ground outside the laboratory tomb and was now hopelessly charred and decayed.
Carter spent the end of that season conserving objects already removed from the tomb and packed off nineteen more cases of objects to Cairo before heading home to London. He returned in October 1925 with just one aim in mind. At last, he would reveal Tutankhamun’s mummy.
THE LID OF THE GOLD-COVERED COFFIN was slowly hoisted without mishap to reveal a second coffin similar to the first, except that its gold coating was inlaid with colorful glass: tiny arrow-shaped blues and reds that imitated turquoise, carnelian, and lapis lazuli. Carter’s men raised the outer shell and second coffin out of the sarcophagus together—a huge weight, much heavier than Carter had thought possible—then slid wooden planks underneath and laid it on top of the sarcophagus.
The second coffin had no handles, and fit so closely into the outer shell that you couldn’t even slide a little finger between them. It took some ingenuity to figure out how to extract it. In the end, Carter eased out some bronze pins by which the second coffin’s lid was fastened down, just by a quarter of an inch, and tied wire around them. He used the wire to hold that coffin in midair while he lowered the outer shell back into the sarcophagus, then quickly slipped a wooden tray under the suspended weight. Removing the second coffin lid revealed a third coffin of similar shape. For three millennia, a nest of four gilded wooden shrines, a quartzite sarcophagus, and three tightly fitting coffins—his own miniature cosmos*—had protected Tutankhamun’s mummy from an alien future. Now, only one layer was left.
The innermost coffin was different from the others. Just over six feet long, it was made of solid gold. It was an enormous mass of pure bullion, and an extravagance that the archaeologists had never dreamed of. It also explained why the second coffin had been so heavy to lift. Based on the fact that it took eight strong men to raise it, Carter estimated that the inner coffin alone weighed at least eight hundred pounds. The body was elaborately carved and inlaid, and the golden face was topped off by a blue beard, cobra-and-vulture headdress, and a necklace glinting red, blue, and gold. Covered in protective decoration, this coffin looked snug and safe at the same time as impressive. It was the perfect spaceship for time travel.
Carter raised the lid to reveal—at last—the mummy itself. It was neatly wrapped and decorated with a network of golden straps and bands, another necklace, and a pair of golden hands, sewn to the linen wrappings, which held a crook and flail.
And, of course, it was wearing a solid gold mask. Well, it’s a helmet more than a mask, as it covers the entire head as well as the top of the shoulders and chest. Ancient Egyptians used to call this the “head of mystery.” It allowed the wearer to see in the afterlife and to drive away any enemies or hostile forces that might attack him, as well as giving the dead person divine attributes—wearing it was described as “seeing with the head of a god.”17
The golden face had eyes made of aragonite and obsidian, and eyelids inlaid with blue glass to imitate lapis lazuli. The mask bore a blue-and-gold striped headdress as well as a sad but tranquil expression, with its gaze set firmly on the heavens. The features are recognizably those of Tutankhamun, but as with the three coffins, they’re also meant to show him as a god—specifically Osiris, the ruler of the underworld.
Osiris was the prototype mummy. In Egyptian mythology, he was a king whose jealous brother Seth killed him by putting him in a box—the first coffin—and throwing it in the Nile, before later chopping his body up and dispersing the pieces across Egypt. Osiris’s devoted wife and sister Isis tracked them all down and put him back together again; then the jackal-headed god Anubis wrapped the body in bandages and resurrected him. Osiris
Carter spent the end of that season conserving objects already removed from the tomb and packed off nineteen more cases of objects to Cairo before heading home to London. He returned in October 1925 with just one aim in mind. At last, he would reveal Tutankhamun’s mummy.
THE LID OF THE GOLD-COVERED COFFIN was slowly hoisted without mishap to reveal a second coffin similar to the first, except that its gold coating was inlaid with colorful glass: tiny arrow-shaped blues and reds that imitated turquoise, carnelian, and lapis lazuli. Carter’s men raised the outer shell and second coffin out of the sarcophagus together—a huge weight, much heavier than Carter had thought possible—then slid wooden planks underneath and laid it on top of the sarcophagus.
The second coffin had no handles, and fit so closely into the outer shell that you couldn’t even slide a little finger between them. It took some ingenuity to figure out how to extract it. In the end, Carter eased out some bronze pins by which the second coffin’s lid was fastened down, just by a quarter of an inch, and tied wire around them. He used the wire to hold that coffin in midair while he lowered the outer shell back into the sarcophagus, then quickly slipped a wooden tray under the suspended weight. Removing the second coffin lid revealed a third coffin of similar shape. For three millennia, a nest of four gilded wooden shrines, a quartzite sarcophagus, and three tightly fitting coffins—his own miniature cosmos*—had protected Tutankhamun’s mummy from an alien future. Now, only one layer was left.
The innermost coffin was different from the others. Just over six feet long, it was made of solid gold. It was an enormous mass of pure bullion, and an extravagance that the archaeologists had never dreamed of. It also explained why the second coffin had been so heavy to lift. Based on the fact that it took eight strong men to raise it, Carter estimated that the inner coffin alone weighed at least eight hundred pounds. The body was elaborately carved and inlaid, and the golden face was topped off by a blue beard, cobra-and-vulture headdress, and a necklace glinting red, blue, and gold. Covered in protective decoration, this coffin looked snug and safe at the same time as impressive. It was the perfect spaceship for time travel.
Carter raised the lid to reveal—at last—the mummy itself. It was neatly wrapped and decorated with a network of golden straps and bands, another necklace, and a pair of golden hands, sewn to the linen wrappings, which held a crook and flail.
And, of course, it was wearing a solid gold mask. Well, it’s a helmet more than a mask, as it covers the entire head as well as the top of the shoulders and chest. Ancient Egyptians used to call this the “head of mystery.” It allowed the wearer to see in the afterlife and to drive away any enemies or hostile forces that might attack him, as well as giving the dead person divine attributes—wearing it was described as “seeing with the head of a god.”17
The golden face had eyes made of aragonite and obsidian, and eyelids inlaid with blue glass to imitate lapis lazuli. The mask bore a blue-and-gold striped headdress as well as a sad but tranquil expression, with its gaze set firmly on the heavens. The features are recognizably those of Tutankhamun, but as with the three coffins, they’re also meant to show him as a god—specifically Osiris, the ruler of the underworld.
Osiris was the prototype mummy. In Egyptian mythology, he was a king whose jealous brother Seth killed him by putting him in a box—the first coffin—and throwing it in the Nile, before later chopping his body up and dispersing the pieces across Egypt. Osiris’s devoted wife and sister Isis tracked them all down and put him back together again; then the jackal-headed god Anubis wrapped the body in bandages and resurrected him. Osiris
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