Another of the provisions that had been made for the early progress of the country was something quite unique: there was not by nature, and there could not be constructed by man, a single strong place in the whole of Egypt, such as would enable powerful and ambitious individuals, or malcontent factions of the people, to maintain themselves in independence of the rest of the community, or to defy the government. Nature had supplied no such places, and the conditions of the country were such that they could not be formed. This is a point which involves so much that I will return to it presently.
It ought not to be unnoticed here, for it is one of the important peculiarities of the country, that Egypt yields both a winter and a summer harvest. The overflow of the river, and the warmth of the winter sun suffice for the former, which consists of the produce of temperate regions; and artificial irrigation for the latter, which consists of the produce of the tropics. This gives it the advantage of the climates of two zones; the one temperate and the other tropical; for, though it lies to the north of the tropic, its winter, by reason of its environment by the heat-accumulating desert, resembles our summer, and its summer, for the same reason, that of the tropics. Egypt is thus enabled to exceed all other countries in the variety of its produce. Both its wheat and its cotton are grown beneath its palms. This variety of produce ought to contribute largely to the wealth, and well-being of a country; and it was, we know, a very considerable ingredient in the greatness of the Egypt of the Pharaohs.
The characteristics of surrounding nature had corresponding effects on the ideas, too, and sentiments of the ancient Egyptians. We may, for instance, be absolutely certain that had they lived in an Alpine country, although they might have had the power of commanding the requisite materials on easier terms, they never would have built the Pyramids, for then an Egyptian Pyramid would have been but a pigmy monument by the side of nature’s Pyramids. But as these structures stood in Egypt, when seen from the neighbourhood of Memphis and Heliopolis, and throughout that level district of country, they went beyond nature. There they were veritable mountains; and that is what the word means. There were no other such mountains to be seen. In that was their motive. Man had entered into rivalry with nature, and had outdone nature.
So was it with one instance. And so was it on the whole, generally. The guise in which nature presented herself to the eye of the Egyptian was grand and simple. Nature to him meant the broad beneficent river; the green plain; the naked bounding ridge on the right hand, and on the left; upon, and beyond these the lifeless, colourless desert; above, the azure depth traversed by the unveiled sun by day, and illumined with the gleaming host of heaven by night. Here were just five grand natural objects, and there were no more. We rehabilitating to our mind’s eye the scene, must add a sixth, the orderly, busy, thronging community itself. But to them these five objects were all nature. No dark forests of ancient oak, and pine; no jutting headlands; no island-sown seas; no hills watered from above, nor springs running among the hills; no cattle upon a thousand hills; no shady valleys; no smoking mountains. Just five grand objects; everywhere just the same, and nothing else. Their thoughts and sentiments could only have been a reflection of nature (their mind as a glass reflected nature), and of the instincts which the form of society nature had imposed upon them gave rise to. And their acts could only have been the embodiment of their thoughts and sentiments, which must needs have been in harmony with surrounding nature. And hence the character of the people, which was grand and simple; but withal sensibly hard, somewhat rigid and formal, without much tenderness, and with little geniality; solid, grave, and serious.
Under such circumstances the individual was nothing. There could be no Homeric Chieftains; no Tribunes of the people; no eccentricities of genius. The community was an organism, of which every member had his special functions and purpose; a well-ordered machine which did much work, and did it smoothly.
This complete organization of society—it was what the gifts and arrangements of nature had enabled them to attain to—had brought them face to face with the ideas of law and justice. But under their form of society—and it has not been different under other forms the world has since seen—it was understood that some laws, which were necessary, were not good, and that justice did not rule absolutely. We see—it shows itself in all that they did—that their minds were too thorough, and logical, to rest satisfied under these contradictions; they therefore worked out for themselves to its legitimate, and complete development the old Aryan thought of a life beyond this present existence: this was that western world of theirs, in which no law would be bad, and in which there would be no miscarriage of justice. And thus it came to be that their doctrine of a future life was the apotheosis of their social ideas of law, and justice, and right.
And nature encouraged them in this belief. Every day they saw the sun expire in the western boundary of the solid world; and the next morning rise again to life. They saw also the mighty river always moving on to annihilation in the great sea, just as the sun sank every evening into the desert: but still it was not annihilated. Its being was lost, and was recovered, at every moment. It was ever dying, but equally it was ever living. These two great phenomena of nature (through our increased knowledge they teach other lessons now) aided the idea which the working of society was making distinct in their apprehension, and confirmed them in the belief of their own immortality. With the Egyptian also death would not be the end: the renewal he beheld in the sun, and in the river, would not fail himself.
The complete organization of the whole population had been rendered possible by the peculiar advantages of the country. The enterprising among the Pharaohs availing themselves of this complete organization, and of these peculiar advantages, were thereby enabled to command the whole resources of Egypt, and to wield the whole community at their will, as if it had been but one man.
I reserved for separate and fuller consideration the point that nature had nowhere provided Egypt with a single spot where the ambitious, the discontented, or the oppressed could maintain themselves; or to which, we may add, they could even secede. In this respect also, Egypt is quite unique. The configuration of the country, combined with the absence of rain, brought about this peculiarity. The valley of Egypt, speaking roundly, is five hundred miles long, and five miles wide, with a broad navigable river flowing through the midst of it. The Government will always be in possession of the river. It follows then that before the disaffected can be drawn together in formidable numbers at any rendezvous—for the distances they would have to traverse would not admit of this—the Government will be able to send troops by the river in sufficient force to disperse them; or, at all events, to prevent their receiving reinforcements.
A second reason is, that these handfuls of isolated insurgents must always remain within reach of the Government troops sent against them. They would not be able to withdraw themselves from the flat, open banks of the river; for there is nowhere vantage ground they could occupy, except in the desert; and there in twenty-four hours, that is before they could be starved, they would by thirst be reduced to submission. For, from the absence of rain, there are no springs on the high ground; and from the same cause the nitre accumulates in the soil to such a degree, as to render the well-water brackish, and unfit for drinking.