The Ancient Egyptian Tomb of Seti I, discovered and trashed by a circus strongman (VIDEO INSIDE)

A wise man once said that truth is stranger than fiction. If you tried to turn this tale into a feature film, it’d surely be rejected for being more unrealistic than a circus sideshow.

But it all really happened…a giant of a man known for lumbering around with little dudes clinging to his body journeyed from here…to here…to here…and discovered the most perfectly preserved tomb known to mankind…leaving a trail of devastation in his wake.

And all the while, the wealthy watch from afar, chowing down on mummies.

Is truth stranger than fiction? You’ll just have to buy a ticket to this circus and decide for yourself.

Oh, hi there.

This is a video version of the article below. If you think you don’t want to watch it, then maybe you should give it about 90 seconds before you decide. 90 seconds of watching the video, I mean. Not sitting there and contemplating it for 90 seconds.

Then if you don’t like it, you can just leave a comment like “Your thumbnail makes me physically ill, I couldn’t even watch!” Then you can come back here and read the article.

The Great Belzoni

Imagine a time before radio. Before television, before cell phones. A time when your only entertainment might have been witnessing feats of the fantastic at the circus, instead of watching wacky cat videos from the comfort of your bed.

A time when the wonders of the world had to be brought to you. From the Moss-Haired Girl to the Living Skeleton, from the strange and the spectacular to the bizarre and the breathtaking.

Our tale starts in Padua, in northern Italy, with a man named Giovanni Battista Belzoni. He fancied himself an engineer, supposedly studying hydraulics in Rome. But through a series of unfortunate events, he wound up in London. Standing 6’7” tall, he tumbled into a career suited to a man of his stature: That of a circus strongman, known as “The Great Belzoni.”

He married an Irish girl who may have been a tightrope walker. In the theatre, he was known for his stunts of strength, like lifting 11 men on a metal contraption.

In 1812, Belzoni starts doing shows around Europe. You’d think that’d be exciting, but it seems he wanted more out of life than lifting bundles of little dudes. Maybe he wanted to be known for his mind, not his body.

On the island of Malta, he meets a man who works for Muhammed Ali. No, not that Muhammed Ali. I mean the one who was the Ottoman ruler of Egypt.

Eventually he’s taken to Cairo, where he meets Ali himself — Belzoni shows him a water wheel invention that could supposedly raise the Nile. No, these aren’t Belzoni’s drawings. They’re by a slightly more accomplished engineer: a guy named Leonardo da Vinci. But you get the idea.

No, this isn’t it either. Frankly, I’m not sure what it looked like, because Belzoni’s water wheel never comes to be. BUT…he gets connected with a guy who puts him in touch with the right people…the people who would change his life. Or maybe the wrong people, considering what happened.

Many a tragic tale has begun with ominous introductions.

The British Smile

The Great Belzoni is now drunk.

I mean he’s gotten a taste for that intoxicating elixir called “Egypt.” Which is no surprise — it’s enticed travelers back to the age of the Ancient Greeks.

And to a European, this was a mystical and magical land bursting with mysteries. Remember, this was a time when hieroglyphs were still an uncharted puzzle waiting to be solved.

And if his mindset is still tough to understand, maybe we could look at it this way: for Belzoni, this was a chance to leave the circus behind; a chance to become known for his brain, not his body.

Belzoni gets connected with a really important gent: Henry Salt, the British Consul to Egypt. A man who also happens to be obsessed with Ancient Egypt.

Here’s Belzoni’s own words, on how he got that meeting and a job:

“…knowing the wish he had for the removal of the colossal bust of Memnon, I repeatedly told him that I would undertake its conveyance from Thebes to Alexandria, so that it might be sent to England.”

And so, Belzoni made his way to the Ramesseum — The Mortuary Temple of King Ramesses II, one of the most prominent and powerful pharaohs of Ancient Egypt.

Incidentally, Ramesses lived into his 90s and had over 100 kids. That doesn’t really have anything to do with our tale, but how can you not mention it? I mean…a HUNDRED kids.

This “bust of Memnon” Belzoni claimed he could move wasn’t actually of someone named “Memnon.” It was of Ramesses II. Standing nearly nine feet tall, it weighed over seven tons. And it wasn’t actually a bust either; it was a piece of a larger statue, which still sits in its spot…right next to its twin.

If he could pull it off, this victory would make Belzoni famous for lifting something other than little dudes on a stage, and he knew it.

“I found it near the remains of its body and chair, with its face upwards, and apparently smiling on me, at the thought of being taken to England,” he said.

Which…yeah. I don’t know about that one, Belzoni.

Now, Belzoni was no da Vinci, but it seems he did have some engineering skill after all. He began casting off his reputation as an Italian circus strongman, and put his mind to work.

Using nothing but wooden poles, Egyptian rope, and a crew of locals, The Great Belzoni did exactly what he said he was going to do.

And so, Belzoni ‘s hired help hauled that giant bust all the way to the Nile and eventually put it on a boat. It was put up on a pedestal in the British Museum…it’s still there now, along with a lot of other things they should or shouldn’t have, depending on your point of view.

The Colossal Hot Box

The Great Belzoni is now dead.

His success gave him a chance to leave his old life in the sand, and reinvent himself.
He’s hired by Salt and begins traversing the land as a self-styled adventurer…uncovering more treasures to send back to England.

A metamorphosis begins — he completely revamps his appearance. The circus strongman was buried. In his place, the all-new Belzoni emerges: One who adopted the dress of the Ottoman rulers of Egypt.

He sails even farther south, nearly to what’s now the border of Sudan. There, he finds an even greater temple of Ramesses II…one that would leave Belzoni breathless.

Its name is Abu Simbel — one of the most imposing monuments of Ancient Egypt, carved right out of the rock and highlighted by four colossal statues of Ramesses himself. It’s believed one of its purposes was to terrify travelers from nearby Nubia who’d pass it on the Nile, and realize just how powerful Egypt and its king were.

When Belzoni found it, the temple was half buried in sand. He wanted nothing more than to find his way inside — through the door that sits in the middle of those towering images of Ramesses.

Now, it’d be easy to say Belzoni only cared about treasure. And certainly, that was one of his main concerns. But in reading his eloquently-titled book, “Narrative of the Operations and Recent Discoveries within the Pyramids, Temples, Tombs and Excavations in Egypt and Nubia,” it’s clear he also has a great appreciation for Ancient Egypt. He often makes astute observations about the civilization which would later prove to be correct.

And as one might expect, Belzoni makes a grand total of zero references to his life as a circus strongman. It’s clear how he wanted to be known.

Amid the really tedious tales of nearly every single day in Egypt, right down to what was for breakfast. Or lunch. Or dinner.

“Soon after dinner coffee was brought up from the boat, and I went on board to take my dinner with Mrs. Belzoni, who had boiled rice and water for her fare, in preference to the chieftain’s mess of mutton.”

Oh, wait. Sorry. You’re probably even less interested in that than I am.

Belzoni found some help. Together, they cleared the sand away from the temple, until they’re able to make their grand entrance.

“From what we could perceive at the first view, it was evidently a very large place; but our astonishment increased, when we found it to be one of the most magnificent of temples, enriched with beautiful intaglios, painting, colossal figures…”

As much as he’s enthralled by what he finds, there’s no treasure to take. He sets about recording what he saw, but unlike an actual archaeologist would, he just…well…he gives up.

“The heat was so great in the interior of the temple, that it scarcely permitted us to take any drawings, as the perspiration from our hands soon rendered the paper quite wet. Accordingly, we left this operation to succeeding travelers, who may set about it with more convenience than we could, as the place will become cooler.”

Which…yeah, Belzoni. It’s hot. That’s why you schedule your trips in the wintertime. And you certainly shouldn’t just head off somewhere else once you find out there’s no giant golden statues inside.

Into the Breach

When you think of Ancient Egypt, one single image is likely what springs to mind: Pyramids.

On the Giza Plateau, the one in the center sticks out: the Pyramid of Khafre. Over 4,500 years old, built as a tomb for King Khafre of the Old Kingdom. Even in the time of Ramesses, this was ancient.

It’s one of three main Pyramids on the Plateau – constructed by Khufu, Khafre and Menkaure – father, son, and grandson. They’re only three of well over a hundred pyramids built by the Ancient Egyptians…many now lost to time.

Unlike the others, Khafre’s Pyramid still has a portion of its original limestone casing on the top. What treasures might it contain, cloaked beneath those enormous blocks? Belzoni had to find out…but he knew making an attempt was a risk.

“My undertaking was of no small importance: it consisted of an attempt to penetrate into one of the great pyramids of Egypt, one of the wonders of the world. I was confident, that a failure in such an attempt would have drawn on me the laughter of all the world for my presumption in undertaking such a task: but at the same time I considered, that I might be excused, since without attempting we should never accomplish anything.”

Belzoni believed he had greater powers of observation than most, due to his Egyptian experiences. He got permission from the Ottomans, hired a crew, and began to dig at a spot he selected, only to find he was completely, utterly, wrong.

And it was then that the height of humiliation hailed down upon him. A group of Europeans who’d climbed the neighboring Great Pyramid spotted Belzoni. They fire a gun in greetings. Belzoni returns their hello.

Most disturbingly, this group included…get this…the curator of the Louvre Museum in Paris. They come down to see what Belzoni’s up to. Word spread among all the French in Cairo.

As Belzoni plots his next move, visitors become a daily burden, some surely swinging by to snicker at the former circus strongman. Global embarrassment was now on the menu.

But Belzoni refuses to stop. Informed by hints from the previously entered Great Pyramid, he picks another spot. His workers call him the name “magnoon,” meaning “madman.” Still, Belzoni persists.The workers hack away at the mortar.

This time, he was right. Giovanni Belzoni became the first man in modern history to enter the Pyramid of Khafre. And as far as he knew at the time, he was the first man inside at all, since the age of the Ancient Egyptians. But as for what he was feeling in that moment, Belzoni is silent.

“My torch, formed of a few wax candles, gave but a faint light; I could, however, clearly distinguish the principal objects. I naturally turned my eyes to the west end of the chamber, looking for the sarcophagus, which I strongly expected to see in the same situation as that in the first pyramid; but I was disappointed when I saw nothing there. The chamber has a pointed or sloping ceiling; and many of the stones had been removed from their places, evidently by someone in search of treasure. On my advancing toward the west end, I was agreeably surprised to find, that there was a sarcophagus buried on a level with the floor.”

He goes on to explain what he found in rather scientific language — the pointed ceiling, the empty sarcophagus near the floor.

There was no treasure. The Pyramid was ransacked long ago, and Belzoni even finds Arabic writing…someone else had been here hundreds of years earlier.

Nevertheless, he’d dodged disgrace — even though he basically left empty-handed. But he did leave behind one thing: His name, written in giant letters on the wall. “Discovered by G. Belzoni, 2 March 1818.” It’s still there today. One way or another, Belzoni seemed bent on inscribing his name in history.

Unwrapped Demand

Now, lest you think I’m some brazen Belzoni basher, it’s important to put him in his place.

We need to remember this was a time when Egypt was *hot*, especially in Britain. Pieces of Ancient Egypt were highly coveted, and people were running all over the place looking for stuff to sell.

Finding it wasn’t hard — you could buy yourself a nice fresh mummy right off the street. A feature of high-end Victorian dinner parties involved unwrapping mummies, looking for amulets tucked inside.

I mean, what better way to impress your friends and show how important you were than to invite them over to unravel cloth from dried up dead body? Come on…you can’t tell me you wouldn’t go.

Mummies were a hot ticket item in a number of ways. They were often ground up and used in paint, a color called “mummy brown.” Some people even used them as a medical treatment, eating them or crushing them up and rubbing them on themselves.

I’m not making this up. Headache? Mummy. Fever? Mummy. Cough suppressant? Mummy. Eat it, rub it, maybe even smash it into a powder and snort up some mummy.

Okay, I don’t know if they actually snorted mummy. But why not?

The point I’m trying to make is that despite his tendency to wax poetic about Ancient Egypt, it’s clear Belzoni was also seeking out fortune and glory…but that was kind of his job.

He was employed by Henry Salt, the British consul to Egypt. And some of the items he and others obtained were bought by the British Museum — and by extension, the British government.

Along with taking a giant obelisk from the Temple of Isis at Philae, and selling it to some British dude to put on his country estate.

But what I’m saying is that we could look at Belzoni as just filling a role. There were many others running around Egypt at the time — in fact, an arch-nemesis once had his men pull a gun on Belzoni. So in his mind, if his behavior led to some destructive decisions, then so be it. 

Glory, Unsealed

Over the years, Belzoni spent quite a bit of time in the old city of Thebes, now known as Luxor. Many of the ancient sites we know of today are located right here — including the famous Temple of Karnak.

Across the Nile, not too far from the Ramesseum is a location given a place of honor in every book about Ancient Egypt.

It’s known as the Valley of the Kings. Home to over 60 royal tombs…and others may still be hidden beneath the rock.

Many believe one of the reasons Pharaohs stopped building tombs inside of Pyramids was because those were beacons to robbers — massive monuments broadcasting treasure.

Here in the valley, everything is underground, meant to remain private. Meant to remain buried.

Some tombs have been open since antiquity, and even hold ancient graffiti from the Greeks and Romans. Others have been utterly destroyed, fallen prey to flash floods — like the one built for Ramesses II.

Belzoni himself uncovered some, which led to him breaking through walls and candidly mentioning acts like pulling the hair out of female mummies.

Eventually, he discovers a tomb which is arguably the most impressive in the Valley of the Kings, and possibly the most impressive in the entire world.

It takes several days for Belzoni’s men to pull away debris as they make their way inside. He becomes impatient, and speaks of how the men keep wanting to give up.

“The more I saw, the more I was eager to see, such being the nature of man.”

Belzoni’s discovery was incomparable. It’s the reason his name is still known today. 

This tomb is the longest and the deepest in the entire Valley of the Kings. Nothing quite like it had been seen before, and nothing quite like it has been seen since.

Belzoni’s torch was the first light to illuminate these walls in over three thousand years. The art was so well preserved…so untouched…he even found paintbrushes still on the ground.

This is the Tomb of Seti I: King of Upper and Lower Egypt, father of Ramesses II. It’s easy to see why many consider this to be the height of Ancient Egyptian art.

For Belzoni, his dull, scientific language goes out the window. The man is absolutely enchanted.

“I may call this a fortunate day, one of the best perhaps of my life…she has given me that satisfaction, that extreme pleasure, which wealth cannot purchase; the pleasure of discovering what has been long sought in vain, and of presenting the world with a new and perfect monument of Egyptian antiquity, which can be recorded as superior to any other in point of grandeur, style, and preservation, appearing as if just finished on the day we entered it; and what I found in it will show its great superiority to all others.”

As bright and exquisite as these painted reliefs are, for the Ancient Egyptians, beauty wasn’t the goal. To them, “art” simply didn’t have the same meaning as it does to us.

Every word has a wish. Every image, an intent. The purpose of this tomb was, as some have put it: to serve the king as a resurrection machine.

As the sun sets and rises again, as the Nile floods and recedes, bringing new growth — death was simply a stage in a cycle. And all of what Belzoni saw — all of what we see now — was specifically designed to help Seti be reborn in the afterlife.

On pillars, we see Seti being greeted by various gods, who will hopefully aid him on his quest. On the walls, Ancient Egyptian funerary texts — we see similar scenes in many royal tombs.

The general tale being told is that of Ra, the sun god, in his journey in a solar boat through the underworld. He begins with the setting of the sun, faces a number of challenges, then unites with the god of the afterlife Osiris before being reborn the next morning. The idea is that it reflects the journey Seti would make as he attempts to be resurrected in the afterlife. These words and images would serve as a roadmap, providing Seti with invaluable information.

And then, the burial chamber itself, where Seti’s sarcophagus and body once sat.

Arching above, the “astronomical ceiling,” featuring a few of the main constellations of the time.

In one section, you can see what’s basically a chart. These represent what are called the “decans,” 36 different star configurations used to mark the passage of time based on their positioning in the sky.

The chart shows the number of stars in each decan, along with their names and representative gods and goddesses. This ceiling reflects the heavens, aiding Seti’s journey upwards.

As for Seti himself and his sarcophagus…they’re long gone.

Glory, Defiled

If we’re going to be completely fair to Belzoni, the pillaging of the Tomb of Seti I started long ago. As is the case with most every tomb in the Valley of the Kings — and I assume you know of the main exception, the Tomb of Tutamkhamen — it was raided by tomb robbers way back in antiquity.

As a matter of fact, Ancient Egyptians moved Seti’s mummy and hid it in another tomb, presumably to keep it safe.

But Belzoni did find treasure here…just not in the way you might think.

To be sure, he did find a few objects, like small statues called “shabtis,” meant to perform tasks for Seti in the afterlife.

And there’s that much larger object I keep mentioning: the sarcophagus. Carved from solid alabaster, it’s truly a work of art. But it’s no longer where it was found.

Belzoni had it dragged up into the light — and no, believe it or not, it wasn’t sold to the British Museum. They took a pass when they heard the price. It went to a British architect by the name of Sir John Soane, who knocked out a wall in his house just so he could move it inside.

What do you do when you’ve got an awesome new centerpiece for your giant collection of artifacts? Well…you have a party, obviously. Or in this case, three parties.

Soane attracted quite the crowds of the London elite, including famed British poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge. I’m guessing that made it worth the modern equivalent of $200,000 Soane paid for the sarcophagus.

But all things considered, removing the sarcophagus wasn’t all that bad. Sure, Belzoni didn’t find any golden masks, like Howard Carter would about a hundred years later. But to Belzoni, the tomb itself was the treasure.

Here’s what he had to say, when a local leader came for a tour after hearing rumors of gold:

“What was on the walls of this extraordinary place did not attract his attention in the least; all the striking figures and lively paintings were lost on him; his views were directed to the treasure alone; and his numerous followers were like hounds, searching in every hole and corner.”

I’d like you to keep his disdain in mind as we reach the apex of this tale. See if you’re able to balance Belzoni’s praise for this tomb on one side, and what he did on the other.

For starters, remember how I said flash floods wreaked havoc in many of these tombs? Belzoni knew this was an issue, and apparently he started working on dikes to redirect the flow…but never bothered to finish.

What happened? You guessed it. Flood waters. I can’t get over the fact that this place was sealed up for three thousand years, and then…Belzoni’s inaction basically meant he blasted the walls with a fire hose.

But let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. Let’s say that was just an honest mistake, and he didn’t realize how much damage a torrent of water and mud might cause to delicate plaster reliefs and paint.

Now, Belzoni spent a lot of time in this tomb, documenting his find — we’ll get to the reasons why in a minute — but the man didn’t just document. He wasn’t just a passive observer.

Belzoni made squeezes.

“Squeezes” are molds, using wax, plaster, and vegetable fibers. The best way I can explain it was like pressing Play-Doh on the walls. And yes, it would pull away paint.

Later, tourists visiting the tomb took their own squeezes. And the spots where squeezes were made are still quite obvious when you know what to look for.

Others just decided to take home chunks of the walls as souvenirs. And future explorers took away entire reliefs. You can still see these in museums in places like Berlin or the Louvre.

Now, it’s hard for me to tell what Belzoni did, and what was done by others. Sure, it’s easy to tell where squeezes were made…it kind of sticks out…but this all gets to the point I keep coming back to.

How much can we really blame Belzoni? Should we just *be* brazen Belzoni bashers?

Well, Belzoni was hardly the worst. Remember the supposed “bust of Memnon”? You might have noticed a giant hole on the right side of his chest; that was drilled by the French, who planned on stuffing it with dynamite. They thought if they blew it up, it’d be easier to move.

Or how about the Nubian Pyramids built by the Kushites in modern Sudan. Another Italian explorer named Giuseppe Ferlini visited in the 1830s and just…blew them up.

He destroyed over 40 of them, looking for…you guessed it…treasure.

And on a much smaller but far more widespread scale, graffiti left by European tourists. It’s everywhere in Egypt.

But to an extent, we have to judge people based on the popular sense of ethics at the time. There really wasn’t a sense of honor and reverence for ancient civilizations back then.

So can we bash Belzoni for everything that happened in the Tomb of Seti I? No. Does that mean we let him off the hook? Also…no.

Maybe we can just look at the damage done on both sides of the Nile as simply part of history…something we can learn from, and be a little lenient with the presumptuous perpetrators.

And for the most part, we do know better today. A group known as the Factum Foundation scanned the entirety of the tomb and created a 3D model, preserving it digitally. They also made a replica of part of the tomb, and even recreated the sarcophagus itself.

And they got a little help on their resurrection of the past, from the past. They know what the tomb used to look like, from a gentleman we’ve come to know quite well: Giovanni Battista Belzoni.

Strongman, Reborn

The Great Belzoni is BACK.

Now, I’ve told a bit of this tale out of order. Belzoni actually left the tomb, went to the Pyramids, then came back. Why? Well, he was a man with a plan.

As I said, there weren’t any golden masks in the Tomb of Seti I — so Belzoni turned the tomb itself *into the treasure.

And I’ve also told you Belzoni was no da Vinci. He was no da Vinci in the realm of engineering, and he was also no da Vinci when it came to being an artist…but Belzoni was an artist.

You see, most of the drawings featured here were drawn by his own hand.

Yeah, they aren’t exactly the Last Supper, but they get the job done — and they were good practice. Because as much as he tried to run from it, as much as he wanted to leave the Great Belzoni buried in the sand — at his heart, Giovanni Belzoni was a showman.

The Great Belzoni went back to London, and he wasn’t coming empty handed: He brought an army of squeezes, and a legion of drawings.

And what’s more, he arrived with a chip on his shoulder the size of the bust of Memnon.

He’d had repeated arguments with Henry Salt over who owned what, and who got credit — and what’s more, European publications were confusing him with other explorers, handing his acclaim to others.

The Great Belzoni was going to show London just who the hell he was. 

In a world before radio, before television, before wacky cat videos from the comfort of your bed…The Great Belzoni brought the wonders of the world…to them.

He secured a spot in the Egyptian Hall on Piccadilly street, right down the road from the square known as Piccadilly Circus…for a show. For his show. For THE show.

And if there’s one thing this performer knew how to do, it was sell tickets. He captivated the upper crust by advertising at their favorite pastime: a mummy party.

And out on the street, the sign spinners of the 19th Century, telling one, telling all, about the show that simply couldn’t be missed.

Inside the Egyptian Hall, amid the décor, past the columns styled just like those in Ancient Egypt, the place that became known as “Belzoni’s Tomb.” Drawings? Sure. Artifacts? You bet. But at the heart of this show, the masterpiece itself. The replica. Two rooms from the Tomb of Seti I, recreated thanks to Belzoni’s meticulous work.

The show takes London by storm. It’s a smash. The only thing more prized than a mummy party was a Belzoni party, where you could have your friends over to your parlor to meet the man himself.

He publishes his book — yes, the one with the obscenely long title. Fortune and glory was now his!

But you didn’t really think this tale had a happy ending, did you?

Belzoni takes his show on the road, down to Paris. Let’s just say it’s not as popular as it was in London, leaving his future a bit shrouded.

And thus, the Great Belzoni went home.

No, not back to Padua, in northern Italy. I guess you could say he set sail for the only place he felt truly alive — the great unknown.

His goal was to trace the course of the Niger River in West Africa, and to be the first European to visit the ancient city of Timbuktu.

The Great Belzoni never made it. And what’s more, he fell prey to the most microscopic of foes, contracting a case of dysentery. Here’s what he had to say in one of his final letters, speaking of his illness:

“All I can say is that I am fully resigned to my fate, and I beg pardon of anyone I may happened to have offended in my past life, begging their prayers for my next.”

He wrote another letter after that. It’s nearly illegible.

Explorer? Yes. Destroyer? Absolutely. But despite all his flaws and contradictions, Belzoni can also be remembered as a man whose often painstaking documentation helped lay the foundation for modern archaeology — and a man whose popularization of Ancient Egypt helped spark the imaginations of future explorers.

Giovanni Battista Belzoni died on a Wednesday in December of 1823, in a village in what’s now the country of Nigeria. He was only 45 years old. It’s said he was buried beneath the branches of a tree.

Whether you see him as a bold adventurer who explored a place where the lone and level sands stretch far away, or simply remember him as self-centered plunderer, few could ever live up to his list of achievements.

And so, as this traveler from an antique land has now left this boundless realm of unending change, perhaps we should look to a famous poem by Percy Shelley, who wrote of that colossal bust Belzoni brought to London: “Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.”