So the throne survives to tell us, not only of the wonderful artistic skill of the Egyptian craftsman of 3300 years ago, but also of the difficulties and inconsistencies of such a period of transition as that in which Tutankhamen’s lot was cast. On the stele which he set up at Karnak, and which is now in the Cairo Museum, the king has described the miserable state of the kingdom on his accession. “When His Majesty became King of the South, the whole country was in a state of chaos, similar to that in which it had been in primeval times. From Elephantine to the Swamps of the Delta the properties of the temples of the gods and goddesses had been destroyed, their shrines were in a state of ruin, and their estates had become a desert. Weeds grew in the courts of the temples.” He tells us of the wonders of restoration which he accomplished when “Egypt and the Red Land came under his supervision, and every land greeted his will with bowings of submission.” But Horemheb’s Coronation Inscription suggests a somewhat different state of affairs from the picture of restored prosperity which Tutankhamen presents, and the hatred with which the later monarch pursued the memory of his predecessor hints that the reign of the half-heretic king was but reluctantly accepted, as a stage on the way to the full restoration of the ancient state of affairs--a stage whose fitting emblem is the throne with its symbols of the old faith and the new intermingled. One of the most interesting among the finds of the outer chamber is that of the boxes containing royal robes, both of the King and the Queen. Whether it may be found possible to preserve permanently these exquisitely dainty fabrics remains to be seen; meanwhile it may be said that what has been seen of them enhances our respect for the skill of the weavers of the XVIIIth Dynasty who wrought such superlatively fine stuffs. Incidentally, the Queen’s robes give us a curious link with the Egypt of a day far earlier than even that of Tutankhamen.