Leo Africanus as furnishing the sources of the Nile, has generally been rendered ‘Mountains of the Moon,’ and I have adhered to the same practice. I do not know whether the Arabs originally borrowed this denomination from Ptolemy. It may indeed be inferred that at the present day they understand the word قمر in the sense of moon, pronouncing it kamar; I do not think however, that such was the practice of the older Arabs, who pronounced it komr, as has been proved by Makrizi. Aboulfeda positively rejects the opinion of those who would adopt the pronunciation kamar, and derive the word from the name of the moon. As, according to the author of Kamous, the word komr, considered as the plural of اقمر, signifies an object of a greenish or dirty white colour, it would appear that some authors have supposed that this mountain derived its name from its colour.”
The learned Reinaud, in his recent excellent translation of Abulfeda (t. ii., p. i., pp. 81, 82), regards it as probable that the Ptolemaic interpretation of the name of Mountains of the Moon (ὄρη σεληναῖα) was that originally adopted by the Arabs. He observes that in the Moschtarek of Yakut, and in Ibn-Said, the mountain is written al-Komr, and that Yakut writes in a similar manner the name of the Island of Zendj (Zanguebar). The Abyssinian traveller Beke, in his learned and critical treatise on the Nile and its tributaries,[[EX]] endeavours to prove that Ptolemy, in his σελήνης ὄρος, merely followed the native name, for the knowledge of which he was indebted to the extensive commercial intercourse which then existed. He says, “Ptolemy knew that the Nile rises in the mountainous district of Moezi, and in the languages which are spoken over a great part of Southern Africa (as, for instance, in Congo, Monjou, and Mozambique), the word moezi signifies the moon. A large tract of country situated in the south-west was called Mono-Muezi, or Mani-Moezi, i.e., the land of the King of Moezi (or Moon-land); for in the same family of languages in which moezi or muezi signifies the moon, mono or mani signifies a king. Alvarez[[EY]] speaks of the ‘regno di Manicongo,’ or territory of the king of Congo.” Beke’s opponent, Ayrton, seeks the sources of the White Nile (Bahr el-Abiad), not as do Arnaud, Werne, and Beke, near the equator, or south of it (in 31° 22′ E. long. from Greenwich), but far to the north-east, as does Antoine d’Abbadie, in the Godjeb and Gibbe of Eneara (Iniara), therefore in the high mountains of Habesch, in 7° 20′ north lat., and 35° 22′ east long. from Greenwich. He is of opinion that the Arabs, from a similarity of sound, may have interpreted the native name Gamaro, which was applied to the Abyssinian mountains lying south-west of Gaka, and in which the Godjeb (or White Nile) takes its rise, to signify a mountain of the moon (Djebel al-Kamar); so that Ptolemy himself, who was familiar with the intercourse existing between Abyssinia and the Indian Ocean, may have adopted the Semitic interpretation, as given by the descendants of the early Arab immigrants.[[EZ]]
The lively interest which has recently been felt in England for the discovery of the most southern sources of the Nile induced the Abyssinian traveller above referred to, (Charles Beke) at a recent meeting of the “British Association for the advancement of Science,” held at Swansea, more fully to develope his ideas respecting the connection between the Mountains of the Moon and those of Habesch. “The Abyssinian elevated plain,” he says, “generally above 8000 feet high, extends towards the south to nearly 9° or 10° north latitude. The eastern declivity of the highlands has, to the inhabitants of the coast, the appearance of a mountain chain. The plateau, which diminishes considerably in height towards its southern extremity, passes into the Mountains of the Moon, which run not east and west, but parallel to the coast, or from N.N.E. to S.S.W., extending from 10° north to 5° south latitude. The sources of the White Nile are situated in the Mono-Moezi country, probably in 2° 30′ south latitude, not far from where the river Sabaki, on the eastern side of the Mountains of the Moon, falls into the Indian Ocean, near Melindeh, north of Mombaza. Last autumn (1847), the two Abyssinian missionaries Rebmann and Dr. Krapf were still on the coast of Mombaza. They have established in the vicinity, among the Wakamba tribe, a missionary station, called Rabbay Empie, which seems likely to be very useful for geographical discoveries. Families of the Wakamba tribe have advanced westward five or six hundred miles into the interior of the country, as far as the upper course of the river Lusidji, the great lake Nyassi or Zambeze (5° south lat.?), and the vicinal sources of the Nile. The expedition to these sources, which Friedrich Bialloblotzky, of Hanover, is preparing to undertake” (by the advice of Beke), “is to start from Mombaza. The Nile coming from the west referred to by the ancients is probably the Bahr-el-Ghazal, or Keilah, which falls into the Nile in 9° north lat., above the mouth of the Godjeb or Sobat.”
Russegger’s scientific expedition—undertaken in 1837 and 1838, in consequence of Mehemet Ali’s eager desire to participate in the gold washings of Fazokl on the Blue (Green) Nile, Bahr el-Azrek—has rendered the existence of a Mountain of the Moon very doubtful. The Blue Nile, the Astapus of Ptolemy, rising from Lake Coloe (now called Lake Tzana), winds through the colossal Abyssinian range of mountains; while to the south-west there appears a far extended tract of low land. The three exploring expeditions which the Egyptian Government sent from Chartum to the confluence of the Blue and the White Nile (the first under the command of Selim Bimbaschi, in November, 1839; the next, which was attended by the French engineers Arnaud, Sabatier, and Thibaut, in the autumn of 1840; and the third, in the month of August, 1841), first removed some of the obscurity which had hitherto shrouded our knowledge of the high mountains, which between the parallels of 6°–4°, and probably still further southward, extend first from west to east, and subsequently from north-west to south-east, towards the left bank of the Bahr-el-Abiad. The second of Mehemet Ali’s expeditions first saw the mountain chain, according to Werne’s account, in 11° 20′ north lat., where Gebel Abul and Gebel Kutak rise to the height of 3623 feet. The high land continued to approach the river more to the south from 4° 45′ north lat. to the parallel of the Island of Tchenker in 4° 4′, near the point at which terminated the expedition commanded by Selim and Feizulla Effendi. The shallow river breaks its way through the rocks, and separate mountains again rise in the land of Bari to the height of more than 3200 feet. These are probably a part of the Mountains of the Moon, as they are given in our most recent maps, although they are not covered with perpetual snow, as asserted by Ptolemy.[[FA]] The line of perpetual snow would assuredly not be found in these parallels of latitude below an elevation of nearly 15,500 feet above the sea’s level. It is not improbable that Ptolemy extended the knowledge he may have possessed of the high mountains of Habesch, near Upper Egypt and the Red Sea, to the country of the sources of the White Nile. In Godjam, Kaffa, Miecha, and Sami, the Abyssinian mountains rise from 10,000 to nearly 15,000 feet, as we learn from exact measurements; (not according to those of Bruce, who gives to Chartum an elevation of 5041 feet, instead of the true height, 1524 feet!) Rüppell, who ranks amongst the most accurate observers of the present day, found Abba Jarat (in 13° 10′ north lat.) only 70 feet below the elevation of Mont Blanc,[[FB]] The same observer states that a plain, elevated 13,940 feet above the Red Sea, was barely covered with a thin layer of freshly fallen snow.[[FC]] The celebrated inscription of Adulis, which, according to Niebuhr, is of somewhat later date than the age of Juba and Augustus, speaks of “Abyssinian snow that reaches to the knee,” and affords, I believe, the most ancient record in antiquity of snow within the tropics,[[FD]] as the Paropanisus is 12° lat. north of that limit.
Zimmermann’s map of the district of the Upper Nile shows the dividing line where the basin of the great river terminates in the south-east, and which separates it from the domain of the rivers belonging to the Indian Ocean, viz.; from the Doara which empties itself north of Magadoxo; from the Teb on the amber coast of Ogda; from the Goschop whose abundant waters are derived from the confluence of the Gibu and the Zebi, and which must be distinguished from the Godjeb, rendered celebrated since 1839 by Antoine d’Abbadie, Beke, and the Missionary Krapf. In a letter to Carl Ritter I hailed with the most lively joy the appearance of the combined results of the recent travels of Beke, Krapf, Isenberg, Russegger, Rüppel, Abbadie, and Werne, as ably and comprehensively brought together in 1843 by Zimmermann. “If a prolonged span of life,” I wrote to him, “bring with it many inconveniences to the individual himself, and some to those about him, it yields a compensation in the mental enjoyment, afforded by comparing the earlier state of our knowledge with its more recent condition, and of seeing the growth and development of many branches of science that had long continued torpid, or whose actual fruits hypercriticism may even have attempted to set aside. This genial enjoyment has from time to time fallen to our lot in our geographical studies, and more especially in reference to those portions of which we could hitherto only speak with a certain timid hesitation. The internal configuration and articulation of a continent depends in its leading characters on several plastic relations which are usually among the latest to be elucidated. A new and excellent work of our friend, Carl Zimmermann, on the district of the Upper Nile and of the eastern portions of Central Africa, has made me more vividly sensible of these considerations. This new map indicates, in the clearest manner, by means of a special mode of shading, all that still remains unknown, and all that by the courage and perseverance of travellers of all nations (among which our own countrymen happily play an important part), has already been disclosed to us. We may regard it as alike important and useful that the actual condition of our knowledge, should, at different periods, be graphically represented by men well acquainted with the existing and often widely scattered materials of knowledge, and who not merely delineate and compile, but who know how to compare, select, and, where it is practicable, test the routes of travellers by astronomical determinations of place. Those who have contributed as much to the general stock of knowledge as you have done, have indeed an especial right to expect much, since their combinations have greatly increased the number of connecting points; yet I scarcely think that when, in the year 1822, you executed your great work on Africa, you could have anticipated so many additions as we have received.” It must be admitted that, in some cases, we have only acquired a knowledge of rivers, their direction, their branches, and their numerous synonymes according to various languages and dialects; but the courses of rivers indicate the configuration of the surface of the earth, and exert a threefold influence; they promote vegetation, facilitate general intercourse, and are pregnant with the future destiny of man.
The northern course of the White Nile, and the south-eastern course of the great Goschop, show that both rivers are separated by an elevation of the surface of the earth; although we are as yet but imperfectly acquainted with the manner in which such an elevation is connected with the highlands of Habesch, or how it may be prolonged in a southerly direction beyond the equator. Probably, and this is also the opinion of my friend Carl Ritter, the Lupata Mountains, which, according to the excellent Wilhelm Peters, extend to 26° south lat., are connected by means of the Mountains of the Moon with this northern swelling of the earth’s surface (the Abyssinian Highlands). Lupata, according to the last-named African traveller, signifies, in the language of Tette, closed, when used as an adjective. This mountain-range which is only intersected by some few rivers would thus be the closed or barred. “The Lupata chain of the Portuguese writers,” says Peters, “is situated about 90 leagues from the mouth of the Zambeze, and has an elevation of little more than 2000 feet. This mural chain has a direction due north and south, although it frequently deflects to the east or the west. It is sometimes interrupted by plains. Along the coast of Zanzibar the traders in the interior appear to be acquainted with this long, but not very high range, which extends between 6° and 26° south lat. to the Factory of Lourenzo-Marques on the Rio de Espirito Santo (in the Delagoa Bay of the English). The further the Lupata chain extends to the south, the nearer it approaches the coast, until at Lourenzo-Marques it is only 15 leagues distant from it.”
[24]. p. 10.—“The consequence of the great rotatory movement of the waters.”