One of the saddest things about writing is how it can seem to matter so little with the passage of time. You can be a great novelist or historian in your era, but the bookshelves of history only have so much room. That ephemeral sense is even more bitter with journalism–how many billions of words have been toiled over, only to be forgotten as soon as the paper hit the trash? One thing I want to do with this newsletter from time to time is spotlight travel writing from the past. Given how much the world is starting to look similar, there’s something especially poignant about journeys in a time when everything was startlingly foreign.
This week I’m featuring a section of the poet, novelist, diplomat, and travel writer Bayard Taylor’s1 best-selling travelogue to Africa which was published in 1857. Taylor was a titan of American letters in the mid-19th century–his wildly successful travel stories took readers all over Africa, Asia, Europe, the Middle East, the West, and more. Though straight, he also wrote what is now considered the first American gay novel–Joseph and His Friend: A Story of Pennsylvania–which is believed to be inspired by the lives of American poets Fitz-Greene Halleck and Joseph Rodman Drake. Taylor’s travel writing is a window into another time (unsurprisingly, he had some of the biases and prejudices of his time) and this one focuses on seeing Karnak in Egypt for the first time.
I visited Egypt two years ago and found myself absolutely flummoxed by the monumentality of the temples in Luxor. I will leave the descriptions to Taylor, but I hope you’ll get to experience it someday for yourself. As Taylor himself says: “It is the greatest good luck of travel that many things must be seen to be known.”
And now we galloped forward, through a long procession of camels, donkeys and desert Arabs armed with spears, towards Karnak, the greatest ruin in the world, the crowning triumph of Egyptian power and Egyptian art.
Except a broken stone here and there protruding through the soil, the plain is as desolate as if it had never been conscious of a human dwelling, and only on reaching the vicinity of the mud hamlet of Karnak can the traveler realize that he is at Thebes. Here the camel path drops into a broad excavated avenue, lined with fragments of sphinxes and shaded by starving acacias.
As you advance the sphinxes are better preserved and remain seated on their pedestals, but they have all been decapitated. Though of colossal proportions, they are seated so close to each other that it must have required nearly two thousand to form the double row to Luxor. The avenue finally reaches a single pylon of majestic proportions, built by one of the Ptolemies, and covered with profuse hieroglyphics.
Passing through this, the sphinxes lead you to another pylon, followed by a pillared court and a temple built by the later Ramesides. This, I thought, while my friend was measuring the girth of the pillars, is a good beginning for Karnak, but it is certainly much less than I expected. "Taal min hennee!" (come this way!) called the guide, as if reading my mind, and led me up the heaps of rubbish to the roof and pointed to the north.
Ah, there was Karnak! Had I been blind up to this time, or had the earth suddenly heaved out of her breast the remains of the glorious temple? From all parts of the plain of Thebes I had seen it in the distance—a huge propylon, a shattered portico and an obelisk, rising above the palms. Whence this wilderness of ruins, spreading so far as to seem a city rather than a temple-pylon after pylon, tumbling into enormous cubes of stone, long colonnades, supporting fragments of titanic roofs, obelisks of red granite and endless walls and avenues, branching out of isolated portals?
Yet they had stood as silently amid the accumulated rubbish of nearly four thousand years, and the sunshine threw its yellow luster as serenely over the despoiled sanctuaries as if it had never been otherwise since the world began.
Figures are of no use in describing a place like this; but since I must use them I may say that the length of the ruins before us, from west to east, was twelve hundred feet, and that the total circumference of Karnak, including its numerous pylae, or gateways, is a mile and a half.
We mounted and rode with fast-beating hearts to the western, or main entrance, facing the Nile. The two towers of the propylon–pyramidal masses of solid stone–are three hundred and twenty-nine feet in length, and the one which is least ruined is nearly one hundred feet in height. On each side of the sculptured portal connecting them is a tablet left by the French army, recording the geographical position of the principal Egyptian temples.
We passed through and entered an open court, more than three hundred feet square, with a corridor of immense pillars on each side, connecting it with the towers of a second pylon nearly as gigantic as the first. A colonnade of lofty shafts, leading through the center of the court, once united the two entrances, but they have all been hurled down and lay as they fell, in long lines of disjointed blocks, except one, which holds its solitary lotus-bell against the sky.
Two mutilated colossi of red granite still guard the doorway, whose lintel-stones are forty feet in length. Climbing over the huge fragments which have fallen from above and almost blocked up the passage, we looked down into the grand hall of the temple.
I knew the dimensions of this hall beforehand; I knew the number and size of the pillars, but I was no more prepared for the reality than those will be who may read this account of it and afterward visit Karnak for themselves.
It is the greatest good luck of travel that many things must be seen to be known.
Nothing could have compensated for the loss of overwhelming confusion of awe, astonishment and delight which came upon me like a flood. I looked down an avenue of twelve pillars–six on each side–each of which was thirty-six feet in circumference and nearly eighty feet in height. Crushing as were these ponderous masses of sculptured stone, the spreading bell of the lotus blossoms which crowned them clothed them with an atmosphere of lightness and grace.
In front, over the top of another pile of colossal blocks, two obelisks rose sharp and clear, with every emblem legible on their polished sides. On each side of the main aisle are seven other rows of columns–one hundred and twenty-two in all– each of which is about fifty feet high and twenty-seven in circumference. They have the Osiride form, without capitals, and do not range with the central shafts. In the efforts of the conquerors to overthrow them, two have been hurled from their places and thrown against the neighboring ones, where they still lean as if weary of holding the roof of massive sandstone.
I walked alone through this hall, trying to bear the weight of its unutterable majesty and beauty. That I had been so oppressed by Dendera seemed a weakness which I was resolved to conquer, and I finally succeeded in looking on Karnak with a calmness more commensurate with its sublime repose–but not by daylight.
My ride back to Luxor, toward evening, was the next best thing after Karnak.
The little animal I rode had become excited by jumping over stones and sliding down sand-heaps. Our guide began to show his Bedouin blood by dashing at full gallop toward the pylons and reining in his horse at a bound; and, to conclude, I became infected with a lawless spirit that could not easily be laid.
The guide's eyes sparkled when I proposed a race.
We left my friend and the water-carriers, bounded across the avenue of sphinxes and took a smooth path leading toward the desert. My mare needed but a word and a jog of the iron stirrup.
Away we flew, our animals stretching themselves for a long heat, crashing the dry dourra stalks, clearing the water ditches and scattering on all sides the Arab laborers we met. After a glorious gallop of two or three miles my antagonist was fairly distanced; but one race would not content him, so we had a second, and finally a third, on the beach of Luxor. The horses belonged to him, and it was a matter of indifference which was the swiftest; he raced merely for the delight of it, and so did I.
The same gallant mare was ready for me at night. It was precisely full moon, and I had determined on visiting Karnak again before leaving.
There was no one but the guide and I; he armed with his long spear and I with my pistols in my belt. There was a wan haze in the air and a pale halo around the moon, on each side of which appeared two faint mock moons. It was a ghostly light, and the fresh north wind, coming up the Nile, rustled solemnly in the palm trees. We trotted silently to Karnak, and leaped our horses over the fragments until we reached the foot of the first obelisk. Here we dismounted and entered the grand hall of pillars.
There was no sound in all the temple, and the guide, who seemed to comprehend my wish, moved behind me as softly as a shadow and spoke not a word. It needs this illumination to comprehend Karnak.
The unsightly rubbish has disappeared; the rents in the roof are atoned for by the moonlight they admit; the fragments shivered from the lips of the mighty capitals are only the crumpled edges of the tower; a maze of shadows hides the desolation of the courts, but every pillar and obelisk, pylon and propylon is glorified by the moonlight. The soul of Karnak is soothed and tranquilized. Its halls look upon you no longer with an aspect of pain and humiliation.
Every stone seems to say: "I am not fallen, for I have defied the ages. I am a part of the grandeur which has never seen its peer, and I shall endure forever, for the world has need of me."
I climbed to the roof and sat looking down into the hushed and awful colonnades till I was thoroughly penetrated with their august and sublime expression.
I should probably have remained all night, an amateur colossus, with my hands on my knees, had not the silence been disturbed by two arrivals of romantic tourists–an Englishman and two Frenchmen. We exchanged salutations, and I mounted the restless mare again, touched her side with the stirrup, and sped back to Luxor.
The guide galloped beside me, occasionally hurling his spear into the air and
and catching it as it fell, delighted with my readiness to indulge his desert whims. I found the captain and sailors all ready and my friend smoking his pipe on deck. In half an hour we had left Thebes.
DEPARTMENT OF GRIEVANCES
MY BRAIN NEARLY EXPLODED reading this local news story from D.C. about a university professor who claims his research shows that the “stand right, walk left” rule of going up escalators on public transportation is inefficient. I love traveling, but the whole “it’s the journey that matters” is claptrap. I do not enjoy going from point A to point B. I like being in point B. So, few things are more aggravating–or more likely to make you look like a country mouse–than standing and blocking the whole escalator. I do not care if, as this professor claims, it leads to the left being underutilized. Get out of the way!
AT SOME POINT, the ferocious appetites of the big hotel groups to acquire loyalty and new customers by buying it will break one of them. But they show no signs of slowing down as it came out that Hyatt is pursuing Standard Hotels. The reported reason is that all the big hotel groups crave “luxury lifestyle” boutique hotels. Call it Edition-envy. Yet Hyatt already owns Andaz, Thompson, Dream, Unbound by Hyatt, and Destination by Hyatt. (The last two I have always found strange, ill-defined, and don’t know anybody who actively searched them out when booking.) Why not make the ones it already has better or bigger?
The Standard itself is in the news. The brand is launching a luxury hotel concept this fall. Called “The Manner” (yes, you read that right. What?!) its first outpost will be in Soho in NYC. This is the second big move of late for the group. Also opening in August (after delays) is the company’s first of what I would call the “basic economy” version of their hotels, StandardX. "Hospitality without pretension” is how it’s billed and the first is in Melbourne. To my eye its plan is that currently used by Generator and MamaShelter–bare bones rooms but “cool” public spaces that make the hotel fun for young people.
SPEAKING OF “BASIC,” Delta was cornered on its most recent earnings call and admitted that it’s been discussing the possibility of a “basic business” fare. Some airlines like Qatar already do this, but essentially it could be offering a reduced business class fare and unbundling the perks that come with it–maybe passengers lose lounge access or the business class meals. The airline said it doesn’t have more to say at the moment, but will have more to say at their investor day.
THE NEW DIRECTOR of the British Museum, Nicholas Cullinan, is taking on the thorniest issue facing a lot of major western museums–what to do with objects that other countries want back. It’s risky, but if resolved to enough people’s satisfaction, boy, what a wonderful thing it would be. Cullinan’s idea for navigating the claims of those countries pitted against the domestic political priorities is a “lending library” of sorts, in which objects might be lent to the countries in question. (A 1963 law prohibits actually returning a number of objects.
I POSITIVELY SNORTED when I clicked through to read the news about Disney removing an “insensitive and outdated” character. This time it was Liver Lips McGrowl from the Country Bear Jamboree which performs the song "My Woman Ain't Pretty (But She Don't Swear None).” The reason? According to Inside the Magic: “The term ‘liver lips’ is considered derogatory and offensive, as it is associated with excessive alcohol consumption and the resulting liver damage. The phrase is deemed to be insensitive and outdated, prompting Disney’s decision to modify the character.” And here’s the thing–the bear looks/looked wasted!
TRAVEL INDUSTRY NEWS
Hawaii tourism keeps plummeting
Crappy resale values for electric cars means it may soon be hard to find one to rent
Thrillist released a 2,000 person survey focusing on what Gen Z travelers care about
American Airlines reached a deal with its flight attendants
Portland Airport’s new terminal opens in a month and wow that’s a lot of wood
Virgin Atlantic is dropping its Shanghai route, another victim of rerouting over Russia
The civil rights icon Bayard Taylor Rustin was named for him.