Tutankhamen (33 page)
Authors: Joyce Tyldesley
Théophile Gautier's
The Romance of a Mummy
(1858) is superficially more realistic. It tells the tale of the discovery of an intact tomb in the Valley of the Kings by the English Lord Evandale and his hired archaeologist Dr Rumphius, and introduces the idea that a mummy might remain beautiful â might even be an object of desire â beneath its bandages:
The Romance of a Mummy
(1858) is superficially more realistic. It tells the tale of the discovery of an intact tomb in the Valley of the Kings by the English Lord Evandale and his hired archaeologist Dr Rumphius, and introduces the idea that a mummy might remain beautiful â might even be an object of desire â beneath its bandages:
As a general rule mummies which have been filled with bitumen and natron resemble black simulacra carved in ebony; corruption cannot attack them, but the appearance of life is wholly lacking; the bodies have not returned to the dust whence they came, but they have been petrified in a hideous shape, which one cannot contemplate without disgust and terror. In this case, the body, carefully prepared by surer, longer, and more costly processes, had preserved the elasticity of the flesh, the grain of the skin, and almost its natural colour. The skin, of a light brown, had the golden tint of a new Florentine bronze, and the amber, warm tone which is admired in the paintings of Giorgione and Titian covered with a smoky varnish, was not very different from what must have been the complexion of the young Egyptian during her lifetime. She seemed to be asleep rather than dead. The eyelids, still fringed with their long lashes, allowed eyes lustrous with the humid gleam of life to shine between their lines of antimony. One could have sworn they were about to shake off, as a light dream, their sleep of thirty centuries. The nose, delicate and fine, preserved its pure outline; no depression deformed the cheeks, which were as round as the side of a vase; the mouth, coloured with a faint blush, had preserved its imperceptible lines, and on the lips, voluptuously moulded,
fluttered a melancholy and mysterious smile, full of gentleness, sadness, and charm, â that tender and resigned smile which pouts so prettily the lips of the adorable heads which surmount the Canopean vases in the Louvre.
fluttered a melancholy and mysterious smile, full of gentleness, sadness, and charm, â that tender and resigned smile which pouts so prettily the lips of the adorable heads which surmount the Canopean vases in the Louvre.
In 1869 Louisa May Alcott, more famous as the author of
Little Women
, published âLost in a Pyramid, or The Mummy's Curse'. In this sinister tale a female mummy â a sorceress â causes the living death of an innocent but curious bride who must suffer for her husband's actions:
Little Women
, published âLost in a Pyramid, or The Mummy's Curse'. In this sinister tale a female mummy â a sorceress â causes the living death of an innocent but curious bride who must suffer for her husband's actions:
Evelyn, my dearest! Wake up and answer me. Did you wear that strange flower today?' whispered Forsyth, putting the misty screen away.
There was no need for her to answer, for there, gleaming spectrally on her bosom, was the evil blossom, its white petals spotted now with flecks of scarlet, vivid as drops of newly spilt blood.
But the unhappy bridegroom scarcely saw it, for the face above it appalled him by its utter vacancy. Drawn and pallid, as if with some wasting malady, the young face, so lovely an hour ago, lay before him aged and blighted by the baleful influence of the plant which had drunk up her life. No recognition in the eyes, no word upon the lips, no motion of the hand â only the faint breath, the fluttering pulse, and wide-opened eyes, betrayed that she was alive.
Alas for the young wife! The superstitious fear at which she had smiled had proved true: the curse that had bided its time for ages was fulfilled at last, and her own hand wrecked her happiness for ever. Death in life was her doom, and for years Forsyth secluded himself to tend with pathetic devotion the pale ghost, who never, by word or look, could thank him for the love that outlived even such a fate as this.
Bram Stoker honed the mummy story into a more compelling, more realistic horror.
The Jewel of Seven Stars,
a mummy story similar
in style and plot to the already successful
Dracula,
was published in 1903. It tells the tale of Queen Tera, whose unwrapping and resurrection in a lonely house in Cornwall led to a nasty ending for everyone involved. In fact his ending was considered so horrific that his publisher forced him to rewrite the final chapter for the 1912 revised edition. Unknown to everyone, Tera was a skilled magician:
The Jewel of Seven Stars,
a mummy story similar
in style and plot to the already successful
Dracula,
was published in 1903. It tells the tale of Queen Tera, whose unwrapping and resurrection in a lonely house in Cornwall led to a nasty ending for everyone involved. In fact his ending was considered so horrific that his publisher forced him to rewrite the final chapter for the 1912 revised edition. Unknown to everyone, Tera was a skilled magician:
Queen Tera was of the Eleventh, or Theban Dynasty of Egyptian Kings which held sway between the twenty-ninth and twenty-fifth centuries before Christ. She succeeded as the only child of her father, Antef. She must have been a girl of extraordinary character as well as ability, for she was but a young girl when her father died. Her youth and sex encouraged the ambitious priesthood, which had then achieved immense power. By their wealth and numbers and learning they dominated all Egypt, more especially the Upper portion. They were then secretly ready to make an effort for the achievement of their bold and long-considered design, that of transferring the governing power from a Kingship to a Hierarchy. But King Antef had suspected some such movement, and had taken the precaution of securing to his daughter the allegiance of the army. He had also had her taught statecraft, and had even made her learned in the lore of the very priests themselves. He had used those of one cult against the other; each being hopeful of some present gain on its own part by the influence of the King, or of some ultimate gain from its own influence over his daughter. Thus, the Princess had been brought up amongst scribes, and was herself no mean artist. Many of these things were told on the walls in pictures or in hieroglyphic writing of great beauty; and we came to the conclusion that not a few of them had been done by the Princess herself. It was not without cause that she was inscribed on the Stele as âProtector of the Arts'.
But the King had gone to further lengths, and had had his daughter taught magic, by which she had power over Sleep and Will. This was real magic â âblack' magic; not the magic of the temples,
which, I may explain, was of the harmless or âwhite' order, and was intended to impress rather than to effect. She had been an apt pupil; and had gone further than her teachers. Her power and her resources had given her great opportunities, of which she had availed herself to the full. She had won secrets from nature in strange ways; and had even gone to the length of going down into the tomb herself, having been swathed and coffined and left as dead for a whole month. The priests had tried to make out that the real Princess Tera had died in the experiment, and that another girl had been substituted; but she had conclusively proved their error â¦
which, I may explain, was of the harmless or âwhite' order, and was intended to impress rather than to effect. She had been an apt pupil; and had gone further than her teachers. Her power and her resources had given her great opportunities, of which she had availed herself to the full. She had won secrets from nature in strange ways; and had even gone to the length of going down into the tomb herself, having been swathed and coffined and left as dead for a whole month. The priests had tried to make out that the real Princess Tera had died in the experiment, and that another girl had been substituted; but she had conclusively proved their error â¦
It was unfortunate, but perhaps predictable, that, with access to Tutankhamen's tomb restricted and few Egyptologists prepared to give the sort of speculative interviews that the press craved, popular authors specialising in this type of occult tale would become accepted as experts on all aspects of Egyptian religion and ritual. Included among the group of popular âexperts' were Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, the creator of Sherlock Holmes and author of two popular tales of ancient Egypt â âThe Ring of Thoth' (1890) and âLot No. 249' (1892), and Sir Henry Rider Haggard, author of
She
(1887) and
Cleopatra
(1889), whose âSmith and the Pharaohs' had been serialised in the
Strand Magazine
in 1910. Most prominent of all was Marie Corelli, an immensely popular novelist and larger-than-life figure whose gothic works were regarded by some as complete tosh, but by many more as a true and exciting glimpse into lost worlds. At the peak of her success, Corelli was Britain's most widely read author and her opinions carried a great deal of weight with her supporters, if not with her critics. As her biography, published during her lifetime, delicately explains:
She
(1887) and
Cleopatra
(1889), whose âSmith and the Pharaohs' had been serialised in the
Strand Magazine
in 1910. Most prominent of all was Marie Corelli, an immensely popular novelist and larger-than-life figure whose gothic works were regarded by some as complete tosh, but by many more as a true and exciting glimpse into lost worlds. At the peak of her success, Corelli was Britain's most widely read author and her opinions carried a great deal of weight with her supporters, if not with her critics. As her biography, published during her lifetime, delicately explains:
Marie Corelli is bold; perhaps she is the boldest writer that has ever lived. What she believes she says, with a brilliant fearlessness that sweeps aside petty argument in its giant's stride towards the goal for
which she aims. She will have no half measures. Her works, gathered together under one vast cover, might fitly be printed and published as an amplified edition of the Decalogue [the Ten Commandments].
which she aims. She will have no half measures. Her works, gathered together under one vast cover, might fitly be printed and published as an amplified edition of the Decalogue [the Ten Commandments].
It is small wonder, then, that she has not earned the approbation of those critics who are unable to grasp the stupendous nature of her programme; they, having always held by certain canons, and finding those canons brutally discarded, retort with wholesale condemnation of matters that they deem literary heterodoxy, but whose sterling simplicity is in reality altogether beyond their ken.
5
5
The idea that Tutankhamen's tomb might be under some form of remote protection surfaced as soon as Carnarvon's illness was first reported in the London press. On 24 March 1923 â the day that
The Times
recorded an improvement in the invalid's condition â the
Daily Express
reported Corelli's concerns over his safety:
The Times
recorded an improvement in the invalid's condition â the
Daily Express
reported Corelli's concerns over his safety:
I cannot but think that some risks are run by breaking into the last rest of a king of Egypt whose tomb is specially and solemnly guarded, and robbing him of possessions.
According to a rare book I possess, which is not in the British Museum, entitled âThe Egyptian History of the Pyramids' (translated out of the original Arabic by Vortier, Arabic professor to Louis XVI of France) the most dire punishment follows any rash intruder into a sealed tomb.
This book gives long and elaborate lists of the âtreasures' buried with several of the kings, and among these are named âdivers secret poisons enclosed in boxes in such wise that those who touch them shall not know how they come to suffer'.
That is why I ask: âWas it a mosquito bite that has so seriously infected Lord Carnarvon?'
When, just few days later, Carnarvon succumbed to his illness, Corelli was hailed as a clairvoyant. Other mediums, less impressively, published their predictions of tomb-based death immediately after the event. âVelma' had apparently warned Carnarvon of the perils of resuming his work in the Valley; âCheiro' had received a warning transmitted by one of Akhenaten's daughters, and had forwarded it to the Earl.
Carnarvon died aged fifty-seven at a time when average male life expectancy at birth in the UK was just under fifty-seven years; in 1866, the year of his own birth, a male industrial worker would have been lucky to reach forty-five years of age.
6
As a member of the well-fed, leisured elite Carnarvon might reasonably have expected to live a longer than average life, but his health had been severely weakened by a near-fatal car crash in 1901. An account of this accident is given by his sister, Lady Winifred Burghclere, who provides an idiosyncratic but eminently readable and affectionate tribute to her brother as an introduction to Carter and Mace's 1923 Tutankhamen publication. From this we learn how Carnarvon had been driving at speed along a straight and apparently empty road in Germany when he surmounted a hill only to find, in a hidden dip, the road completely blocked by two bullock carts. Unable to stop, he wrenched the car off the road, straight into a heap of stones. As the tyres burst, the light car overturned and landed on its driver. The chauffeur, Edward Trotman, was thrown clear and protected by his thick coat, but Carnarvon was trapped. Trotman was able to drag the vehicle off his master, then, seizing a bucket of water from a workman in a nearby field, threw it over his unconscious form. According to Lady Burghclere, the shock of the water re-started her brother's heart. Carnarvon recovered from this ordeal, but he would never be the same again: âNothing that skill or care could effect then or later was spared, but throughout the remainder of his life he suffered from perpetually recurrent operations and dangerous illnesses.'
7
6
As a member of the well-fed, leisured elite Carnarvon might reasonably have expected to live a longer than average life, but his health had been severely weakened by a near-fatal car crash in 1901. An account of this accident is given by his sister, Lady Winifred Burghclere, who provides an idiosyncratic but eminently readable and affectionate tribute to her brother as an introduction to Carter and Mace's 1923 Tutankhamen publication. From this we learn how Carnarvon had been driving at speed along a straight and apparently empty road in Germany when he surmounted a hill only to find, in a hidden dip, the road completely blocked by two bullock carts. Unable to stop, he wrenched the car off the road, straight into a heap of stones. As the tyres burst, the light car overturned and landed on its driver. The chauffeur, Edward Trotman, was thrown clear and protected by his thick coat, but Carnarvon was trapped. Trotman was able to drag the vehicle off his master, then, seizing a bucket of water from a workman in a nearby field, threw it over his unconscious form. According to Lady Burghclere, the shock of the water re-started her brother's heart. Carnarvon recovered from this ordeal, but he would never be the same again: âNothing that skill or care could effect then or later was spared, but throughout the remainder of his life he suffered from perpetually recurrent operations and dangerous illnesses.'
7
His accident left Carnarvon weak, underweight and vulnerable to chest infections. His doctors, worried about the effects of a damp British winter, recommended a visit to Egypt, and so a new passion was born. That his immediate family accepted his death as entirely natural is made clear by Lady Burghclere:
In his will he expressed the wish to be buried on Beacon Hill. It was therefore on the summit of the great down overlooking the home that he had so passionately loved, that he was laid to rest ⦠Organ, music, choristers, there were none at this burying. The beautiful office, commanding âthe body of our dear brother to the ground in sure and certain hope,' had something of the stark grandeur of a funeral at sea. But the whole air was alive with the springtide song of the larks. They sang deliriously, in a passion of ecstasy which can never be forgotten by those who heard that song. And so we left him, feeling that the ending was in harmony with the life.
8
8
Finally, the world's press had a story that they could publish without deferring to
The Times
: a human tragedy far more compelling than the disappointingly slow-moving events at the tomb. As with all celebrity deaths, the story rapidly gathered its own momentum. Soon there were reports of sinister goings on. At the very moment of Carnarvon's death all the lights in Cairo had been mysteriously extinguished and, back at Highclere, Carnarvon's dog, Susie, had let out a great howl and died. That all the lights in Cairo should fail â or, in some accounts, that all the lights in the hotel (or, wrongly, hospital) where Carnarvon died should fail â is so far from remarkable as to be unworthy of mention. Even today, the Cairo electricity supply is notoriously fickle and no one can ever explain just why the lights go on and off. The reports of the dog's death stem from Carnarvon's son, the 6th Earl, a man with an intense fear of Tutankhamen's curse: interviewed by NBC in New York, in July 1977, he apparently told his
interviewer that he would ânot accept a million pounds to enter the tomb of Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings'.
9
In this case, as he was in Egypt at the time his father died, he cannot have been an eye-witness to events at Highclere. Indeed, it is unlikely that there were any witnesses, as Susie died early in the morning:
The Times
: a human tragedy far more compelling than the disappointingly slow-moving events at the tomb. As with all celebrity deaths, the story rapidly gathered its own momentum. Soon there were reports of sinister goings on. At the very moment of Carnarvon's death all the lights in Cairo had been mysteriously extinguished and, back at Highclere, Carnarvon's dog, Susie, had let out a great howl and died. That all the lights in Cairo should fail â or, in some accounts, that all the lights in the hotel (or, wrongly, hospital) where Carnarvon died should fail â is so far from remarkable as to be unworthy of mention. Even today, the Cairo electricity supply is notoriously fickle and no one can ever explain just why the lights go on and off. The reports of the dog's death stem from Carnarvon's son, the 6th Earl, a man with an intense fear of Tutankhamen's curse: interviewed by NBC in New York, in July 1977, he apparently told his
interviewer that he would ânot accept a million pounds to enter the tomb of Tutankhamen in the Valley of the Kings'.
9
In this case, as he was in Egypt at the time his father died, he cannot have been an eye-witness to events at Highclere. Indeed, it is unlikely that there were any witnesses, as Susie died early in the morning:
Father died shortly before two o'clock Cairo time. As I learned later, something very strange happened here in Highclere about the same time, shortly before 4 am London time. Our fox terrier bitch, who had lost her front paw in an accident in 1919 and whom Father loved very much, suddenly began to howl, sat up on her hind legs, and fell over dead.
10
10
Other books
Under Attack by Hannah Jayne
Wolf at the Door by Davidson, MaryJanice
Under a Turquoise Sky by J. R. Roberts
This Honourable House by Edwina Currie
The Lemoine Affair by Marcel Proust
Recruits (Keeper of the Water Book 2) by George, Kevin
Her One and Only by Penny Jordan
Don't Let Go by Skye Warren
The Bare Bum Gang and the Football Face-Off by Anthony McGowan
The Venice Conspiracy by Sam Christer
