Lord Carnarvon, the man who financed the search for King Tut's tomb, was the first purported victim of the pharaoh's curse, but at least eight other men associated with the mummy lost their homes, their pets — and even their lives.
When Howard Carter peered into the sealed tomb of Tutankhamun on Nov. 26, 1922, and whispered that he saw “wonderful things,” he could not have imagined that his discovery would launch not only the greatest archaeological sensation of the century but also one of history’s most enduring supernatural legends: the tale of King Tut’s curse.
Within months of breaching the pharaoh’s 3,000-year-old resting place, members of the expedition began dying under mysterious circumstances, sparking headlines about an ancient curse that would claim victims for years to come.
Some of the alleged victims of King Tut’s curse never even set foot in his tomb. They were simply connected in one way or another to the pharaoh’s mummy, to the glimmering artifacts found inside his burial chamber, or even just to Lord Carnarvon, the British aristocrat who financed the excavations.
The “Curse of the Pharaohs” became a cultural phenomenon that blended genuine tragedy with media sensationalism, raising questions that persist to this day: Were these deaths the result of paranormal vengeance — or something far more earthly?
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Beginning in 1907, he financed Howard Carter's archaeological excavations in Egypt's Valley of the Kings.
Lord Carnarvon is pictured here shortly before his death in 1923.Public Domain
Then, in November 1922, Carter finally discovered the steps leading to Tutankhamun's tomb. Carnarvon rushed from England to Egypt, and on Nov. 26, 1922, he was present when Carter first peered into the tomb and uttered his famous words about seeing "wonderful things."
Carnarvon was one of the first people in over 3,000 years to enter the intact royal tomb — the most spectacular archaeological find of the century.
Here, Howard Carter (left) and Lord Carnarvon stand on the steps of King Tut's tomb in 1922.Public Domain
The official cause was blood poisoning (septicemia) resulting from an infected mosquito bite on his cheek that he had accidentally reopened while shaving. He developed pneumonia and died at age 56.
His untimely death so soon after disturbing the pharaoh's tomb fueled sensational stories about a "Curse of the Pharaohs."
Newspapers reported on supposedly supernatural events that took place at the time of his death, including claims that the lights went out in Cairo the moment he died, stories that his dog howled and then dropped dead back in England, and alleged inscriptions warning of death to any who entered the tomb.
Left to right: Lord Carnarvon, his daughter Lady Evelyn Herbert, and Howard Carter outside of King Tut's tomb. November 1922.Public Domain
However, Aubrey did travel to Egypt and had interests in the region. And he was present in Egypt around the time of the tomb's discovery, as he visited his half-brother there.
Here, Howard Carter (left) and two unidentified colleagues stand at the tomb's entrance. 1922 or 1923.Public Domain
In this photo, workers move artifacts from King Tut's tomb to be loaded on a train. 1922.Public Domain
Gould is pictured here at his sister's wedding with his wife and two of his daughters. 1913.Public Domain
His death was lumped in with the curse narrative because of this coincidental timing and the similarities to Carnarvon's death.
Here, Howard Carter (second from the left), archaeologist Arthur Callender (far right), and two Egyptian colleagues remove the outermost shrine covering King Tut's sarcophagus. Circa 1923.Public Domain
Evelyn-White's story came to a tragic conclusion, however, in 1924.
Pictured here are artifacts found in an antechamber of King Tut's tomb, including chariots and various furniture. 1922.Public Domain
Before taking his own life, though, Evelyn-White allegedly left a note that read: "I have succumbed to a curse which forces me to disappear."
The connection to the Curse of the Pharaohs is obvious, but it is also possible that this "curse" may have been more of a self-fulfilling prophecy or a metaphorical reference to his own fragile psyche.
Here, Arthur Callender, Howard Carter, and an Egyptian worker examine the inner chambers of King Tut's tomb. 1922 or 1923.Public Domain
Unlike others afflicted by the "curse," Ember was nowhere near Egypt at the time. He was friends with many members of the excavation team, including Lord Carnarvon, but his actual connection was entirely through a professional network and his friendship circle. Johns Hopkins Digital Library
But both Ember and his wife nearly survived.
Here, Howard Carter (left) and an Egyptian colleague examine the sarcophagus of King Tutankhamun. 1925.Public Domain
Sadly, Ember, his wife, their son, and the family's maid all died in the catastrophe.
There was a final, darkly ironic detail that captured public imagination, though: The name of Ember's manuscript was The Egyptian Book of the Dead. For many, this was proof enough that Ember, too, had become a victim of the curse.
Pictured here, tourists gather outside of King Tut's tomb in 1923.Public Domain
Pictured here is a statue of Tutankhamun discovered in the pharaoh's tomb.Public Domain
His progression from apparent health to death was rapid, and that, combined with the inability to identify the exact cause, fueled the fire of paranormal speculation.
That said, there were some pre-existing factors that can explain his death. He had actually been suffering from one of the common causes of death among early radiographers: overexposure to radiation.
However, this curse narrative gets basic facts wrong. Reid was invited to Egypt by Carter, but he never made it there. He died in Switzerland seeking a cure to his ailment. In other words, he never actually X-rayed Tutankhamun's mummy at all.
Pictured here is a 1910 photo of the area in the Valley of the Kings where Tut's tomb was later found.Public Domain
Breasted had a long career and fit the popular image of an Indiana Jones-like archaeologist. Daring, handsome, and charismatic, he had traveled to remote and politically unstable corners of the Middle East and helped identify the tomb of King Tut.
He was also one of the foremost scholars of his time, eventually becoming known as "the father of American Egyptology" and founding the Oriental Institute at the University of Chicago. Public Domain
Breasted and his family are pictured here at Abu Simbel, Egypt, in 1906.University of Chicago
The cobra was a known symbol of the Egyptian monarchy, appearing on pharaohs' headdresses as protective emblems. To some, this seemed like a deliberate supernatural warning.
That said, Breasted himself did not die until Dec. 2, 1935, at the respectable age of 70, outliving many of the other "curse victims." It did happen right after returning from a trip to Egypt, but given that more than a decade had passed since Tut's tomb was found, the connection is fairly loose.
Here, Howard Carter (front) accompanies workers carrying artifacts from King Tut's tomb. 1923.Public Domain
In this photo, Stephen Vlasto and Lady Ribblesdale visit the tomb in 1923.Heritage Image Partnership Ltd / Alamy Stock Photo
Howard Carter and colleagues are pictured here near Tut's tomb in 1923.Public Domain
This one-two punch of fire and water seemed to fulfill ancient prophecies, possibly related to a warning of "fire, water, and pestilence."
Ingram reportedly only experienced two of the three disasters and fortunately did not die as a result of his misfortunes.
Here, tourists ascend from Tut's tomb in 1936.Library of Congress
Shortly after their work was complete, though, Mace began to experience many health issues, his gradual decline alarming those who witnessed it.
Here, Arthur Mace (left) and Alfred Lucas, a British chemist and archaeologist, conserve a chariot found in Tut's tomb. 1920s.Public Domain
On April 6, 1928, he succumbed to complications from pneumonia at the age of 53.
Mace's direct involvement with the tomb and subsequent decline is often cited as one of the strongest and clearest examples of the curse taking effect, and there is some genuine evidence that conditions in the tomb may have contributed to his health declining. That said, these explanations are scientifically grounded.
Besides, Carter was the most involved member of the excavation team, and he was not a victim of the curse — if there was a curse at all.
Here, Howard Carter and colleagues closely examine King Tut's mummy for the first time. 1925.Public Domain
The Discovery That Took The World By Storm
The story began in Egypt's Valley of the Kings, where British archaeologist Howard Carter had spent 15 frustrating years searching for the tomb of the obscure boy king Tutankhamun.
Financed by the wealthy Fifth Earl of Carnarvon, George Herbert, Carter's excavations had yielded little beyond mounting expenses and dwindling hope. Lord Carnarvon, who had taken up Egyptology after seeking Egypt's warm climate to recover from a serious automobile accident, was considering abandoning the project when Carter finally struck gold in November 1922.
Wellcome CollectionA close-up of King Tut's mummified skull.
The discovery was everything archaeologists dream of: an essentially intact royal tomb, untouched by grave robbers, filled with golden treasures and artifacts that offered an unprecedented window into ancient Egyptian royal life.
Lord Carnarvon rushed from England to be present for the opening, becoming one of the first people in over three millennia to gaze upon the pharaoh's treasures. The tomb contained over 5,000 objects, from gilded chariots to the iconic golden funerary mask that would become one of the most recognizable images in archaeology.
Carter, meanwhile, assembled a team of experts to carefully catalog and preserve the delicate artifacts.
Among them was Arthur Mace, an experienced archaeologist from the Metropolitan Museum who helped open the sealed chambers, and various visiting scholars and dignitaries who were granted the privilege of viewing this archaeological miracle. The discovery made international headlines, drawing tourists from around the world and establishing Tutankhamun as the most famous pharaoh in history, despite his relatively minor role in ancient Egypt's actual political landscape.
But the tomb also made headlines for another reason when people involved with the find began dropping dead from "King Tut's curse."
Death Comes To The Disturbers
The curse narrative began almost immediately after Lord Carnarvon's sudden death on April 5, 1923, just five months after the tomb's opening.
The earl had been bitten by a mosquito, accidentally reopened the wound while shaving, and developed blood poisoning that progressed to pneumonia. He died in Cairo at age 56, his weakened constitution from his earlier accident unable to fight the infection. Newspapers, however, seized upon his death with sensational headlines, claiming that disturbing the pharaoh's rest had triggered supernatural revenge.
These rumors were exacerbated by Arthur Conan Doyle, the author of Sherlock Holmes. As the Glasgow Herald reported on April 6, 1923, Doyle stated, "An evil elemental may have caused Lord Carnarvon's fatal illness. One does not know what elementals existed in those days, nor what their form might be. The Egyptians knew a great deal more about those things than we do."
The alleged curse of King Tut quickly accumulated victims.
Public DomainHoward Carter, the archaeologist who led the excavation of Tut's tomb, pictured here in 1924.
Lord Carnarvon's half-brother, Aubrey Herbert, died just five months later in September 1923, also from blood poisoning following a dental procedure. American railroad magnate George Jay Gould, who had visited the tomb as Carnarvon's guest, died in May 1923 from pneumonia after reportedly falling ill shortly after his trip to Egypt. The pattern seemed undeniable: Those who entered the tomb were being struck down by mysterious illnesses.
More deaths followed in subsequent years, each adding to the mythology.
Arthur Mace, who had worked directly with Carter in removing artifacts and handling the mummy itself, left Egypt in 1924 due to declining health and died in 1928 from complications of pleurisy and pneumonia at age 53. Archaeologist Hugh Evelyn-White, who had entered the mortuary chamber, hanged himself in 1924, allegedly leaving a suicide note stating, "I have succumbed to a curse."
Even peripheral connections proved fatal in the public imagination: Egyptologist Aaron Ember, who was merely friends with expedition members, died in a 1926 house fire while trying to save his manuscript titled The Egyptian Book of the Dead.
The stories of King Tut's curse grew more elaborate with each retelling, too.
Sir Bruce Ingram, a friend of Carter who was gifted a mummified hand by the archaeologist that he used as a paperweight, saw his house burn down and then flood during reconstruction. Radiologist Sir Archibald Douglas Reid allegedly died soon after X-raying Tut's mummy, though this tale proved to be fabricated — Carter did reportedly invite him to examine the corpse, but Reid died before he had the chance.
The media had also reported that lights went out across Cairo at the moment of Carnarvon's death and that his dog simultaneously howled and died back in England, though neither claim was verified. In fact, as more and more people looked into the so-called curse of King Tut, they would ultimately discover exactly how much of it was completely fictional.
The Scientific Reality Behind King Tut's Curse
Modern analysis revealed that the curse was largely a creation of sensational journalism meeting unfortunate coincidence.
Of the 58 people who were reportedly present when the tomb and sarcophagus were opened, only eight died within 12 years — hardly evidence of supernatural targeting. Most tellingly, Howard Carter himself, who spent more time in the tomb than anyone and handled the mummy directly, lived until 1939, dying at age 64 from cancer.
In truth, the deaths that were attributed to King Tut's curse can largely be linked to the comparatively rudimentary medical knowledge of the 1920s.
Before the discovery of antibiotics, infections from mosquito bites, dental procedures, and minor wounds frequently proved fatal. Blood poisoning, pneumonia, and pleurisy were common killers in an era when medical science had limited tools to combat bacterial infections. Lord Carnarvon's compromised immune system from his earlier accident made him particularly vulnerable, as did Arthur Mace's progressive respiratory condition.
Public DomainHoward Carter kneels down to peer into a shrine in King Tut's tomb alongside archaeologist Arthur Callender (right) and an Egyptian worker.
Some scientists have proposed that environmental hazards in the tomb itself may have contributed to respiratory illnesses.
The sealed chamber contained dust, bat droppings, and potentially toxic fungal spores like Aspergillus flavus that could have accumulated over millennia. Archaeologists working in poorly ventilated ancient tombs inhaled these irritants for hours, potentially triggering or exacerbating lung conditions. This would explain why those who spent the most time inside, like Mace, developed respiratory problems, while other visitors remained healthy.
Occupational hazards also claimed supposed curse victims.
Sir Archibald Douglas Reid likely died from radiation poisoning, a common fate for early radiologists who worked before the dangers of X-ray exposure were understood. His profession, not Egyptian magic, killed him. Hugh Evelyn-White's suicide appears linked to depression and the psychological impact of losing friends, possibly exacerbated by the media hysteria surrounding the curse itself — a tragic case where belief in King Tut's curse may have become self-fulfilling.
The curse legend reveals more about 1920s society than ancient Egyptian supernatural power. The public was hungry for mystery and exoticism in the aftermath of World War I. Egypt represented a romantic escape, and the idea that ancient powers could reach across millennia to punish modern intruders satisfied a cultural appetite for the occult that was widespread in the era — especially as Egyptomania swept across the Western world.
Newspapers simply discovered that curse stories sold papers, and each new death — no matter how tangentially connected to the tomb — was eagerly added to the tally.
But the most damning evidence against King Tut's curse is what was never found: curse inscriptions in Tutankhamun's tomb. The dire warnings allegedly carved into the tomb walls were complete fabrications. The actual deaths, tragic as they were, fell well within normal mortality rates for the era, and the vast majority of people connected to the discovery lived long, healthy lives.
After learning about the alleged curse of King Tut, read the stories of 13 people who fell victim to the Hope Diamond curse. Or, read about the incredible story behind King Tut's mask.
