Another season

Sunday 16 February 2025

Sometimes words are like tears.

Sometimes they quietly emerge from out of the corners of our perception.

At other times they pour out of us like the torrent of my rushing river.

And there are times when they cannot flow.

My research on this calendar day has drawn me to 1923.

The Pharaoh Tutankhamun ruled during the Eighteenth Dynasty, during the New Kingdom.

Above: Tutankhamun’s golden funerary mask (r. 1332 – 1323 BC)

He died c. 1323 BC and was entombed in the Valley of the Kings, near Thebes (modern Luxor), like most New Kingdom rulers.

Instead of a full-size royal tomb cut into the slopes of the valley, he was interred in a small tomb dug into the valley floor, probably a private tomb that was modified to fit the large amount of goods that accompanied a royal burial.

The tomb was robbed twice soon after its construction.

Officials restored and resealed it, filling the entrance passage with chips of limestone to deter further intrusion.

During the reigns of Ramesses V and Ramesses VI, nearly two centuries after Tutankhamun’s death, his tomb was covered by debris from the construction of their tomb. 

Above: Obelisk of Ramesses V (r. 1149 – 1145 BC)

Above: Fragment of Ramesses VI’s stone sarcophagus from his tomb (12th century BC)

Tutankhamun’s tomb was thus hidden from later waves of robbery so that, unlike the other tombs in the Valley, it retained most of the goods it was stocked with.

Above: The Valley of the Kings in 1922.

The tomb of Tutankhamun lies near the central path through the valley, at centre right.

In the early 20th century Egypt was a de facto British colony, ostensibly ruled by monarchs from the Muhammad Ali dynasty (1805 – 1953), but, in fact, managed by a British Consul-General, who oversaw a government staffed by Egyptians but dominated by the British. 

Above: Muhammad Ali of Egypt (1769 – 1849)

Above: Flag of the Sultanate of Egypt (1914 – 1922)

Egyptology, the study of ancient Egypt, was overseen by the Antiquities Service, a department of the Egyptian government. 

New excavations of ancient sites were heavily dependent on the system known as “partage” or “division of finds“:

Museums or private collectors of ancient artefacts would fund an Egyptological dig in exchange for a share of the artefacts, customarily half, and the remainder went to the Antiquities Service and its museum, the Egyptian Museum in Cairo.

Above: The Pyramids of Giza, Egypt

Above: Egyptian Museum, Cairo, Egypt

Many of the tombs in the Valley of the Kings had been open since ancient times. 

Dozens of others, whose entrances had been deliberately buried by their builders or had become hidden by flash flood debris, were discovered in the course of the nineteenth century. 

Royal mummies and individual burial goods were discovered in some of these tombs, but nothing close to a complete set of royal burial equipment was found.

Above: The mummy of Ramses I (r. 1295 – 1294 BC)

A period of rapid discoveries in the valley began after Howard Carter became the Antiquities Service’s inspector for Upper Egypt, including the Valley of the Kings, in 1900.

Carter had come to Egypt as an artist, assisting in recording Egyptian tomb art, and was then trained as an archaeologist. 

As inspector, Carter both restored and protected the open tombs in the valley and sought to dig for undiscovered tombs.

Above: British archaeologist Howard Carter (1874 – 1939)

In searching for a patron to fund these efforts he found Theodore M. Davis, a wealthy American who regularly visited Egypt.

With Davis’s support Carter made several small finds and cleared three previously unexplored tombs. 

After the Antiquities Service transferred Carter to Lower Egypt in 1904, Davis held the concession to excavate in the valley for another ten years, his efforts managed by a series of five archaeologists. 

Davis pressured these excavators to work rapidly, nearly doubling the number of known tombs in the valley, but his discoveries were often carelessly treated and inadequately documented. 

His excavation of the tomb of a member of the royal family from Tutankhamun’s time, was so poorly handled that the identity of its occupant has been uncertain ever since.

Above: American businessman Theodore Davis (1838 – 1915)

Above: Coffin of Akhenaten (r. 1353 – 1336)

Little was known about Tutankhamun in Davis’s time, though he was known to have restored traditional practices in the monarchy after a brief episode of radical innovation known as the Amarna Period (an era of Egyptian history during the later half of the Eighteenth Dynasty (1550 – 1292 BC) when the royal residence of the Pharaoh and his Queen shifted from the old capital of Thebes (Waset) to Akhetaten (‘Horizon of the Aten‘) in what is now modern Amarna).

It was thus likely that he was buried in the Valley of the Kings, the traditional site for royal burials before and after the Amarna Period. 

Davis never found Tutankhamun’s tomb, assuming no tomb would have been cut into the valley floor, but he did find signs that the king had been buried in the valley.

One such sign was a pit, discovered in 1907, that contained a handful of objects bearing Tutankhamun’s name.

These objects are now thought to have been either burial goods that were originally stored in the entrance corridor of Tutankhamun’s tomb, which were removed and reburied when the restorers filled the corridor, or objects related to Tutankhamun’s funeral.

Another was an uninscribed tomb, found in 1909, that contained pieces of a chariot harness bearing Tutankhamun’s name and that of his successor, Ay.

Davis concluded that this tomb was all that remained of Tutankhamun’s burial, which would mean that virtually all the kings’ tombs expected to exist in the valley were accounted for.

The last years of Davis’s work in the valley produced almost no finds, and in 1912 he wrote:

“I fear the Valley of the Tombs is now exhausted.“

Above: Pharoah Ay (1323 – 1319 BC) performing the Opening of the Mouth ceremony on his predecessor Tutankhamen

He is wearing the Leopard skin worn by Egyptian High Priests and a Khepresh, a blue crown worn by Pharaohs.

Carter left the Antiquities Service in 1905 after a group of French tourists forced their way into a closed archaeological site at Saqqara and he ordered the Egyptian guards to eject them.

The use of force by Egyptians against Europeans caused a scandal and led to his resignation. 

Above: Pyramid of Djoser (r. 2686 – 2648 BC), Saqqara, Egypt

Carter subsequently worked as an excavator for George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon, a collector of Egyptian antiquities, at several sites in Egypt.

Carnarvon bought the concession for the Valley of the Kings when Davis relinquished it in 1914, and although the First World War made it difficult to conduct fieldwork, in 1917 Carter began to clear the valley down to the bedrock. 

This required sifting through the spoil heaps produced by decades of earlier excavations, as well as the valley’s natural alluvium.

At the time neither Carter nor Carnarvon stated they were looking for Tutankhamun’s tomb, but there was reason for them to believe it had not been found.

The objects previously discovered indicated that Tutankhamun had been buried somewhere in the valley, but such meagre remains were unlikely to be a royal burial.

Above: English aristocrat George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon (1866 – 1923)

During these excavations the political status of Egypt changed dramatically.

The Egyptian Revolution of 1919 convinced British authorities that Egypt’s current status was unsustainable.

Above: Nationalists demonstrating in Cairo.

The protesters holding the Egyptian flag with Crescent, the Cross and Star of David on it (1 March 1919)

They issued the Unilateral Declaration of Egyptian Independence in February 1922.

It left the United Kingdom with substantial influence over the government, particularly in military and foreign affairs. 

Antiquities policy was one of the areas ceded to the Egyptians.

The Antiquities Service retained its incumbent director, Pierre Lacau, but he now answered to an Egyptian minister of public works.

Above: Flag of Egypt

The season for excavation and tourism in Egypt extends from November to April, avoiding the worst of the country’s heat. 

In mid-1922, when Carter and Carnarvon were paused between digging seasons, only one section of the Valley of the Kings remained covered by debris.

This area was difficult to clear because it included the remains of ancient workers’ huts and lay close to the entrance of another tomb, which attracted heavy tourist traffic.

Carnarvon discussed abandoning excavation in the Valley, given how fruitless the effort had been, but Carter offered to cover the expense of clearing this final section.

Carnarvon, impressed by Carter’s dedication, agreed to fund the work for one more season.

Above: Tomb of Ramses V and Ramses VI

To minimize the disruption to tourists, Carter and his Egyptian workforce began on 1 November 1922, earlier in the season than usual. 

On 4 November a worker uncovered a step in the rock.

According to Carter’s published account the workmen discovered the step while digging beneath the remains of the huts; other accounts attribute the discovery to a boy digging outside the assigned work area. 

The step proved to be the beginning of a tomb entrance staircase.

At the bottom stood a doorway sealed with limestone and plaster, into which Carter cut a peephole to see the passage beyond was filled with rubble. 

Carter sent a telegram to Carnarvon, then in England, and had the workmen re-fill the pit to secure the tomb until Carnarvon’s arrival.

While waiting, Carter asked his friend and colleague Arthur Callender to assist with the upcoming excavation.

Above: Howard Carter (kneeling), an Egyptian workman, and Arthur Callender (1875 – 1936) at doors of burial shrines in Pharaoh Tutankhamen’s tomb.

The digging resumed after 23 November with Carnarvon’s arrival in Luxor with his daughter Lady Evelyn Herbert.

Above: Lady Evelyn Herbert (1901 – 1990)

Upon closer examination the doorway seal was found to be inscribed with the name of Tutankhamun, suggesting that this was his tomb.

The debris that filled the passage contained objects bearing the names of other kings, suggesting it might be a cache of miscellaneous objects buried during his reign.

The doorway had been partially demolished before being resealed, indicating an ancient robbery.

On 26 November the excavators reached another sealed doorway. 

Carter’s book on the discovery, co-written with Arthur Cruttenden Mace, described the breaching of the seal in one of the most famous passages in the history of archaeology:

With trembling hands I made a tiny breach in the upper left-hand corner.

Darkness and blank space, as far as an iron testing-rod could reach, showed that whatever lay beyond was empty, and not filled like the passage we had just cleared.

Candle tests were applied as a precaution against possible foul gases, and then, widening the hole a little, I inserted the candle and peered in, Lord Carnarvon, Lady Evelyn and Callender standing anxiously beside me to hear the verdict.

At first I could see nothing, the hot air escaping from the chamber causing the candle flame to flicker, but presently, as my eyes grew accustomed to the light, details of the room within emerged slowly from the mist, strange animals, statues, and gold – everywhere the glint of gold.”

Above: Australian archaeologist Arthur Mace (1874 – 1928)

Carnarvon asked Carter if he could see anything.

Accounts differ as to the wording of Carter’s answer.

In the best-known version, in his book, Carter replied:

“Yes, wonderful things.“

The gilded furniture and statuary that Carter saw when first looking into the tomb stood in a room that came to be known as the antechamber. 

This room alone contained burial goods in greater quantity than the excavators had ever expected.

Some were types of object that were very familiar from previous finds; some were exceptionally elaborate examples of their kind.

And some were entirely unexpected. 

From the antechamber led two doorways that had been blocked with plaster and then breached by ancient robbers.

One was left open, revealing that the chamber beyond, dubbed the annexe, was filled with a chaotic jumble of objects.

The other had been resealed in ancient times.

Many of the objects bore Tutankhamun’s name, leaving the excavators in no doubt that this was his original burial.

At some point in the days after first peering into the antechamber, the excavators breached the plaster of the blocked doorway. 

Carter, Carnarvon and Lady Evelyn Herbert squeezed through the hole to find the tomb’s burial chamber, which was mostly filled by the set of gilded shrines that enclosed Tutankhamun’s sarcophagus. 

The robbers had gone no further than the outermost shrine.

Carter, in particular, may have wanted to be certain of that fact.

In 1900 he had opened what he thought was an undisturbed royal tomb, the Bab el-Hosan, in front of many highly placed guests, only to find it nearly empty.

Above: Temple of Hatshepsut (r. 1479 – 1458 BC), Luxor, Egypt

The excavators resealed the hole with new plaster, though their breach of the doorway became something of an open secret in the Egyptological community. 

Later Egyptologists have held differing opinions on the excavators’ actions. 

T. G. H. James (1923 – 2009), Carter’s biographer, argued that entering the burial chamber, before the site had been inspected by officials from the Antiquities Service, did not violate the terms of Carnarvon’s concession or the standards of behavior among archaeologists in the 1920s. 

Joyce Tyldesley asserts that it was against the terms of the concession and points out that the breach necessitated moving some of the artefacts that stood in front of the partition, meaning their original positions could not be recorded.

Above: British archaeologist Joyce Tyldesley

Clearing the tomb of its artefacts would require an unprecedented effort. 

Moisture from flash floods in the valley above had periodically seeped into the tomb over the centuries.

As a result, alternating periods of humidity and dryness had warped wood, dissolved glue and caused leather and textiles to decay.

Every exposed surface was covered with an unidentified pink film.

Carter later estimated that without intensive restoration efforts, only a tenth of the burial goods would have survived being transported to Cairo. 

He needed assistance, and he called upon Albert Lythgoe, head of the Egyptian Expedition of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, which was working nearby, to loan some of its personnel.

Above: Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York City

Lythgoe sent:

• Mace, a specialist in conservation
• Harry Burton, regarded as the best archaeological photographer in Egypt

Above: English photographer Harry Burton (1879 – 1940)

• the architect Walter Hauser
• the artist Lindsley Hall, who drew scale drawings of the antechamber and its contents. 

Other experts also volunteered their services: 

• Alfred Lucas, a chemist for the Antiquities Service, whose expertise would be a great help in the conservation effort

Above: English chemist Alfred Lucas (1867 – 1945)

• James Henry Breasted and Alan Gardiner, two of the foremost scholars of the Egyptian language of the time, to translate any texts discovered in the tomb

Above: US archaeologist James Henry Breasted (1865 – 1935)

Above: British Egyptologist Alan Gardiner (1879 – 1963)

• Percy Newberry (1869 – 1949), a specialist of botanical specimens

• his wife Essie, who helped conserve textiles from the burial.

They used the entrance of the tomb of Seti II, as a storeroom and conservation laboratory, the tomb of Akhenaten as a photographic darkroom, and the tomb of Ramesses XI, as a place to take meals.

Above: Ramesses XI (1107 – 1077 BC), Temple of Khonsu, Karnak, Egypt

Four Egyptian foremen – Ahmed Gerigar, Gad Hassan, Hussein Abu Awad and Hussein Ahmed Said – also worked in the tomb, and a handful of Egyptian porters, whose names are not recorded, carried objects from Tutankhamun’s tomb to Seti’s tomb.

Above: Tomb of Seti II (r. 1203 – 1197 BC)

On 16 December, the excavators began clearing the antechamber, starting with the objects north of the entrance and moving anti-clockwise around the room. 

Objects were labelled with reference numbers and photographed in situ before being moved. 

Carter said of the stacks of furniture and other objects in the antechamber:

“So crowded were they that it was a matter of extreme difficulty to move one without running serious risk of damaging others, and in some cases they were so inextricably tangled that an elaborate series of supports had to be devised to hold one object or group of objects in place while another was being removed.“

The disorganized contents of boxes had to be sorted through, and in some cases pieces of a single object, such as an elaborate inlaid corselet, were scattered through the chamber and had to be searched for before being reassembled. 

Upon removal from the tomb, the objects were cleaned and, if necessary, treated with preservatives such as celluloid solution or paraffin wax. 

The items in most urgent need of conservation were treated on the spot, but most were removed to another tomb for treatment.

Above: Statue of Seti II

The tomb inspired a public craze that came to be known as “Tutmania“, a specific instance of the long-standing phenomenon of Western Egyptomania.

As Breasted’s son Charles put it, the news of the discovery “broke upon a world sated with post-First World War conferences, with nothing proved and nothing achieved, after a summer journalistically so dull that an English farmer’s report of a gooseberry the size of a crabapple achieved the main news pages of the London metropolitan dailies.” 

The resulting media frenzy was unprecedented in the history of Egyptology.

Carter and Carnarvon became internationally famous, and Tutankhamun, formerly unknown to the public, became so familiar as to be given a nickname, “King Tut“.

Above: Tutankhamun wooden bust

Tourists in Luxor abandoned the normal sightseeing itinerary and flocked to the tomb, crowding around the retaining wall that surrounded the pit in which the tomb entrance lay.

At times the excavators feared the wall might collapse from the weight of the people leaning on it.

When possible, the excavators left objects uncovered when carrying them out of the entrance, to please the sightseers.

People who demanded to enter the tomb, many of whom were too highly positioned or well-connected to refuse, presented a greater difficulty.

Every visit to the tomb by a non-archaeologist increased the risk of damage to the burial goods and disrupted the excavators’ work schedule.

Carter and Mace estimated that a quarter of the work time during the first season was given over to accommodating such visitors.

The phenomenon extended far beyond the tomb itself.

Above: Tourists outside Tutankhamun tomb

Guests at the Winter Palace Hotel in Luxor danced to the “Tutankhamun Rag“.

Above: Winter Palace Hotel, Luxor, Egypt

In the United States the discovery inspired a flurry of ephemeral Egypt-themed films and a more enduring hit song, “Old King Tut“. 

Interest in Egyptology, and sales of books about ancient Egypt, also surged. 

Several established Egyptologists published books about Tutankhamun to capitalize on the trend.

Above: Inside King Tut’s tomb

The opulence of Tutankhamun’s burial goods, in particular, caught the public’s attention. 

Replicas of them appeared as early as 1924, when the British Empire Exhibition featured a reproduction of the tomb, though many of the contents could not be included, as they had not yet been seen even by the excavators. 

The artefacts from the tomb were numbered at 5,398 distinct objects. 

By Carter’s estimation, 1/4% of these objects were damaged beyond repair. 

Most of the remainder were sent to the Egyptian Museum in Cairo, coming to form about a sixth of the museum’s permanent exhibits. 

The sarcophagus, outermost coffin, and mummy remained in the burial chamber, as did a skullcap and large bib-like broad collar, both made of delicate beadwork, that Carter apparently thought too fragile to remove from the mummy.

The public in Europe and the United States compared the everyday items in the tomb to modern household goods, and producers of clothing, jewellery, furniture and household decor hastened to create Egyptian-inspired designs.

Some were based on actual artefacts found in the tomb.

Others simply adopted ancient Egyptian names and motifs.

Although Egyptian Revival decorative arts had existed since the early 19th century, they had largely been aimed at the world of wealthy art connoisseurs.

The products of Tutmania were mass-produced and marketed to the public.

In the 19th century, Egyptians had little interest in ancient Egyptian civilization. 

In the early 20th century that attitude changed, largely because of Ahmed Kamal, one of the first Egyptian Egyptologists, who raised public awareness of ancient Egyptian history. 

Above: Ahmed Kamal’s 1899 work on ancient Heliopolis

In the years leading up to the First World War, Egyptian nationalists began treating ancient Egypt as a source of national identity, one that bound together Egypt’s Muslims and Coptic Christians and emphasized that Egypt had once been powerful and independent. 

This ideology, known as Pharaonism, was well established by the time of the 1919 revolution.

The Western mania for ancient Egypt had inspired modern Egyptians to adopt it as a source of national pride.

Tutankhamun in particular became a national symbol once Tutmania emerged.

After the discovery, ancient imagery became ubiquitous in Egyptian print media, and ancient Egypt became a common subject for Egyptian plays and novels.

Major Egyptian literary figures, such as the poet Ahmed Shawqi, focused on Pharaonist themes in the wake of the discovery. 

The first Egyptian film, made in 1923, was titled In the Country of Tut-Ankh-Amun.

Above: Egyptian poet Ahmad Shawqi (1868 – 1932)

Carnarvon embraced the publicity, hoping to defray the costs of the excavation by licensing rights to the media. 

On 9 January 1923, he signed a contract with The Times, granting its reporter, Arthur Merton, exclusive press access to the tomb. 

Other Egyptological digs had made similar arrangements with newspapers in the past, but the unique nature of the Tutankhamun find made this one a major source of conflict.

A coalition of other press outlets criticized the Times monopoly on official information from the excavation, and their coverage of Carnarvon grew increasingly negative. 

Egyptian papers joined the international press in denouncing the monopoly, which they saw as a sign of continued foreign domination.

At the same time Pharaonist authors expressed fear that the tomb would be subject to a division of finds, sending many of the burial goods out of the country.

An editorial in Al-Ahram, written by Fikri Abaza, declared:

“Lord Carnarvon is exploiting the mortal remains of our ancient fathers before our eyes, and he fails to give the grandchildren any information about their forefathers.”

Above: Logo of Al-Ahram

The antechamber was almost entirely cleared by mid-February 1923, and on 16 February, Carter and Carnarvon formally opened the burial chamber with government officials in attendance. 

At the east end of the burial chamber was an open doorway to a fourth room, dubbed the treasury.

It contained the canopic chest that housed Tutankhamun’s embalmed organs.

Carter had the entrance to this chamber boarded up so it would not be a distraction during the upcoming clearance of the burial chamber.

It was only reopened in 1927.

After a viewing period for the press and the general public, the tomb was closed for the season on 26 February. 

As in each subsequent season, a large temporary workforce of local workmen was recruited to rebury the tomb entrance to prevent intrusion, while the objects that had been conserved were packed up for the workmen to propel by hand along a length of Decauville railway track. 

The limited length of available track had to be constantly taken up and re-laid to cover the distance down to the Nile, where the artefacts were shipped to Cairo.

Above: Workmen move goods from the tomb along a Decauville railroad track to the Nile.

Shortly after the tomb was closed, Carnarvon accidentally cut open a mosquito bite on his cheek while shaving.

The wound became infected, and after weeks of illness, culminating in blood poisoning and pneumonia, he died on 5 April.

Carnarvon had been in frail health for twenty years, but his death soon attracted speculation that something more than infectious disease was at work.

The first autopsy carried out on the body of Tutankhamun by Dr. Derry found a healed lesion on the left cheek, but as Carnarvon had been buried six months previously it was not possible to determine if the location of the wound on the King corresponded with the fatal mosquito bite on Carnarvon.

Above: Tomb of Carnarvon, Beacon Hill, Burghclere, Hampshire, England

Works of fiction in which Egyptian spirits or reanimated mummies exact revenge upon those who disturb their tombs first appeared in the late 19th century. 

This fictional trope came to be known as the “mummy’s curse” or “curse of the pharaohs“.

The real-life stories of Walter Ingram, who died in 1888 after purchasing an Egyptian mummy, and of a coffin lid called the “Unlucky Mummy“, which was purported to cause a variety of misfortunes, cemented the idea of the curse in the public imagination. 

Henry reported how a paperweight given to Carter’s friend Walter Ingram was composed of a mummified hand with its wrist adorned with a scarab bracelet marked with:

“Cursed be he who moves my body.

To him shall come fire, water, and pestilence.”

Soon after receiving the gift, Ingram’s house burned down, followed by a flood when it was rebuilt.

Now the pre-existing concept was applied to Carnarvon’s death.

Several people, such as the author Marie Corelli and a psychic known as Cheiro, claimed to have warned Carnarvon of mortal peril before his death. 

Above: English novelist Marie Corelli (1855 – 1924) – Two weeks before Carnarvon died, Corelli wrote an imaginative letter that was published in the New York World magazine, in which she quoted an obscure book that confidently asserted that “dire punishment” would follow any intrusion into a sealed tomb.

Arthur Weigall, a former Egyptologist who was now the Daily Mail correspondent on the tomb, said he had observed Carnarvon joking as he entered the tomb and remarked to nearby reporter H. V. Morton:

“If he goes down in that spirit, I give him six weeks to live!“

Above: English Egyptologist Arthur Weigall (1880 – 1934)

Above: English writer H. V. Morton (1892 – 1979)

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, creator of Sherlock Holmes and spiritualist, suggested that Lord Carnarvon’s death had been caused by “elementals” created by Tutankhamun’s priests to guard the royal tomb.

This further fueled the media interest.

Above: Scottish writer Arthur Conan Doyle (1859 – 1930)

Later accounts, such as the recollections of the anthropologist Henry Field, claimed that an ancient text wishing death upon violators of the tomb was inscribed over its doorway or on an object within. 

Above: American archaeologist Henry Field (1902 – 1986)

No written curse has ever been documented in Tutankhamun’s tomb, and although some Egyptian tombs did contain such curses, most are from non-royal tombs that predate Tutankhamun by centuries.

Any deaths or unusual events connected with the tomb were treated as possible results of the curse.

Carnarvon’s son and heir, Henry Herbert, 6th Earl of Carnarvon, said that Cairo suffered a power outage at the moment of his father’s death, and in England, his father’s dog let out a howl and died. 

Another such story, recounted by Carter and others involved in the excavation, involved a canary that Carter had bought at the beginning of the digging season. 

Initially, the Egyptian workmen regarded the bird as sign of good luck, and when the tomb was discovered, they dubbed it “the tomb of the bird“.

When a cobra entered Carter’s house and ate the canary, the Egyptians called it an ill omen, relating the intruding animal to the uraeus, the protective cobra emblem, on the brow of Tutankhamun’s statues. 

Above: Tutankhamun tomb statue

When George Jay Gould, who had visited the tomb, died the following May, his death was attributed to the curse, as was that of Aubrey Herbert, Carnarvon’s half-brother, in September. 

Above: American businessman George Jay Gould (1864 – 1923) died in the French Riviera on 16 May 1923 after he developed a fever following his visit to Tutankhamun’s tomb.

Above: British diplomat Aubrey Herbert (1880 – 1923)

During most of his life, he had poor eyesight and was almost blind by his early 40s.

Toward the end of Herbert’s life, he became totally blind.

He received bad medical advice which persuaded him to have all his teeth extracted to help restore his sight.

The dental operation resulted in blood poisoning from which he died in London on 26 September 1923, five months after the death of his elder half-brother, George Herbert, 5th Earl of Carnarvon, the Egyptologist who had discovered the Tomb of Tutankhamun.

Later additions to the list of purportedly cursed deaths included:

• Mace in 1928

Above: Arthur Mace with a chariot from Tutankhamun’s tomb

• Carnarvon’s secretary Richard Bethell died on 15 November 1929, in bed in a Mayfair club, the victim of a suspected smothering
• Weigall in 1934. 

Most Egyptologists dismissed such claims. 

Howard Carter was entirely skeptical of such curses, dismissing them as ‘tommy-rot‘ and commenting that:

“The sentiment of the Egyptologist is not one of fear, but of respect and awe, entirely opposed to foolish superstitions.”

In May 1926, he reported in his diary a sighting of a jackal of the same type as Anubis, the guardian of the dead, for the first time in over thirty-five years of working in the desert, although he did not attribute this to supernatural causes.

Above: Golden jackal

The superstitious Benito Mussolini, who had once accepted an Egyptian mummy as a gift, ordered its immediate removal from the Palazzo Chigi.

Above: Italian dictator Benito Mussolini (1883 – 1945)

In subsequent decades, some sources, such as the author Philipp Vandenberg, suggested natural explanations for the fatalities, such as poisons present in the tomb, but a study in the British Medical Journal in 2002 found no significant difference in mortality between those who had entered the tomb and those who had not.

Egyptian writers picked up the trope of the curse and adapted it for their own purposes. 

Al-Ahram published humorous stories in which Tutankhamun awoke from death to comment on the politics of the day.

More serious works of fiction depicted mummies confronting the Westerners who disturb their tombs, although in a more benign manner than in the Western stories on the same theme.

These stories portrayed mummies not as objects of horror but as national ancestors seeking to redress the treatment of Egypt and its heritage by foreign powers.

When the tomb was discovered, Egyptologists hoped it might contain documents that would clarify the history of the period in which Tutankhamun lived.

No such documents were found, but the artefacts did provide clues. 

The dates on wine jars from the tomb established that Tutankhamun had not reigned much longer than nine years. 

Egyptologists had previously assumed his only claim to the throne was through his marriage to his Queen, Ankhesenamun, and perhaps that he had been an elderly courtier.

Above: Tutankhamun and Ankhesenamun

Yet the examination of the mummy revealed that he was between the ages of 17 and 22 at death, and the unusual shape of his skull resembled that of the unidentified royal mummy from another tomb, suggesting that he was related to it and was thus of royal blood himself. 

Some artworks from the tomb are in the art style of the Amarna Period, and some refer to the Aten, the deity worshipped in that period, indicating that the return to orthodoxy during Tutankhamun’s reign was gradual.

Much of the tomb’s historical value was in the burial goods, which included sumptuous examples of ancient Egyptian decorative arts and enhanced the understanding of the material culture of the New Kingdom, primarily how royalty lived. 

Many of the clothes from the tomb, for example, are far more varied and embellished than the clothes portrayed in art from Tutankhamun’s time. 

The tomb also provides exceptional evidence about tomb robbery and official restoration efforts, because the presence of most of the burial goods makes it possible to partly reconstruct what was stolen and what was restored.

Above: Disassembling the lid of one of the shrines

The discovery marked a change in the history of the Valley of the Kings.

Once the clearance was complete, many Egyptologists lost interest in the valley, assuming there was nothing left there to be found. 

What little archaeological work took place in the valley over the next few decades largely consisted of more fully recording what had already been unearthed. 

No further tombs were discovered in the valley until 2006.

The discovery also affected Egyptology in a different way:

Together with Egypt’s newfound partial independence, the enthusiasm surrounding Tutankhamun helped stimulate the growth of Egyptian Egyptology. 

At the time of the discovery very few Egyptians were trained in archaeology, and those few were looked down upon by European Egyptologists. 

Hamdi was the only Egyptian among the specialized experts who worked on the tomb.

The first Egyptian university programme for Egyptology was established in 1924, and over the course of the decade a new generation of Egyptian Egyptologists were trained.

Although Western public interest in Tutankhamun experienced a lull lasting more than 30 years, it was revived after the Egyptian government began sending the burial goods on international museum exhibitions. 

The exhibitions began in the early 1960s as a means of encouraging Western support for the relocation of ancient Egyptian monuments that were threatened to be flooded by the construction of the Aswan High Dam. 

Such exhibitions proved highly popular.

The one that toured the United States in the 1970s drew more than eight million visitors and moved American museums’ business model to focus on lucrative blockbuster exhibitions. 

Much of the revenue from the exhibitions went to support the monuments’ relocation and to pay for improvements to the Egyptian Museum. 

The exhibitions also served other diplomatic functions, helping to improve Egypt’s relations with Britain and France after the Suez Crisis in 1956, and with the United States after the Yom Kippur War in 1973.

Today the discovery remains the most famous find in the Valley of the Kings and Tutankhamun the best-known ruler of ancient Egypt. 

The tomb and its treasures are key attractions for Egypt’s tourist industry and sources of pride for the Egyptian public. 

The Egyptologist Nicholas Reeves writes that thanks to his fame, Tutankhamun “has been reborn as Egypt’s most famous son, to achieve true immortality at last.”

Delving into the past:

A blessing or a curse?

Above: The Thinker, Auguste Rodin (1904)

This calendar date blog project then reveals to me the works of Nikolai Leskov.

Nikolai Semyonovich Leskov (16 February 1831 – 5 March 1895) was a Russian novelist, short-story writer, playwright, and journalist, who also wrote under the pseudonym M. Stebnitsky.

Praised for his unique writing style and innovative experiments in form, and held in high esteem by Leo Tolstoy, Anton Chekhov and Maxim Gorky among others, Leskov is credited with creating a comprehensive picture of contemporary Russian society using mostly short literary forms. 

Above: Russian writer Leo Tolstoy (1828 – 1910)

Above: Russian writer Anton Chekhov (1860 – 1904)

Above: Russian writer Maxim Gorky (1868 – 1936)

His major works include Lady Macbeth of Mtsensk (1865), The Cathedral Folk (1872), The Enchanted Wanderer (1873) and “The Tale of Cross-eyed Lefty from Tula and the Steel Flea” (1881).

Leskov received his formal education at the Oryol Lyceum.

In 1847 Leskov joined the Oryol criminal court office, later transferring to Kiev, where he worked as a clerk, attended university lectures, mixed with local people, and took part in various student circles.

Above: Independence Square, Kyiv, Ukraine

In 1857 Leskov quit his job as a clerk and went to work for the private trading company Scott & Wilkins owned by Alexander Scott, his aunt’s Scottish husband.

His literary career began in the early 1860s with the publication of his short story The Extinguished Flame (1862), and his novellas Musk-Ox (1863) and The Life of a Peasant Woman (1863).

His first novel No Way Out was published under the pseudonym M. Stebnitsky in 1864.

From the mid-1860s to the mid-1880s Leskov published a wide range of works, including journalism, sketches, short stories, and novels.

Leskov’s major works, many of which continue to be published in modern versions, were written during this time.

A number of his later works were banned because of their satirical treatment of the Russian Orthodox Church and its functionaries.

Above: Cross of the Russian Orthodox Church

Leskov died on 5 March 1895, aged 64, and was interred in the Volkovo Cemetery in Saint Petersburg, in the section reserved for literary figures.

Above: Russian writer Nikolai Leskov

The story that grabs my attention is Leskov’s The Amazon.

The Amazon is a short novel by Nikolai Leskov, first published in the April 1866 issue of Otechestvennye Zapiski, with a dedication to the artist Mikhail Mikeshin (with whom the author was friends at the time).

Above: Russian artist Mikhail Mikeshin (1835 – 1896)

It was included into the collection Novelets, Sketches and Stories by M.Stebnitsky (1967) and later into the Works by N.S. Leskov (1889).

The epigraph “The whole of my life has been a set of lessons, of which my death is but another one.” comes from the lyrical drama Lucius by Apollon Maykov.

Above: Russian poet Apollon Maykov (1821 – 1897)

Domna Platonovna, a forceful and industrious woman who seems to be in contact with half of Saint Petersburg, is in a state of permanent war with the outside world.

Supplying people with lace (the major item of her trade) but also with all kinds of services (like setting marriages, not to speak of less formal liaisons), she greatly resents people’s ingratitude, as she sees it.

To illustrate how badly people treat her, she tells the narrator the story of Lekanida Petrovna, a beautiful and sensitive woman who, having left her provincial husband, came to the capital hoping to find her happiness here, only to be forced into prostitution, by Domna Platonovna herself.

The narrator is baffled:

This ‘warrior woman‘ is by no means vile, she’s just misguided, lacking basic ideas about what’s right and wrong.

Curious as to what circumstances might have turned a human being (she once apparently must have been) into such a pathetic ‘fat-hearted‘ creature, he tries to draw from her some kind of confession, but the stories she tells him about her past are comically bizarre and explain little.

Some things are for certain, though: the meaning of the word “love” is totally foreign to her.

And her only moral defect, as far as she is concerned, is exceptionally sound sleep.

She claims there’s just one sin she’d ever committed, that of having inadvertently swapped husbands with her godmother, and blames for it her sleeping habits again.

Above: Saint Petersburg, Russia

Five years later the narrator, visiting a hospital, meets Domna Platonovna, who is now a nurse.

She is out of her ‘business‘, looks shabby and is on the brink of madness.

It turns out that she’d fallen in love with a 21-year-old man (currently in jail for some petty crime) and gave him all of her property.

She spends the next month praying, asking God to relieve her from this horrible disease, ‘love’, then dies, from what seems to be “life force extinction“.

Before her death she gives the narrator the last two things she’s been left with, her pillow and a can of jam, to be sent to her jailed sweetheart.

Nikolai Leskov’s The Amazon, is a character-driven story that explores themes of gender, power, and the defiance of societal expectations.

The protagonist, a woman who is part of a larger, more symbolic narrative about Russian society, embodies the strength and autonomy of the “Amazon“, challenging traditional roles assigned to women.

The tone is more assertive and dramatic.

It mixes elements of humor with profound social critique, often through the lens of ironic commentary on the life of a woman who goes against norms.

Leskov’s protagonist, the Amazon, is an external force.

She is a woman who resists the traditional roles imposed on her by society, embodying both physical and symbolic strength.

Her character is presented as complex and multifaceted, blending courage, independence, and defiance of her societal role.

Leskov’s character looks outward, challenging norms and forging her path with strong agency.

Leskov’s The Amazon is deeply embedded in Russian culture and society.

The story deals with gender and societal expectations in 19th-century Russia, where women were often expected to remain within domestic confines.

Leskov uses his protagonist to critique these constraints, showcasing the Amazon’s defiance of traditional gender roles.

The societal structure in this story is rigid, and the Amazon’s actions directly challenge those structures, making the story a commentary on both individual autonomy and broader social conventions.

Leskov’s The Amazon is told in the third person, and the style reflects the traditional narrative forms of Russian literature from the 19th century.

The tone shifts between humorous and serious, and the story includes a lot of social commentary, including a certain amount of irony.

Leskov’s narrative style is more overtly dramatic, often playing with the larger-than-life qualities of the protagonist and her actions.

Above: Nikolai Leskov

In The Amazon, the titular character is symbolic of a woman who transcends societal expectations, embodying an almost mythological figure of independence and defiance.

The Amazon herself is a symbol of strength and nonconformity, breaking away from the constraints placed on women in her society.

Above: Nikolai Leskov

In Leskov’s The Amazon, the titular character starts as a woman who is seemingly incapable of love, but by the end of the story, her journey leads her into a state of madness, where she sacrifices herself for love.

This transformation seems extreme, almost tragic, and raises profound questions about the nature of love, sacrifice, and identity in the context of societal expectations.

At the beginning, the Amazon’s identity is framed by her physical strength, independence, and defiance of traditional gender roles.

She lives without the need for romantic attachment, and this nonchalance towards love can be seen as a rejection of the societal idea that women are meant to seek or sustain relationships.

Her refusal to conform is a form of self-protection, but also, perhaps, a commentary on the limitations and dangers of the roles assigned to women in her society.

However, the Amazon’s eventual transformation — where she becomes consumed by her feelings of love for a man — can be interpreted as a commentary on the damaging effects of love when it is tied to social expectations, especially in a world where women are often taught to define their worth by their relationships with men.

Leskov’s Amazon moves from a position of strength and autonomy to one of weakness, where her identity becomes consumed by the love she feels for a man who ultimately undermines her sense of self.

This change could be seen as a critique of the idea that women’s value is inextricably tied to their ability to love or to be loved by men.

In some ways, this is a tragic commentary on the expectations placed upon women to sacrifice themselves for love — whether through devotion to a man or in the context of motherhood and domestic life.

The Amazon’s descent into madness may reflect how these gendered expectations can destroy a woman’s sense of agency, especially when love becomes something that erodes her individual identity rather than empowering her.

She begins with an ability to resist love and conventional roles, but by the end of the story, she is undone by love.

This transformation into madness seems like a tragic consequence of a societal system that demands women sacrifice themselves for romantic devotion, even to the point of losing their identity.

Above: Nikolai Leskov

My research on this calendar date leads me to 1838 and the birth of Henry Adams.

Above: Henry Adams

Henry Brooks Adams (February 16, 1838 – March 27, 1918) was an American historian and a member of the Adams political family, descended from two US presidents.

Above: US President John Adams (1735 – 1826)

Above: US President John Quincy Adams (1767 – 1848)

As a young Harvard graduate, he served as secretary to his father, Charles Francis Adams, Abraham Lincoln’s ambassador to the United Kingdom.

Above: US diplomat Charles Francis Adams (1807 – 1886)

The posting influenced the younger man through the experience of wartime diplomacy, and absorption in English culture, especially the works of John Stuart Mill.

Above: English philosopher John Stuart Mill (1806 – 1873)

After the American Civil War, he became a political journalist who entertained America’s foremost intellectuals at his homes in Washington and Boston.

Above: Images of the American Civil War (1861 – 1865)

During his lifetime, he was best known for The History of the United States of America 1801–1817, a nine-volume work, praised for its literary style, command of the documentary evidence, and deep family knowledge of the period and its major figures.

His posthumously published memoir, The Education of Henry Adams, won the Pulitzer Prize and went on to be named by the Modern Library as the best English-language nonfiction book of the 20th century.

The Education of Henry Adams is an autobiography that records the struggle of the Bostonian Henry Adams (1838 – 1918), in his later years, to come to terms with the dawning 20th century, so different from the world of his youth.

It is also a sharp critique of 19th-century educational theory and practice.

In 1907, Adams began privately circulating copies of a limited edition printed at his own expense. 

The Education is more a record of Adams’s introspection and his observations than of his deeds.

It is an extended meditation on the social, technological, political, and intellectual changes that occurred over Adams’s lifetime.

Adams concluded that his traditional education failed to help him come to terms with these rapid changes, hence, his need for self-education.

The organizing thread of the book is how the “proper” schooling and other aspects of his youth was time wasted, thus, his search for self-education through experiences, friendships, and reading.

Many aspects of the contemporary world emerged during the half-century between the Civil War and World War I, a half-century coinciding with Adams’s adult life.

An important theme of The Education is its author’s bewilderment and concern at the rapid advance in science and technology over the course of his lifetime, sometimes now called the Second Industrial Revolution, but incarnated in his term “dynamo“. 

The Education mentions the recent discovery of X-rays and radioactivity.

Above: Hand mit Ringen: print of Wilhelm Röntgen’s (1845 – 1923) first “medical” X-ray, of his wife’s hand, taken on 22 December 1895, presented to the University of Freiburg, on 1 January 1896

Adams shows a familiarity with radio waves in his citation of Marconi and Branly.

Above: Italian engineer Guglielmo Marconi (1874 – 1937)

Above: French physicist Édouard Branly (1844 – 1940)

Adams purchased an automobile as early as 1902, to make better use of a summer in France researching Mont Saint Michel and Chartres.

Adams correctly predicted that the 20th century would have even more explosive changes.

Adams repeatedly laments that his formal education, grounded in the classics, history, and literature, as was then the fashion, did not give him the scientific and mathematical knowledge needed to grasp the scientific breakthroughs of the 1890s and 1900s.

Adams had direct knowledge of many notable events and persons of the 1850 – 1900 period, and much of the text is devoted to giving his views on them.

The text is written as if readers are already familiar with the major figures and events of the time. 

The Education repeatedly mentions two long-standing friends of Adams, the scientific explorer of the American Far West, Clarence King, and the American diplomat, John Milton Hay, who became Secretary of State. 

Above: American geologist Clarence King (1842 – 1901)

Above: US Secretary of State John Hay (1838 – 1905)

The Education is narrated in the third person.

It is frequently sarcastic and humorously self-critical.

The Education does not discuss Adams’s marriage, and the illness and 1885 suicide of his wife, Clover.

It mostly leaves out the periods from 1872 to 1892.

The text does not discuss what this period contributed to his education.

He referred to his marriage indirectly, by for example, lamenting how the memorial he had constructed for his wife had become something of a tourist attraction.

Above: The Adams Memorial, Washington DC

The Education is an important work of American literary nonfiction.

It provides a penetrating glimpse into the intellectual and political life of the late 19th century. 

Learning of this work does make me reflect on how technology and societal changes continue to reshape both personal lives and global landscapes.

Above: Your humble blogger

Further explorations lead me to 1944.

Richard Ford (born February 16, 1944) is an American novelist and short story author, and writer of a series of novels featuring the character Frank Bascombe.

Above: American writer Richard Ford

Ford’s first collection of short stories, Rock Springs, was published in 1987.

In the US, Ford received the 1996 Pulitzer Prize for his novel Independence Day.

His novel Wildlife was adapted into a 2018 film of the same name.

In 2023, Ford published Be Mine, his 5th work of fiction chronicling the life of Frank Bascombe.

I am unsure if I would like Ford as a person.

Ford once sent Alice Hoffman a copy of one of her books with bullet holes in it after she angered him by unfavorably reviewing his The Sportswriter.

Above: American writer Alice Hoffman

In 2004, Ford spat on Colson Whitehead when encountering him at a party two years after Whitehead published a negative review of A Multitude of Sins in The New York Times. 

Thirteen years later, Ford remained unrepentant.

Writing in Esquire in 2017, Ford declared that:

“As of today, I don’t feel any different about Mr. Whitehead, or his review, or my response.“

Above: American author Colson Whitehead

Ford’s writing demonstrates a meticulous concern for the nuances of language and the rhythms of phrases and sentences.

He has described his sense of language as a source of pleasure in itself —- all of its corporeal qualities, its syncopations, moods, sounds, the way things look on the page.

Besides this devotion to language is what he terms “the fabric of affection that holds people close enough together to survive“.

Comparisons have been drawn between Ford’s work and the writings of John Updike, William Faulkner, Ernest Hemingway and Walker Percy.

Above: American writer John Updike (1932 – 2009)

Above: American writer William Faulkner (1897 – 1962)

Above: American writer Ernest Hemingway (1899 – 1961)

Above: American writer Walker Percy (1916 – 1990)

Ford resists such comparisons, commenting:

“You can’t write on the strength of influence.

You can only write a good story or a good novel by yourself.“

Ford’s works of fiction dramatize the breakdown of such cultural institutions as marriage, family, and community and his marginalized protagonists often typify the rootlessness and nameless longing, pervasive in a highly mobile, present-oriented society in which individuals, having lost a sense of the past, relentlessly pursue their own elusive identities in the here and now.

Ford looks to art, rather than religion, to provide consolation and redemption in a chaotic time.

All that may be so, but I am drawn to his short story, “Nothing to Declare“, in particular.

Two former lovers, Sandy McGuinness and Alix, suddenly cross paths after 35 years.

The story examines the limits of memory, and the regrets and discontent that emerge from reexamining life’s inflection points.

“Nothing to Declare” is set in New Orleans during Mardi Gras.

Above: Mardi Gras revellers, New Orleans

The story is narrated in the first-person by male protagonist Sandy McGuinness.

In his mid-50s, McGuinness is an attorney for a firm that insures and finances supertanker operations.

He lives in New Orleans with his wife, Pricilla, and their two teenage children.

Above: New Orleans, Louisiana, USA

At an afternoon business luncheon, McGuinness notices among his tipsy associates an attractive older woman he vaguely recognizes, addressed by the men jocularly as “Miss Nail”.

She had arrived with a client, now departed, and she, too, is intoxicated.

Her glance confirms that she recognizes McGuinness.

Above: Mrs. Erlynne, A Good Woman (2004)

In a brief flashback, McGuinness recalls that he had known her as Barbara when they attended Ithaca 35 years ago in 1981.

Both of them have upper middle class backgrounds:

Her parents were “exotic” artists, his a more conventional family comprising a teacher and a lawyer.

Then both 20-years-of-age, McGuinness was infatuated with Barbara.

They booked a budget flight to Reykjavík for spring break. and enjoyed a sojourn in a sod hut on a remote fiord, making love.

Barbara invents a whimsical genealogy for her family:

Her fictional father is of Navaho ancestry and a blacklisted film director, her mother a French courtesan.

She admits to lesbian affairs.

Each secretly evaluates one another as potential life mates.

Above: Reykjavik, Iceland

Considering a career as a veterinarian, McGuinness takes leave.

Above: Poster from BBC’s All Creatures Great and Small (1978 – 1980 / 1988 – 1990)

Barbara remains on the island to study Icelandic mythical sagas.

Above: Detail of a miniature from a 13th century Icelandic manuscript

She tells him on parting:

“You know, sweetheart, we don’t want anyone else once we know who we are.

It’s a very hard choice to make.” 

McGuinnis dismisses the remark and departs without regret.

McGuinness remains vaguely aware of Barbara’s apparently conventional life trajectory in the ensuing years.

He relegates their Iceland tryst to mere footnotes about an adventure he had with a girl.

The narrative returns to New Orleans.

“Miss Nail” identifies herself as Alix.

Nonetheless, McGuinness admits to himself she is indeed the Barbara of his youth.

Her remarks suggest that she serves an expensive escort for well-heeled clients in the commercial industry.

Above: Helen Hunt, A Good Woman

Alix confesses that she had tracked him to New Orleans, and invites him to take a walk outdoors among the carnival revelers.

Above: Mardi Gras, New Orleans

McGuinnis is loath to admit to himself that he has perhaps thought of Barbara/Alix every day for the past 35 years.

“He had thought about her every single day.

Though he’d thought about many other things as often.

To be thinking about something didn’t mean what people said it meant.“

As they walk, she asks if she may kiss him, and McGuinness declines.

Their small talk is laden with innuendo and regret.

“They were at the great river now, where the air expanded and went outward, floated up and away in a limitless moment before returning to the vast, curving, mythical, lusterless flood.“

Above: Mississippi River, New Orleans, Louisiana

Rather than accept Barbara’s invitation to her hotel suite, McGuinnis dutifully departs for a scheduled rendezvous with his wife Pricilla.

Above: American actress Helen Hunt

Richard Ford’s Nothing to Declare is a modern short story that explores the complexities of identity, human frailty, and emotional vulnerability.

It’s a quiet reflection on personal experience, with a focus on individual memory and the passage of time.

The tone is reflective and at times melancholic, as the narrator ruminates on his life and experiences, often feeling disconnected from the larger world around him.

The theme of self-discovery and the confusion of relationships subtly permeates the story.

An examination of the “missed chances and what-ifs” inherent in life, “Nothing to Declare” ends where it begins, without any satisfactory resolution to the encounter between Sandy and Alix.

The story’s scope becomes an elegant portrayal of memory and desire.

The story is drenched in retrospection, where the protagonists take the measure of old regrets and sample rancor that has lost its bitterness with time.

This is a story about the death of stories.

In Nothing to Declare, Ford’s protagonist is a middle-aged man reflecting on his past and present.

The focus is on his introspection, emotional state, and how he engages with his memories of a past relationship.

His is a quiet journey of self-awareness, and the reader is invited to see the world through his eyes, which are steeped in regret, self-doubt, and yearning.

The character’s internal landscape is more pronounced than his external actions.

Ford’s work is set in an American context, where the concerns of the protagonist revolve around personal identity and emotional isolation.

The setting reflects a modern, often disaffected world where individuals grapple with existential questions.

The story deals less with societal issues and more with the personal struggles of the narrator, reflecting Ford’s typical focus on inner landscapes and personal dilemmas.

Ford uses a first-person narrative in Nothing to Declare, giving the story an intimate feel.

The story is more reflective, filled with observations about life, relationships, and the internal monologue of the protagonist.

The writing is precise and minimalist, with much of the story’s emotional weight coming from subtle shifts in tone and perspective.

In Nothing to Declare, the title itself is symbolic.

The protagonist feels that he has nothing left to give or declare, reflecting his inner emptiness and emotional distance.

Ford subtly uses moments of dialogue and imagery to illustrate the broader theme of isolation and disconnection.

In Nothing to Declare, Ford’s narrator is reflecting on a past relationship, which might be seen as an attempt to understand his former partner and, more broadly, women.

His introspection and personal failings suggest a man grappling with the mysteries of a woman’s inner life, even though the story centers more on his own emotional landscape.

In a sense, Ford is trying to make sense of a woman he once knew, but he’s still unsure of his own understanding of her.

Barbara’s decision to become a courtesan, despite the narrator’s belief that she once offered him love, seems to reflect a profound internal conflict between personal freedom and societal expectations, as well as the complexity of human desires.

In the context of Ford’s narrative, Barbara’s choice is not simply about seeking love or companionship.

It’s about asserting her autonomy and rejecting the conventional roles that might have been prescribed to her in a more traditional romantic relationship.

In a way, Barbara seems to be making a conscious decision to redefine herself outside the boundaries of the narrator’s idealization of her.

The narrator, in retrospect, sees her as a woman he could have loved, yet she remains an enigma to him, just as her decision to become a courtesan may be an enigma to the reader.

The choice of this profession could be interpreted as a form of self-determination — a way for Barbara to regain control over her body and her emotions in a world that often constrains women’s freedom of expression.

Her shift from being someone who once offered love to someone who becomes a courtesan could reflect a rejection of the conventional paths open to women (wife, mother, lover).

It also speaks to the complexities of love itself — how the need for independence, power, and agency can sometimes conflict with the vulnerability and attachment that romantic love often requires.

Barbara’s decision doesn’t suggest a lack of love but rather an attempt to redefine what love means for her, making it something less conventional, less idealized, and more grounded in her own terms.

Perhaps Ford is highlighting the difficulty of defining women by the roles men (or society) expect them to play.

Barbara’s choice to become a courtesan reflects an attempt to assert control over her emotional and physical self, rejecting the conventional roles that might limit her freedom.

She seeks independence, but this comes at the expense of a romantic ideal — an ideal that the narrator may have projected onto her.

It’s a nuanced form of self-determination, though it may seem cold or even self-destructive.

Leskov and Ford have left me pondering a number of questions.

Is a woman’s landscape more challenging than a man’s?

The psychological, social, and emotional landscape for women has, for centuries, been influenced by complex factors that have often made it more challenging than for men, particularly in societies with rigid gender roles.

However, whether it is more challenging than a man’s depends on various factors, including the culture, time period, social class, and individual circumstances.

Women have historically been expected to fulfill certain roles —caregiver, nurturer, homemaker, and so on.

These roles are not only limited but often undervalued, leading to challenges in pursuing careers, personal ambitions, or autonomy.

Even in contemporary society, many women face pressures to balance their personal and professional lives, often carrying a disproportionate burden of domestic labor or childcare, regardless of their professional success.

Women, more so than men, have faced and still face systemic discrimination in many parts of the world.

This can manifest in wage disparities, limitations in career advancement, lack of access to leadership positions, and even harassment or violence.

Even in progressive societies, the structural inequalities persist, making a woman’s journey to self-actualization sometimes more difficult than a man’s.

Women often face immense pressure to conform to certain beauty standards that are imposed by society, the media, and advertising.

This focus on appearance can detract from the development of other aspects of identity, such as intelligence, creativity, or professional competence.

The emphasis on women’s bodies as objects of desire can leave little room for them to define their worth independently of how they are perceived by others.

In many societies, women are expected to be emotionally available and nurturing, taking on a disproportionate amount of emotional labor in relationships, families, and communities.

This burden of emotional labor can be draining and often goes unacknowledged or unrewarded.

The emotional landscape for women can be more complex, given the need to maintain relationships and fulfill the emotional needs of others, even at the cost of their own well-being.

That being said, men also face their own unique set of challenges, many of which are shaped by traditional masculine roles that stress stoicism, independence, and strength.

Men, too, can be deeply affected by societal expectations, and the pressure to conform to certain ideals of masculinity can lead to mental health struggles, a lack of emotional expression, and relational difficulties.

So, while women’s landscapes may have historically been more constrained or challenging in certain ways, men’s landscapes are not without their own set of difficulties.

It’s important to recognize that the challenges faced by individuals are often a reflection of the roles and expectations dictated by society, rather than an inherent difference between genders.

I ponder another question:

Are women still taught to define their worth by their relationships with men?

Unfortunately, in many cultures and societies, women are still taught to define their worth, at least in part, by their relationships with men.

This is often a deeply ingrained cultural pattern that has been perpetuated through centuries, although there has been significant progress, particularly in recent decades.

However, societal pressures can still subtly or overtly teach women that their value is connected to romantic relationships, marriage, and motherhood.

In many cultures, a woman’s happiness or fulfillment is often depicted as contingent upon finding a “soulmate” or romantic partner.

This narrative is perpetuated in films, literature, and advertisements, which emphasize love as a woman’s ultimate goal.

The idea of “happily ever after” can implicitly suggest that a woman’s worth is validated by her romantic success.

In many societies, there’s an implicit or explicit expectation that women will marry and have children.

This can be particularly pervasive in cultures where a woman’s identity is tied to her role as a wife and mother.

A woman who chooses to remain single or childless, or who does not conform to these roles, may face societal pressure or judgment.

There are even instances where a woman’s personal achievements are downplayed if she is not seen in relation to a male partner or children.

The objectification of women’s bodies through the male gaze continues to influence how women view themselves.

Advertisements, media, and social platforms often reduce women to their physical appearance, emphasizing beauty as a form of value.

The message that a woman’s worth is inextricably tied to her looks, and how men perceive her, still pervades much of popular culture.

This focus on appearance can make it difficult for women to build self-worth based on inner qualities, accomplishments, or intellectual abilities.

Many institutions, from religion to law to workplace norms, have historically reinforced the idea that women’s lives should revolve around their relationships with men, whether as daughters, wives, or mothers.

Even though many women today are carving out their own identities and achieving independence, there are still subtle (or not-so-subtle) messages from society, family, and even romantic partners that suggest a woman’s value is diminished if she is not in a relationship with a man.

However, the idea that a woman’s worth should only be defined through her relationship to men is being actively challenged in many parts of the world.

Feminist movements, in particular, have played a key role in redefining women’s identities, emphasizing that a woman’s worth is inherent and not dependent on her relationship to men. More women today are embracing self-love, personal ambition, and individual fulfillment as primary sources of self-worth, which is a welcome shift.

The rise of powerful female role models, both in public life and in everyday communities, further challenges traditional narratives that have held women’s worth hostage to their relationships with men.

Can a man help in a woman’s self-development?

Maybe yes…

Perhaps a man can help a woman with her own sense of self-worth, but it’s important that this assistance comes from a place of respect, understanding, and equality, rather than reinforcement of traditional or stereotypical gender roles.

In a healthy, supportive relationship, whether romantic, familial, or platonic, a man can play a positive role in encouraging a woman to recognize and embrace her intrinsic value, independent of external validation.

A man can offer encouragement, recognizing and affirming her strengths, achievements, and individuality.

This can help a woman feel validated and appreciated for who she is, rather than for her role in relation to others (e.g., as a partner, mother, or caretaker).

A man can encourage a woman to pursue her passions, career goals, and personal interests, supporting her in building an identity that is not dependent on her relationship with him.

This can involve helping her to cultivate her own ambitions and self-sufficiency, empowering her to feel confident in her decisions and choices.

By respecting her autonomy and her decisions, a man shows that he values her as an equal.

This respect encourages a woman to trust her own judgment and see her own worth as independent of others’ opinions, including his.

A relationship that fosters mutual respect can make both partners feel empowered and supported in their growth.

A man who listens attentively and empathizes with her thoughts, feelings, and struggles can help a woman gain clarity about her own self-worth.

Active listening makes her feel understood and valued for her emotions, rather than dismissed or judged.

Sometimes, women (and men) may struggle with negative self-talk or a lack of self-compassion.

A man who gently challenges this mindset — helping her see her own beauty, intelligence, and strength — can have a positive impact on her sense of self-worth.

This can be particularly effective when the man’s approach is non-judgmental and focused on reinforcing her inner value.

A man who demonstrates his own self-respect, confidence, and healthy boundaries can be a model for a woman.

By seeing how he values himself and others, she may be inspired to apply similar practices in her own life.

A man who maintains his own identity and takes care of his emotional well-being can provide a healthy framework for how she can do the same.

A key element in any relationship is feeling safe and supported, which is foundational for someone to build their own sense of self-worth.

When a man creates an environment of love, trust, and safety, it can enable the woman to explore her own needs, desires, and potential without fear of judgment or rejection.

A man who encourages a woman to reflect on her experiences, values, and goals can help her on a journey of self-discovery.

Sometimes, simply having someone who believes in her potential —without trying to dictate what she should do — can help a woman uncover her strengths and define her worth on her own terms.

Self-worth must be cultivated from within.

While external support can be incredibly helpful, true self-worth ultimately comes from within.

A man’s role is not to define her self-worth but to help her see and appreciate it herself.

It’s crucial that a man’s support doesn’t foster dependency, where the woman feels that her worth is dependent on the man’s approval.

Rather, the aim is to empower her to see herself as valuable on her own.

Support for self-worth should always be reciprocal in healthy relationships.

Men, too, must be supported and empowered to understand and value their own worth.

Both partners should have space for personal growth.

While a man can help a woman with her sense of self-worth, the most important thing is that the relationship is built on mutual respect and empowerment.

In this context, both individuals can help each other to grow and thrive as whole, independent people.

Perhaps no….

Often, the most empowering thing a man can do in a relationship —especially one where a woman is struggling with her sense of self-worth — is to give her the freedom to explore her needs and identity independently of him.

This idea of freedom is not about physical distance or abandonment, but rather about emotional and psychological autonomy.

In a healthy relationship, freedom allows both partners to grow as individuals, without feeling defined or limited by the other person’s expectations, needs, or desires.

This freedom can be liberating, enabling each person to discover who they truly are and what they truly want, separate from their roles in a partnership.

When a woman is given the space to explore her needs and desires without the constraints of defining herself in relation to a man, she can experience self-discovery.

She may have the chance to explore her passions, work on personal projects, or simply spend time reflecting on her own identity.

This process fosters self-reliance, confidence, and the ability to define her worth on her own terms.

Freedom in a relationship doesn’t mean emotional abandonment.

It means recognizing that each person is whole and valuable on their own.

When a man supports his partner’s autonomy, it shifts the dynamic from dependency to equality.

Both partners are allowed to nurture their individual identities, creating a more balanced relationship where both feel equally valued and respected.

If a woman feels that she can freely pursue her personal goals without worrying about the impact on her relationship, it can reduce feelings of pressure or obligation.

It allows her to feel more secure in her relationship because she knows that her partner respects her independence.

This can lead to a deeper sense of trust between both partners.

Sometimes in relationships, especially ones where self-worth is overly tied to the other person, one partner might lose sight of their own identity.

Giving a woman the space to explore her life independently can prevent this.

She doesn’t become “lost” in the relationship.

Instead, she becomes more fully herself.

A man who encourages this kind of freedom is actively supporting her growth as an individual, not just as part of the partnership.

Freedom is empowering.

When a woman has the ability to act in alignment with her own values, dreams, and goals, she feels more empowered.

This empowerment is not reliant on external approval (including from her partner) but is something that comes from within.

A man who respects and encourages her autonomy helps her realize her own power and worth, which is a deeply transformative experience.

A man can give emotional space for his partner to process her thoughts and feelings.

This might mean stepping back when she needs time alone to reflect, and not pressuring her for answers or validation.

He can actively encourage her to pursue her goals, whether they be career-related, artistic, intellectual, or personal.

For instance, if she wants to travel, take on a new hobby, or study something, he should be supportive of those decisions.

A man might gently encourage his partner to explore her own desires and needs outside of the relationship.

For example, he might say:

“I want you to feel free to discover what makes you happy, even if that means spending time apart.”

This shows respect for her independence and self-worth.

Instead of guiding or controlling her choices, a man should trust his partner to make decisions that align with her own needs and desires.

He should trust that, by nurturing her independence, the relationship will become stronger and more genuine.

While giving freedom is vital, it must be balanced with an ongoing commitment to the relationship itself.

It’s important that both partners understand that autonomy doesn’t mean emotional distance or disengagement.

Rather, it’s about respecting each other’s individual journeys while still providing mutual support, love and care.

In this dynamic, both partners are able to thrive as individuals, which can actually bring them closer, as they share not just a relationship but also a shared respect for each other’s growth.

Yes, the best solution, in many cases, is for a man to give a woman the freedom to explore her own needs and sense of self-worth without the confines of the relationship defining her.

This kind of emotional freedom is empowering and can help both partners become more whole individuals, allowing them to come together in a way that is based on mutual respect and understanding, rather than dependency.

This approach acknowledges that a woman’s worth is not defined by the relationship but by her own strength, autonomy, and self-love.

It’s a powerful, respectful choice that can lead to personal growth for both partners in the long run.

There is a valid concern and one that touches on the complexities of relationships, autonomy, and self-discovery.

The dynamic involves a delicate balance:

When one person is given the freedom to explore their own identity and autonomy, there is a risk that this newfound independence could lead them to reevaluate their relationship with the person who granted that freedom — especially if they discovers that the personal journey involves moving away from the partnership.

As a person becomes more self-reliant, they often gain greater clarity about their own needs, desires, and values.

In the process of this self-discovery, they may realize that their current relationship no longer aligns with their personal growth.

This can happen because they have learned to prioritize their own autonomy and individual needs over the dynamics that existed in the partnership.

The freedom to explore may lead to a shift in perspective on what they want from a relationship.

If a person becomes more emotionally self-sufficient and secure in her identity, they may no longer feel the same attachment to their partner as they once did.

This emotional independence can sometimes lead to a reevaluation of the relationship.

They may find that, although the relationship provided comfort and security at one time, it no longer serves their needs or allow them to continue growing in the ways they desire.

Sometimes, a person’s journey toward autonomy can stem from a fear of losing their identity within the relationship.

If a person begins to feel that the relationship has stifled their growth or that they have been too defined by their role in the relationship, they may begin to distance him/herself in order to preserve a sense of self.

In doing so, there’s a risk that the relationship may weaken or even end.

Some relationships are based on the illusion that one partner “completes” the other.

When a person starts to see him/herself as whole and capable without the need for the other person to define their worth, they may recognize that they don’t need that relationship to feel complete.

This newfound realization might make a person question the purpose or future of the partnership.

On the other hand, the act of granting freedom can also lead to a deeper, more authentic connection between partners.

When a man gives a woman the space to be herself, without trying to control or define her, it can lead to mutual respect and admiration.

A relationship built on this kind of trust and freedom can become stronger because both individuals feel valued for who they are as individuals, not just as part of a unit.

In this scenario, her growth and self-discovery would not necessarily lead to rejection but rather to a more evolved partnership.

If both partners are committed to personal growth and mutual respect, the freedom granted can actually create room for the relationship to evolve in new and exciting ways.

She may discover her own passions, dreams, and desires, and instead of leaving the relationship, she might feel more equipped to contribute to it in a way that feels true to herself.

Relationships that allow both partners to grow individually tend to have stronger foundations, as the bond is not based on dependency but on mutual admiration for each other’s individuality.

Open communication about each person’s needs, growth, and goals can help ensure that freedom does not result in disconnection.

If both partners are clear about their desires for personal growth and can discuss how to balance their individual journeys with the needs of the relationship, they can navigate this process together.

The woman’s self-reliance may not threaten the relationship if both parties are on the same page about the value of mutual support and respect.

One key element to consider is that independence in a relationship doesn’t necessarily mean emotional or physical separation.

A woman might choose to explore her own identity and needs, but that doesn’t have to come at the cost of her connection with the man who respects her journey.

In fact, this process can often lead to greater emotional intimacy, as both partners are allowed to grow into more complete versions of themselves.

The essential factor here is mutual respect and understanding.

If a man respects a woman’s independence and encourages her self-reliance, he should also be prepared for the possibility that her journey might take her in unexpected directions.

This requires emotional maturity and the understanding that, while the relationship may face challenges during this period of self-discovery, it doesn’t have to end.

The relationship might evolve as a result of her growth, with both partners redefining their roles.

However, if the man feels threatened by her newfound independence or sees it as a rejection of him, it could create a rift.

This is why the key lies in a commitment to ongoing communication about needs, desires, and how both partners can support each other while growing as individuals.

Yes, there is certainly a risk that a woman’s journey toward self-reliance and independence could lead to the reevaluation or even the end of the relationship.

However, this outcome isn’t inevitable.

The relationship has the potential to grow stronger when both partners respect each other’s autonomy and support one another’s personal growth.

The best solution is for both individuals to maintain open dialogue, be emotionally mature, and understand that supporting each other’s freedom does not necessarily lead to separation — it can, in fact, deepen the bond if both people are willing to grow together in new ways.

I feel that I may have touched on something profound in both The Amazon and the character of the courtesan in Nothing to Declare:

The tension between freedom and intimacy, and how, for these women, the pursuit of independence ultimately leads them back to a yearning for connection and love.

In both cases, their search for self-discovery and autonomy does not result in the fulfillment they anticipated.

Instead, they are confronted with the profound desire for intimacy, something they cannot escape despite their efforts to define themselves outside of these relationships.

The Amazon, in her quest for autonomy and self-reliance, initially rejects the idea of love and embraces a life of independence.

However, her dissatisfaction grows as she realizes that her life, while free from dependence on a man, is also empty of emotional connection.

She becomes painfully aware of the absence of love, and this void starts to consume her.

In essence, her freedom — which she thought would be liberating — is exposed as incomplete because it does not fulfill her emotional and intimate needs.

Her eventual pining for a lover signals that, despite her best efforts to cultivate autonomy, she is still deeply human in her need for connection and affection.

Similarly, the courtesan, who seemingly chooses freedom and self-sufficiency, makes the choice to not follow her lover and instead embrace a different path.

Years later, despite the experiences she gains in her independence, she finds herself haunted by the memory of love — not just any love, but a love she consciously walked away from.

Her search for him later on is not simply an attempt to rekindle the past, but a recognition that in her pursuit of autonomy, she sacrificed something that, to her, now feels irreplaceable.

Like the Amazon, the freedom she sought tastes hollow without the intimacy and connection she once had.

I wouldn’t necessarily frame the desire for intimacy as a weakness, but rather as a fundamental aspect of the human experience — one that transcends gender.

In both The Amazon and the courtesan’s stories, the women’s longing for love and connection seems to challenge the notion that freedom from dependency equates to ultimate fulfillment.

Intimacy, love, and emotional connection are not weaknesses, but core needs that form a part of what it means to be human.

The reason these women’s freedom tastes like ashes is because they attempt to sever the emotional and relational aspects of their lives — attempting to escape dependency, to be independent and self-reliant — without fully reckoning with the deeper, more existential need for human connection.

Their journey shows that the emotional and intimate dimensions of life are not optional or dispensable.

They are intertwined with the fabric of who we are.

For both the Amazon and the courtesan, it’s the absence of love that causes suffering, not the desire for intimacy itself.

The desire for love, connection, and intimacy is often linked to a deeper existential need for meaning and belonging.

A person — whether man or woman — cannot fully thrive in isolation, even if they gain external freedom.

For women like the Amazon and the courtesan, their desires for intimacy become part of their identity, reflecting a deeper human truth: we cannot fully know or define ourselves without the other.

In their respective stories, they experience the tension between independence and intimacy, and neither fulfills the other.

Rather than seeing the search for love as a weakness, it might be better understood as the complex interplay between freedom and human connection.

While freedom offers autonomy and self-discovery, it also demands vulnerability — the vulnerability to allow another person into our lives, to risk loving and being loved.

In the case of both women, their story suggests that freedom without intimacy may lead to an existential emptiness, and intimacy without freedom can feel like entrapment.

A balance between the two — the ability to be emotionally autonomous but also open to deep connection — seems to be the ideal that these women, in their respective ways, ultimately seek.

This isn’t confined to women alone.

We all, as human beings, seek meaning, connection, and love in a world that often prizes independence, self-sufficiency, and personal achievement.

For the Amazon and the courtesan, their journeys reflect the universal struggle of reconciling the desire for personal freedom with the fundamental need for love and belonging.

No, the need for intimacy is not a weakness, but rather an essential part of being human.

The Amazon and the courtesan’s stories reflect how self-reliance and intimacy are not mutually exclusive, but rather deeply intertwined in our search for fulfillment.

Their longing for love, once freedom has been tasted, demonstrates the inevitable interdependence of these needs. Intimacy, when pursued alongside autonomy, becomes not a weakness, but a source of strength and fulfillment — enriching one’s self-discovery and connection to the world.

The exploration of the past – Tut’s tomb, The Education, The Amazon and Nothing to Declare – call to mind a story:

The city hums beneath a sky so blue it almost feels like an illusion.

He steps off the bus into the warm embrace of a Montréal summer, the kind that makes the past feel closer than it should.

He has not seen her in years, yet when she waves from across the street, it is as if no time has passed at all.

She is waiting for him outside a café, her expression unreadable behind oversized sunglasses.

He hesitates, then moves toward her, his towering frame casting a long shadow over the sidewalk.

“You look good“, she says, appraising him with the same quiet intensity that used to make him fidget.

“So do you“, he answers, though he knows she never quite believed compliments.

He wonders if she sees herself the way he does — someone both strong and fragile, someone who moves through the world with a quiet ache beneath her skin.

They slip into an easy rhythm, talking about inconsequential things — work, books, the city — until the weight of their history presses in.

He doesn’t mention how often he has thought of her, or how he still measures love by the way she once looked at him.

She doesn’t mention the scars beneath her sleeves.

They wander through the Just for Laughs Museum, laughing at old routines and forgotten comedians.

She runs her fingers along a stack of folded T-shirts at the gift shop, and he impulsively buys her one — green and white, with “Just for Laughs University” on the front and “Dropout” emblazoned on the back.

She grins at the joke, but he notices the flicker of sadness behind her eyes.

Above: Victor, the Just for Laughs mascot

As the sun dips lower, she invites him back to her flat.

He hesitates but follows.

The air inside is cool, almost stifling, a stark contrast to the golden warmth of the day.

Books and papers are scattered across the small space.

On the table, a copy of Richard Ford’s Nothing to Declare, Nikolai Leskov’s The Amazon, and The Education of Henry Adams lie in a careless stack.

“Impulse buys“, she says, seeing his gaze linger.

“Or maybe not.“

She picks up The Education of Henry Adams, running her fingers over the worn spine.

“He spent his life trying to understand history,” she murmurs, “only to realize, too late, that it had already shaped him.“

“And you?” he asks.

She doesn’t answer.

Instead, she moves to a shelf and pulls down another book.

It is a thick, dust-covered volume on Tutankhamun’s tomb.

She flips through the pages absentmindedly.

“Buried beneath centuries“, she whispers.

“Sealed away like it was never meant to be found.

But we dig anyway.“

They sit on the worn-out couch, the conversation slowing into something quieter, heavier.

He realizes this is the first time they have ever been truly alone together without the weight of school, of expectations, of futures not yet unraveled.

And then, somehow, it happens.

The walls between them dissolve.

For the first time, and the last, they make love.

Afterward, she speaks in the darkness.

“I cut myself.”, she whispers, her voice brittle.

“I have for years.”

He doesn’t know what to say.

He wants to tell her that she is beautiful, that she is loved, that she doesn’t need to hurt herself to feel something.

But the words catch in his throat, and he feels suddenly, terribly small.

Tears come before he can stop them.

“I can’t help you.”, he says hoarsely.

“I don’t even know how to help myself.”

She doesn’t try to comfort him.

She only watches as he stumbles toward the door, unable to bear the weight of his own helplessness.

He doesn’t look back.

A few days later, a package arrives.

Inside is the T-shirt he bought her, neatly folded.

He lifts it, unfolding it carefully, and sees a stain — dark, dried blood near the hem.

She had used it as a tourniquet.

He does not know what to do with this knowledge.

He does not know if she had meant to send him a message or if she simply wanted him to remember her this way — real, flawed, and beyond saving.

Outside, the world is still bright.

The sky is still blue.

But he feels like he has stepped into another season altogether.

Above: The Just for Laughs Museum (French: Muséé Juste pour rire) was a Canadian museum that opened in 1993, dedicated to humour (mainly stand-up comedy) located in Montréal, Québec.

The museum closed in 2011. 

It had been visited by more than two million people since its opening.

The Just for Laughs Museum was created by Gilbert Rozon, founder of the Just for Laughs festival in the same city 10 years earlier.

Opened in 1993, the museum was a venue for all things funny with displays, exhibitions, and a multi-functional space for the presentation of public, private or professional events.

The museum was located at 2111, boulevard Saint Laurent (2111, Saint Laurent Boulevard), Montréal.

Perhaps coincidentally, St-Laurent is the French name of Lawrence of Rome, the patron saint of comedians.

If I could save time in a bottle
The first thing that I’d like to do
Is to save every day
‘Til eternity passes away
Just to spend them with you

If I could make days last forever
If words could make wishes come true
I’d save every day like a treasure and then
Again, I would spend them with you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I’ve looked around enough to know
That you’re the one I want to go
Through time with

If I had a box just for wishes
And dreams that had never come true
The box would be empty
Except for the memory
Of how they were answered by you

But there never seems to be enough time
To do the things you want to do
Once you find them
I’ve looked around enough to know
That you’re the one I want to go
Through time with

Sometimes words are like tears.

Sometimes they quietly emerge from out of the corners of our perception.

At other times they pour out of us like the torrent of my rushing river.

And there are times when they cannot flow.