The discovery of Tutankhamun’s tomb is often regarded as one of the greatest archaeological finds of all time. But how did Howard Carter and his team make their breakthrough?
WORDS: SPENCER MIZEN
At about 2pm on Sunday 26 November 1922, a moustachioed Englishman plunged a candle into a jet-black chamber and was greeted by the most extraordinary sight. Glinting in the glow of the flickering flame was gold – gold that had lain undisturbed for more than three millennia. “Can you see anything?” came a voice from behind him. Peering into the darkness, the Englishman – Howard Carter – replied: “Yes, it is wonderful.”
Carter was right. It was wonderful. For what the 48-year-old archaeologist and his companions had just unearthed was the most extraordinary discovery in the history of archaeology: the tomb of the pharaoh Tutankhamun.
Over the following months, what emerged from that darkened chamber and three rooms beyond electrified global fascination in ancient Egypt. A plethora of breath-taking treasures – from gold-covered beds and ivory gaming boards to the pharaoh’s iconic death mask – would make Tutankhamun one of the most instantly recognisable rulers in history and turn Carter into an archaeological superstar.
Yet what makes this story even more extraordinary is that Carter’s discovery was achieved very much against the odds. Until the events of November 1922, Tutankhamun was a bit-part pharaoh in ancient Egypt’s long and turbulent history – and Carter’s funding was about to be withdrawn.
That their fortunes were reversed so spectacularly was the result of the perseverance of numerous archaeologists, the toil of hundreds of Egyptian workers – and an aristocratic patron.
Tutankhamun was born in the 14th century BC, some 33 centuries before Howard Carter discovered his tomb.
Coming to the throne before his 10th birthday, he was dead before he was out of his teens. The cause of his death is uncertain – and many theories have been posited (see page 32) – but it was perhaps the result of a compound fracture of his left leg.
Tutankhamun’s life was short and his tomb was – in pharaohs’ terms, at least – unusually small, nestled in the Valley of the Kings, a barren ravine that sits on the opposite shore of the river Nile from the city of Luxor. We’ll probably never know why his burial place was so diminutive. Perhaps Tutankhamun was building another, grander tomb, but died before it was completed. Perhaps his successor, A
