On This Day in 1922, Tutankhamun’s Tomb Changed History
A forgotten boy king, a desperate dig, and the discovery that rewrote the story of ancient Egypt
On 4 November 1922, something astonishing happened in Egypt’s Valley of the Kings. It did not involve a battle or a coronation or a proclamation. It began with a water boy, a stumble, and a patch of earth that gave way to the first step of a staircase. That staircase led to a sealed tomb. And that tomb, as it turned out, belonged to the long-forgotten pharaoh Tutankhamun.
This was not just the greatest archaeological find of the 20th century. It was the moment ancient Egypt stepped back into the modern world, gold gleaming and myths waiting to be reborn.
Desperation dug this discovery
By late 1922, the Valley of the Kings was a graveyard not just of pharaohs, but of hope. Dozens of excavations had combed the area for over a century, turning up increasingly little. George Herbert, the wealthy English backer of the dig, had reached his limit. No more funding, no more time, no more chasing ghosts in the sand.
Howard Carter, the archaeologist in charge, knew his career was on the line. He had been meticulous and stubborn, which had earned him more critics than fans. But he believed there was something left to find, even if most others thought the valley had given up all it had to offer.
Then came that dusty morning in November. A boy delivering water brushes his hand against a smooth stone just beneath the surface. Carter is summoned. The step is cleared. Excitement floods the camp, but Carter holds his nerve. He refuses to open the tomb until Lord Carnarvon arrives two weeks later. When they finally break through, the moment is pure theatre. “Can you see anything?” asks Carnarvon. “Yes, wonderful things,” Carter replies.
He was right.
Treasure beyond imagination
What lay inside was staggering. Golden beds, statues, shrines, chariots, vases, jewellery, weaponry and furniture, all perfectly preserved. It would take Carter and his team over a decade to document and remove the 5,000 artefacts buried with the boy king. No other tomb had ever been found intact. None have been since.
But this was not just about treasure. This was a reintroduction. Tutankhamun, a boy largely erased from history, was suddenly everywhere. His face, immortalised in that death mask of solid gold and lapis lazuli, became the most recognisable image in the study of ancient Egypt.
He was not known for great battles or vast monuments. In fact, there is evidence he was frail, with a club foot and signs of illness. His reign lasted only ten years. But in death, and thanks to Carter’s discovery, he became a symbol of the old world waking up.
A fragile legacy buried in gold
Tutankhamun took the throne at around nine years old. He ruled during a volatile chapter in Egypt’s 18th dynasty, following the radical and deeply unpopular reign of Akhenaten, who had tried to erase the old gods and replace them with a single deity, the sun disc Aten. Some believe Akhenaten was Tutankhamun’s father. If so, the boy inherited a mess.
Tutankhamun’s short reign was defined by a return to tradition. He reinstated the old gods, moved the capital back to Thebes, and began undoing the damage left by his predecessor. For someone so young and reportedly unwell, this was a remarkable reversal of policy.
His tomb, when eventually opened, told a story of a pharaoh hurried into the afterlife. The items inside seemed borrowed or repurposed, some even bearing the names of others beneath Tutankhamun’s. His famous golden death mask was likely made for Queen Nefertiti. Yet even in death, he was granted majesty.
That may be why he was forgotten. His reign was seen as a clean-up operation rather than a defining era. No great temples. No military conquests worth chiselling into stone. But when Carter opened his tomb, the world saw something else entirely. A king, once minor, now magnificent.
The myth of the curse and the truth of obsession
Six months after entering the tomb, Lord Carnarvon died from a mosquito bite that became infected. The newspapers pounced. The curse of the pharaohs was born. Even Sir Arthur Conan Doyle chimed in, suggesting that the death was supernatural punishment for disturbing the dead.
There was no curse, of course, only coincidence. But the myth stuck. And it added to the allure.
In the years that followed, Carter would become a celebrity. Tutankhamun’s name became shorthand for ancient wonder. Exhibitions broke attendance records. Hollywood took inspiration. Museums scrambled for anything with a hint of Egypt.
This was not just a find. It was a phenomenon.
Why this matters today
When people speak of ancient civilisations, they often do so with distance. Stones, ruins, lists of kings. But what Carter’s discovery did was collapse that distance. In that tomb were beds, board games, bows, sandals, oils, food. These were not just relics. These were possessions. Intimate, ordinary, human.
Tutankhamun became a bridge. A way to feel the past not as a lecture, but as a life once lived. The detail of his burial showed how the Egyptians thought about death, how they prepared for eternity, and what they valued. The items chosen, the craftsmanship, the symbolism, it was all deeply personal. You cannot come face-to-face with his mask and not feel that connection.
That is why this day matters. Not just because something was found, but because someone was remembered. A boy who ruled, died, and disappeared into the sand for 3,245 years, only to be pulled back into history by accident, obsession, and patience.
On this day, 4 November 1922, a door opened not just into a tomb, but into the human heart of a civilisation often reduced to monuments and myths. Tutankhamun may have died young and in obscurity, but what followed was a resurrection few could imagine.
And we are still marvelling at the wonderful things.