A History of Archaeological Tourism: Pursuing leisure and knowledge from the eighteenth century to World War II (SpringerBriefs in Archaeological Heritage Management) [1st ed. 2019] 3030320758, 9783030320751

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SPRINGER BRIEFS IN ARCHAEOLOGY ARCHAEOLOGICAL HERITAGE MANAGEMENT

Margarita Díaz-Andreu

A History of Archaeological Tourism Pursuing Leisure and Knowledge From the Eighteenth Century to World War II 123

SpringerBriefs in Archaeology Archaeological Heritage Management

Series Editors: Douglas C. Comer Helaine Silverman Friedrich Lüth

More information about this series at http://www.springer.com/series/10187

Margarita Díaz-Andreu

A History of Archaeological Tourism Pursuing Leisure and Knowledge From the Eighteenth Century to World War II

Margarita Díaz-Andreu ICREA (Institució Catalana de Recerca i Estudis Avançats) Universitat de Barcelona Barcelona, Spain

ISSN 1861-6623     ISSN 2192-4910 (electronic) SpringerBriefs in Archaeology ISSN 2192-5313     ISSN 2192-5321 (electronic) SpringerBriefs in Archaeological Heritage Management ISBN 978-3-030-32075-1    ISBN 978-3-030-32077-5 (eBook) https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32077-5 © The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 This work is subject to copyright. All rights are reserved by the Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology now known or hereafter developed. The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc. in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for general use. The publisher, the authors, and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and information in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. This Springer imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature Switzerland AG The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland

Acknowledgements

This book has taken much longer to write than expected. In a way, it is the product of a series of projects, beginning with my discovery of the importance of tourism in the development of Spanish archaeology while writing the biography of José Ramón Mélida (Díaz-Andreu 2004, “Mélida: génesis, pensamiento y obra de un maestro”: see especially pages CXXXIII–CXXXIX). This led me to encourage César Villalobos to write his doctoral dissertation about this relationship in Mexico (Villalobos Acosta 2011, Durham University) and, thanks to a grant from Santander Universities, to co-organize a session at TAG 2009, which was partially published in the International Journal of Historical Archaeology (Díaz-Andreu and Villalobos Acosta 2013,  International Journal of Historical Archaeology 17(2)). Villalobos then put together a volume on archaeological tourism in Anales de Antropología 48(2) (Villalobos Acosta 2014), for which I wrote the article that served as the seeds of this book (Díaz-Andreu 2014). I therefore owe César Villalobos, now professor at the UNAM University (Mexico), much for the many conversations with him that kept my interest in this topic alive and indeed led it to grow. While writing this volume, other projects have supported this undertaking. Both in my previous department at Durham and now in Barcelona, I have found a positive environment for the history of archaeology, with colleagues interested in the subject. In the latter department, I belong to the GRAP research group (SGR 243, SGR 01142, SGR 1273) which has a focus on the history of archaeology. In the last few years, I have also been the principal investigator in two projects funded by the Spanish Ministry of Economy and Competitiveness, “Archaeology Without Frontiers” (2013–2016, HAR2012-34033, SinFronteras) and “Archaeology and Interdisciplinarity” (2017–2019, HAR2016-80271-P, Interarq 2017–2019). I have to thank all the team members of both projects for the many stimulating discussions held in the different activities organized throughout the years. For this book, many colleagues have helped with bibliography, comments, sending me material, and many other tasks. Among the latest to help in a key stage of the project were Dr. Michael Rainsbury and Dr. Marta Portillo. Finally, I would like to thank the editors of the ICAHM book series and the Springer executive editor for Archaeology and Anthropology for their support. v

Contents

1 Introduction����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������     1 Archaeological Tourism: Handmaiden to Studies of the Development of Archaeology������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������     1 Tourism Studies: An Interdisciplinary Perspective������������������������������������     2 This Book��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������     5 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������     8 2 From Travel to Tourism��������������������������������������������������������������������������    13 Introduction������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    13 Leisure Travel in Antiquity and Other Traditions��������������������������������������    13 The Power of the Past in Medieval and Early Modern Europe������������������    18 The Grand Tour������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    23 Conclusion ������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    27 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    27 3 The Early Years of Archaeological Tourism: From 1800 to 1870��������    31 Introduction������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    31 Global Monumentalization: Creating Archaeology’s Infrastructure����������    34 Archaeology and the Leisure Industry: The Pioneers��������������������������������    39 Touring Europe: Mysterious Ruins and Museums��������������������������������    40 Touring the Archaeology of the Great Civilizations������������������������������    45 Conclusions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    51 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    51 4 Promoting the National Past. Archaeology and Tourism in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries������������������������    57 Tourism from the 1870s to the Great War��������������������������������������������������    57 Visiting Classical Antiquities��������������������������������������������������������������������    59 The Lure of Egypt��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    63 Going beyond Italy, Greece and Egypt������������������������������������������������������    67

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Contents

Latin America as a Tourist Destination������������������������������������������������������    70 Visiting Antiquities in the Home Country ������������������������������������������������    71 Conclusions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    77 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    79 5 Archaeological Tourism From the Great War to the End of World War II����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    85 Introduction������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    85 The Growth of a Giant: Tourism in the Interwar Years������������������������������    86 The Extended “Happy 1920s” ��������������������������������������������������������������    86 Black Tuesday and World War II: Two Debacles with Different Consequences����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������    88 Archaeological Tourism Until 1945����������������������������������������������������������    89 Archaeological Tourism in Europe and Asia ����������������������������������������    89 America: Visiting Indigenous Sites and Moving South������������������������    98 The Promotion of Archaeological Tourism by Right-Wing Dictatorships����������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   102 Archaeological Tourism in Fascist Italy������������������������������������������������   102 Archaeological Tourism in National Socialist Germany ����������������������   106 Conclusions������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   109 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   110 6 Conclusions: Combining Leisure and Tourism From the Eighteenth Century to World War II����������������������������������������������   117 References��������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������������   121

About the Author

Margarita Díaz-Andreu  is an ICREA Research Professor based in the University of Barcelona (UB). She is the PI of the Group of Public Archaeology and Heritage (www.gapp.cat) at her university and has led several projects as PI such as the Spanish team of the EU-funded project ‘Heritage Values Network’. Her areas of research are the history of archaeological heritage, archaeological tourism, migration and the politics of heritage. She is interested in public archaeology and community heritage from different perspectives: cultural tourism, world heritage, citizen participation, immigration and the conservation of cultural goods. She and her team are currently prioritizing projects related to heritage from a social perspective, addressing the problems of today’s society. Her research group has as one of its priorities the development of new methodologies in social heritage, including some in-depth research on focus groups. She is also encouraging participative projects that give voice to society and serve as a bridge between society, academia and institutions dealing with the management of archaeological heritage. The author of A World History of Nineteenth-Century Archaeology (OUP 2007), her first thoughts on the history of archaeological tourism were written in 2004. Since then, she has published a special issue on archaeological tourism in the International Journal of Historical Archaeology (2013) and several articles on this topic.

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Chapter 1

Introduction

 rchaeological Tourism: Handmaiden to Studies A of the Development of Archaeology Archaeological sites have long attracted people’s attention and have lured visitors from other places to travel to see and experience them. My interest in this book is to explain how tourism for curiosity and tourism for leisure played out around ruins. It is also to disentangle if the development of archaeological tourism has been separated from the emergence and development of archaeology as a profession. Scholarly discussions have largely treated them as distinct, unconnected fields. Histories of archaeology, in particular, have focused their attention on aspects such as the history of archaeological discoveries (Daniel 1975), archaeological thought (Trigger 2006) and, more recently, the political relationship between archaeology, nationalism and other ideologies (Aronsson and Elgenius 2011; Díaz-Andreu 2007; McNiven and Russell 2005). Although there are exceptions (Himmelmann 1976), what has been largely missing from all these accounts is an examination of how, in parallel to its development as a professional discipline, archaeology has always been an integral part of society. One example of this is leisure, an activity that all people enjoy, in the form of archaeological tourism. Goeldner and Brent Ritchie (2012) devote a few pages to this subject in their handbook. Walker and Carr (2013) have also recently published a book with some chapters seeking to address the history of archaeological tourism. A few doctoral theses have also discussed it, the earliest being Myriam Bacha’s 2005 study of monumental heritage in Tunisia under the French protectorate published in 2013 (Bacha 2013). I personally supervised two PhDs on this subject, one by César Villalobos and the other by Qian Gao. Villalobos explored the relationship between nationalism and tourism in twentieth-century Mexico (Villalobos Acosta 2011). Gao provides a good summary of the evolution of tourism in China (Gao 2016a, b). To my knowledge, the latest doctoral thesis written on the subject, or at least to have included a good discussion of the history of ­archaeological

© The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 M. Díaz-Andreu, A History of Archaeological Tourism, SpringerBriefs in Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32077-5_1

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1 Introduction

tourism, was presented in 2016 (Gómez Díaz 2018). Its author, Ana Gómez Díaz, analyzed the first period of the opening of the Roman cemetery of Carmona to the public between 1881 and 1931. There are, of course, some articles related to a particular period or country and these will be mentioned in the different chapters of this book (see, for example, Mercado López 2016 or Thornton 2012). Finally, a first overview of archaeological tourism was produced a few years ago for an edited volume published by Villalobos (Villalobos Acosta 2014) and this book is an expansion of my contribution to it (Díaz-Andreu 2014).

Tourism Studies: An Interdisciplinary Perspective Just as histories of archaeology have largely ignored the connection between archaeology and tourism, this has also happened in the reverse direction. The field of tourism studies was born in Central Europe in German-speaking countries (Austria, Germany and Switzerland). In 1905, the economist Josef Stradner published one of the first publications analyzing tourism, Tourism: An Economic Study (Stradner 1905). Like that book, most of the early literature on tourism looked at it from an economic perspective and it was within economics that tourism became a university discipline, mainly in countries such as Italy and Germany from the 1920s. From 1928 the Berlin Forschungsinstitut für den Fremdenverkehr (Research Institute for Tourism) established itself as a leading research institution. In the 1930s it began to publish a journal, Archive für den Fremdenverkehr (Archive of Tourism), which was inaugurated with an article by the German sociologist and economist, Leopold von Wiese, now considered one of the pioneers of tourism theory (Spode 2009: 69). It was at this time that the first book in English on the economics of tourism was published by the Chair of Political Economy at Edinburgh University, Frederick W. Ogilvie (1933). It was soon followed by that of the South African businessman and economist, Arthur J. Norval (1936). The importance of leisure for right-wing dictatorships, something that will be discussed in Chap. 5, was behind the organization of a first World Congress on Leisure and Recreation in Hamburg in 1936 and second in Rome soon after (Spode 2009: 70). The German Research Institute for Tourism was emulated during and after World War II by others in Switzerland, Austria and both Germanies (GDR and GFR) and led to the expansion of these studies into other disciplines, starting with geography (Spode 2009: 70–73). An Association Internationale d’Experts Scientifiques du Tourisme (AIEST, International Association of Scientific on Tourism) was founded in 1949 and published the Tourist Review. In the GFR another other mainstream journal of this period was published by the Munich Institute, the Jahrbuch für Fremdenverkehr (Tourism Yearbook) (Spode 2009: 73). In that country the integration of psychology and sociology in tourism studies took place between the 1950s and the early 1970s, when the study of tourism was taken over by a Studienkreis für Tourismus (StfT, Study Circle for Tourism), which looked at the psychological and sociological motives behind tourism (Spode 2009: 74–78). In addition to Germany,

Tourism Studies: An Interdisciplinary Perspective

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the field of tourism studies also developed in France. There, leisure studies were led by Joffré Dumazedier, the chair of the Research Committee on Leisure at the International Sociological Association (ISA) in 1953. He also assembled an interdisciplinary group of specialists from the fields of economics, geography, history, linguistics, mathematics and sociology (Lanfant 2009: 115). Dumazedier’s 1962 volume on Vers une Civilisation du Loisir? (Towards a Sociology of Leisure?) was key in the development of tourism studies in France (Lanfant 2009). Germany and France were not the only ones to build up tourism studies, as there were also parallel developments in other countries all over Europe (Dann and Parrinello 2009). The marked growth of tourism after World War II and an increasing awareness of its economic importance ultimately led to an explosion in the creation of university departments and journals of tourism studies in the 1970s and early 1980s (Nash 2007: 226). The earlier dominance of German-speaking scholars in the field of tourism studies was increasingly challenged by research written in English. This took place from the 1970s and was spearheaded by economists, sociologists, anthropologists and, to some extent, historians (Towner and Wall 1991). This impetus was assisted by the appearance of new journals such as the Annals of Tourism Research (from 1973). In sociology, two names stand out, Erik Cohen and Dean MacCannell. Cohen’s major contribution to the field was to establish a much-needed typology of tourists, distinguishing between the institutionalized tourist (the organized and individual mass tourist) and the non-institutionalized tourist (the explorer and the drifter) (Cohen 1972). He argued that mass tourists wanted to visit (genuine or contrived) attractions. However, for them to have this experience and the illusion of adventure, while not facing any of the risks or uncertainties, the attractions had to be transformed or manipulated. Their transformation provided controlled novelty, whereas standardization made things sufficiently familiar. Cohen argues that tourism did not destroy myths about foreign countries, but reinforced them (Cohen 1972). For his part, MacCannell’s first theoretical synthesis, The Tourist. A New Theory of the Leisure Class (MacCannell 1976), aimed to present an ethnography of modernity and mainly of the middle classes. In his analysis, he gave special importance to sightseeing and authenticity as a way of counteracting a feeling of the spuriousness and superficiality of modern life. Another major work of this period was Louis Turner and John Ash’s The Golden Hordes (Turner and Ash 1975). The book provided a diachronic view of tourism, from travel to tourism, the latter being facilitated by trains, cars and airplanes. Another important contribution to the field was the book edited by Valene L. Smith, Hosts and Guests: The Anthropology of Tourism (Smith 1977), in which tourism was understood as a form of imperialism, a source of marginality and cultural commoditization. Many others would join these early authors in the 1980s, and especially in the 1990s. They came from diverse fields, including cultural studies, literature and history, exploring their relationship with tourism (Buzard 1993; Herbert 1995; Koshar 1998; Nordman 1997; Stewart 1993; Withey 1997). In anthropology and sociology, after a period of impasse following the first impetus mentioned above, the publication of the influential The Tourist Gaze constituted a watershed. According its

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author, the sociologist John Urry, tourism is about the pleasurable consumption of experiences different to those people are normally subjected to in their everyday life. It is a consumption that implies travel and gazing, a gaze that is anticipated, structured by pre-existing cultural images. Urry analyzed tourists’ expectations from the social experience of tourism and, importantly, he also discussed the heritage industry, although mainly in relation to the contemporary period. As seen from the brief account provided so far, tourism as a research field has developed from its early origins in economics to encompass a multitude of disciplines today: cultural anthropology, economy, geography, psychology, sociology, social history, history and literature. Nevertheless, perhaps with the exception of the last two, their practitioners have been reluctant to engage with archaeology, especially in the earlier periods of the study of tourism. In some cases, it is surprising how antiquities and archaeology have been ignored. This can be seen in books such as Alan Sillitoe’s otherwise excellent volume on guidebooks, in which the chapter about Rome and Naples mentions nothing about visiting archaeological ruins in Rome (although Pompeii is briefly examined when discussing Naples) (Sillitoe 1996: 104–106). The literature on today’s relationship between archaeology and tourism has been rapidly growing since the 1980s (for some of the earliest articles see Gale 1985; Shoup 1985; Fowler 1986; Kirch and Kirch 1987; Masson 1987; Reynaud 1987; McEwan et al. 1993). For the period before the appearance of tourism in the nineteenth century, historians and scholars of literature studies, from very early on, demonstrated a particular fascination for everything related to the Grand Tour (see bibliography in Towner 1985). This subject has also been embraced in a limited way by archaeologists themselves, looking, for example, at the production of copies (and fakes) for the tourist market (Luzón Nogué 2003) and the antiquarian as a traveler (Harlan 2009). For the period after the Grand Tour it is much rarer to find literature dealing specifically with the relationship between tourism and archaeology in the period considered in this volume: the nineteenth and twentieth centuries up to World War II. In addition to the aforementioned doctoral theses and other articles produced by their authors, the following can be highlighted. Firstly, we find a series of articles on the display of archaeology and monuments at universal exhibitions, where information on tourism is more implied than explicitly examined (see, for example, Baptiste 2013; Graff 2011; Mendelson 2004; Müller-Scheessel 2001). There have also been some articles and books that discuss the evolution of the presentation of particular sites to the public and include a fair amount of information about visitors. Examples of this deal with sites as diverse as Ampurias (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016), the Anasazi Cliff Dwellings of Manitou Springs (Lovata 2011), Angkor Wat (Demay 2014; Falser 2013), Carmona (Gómez Díaz 2006; Rodríguez Temiño et al. 2015); Machu Picchu (Rice 2017); Petra (Shoup 1985), the prehistoric pile dwellings around Lake Zurich Wetzikon-Robenhausen (Altorfer 2004) and Stonehenge (Richards 2005), to mention a few of those that will be dealt with in this book. Finally, there is also a series of articles on the relationship between tourism and Roman archaeology during the Mussolini’s dictatorship (Jacobelli 2008; Laurence 1999, 2005; Rowland 2014; Veronese 2014), as well as the use of archaeological tourism in Nazi Germany (Gob 2007; Schöbel 1999; Schöbel 2015).

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This Book The book will examine the development of archaeological tourism in the modern world. It will do so by looking at this connection diachronically, from the early modern period until World War II.  Archaeological tourism is understood in this book as a leisure activity consisting of experiencing the past by visiting either archaeological sites or institutions with information about them targeted at the general public. It is an act of consumption in which, in a process that began in the nineteenth century, the material remains of past cultures have been commodified; in other words, experiencing the past has acquired a value in the market economy. Throughout the last two centuries first antiquarians, and then archaeologists, have been  important actors in this process, as they have  authenticated archaeological sites and objects that have then be visited by the general public. As shown in this volume, in some cases they have also actively participated in tourism through the production of guidebooks and other literature for tourists and have created and maintained museums for visitors, as they still do. However, in their relationship with tourism they have only been a fraction of those involved in the business, a group that has included travel agencies, hoteliers, tour guides, publishing companies and a long list of other stakeholders. An appraisal of the mediated nature of heritage in its sociopolitical, cultural and economic framework is one of the objectives of this volume. Regarding society, a key issue relating to the development of tourism is the availability of leisure time and this, especially in when tourism emerged as a leisure industry, was linked to class. In this book the chapters following this one will reveal when the middle and working classes were given time to spend visiting archaeological sites and museums and to what extent they could afford to do so. Also linked to the amount of available leisure time and personal wealth was the question of transport, as many sites were far away and the cost of reaching them was also related to the necessary traveling time. In the period discussed in this book the main means of transport were the carriage, train, bicycle, car and finally the airplane. Each of them expanded the geographical scope and/or affordability of likely sites to visit. One of the issues this book will insist on is the connection between archaeological tourism and nationalism, paying particular attention to the institutionalization of archaeology and tourism, first in the Western world and then in its colonies and areas of influence. From the outset, archaeological tourism was indirectly supported by the state, as this created the necessary infrastructure in terms of access roads and transport. The state also sustained tourism by funding officers to protect the sites, paying for excavations, building museums and encouraging the setting up of societies. If the state was willing to pay for the infrastructure that then became necessary for archaeological tourism, it was because of the importance of history (and therefore archaeology) for the legitimation of the nation. Tourism contributed to modern nation-building by creating distinctive national symbols that could be read by locals and foreigners alike. However, it could also be said that, at the same time, tourism standardized cultural differences. The way in which the past was presented in the

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nineteenth and early twentieth centuries became regularized in such a way that tourists increasingly found an almost standard list of cultural products in connection with archaeological monuments: postcards, photographs, tourist guidebooks and souvenirs, as well as transport, local guides, restaurants and hotels. The way in which archaeological sites and museums were presented to be consumed, experienced and felt became transnational and similar wherever tourists were in the world. After this introduction, in Chap. 2 a distinction is made between travel and tourism and an account of the former is presented throughout history up to the appearance of tourism. A brief overview of travelers in Mesopotamia, Egypt, Minoan and Mycenaean Greece, Rome and ancient China will be provided, emphasizing those that give us some information about ancient objects and ruins. During the medieval period, pilgrimage will be highlighted as the main reason for travel, although there are some indications of a certain continuity in the interest in the classical past. In the fifteenth century, the new language of power created in Italy based on the classics led to the birth of the historical monument and the renewed importance of Roman ruins. The early modern period saw the continuous expansion of the geography known to Europeans and the finding of territories new to them. Travelers began to visit classical antiquities in situ and wrote about them in numerous travel accounts. It was mainly in the eighteenth century that the Grand Tour, a long journey undertaken by young, wealthy men (and some women), most of them from northern Europe, came to be considered as an important part of a correct upbringing. Traveling to Italy grew to be main focus of this education, including visits to the classical ruins to learn about the Classics from them. Importantly, the chapter will also reveal how learned individuals began to journey in their own countries and to pay special attention to the ancient remains they found in them. Chapter 3 examines the early years of archaeological tourism, from 1800 to 1870, decades that began with the shift from the Grand Tour to tourism in the context of a series of profound transformations in the Western world. These not only included the emergence of nationalism, with its emphasis on history and monuments, but also the rise of the middle classes and leisure. In addition to these there was the appearance of a new way of controlling of time and the influence of the industrial revolution on the means of transport. An important component of the first tourist books and organized trips were churches and castles, while a few classical sites were also mentioned. Although the era of the Grand Tour had come to an end, traveling to the classical lands did not stop and, as soon as the tourism business blossomed, tourist guidebooks and organized tours appeared on the market. Examples of this were the first handbooks on Italy of 1843 produced by John Murray and the tours of that country organized by Thomas Cook from 1850. Rome, Pompeii and many Etruscan tombs became tourist magnets at that time. In addition to Italy, Egypt also was the object of some tourist trips, with the first tourist guidebook being published by Murray in 1847. Classical antiquities were also displayed in the large museums of Europe and in a few popular exhibits in addition to the world fairs, starting with the Great Exhibition of London in 1851. Archaeological tourism from the 1870s to the early decades of the twentieth century is the focus of Chap. 4. The widening of the social base interested in t­ ourism, including archaeological tourism, led to an increase in visitor numbers at sites and

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to the beginnings of an infrastructure to control access to them. There also were new ways of seeing, assisted not only by the increasing number of printed guidebooks, but also by the development of photography and particularly its use in postcards. The souvenir industry also made a timid appearance, although it still competed with the sales of actual antiquities and fakes. Tourist destinations expanded to include areas not previously considered, such as North Africa, India and Mexico. Archaeological sites were visited not only abroad, but also in the home countries, as the examples of Stonehenge and Ampurias illustrate. In addition, particular sites such as Roman theaters and amphitheaters saw alternative uses. This began in 1884  in Pompeii, when the amphitheater was used for a charity event, a performance organized to raise funds to help those affected by the earthquake on the island of Ischia the previous year. The period between the First and the Second World Wars is the main focus of Chap. 5. These were the years of the apogee of nationalism, the rise in right-wing populism, a growing awareness of the economic potential of tourism and the establishment of state and international institutions to manage it. Means of transport continued to develop, now with the appearance in the Western world of the car, the bicycle and the very first commercial flights. All this facilitated visits to archaeological sites by a public that was benefitting from new legislation on paid vacations. In the Western world, excavation funding centered on sites to be opened to visitors and organized excursions became more and more frequent, along with the publication of guidebooks and the creation of an accommodation infrastructure. The increase in visitors led to the installation of fences, the imposition of entrance fees and the appearance of the first signs of mass tourism. It also led to staged authenticity – a series of sites was recreated in other than their original location to facilitate the experience of the past, even though it was not genuine. Developments in Europe were closely followed by those in colonial North Africa, whereas Egypt experienced both a first interest in promoting domestic tourism and, after the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922, a new wave of Egyptomania. Some areas of the world became the object of archaeological tourism for the first time. This was the case of Jordan, Japan, Japanese-occupied Korea and French Indochina. In the United States interest in landscapes led to the development of the National Parks, where the first archaeologists were appointed. The financial crash of 1929 worked to the advantage of tourism, as one of the measures taken by the state during the Great Depression of the 1930s to boost the economy was to subsidize archaeological infrastructure. This included the funding of excavations, opening sites to the public and the preparation of state history and archaeology guidebooks. To the south of the US, in post-­ revolutionary Mexico, a cash-stricken state supported tourism as a way of obtaining foreign currency and this led to the promotion of visits to certain archaeological sites, especially in the central area of the country and, to a limited extent, the Yucatán Peninsula. Peru also promoted visits to both Cuzco and Machu Picchu in cooperation with the United States through the Good Neighbor Policy. A special case in the interwar years is that of the backing of archaeological tourism by right-wing dictatorships in Italy (and Italian-occupied lands) and Germany. The extent to which archaeology can both benefit and be greatly damaged by political interests is discussed in the final pages of the chapter.

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Villalobos Acosta, C. (2014). Turismo y arqueología. Anales de Antropología [dossier: Villalobos Acosta, C. (ed.) Turismo y arqueología], 48(2), 5–182. Walker, C., & Carr, N. (Eds.). (2013). Tourism and archaeology: Sustainable meeting grounds. Walnut Creek: Left Coast Press. Withey, L. (1997). Grand tours and Cook’s tours, a history of leisure travel 1750 to 1915. New York: William Morrow.

Chapter 2

From Travel to Tourism

Introduction This chapter investigates the allure of the past as felt throughout history up to the onset of tourism. The modern urge to experience the material remains of our predecessors is only a few centuries old, although, as will be seen in this chapter, it is rooted in some of the features that make us human. One of them is curiosity and a wonder about what lies beyond our own geographical area. Moving around the landscape can be traced back to our earliest homo ancestors, but this is not enough to explain our interest in past history. Migration and travel may have existed for millennia, but they have nothing to do with tourism. The latter will be the province of the following chapters, while this one will concentrate on travel and, in particular, on the ways it was done in the ancient, medieval and post-medieval worlds. Our focus in this chapter will be journeys that involved ancient monuments and antiquities. The chapter will end with an explanation of the period that preceded tourism, the Enlightenment. Of key importance in that period was the Grand Tour, a journey of several months embarked on by the younger members of the well-off classes to visit Italian arts and antiquities. The Grand Tour was the direct precedent of the development of a business to exploit leisure through the experience of antiquities.

Leisure Travel in Antiquity and Other Traditions People have traveled throughout their history, but tourism has only been around for the past two centuries. As soon as the genus homo made its appearance in the world, our ancestors began to move over long distances. This took them out of Africa for the first time about two million years ago. However, moving from one place to

© The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 M. Díaz-Andreu, A History of Archaeological Tourism, SpringerBriefs in Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32077-5_2

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another does not necessarily entail traveling, as the implication of travel is that there is a return to the starting point and this was not the case of the out-of-Africa migration. It also implies that only a small proportion of the whole population is moving. This makes travel an unfit concept to describe the cyclic movements of huntergatherer societies, as they move around a territory to exploit its various resources, although such a territory may be huge (see for example Carr (2005)). It was only when societies turned into productive economies that sedentarization and specialization made an appearance and traveling began. Nothing remains of the very early unmanned routes, although material culture shows us that objects and their human bearers sometimes traveled hundreds of miles (Baugh and Ericson 1994; Jones 2008: Chap. 7). It is much easier to document the existence of travel once roads made an appearance. This occurred with the emergence of the various state systems around the world, not only in Egypt and Mesopotamia, but also in China and the first American state societies. There are many reasons for traveling: business, scholarly, scientific, religious, personal (visiting relatives, for example), and leisure (Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 6), all of which were present, to a greater or lesser extent, in the early civilizations. Some of these journeys included an interest in ancient ruins or antiquities, and it will be on those that the account below will focus. The earliest information we have on travel and ancient monuments and antiquities refers to the area of Mesopotamia in the early second millennium BCE. The classicist and expert in maritime history Lionel Casson tells us of a letter written in around 1800 BCE in which a certain Uzalum was asked to bring back from a trip a fine string full of beads to be worn around the head. The friend or son who made this request suggested that if he could not find any, he should undertake an excavation: “If you have none at hand, dig it out of the ground wherever (such objects) are (found) and send it to me. I want it very much (…). It should be full (of beads) and should be beautiful” (in Casson 1974: 34–35). In the same geographical area, in around 1160 BCE, the king of Elam, Shutruck-Nahhunte, deposited and exhibited the booty snatched in his campaigns against several Babylonian towns in the main temple of the capital of his empire, Susa. It included the stelae of Naram-Sin, now in the Louvre. In the ninth century BCE, the king of Assyria also stored material seized in war from a temple and was responsible for moving obelisks from Thebes to Assur following his campaign against Egypt (Casson 1974: 238–9, see also Schnapp 1996:31–32). These trips were facilitated by the thoroughfares created by the different ancient civilizations that progressively occupied the area of Mesopotamia and that connected the main cities, allowing communication, transport and travel. By the second half of the third millennium, hollow ways serve as evidence of movement from town to town, with some longer cross-country routes spreading out hundreds of kilometers (Wilkinson et al. 2010). There was a system of hostels and even official posts to oversee the efficient functioning of the system (Casson 1974: 35–36). Paved roads were built much later by the Persian King Darius I (550-486 BCE) in the sixth century BCE and covered the route from Susa to Sardis (2699 km) (Casson 1974: 53).

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In ancient Egypt, the excellent preservation of inscriptions in the form of papyri, tomb inscriptions and graffiti on monuments has provided a rich source of information on ancient travel from the third millennium BCE (Casson 1974; Löschburg 1979: 10). However, the importance of ancient monuments is only made apparent in casual graffiti providing information about travel related to circumstances that, centuries later, would become common in tourism, such as leisure and education. The pyramids and the sphinx at Giza were already attracting visitors during the New Kingdom (c. 1550-1070  BCE). At the Abusir pyramid complex, a scribe, Ptah-­ Emwe, wrote in 1261 BCE that he had come with others “to contemplate the shadow of the pyramids after having been to present offerings to Sekhmet”. Two decades later, in 1244 BCE, another inscription was written at the step pyramid of Djoser at Giza: “Hadnakhte, scribe of the treasury, came to make an excursion and amuse himself on the west of Memphis together with his brother, Panakhti, scribe of the Vizier” (Casson 1974: 32). The scribes created a formula to write their graffiti: ‘Scribe So-and-So …, of the clever fingers came to see the temple of the blessed King So-and-So.’ In the thirteenth century BCE, an inscription records the trip made by a group, the School of the Nine, to see the Djoser pyramid (Casson 1974: 32–33). Trade in the Mediterranean received a boost at the time Minoan Crete became a sea power in the middle of the third millennium BCE. The island established regular sea trade routes with Greece, the Levantine coast and Egypt (Casson 1991: 18). In addition, around the mid-second millennium BCE, a road system with hostels and fortified posts was developed (Casson 1974: 36–37). There are many sources of information about traveling during the Mycenaean period. Much of what is described by Homer, for example, is likely to refer to the later Mycenaean period from c. 1600 BCE (Casson 1974: Chap. 3). Information on international trade is also derived from the spread of Mycenaean pottery and many other items around the central and western Mediterranean, as well as imports from Egypt and beyond (Casson 1991: 19). A third source for Mycenaean travel is shipwrecks, one of the most spectacular of which is that found at Ulu Burun, on the southwest coast of Asia Minor, and dated to around 1350 BCE. Its cargo of luxury goods from Cyprus, the Near East, Egypt and Mycenae reveals the considerable extent of trade at that time (Casson 1991: 26–28). However, there is nothing in the literature that points to an interest in ancient objects or monuments being behind the travel. There is plenty of evidence of the Greek taste for travel. In the fifth century BCE, Herodotus (484-425 BCE) visited many areas, not only in Greece, but also in the Aegean islands, Cyrene in North Africa, Egypt as far south as Elephantine (modern Aswan), Scythia and the Black Sea region, southern Italy and Sicily, and Asia Minor. In his descriptions he also showed an interest in ancient remains, such as the ancient city of Babylon that he described as: square in shape, with each side 14 miles long, a total of 56 miles. Babylon is not only of enormous size; it has a splendor such as no other city of all we have seen… The city wall is 85 1/2 feet wide and 342 high… Its circuit is pierced by one hundred entrances, with gates, jambs, and lintels of bronze… The town is full of three- and four-storey houses and is cut through with streets that are absolutely straight, not only the main ones but also the side streets going down to the river (in Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 33).

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This educational and research travel was also accompanied by another type more related to leisure, as we can see, once again, in Egypt. There, the Colossi of Memnon at Thebes were carved with the graffiti of names of Greek visitors in the fifth century BCE (Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 29). The pyramids had continued to be an object of curiosity with what we could today describe as guides who explained that they extended as far underground as they did into the air or that they were ‘Joseph’s silos’ (Brendon 1991: 9). An appreciation of antiquities and monuments of the past can also be seen in the Greek ruler of Pergamon, Attalus I (269-197 BCE), who sent emissaries throughout Greece and, in 210 BCE, at Aegina undertook the first known excavations in history. He admired the great Hellenistic monuments and commissioned copies of them (Choay 2001: 18). Finally, it is interesting to note that Greeks continued the tradition we have already referred to in Mesopotamia of storing and displaying exceptional pieces in temples, including objects from antiquity (Casson 1974: 240–243). During the Roman period a huge road network was built linking the North Sea to the Sahara Desert and the Atlantic to Mesopotamia (Löschburg 1979: 13). Many members of the élite displayed a type of behavior that was a clear precedent for tourism: during summer they moved out of Rome in search of leisure and activities different to those of their day-to-day city life (Casson 1974: 138–148). The search for the unusual and the special was also behind other journeys. Thus, Livy (59 BCE -CE17) recounts a trip to Greece undertaken in 167 BCE by Aemilius Paulus, who “decided upon a tour of Greece, to see those things which, through their fame and reputation, had been magnified by hearsay into more than what the eye beholds” (in Casson 1974: 229). Interested in the past, he visited Delphi, Athens, Corinth, Sparta and Olympia, among other sites. He was not an exception, as Roman Greece had become a popular destination for the educated. There were the equivalent of tourist guides and in Athens reproductions were sold, including statues of the goddess Athene and silver models of the temple of Artemis in Ephesus (Löschburg 1979: 14). In Roman Egypt people went sightseeing to ancient monuments. One example was the Emperor Hadrian who, in a visit to the province, decided to join a trip to the Colossi of Memnon. The intention of this trip was not only to experience antiquity, but also the acoustic effect produced at sunrise in the northern figure of the pair of statues. As the poetess Julia Balbilla later explained, at that moment a bell-like sound was heard (Casson 1974: 275–6). Pausanias also wrote about this in his Description of Greece What surprised me far more than anything else was the Colossus of the Egyptians. At Thebes in Egypt… you come to a seated statute that gives out a sound. Most people call it Memnon… The Thebans, however, say that the image represents, not Memnon, but a native with the name of Phamenoth [probably a garbling of Amenhotep]. I have also heard some claims that it represents Sesostris [a quasi-mythological Pharaoh]… Every day at sunrise it cries out, and the sound can be best compared to the snapping of the string of a lute or lyre (in Casson 1974: 273).

Pausanias’ book, whose title some translate as Guidebook to Greece, is evidence of how similar the experience of leisure travel was to that of the Grand Tour described later in this chapter. Pausanias’ book was written between 160 and 180 CE (Brendon

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1991: 9; Casson 1974: Chap. 18) and is the first known travel guidebook to survive, although we know there were earlier examples going back to the fourth century BCE (Casson 1974: 294). A hierarchy of places to visit was even established at this time. A list of the seven wonders of the world was drawn up and included five, by then, ancient monuments: the Pyramids, the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, Phidias’ statue of Zeus at Olympia, the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Mausoleum, and two modern monuments: the Colossus of Rhodes and the Lighthouse at Alexandria (Casson 1974: 232). In addition to the travel guidebooks, the description of a traveler given by Pliny the Younger in the second century CE rings very true to us today: We travel long roads and cross the water to see what we disregard when it is under our eyes. This is either because nature has so arranged things that we go after what is far off and remain indifferent to what is nearby, or because any desire loses its intensity by being easily satisfied, or because we postpone whatever we can see whenever we want, feeling sure we will often get around to it. Whatever the reason, there are numbers of things in this city of ours and its environs which we have not even heard of, much less seen; yet, if they were in Greece or Egypt or Asia … we would have heard all about them, read all about them, looked over all there was to see (in Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012:29).

The main destinations of Roman tourists were Rome, parts of Sicily, Greece, Delos, Samothrace, Rodhes, Asia Minor, particularly Troy, and Egypt (Casson 1974: 261). Beyond Europe, the sources are less abundant regarding people traveling to different places for purposes other than trade, with the exception of ancient China. There, Confucius (551-479 BCE) traveled widely in his search for a fair ruler to work for and he believed in travel as an exercise in experiential learning and enjoyment (Shepherd and Yu 2013: 6). Several centuries later, the Chinese scholar Xuanzang (602-664) would begin a seventeen-year journey to India to study in the cradle of Buddhism and resolve the contradictions and discrepancies of some religious texts (Löschburg 1979: 29–30). Xuanzang lived during the first years of the Tang Dynasty (618-907 CE), when travel was becoming more common, expanding under the Song rule (960-1279 CE). In the latter period, well-to-do Chinese literati visited jingshen (scenic spots), fengjing qu (wind and scenes) and mingshen qu (famous sites), some of the latter dating back to the Qin Dynasty (221-206 BCE) (Nyíri 2007: 7). During the Ming and Qing eras (1368-1911 CE), the number of travelers increasingly included the gentry, who made use of the route books then produced, such as the Comprehensive Gazetteer of the Ming Dynasty of 1461 and the more functional Comprehensive Route Book by Huang Bian of 1570 (Brook 1998: 179–181). As occurred later with the first travel guides in the Western world (Cook, Baedeker and the like, see Chap. 3), the Tang and Song travel books created a way of seeing in the later eras. The writings produced by the pioneers were used by visitors in their attempt to understand the places in the way and form that these early texts had suggested, including the right season of the year or time of day to visit (Nyíri 2007: 7–9; Gao 2016: 423). Movement, or travel, became a key theme in the Chinese literary and philosophical tradition, with a multiplicity of travel accounts or yu-chi (Strassberg 1994).

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The Power of the Past in Medieval and Early Modern Europe At the time of the Song and early Ming dynasties, medieval Europeans had begun to travel again. To begin with they were principally motivated by religious zeal and a series of pilgrimage routes to Jerusalem, Rome, Santiago and other more minor places was established. These pilgrimages could take several months and, along their routes, were monasteries that served as guesthouses (Ohler 1989: 184). Emperor Constantine had set a precedent for this movement when he visited the Holy Land in 326 CE (Casson 1974: Chap. 19). However, in addition to religious motivations, other purposes took people on these pilgrimages, as we see from the concern shown by the Church about the lack of piety shown by some of the travelers (Ohler 1989: 143–144). The interest in the past that had emerged during the Roman period practically vanished in the medieval period, although there were exceptions. The first notable one was Charlemagne’s attention to the classical past (Schnapp 1996: 89–97). The creation of the Holy Roman Empire under his rule (768-814) stirred up long-lasting hostility between the religious and the earthly powers. Challenging the established order needed a new vocabulary to express differences and that chosen by the emperor was classicism. Schools for training youth were established, Latin translations of Greek works were sponsored, ancient texts were emended and new works were written about them (Contreni 1984). The practice of linking a particular contemporary city or group to a Trojan personage, which had been so common in the classical era, was revived at this time (Contreni 1984: 61). Mythological genealogy thus re-emerged to link contemporary towns and states with classical Greek heroes and this became norm for the rest of the medieval period. The physicality of the past was incorporated into the present, as shown by the iconography of the sarcophagus in which Charlemagne was laid to rest, on which the rape of Persephone (conveniently re-interpreted as a symbol of Christ’s resurrection) was represented (Schnapp 1996: 89–97: 93). This so-called renaissance was followed by decline and a new revival in the twelfth century (Ferruolo 1984), a period in which Europe saw an increase in the importance of towns, a boom in the mercantile and monetary economy, the crystallization of the courtesan and cavalry nobility and the strengthening of monarchy. The past was accepted as an argument of power by both the monarchy and the scholars who had been educated in the schools. The direct link between the Trojans and the English that had first been established in the ninth century was then embraced by a Welsh cleric, Geoffrey of Monmouth (?1100-1154), in his Historia Regum Britanniae (History of the Kings of Britain), the main source of the Arthurian legends. His emphasis on the most ancient past, as opposed to the Anglo-Saxon period, was a means of legitimating his Norman masters. Ancient material culture was also used as an argument. The importance of an abbey could be legitimized through the existence of glorious ancient remains in its grounds. After the 1184 destruction of Glastonbury Abbey, the monks were able to find in the ruins not only the tomb of Arthur, interred together with his second wife, Guinevere (in 1191), but also that of

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St Joseph of Arimathea, who, the monks explained, had come to Glastonbury in 63 CE and had been buried in the abbey. In that way the importance of the abbey was legitimized (Kendrick 1950: 15–17). When remains were not ‘found’ in other places, disputes could last for centuries. For example, at the end of the twelfth century, a reorganization of the ecclesiastic jurisdiction of Spain on the basis of the post-Roman ecclesiastical structure in use before the Muslim conquest of Hispania, led bishops to claim that the ancient episcopal sees were in their territories. However, the lack of knowledge about the exact location of towns such as Segobriga led to disputes that were not resolved until the sixteenth century (Mora 1998: 92–93). During the thirteenth century, knowledge of the Greek classics continued to increase through translations from Arabic and the work of Byzantine scholars (Sevcenko 1984). The second half of the century saw a reemergence of interest in ancient Rome (Schnapp 1996: 105). In parallel to this, travel continued and it was at this time that a series of famous expeditions was undertaken. These even reached exotic lands, as we see from the journey of the Flemish missionary William of Rubruck (c.1220-c.1293) to the Mongol empire (Ohler 1989:129) and that of the Venetian merchant and explorer Marco Polo (1254-1324) to China. Polo’s expedition to China took him 24 years and he wrote a three-volume book about it giving information about the areas visited, its customs and geography and included data about trading posts and the potential for trade in each place (Ohler 1989: 209). In the fourteenth century Islamic world, Ibn Battuta became a similar figure to Marco Polo, as he extended his pilgrimage to Mecca as far as Mesopotamia and India (Ohler 1989: 215–217). This interest in travel and antiquities during the late medieval period set the stage for making visits to antiquities one of the key components of the travelers’ must-do list. French architectural and urban historian Françoise Choay links the birth of the historic monument in Rome in around 1420 to the Great Schism, a split within the Roman Catholic Church that began in 1378 and ended with Pope Martin V’s election in 1417. As the ruler of Rome, the new Pope fostered a renewed historical narrative that included the search for antiquities (Choay 2001: 17). Within a few decades, visits to Rome by foreign humanists show that this new fascination for antiquities had spread northwards. The writings about what they saw and the drawings and prints produced by travelers reveal the condition of the buildings and works of art at the time (Zanker 2009: 238) (Fig. 2.1). From the sixteenth century archaeological images of Rome were reproduced in prints, cameos, casts and images on furniture. There was even a first guidebook for visitors produced in Italian, Pietro Martire Felini’s 1610 Trattato Nuovo delle Cose Maravigliose Dell’Alma Città Di Roma (New Treatise of the Marvelous Things of the City of Rome) (Benson 2004: 23–24) Interest in monuments (Jokilehto 1986: vol. 1) and their conservation was only considered when a new use was found for the building (Zanker 2009: 261). Their importance lay in them serving as testimonies to the veracity of the classical texts (Choay 2001: 29). Nevertheless, the importance of Roman ruins can be seen in one of the earliest guidebooks published. This was Charles Estienne’s 1551 La Guide des chemins de France (Guidebook of the Ways of France, 2nd edition in 1552), in

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Fig. 2.1  Jan Gossaert (alias Mabuse). Colosseum c. 1509. © bpk-Bildagentur, Staatliche Museen zu Berlin

which travelers were advised to visit the ancient Roman amphitheater at Arles in south France  where, it was said, Hercules’ columns came from (Estienne 1552: 165). Estienne also pointed out the existence of other Roman remains at Romorentin, Selon de Crau (today’s Salon-de-Provence), Nymes and Tourmaigne (Estienne 1552). A handful of travelers also ventured into Egypt to visit the antiquities in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. One of them was George Sandys (1578-1644) who, in his Relation of a Journey, begun… 1610 (1615), described the Pyramids as “the barbarous monuments of prodigality and vainglory” and, dismissing the hypothesis that they had been built as granaries by Joseph, identified them as “sepulchers of the Egyptians” (Sandys 1621: 128) (Fig. 2.2). He also explained about the Colossus and Memphis. A decade later, the scholars Tito Livio Burattini (1617-81) and John Greaves (1602-52) also traveled to Egypt. The latter noted his observations in Pyramidographia (1646) (Curl 2005: 137). Most travelers, however, only became acquainted with Egyptian antiquities by visiting the museum of Egyptian and Egyptianizing antiquities in Rome, which had been established by the Jesuit and antiquarian Athanasius Kircher (1602-80) (Curl 2005: 135) (see also Curran 2003; Findlen 1994; Iversen 1993 (1961)). In the sixteenth century, the geography known to Europeans expanded dramatically thanks to journeys to Africa, America and Asia. One of the aims of these expeditions was to create a reliable cartography (Penrose 2001). Prince Henry of

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Fig. 2.2  George Sandys (1621). The pyramids (Sandys 1621: figure in page 128)

Portugal (1394-1460) wrote a Chronicle of Guinea (c. 1457-1465) and with new naval technology his men were able to sail down the African coast as far as the Cape Verde Peninsula in Senegal. On his trips there he had been preceded by one Afonso Cerveira (Russell 2001: 10). In the mid-1460s, the Italian Luigi da Mosto also wrote Navegazioni, an autobiographical travel book on the same area (Russell 2001: 11). The Portuguese would continue their naval expeditions later in the fifteenth century, reaching India in 1498 (Penrose 2001: 68–81). To the west of Europe, the conquest of America from 1492 opened the gates of this continent to Europeans, initially the southern part of North America and Central and South America (Penrose 2001: Chap. 5-7) and then the remaining part of the northern continent (Penrose 2001: Chap. 9). The English, Danes and Dutch arrived in the Orient in the second half of the sixteenth century and during the seventeenth century (Penrose 2001: Chap. 13). It was in the latter century that a series of travelers from several Western European countries journeyed around the world for the sake of curiosity, nourishing the collections of exotica formed in Europe at this time and mentioned below (Penrose 2001: Chap. 14). The early colonization of North America began in the sixteenth century (Penrose 2001: Chap. 15). The importance of antiquities encouraged some travelers to include stopovers at ancient ruins, as was the case of the British naval officer and politician John Cartwright, who, in the early sixteenth century visited Susa, Nineveh, Babylon and

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Persepolis (Penrose 2001: 278). The publication of travel accounts served to propagate the knowledge of customs, monuments and routes acquired by the travelers. Examples of these were Maximilian Misson’s (c.1650-1722) Nouveau voyage d’ltalie (1699, translated into English in 1739), a book that for half a century was the standard travel guidebook to Italy for those undertaking the Grand Tour. In Rome he described the Pantheon and Queen Christina’s collection at the Riario Palace, about which he commented “it would be an endless labor to describe all the curious medals [i.e. coins and medallions], false or true, that we saw in this Palace” (Misson 1699 (1739): 37). He also described the cameo in the collection and went on to explain which monuments to visit in Rome, including the pyramid of Caius Cestius and the baths of Agrippa (Misson 1699 (1739)). Interestingly, Maximilian Misson’s traveling zeal also included European countries. His Mémoires et observations faites par un voyageur en Angleterre (1698) were about England, a country to which he had moved permanently in 1685. In this he had been preceded by William Camden’s Britannia (Candem 1586). Candem included information on eighty Roman inscriptions and gave a first-hand description of Hadrian’s Wall and Iron Age coinage, in addition to describing information about prehistoric megalithic circles and Saxon churches (Fagan 2006: 21–24; Todd 2004: 444–445). Of interest in Misson’s work was a recommendation to visit some of the different cabinets of curiosities in London, as well as a mention of Stonehenge in the section dedicated to Salisbury (Misson 1698). This interest in European antiquities outside of Italy can also be seen in the works of some Muslim writers (Matar 2003), as well as in those of other Europeans. For example, in his Voyage d’Italie, de Dalmatie, de Grèce, et du Levant: fait aux années 1675 & 1676 (Journey to Italy, Dalmatia, Greece and the Levant in 1675 and 1676) (Spon and Wheler 1678), the French physician and scholar Jacob Spon (1647-1685) wrote about a trip that included a visit to Anatolia in search of Greco-Roman inscriptions and monuments. Spon had already been interested in the antiquities of his native Lyon as, two years before this trip, he had published his research into the antiquities and curiosities of the area (Spon 1673). This appreciation of the antiquities of his own region led him to comment that “Our own France can supply us with beautiful fragments, just as well as Greece and Italy. We sometimes neglect what we have while chasing after foreign curiosities that are no more valuable”. He also pointed out that not only should the inscriptions of “pagan antiquity” be recorded, but also “those of the history of France” (in Choay 2001: 40). In the seventeenth century the popular satirist John Earle defined antiquarians as “a man strangely thrifty of time past… He will go you forty miles to see a saint’s well or a ruined abbey” (in Macaulay 1953: 18). The antiquarian tradition, and antiquarian’s travels, continued throughout the eighteenth century (Macaulay 1953: 335–367) Spon’s seventeenth-century observations about the wealth of antiquities in countries other than Italy, and indeed the development of antiquarianism during this period (Macaulay 1953: Chap. 2; Mora 1998; Todd 2004), did not percolate into the travel books which, as we see in Misson’s case, focused most of their attention on which cabinets of antiquities to visit. From the fifteenth century in Italy and from the sixteenth century elsewhere in Europe, the cabinets of curiosities, as the earlier

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miscellaneous museums were called from the medieval period, were moved from their original locations in churches and royal palaces to be established in the houses of those with the means and a liking for collections. Many were aristocrats, but there were also scholars, merchants, lawyers and doctors from all over Europe. In the Italian cabinets, antiquities were generally the key feature, but elsewhere ancient objects were intermingled with gems, relics, stuffed animals, fossils and exotica. Opening collections to the public boosted their owners’ prestige and helped them climb the social ladder (Daston 1988: 460). Emulation explains the appearance of some of these cabinets, as the earliest of them inspired others. This was the case of that formed by the Danish scholar, Ole Worm (1588-1654), who had been inspired by the cabinet in Kassel Castle in Germany (Randsborg 1994: 136). Some of these cabinets were described in travel books. One of them was the sixteenth-century cabinet belonging to Ferdinand II of Tirol on display in his Ambras Castle in Innsbruck (Austria), described by Michel de Montaigne in 1581 (Daston 1988: 455; Hooper-Greenhill 1992: 112–116; Montaigne 1580-81 (1955): 54). Reports on other cabinets can be found in the already mentioned A New Voyage to Italy by Misson (1699 (1739)). Thanks to a thorough analysis carried out in the 1980s two of these cabinets are well-known today, these of Rudolf II’s Kunstkammer in Prague Castle (Fucikova 1985) and the Ashmolean Museum, which began in the 1630s as the Tradescant Museum (Daston 1988; Impey and MacGregor 2000).

The Grand Tour A man who has not been in Italy is always conscious of an inferiority, from his not having seen what it is expected a man should see. The grand object of traveling is to see the shores of the Mediterranean. On those shores were the four great empires of the world: the Assyrian, the Persian, the Grecian, and the Roman. All our religion, almost all our law, almost all our arts, almost all that sets us above savages, has come to us from the shores of the Mediterranean (in James 1791 (2006))

These words, pronounced in 1776 by the English writer and traveler Samuel Johnson, illustrate the extent to which traveling to the Mediterranean had become a key part of a correct upbringing for the British elite. This journey to Italy, which became even more deeply-rooted the sixteenth century, came to be known as the Grand Tour (Chaney 1998; Towner 1985). The term itself had first been used in Richard Lassels’ The Voyage of Italy or A Compleat Journey through Italy, published in London in 1670, a book that was popular enough for new editions to be published in 1686 and 1698 (Black 2003: 2; Chaney and Wilks 2014). The Grand Tour was mainly undertaken by members of the British upper classes and later also by their Euro-American peers, mainly those from France, Germany and North America. For the British, the itinerary involved France, particularly Paris, followed by Italy via Germany and Switzerland. The goal was to arrive in the classical lands as soon and as unscathed as possible, without considering any visit to the ancient remains of other countries, which were deemed to be less valuable. For the great

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majority of grand tourists, Italy was their only destination, as the lands of the other great civilizations mentioned in the quote above were still considered unsafe and only a few ventured into them. Once in Italy, most focused on Veneto, Tuscany and Rome, with only the more intrepid continuing southwards to Naples and Sicily (Black 2011; Dyson 2006: Chap. 1; Towner 1985). Few ventured beyond Italy, although some travelers made it to Greece (Choay 2001: 54–55; Lévin 2006: 553–559; Stoneman 1987), Egypt (Curl 2005: 144–146) and the Near East (Simpson 2004: 194–195; Stiebing 1993: 85). The purpose of the Grand Tour was primarily educational; to refine the taste of well-to-do youngsters in the various forms of art, such as music, painting, sculpture and architecture. Importantly for the future development of archaeological tourism, its goal also was for them to learn in situ about the classical civilizations and the ruins and works of art they had left and that served as witnesses to a glorious past and indeed to the foundations of modern civilization. Italian antiquities were well publicized, especially those unearthed by the excavations that multiplied during those years on the peninsula. Rome became the focus of attention. Its surviving visible ruins were increasingly complemented by new finds made in a growing number of archaeological investigations commissioned by the Pope that were then visited by the grand tourists (Raspi Serra and de Polignac 1998; Springer 1987). Feeling the whole history of Rome became an object of interest. Viscount Palmerston writing about Rome in 1764 stated that I never had any idea till I came here what a good statue was or what effect it was capable of producing… I am concerned to find that there are scarce any remains of buildings so old as the time of the Republic; if there were any such, however plain and unornamented, they would be much more interesting than the most magnificent works of slaves and tyrants (in Black 2003: 50).

During the eighteenth century, Roman sites such as Herculaneum (from 1711), the Palatine in Rome (1729), Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli (1734), Pompeii (1748) (Fig. 2.3) and Stabia (1749) were excavated and books were published about them (Macaulay 1953: passim). It became fashionable to compare the descriptions of landscapes and places by ancient authors such as Pliny, Virgil, Horace and Strabo with observations on the surviving ruins and scenery visitors were able to contemplate (Black 2011 156–157). Antiquities were seen as symbols of the past, but they also received complementary readings. In 1788, Diderot exclaimed: I believe that the ruins have a greater effect than the monuments preserved in their entirety. The ruins that are far from the city have something threatening, and the hand of time has spread in the moss covering them a lot of elevated ideas and melancholy and sweet feelings at the same time. … ruins make me shiver; my heart is moved, my imagination moves with more ease than usual (in Zanker 2009: 266).

Ruins, therefore, and especially those covered by vegetation, were perceived as emotional signs of deterioration, as a return to nature. Full moon nights were particularly liked (Zanker 2009). The contemplation of the Roman ruins was supplemented by that of other civilizations. To the north of Rome, Etruscan remains were increasingly considered. These had been presented to the world in 1723 through the writings of the Scotsman,

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Fig. 2.3  The Herculaneum Gate in Pompeii by Jacob Phillip Hackert (painted in 1794)

Sir Thomas Dempster, and the efforts of the members of the Academia Etrusca founded in 1726. The excavation of Volterra began in 1728 and it was the inception of Etruscomania (Momigliano 1950; Stiebing 1993: 153–8; Wellard 1973). From the second half of the eighteenth century, visitors were able to contemplate ruins with the many guidebooks that began to be published in that period. One of them was the Guide d’Italie pour faire agréablement le voyage de Rome, Naples, et autres lieux (Guidebook to Italy to Make the Journey Pleasantly to Rome, Naples, and Other Places). The book started with these words: We find in this work the names of cities, towns and villages, rivers, torrents, and the costs of borders; the places where one has to dine, sleep, and the distances from one place to another, day by day; the stops that must be done with the carriages, the chamberlains or domestics that can be taken; the curiosities which can be seen there, and their costs, the value of French money; the different coins of the countries where we pass and several other features for the voyageurs, most of which were exactly observed on the spot (Berton 1775).

In this travel guidebook one could learn about where to board when visiting the classical sites of Pompeii and Herculaneum, and how much it cost. After an explanation of what could be seen at Herculaneum, the author continued: “then we entered the rooms called the Museum, which contain all the antiquities found in the city of Herculaneum, where some of the most curious things can be seen” (Berton 1775: 160) and the contents of the eight exhibition rooms were described. Although not mentioned in Berton’s book, by that time other museums containing non-Roman antiquities had been opened in Italy. One example was Monsignore Guarnacci’s

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museum in Volterra in 1761 with finds from Etruscan sites (Wellard 1973: 40–45). At Pompeii conservation work was being undertaken with the rebuilding of roofs, doors and windows, particularly focusing on areas with wall paintings to ensure their conservation in situ. Some finds of furniture were also placed on display to amplify the effect of authenticity, and stairs with handrails were added to ensure safety (Berry 2007). The Grand Tour led to a flourishing market in antiquities centered on Rome (Mora 1998: 51). On the must-do list for travelers, priority was given to taking back souvenirs from their trip in the form of ancient objects, as well as art inspired by the ancient world. This encouraged a continuous export of antiquities that could not be prevented by successive but inefficient decrees aimed at putting a halt to this practice during the seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries (Arata 1998: 48). However, together with actual antiquities, the young grand tourers also took home many forgeries from an increasingly booming business set up to supply non-experts with items embodying their experience abroad and their physical contact with the past, both pictures and antiquities (Black 2011: 157; de Lucchi et al. 2012; Luzón Nogué 2003). Of less practical use for the Grand Tour because of their size, but equally important in all the domestic libraries of the élite, were the Picturesque Travels. These books presented detailed geographical, historical, political, economic, and cultural information on the destinations included in the Grand Tour, including prints and information on artistic and archaeological monuments. They also opened up new destinations by paying attention to less accessible geographical regions, such as Spain and Greece. For example, the Voyage pittoresque de la Grèce by Marie Gabriel Florent Auguste de Choiseul-Gouffier (1752-1817), published in 1782, gave details of the author’s first voyage to Greece six years earlier. Following his itinerary, the volume described both ancient and modern Greece and some of the Greek islands. Explanations were provided on the temples of Hera at Olympia, the ruins of the ancient Greek city of Telmessos and the tomb of Amyntas, the ruins of the temple of Artemis in Ephesus, the temple of Dionysus at Teos and many other ancient sites. Interestingly, Choiseul-Gouffier explained that reading the ancient writers, such as Homer and Herodotus, had played an important role in forming his idea about Greece, and thus his expectations (and, as Urry (1990) would put it, his traveler’s gaze). His journey to Greece involved strong emotions that went from enthusiasm and excitement when seeing and sensing the past to painful disappointment on experiencing the helpless decadence of modern Greece, and the intentional destruction of the ancient remains. Interestingly, he stated that such a country should be seen with the ‘eyes of maturity’. Opposing customary practice among the well-­ off classes, he expressed regret about having undertaken this voyage at the early age of twenty-four, as he realized that his younger self had been unprepared for it. In his opinion, a young person did not possess the necessary knowledge, ‘force of reflection’ and understanding for such a trip. Nevertheless, he also acknowledged that old people may have lost the ability to feel the ‘vivacity of sensations’ that makes traveling wonderful. Thus, he concluded that such journeys should be made at maturity (Choiseul-Gouffier 1782: ii–iv). Two more examples of the Picturesque Travels

References

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genre will suffice. The first is the Voyage pittoresque ou Description des Royaumes de Naples et de Sicile by the French painter and engraver Jean-Claude Richard de Saint Non (1727–1791). Published in five volumes in 1781, it contained descriptions of Herculaneum and Pompeii, Sybaris, Metapontum and the Valle dei Templi in Agrigento. The date of the second shows the hierarchy given to the potential lands to visit, with those of less interest being later in time. Thus, the Voyage pittoresque et historique de l’Espagne was not published until 1806.

Conclusion This chapter has condensed the history of the intersection between travel and an interest in ancient monuments and antiquities from the earliest times to the emergence of tourism. The large number of sources quoted in the previous pages demonstrates one of the difficulties of writing such an account, especially for periods in which we know much of one of these two aspects, but little of the other. The bibliography becomes more abundant as we approach the period in which tourism emerged as a leisure activity and in relation to the Grand Tour it is truly immense. Luckily, an increasing amount of the original literature is now on the internet and it is possible to read many of the volumes produced in the seventeenth century and especially the eighteenth century in relation to travel. The number of people traveling was, however, limited, especially when compared to what would come later. In contrast, from the nineteenth century the development of tourism opened up the possibility of traveling and obtaining first-hand knowledge of the past to a wider sector of the population. Tourism developed on the basis of the infrastructure that had already begun to be put into place in the eighteenth century during the Grand Tour. In contrast to the eighteenth century, however, nineteenth-century tourism would increase considerably the economic and social impact of traveling and, at the same time, created new ways of approaching the past.

References Arata, F. P. (1998). La naissance du musée du Capitole. In J. Raspi Serra & F. de Polignac (Eds.), La Fascination de l’Antique 1700–1770. Rome découverte. Rome inventéee (pp. 48–51). Lyon: Somogy Editions d’Art. Baugh, T. G., & Ericson, J. E. (1994). Prehistoric exchange systems in North America. New York: Plenum Press. Benson, S. (2004). Reproduction, fragmentation, and collection: Rome and the origin of souvenirs. In D. M. Lasansky & B. McLaren (Eds.), Architecture and tourism: Perception, performance and place (pp. 15–26). Oxford: Berg. Berry, J. (2007). The complete Pompeii. London: Thames & Hudson. Berton, C. P. (1775). Guide d’Italie pour faire agréablement le voyage de Rome, Naples, et autres lieux. Paris. Black, J. (2003). Italy and the Grand Tour. New Haven/London: Yale University Press.

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Black, J. (2011). The British and the Grand Tour. London: Routledge. Brendon, P. (1991). Thomas Cook: 150 years of popular tourism. London: Secker and Warburg. Brook, T. (1998). The confusions of pleasure: Commerce and culture in Ming China. Berkeley: University of California Press. Candem. (1586 (1722)). Britannia or a Geographical Description of Great Britain and Ireland together with the adjacent lands. London: Printed by Mary Matthews for Awnsham Churchill. Carr, C. (2005). Rethinking interregional Hopewellian “Interaction”. In C.  Carr & D.  T. Case (Eds.), Gathering Hopewell: Society, ritual, and ritual interaction (pp. 575–623). New York: Springer. Casson, L. (1974). Travel in the ancient world. London: Book Club Associates. Casson, L. (1991). The ancient mariners: Seafarers and sea fighters of the Mediterranean in ancient times. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Chaney, E. (1998). The evolution of the Grand Tour: Anglo-Italian cultural relations since the Renaissance. London: Routledge. Chaney, E., & Wilks, T. (2014). The Jacobean Grand Tour: Early Stuart travellers in Europe. London/New York: I.B. Tauris. Choay, F. (2001). The invention of the historic monument. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Choiseul-Gouffier, M. G. F. A. de. (1782). Voyage pittoresque de la Grèce. Paris: A. Paris. Contreni, J. J. (1984). The Carolingian renaissance. In W. Treadgold (Ed.), Renaissances before the renaissance: Cultural revivals of late antiquity and the middle ages (pp. 59–75). Stanford: Sanford University Press. Curl, J. S. (2005). The Egyptian revival: Ancient Egypt as the inspiration for design motifs in the West. London: Routledge. Curran, B.  A. (2003). The renaissance afterlife of ancient Egypt (1400–1650). In P.  Ucko & T. Champion (Eds.), The wisdom of Egypt: Changing visions through the ages (pp. 101–132). London: University College London. Daston, L. J. (1988). The factual sensibility. Isis, 79(3), 452–467. de Lucchi, M., Lowe, A., & Pavanello, G. (2012). The arts of Piranesi: Architect, etcher, antiquarian, vedutista, designer. Madrid: Fondazione Giorgio Cini, Factum Arte. Dyson, S. L. (2006). Pursuit of ancient pasts: A history of classical archaeology in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. New Haven: Yale University Press. Estienne, C. (1552). La Guide des chemins de France. Paris. Fagan, B. (2006). From Stonehenge to Samarkand: An anthology of archaeological travel writing. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Ferruolo, S.  C. (1984). The twelfth-century Renaissance. In W.  Treadgold (Ed.), Renaissances before the renaissance: Cultural revivals of Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (pp. 114–143). Stanford: Sanford University Press. Findlen, P. (1994). Possessing nature: Museums, collecting and scientific culture in Early Modern Italy. Berkeley: University of California Press. Fucikova, E. (1985). The collection of Rudolf II at Prague: Cabinet of curiosities or scientific museum? In O. Impey & A. MacGregor (Eds.), The origins of museums: The cabinet of curiosities in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Europe (pp. 47–55). Oxford: Clarendon Press. Gao, Q. (2016). Challenges in archaeological tourism in China. International Journal of Historical Archaeology, 20(2), 422–436. Goeldner, C. R., & Brent Ritchie, J. R. (2012). Tourism: Principles, practices, philosophies. New Jersey: Wiley. Hooper-Greenhill, E. (1992). Museums and the shaping of knowledge. London: Routledge. Impey, O., & MacGregor, A. (Eds.). (2000). The origins of museums: The cabinet of curiosities in sixteenth and seventeenth-century Europe. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Iversen, E. (1993 (1961)). The myth of Egypt and its hieroglyphics in European tradition. Princeton: Princeton University Press. James, B. (1791 (2006)). Life of Johnson. New York: Project Gutenberg. EBook. Online.

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Jokilehto, J. (1986). A history of architectural conservation. York: PhD thesis, University of York. Online. Jones, A. (Ed.) (2008). Prehistoric Europe: Theory and practice. (Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell). Kendrick, T. D. (1950). British antiquity. London: Methuen. Lévin, S. (2006). Gravir l’Olympe entre la fin du XVIIème et le début du XXème siècles: du philhellénisme poétique au philhellénisme politique. European Review of History (special issue – Hellenic Histories: the Cultural, ideological and Political issues of the archaeology of Ancient Greece), 13(4), 549–568. Löschburg, W. (1979). History of travel. Leipzig/London: Prior. Luzón Nogué, J. M. (2003). Sobre la copia de antigüedades romanas y el caso de Westmorland. In J.  M. Iglesias Gil (Ed.), Cursos sobre Patrimonio Histórico 7. Actas de los XIII cursos monográficos sobre el patrimonio histórico (Reinosa, julio-agosto 2002) (pp. 17–30). Reinosa: Ayuntamiento de Reinosa, Universidad de Cantabria. Macaulay, R. (1953). Pleasure of ruins. London: Weindenfeld and Nicolson. Matar, N. I. (2003). In the lands of the Christians: Arabic travel writing in the seventeenth century. New York: Routledge. Misson, M. (1698). Memoires et observations faites par un voyageur en Angleterre. The Hague: Henri van Bulderen. Misson, M. (1699 (1739)). A new voyage to Italy: With curious observations on several other countries, as, Germany, Switzerland, Savoy, Flanders, and Holland. London: Printed for J. and J. Bonwick, C. Rivington, S. Birt, T. Osborne, E. Comyns, E. Wicksteed, C. Ward, and R. Chandler, and J. and R. Tonson. Momigliano, A. (1950). Ancient history and the antiquarian. Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 13(3–4), 285–315. Montaigne, M. de. (1580–81 (1955)). Journal de voyage en Italie par la Suisse et l’Allemagne en 1580 et 1581 [edited by Maurice Rat]. Paris: Editions Garnier Frères. Mora, G. (1998). Historias de mármol: La arqueología clásica española en el siglo XVIII. Madrid: Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas, Polifemo. Nyíri, P. (2007). Scenic spots: Chinese tourism, the state, and cultural authority. Seattle: University of Washington Press. Ohler, N. (1989). The medieval traveller. Woodbridge: Boydell. Penrose, B. (2001). Travel and discovery in the Renaissance. London: Folio Society. Randsborg, K. (1994). Ole Worm: An essay on the modernization of antiquity. Acta Archaeologica, 65, 135–169. Raspi Serra, J., & de Polignac, F. (Eds.) (1998). La Fascination de l’Antique 1700–1770: Rome découverte, Rome inventéee. Lyon: Musée de la Civilisation Gallo-Romaine, Somogy Editions d’Art. Russell, P. E. (2001). Prince Henry ‘the Navigator’: A life. New Haven: Yale University Press. Sandys, G. (1621). A relation of a journey begun an: Dom: 1610: Fovre bookes, Containing a description of the Turkish empire, of Ægypt, of the Holy Land, of the remote parts of Italy, and ilands adioyning. London: W. Barrett. Schnapp, A. (1996). The discovery of the past. London: British Museum Press. Sevcenko, I. (1984). The Palaeologan Renaissance. In W. Treadgold (Ed.), Renaissances before the renaissance: Cultural revivals of Late Antiquity and the Middle Ages (pp. 144–171). Stanford: Sanford University Press. Shepherd, R.  J., & Yu, L. (2013). Heritage management, tourism, and governance in China: Managing the past to serve the present. New York: Springer. Simpson, S. J. (2004). From Persepolis to Babylon and Nineveh: The rediscovery of the ancient Near East. In K. Sloan (Ed.), Enlightenment: Discovering the world in the eighteenth century (pp. 192–201). London: British Museum. Spon, J. (1673). Recherche des antiquités et curiosités de la ville de Lyon. Lyon: Iaques Faeton. Spon, J., & Wheler, G. (1678). Voyage d’Italie, de Dalmatie, de Grece, et du Levant: fait aux années 1675 & 1676. Amsterdam: Henry & Theodore Boom.

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Springer, C. (1987). The marble wilderness: Ruins and representation in Italian romanticism 1775–1850. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stiebing, W. H. J. (1993). Uncovering the past: A history of archaeology. Buffalo: Prometheus Books. Stoneman, R. (1987). Land of lost gods: The search for classical Greece. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Strassberg, R.  J. (1994). Inscribed landscapes: Travel writing from imperial China. Berkeley: University of California Press. Todd, M. (2004). The rediscovery of Roman Britain. In M. Todd (Ed.), A companion to Roman Britain (pp. 443–458). Oxford: Oxford University Press. Towner, J. (1985). The Grand Tour: A key phase in the history of tourism. Annals of Tourism Research, 12, 297–333. Urry, J. (1990). The tourist gaze. London: Sage. Wellard, J. (1973). The search for the Etruscans. London: Nelson. Wilkinson, T. J., French, C., Ur, J., & Semple, M. (2010). The geoarchaeology of route systems in Northern Syria. Geoarchaeology, 25, 745–771. Zanker, P. (2009). Le ravine romane e i loro osservatori. In M.  Barbanera (Ed.), Relitti riletti: Metamorfosi delle rovine e identità (pp. 256–277). Torino: Bollati Boringhieri.

Chapter 3

The Early Years of Archaeological Tourism: From 1800 to 1870

Introduction The early decades of the nineteenth century saw the changeover from the Grand Tour to tourism. In this conversion, antiquities retained their position of relevance as they continued to be a major interest for those first tourists traveling for leisure. The shift from the Grand Tour to tourism took place in the context of a series of political, social and technological changes marking the transition from the Ancient Regime to the modern world of nation-states. Ideologically, the most important rupture came with the emergence of nationalism and its quintessential concern for the nation. One of the key elements in the definition of a nation was  – and still is  – its history. History gained in importance because a nation needs a past in order to claim the right to its very existence and, in this framework, elements such as buildings, objects, ruins, etc. from earlier periods act as material witnesses of the nation. The crucial role of history and its icons led to the development of professional studies and the funding of university chairs in fields such as history, history of art, historical architecture and archaeology. The move towards professionalization did not only include universities, but also museums and the management of archaeological heritage; in the last two areas this led to the creation or consolidation of positions for specialists in antiquity, such as museum keepers, curators and inspectors of ancient monuments. Professionals and the general public perceived ancient monuments as patriotic symbols of the national past and explicitly expressed this in paintings, literature, newspaper articles and many other media. Their simultaneous conversion into objects of study, sources of inspiration and key elements in the tourist experience further reinforced their role as transmitters of the idea of the nation. Through tourism their message reached a wide variety of people, including schoolchildren who, as adults, would work to support this idea of the importance of ancient monuments.

© The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 M. Díaz-Andreu, A History of Archaeological Tourism, SpringerBriefs in Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32077-5_3

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Even in the early years tourism went through several transformations. This was reflected in the words used to define it. Whereas the earliest use of the word Grand Tour has been dated to 1670 (see Chap. 2), according to the Oxford English Dictionary (2nd edition), in English the term “tourist” first appeared in 1780 as a synonym for traveller (Buzard 1993: 1). In 1803, the antiquarian Samuel Pegge (1733-1800) stated in his Anecdotes of the English Language that “tourist” was among the new words ending in –ist and argued that “a traveler is now-a-days called a Tour-ist” (Pegge 1803: 259; Buzard 1993: 1). The term was exported to France in 1816, when the first wave of British tourists arrived there after the Napoleonic Wars. In that country it was popularized by Stendhal in his Memoirs of a Tourist (1838). It was not until 1841 that “tourism” emerged as a concept, when Thomas Cook organized his first excursion in the English Midlands (Reid 2002: 66–67). In 1867, ‘tourist’ was defined in a French dictionary as: “Tourist. Travelers who travel to foreign countries due to curiosity and leisure touring places usually visited by their compatriots. English travelers in France, Switzerland and Italy” (in Boyer 2005: 54). In comparison to that of 1803, the 1867 definition showed much more sophistication. It now implied the availability of free time and an interest in novelty, thus reflecting the emergence of tourism as a leisure business between those dates (Boyer 2005: 200).The term traveler did not disappear, but was differentiated from that of tourist in so far as the latter depended on the tourist guidebook, whereas the former was characterized by independence and originality (Baranowski and Furlough 2001: 2). The concept of tourist became linked to two elements: the guidebook and the emergence of the tourist industry. Guidebooks were not a new concept, as we saw in Chap. 2, with precedents dating back to the classical civilizations. However, new to the nineteenth century was their systematic publication by firms such as Baedeker and John Murray, who specialized in issuing an ever-increasing number of guides for a growing variety of destinations (for the case of France see Boyer 2005: 201–204). The second element, the appearance of large companies dedicated to the business of making travel easier, was made possible by the establishment of firms such as Thomas Cook that organized tours for “tourists”. As this chapter will show, archaeological sites, monuments and museums with archaeological objects on display were part of the tourist package organized by tourist companies from the outset. An essential element to explain the transformation of the Grand Tour into tourism was the marked growth of the middle classes. This was connected to the advances in the mechanization of the manufacturing process and the implications this had for mass production. The process towards a higher mechanization had begun in the British Midlands in the mid-eighteenth century and spread to other European countries in the nineteenth century. It was in the latter century that the introduction of steam power fueled by coal replaced earlier, less efficient methods (animals, water or wood-burning) and led to an intensification of productivity and a growth in the accumulation of capital in a few hands. As these hands were not necessarily those of the aristocracy, a novel social structure emerged in which the nobility had to share what had until then been their almost exclusive position as the most opulent members of society. Industrialization was also linked to the growth in services and the consolidation of the bureaucratic methods of the renewed administration

Introduction

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model of state functioning. The more modest financial resources of the middle classes in comparison to those of the Grand Tour aristocracy meant that tourism had to be more affordable. Instead of the two years or so of the Grand Tour, tourist journeys became more varied in terms of their duration and, as a consequence, their destinations. This became a fundamental distinction between them. One aspect of industrialization that significantly affected tourism was the technological revolution in transportation that had accompanied the drive to improve the road system in order to facilitate troop movements during the Napoleonic war effort (Martin Anderson 2012: 264). This began in the eighteenth century and developed fully in most of the Western world in the following century. It meant that traveling between places became easier; costs were reduced, less time was needed to reach certain tourist destinations and travel became more affordable for a much wider section of society. The appearance of steam transport had a huge impact, initially on sea voyages. Occasional steamer services began in the 1810s, although regular passenger steamer services only started with routes such as Dover-Calais (1821), Bristol-­ Dublin (1822), the Rhine (1827), and the Rhône and Danube (1830s) (Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 40; Reid 2002: 67). From 1837, mail-carrying steam ships from the Peninsular and Oriental Company (P&O) began to take passengers from Britain to Malta and Alexandria via Gibraltar and, from 1842, to India on its Suez-Bombay steamer. “Posh” (port outbound, starboard home, i.e., cabins on the shady side of the ship) were added for them. Journey times were considerably shortened. The month-­ long Alexandria-Marseilles voyage in 1825 (Reid 2002: 67) was cut by half. In 1843, a steamer took only fifteen days to sail from Southampton to Alexandria and from 1851, if part of the journey was taken by road to Marseilles and then by the Messageries Maritimes steamer, three or four  days could be saved (Berneron-­ Couvenhes 2007; Reid 2002: 67). Steamships were also used on the journey from London to Rome from the 1840s (Berrino 2011: 17). The revolution in transportation was not only important in sea travel but also, very significantly, in overland transport. This led to further changes in the perception of time and the creation of time for leisure. Horse-drawn wagons on rails had been in use in mines from the medieval period, but steam-powered locomotives meant a complete transformation in their use. This happened after the end of the Napoleonic period and was partially due to a steep rise in the price of corn that made machine power cheaper than animal power (Schivelbusch 1986). In 1825, the Stockton and Darlington Railway was inaugurated a means of transport and would become key to tourism, although not before 1831, when passengers were first accepted. In the 1830s, the railway network expanded in Europe and the US and in the latter Bradshaw’s railway timetable was published in 1841 (Reid 2002: 90). The uniformity of time that transport brought became yet another feature of modernity. This transformation had precedents in the Late Medieval and Early Modern Periods, when time went from being measured on the basis of chores to being quantified by sundials. The first of these had been placed in churches and town markets and they remained in use until the nineteenth century. Around 1800 the importance of time-keeping led to a marked increase in the number of watches and clocks owned by the middle and upper classes, items that became status ­symbols

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(Thompson 1967). To provide a legal definition, mean solar time was adopted in Britain in 1792. This would give way less than a century later to standard time – the same time imposed for a whole state or, at least, a whole region within a state. This took place from 1880 within the framework of the development of the railway system, initially in  Britain and, from 1883, in the United States (Holford-Strevens 2005: 11; Kern 1983: 12). The new way of perceiving time also brought with it a revolution in the way work was understood. As social philosophers Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer would write a century later, “Amusement under late capitalism is the prolongation of work” (in Koshar 2002: 1). Working hours became fixed in the nineteenth century, but they decreased in number from the 12 (or more)-hour day with a progressive reduction, mainly from the 1830s, a trend that continued throughout the century. By the end of the century there was growing support for the idea of the eight-hour day. The adverse consequences of long working days came together with the acknowledgement of the importance of guaranteeing ‘free time’ or ‘leisure’ (Lee et al. 2007: 24), which allowed the less-moneyed classes of society to enjoy free time and include among their activities visits to archaeological sites, monuments and museums.

 lobal Monumentalization: Creating Archaeology’s G Infrastructure For archaeological tourism to be possible, ancient sites and monuments had to be made available to visitors. As we saw in Chap. 2 this had taken place in parts of Italy in the eighteenth century, as the ruins left by the Romans had become one of the main focus of the Grand Tour. At that time, a number of ancient sites were excavated and restoration and preservation work was carried out on many others. To a very limited extent this had also taken place in the case of the classical ruins, as well as a few non-classical monuments, in other European countries. In the nineteenth century these efforts to display and experience the material remains of the past were consolidated and even expanded to include more countries and sites and objects from periods and civilizations other than those from classical antiquity. As explained in the introduction to this chapter, these changes took place within the framework of a series of political changes in the last decades of the eighteenth century, a transformation that resulted in a complete reshaping of modern world politics. Nationalism became the background for a fresh way of seeing antiquity and its material remains. It encouraged the state to fund the setting up of an archaeology infrastructure. This was based on an increasing number of ancient ruins being opened to the public, as well as new restorations of monuments. The new infrastructure included fresh investment in the preservation of old buildings, even if they were still in use, including churches and mosques. Museums exhibiting archaeological collections were also opened. Nationalism was also behind the professionalization of the study of antiquities, a process that was first applied in museums, then in universities, and

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finally in state offices for the management of antiquities (Díaz-Andreu 2007). Museums became popular and entry constraints were gradually lifted. For example, in the British Museum the restrictive ticket requirement was dropped in 1807  in favor of admitting “any person of decent appearance” up to a limit of about 120 a day. As a consequence, from May 1807 to April 1808 the number of visitors increased to 13,000 (Altick 1999: 242). The establishment of museums and the curation of national monuments led to the emergence of a need for proper training in antiquities and accordingly universities opened their doors to specialists able to teach about antiquities (Díaz-Andreu 2007). The increasing number of visitable monuments cared for and studied by a growing number of professionals, together with the innovative production and transport technologies developed in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, was the background to the development of a new interest in the past and a novel relationship between antiquity and leisure. From early on, tourists benefited from state investment in excavations, the restoration of monuments, the opening of museums and the establishment of offices for the management of ancient monuments. One of the earliest examples of this official funding occurred in the city of Rome, although the benefits for tourism would only become a reality after the area had been fully pacified after the Napoleonic Wars. The mecca of the Grand Tour, Rome, had been governed by the Vatican for more than a millennium, but the French invasion of Italy in 1798 led to the displacement of the center of political power to the Roman Forum and from there to Paris (Springer 1987: 68). “Nous aurons tout ce qu'il y a de beau en Italie” (“we will have everything of beauty in Italy” had been Napoleon’s maxim, and in Rome this materialized in an attempt to dismantle all the museums and take their content to Paris during the first French period in the city (1798-99). Fortunately, this endeavor presented too many practical difficulties to be applied in full. After the restoration of the Pope’s power in Rome (1800-08), Pius VII made an effort to protect the antiquities. He enforced a law prohibiting the destruction and export of ancient monuments and objects, defining them as public assets, and ordering that all ancient objects in private hands and all new finds be reported to an Inspector of Antiquities (Springer 1987: 75–78). He also commissioned several excavations, including one in the Forum, and the restoration of several ancient monuments. His aim was not only to encourage an artistic renewal, but also to restore political autonomy and, as Ridley (1992: 17) hints, primarily to restock the museums of Rome that had been partially emptied during the first French invasion. During Rome’s second Napoleonic period from 1808 to 1814, the protection of antiquities was duly promised in Rome. Excavations in the Forum continued and Napoleon financed architects and antiquarian-archaeologists to restore the ancient city (Gran-Aymerich 1998: 40). Several commissions were set up to organize and implement legislation on Roman archaeology, most importantly the 1811 Commission des embellissements de la ville de Rome (Commission for the Improvement of the City of Rome), half of whose budget was allotted to archaeological sites (Ridley 1992: 64). Based on the papal edicts of 1802, 1809, and 1810, more effective legislation was drawn up to prohibit the export of antiquities, regulate excavations and protect monuments. The Coliseum was being repaired in 1806

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and the Arch of Titus and the Via Sacra (Sacred Road) near the Forum in 1812-24. One of the first tasks undertaken under the new legislation was to draw up a list of all public ancient monuments important to ‘science or art’. Its purpose was to describe their present condition, assess whether they needed repair and estimate the cost of such repairs. A detailed plan of excavations and restorations was drawn up and carried out under the supervision of experts. After Pius VII’s return, archaeology retained its position of importance. Thus, Rome began preparing for an ever-­ increasing invasion of tourists who, from that time on, would not only include the aristocratic classes, but also those from the middle echelons of society. Changes were not only taking place in Rome, but also in Paris, and very soon in many other European cities. In the French capital, projects such as the monarchy’s opening to the public of the royal collections were appropriated by the revolutionaries, who placed them at the service of their new ideals. Thus, the royal collection was declared national property and inaugurated as the Louvre Museum in 1792 (Fig. 3.1). The idea that only the most civilized states in the world could be considered as nations came together with a perception of the classical world as the source of civilization. In that context, painting representing Roman archaeological sites and classical objects, as well as statues and other types of material culture, played a primary role in the museum. The Louvre was not the only museum established during

Fig. 3.1  Development project of the Grand Galerie du Louvre painted in 1796 by Hubert Robert. (Source: Wikimedia Commons)

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the French ­revolution; a much more modest one, the Museum of French Monuments, was also founded. This was created in 1793 with a collection of sculptures and fragments of monuments. Its exhibits came from the city of Paris, recovered from the spoils of the destruction of religious buildings that took place during the turmoil of the French Revolution. Consequently, the chronology covered by the museum was Medieval and Early Modern sculpture. This museum received foreign visitors and inspired many others around Europe (Brno, Budapest, Copenhagen, Graz, Prague and Sibiu) (Díaz-Andreu 2007: 322). However, tourism was not on its director’s mind when, in 1794, he had to convince the authorities of the need to reconstruct some of the monuments damaged by the revolutionary mobs. His argument was the progress of France: Please believe me, Citizens, that it is not in order to honor the memory of [the king] François I that I ask permission to rebuild the monument I am about to describe to you. I forget his morals along with his ashes. I am concerned only with the progress of art and education. (Lenoir in Haskell 1993: 241).

This museum was recalled by one of the most important French historians of the mid-nineteenth century, Jules Michelet, who remembered a visit made during his childhood: As children we had become intimately acquainted with all those marble personages: kings, warriors, prelates, writers, poets, artists. We could hardly read, but already we were familiar not only with their features but also with their histories … [Going to the Petits Augustins, i.e., the Museum of French Monuments] was a good preparation for reading Augustin Thierry, Barante and all that cluster of historians who soon afterwards were to throw light on those parts of our national history that were still covered in darkness (in Haskell 1993: 250).

The Museum of French Monuments included a first exhibition room on Celtic art. The promotion of prehistoric remains began at this time and, later in that century, led to their full integration in the account of the national past. Tourist interest in them also began to grow. This was made possible by two elements: on the one hand, an aesthetic romantic interest in the natural and the unknown, which rendered them attractive and worthy of good taste; and on the other, their incorporation into the national narrative was facilitated by their chronological organization, which allowed them to become conceptualized as part of the temporal framework so essential to national histories. However, in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, the preeminence of the medieval period in the national accounts relegated them to second place, as can be seen in museums, as well as in catalogues such as Millin’s volume on National Antiquities (Millin 1790-98). Nationalism and romanticism enhanced the attraction of the Middle Ages and, after the upheaval of the Napoleonic period had been overcome, tourists flocked to visit the monuments and ruins of that period; castles and churches were the most frequently mentioned types of buildings in the first tourist guidebooks, as we will see later in the chapter. The national spirit also led individuals involved in state and private funding to invest in the reconstruction of these sites. The restoration of monuments and the emergent activity of tourism converged in so far as both were ways

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of demonstrating national identity. The reinstatement of monuments created new indications of the national past that were seen as witnesses and symbols of times gone-by. By traveling during their leisure time, citizens acquired personal impressions of the places, landscapes and monuments of antiquity, which were made more meaningful within the framework of nationalism. Wishing to use leisure-time productively and satisfy a desire to learn about the past (Wetherall 1998), the middle classes engaged in visiting archaeological sites, monuments and museums. One of the ways in which they did this was by organizing themselves into societies whose membership was mainly composed of men, thus reflecting the lower status of women within society (Ebbatson 1994). Some of the very early societies were, in Britain, the Societies of Antiquaries in Edinburgh (1780) and Newcastle-Upon-Tyne (1813) and, in Denmark, the Royal Nordic Society of Antiquaries (1825). The number of associations of this type saw a marked increase initially in the 1830s-40s and then in the 1870s. The Société Française d’Archéologie was established in 1834. In 1843, both the British Archaeological Association and the Archaeological Institute were founded in Britain and in the same year the Geschichtsverein für Kärnten (Kärnten Historical Society) in Austria (for more examples see Díaz-Andreu 2007: 474–476). In those parts of the world without visible ancient monuments, societies focused instead on mountaineering and scenery (Kaufmann and Zimmer 1998; Shaffer 2001). The interest in ancient monuments led to the establishment of jobs financed by the state to oversee them. The first country to create a post of this kind was the Vatican in 1802, when Antonio Canova was given the title of Inspector-General of Antiquities and Fine Arts for the Papal State and Carlo Fea became the Antiquities Commissar (Ridley 1992). The post of General Inspector of Monuments, in association with a Commission of Historical Monuments, was set up in France in 1833 (Choay 2001: 96; Schnapp 1996: 53–54). The Inspector and the Commission took over the role that had been played by scholars since the second half of the sixteenth century: to build inventories of archaeological and artistic monuments (Choay 2001: 41). However, this does not mean that private initiative vanished completely, as many individuals engaged in the search for, restoration of and even excavation of ancient monuments, including prehistoric sites such as standing stones and cairns (Boyer 2005: 189). Given the prestige of France at the time, this development was followed in other countries, something of which the French were proud. Thus, the French Minister of Education declared in 1847 that: Commissions are being formed in Belgium, in Spain, in Italy and in Germany after the example of our Historical Committees… We would be right to congratulate ourselves for having, in this as in many other fields, taken the lead over other nations. (in López Trujillo 2006: 178).

The setting up of official committees to deal with antiquities further fostered the perception that caring for ancient sites and monuments was patriotic and therefore honorable. This resulted in an increase in literature about them, including books about the monuments of a particular town, region or country. In Spain, one such book was Monumental Tarragona published by Albiñana y de Borrás and Bofarull

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y Brocá (1849) and a decade later the Architectonic Monuments of Spain (Monumentos 1859). These books were not tourist guides, as they did not contain practical information. However, they became a very useful source of data, not only for intellectuals, but also for potential tourists and the emerging tourist industry, as well as for the guidebook business. The surge in the number of museums was also related to social reform, for it was argued that the educated masses would be less prone to revolution (Altick 1999; Cross 1990). Museums were considered as essential educational experiences for the formation of a nation’s citizens and the status conferred on antiquities as icons of the national past encouraged a marked rise in this type of institution. Interestingly, in accordance with their nationalist nature, depending on their status, the geographical scope of these museums became limited to a town, a region or a whole nation. With the exception of the largest museums, preference was given to local antiquities as against those from the classical lands. There was a dramatic expansion of local museums throughout the nineteenth century. In Britain, for example, the Museums Act of 1845 allowed “local authorities of more than 10,000 inhabitants to spend up to 1/2d of their rates on museums to promote ‘the instruction and amusement’ of the public” (Pearce 1990: 15). This encouraged a significant number of them to open museums, a trend especially noticeable from the 1870s. The wave of museum openings can be observed not only in Britain, but also in other countries, both in Europe and elsewhere. In Europe it can also be seen in Spain, where the dissolution of the monasteries in the 1840s led to the appearance of provincial museums with a marked increase in their numbers from the 1870s (Díaz-­Andreu et al. 2009: 21). It has already been mentioned that the Museum of French Monuments had a wide influence all over Europe. However, its impact was noted not only on that continent, but also on a world scale. This included newly independent countries such as Mexico and Peru, where museums were established in the 1820s (Díaz-Andreu 2007: 89, 90). More difficult to attribute to French influence is the setting-up of a small museum in the church of St Irini in Istanbul (Shaw 2002: Chap. 2). Finally in addition to nationalism and social reform, behind the opening of museums there was also imperialism, as can be seen in some of the colonies eager to emulate what was happening in the metropolis. In this context, several museums were opened in Algeria in the middle of the century (Oulebsir 2004).

Archaeology and the Leisure Industry: The Pioneers Leaving behind the exclusive elite background of the eighteenth century and its fixation on the Grand Tour, the travel business grew significantly in the nineteenth century as it gave way to tourism. The new industry progressively left behind the consideration of travel as a rite of passage to adulthood for society’s richest youngsters. It was now an activity that included amongst its practitioners the ever-growing middle classes, who were keen to enjoy their newly acquired right to leisure time (Baranowski and Furlough 2001). In 1764, about forty thousand travelers crossed

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from Britain to the port of Calais to visit the continent. Figures continued to grow and by 1840 as many as one hundred thousand Britons, out of a population of nearly 27  million, traveled to Europe every year (Brendon 1991: 10–11). In terms of domestic tourism, in the mid-1830s about a hundred thousand visitors went to the Kent seaside resorts of Margate and Ramsgate, and each year more than fifty thousand to Brighton on the Sussex coast (Brendon 1991: 11). The increasing numbers of more socially diverse people willing to become tourists at the end of the eighteenth and in the early nineteenth centuries was noted in France, where a distinction was made between tourists, regarded as “depending unquestioningly on the conventions that guided their tours”, and the travelers, who “possessed an originality and self-sufficiency in judgement” (Baranowski and Furlough 2001: 2). This novel meaning of ‘traveler’ was seemingly not very succesful in the long term. As defined it typified a sub-set of tourists. The French revolution and the Napoleonic period made the Grand Tour unfeasible. By the time it was possible to revive it, Europe had changed. The Grand Tour did not disappear but became relatively unimportant in comparison to shorter trips. The middle classes had less time and money than their eighteenth-century upper-­ class predecessors and therefore tourism had to adapt to this new situation. This included briefer journeys to coastal resorts, spas, mountains and historical towns in which archaeological ruins and monuments occupied a prominent position on the list of places to visit. In the new nationalist context, the latter were often used as an opportunity to learn about the home nation or, if abroad, to understand other nations that were clearly distinctive to one’s own. Monuments and antiquities helped people learn about other imagined communities, in keeping with Benedict Anderson’s insightful phrase (Anderson 1991). The nationalists’ acute interest in history was reflected in the offer to tourists, as this inevitably included visits to archaeological ruins and museums with collections of antiquities. It has been argued that through nationalism tourists were able to understand their experience by adopting a way of seeing that functioned as a myth, and as a way of remembering. In Europe, historical castles, market squares and grand cathedrals became the earliest references of the nation that domestic tourists identified with and foreign tourists were able to understand (Koshar 1998: 63). This also impacted on other countries, like Egypt, that were highly influenced by European education (Colla 2007), as the examples below will show. In America, the absence of a similar array of historic icons was made up for by endowing monumental status on grand landscapes (Kaufmann and Zimmer 1998; Shaffer 2001).

Touring Europe: Mysterious Ruins and Museums Tourist Guidebooks as a New Mass Industry The amount of travel literature required by the new middle classes made it possible for booksellers and printers to specialize in tourist guidebooks. The first to be produced in the nineteenth century were a continuation of those already existing in the eighteenth century (see Chap. 2) and also of the picturesque travels undertaken by

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the preceding generations including, in the French case, Laborde (1806–1820) and Waldeck (1837). Throughout the century, guidebooks became more sophisticated in terms of the quantity and quality of practical information they contained. Suggestions for itineraries were a novelty that represented a break with the previous tradition. They became instruction manuals dictating conventions on what to look for, how to look at it and what was important and what was not (Urry 1990: 4, 86). Guidebooks were complemented by the literature of romantic impressions or memoirs (Boyer 2005: 202–203). Publishing houses in the guidebook business were often combined with bookstores specializing in travel books. In France they were already present in the first years of the new century, as the opening of the Galignani bookstore in Paris in 1801 demonstrates (Berrino 2011: 25; Boyer 2005: 201). It would soon be competing with other early bookshop/publishing houses, such as Reichard, Richard and Napoléon Chaix (Boyer 2005: 200–204). Travel guides were also being produced in Germany, one of the earliest being Aloys Schreiber’s Guide to Travel on the Rhine and the Mosel and to the Spas of the Taunus (1812), with editions in German, French and English (Taylor 1998: 724). The market for Klein’s guide was the result of the new popularity of traveling along the Rhine, one of the favorite routes of the Grand Tourists on their way to Italy. As the aforementioned example indicates, some of the new guidebooks were related to the newly opened travel routes. The Rhine route had become extremely convenient after 1816, the year in which the first Rhine steamship, the British-built Prince of Orange, made the trip between Rotterdam and Cologne in four days, considerably shortening the time needed to travel between those two cities. From 1827 the Rhine route was facilitated by the regular freight between Cologne and Mainz. By 1839, 450,000 people were using it yearly (Taylor 1998: 72). This was the context in which Karl Baedeker started his travel guide firm. His introduction to the business took place in 1831 when he decided to reprint the Rheinreise von Mainz bis Köln; ein Handbuch für Schnellreisende (A Rhine Journey from Mainz to Cologne; a Handbook for Travelers on the Move) written by a history teacher, Johann August Klein. After the author’s death in 1831, Karl Baedeker resolved to reissue it, adding a map of the river, which increased its value significantly, as maps were rare at the time. In a new reprint in 1835 he added an architectural-historical supplement by the architect Johann Claudius von Lassaulx (Hinrichsen 2008: 21). In the 1830s and 40s the guidebook business increased considerably. In France, Valéry published many travel books, one of which included the word tourist in the title, a Tourist Manual for Italy (Valéry 1841). In 1841, also in France, the journalist Adolf Joanne began to publish the popular Guides Joanne in 1841 (Joanne 1841; Sillitoe 1996: 5). In Britain, John Murray produced travel guides after publishing his first handbook (as opposed to earlier travel accounts), a Handbook for Travelers on the Continent, in 1836. In addition to Murray, a myriad of smaller companies proliferated, starting with more local travel guides such as the Picturesque Tourist of Scotland in 1840 (Schaff 2009: 108) in the case of the Black Guides. In addition to a geographic specialization, some guidebooks focused on specific types of monuments; for example, James Burns published John Mason Neale’s Hierologus, or the

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Church Tourist (Neale 1843). Other guides dealt with subjects, mainly mountains, that competed with the interest in monuments. Murray’s genius was also shown here with his publication of A Hand-Book for Travelers in Switzerland (Murray 1838), substituting old-fashioned guides to the Alps, those written in German by Wyttenbach in 1777 and by Ebel, the latter with a translation into French (Ebel 1795). Murray initiated a new wave of guidebooks on mountain landscapes and the benefits of coming into contact with nature. They were soon followed by the first Guide Joanne in 1841. Between 1828 and 1891 at least fifty books about the Alps were published (Nordman 1997: 1036) Travel guides made the leap from bookstores to the first shops with books and magazines that appeared in the newly-built railway stations. In France, their number grew from forty-two in 1853 to more than a thousand by the end of the century (Nordman 1997: 1040). If they so wished, train travelers with these guides could see sights such as castles and churches, as well as some of the few archaeological sites mentioned in them. Visiting Churches, Castles and Other Medieval Ruins The first guidebooks showed a special regard for the medieval period, as they contained information about churches and other medieval buildings and monuments. Such sights also became the object of the services offered by amateur tour guides who, as mentioned by Taylor (1998: 74), in the area of the Rhine sought out customers at the inns next to the river around the 1820s. Ruins were seen as “National-­ Eigentum” (national property), as the Prussian prince, the future Frederick William IV, referred to them in 1828 (Taylor 1998: 77). To make the visit more ‘authentic’, some of these historical ruins were decorated with genuine or imitation medieval furniture. Archaeological objects and architectural artifacts, some of them newly collected, were also put on display in some of the earliest museums opened to the public, such as the Rhenish-Westphalian Antiquities Museum founded in 1820 at the University of Bonn (Taylor 1998: 77). In Germany, speaking about the 1840s, German historian Heinrich von Treitschke (1834-1896) recalled that never before had the ruined castles of the Rhine been so much visited and so highly appreciated… when the new steamboats were day by day conveying up the river cheerful young fellows, painters from Düsseldorf, students from Bonn, singers from Cologne. (in Taylor 1998: 72).

This same interest in churches and castles could also be seen in the British travel guides produced by John Murray. As explained  above, he had published his first handbook, a Handbook for Travelers on the Continent, in 1836. In this volume the following could be read in the section on “Belgian cities, and their architecture”: people who love churches are aware that the Low Countries are famed for Gothic architecture; nevertheless, but few of our yearly tourists pause long enough to enjoy fully the exceeding richness of Belgium in all that can gratify the eye of taste, or ‘awaken the enthusiasm of the antiquary’ (Murray 1836: 83).

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And speaking of Cologne, he suggested that: The churches of St. Pantaleon, of St. Martin, and St. Cunibert, though they may be passed over by the ordinary traveler, will highly interest the antiquary and student of Gothic architecture (Murray 1836: 226).

Around 1854, the printer Napoleon Chaix explained what tourists sought in medieval buildings in their tourist guidebooks these works must mount with the tourist in the wagons and answer all that is asked of them about the stations, about the landscape, the cities, the rivers, the castles and the monuments. They must give the picturesque and animated history, but always true, of all that interests the traveler: here, a drama of mourning and blood, a memory of feast and splendor, in this castle, a conquest of feudal suzerainty. There, a great act of royalty, an abbey with a mysterious legend, a city with the great struggles of its charter and its joint sworn. Even further, an idyll, a sweet expansion of the heart (in Nordman 1997: 1037).

In addition to churches, castles and ruins, early tourists also visited museums, the founding of which was discussed earlier. All these elements of tourist interest allowed the growth of another business, that of souvenirs. These could take the form of small plaster copies, as they did in Granada, where several workshops, including that of the official conservator of the Alhambra Palace, Rafael Contreras, reproductions were being sold already in 1851 as mentioned by George Alexander Hoskins in 1851 (1851: 193) and, more than fifteen years later H. Pemberton (1868: 222) (see Raquejo 1988: 4–8; Gómez Díaz 2016: 31n). This type of workshop multiplied from the 1880s (Museo Alhambra 2018). It is important to note that the interest in medieval antiquities did not exclude the continuation of the particular regard for classical archaeology, as can be seen in the institutions established at this time in many of the European capitals to exhibit Greek and Roman antiquities brought from the classical lands. One of these was the Royal Museum of Berlin that opened in 1830 (Taylor 1998: 78). However, Roman remains were also the focus of attention beyond these relatively-speaking elite institutions. Returning to John Murray’s Handbook for Travelers on the Continent (1836), we note that in Treves visitors were encouraged to visit its Roman remains: About a quarter of a mile from the baths, outside the walls, on the road to Olewig, is the Roman Amphitheatre … It is interesting in an historical as well as an antiquarian point of view, as it was upon this spot that Constantine entertained his subjects with an exhibition, which he called Frankish sports (Ludi Francici) and which consisted in exposing many thousand unarmed Frankish prisoners to be torn in pieces by wild beasts. He twice repeated these diversions (a. D. 306 and 313) and the fawning chroniclers of the time have not scrupled to call it a magnificent sight, “magnificum spectaculum, faniosa supplicia” (Murray 1836: 275). The Bridge over the Moselle is most probably the oldest Roman monument in Treves, and founded in the time of Augustus; it is mentioned by Tacitus, and the date of its construction has been fixed by a learned antiquarian about 28 years b.c. (Murray 1836: 277).

However, not everywhere in the developed Western world there were medieval churches, castles or other medieval monuments. North America, for example, had none. On that continent the emphasis was placed on landscapes and the wilderness. They symbolized the so-perceived adolescent nation lacking in culture (Löfgren

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1999: 37). The mountain tourist industry developed in the eastern United States in the 1820s in places such as the Catskills Falls. In the 1840s the spectacular Niagara Falls were connected to Buffalo by two daily steam-powered trains and this led the number of visitors to more than double from 20,000 in 1838 to 45,000 in 1847. Hotels and other attractions, such as museums, curiosity-shops and taverns, were built (Wurst 2011: 256). The many landscape paintings made at the time did not show monuments or a lone shepherd, as many of those in Europe would do, but instead a lonely Indian warrior or an Indian camp were added to the scenery (Löfgren 1999: 27). As will seen below, this would ultimately lead to an interest in the local indigenous past. The Birth of the Tourist Travel Agency and Private and Social Initiatives Along with the guidebook business, another industry born in the period covered by this chapter was the tourist company. The idea was first developed by Thomas Cook (1808-1892), a printer, Baptist missionary (1828) and an active pacifist. Cook first organized trips for groups of people in his efforts to distract them from the evils of drink and nicotine. He arranged his first trip in 1841 to take a group of people from Leicester to a temperance meeting in Loughborough on 5 July that year. The success of the outing led other temperate societies to request his services and in the following three years he organized similar trips in the English Midlands. His philanthropic efforts were soon turned into a commercial venture. In 1845 he managed to negotiate cheaper fares with different railways companies and organized a trip to Liverpool from Leicester, Nottingham and Derby. He published a 60-page booklet “with the view of assisting the tourists in the most economical disposal of their time and means” and in it he included a list of hotels, inns and boarding houses (Kark 2001). Some of the information he provided came, as he explicitly explained, from other books such as The Stranger’s Guide through Liverpool (Brown 1843). In his guidebook, Cook not only repeatedly pointed out the engineering successes of train tunnels and bridges, but also recommended churches and other monuments that could be visited or seen from the train. Archaeology was only present in passing, as when he explained that after the train left Conway, the first object of attraction is Penmaen Mawr, the terminating point of the Caernarvonshire mountains… On the summit of this immense protruding mass, the antiquary will find himself among the ruins of an extensive though irregular British fortification; which, from its situation, must have been impregnable, and, famine excepted, invincible (Cook 1845 (1998): 42).

The success of his trip to Liverpool – 1200 tickets sold in a few days – led Cook to organize a second trip two weeks later. Having included in this one a climb to the summit of Snowdon, he decided to extend his area of action to Scotland. In 1846 he took tourists to the Scottish Highlands for the first time and negotiated with the railway companies a system of circular tourist tickets. Five years later, he ­transported 165,000 people to the Great Exhibition in Hyde Park, London. The end of some of the agreements he had with the railway companies in 1862 encouraged him to

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search for new markets. In 1863 he expanded his business with trips to France and Switzerland and negotiated circular tickets with the continental railway systems. In 1865 he did the same in North America and four years later he conducted his first party to Egypt. In 1872, he went around the world on a 222-day trip (Smith 1998). The role archaeological tourism had in this was very important, as can be seen from the itineraries that will be mentioned in the next section. We cannot end this account of the birth of the tourist travel agencies without mentioning the many and diverse outings organized on private initiative. Those planned by the increasing number of learned societies should also be mentioned here, as some of them took an interest in archaeological remains and encouraged visits to ruins and monuments. One example was the archaeological pilgrimages to Hadrian’s Wall organized from 1849 by the reverend, schoolmaster and antiquarian, John Collingwood Bruce (1805-1892), who replicated the experience of a family holiday taken the previous year (Birley 2013: 132). Bruce was an active member of the Society of Antiquaries of Newcastle-upon-Tyne.

Touring the Archaeology of the Great Civilizations Thomas Cook did not only take tourists around Britain, but also went to Paris, the Swiss Alps and, from 1850, to Italy, going even further in 1867 when he organized the first trip to Egypt (Brendon 1991: Chaps. 7 and 8). The selection of countries to visit was not random. To begin with, it followed the routes of the Grand Tour and then expanded to an area to which only a few travelers had ventured in the eighteenth century: Egypt. Tourism in Italy The first edition of Murray’s Handbook to Central Italy was issued in 1843 (Fig. 3.2). Other publishers took much longer to print their first Italian travel guides: Baedeker’s came out in 1867 and Thomas Cook waited until 1873. Murray’s 1843 edition was a thick volume of 567 pages. The information about Rome filled almost 300 pages and, in addition to practical information on issues such as accommodation, post offices and banks, the guide reported on ancient, medieval and modern Rome. The 56 pages dedicated to ancient Rome described forums, palaces, temples, theaters, amphitheaters, columns, arches, baths, tombs, columbaria, aqueducts, obelisks and what was listed as miscellaneous (Murray 1843: 263–329). Archaeologists, such as the Italian Antonio Nibby (Nibby 1837), the Reverend Richard Burgess (Burgess 1831) and Edward Burton (Burton 1828), as well as many other antiquity specialists, were mentioned in its pages. A visit to the Colosseum was recommended and the section dedicated to it began by stating: There is no monument of ancient Rome which artists and engravers have made so familiar to readers of all classes … and there is certainly none of which the descriptions and drawings are so far surpassed by the reality. We shall not attempt to anticipate the feelings of the

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Fig. 3.2  Title page of John Murray Handbook to Central Italy (1843)

traveler, or obtrude upon him a single word which may interfere with his own impressions, but simply supply him with such facts as may be useful in his examination of the ruin (Murray 1843: 294).

It alluded to the staircase that allowed visitors near the Old Hermitage to climb to the parapet. Once at the summit they would be able to observe one of the most impressive sights “in the world, and there are few travelers who do not visit the spot by moonlight in order to realize the magnificent description in [Lord Byron’s] ‘Manfred,’ the only description which has ever done justice to the wonders of the

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Coliseum” (Murray 1843: 296) (see Schaff 2009 for the extensive use of Byron’s novels in John Murray’s guidebooks and Macaulay (1953: 197–202) for the visit of other writers at this time). By 1860, however, the moonlight visit to the Colosseum was not as romantic as tourists would have wished for. In that year Nathaniel Hawthorne’s novel The Marble Faun narrated a crowded moonlit visit in which those trying to feel Bryon’s words up on the parapet area coincided with people laughing and shrieking, some of them partying and singing, and with couples flirting and playing peek-a-boo in the shadows (Hopkins and Beard 2011: 20). In 1862, the experience was even more adulterated with the possibility of a private light show with blue and red lights (Hopkins and Beard 2011: 17). As with the Colosseum, the visit to the other well-known archaeological sites, such as Pompeii, changed over the decades covered in this chapter. The extension of the railway system made it easier to visit the site. In 1839 the train had reached the nearby town of Torre Annunziata and in 1844 Pompeii itself. Visitors were welcome with a signpost and the words “Pompeii Station. A Greco-Roman city and a railroad station” (Rowland 2014: 146–147). Another important transformation came when Pompeii’s superintendent and excavator from 1863 to 1875, Giuseppe Fiorelli, came up with the idea of making plaster casts of the hollows left by the bodies of the Pompeiians killed by the eruption of Vesuvius. A selection of these casts was put on display in a small antiquarium opened to the public next to the main entrance of the archaeological site (Rowland 2014), an exhibition that soon became one of the visitors’ favorite stops. The tourist attraction of archaeological sites led to their retrieval from oblivion, but also proved to be extremely challenging for their preservation. To maintain the memory of the experience they were going through, as today, tourists procured a series of mementoes or ‘souvenirs’. The protection of archaeological sites had not been developed and the souvenir industry was only in its infancy (as shown by the example of the Alhambra given above), and it was not uncommon for tourists to pick up small original  pieces of something that attracted their attention at the archaeological sites. Visitors could also purchase archaeological objects in the growing number of businesses selling antiquities. These businesses sold to both less well-off travelers and to more ambitious collectors, some of whom later donated their collections to museums in their home countries. One example of this is the British Museum’s collection of Etruscan bronzes, which originates from that period and stems from a series of donations, some small and others large, from collections such as that of Richard Payne Knight (1750-1824) (Wellard 1973: 52). The discovery of the necropolis of Vulci led some dealers to specialize in Etruscan antiquities and there was a mention of an ‘antique supermarket’ in Chiusi in 1844 (Wellard 1973: 54). Visitors were invited to be present at the opening of new tombs, as Mrs Hamilton Gray experienced in 1839, with the spectators later sharing the booty (Wellard 1973: 58–61). In her descriptions it is evident that the tomb paintings had already begun to deteriorate (Gray 1841; Wellard 1973: 63–64). In addition to the handbooks and ‘souvenirs’, another feature of a visit to an archaeological site in Italy was the guidebook. In the case of Etruscan archaeology,

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we find some information in a volume that falls somewhere between a travel book and a specialized corpus published by explorer George Dennis (1848), The Cities and Cemeteries of Etruria, where we can read the following recommendation: The visitor to Corneto [the old name for Tarquinia] will do well to obtain an introduction to Signor Carlo Avvolta, once the gonfaloniere, or chief magistrate of the city, now the consultore, or counsellor of Civita Vecchia. He is a lively, intelligent old gentleman, experienced in excavations, deeply interested in the antiquities of this site… ever ready to impart information and displaying as much courtesy to strangers as cordiality to his friends (in Wellard 1973: 89)

In contrast to Italy, traveling to Greece remained dangerous until much later in the century and the lower number of re-editions of the travel guide produced by John Murray in 1840 (Murray 1840) reflects the difficulties. Tourism did not begin in this area until the 1880s (see Chap. 4) and here, as it was the case in most of Eastern Mediterranean, not tourists but travelers continued making sporadic visits to its ruins (Macaulay 1953: Chaps. 2 and 4). Egypt As in the case of Italy and Greece, John Murray was the first publisher to issue a major tourist guide for Egypt. In fact, the company had been publishing travel accounts to Egypt since its early days when John Murray II (1778-1843) was the head of the company inherited from his father in 1803 (Legh 1816; Belzoni 1820). In contrast to this travel literature, it was his son, John Murray III (1808-1892), who began in 1836, as we saw above, to publish the first tourist guidebooks, or handbooks as they were then called, which combined descriptions of monuments and sites to visit with practical information such as means of transport and accommodation (Fig. 3.3). Only a decade later, he was the first to venture into Africa, publishing the first-ever Handbook for Egypt (Wilkinson 1847). This was a condensed version of his Modern Egypt and Thebes (Wilkinson 1843) authored by the man considered to be the first British Egyptologist, Sir John Gardner Wilkinson. In the handbook, information about the archaeology of the sites was complemented by the addition of practical information, such as the hotels to stay in (Gregory 1999: 119–120). From a business point of view, Murray’s initiative was not as unwise as one would have thought, given that others waited for much longer to venture in Egypt. The atmosphere was favorable, especially for the British, due to the preferential treatment they received. The self-proclaimed Khedive of Egypt and Sudan, Muhammad Ali, had been welcoming British travelers since 1815 and, following a halt due to an outbreak of the plague in the early 1830s, there was a significant increase in the popularity of Egypt as a destination. Egypt also became part of the route to British India, when the overland route to the Asian subcontinent through that country was opened (Martin Anderson 2012: 261–272).

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Fig. 3.3  Hotel Mena-House and pyramids photographed by Bonfils in 1867 (Source: Wikimedia Commons)

In 1841, the English travel writer Emma Roberts wrote that The antiquities of Egypt have been too deeply studied by the erudite Christian countries, for an unlearned traveler to entertain a hope of being able to throw any additional light upon them. Modern tourists must, therefore, be content with the feelings which they excite, and to look to the present state of things for subjects of any promise of interest to the readers of their journals (in Anderson 2012: 277, emphasis added).

Her account shows that by 1840 the tourism infrastructure had developed enough to provide adequate accommodation and transportation and a safe environment for women traveling alone. A number of sites had become standard visits, including Pompey’s Pillar, Cleopatra’s Needle and the Pyramids (Martin Anderson 2012: 277) and a museum was opened in the old post office at Boulaq in 1854. The embryonic ‘souvenir’ business included a lively trade in Egyptian mummies (Wellard 1973: 76). In the period discussed in this article, from 1800 to 1870, Egypt came within reach, both geographically and intellectually. As mentioned in the introduction, the changes in transportation made it increasingly easy to reach the country. The 41 days needed in 1829 to journey from England to Alexandria had been cut to just two weeks in 1843 and a few years later to just ten days. By 1850 20,000 tourists a year were visiting Egypt (Martin Anderson 2012: 278). Other more local guidebooks, such as that for the Museum of the Boulaq, were issued to complement Murray’s handbook

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that, in 1858, was already was on its fourth edition. In the 1860s, the museum director, Mariette, had the museum guide translated into Arabic (Gady 2011: 48). As we will see in Chap. 4, other parts of the world had to wait until the last decades of the nineteenth century to see the arrival of the tourist guidebook. Regarding Mesopotamia, none was published before the 1870s, the period we deal with in this chapter, but accounts of journeys and excavations, such as Layard’s Discoveries in the Ruins of Nineveh and Babylon (Layard 1853), encouraged people to travel to the area (Fagan 2007: Chap. 7). The same can be said of most of the Latin American countries, about which several general books were published in those years, including those by the American traveler-diplomat Ephraim Squier on countries such as Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador and Peru (Fagan 2006: Chap. 9; Hinsley 1993) or the French traveler Désirée Charnay (Bueno 2016: 30; Davis 1981). There was even an expedition to Mexico (Le Goff and Prevost Urkidi 2009) and in each country numerous collections were organized by local antiquarians (Alcina Franch 1995; Gänger 2014; Hernández Godoy 2018). The Great Civilizations Come Home Despite the increasing number of Western tourists travelling beyond their own country’s frontiers, not everybody could afford this and knowledge of what tourists could see in places like Rome or Egypt or other even more exotic places was made accessible by other means, the first of these being museums (Williams 1993). In addition to these more permanent institutions, there were also popular exhibits and international exhibitions or world fairs. One of the first was the very successful Egyptian Hall organized by Giovanni Baptisa Belzoni that opened in London on 1 May 1821 for a year (Fagan 1975: 240–245). A more profound influence was exerted by the world fairs, which began in 1851 with the Great Exhibition of London. These fairs became major drivers of tourism. They were windows onto other countries and raised the curiosity of large numbers of potential tourists, a curiosity that extended to places either not that popular at the time or that were still beyond the reach of tourism. Thus, in 1851 the reconstruction of part of the Alhambra Palace of Spain, a country not frequently visited during those years, was regarded with awe (Raquejo 1988) and possibly encouraged many to later make an effort and travel to visit the actual palace. The construction of a Nineveh Court showing reproductions of the ancient giant sculptures that had recently reached Britain allowed visitors to further familiarize themselves with antiquities that were out of reach for the majority (Bahrani 2011: 130; Larsen 1996: 219). In that year the importance of antiquities was bolstered by visits to other attractions in London, such as the British Museum. This institution received two and a half million visitors during the time of the 1851 fair (Caygill 1992: 50). Regarding the impact of these events and the tourist side trips to museums, two examples come to mind: those of Fox, later called Pitt-Rivers (1827-1900) and John R. Mortimer (1825-1911), whose presence in 1851 would later result in them building other museums in Oxford and Driffield respectively (Bowden 1991: 47; Giles 2006: 281). From 1867, world fairs

References

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would successfully include displays from periods that until then had attracted few tourists, such as those of showing prehistoric objects organized by the archaeologist Gabriel de Mortillet (1821-1898) (Müller-­Scheessel 2001).

Conclusions Tourism was a product of the political, social and technological revolution that shook the Western world at the end of the eighteenth century and crystallized in around the 1840s. The political changes placed importance on antiquities as symbols of the past and this encouraged state and private initiative to excavate new sites, restore ancient monuments, create posts of monument inspectors, open museums and establish university chairs to train those who worked with antiquities. The infrastructure for tourism thus created was taken advantage of by private businesses to establish themselves in and around the tourist industry; for example, the publication and sale of travel guidebooks and the organization of tours. The social revolution determined the profile of the tourist: an individual who belonged to either the upper classes or, more frequently, to the growing middle classes and whose appreciation for both learning and leisure counterbalanced their long working hours. The technological revolution facilitated travel, making it quicker and cheaper to reach new destinations. In Europe, the antiquities visited at the time were mainly medieval monuments, followed by Roman remains. Rome, Pompeii and the rest of Italy continued to have a huge appeal for visitors, although the Grand Tour practically disappeared during the decades covered by this chapter, up to the 1860s. Egypt was the second in importance in foreign travel, thanks to a relatively stable political situation and a sovereign who protected visitors (although especially those coming from Britain). The newly-opened route to India though that country further bolstered tourism to its impressive antiquities. Other places, such as Greece, Mesopotamia and beyond, remained largely out of reach of travelers. In North America, the absence of medieval monuments led to a focus on landscapes, while traveling to the southern part of the continent remained the domain of the occasional traveler or expedition. The following period, from the 1870s to World War I, naturally followed the aforementioned traits: larger numbers of the middle classes traveling, even more facilities for making journeys thanks to the railway network, further legislation to protect leisure time, museums, and more travel guidebooks covering a larger geographical area and specializing in more specific topics.

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Raquejo, T. (1988). La Alhambra en el museo Victoria and Albert: Un catálogo de las piezas de la Alhambra y de algunas obras neonazaríes. Cuadernos de Arte e Iconografía, I(1), 201–244. Reid, D. M. (2002). Whose pharaoh? Archaeology, museums and Egyptian national identity from Napoleon to World War I. Berkeley: University of California Press. Ridley, R. T. (1992). The eagle and the spade. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Rowland, I. (2014). From Pompeii: The afterlife of a Roman Town. Yale: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. Schaff, B. (2009). John Murray’s handbooks to Italy: Making tourism literary. In N.  J. Watson (Ed.), Literary tourism and nineteenth-century culture (pp. 106–118). Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Schivelbusch, W. (1986). The railway journey: The industrialization of time and space in the nineteenth century. Berkeley: University of California. Schnapp, A. (1996). French archaeology: Between national identity and cultural identity. In M. Díaz-Andreu & T. Champion (Eds.), Nationalism and archaeology in Europe (pp. 48–67). London: UCL Press. Shaffer, M. S. (2001). Seeing the Nature of America: The National Parks as National Assets, 1914– 1929. In S. Baranowski & E. Furlough (Eds.), Being elsewhere. Tourism, consumer culture and identity in Modern Europe and North America (pp. 155–184). Ann Arbor: Michigan University. Shaw, W. (2002). Possessors and possessed: Objects, museums, and the visualization of history in the late Ottoman Empire, 1846–1923. Berkeley: University of California Press. Sillitoe, A. (1996). Leading the blind, a century of guidebook travel. London: Papermac. Smith, P. (1998). Introduction. In C.  Thomas (Ed.), A hand book of the trip from Leicester, Nottingham, and Derby to Liverpool and the coast of north Wales (pp. v–ix). London: Routledge, Thoemmes Press. Springer, C. (1987). The marble wilderness: Ruins and representation in Italian romanticism 1775–1850. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Taylor, R. R. (1998). The Castles of the Rhine: Recreating the Middle Ages in Modern Germany. Waterloo: Wilfrid Laurier University Press. Thompson, E. P. (1967). Time, work, discipline, and industrial capitalism. Past and Present, 38, 56–97. Urry, J. (1990). The tourist gaze. London: Sage. Valéry, A. C. P. (1841). L’Italie confortable. Manuel du touriste. Paris: Louis Renouard. Waldeck, J.-F. de. (1837). Voyage archéologique et pittoresque dans le Yucatan. Paris: Imprimerie de Firmin Didot. Wellard, J. (1973). The search for the Etruscans. London: Nelson. Wetherall, D. (1998). The growth of archaeological societies. In V. Brand (Ed.), The study of the past in the Victorian age (pp. 21–34). Oxford: Oxbow Books. Wilkinson, J. G. (1843). Modern Egypt and Thebes: Being a description of Egypt, including information required for travellers in that country. London: J. Murray. Wilkinson, J. G. (1847). Hand-book for travellers in Egypt. London: J. Murray. Williams, E. A. (1993). Collecting and exhibiting pre-Columbiana in France and England, 1870– 1930. In E. H. Boone (Ed.), Collecting the pre-Columbian past (pp. 123–140). Washington, DC: Dumbarton Oaks Research Library and Collection. Wurst, L. (2011). “Human Accumulations”: class and tourism at Niagara Falls. International Journal of Historical Archaeology [Special Issue: Going Places: The Historical Archaeology of Travel and Tourism], 15(2), 254–266.

Chapter 4

Promoting the National Past. Archaeology and Tourism in the Late Nineteenth and Early Twentieth Centuries

In many ways the account given in this chapter is the logical continuation of the previous one. In several aspects it will be pointed out that we find more of the same: in tourism more people belonging to the middle classes, more free time now guaranteed by new legislation, better means of transport made easier to use by the standardization of time, a greater and more varied number of destinations, and an expansion of the means of viewing them with the introduction of an ever-growing number of tourist guidebooks and the appearance of the postcard. In this context, archaeological tourism continued to develop during the decades between 1870 and World War I. This will be seen in the chapter by following a geographical sequence, moving from Italy, Greece and Egypt to other areas of the world but at the same time also focusing attention on the countries where most of the tourists traveling abroad came from. In this chapter it will be possible to see how the tourist gaze created in the eighteenth and especially in the early decades of the nineteenth century (Chaps. 2 and 3) was at the root of tourists expectations and ways of looking in this period.

Tourism from the 1870s to the Great War The final decades of the nineteenth century and the years up to the Great War saw a widening of the social base of tourism. The importance in the social pyramid of the middle classes, a group that had already seen a first impulse in the post-Napoleonic decades (see Chap. 3), reached new heights. The increasing importance of the bourgeoisie had an effect on tourism, as it firmly established itself dominant group, far outnumbering the landed classes. Their growth had begun in the early decades of the nineteenth century as a result of the industrial revolution and its need for manual and clerical workers. Interestingly, throughout the nineteenth century, and especially in its last decades, the widening of the social base of tourism could also be seen in the growing number of women touring on their own. Touring required free

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time for leisure and this was acknowledged by legislation such as Britain’s Bank Holiday Act of 1871, which also benefited the working class. By the end of the century, many workers also had a half day holiday on Saturday, and this underpinned the beginnings of an interest in touring among the less-privileged members of the society. Nevertheless, traveling to long-distance destinations required longer vacations and these would be limited to the upper classes and the better-off among the middle classes, a growing minority that was increasingly able to afford them. Tourism did not only need free time but also practical and reasonably-priced means of traveling to the places to visit. In the period from 1870 to World War I the means of transport expanded in number and networks. By 1870, the railway grid, the construction of which had begun half a century earlier, had been enlarged significantly. Before the start of the period covered in this chapter rail networks had appeared in many countries, including the United States (1829), Britain (1831), Germany (Saxony in 1835), France (1837) and India (1853). During the decades dealt with in this chapter, the spread of the railway continued apace. In the United States, for example, the rail link connecting the Atlantic and Pacific coasts was completed in 1869. Between 1870 and 1900, the American railroad system grew almost fourfold from 53,000 miles to over 190,000 miles, a figure that reached 254,000 miles by 1916. The networks expanded in other parts of the world: Japan (1872), China (1876) and Nigeria (1901) are just three examples (Hynson 1998: 8–12). Roads were also improved and between the late 1870s and the 1920s in countries such as the United States, where a newly-founded Good Roads Movement called for further upgrades. This pressure group was led by cyclists, but it was later joined by the early drivers of the new automobiles (Kelly 2017). The first of these had appeared in the 1880s, but mass production only began with the introduction of the assembly line in the early years of the twentieth century, the consequences of which will be seen in Chap. 5. Closely linked to the expansion of the means of transport, and particularly to that of the railway, was the regulation of time. This had first taken place in England in 1849 but was only emulated elsewhere in the period discussed in this chapter. In the later decades of the nineteenth century the standardization of time was imposed in other countries, including Italy (1866), northern Germany (1874) and France (1891). This regulation left its mark on the tourist guides, which began to include exact opening and closing times, mainly from the 1880s. Leisure time was spent in various ways. Many had nothing to do with high culture, such as children’s playgrounds, the first being built in Manchester in 1859. Seaside resorts had also become popular from the 1830s. Some, such as Brighton, were favored by the working classes, while others attracted more well-to-do members of society. Most of the latter were abroad, in areas such as the French Riviera and the Venetian Lido (Walton 2001). However, for those members of the middle classes wishing to emulate the “Grand Tourists” of the eighteenth century, traveling to countries in which to experience the ancient remains of the Classical period became obligatory. A more elitist experience developed during this period in Egypt, which became a favorite winter journey from the late 1880s. Tourism brought a new way of seeing things through tourist handbooks and postcards. Much of this was directed by the tourist guidebooks, then called hand-

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books, which had first been produced in the 1830s (see Chap. 3) and now received an incredible boost. In Germany, for example, in the years from 1869 to 1872, geographical works and tour guides amounted to 24% of the total German book production (Koshar 1998: 331). In France, the Guide Joanne produced many tourist guidebooks, almost a hundred of them on destinations outside France (Nordman 1997: 1047). During the period dealt with in this chapter, the postcard also emerged as a medium for the rapid dissemination of the various views it was possible to see. They appeared in France in 1872, but it was during the 1889 Paris World Fair that the first illustrated postcard was shown. In 1894, the invention of phototypy, an inexpensive image printing process, made the serial production and use of photography for postcards possible (Oulebsir 2004: 205). The postcard industry boomed in the decades around the turn of the century, the golden age of the postcard (Löfgren 1999: 77).

Visiting Classical Antiquities As seen in Chap. 3, the social transformation that led to the emergence of tourism had taken place in the context of nationalism, a political ideology that in the nineteenth century turned out to be a key factor in the definition of the state. Consequently, learning about a nation’s history and art became one of the essential elements of schooling. Of relevance to archaeology was the favored position of the Classics in learning due to that period’s ideological links to ideas such as the Good, the Rational and the Truth as the Enlightenment basis of the idea of the nation. Knowledge of antiquity and the history of classical art predisposed an appreciation of ancient sites and archaeology. The prestige that traveling and touring had acquired in the previous century (Chap. 2), and that had continued in the first part of the nineteenth century (Chap. 3), encouraged the middle classes to embrace them and to include visits to archaeological sites in their wanderings. The first tourist guidebook to Italy, published in 1843, referred to the center of the Italian Peninsula (see Chap. 3), and the key importance of Italy in tourism meant that only three decades later the whole country had been covered. By the end of the period dealt with in this chapter, Italy had the honor of being the country with the most guides written about it, a total of 109. Traveling to Italy was no longer an exclusive enterprise. As explained in Chap. 3, in his 1860 novel The Marble Faun (1860), Nathaniel Hawthorne was already describing a moonlit visit to the Colosseum as a noisy, unpleasant experience, with other visitors shouting, playing in the shadows, laughing and flirting. He also described a group of English or American visitors who, clasping their handbook (presumably John Murray’s), were ‘exalting themselves with raptures that were Byron’s not their own’ (in Hopkins and Beard 2011: 20)). For those with a thirst for higher knowledge, talks were organized by the British and American Society in Rome. Murray’s guide to Rome recommended these in its 1888 edition, as well as the tours it organized and the o­ pportunity of joining the society on a temporary or permanent basis (J.  Murray 1888: 19, Gómez Díaz 2016: 24).

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Visiting the monuments in Italy had become a regulated enterprise. In the Colosseum, for example, the moonlight experience of the monument could include a private light show with blue and red lights from 1862. In 1881 it was explained that “no permission from the authorities is required to visit the Colosseum by moonlight”, and it seems that the illumination had been restricted to the annual celebrations of the birth of Rome, the Natale di Roma, on 21 April, when it was illuminated “with white, green and red lights, a splendid sight, … or on the occasion of a royal visit to the Eternal City” (in Hopkins and Beard 2011: 18). Regulations were also in place at Pompeii and in them it is possible to notice the effect of the standardization of time. In 1887, guidebooks explained that visits were only allowed from dawn to sunset, but by 1896 the opening times had changed to from 7 am to 6 pm (Baedeker 1887: 126; 1896: 119). In exceptional cases, with the permission of the excavation director, Giuseppe Fiorelli (1860-75), it was possible to pay for admission for 14  days, but normally the ticket cost 2 francs (in 1881), although it was free on Sundays. The cost of the ticket included tour guides. In 1881 there were sixty of them and the admission ticket included the right to dispose of the services that they were able to provide in Italian, French and English (Gómez Díaz 2016: 39). One could learn in these handbooks that the guided tours lasted for two hours, but a more thorough, although still superficial, inspection of the site took twice as long. If possible, two visits were recommended, the first with a tour guide and a second without (Baedeker 1896). The Baedeker guide advised that in order to summon up from these mutilated walls an accurate picture of ancient life, frequent and prolonged visits and patient observation are indispensable. The evening is the most enjoyable time for the visit, when the lights and shadows on the surrounding mountains and the illumination of the ruins by the declining sun invest the place with magic fascination. (Baedeker 1896: 120)

The handbook explained that complaints about tour guides should be made to the assistente, i.e. inspector, or to the director in Naples, and they were “sure to receive attention” (Baedeker 1896: 119). Regarding refreshments, it seems that at the end of the century none was available inside the site itself and if you went out you had no choice but to pay the entrance fee again (Baedeker 1896: 119). This was amended when, a few years later, it was possible to have lunch in the site (Romero Recio 2012: 94). Accommodation was available at three hotels in the vicinity of Pompeii (Gómez Díaz 2016: 45). A new trend emerged in this period: the use of some of the Roman monuments unearthed by excavations for theatrical performances and other events. In Pompeii, for example, in 1884 a charity event was organized to collect funds to help those affected by the earthquake on the island of Ischia the previous year. A program printed with Pompeian style letters included, from 29-31 May 1884, Roman circus games (Fig. 4.1), a nuptial procession, a funeral ceremony and a gladiatorial combat. These celebrations, described by one of the attendees, the Spanish politician Carlos Groizard, were perceived in historical terms: in the Pompeian amphitheater, marked by an ancient misfortune, had lent itself to come to the aid of a new catastrophe (Editor 1884; Groizard Coronado 1884).

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Fig. 4.1  Drawing by the artist Mariano Benlliure illustrating the article by Groizard Coronado on the charity event in the Pompeian amphitheater on 29 May 1884. Published in Groizard Coronado (1884: 352–353)

Tourism to Greece and Anatolia had to wait until banditry had been brought under control. Thomas Cook and Son’s tours to Athens and Constantinople had begun in 1868, but had been suspended almost immediately, after the so-called Dilessi Murders in 1870, when a party of British and Italian visitors to Marathon was captured and some were killed (Harlan 2009: 423). The industry recovered in the 1880s and this was reflected by the publication of the first Baedeker for Greece (Baedeker 1883) and the fifth edition of Murray’s guide (Yule 1884); by World War I between them Murray and Baedeker had published eleven English editions on Greece (Reid 2002: 91). As in Italy and Egypt, many archaeologists cooperated closely with the tourist industry. Thus, in 1875, John Murray published Schliemann’s Troy and its remains: a narrative of researches and discoveries made on the site of Ilium and in the Trojan Plain (Schliemann 1875). Several travel accounts were also published, especially by academics, having received some attention those by Farrer, Mahaffy and Sandys, the last two prominent members of the Hellenic Society (Peckham 1999; Harlan 2009: 435). The regained security in the area encouraged the Thomas Cook Company to open offices in Athens and Constantinople in 1883, targeting the educated middle classes for their trips (Harlan 2009: 426, 435). First-hand knowledge of antiquities was also encouraged by the foreign schools and an example of this is the excellent

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record of the experience gathered by a young Harvard graduate, Harold N. Fowler, in the early 1880s. His diary has provided much information about the day excursions and a longer study trip throughout the Peloponnese (Priscilla M. Murray and Runnels 2007). In the first decade of the twentieth century sixteen museums were opened to the public. This impressive number of new institutions was dated to the aftermath of Greece’s defeat by Turkey in 1897. The national crisis that ensued was the context in which the museums were created, as a way of redefining national identity. Because their remote location, however, some of these museums were never designed to be visited by many visitors (Gazi 2008: 68, 72). In Asia Minor tourists would travel by steamer from Constantinople to Smyrna and from there visit Ephesus. Unfortunately once there, many visitors made sure they knocked off chips of stone to take home as souvenirs (Greenhalgh 2013: 370–373). As occurred throughout the nineteenth century in Western Europe, the presence of Western archaeologists led to some of the sites being heavily reconstructed. This was the case of the Palace of Minos at Knossos, whose heavy restoration was undertaken by Arthur Evans (Klynne 1998; MacGillivray 2000). In Miletus the theatre and the thermal baths of Faustina were reconstructed by their German excavators before World War I, although some of the architecture, such as the gate to the south market, were taken to Berlin to be exhibited there (Maischberger 2009: 203). Whole or partial reconstructions of monuments were also shown in museums, such as at the newly-opened site museum at Delphi in 1903 (Colonia 2006: 17) (Fig. 4.2).

Fig. 4.2  Inauguration of the first museum at Delphi in 1903

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The Lure of Egypt The improvements in transport made reaching Egypt more affordable. In the 1840s it was calculated that a minimum of three months was necessary to visit that country, but 30 years later it was possible to do it in half that time, although the recommendation was to allow between two and a half and five months (Reid 2002: 68). An 1898, a Thomas Cook pamphlet stated that Cairo had become “no more than a winter suburb of London” (in Löfgren 1999: 162). The museum that had been set up in the old post office at Boulaq in 1854 was moved to the Gizeh Palace in 1889 and in 1902 to a purpose-built museum. The first guidebooks had been published in the 1840s (see Chap. 3) and many more editions were issued in the period dealt with in this chapter. As had happened earlier in the century, archaeologists and other scholars of antiquity continued to cooperate in their writing, as mentioned in this preface to the second edition of Baedeker’s Tourist guide for Lower Egypt: The materials from which the first edition of the Handbook for Lower Egypt was compiled were partly furnished by Professor G. Ebers of Leipsic, while articles on special subjects, as well as many additions and emendations, were contributed by a number of other writers. The Editor is specially indebted to Professor Ascherson and Dr. Klunzinger of Berlin, Dr. G.  Schweinfurth and Franz Bey of Cairo, Professor Springer of Leipsic, and Professor Soein of Tubingen. To several English gentlemen who contributed a number of valuable corrections and suggestions, and particularly to the distinguished Egyptologist, Dr. Samuel Birch, the Editor also begs to tender his grateful acknowledgements. (Baedeker 1885: v)

A colleague of one of them, the Egyptologist and professor at the University of Leipzig, Georg Ebers’ (1837-1898), commented positively in a learned journal: only few may know that the journey [referring to his own to Egypt] was also undertaken for the purposes of a Baedeker project. Baedeker is currently letting a large number of experts travel in the Orient, in order to produce a travel guide thereto. As much as this is to the benefit of the tourist and the improved knowledge of the Orient, so it is also a measure of the means expended on the Baedeker guides, and certainly this is not limited to material means, but the use of important scientific resources is latterly a characteristic feature of Baedeker’s undertakings (in Hinrichsen 2008: 45-46).

Eber’s heir to the chair, Egyptologist Georg Steindorff (Baedeker 1898), also collaborated on a later travel guide that included the whole of Egypt (Hinrichsen 2008: 47). Thomas Cook also commissioned the Keeper of Egyptian Antiquities in the British Museum, Wallis Budge, to write a compendious volume entitled Notes for Travelers (Budge 1890), that would then be used by all passengers on the company’s Nile steamers (Gregory 1999: 118). The traveler Douglas Sladen mentioned that “without any doubt the easiest way to see the typical sights of the Nile between Cairo and Luxor, and between Luxor and Aswan, is to go on one of Cook’s Tourist steamers” (Sladen 1908: 429). In this way, reading and seeing came together when cruising the Nile (Fig. 4.3). In Egypt the steamer was complemented by the donkey as a means of transport Cook’s arrangements for excursions work with automatic ease. In a few seconds the great steamer runs alongside and has her gangway out; donkeys are waiting for the passengers, with dragomans and policemen to terrorize the donkey-boys. You are told the exact amount

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Fig. 4.3  Busily reading their Baedekers (Gregory 1999: Fig. 1) of baksheesh which you are to pay. The white asses amble off at a most comfortable pace, but the boys soon begin to push them into a gallop, thinking that they will get extra baksheesh, though they only succeed in raising extra dust. The first excursion, the trip to the Pyramids and Tombs of Sakkara, is a delightful one (Sladen 1908: 430).

All the typical sights from the steamers mentioned by Douglas Sladen were archaeological monuments (Sladen 1908: 429–430). All the best books are in the ship library. Every steamer has a cozy reading-room fitted with writing tables and supplied with the latest newspapers, as well as with a library of books on Egypt (Sladen 1908: 414–415).

As the journalist and author Andrew Humphreys explains in his history of Thomas Cook’s monopoly on Nile boat transport: Having traveled 460 miles, the boat had reached Luxor; here, in the shadow of the riverside Temple of Luxor, it would be tied up and reprovisioned, while its passengers spent three days following their dragoman from temple to tomb. On clear moonlit nights, the sightseeing would begin almost immediately with a nighttime donkey ride to Karnak: if the moon was insufficient luminous, the magic would wait until morning. (Humphreys 2015:114).

In Egypt, John Cook (Thomas Cook’s son) developed his firm as a tourist operator while focusing on ancient Egyptian monuments. The issue of monument conservation comes up again when discussing archaeological tourism in Egypt. There were several methods to prevent deterioration. On the one hand, there were private sponsors such as John Cook himself, who provided generously for their conservation (Brendon 1991: 76). On the other, there was the idea of tourists paying a fee. In 1884 John Murray mentioned to the Director of the Office of Antiquities, Gaston Maspero, that he was “still desirous of doing everything I can to meet your views and to carry out the proposed arrangements of protecting the antiquities and charging the travelers a fee to cover expenses” (in

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Brendon 1991: 232). He added, however, that damage to monuments was also caused by the guardians themselves, as one of the common ways of indicating what they were pointing out was throwing stones and they often knocked off pieces to sell to visitors (ibidem). Monument deterioration was also related to the market for antiquities to be sold to tourists. Antiquities – and fakes – had been sold in Egypt from earlier in the nineteenth century. By 1898, the Baedeker guide warned that ‘half the population is engaged in traffic with antiquities, and the practice of fabricating scarabaei and other articles frequently found in tombs is by no means unknown to the other half’ (Baedeker 1898, 226 in Gregory 1999: 129). As the travel writer Douglas Sladen explained in his book Egypt and the English: The discordant note came from a row of curio-sellers attired in the bright blue galabeahs of the lower class, seated in front of the temple, and spreading on a stone bench mummy hawks, bits of mummy-cases, and a few other genuine antiques mixed with a plentiful supply of sham scarabs, sham wooden images, sham idols, sham pottery, cheap beads and hippopotamus-hide riding-whips. These men would be amusing if they did not interrupt you while you are forming your impressions of the temples and scenes you have come so far to see. They touch you or place themselves in your line of sight incessantly to ask you if you will give a pound for some sham scarab or idol. Beware of trying to get rid of them by offering them an insulting sum for their treasures, or you will find yourself laden with articles for which they demanded a sovereign a piece, and you rashly offered them a small piaster. But some of the sham antiques, especially the bright blue pottery, are charmingly pretty as ornaments, and well worth the few piasters for which they will sell them when they see that you know they are not genuine. (Sladen 1908:471)

By the end of the nineteenth century most major Egyptian sites had been ‘cleaned up and fenced in’, and an entry ticket was requested (Sladen 1911: 332 in Gregory 1999: 134). The affluence of tourists also fostered the preparation of the sites for them. In the early years of the twentieth century Douglas Sladen described in this way his experience visiting the Tombs of the Kings at Thebes: they are among the most wonderful things that I have ever seen. The most splendid of them are open to the public, and can be seen with ease, because they are lit up throughout with the electric light, and are provided with handrails and wooden steps in all slippery and perilous places. They are as dry as bones, and the only inconvenience from which anyone suffers in visiting them is the great heat. (Sladen 1908: 474–475).

As seen in this passage, the old way of illuminating monuments with candles or magnesium flares had been replaced, at least in some of the Egyptian tombs, by artificial illumination. In the tomb of Seti I, Sladen explained that “the electric light is made to play on it like the limelight of a theatre” (Sladen 1908: 476). Comparisons were made between the illumination of sites at night in Rome and Egypt, and he commented that “the temples of Egypt are actually more beautiful by moonlight than the temples of Rome” (Sladen 1908: 489), and he further expounded: The temples of Egypt create in us a feeling akin to that which dominates us when we are in the Cathedral of Chartres or the Basilica of St. Mark’s at Venice. Moonlight brings out one special charm of the sanctuary of Karnak: you are surrounded by the mightiest masses of stone ever employed in human architecture, but your feet, as you walk between them, tread

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4  Promoting the National Past. Archaeology and Tourism in the Late Nineteenth… restfully in sand as soft as velvet. You feel it more when you cannot see it: it is only at night, when there are no workmen’s voices, no sounds of straining rope and chipping stone, that you know you cannot hear your own footsteps in the halls of Karnak. We turned into the little Temple of the Third Rameses: we passed up the moonlit court, with giant Osiris, brought to life by the moonlight, waiting like a guard of honor for us to pass between them. The shrine was not quite full of darkness, because it had, high under the roof, the grated windows of Karnak. (Sladen 1908: 490).

As the infrastructure was less than ideal in Egypt, especially outside Cairo, both old and newly-emerged tour operators built hotels. Thus, Thomas Cook built the Luxor Hotel in 1877 (Reid 2002: 86) and years later the company opened the Hatasoo Chalet at Deir-el Bahri to accommodate visitors to the Hatshepsut Temple (t3.wy projects n.y) (Fig. 4.4). Not everybody was happy about these new establishments. The French novelist Pierre Loti complained of the untimely implantation of hotels in the vicinity of the pyramids, and of the conspicuous affluence of the tourists in 1907 (in Choay 2001:115). Regarding meals, these were often taken at the sites themselves, as we can see in Gregory (1999: Fig. 4.4), sometimes as a picnic and sometimes at food stalls. Once many Egyptian sites had been “processed” for tourism and in a way, therefore, cleansed and devoid of romanticism, interest in Egyptian antiquities seems to have waned somewhat in the early years of the twentieth century. Journalist Sydney

Fig. 4.4  Cook’s rest house, Egypt (Source: Thomas Cook Archives)

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Low skeptically suggested in 1914 “that the modern tourist, as a general rule, takes the antiquities too seriously”. Most “provide themselves with the volumes of Baedeker, Murray, or Flinders Petrie, and begin with an honest endeavor to assimilate those improving works.” But after a while their interest wanes; they were, after all, “in holiday mood, entirely resolved to enjoy themselves” (Low in Gregory 1999: 138). In his opinion people wanted something that they were not getting any more: “the Egypt of Messrs Cook, the Egypt of the hotels and the palace steamers, the Egypt of the dragoman and the donkey-boy, the Egypt which dines and dances and holds gymkhanas, the Egypt which enables the Northern sojourner to bask and play in the sun—that they most keenly appreciate” (Low 1914, 144 in Gregory 1999: 139). It is not very frequent to have information about what people in the country receiving tourists thought about them. In Egypt we have a rare document of from the writer and political journalist Muhammad al-Muwaylihi (1868-1930), who mentioned that tourists regard Oriental people with utter contempt… When they travel to the East, they can be divided into two categories. The first consists of the leisure classes with modern ideas who are besotted by their own wealth and amused by novelties of civilization. As far as they’re concerned, there’s nothing left to do… They’re beset by the twin diseases of listlessness and boredom. They wander around on their own from one area and country to another… The second group consists of scholars, politicians, imperialists and spies, who use their knowledge and ideas to occupy and control countries … and crowd folk out of their land and homes. They’re the precursors of destruction, even more deadly to people at peace than the vanguards of armies in wartime (in Reid 2002: 64).

Going beyond Italy, Greece and Egypt As seen in Chap. 3, before the 1870s in the old world the reach of tourists was limited to Western Europe, the classical lands and Egypt, while all those beyond were the province of travelers. The latter was indeed the case of Mesopotamia (Kuklick 1996; Scheffler 1998). Geographical horizons, however, expanded in the ensuing decades. In 1867, the social reformer and clergyman Henry Ward Beecher organized a ‘pleasure trip’ to Palestine. Only two years later, John Cook led his first party of ten travelers through the Holy Land and Egypt and from then on, the tourist trade to Palestine grew steadily, mainly through Cook’s efforts. The Reverend James Neil, a British missionary in Palestine, explained that: There are two well-known conductors of traveling parties in England, Mr. Cook and Mr. Gaze, and one in Germany. The first of these repeats his visits four times during a single season, and in that of 1874 made arrangements for no less than 270 visitors to the Holy Land. Such is the number of Germans who flock to the country… American visitors, though they have to come three thousand miles further than others, are, to their credit be it said, the most numerous, and after them our countrymen furnish by far the largest contingent. This is, of course, excepting the Russian pilgrims, members of the Greek Church, who now, together with crowds from the neighboring countries, representatives of the Greek, Armenian, Syrian, Coptic, and almost all Oriental Churches, come up every year by thousands. (in Kark 2001)

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The available tourist guidebooks included those of Murray (1858), Joanne (1861), Cook (1876) and Baedeker (1876), all of them with several later editions in the period dealt with in this chapter. The Thomas Cook company, for example, published guidebooks to Palestine and Syria in 1876 and 1907. Despite the impression given in the quotation above that most tourists came to the Near East for religious reasons, in fact, the guidebooks also gave much information about antiquities. Not all the advice given would be welcomed today: in Murray’s 1868 edition tourists were recommended to excavate “artificial mounds … [and in] the sites of Tyre, Sidon, Gebal, and Aradus, as far as practicable, [searching] for remains of Phoenician art and inscriptions”… and to dig “and examine the subterranean tombs of Palmyra and copy the Palmyrene inscriptions” (Porter 1868: xlix). The lack of hotels in some parts led Thomas Cook to build them, such as the one near Petra (Jordan), to make visiting the site feasible (Hussein Mustafa and Tayeh 2011: 89). In other cases, camps were organized, as was the case at Baalbek in the Lebanon (Fig. 4.5). Regarding North Africa, French travelers traversed it during the early nineteenth century. In Algeria, a French colony since 1833, the first handbook was produced by the Joanne guides in 1860 (Piesse 1860) and already included plenty of information about Roman antiquities. This was followed by other editions and more specialized guidebooks (for example, Bel 1908). In neighboring Tunisia, a country that became a French colony in 1881, the holding of the Congress for the Advancement of

Fig. 4.5  Cook camp at Baalbek in 1902 (Source: Thomas Cook Archives)

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Fig. 4.6 Postcard showing the garden and Museum of Lavigerie. Carthage (Source: Wikimedia Commons)

Sciences at Carthage in 1896 fostered the appearance of archaeological tourism. By then the Alaoui Museum in Le Bardo had been established in 1882 and opened in 1888 (Bacha 2009: 156) and even before that in 1875 Father Alfred Louis Delattre (1850-1932) had founded the Musée Lavigerie de Saint-Louis de Carthage (Fig. 4.6). Expecting a large number of visitors to the congress, the need was felt to prepare several sites to be visited, including the medinas of Tunis and Kairouan and the archaeological sites of Carthage and Dugga. Regarding the latter, it was thought that “the simple tourist, as well as the archaeologist, should not miss it” and this led to the investment of 20,000 francs by the local authorities (Bacha 2009: 158). If funding for archaeology had been considered a luxury until then, now the official discourse was that The funds allocated to archaeology cannot be considered as a sumptuary expense too heavy for a new country. New country? No doubt, but also very old country which, for 3000 years, has played an important role on the world stage. It is especially today a poor country which in order to be reborn, needs to attract to him a lot of capital and especially that of tourism. (Le Figaro, free supplement about Tunisia, 15 April 1903, quoted in Bacha 2009: 160)).

Probably in connection with the congress, Delattre decided to publish two tourist guidebooks, one about the museum (Delattre 1893) and the other about the ­archaeological site of Carthage (Delattre 1895). In the latter he included three itineraries that took in other monuments and sites of natural beauty in the neighboring area. The funds collected from scholars and tourists became a way of sponsoring his excavations (Bacha 2009: 159).

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In Tunisia contracts for hotels were signed in 1899 and, soon after, the first tourist organization, the Commité d’Hivernage (Wintering Committee), was established. In Algeria at the start of the twentieth century the Department of Historical Monuments promoted the distribution of many postcards featuring restored monuments and ruins (Oulebsir 2004: 211). A publication on the recent discoveries at the Roman site of Timgad offered color photographs for the first time (Ballu 1911). The publishers, the Neurdein brothers, explained that they had used a combination of the trichromatic and “Autochromes Lumiere plates” processes, a comment they addressed to archaeologists, project managers, explorers and tourists (Oulebsir 2004: 205). During these years the plans for developing tourism in Tunisia included the use of the journal of the Touring Club. Grand tourism in Algeria and Tunisia, a photographic album, was also published presenting the most important archaeological discoveries and sites, the Islamic heritage and the natural sites of Tunisia (TCF 1910). More than ten thousand copies were printed in French, English and German and posters were also distributed around the world (Bacha 2009: 162). Archaeological tourism also saw some development in Asia. There antiquities had been studied, mainly by European savants, since the eighteenth century and some museums, such as the Batavian Society’s museum in Dutch Indonesia, had already been opened. In the period under study new museums were opened, including, in 1874, the Curzon Museum of Archaeology at Mathura (India), which displayed the archaeological relics of the ancient ruins. Only twenty years later, in 1892, a similar institution was opened at Bijapur, also in India (Sarma 1998). At the end of the nineteenth century, tourism also arrived in the French colonies of Asia. Thus, in parallel to the founding of the Angkor Society for the Conservation of Ancient Monuments of Indochina in Paris in 1907 and the beginning of the first restoration work at the sites, it was noted that tourists were arriving to visit them. From October to December 1907, two hundred visitors were reported at Angkor (Le Brusq 2007: 101).

Latin America as a Tourist Destination In Latin America, Mexico and part of Guatemala became the only countries covered by tourist guidebooks during this period. Among the earliest was the Alfred Conkling’s Appleton’s Guide to Mexico. Including a chapter on Guatemala, the first edition of which was published in 1883. It mentioned that Tourists, who are not especially interested in Mexican archaeology, are recommended to confine themselves to visiting the ruins of Mitla, Cholula, and San Juan Teotihuacan. The former will soon be within twenty miles of a line of railway, and the other places are within an hour’s walk of it (Conkling 1891: 49).

A succinct description of the Museum of Archaeology in Mexico City was provided in this guidebook and we learn from it that a small catalogue in Spanish was sold at the entrance (Conkling 1891: 185–187). It is unclear what this referred to, as the first catalogue that scholars mention today was published a few years later, in 1896, by the prestigious Mexican scholar, Jesús Galindo y Villa (Galindo y Villa 1896).

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Fig. 4.7  Ancient Peruvian burial ground. (Source: Hubert H. Bancroft. The Book of the Fair (in Schuster 2018: Fig. 5))

Other tourist guidebooks published in English at the time mentioned some antiquities (Ober 1884: 22; Barrett 1902-03: 78–88, 183–186, 179; Hale 1909; Riedel 1892), the latter being the most prolific in descriptions. There were also guidebooks in Spanish (Cardona 1892, see Villalobos Acosta 2014). Information about the antiquities of Mexico received a boost at the Chicago exhibition of 1893, a fair attended by between 12 and 16  million visitors (Graff 2011a: 222). One of the twelve sections was devoted to “Ethnology, Archaeology” (Graff 2011a: 224) and in it, in addition to much North American archaeological material on display at the exhibition (Fogelson 1991), life-sized models of architecture from the Mayan sites of Labna and Uxmal were erected (Fane 1993; Hinsley 1996: 130–132) and an ancient Peruvian cemetery was reconstructed (Schuster 2018) (Fig. 4.7). Other parts of Hispanic America remained practically untouched by tourism. In Peru, for example, travel and living accounts were still dominant (Hernández Asensio 2012). Examples of these came from France (Wiener 1880), Germany (Middendof 1893–95) and England (Enock 1907).

Visiting Antiquities in the Home Country Enjoying leisure time abroad was the province of the upper middle classes and those even higher up the social ladder. The lower middle and working classes could only afford shorter trips. As seen in Chap. 3, changes in legislation in the 1830s and

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1840s led to a large rise in the number of museums opened to the public, a trend that became more marked in the last quarter of the century in relation to the growing influence of nationalism as a political ideology. National, regional, and local museums increasingly housed historical displays that included archaeological objects. In the large museums, the collections became more specialized, and sometimes that meant creating new departments or even subdividing the institution into two. An example of the latter was the British Museum, which had its natural history collections of fossils and stuffed animals moved to a new institution in South Kensington in the early 1880s (Rankine 1993: 82). Private museums were also set up. One example of this is the museum at the Roman cemetery of Carmona in Spain organized in 1885 by Juan Fernández López, a local pharmacist, and George E. Bonsor, a French-British artist resident in Spain (Ruiz Cecilia et al. 2011: 10). A fee was charged to enter the site and the proceeds were used to pay the wages of the guards of both the site and the museum and also to finance educational grants for the town’s brightest children from poor families (Gómez Díaz 2006; Ruiz Cecilia et al. 2011: 26) (Fig. 4.8). However, the low visitor numbers – about 300 a year for the first seventy years (Rodríguez Temiño et al. 2015: 266) – make it unlikely that this was achieved.

Fig. 4.8  The tomb of the elephant in the Roman cemetery of Carmona around 1886 already prepared for visitors (Archivo General de Andalucía, Fondo Jorge Bonsor, photo 7632)

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At the same time than the Carmona museum, Pitt Rivers was organizing a museum on his Dorset estate at Farnham, England (Bowden 1991: 141–150), which opened in 1888. Pitt Rivers had inherited a huge fortune and therefore could afford to set up more than the museum. As he explained in 1891, it was “to the larger and smaller tradesmen in the towns and villages that such things as museums appeal, and, moreover, they must be supplemented by other inducements to make them attractive” (Pitt Rivers 1891). This moved him to design recreational grounds next to the museum, and in them he organised for bands to play (Pitt Rivers 1891). He also set up an infrastructure around his museum, fitting out the nearby King John’s House for visitors’ luncheons and other refreshments, as well as a small Museum Hotel (Pitt Rivers 1891). The tourist package was completed by a small guidebook to all these places sold at the low price of one shilling (Pitt Rivers 1894). In Pitt Rivers it is possible to observe the seeds of something that is common in our time: with his conservative mind he alluded to the effectiveness of his museum on the basis of the number of visitors it attracted. As he proudly mentioned: “in the town of Dorchester, in which there is a museum equal in size to mine, and scarcely less attractive, I found that the attendance was only 2826 during the year 1888, as against 7000 at my museum in 1891” (Pitt Rivers 1891). Pitt Rivers’ actions were sustained by a conservative ideology under which members of the lower middle and working classes would be distanced from ­revolutionary ideas if they were educated and adequately entertained. For this he suggested that I hold that the great desideratum of our day is an educational museum, in which the visitors may instruct themselves… For an educational museum originals are not necessary. Casts, reproductions, and models are preferable… The outing is in itself an important accessory in a visit to a country museum. A pretty country, a pleasant drive in their country carts, an attractive pleasure ground, a good band, and lastly a museum, are the means which I have found successful, and which I am justified in recommending to those who wish to draw the people out of the towns into the country (Pitt Rivers 1891).

In his role as Inspector of Monuments (from 1892), in 1897 Pitt Rivers compiled a list of ancient monuments in the Baedeker handbook (Baedeker 1897). In addition to the better-known guides many others were issued during this period, usually with a local purpose. One of them was Picnic: the Illustrated Guide to Ilfracombe and North Devon (Turner 1890), a tourist guide providing information not only about trains, steamers and hotels, but also about places to visit, including the medieval parish church and other nearby churches and buildings of interest (in Brooks 1998: 17). There were two important, complementary elements in local tourism: nationalism and the creation of associations. The former was discussed extensively in Chap. 3 and it continued to be important in the final decades of the nineteenth century. An example of this is the conversion of the town of Haugesund into a tourist attraction in the millennial celebrations held there in 1872 in honor of the Viking hero Harald Fairhair. This event attracted 20,000 visitors to a town with a population of 4000 and many souvenirs were produced for that day (Guttormsen 2017: 50–51). As regards learned societies, with their growing number, associations could take on very differ-

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ent natures. Among them, those focusing on excursions were of great importance as driving forces behind the acceptance of archaeology in the increasingly large sectors of society who wanted to spend their leisure time visiting archaeological sites. In Italy, for example, one of these excursion societies organized a trip to visit the rock art of the Vallée des Merveilles in 1877 (Arcà 2013) and in Catalonia they played a notable role in raising popular awareness of archaeological heritage (Genera 2008; Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016). Their interest was clearly linked to a growing nationalist sentiment. Thus, Josep Gudiol, one of the leaders of the Catalan Centre for Excursions (Centre Excursionista de Catalunya), stated in 1902, that Catalans “should not take hiking as an end, but as a means to achieve something as important as the knowledge of the homeland” (Gudiol 1902: 90). Archaeology was giving a great service, as it was thanks to this science that the first pages of Catalan history could be written. He continued by saying that “monuments will always cry out against treaties and impositions, they must guide us to work so that what is not right is over. They must be more eloquent to us than false frontiers and show us where the limits of our secular home and heritage  actually lie” (Gudiol 1902: 93). In addition to the excursion societies there were other associations closer to archaeology, such as the antiquarian societies. They also arranged trips to visit archaeological sites, such as those of the Kilkenny Archaeological Society (McEwan 2003: Chap. 3). Associations that had less direct connections with the past, such as those of photography enthusiasts, also became linked to archaeology by documenting the ancient monuments of the country (see Edwards (2006) for the case of England). There were societies directly connected to tourism, such as the Touring-­ Club de France (TCF) founded in 1891 with the aim of popularizing all forms of tourism by car. It had a Committee of Sites and Picturesque Monuments that included visits to archaeological sites in its activities (Bacha 2009: 160–161). It is rare to find studies focusing on tourist attention to particular archaeological sites, but Stonehenge in Britain and Ampurias in Spain are exceptions. It was in 1878 that the earliest known visit to Stonehenge was made by a large party of people interested in learning about the site. They came from the town of Market Lavington in Wiltshire (England) on 29 May 1878. At a speed of four miles an hour, the ‘Little Express’ traction steam engine transported the villagers the 14 miles to the site, a trip that took them the whole day (Richards 2005: 18). A very different type of visit was that undertaken by Queen Victoria’s youngest son, Prince Leopold, who around 1880 picnicked there with his party (Richards 2005: 19), just months before the site was included in the first Schedule of English Monuments. The image of Stonehenge had become popular; in 1893 Pitt Rivers commented that The stones are to some extent in the charge of a photographer, who lives at Shrewton… He lives by selling photographs to visitors and this may to some extent perhaps, disqualify him from keeping them in proper order (in Richards 2005: 23).

He also warned about the effect that visitors were having on the site. There was graffiti and the remains of picnics attracted rats, mice and rabbits that then burrowed underneath the stones, endangering their stability. Unfortunately his predictions

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Fig. 4.9  The Magpie Musicians, a traveling musical troupe, visit Stonehenge. First published in the Sketch in 1896. Photo taken by James Russell & Sons of London (Pitts 2012)

were proved right in 1900, the year when a sarsen upright with its lintel fell, breaking the latter in two. The owner decided to build a fence around the monument and charge admission and five months later, 3770 visitors had paid the one shilling entrance fee, showing the profitability of the business (Richards 2005: 27–28). A year later there was a protest against the fencing and admission charges at Stonehenge (Fig. 4.9) (Pitts 2016). Yet, access restrictions continued and a turnstile was installed at the gate1 (Fig. 4.10). Only a few years later, in 1905, the first Druid celebration took place there, with nearly a thousand individuals attending (Richards 2005: 32). These ceremonies continued in the following years. The site was taking on an alternative meaning to that of antiquity (Stout 2008), despite the fact that a few years later archaeologists demonstrated that there was no basis for the Druids’ claims of a historical connection (Kendrick 1927). A few years after Stonehenge became popular, Ampurias, the ancient Greek colony of Emporion on the north-eastern coast of Spain that was later transformed into a Roman town, became a frequently-visited archaeological site. It also became a symbol of early-twentieth-century Catalan nationalism, with its excavation led by one of the political leaders at the time, Prat de la Riba, from 1908. By 1909, the site had received at least one visit from a group of more than a hundred excursionists. They reached the site by steamer on a three-day trip organized by the Society for Maritime Tourism (Fig. 4.11). A year later, another fieldtrip with six hundred participants was arranged by a working-class society, the Popular Encyclopaedic  Pompeii already had a turnstile gate in 1887 (Baedeker 1887: 126).

1

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Fig. 4.10  New pay turnstile at Stonehenge in 1936 (Pitts 2016)

Fig. 4.11  Steamer carrying tourists on a three-day trip to visit Ampurias in 1909 (© Arxiu Fotogràfic Centre Excursionista de Catalunya)

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Ateneum. The success of the site led to the organization of a first, but short-lived museum opened in 1910. In 1911, the results of the excavations were disseminated in a documentary film entitled “Excursion to the Ruins of Ampurias” (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 388). The first tourist guidebook was published 2 years later (Cazurro Ruiz 1913) and in it the hotels and restaurants of the local town of L’Escala were advertised (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016). In the United States the absence of ancient monuments in the territory led to the development of an alternative taste for spectacular landscapes. As seen in Chap. 3, this began with Niagara Falls in the 1830s (Sears 1989) and Yosemite Park in the 1850s (Löfgren 1999: 39, 57), although the protection of these landscapes was only introduced in the period dealt with in this chapter: Yosemite in 1864 and Yellowstone in 1872, in the latter case with the creation of the first National Park2. In the case of Yellowstone, annual visitor numbers were small at first, just 300, but ten years later this had risen to a thousand. Transport for visitors was on horseback and once in the park no facilities were provided. Staying in the park was not cheap, as camping gear was still expensive and there were no hotels, although managed tent camps brought the prices down (Löfgren 1999: 57). Given their non-monumental nature, archaeological sites in these places were simply disregarded. It was not until the end of the nineteenth century that something approaching archaeological tourism developed in the United States. The Chicago Exhibition of 1893 not only had a display of Mayan sites, as mentioned earlier in the chapter, but also a Cliff Dwellers exhibit consisting of the reproduction of a Hopi archaeological site from south-west Colorado (Fogelson 1991; Graff 2011b: 151; Hinsley 1996). A few years later, in 1906, the Anasazi Cliff Dwellings of Manitou Springs were built in an area near Colorado Springs, about 350 miles from the actual Anasazi areas of Mesa Verde and Chaco Canyon. The buildings erected in Colorado were imitations of sites that were at least five centuries old (Lovata 2011: 197). Easy access to the tourist attraction  – overcoming the inaccessibility of the actual archaeological ruins – ensured its attractiveness to the public, who did not seem to mind whether the site was authentic or not. Sites like this fostered a recreated image of the American Indian characterized by exoticism and atemporality (Lovata 2011: 200).

Conclusions From 1870 to the early years of the twentieth century, the trends already highlighted in Chap. 3 became more pronounced: the elite that had exclusively dominated the market a century earlier were now accompanied by a larger number of members of the middle classes who were traveling and visiting archaeological sites. Moreover, for the first time, the working classes had access to leisure time and, to a limited

2  Other countries followed suit: Canada (1885), Australia (1886), New Zealand (1894) South Africa (1898), Argentina (1901), Sweden (1909), Switzerland (1914).

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extent, also participated in archaeological tourism, albeit only in their local areas. Social changes also had a gender correlate, as in this period the first women started to travel on their own. The power of the middle classes was reflected in the large number of learned societies established in this period and they began to show some specialization in terms of their remit. Many of them had links to archaeology and with their organized talks and excursions they further supported archaeological tourism. Tourism created gates, entrance fees, jobs, new museums, hotels and restaurants in a growing area that moved from Italy to Egypt and North Africa and began to trickle down to areas far from the imperial centers, such as India and Mexico. The growing demand for tourism led to an expansion in the areas covered by guidebooks, in which archaeological sites and monuments attracted the most attention. Archaeologists were active participants in the industry as authors, both in the major publishing houses and in writing some of the more specialized guides, sometimes as a way of funding archaeological excavations. Images produced first by drawings and engravings and later by photography created pictorial regimes that registered the tourist experience in novel and increasingly inexpensive ways. New technologies supported these transformations, with transport and photography being the key elements in this change. The continuing expansion of the rail and steamer networks shortened the time needed for travel and made it more affordable for a wider sector of the population. New technologies in lighting were also used to illuminate archaeological sites, including the Egyptian tombs, where electricity was installed. Tourism also gave rise to the appearance of postcards. Picture postcards had begun to circulate in the 1870s (with photographs only from 1889) and from the outset one of the illustration categories favored by buyers was that of “monuments” (Selwyn 1996). The large numbers that were sent is a clear sign of their popularity. In Sweden, for example, a population of about five million people mailed over forty-eight million postcards in 1904 (Löfgren 1999: 77). Archaeological sites were embracing consumerism. For the first time, tourism had also started to produce large masses of visitors, turning the once idyllic nocturnal visit to the Colosseum in Rome into something of a nightmare. The industry of entrance fees and postcards, of guidebooks and transportation, as well as restaurants and hotels opened to meet the basic needs of visitors, all started to change the nature of ancient sites, which now became money-making enterprises. Counting visitors even started at this time, as we can see from Pitt Rivers’ comparison of his museum and that of Dorchester. In order to increase the allure to potential visitors, reconstructions became common, as seen at Knossos, Miletus and Delphi. Increasing tourist numbers also led to the development of a souvenir industry that, to begin with, competed with sales of actual antiquities, as well as fakes. Archaeological sites also began to be used for purposes other than historical education. Roman theaters and amphitheaters, for example, became arenas for plays, as seen in Pompeii in 1884. Not much is known about what the local people thought about the visitors, except for the comments from Egypt mentioned above. However, we know that the upper

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and middle classes of the societies in the tourist destinations also began to develop a taste for travel, as shown by the opening of travel agencies in countries such as Italy in 1878 (Pivato 2006: 25). Other countries, such as Argentina, would have to wait until the following period to flourish (Scarzanella 2002). In the years dealt with in this chapter, tourism was already proving to be a growing economic force, a growth that affected archaeology. As we will see in Chap. 5, this trend continued in the following decades up to World War II.

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Chapter 5

Archaeological Tourism From the Great War to the End of World War II

Introduction As seen in previous chapters, the transformation of tourism over time cannot be separated from the technological, social, economic and political context of the era. The period discussed in the following pages is another good example of this. On the one hand, with its ups and downs and sometimes in surprising ways (as after a major crisis such as Black Tuesday in 1929), economics marked the way in which an increasing number of people gained access to leisure in places increasingly distanced from their hometowns. On the other hand, events from the turn of the century were profoundly affected by politics, especially after World War I and up to the end of World War II. These were the years to which the historian Eric Hobsbawm dated the apogee of nationalism (Hobsbawm 1992: Chap. 5). In the decade prior to World War I, it is already easy to see some indications of the key importance this ideology would attain in politics. There are two major reasons for the strengthening after the Great War of the marked trends appearing in the early twentieth century. The first was that internationalist ideologies had not prevented workers from engaging in the Great War and fighting for their own countries against men of their own class and this strengthened nationalism. Secondly, a deeply-felt fear of the Russian revolution and the possible influence it could exert on other countries instigated a rise in right-­ wing populism. The new Russia was looked at with great wariness as a possible future imperial power (as eventually occurred with the emergence of the USSR in 1922). In this context, US president Wilson, one of the main actors in the peace agreements, opted for the use of nationalism as a criterion to redefine the political map of Europe in the peace agreements (Hobsbawm 1992: 132–133). The need for nations to have a past – a past to be known by all by means of schooling and tourism – came together with the broadening of the social base with access to free time. The middle classes and, to a certain extent, workers had gained greater rights to leisure in the previous period (see Chap. 4) and the increase in holidays and

© The Author(s), under exclusive licence to Springer Nature Switzerland AG 2019 M. Díaz-Andreu, A History of Archaeological Tourism, SpringerBriefs in Archaeology, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-32077-5_5

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n­ ationalism were behind the marked growth in the importance of tourism in the early and middle decades of the twentieth century, as well as a new emphasis on its management and a growth in tourist attractions opening to the public, some of which included archaeological remains.

The Growth of a Giant: Tourism in the Interwar Years The Extended “Happy 1920s” After World War I, tourism underwent unprecedented growth that has continued over the decades to make it the largest industry in the world in market share. New to the interwar period was an awareness of the economic potential tourism was beginning to have. This explains the establishment in 1925 of the International Congress of Official Tourist Traffic Associations (ICOTT) (today’s United Nations World Tourism Organization, WTO). ICOTT was composed of a series of national agencies such as the French Union Nationale des Associations de Tourisme (UNAT) of 1920 (Caire 2012: 75), the Comisaría Regia de Turismo y la Cultura Artística of 1911 (Moreno Garrido 2007: 72) and the precursor of the British Tourist Authority, finally set up in 1929 (Brendon 1991: 261). Several factors of a very different nature influenced the expansion of tourism in the interwar period: politics, the increasing imposition of holiday time for workers, the appearance of new means of transport and, especially from the 1930s, a new way of regarding leisure tourism after World War I developed in a climate of an intense nationalist upsurge. The Great War had clearly shown the failure of the internationalist ideologies propounded by Marxism. The workers of each country supported nationalism by fighting for their own nation and not for the common cause of the proletariat. Moreover, support for nationalism grew as a result of it being used as a criterion to redefine the political map of Europe in the peace agreements (Hobsbawm 1992). However, nationalism was no longer a unifying force – as it had been in the case of Italy and Germany in the 1870s – but an ideology often used to argue for the separation of states into different independent nations. In this context, tourism gave character to the nation and archaeology delivered the essential past needed for its existence. Archaeological sites were prepared more than ever before for public visits, marketing their significance in history by selecting particular historical events and meanings that engaged in the legitimation of each nation, thus underpinning national identity. Archaeological sites reinforced their role as the nation’s preeminent tourist attractions. Tourism has been listed as a mechanism of incorporation, i.e. a method for the recreation of the nation as a cohesive unit, together with the establishment of national markets, the creation of networks for national media and transportation and the advance towards a strong national state (Shaffer 2001: 177). This was the framework in which government offices dealing with tourism emerged everywhere in the

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Western world (for examples see Moreno Garrido 2007: 72; Shaffer 2001: 158 for Spain and the USA). Sites were reconstructed, regulated and made available to the public, for whom a visit became a national duty. This can be illustrated by Robert Stirling Yard, one of the main promoters of the National Park Service, who wrote with pride that Every person living in the United States ought to know much about these eight national parks and ought to visit them when possible, for, considered together, they contain more features of conspicuous grandeur than are readily accessible in all the rest of the world together (Yard 1916: 3, added emphasis).

During World War I, the slogan “See America First” was helped by the impossibility of traveling to Europe. This not only benefitted domestic tourism (Shaffer 2001), but also fostered its development in Latin American countries. By the end of the decade, tourism had been soundly integrated into middle-class cultural practices (Berkowitz 2001: 187). In Europe a similar nationalistic trend took place as soon as the middle classes began to recover from the effects of World War I. In the 1930s, a member of staff of the Swedish Tourist Association criticized the late-nineteenth-­ century obsession with the unique and picturesque. Instead, he maintained that “Know your country”, the slogan in use at that time in Sweden, should encompass a willingness to get to know it in its entirety. He wrote this while on a bicycle tour of the whole of Sweden (Löfgren 2001: 146). Even in Russia vacationing took off and was supported by the establishment of the Proletarian Tourism Society in 1929 (renamed the Civil Society of the Soviet Union of Proletarian Tourism and Excursions the following year) (Prokopenko and Mazón Martínez 2014: 31). Another factor influencing tourism from the early years of the century until World War II was the advance in transport. Automobiles had first been commercialized in 1908 with the Ford Model T, an affordable car for middle-class Americans. By 1927, more than 15 million cars had been built and by then they could count on an indispensable road network (Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 41). The love for them in the US led to the emergence by the 1920s of caravan tourism, a way of touring that would only spread to Europe after World War II (Löfgren 2001: 146). On the old continent, a more modest means of transport also became popular, the bicycle, a well-loved means of transport, especially in Italy (Pivato 2006) and the Scandinavian nations (Löfgren 2001: 146). In the latter region, the new youth hostels developed from 1933 became widely used (Löfgren 2001: 146). Finally, following the example of the first regular flight that had covered the Berlin-Leipzig-Weimar route in 1903, in 1927 it was the turn of the intercontinental routes, beginning with a first non-stop trip between New York and Germany (Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: 42). After some early use of aviation in the 1920s (see comments about Indochina below), this mode of transport became fully developed in the 1930s with flights to tourist destinations such as Bermuda and Acapulco and also from 1939 to European destinations such as Nice (Turner and Ash 1975: Chap. 6). This growth increased exponentially after World War II. Archaeological and cultural tourism had probably been the main reason for travel up until the Great War, but in the 1920s it had to compete with a powerful a­ lternative:

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sun tourism. Holidays during the summer period became fashionable in places such as the French Riviera. That area had been a winter refuge for the European aristocracy, but in the 1920s it also developed into a summer destination. Coming mainly from areas in the US where the climate is similar to the Mediterranean, it attracted wealthy Americans who wanted to feel at home. Together with sunny climates came the fashion of being tanned and sunbathing became equivalent of a healthy life style. It was then that the “sun, sea, sand, sex and spirits” vacation was invented (Löfgren 1999: 130: 173; Turner and Ash 1975: Chap. 5).

 lack Tuesday and World War II: Two Debacles with Different B Consequences Surprisingly, Black Tuesday, or the Wall Street Stock Market Crash of 1929, did not have the devastating effect on tourism that one would intuitively have expected. On the contrary, instead of leading to a total collapse of tourism activities, it encouraged them thanks to new legislation on paid vacations and the appearance of increasingly sophisticated and aggressive promotional campaigns for tourism (Berkowitz 2001). In a desire to promote social harmony in the workplace by reducing conflict and to help dissuade workers from organizing trade unions, as well as to stimulate the economy with consumption, during the New Deal both government officials and business leaders supported vacationing and tourism (Berkowitz 2001: 187 203). This largely included the working classes, although those carrying out physical labor were deemed to have less-demanding jobs and therefore deserved less vacation time (Berkowitz 2001: 189). By the mid-1930s vacations with pay were received by over 25 million workers, and about 60 million Americans took at least a week’s vacation away from home where as five million worked in the tourist industry in the early 1940s (Berkowitz 2001: 187 205–206). Tourism was also seen as a way of promoting regional development (Berkowitz 2001: 204). The paid vacation also arrived in Europe and beyond. In 1938, the new statutory two-week holiday was introduced in Sweden (Löfgren 1999: 130, 147). The movement for paid vacations in Europe resulted in the Holidays with Pay Convention of that year, a document that began by stating that “Every person to whom this convention applies shall be entitled after one year of continuous service to an annual holiday with pay of at least six working days”. Proposed by the Labor Office in Geneva, this convention reflected a trend that was becoming accepted at the time, although it still took years to be implemented in all European countries, partly because of the interruption of World War II (Minnaert et al. 2012: 25). Its implementation was also connected to Article 24 of the United Nations Universal Declaration of Human Rights of 1948, which stated that “everyone has the right to rest and leisure, including reasonable limitation of working hours and periodic holidays with pay”. The idea of a nation as a community of citizens doing communal activities such as sports, singing and traveling, i.e. during their leisure time, was promoted in the

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1930s, and tourism was naturally added to this package (Löfgren 2001: 148). Thus, in the manifesto for the first Swedish exhibition of leisure and tourism in 1936, the following could be read: If the people are unable to fill up their leisure hours in such a way that they derive health and pleasure from them, then it is for the community to help them by advice and action, giving them the possibility of spending their leisure time in a richer, finer and more profitable manner. The leisure time in this way becomes a concern of the community with an importance as great as that of working time. (in Löfgren 2001: 150)

In 1937, President Roosevelt encouraged a “Travel America Year” campaign and four years later the slogan of the United States Travel Bureau (USTB) said it all: “Travel strengthens America. It promotes the nation’s health, wealth, and unity” (Duchemin 2016). Having been converted into a common good, in some countries the public authorities even began to subsidize tourism in general by setting up offices, travel subsidies, etc. They also reached out to the working classes through social tourism, i.e. tourism enabling the disadvantaged groups of society to take vacations they would otherwise have never been able to afford (Minnaert et al. 2012). This access to vacationing by wider sectors of society affected the choices of the most well-off. In France, for example, the promotion of paid vacations in the mid-1930s led to an invasion of the French Riviera by the middle-classes. This had a domino-effect on the better-off members of society, who then decided to move on to new destinations, such as Bali or, in the case of US citizens, Mexico – especially Acapulco – and Cuba (Turner and Ash 1975: Chap. 5). By the start of World War II, the tourism industry had grown to become one of the most important, on the same level as the automotive and oil industries. This increase was due to a large extent to state promotion of the business, mainly for economic and political reasons. How archaeological tourism was affected by this will be explored globally in the next section. The exception to this will be archaeological tourism in Italy and Germany, in which the involvement of the state in its promotion merits closer analysis that will be made in the last section of this chapter.

Archaeological Tourism Until 1945 Archaeological Tourism in Europe and Asia In the interwar apogee of nationalism, archaeological tourism saw a spectacular growth, under the auspices of both the state and private initiatives (the latter sometimes subsidized by the former). The state ensured a solid basis for archaeological tourism, not only by funding its inclusion in the university curriculum and providing a legal basis for archaeological practice, but also, and principally, by guaranteeing the preservation of monuments and the opening and running of museums, as well as by setting up state and provincial offices for the management of archaeology. In this

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context, the seizing of power by right-wing European dictatorships with an interest in the past demonstrated both the benefits and the dangers of state support for archaeology, as will be discussed in the next section that refers to Italy and Germany in the 1920s and 30s. In the years preceding the Great War and up to the end of World War II, Europe and the United States saw the definitive consolidation or, in most cases, the setting up of state offices to manage both archaeology and tourism. The processes that led the state to preserve and manage both the provision of permits for archaeological excavations (and sometimes their funding) and archaeological tourism were not fully independent from each other. Taking Spain as an example, between 1912 and 1934, the financial resources for archaeological excavations were decided by an institution set up for that purpose, the Higher Council for Excavations and Antiquities (Junta Superior de Excavaciones y Antigüedades, JSEA). One of its executive members also was the head of another newly-created institution, the Royal Commissariat for Tourism (Comisaría Regia de Turismo), the Marquis de la Vega-Inclán (Traver Tomas 1965). Of the approximately one hundred excavations given permits in those years, only five were favored with major funding: the Islamic palace of Medina Azahara (with 22.3% of the total amount between 1915 and 1934) and the Roman towns of Merida (17.6%), Italica (13.9%), Numantia (6.0%) and Sagunto (5.3%). Three other sites should be added to this list: the Alhambra and Ampurias, which received alternative sources of government funding, and Altamira, which was paid for by private initiative. With the exception of Altamira (whose uniqueness derived from its magnificent painted bisons), all these sites had a monumental nature and, without exception, they were open to tourists. The clear political interest in these sites can be seen in the political visits paid to them, such as that of the King Alfonso XII to Mérida in 1927 (Caballero Rodríguez 2008: 376; Díaz-Andreu 2016: 40). The official connection of tourism and archaeology can also be seen in the state tourist guidebooks produced by the Spanish Royal Commissariat for Tourism from 1911. Although most of these guidebooks focused on cities, an explanation of their past and their archaeological ruins was always included. A tourist guidebook was also produced for the Palaeolithic cave paintings of Altamira in 1928 (Fig. 5.1), a site that in those years became part of the nationalist narrative demonstrating Spanish genius since prehistory (Fatás Monforte 2011; Moreno Garrido 2010). A final connection between tourism and archaeology in Spain during those years refers to the role of archaeology in 1934 at the Saló de Turisme i dels Esports (Tourism and Sports Exhibition), a tourism fair at which the Museum of Archaeology of Barcelona had a stand (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 398). Data on how the evolution of archaeological tourism affected particular sites during this period are scarce, although there are two exceptions to this that have already been discussed in Chap. 4. They are the megalithic monument of Stonehenge in Britain and the Greco-Roman site of Ampurias in Catalonia (Spain) in the decades before World War I. In Spain, there is also some information on Carmona (Gómez Díaz 2018;  Rodríguez Temiño et  al. 2015: 277) and the Alhambra (Méndez Rodríguez et al. 2010). Visits to Ampurias began in 1913 and their immediate success led to the opening of a site museum, the publication of a first guidebook (Cazurro Ruiz 1913) and the building of a hotel on the beach next to the site entrance

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Fig. 5.1  Back and front cover of the first guidebook of Altamira. Written by Professor Hugo Obermaier it was published by the Spanish National Tourist Board in 1928

(Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 388–392, 395). Very soon it became the object of visits by many local associations and school groups1 (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 388–392, 392). Ampurias was also included in the organized excursions offered by the travel agencies, both international, such as Thomas Cook (in 1922), and local (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 396). In 1934, visits to Ampurias were also included in the “Workers’ Trips and Holidays” program funded by the Catalan regional administration. The excavator of the site – the Barcelona professor Bosch Gimpera – personally guided groups of up to 200 people around the site (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 396) (Fig. 5.2). A visit to Ampurias became part of the strategy to promote the Costa Brava coastline with a combination of heritage and sun and beach tourism (Munilla and Gracia Alonso 2016: 398).2 Over the years the site was further improved for visitors with signage and leaflets. A more comprehen1  1917 is the year in which there is a first record of a school visit to Ampurias of children from the secondary school of the nearby town of Gerona, preceding in ten years that recorded in Carmona (Sevilla). The first recorded visit to the Roman burial site of Carmona, already opened to visitors in 1885, took place in 1928, this type of visits becoming common in the 1930s (Rodríguez Temiño et al. 2015: 277). 2  Tourism to the Alhambra has also been the focus of a few studies (Cruces 1999; Méndez Rodríguez et al. 2010; Sougez et al. 2002). However the role of archaeology in it is more ambiguous, for funding was undertaken to restore and recreate the monument, but not to properly excavate its archaeological remains. Regarding visitor numbers, the Alhambra passed from having 10,000 visitors in the 1910s to 47,000 in 1929 (Méndez Rodríguez et al. 2010: 225). The site had been open to the public in 1909 and a funicular was built to facilitate access (Méndez Rodríguez et al. 2010: 225).

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Fig. 5.2  Professor Pere Bosch Gimpera (at the front, dressed in white) guides a group of tourists around Ampurias within the Workers’ Trips and Holidays program organized by the Tourist Office of Catalonia in August 1934 (© Museu d’Arqueologia de Catalunya)

sive guidebook was produced for the 1929 International Conference of Classical Archaeology (Bosch Gimpera et al. 1934). As with Ampurias, there is plenty of information on Stonehenge’s relationship to tourism during the interwar years.3 This megalithic site in southern England had been in private hands until 1918. In that year the owner, Cecil Chubb, offered it to the state, thus saving the government the expense of purchasing it (this had not been the case of other archaeological sites, as explained by Austen and Young (2002) for parts of Hadrian’s Wall in northern England). An admission fee had already been charged since 1900 and in 1919 a fence was built around the site (Wright 1999: 126, see Chap. 4). From the 1920s, even with the entrance fee, the site began to show the first signs of mass tourism. After World War I, Stonehenge was receiving around twenty thousand visitors a year (Chippindale et  al. 1990: 253), In 1935, 15,000 people were counted in a single summer month, after a picture of it on a Shell petrol advertising poster in 1932 (Fig. 5.3) had attracted many to the site. In those years Stonehenge was

 Tourists also visited other archaeological sites in England. One of them was Maiden Castle where postcards, interim scientific reports and unimportant archaeological material were being sold to tourists in the 1920s (Carr 2012: 229–230). 3

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Fig. 5.3  Poster “Stonehenge, See Britain First on Shell”, printed in 1932; designed by Edward McKnight Kauffer  (© 2019. Digital image, The Museum of Modern Art, New  York/Scala, Florence)

particularly affected by the increase in the number of cars that had facilitated greater mobility and had made it easier to access previously remote sites. The problem of cars blocking the road made it necessary to build a car park opposite the monument (Richards 2005: 47). The increase in visitor numbers also brought vandalism. In 1938, for example, green paint was splattered over some of the stones by four young officers from a nearby artillery school (Richards 2005). Although not strictly related to tourism, it is important to point out that Stonehenge also attracted a different type of visitor with an alternative reading of the past to that promoted by official tourism: the Druid movement. As mentioned in Chap. 4, the first Druid meeting was held at the site in August 1905, when around 650–700 people celebrated their initiation into the ancient order among the stones (Richards 2005: 32–35). This use was not favorably regarded by professional archaeologists, who wrote about the contemporary and nontraditional nature of certain myths associated with the monument (Kendrick 1927). The interest in the past led not only to visits to actual monuments, but also to staged authenticity, i.e. the building of new ones that copied old styles to create a perception of antiquity (cf. MacCannell 1999). These recreations had their origin in the restoration of medieval monuments in the 1830s (and even earlier), when architects had established norms of what buildings would have looked like in particular centuries and recreated them (Choay 2001: 201–206; Miele 1998: 112–119; Taylor 1998). At the end of the century, the moving of original buildings and their (hypothetical) reconstruction in open-air museums such as Skansen in Sweden (Crang 1999) saw as the next step the erection of hypothetical buildings in different locations for tourist visits, such as the Anasazi Cliff Dwellings in Manitou Springs (see

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Chap. 4). Staged authenticity continued in the twentieth century on a very large scale in cities, as shown by the example of Barcelona, where, in the early decades of the twentieth century, up to the outbreak of the Spanish Civil War in 1936, the tourist trade associations played an active role in urban planning. This led to some ordinary residential buildings being demolished and replaced by apparently historic houses imitating particularly those of the medieval period (Cócola Gant 2014; Ganau 2008). The development of archaeological tourism continued in those places where it had first begun in the nineteenth century, i.e. Italy, Greece and Egypt. Much attention has been devoted to them in the previous chapters and here only a few notes about Egypt will be added. In this period tourism expanded beyond the three classical areas to new shores. One of them was colonial French North Africa, which closely followed the evolution of archaeological tourism in the metropolis. In the early years of the twentieth century, Louis Carton, an army doctor and amateur archaeologist, who had begun to publish on Roman archaeology in Tunisia in 1889, became interested in tourism. He wrote many works such as an Express Guide of Carthage in 1908, Carthage and tourism in Tunisia in 1919 and The beauty of the ruins of Carthage (1923). He also became the chairman of the Tunis Wintering Committee and president of the Federation of Tunisian Tourist Unions and the Sites and Monuments Committee of the Touring Club of France (Tunis section). He and his wife were also behind the founding of the Society of Friends of Carthage and the Cities of Gold (Sdac) (Gutron 2012: 196), the goal of which was the reinstatement of the ancient theaters of North Africa. The membership of this society is revealing; it included the presidents of the Transatlantic General Company and the Touring Club of France, the General Manager of the Paris-Lyon-Mediterranean Railways and a representative of the Confederation of Tourism of North Africa. This clearly indicates that in the immediate post-war years colonial French North Africa was fully aware of the importance of tourism as an economic resource and that ancient sites – especially the city of Carthage – could become a focal point of tourist attraction. This was Louis Carton’s precise proposal in his booklet Carthage and Tourism in Tunisia published in 1919 (Dridi and Mezzolani 2012: 13). The 1920s saw further developments in monumental and archaeological tourism in Tunisia. In 1920, the first decree protecting monumental heritage was issued. It established a protection zone around the souks of Tunis, forbidding any alteration of the external appearance of buildings, vaults and roofs and any reformation work without the authorization of the municipality. This edict was passed in response to a petition signed by the owners, merchants and tenants of the main souks in Tunis, who believed that: “the conservation of the souks is a great interest for the art, that the local trade profits from the passage of the tourists attracted to Tunis by the reputation of the said souks” (Bacha 2009: 162). Another edict protected the archaeological site of Carthage due, as stated in the text, to “the exceptional interest that the ruins of Carthage present from the point of view of tourism and history”. The Central Committee of Tunisian Tourism was also set up in 1920 (Bacha 2009: 163). The numbers of tourists visiting Carthage lead to an increase in the number of hotels from two to seven in the first three decades of the twentieth century (Sayadi 2006: 126).

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Tunisia’s example was soon followed by Algeria where, during the centenary celebrations of the French conquest in 1830, an Accommodation and Tourist Office was set up. Tourists were recommended to include the Roman ruins in their visits (Oulebsir 2004: 262). In Libya – or what was then known as Italian Cyrenaica and Italian Tripolitania – the first excavations began at this time, although the precarious political situation in the years before Mussolini’s rise to power prevented tourists from visiting any archaeological sites (Rekowska 2013). Information about the Mussolini period will be provided in the next section. Tourism also continued to be developed in Egypt and the Near East. In Egypt, an interest in promoting domestic tourism to Egyptian antiquities was seen for the first time in the country’s history (Colla 2007: 150–158). The number of international tourists continued to grow steadily (Fig. 5.4) up to the discovery of Tutankhamen’s tomb in 1922, when there was a new wave of Egyptomania. Tourists flocked to see the site, even while it was being excavated. Between January and March 1926 over 20,000 people visited it (Fryxell 2017: 523) and the flow of tourists continued after the end of the excavation season. This renewed interest led to a new edition of the Baedeker tourist guidebook (its 8th edition published in 1929, 15  years after its predecessor). In Jordan, the opening up sites such as Petra to the public only became possible after the acceptance of the country into the League of Nations in 1922 and the arrival of facilities in the area. Conditions were not easy; it was not until 1926

Fig. 5.4  Tourists with a guide at Luxor Temple in the 1920s (Goode 2007: Fig. 4)

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that the nearest village to Petra, Wadi Musa, was linked to the city of Ma’an by telephone. This date roughly coincides with the first ‘hotel’, a camp built by the Thomas Cook Travel Company for tourists next to the only free standing Nabatean structure, the Palace of the Pharaoh’s Daughter. However, instead of using local workers, the company brought in well-trained Egyptian workers, limiting the benefit of tourism to the local population (Shoup 1985: 281). Moving on to the Far East, an incipient tourism in China was abolished at the start of the Maoist period (Nyíri 2007: 9). This was not the case of Japan, where the Japan Tourist Bureau (JTB) was established at Tokyo Railway Station as early as 1912 and a bimonthly magazine in English and Japanese began publication a year later. Japanese colonial Korea (1910–45) became a popular tourist destination for the Japanese in the 1920s and 30s (Pak 2010: 94). Archaeological sites were being promoted by 1912, after the JTB had opened a branch in Seoul. Sites were marketed through postcards, local newspapers, travel magazines, travelogues and guidebooks. The oldest historical capitals of Gyeongju, Puyŏ (Buyeo) and Pyongyang were targeted by tourists, as well as, from 1921, the Tomb of the Gold Crown and its museum in the former Silla Kingdom capital of Kyongju (Pak 2010: 101). The institutionalization of archaeology and archaeological tourism also reached the Asian colonies. In French Indochina, for example, the state laid the foundations for the conservation of archaeological monuments by setting up the office for the Conservation of Angkor in 1908. The decision to establish a protection zone of 200 meters around the site was taken in 1911 and this meant an effective colonial appropriation of the whole area and the forced relocation of the people living there. In 1926, the process of converting a lived-in space into heritage culminated with the creation of the Angkor Archaeological Park (Demay 2014; Miura 2004; Stark and Griffin 2004: 119–120; Winter 2007: 35, 40). The park area was decontextualized from its larger socio-cultural environment, stifling its contemporary character and its use by locals (Falser 2013: 83). The Angkor Archaeological Park represented the colonial power due to the delineation of its space with a boundary. The colonial experience visitors obtained in it derived from its mapping. This experience was also reinforced by the written information about it and from the experience provided while visiting it regarding movement, time management and the imposed visual regime (Falser 2013: 82–83). For Europeans, Angkor represented the exotic and its monuments became well-­ known thanks to the publicity given to the site back in the metropolis. Large-sized reproductions of Angkor were built for several trade exhibitions in France (Paris 1900 and 1931 and Marseilles 1906 and 1922) (Winter 2007: 37). In the colony itself tourism mainly developed from the 1920s and a series of by-products were soon to appear: tourist guidebooks, souvenirs and new means of transport to make the site accessible to visitors. A first comprehensive Guide aux ruines d’Angkor written by the Conservator General, Jean Commaille, in 1912 (Fig. 5.5) was echoed by other guidebooks in German and English and a photo-essay in National Geographic magazine (Falser 2013: 93–95). After the official creation of the Angkor Archaeological Park, another guidebook was published by Commaille’s successor, Henri Marchal (1928), and was soon translated into English. The guidebook

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Fig. 5.5  Angkor Wat in the publication L’Indo-Chine. Guide-Album à l’usage des touristes by the Touring-Club de France (1911). (Source: Société de Géographie, Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

included picturesque and camera-ready views and provided two alternative circuits for visiting the sites in the area, depending on the time available to spend in the ruins. The guidebooks to the site not only “predefined the visitors’ selective reading competence of culture heritage, and predefined and dictated his on-site practice (from “route” to “routine”), but they also... [served] as powerful tools of colonial hegemony” (Falser 2013). Souvenirs, access and accommodation were also facilitated in the 1920s. The souvenirs consisted of original pieces and molded copies of original statues. They could be bought both from the Musée Albert Sarraut in Phnom Penh and a pavilion in front of Angkor Wat managed by the École Française d’Extrême Orient (EFEO, French School of the Far East) (Falser 2013: 99). The two-day road trip to reach the sites was soon shortened by aviation when a hydrofoil airplane line was launched by the Saigon head office of Tourism Indochina in 1929 (Falser 2013: 99) (Fig. 5.6). The Hotel des Ruines unattractively situated by the front entrance was demolished in 1928 and replaced in 1929 by the Grand Hotel d’Angkor a few kilometers from the site (Winter 2007: 40). During those years several museums with archaeological exhibits were established. One of them was the Museum of Cambodia (later called the Musée Albert

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Fig. 5.6  Arrival of the tourist airplane at Angkor Wat airport in 1929 published in the Tourisme aérien en Indochine brochure (1929) (Source: Bibliothèque Nationale de France)

Sarraut) opened in Phnom-Penh in 1905 with a collection of Khmer statues. The museum of Cham art at Tourane (today’s Đà Nẵng in Vietnam) opened in 1919. It attracted 3262 visitors in 1928 and by 1936 that number had increased to 4475. A distinction was made between European and Asian visitors; for example, in January 1934, the figures were 62 and 173 respectively (Le Brusq 2007: 103). In 1929, another museum was established in Saigon (Ho Chi Minh, Vietnam), the Blanchard de la Brosse Museum, and yet another in Hanoi, the Museum Louis-Finot. One of the most visited sites was Angkor Wat in present-day Cambodia (Stark and Griffin 2004: 119–120; Winter 2007: 35, 151). In these institutions the past was described in Western terms following the spatio-temporal patterns of perception related to French colonial politics and territorial power.

America: Visiting Indigenous Sites and Moving South The non-monumental nature of North American archaeology and the lack of identification of white European Americans with it led to a general disengagement with indigenous archaeological sites. Following the trend already established in the nineteenth century, natural landscapes continued to be the pre-eminent tourist destinations (Shaffer 2001). However, archaeology benefitted indirectly from this, given that National Parks (see Chap. 4) also had archaeological remains in them, some of which were prepared for visitors in this period. The hiring of archaeologists also became an important consideration among park managers and from 1921, when the first archaeologist was employed by Mesa Verde National Park, they increasingly formed part of the workforce (McManamon 2007). In the 1930s, the National Park Service (NPS) underwent a major change and added forty-four historic areas to its natural and scenic areas (Little 2004: 270). This has also been linked to a growing interest in indigeneity, archaeology and anthropology (Rice 2017; Rothman 1989).

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It should also be noted that, in order to forestall the trade in antiquities, the business of souvenir selling was planned at the start of the twentieth century. In those years, Pueblo Indian artists were shown how to copy precolonial designs and make pottery to sell to the tourist market, in the hope of preventing the sale of original pieces (Evans-Pritchard 1993: 21). In the United States, archaeological tourism also benefitted from economic relief in the form of employment during the Great Depression of the 1930s, as support was given to several projects favoring archaeological tourism. The first historical archaeology sites had opened before the crash: Colonial Williamsburg in Virginia and the Spring Mill Pioneer Village in Indiana were supported with state funding (Pope and Sievert 2011: 215). The government also made funds available for the preparation of state history and archaeology guidebooks. Examples of the latter are those published on Idaho, California and Illinois by the Work Projects Administration Federal Art Project between 1937 and 1941 (Everson 2011). To the south of the US, Mexico went through a popular revolution between 1910 and 1920. The government installed at the end of this period realized that tourism would not only bring much-needed foreign currency to the country, but also international acceptance of the revolutionary regime (Mercado López 2016: 1031). Thus, a Department of Tourism was set up at the National Bank of Mexico in 1926. It produced a tourist bulletin in English with reports on tourist routes near Mexico City, including the archaeological sites of Teotihuacan and Cholula. The Ministry of Foreign Affairs also commissioned the Thomas Cook company to produce a small tourist guidebook, the so-called Handy Guide, which was then distributed through Mexican consulates and embassies. It contained specific information on exchange rates, hotels and cultural itineraries in central Mexico (Mateos 2006: 37). Archaeologists had already participated in the writing of the new tourist guidebooks, the most cited example being Manuel Gamio’s guide to Teotihuacan published in both Spanish (Gamio 1921) and English (Gamio 1922). Gamio had written his PhD at Columbia University under the supervision of Franz Boas in 1909, and after his return to Mexico he worked as an archaeologist before becoming a politician. He was appointed Inspector General of Archaeological Monuments by the Mexican Ministry of Public Education (1913–16) and headed the Directorate of Anthropology (1917–25). Along with one of his professors at the Museum of Anthropology, he had already attempted to write a first Archaeological Guide of the Republic in 1907, but lack of funding had led to the failure of their project (Rutsch 2001: 113). His 1922 guidebook included information about the pyramids, the sculptures representing mythological beings, the polychrome murals, and the spacious museum at the site, together with the picturesque sites of the valley and the transport connections with Mexico City (Gamio 1922). In 1929 Gamio issued the México Guía de Turismo, in which he argued that, in addition to the natural beauty of the country and the ancient tradition of pre-Columbian and colonial art, the traveler should be able to observe “another extremely important aspect… that does not exist in Europe and that, however, is never mentioned.” He was referring to the possibility of “visualizing the phases of civilization that humanity has gone through from hundreds of centuries ago until the present day” by comparing the ancient ruins to the contemporary Mexican population (Gamio 1929: 58–60). Finally, in the 1930s, a few more guidebooks on

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archaeological sites such as Tepoztlan, Teopanzolco and Xochicalco in Morelos and Chichen Itza in Yucatan were published (Villalobos Acosta 2014: 47). The guidebook to Chichen Itza was part of a wider attempt to turn the Yucatan peninsula into  a tourist destination. Yucatan as the ‘Egypt of America’ (as mentioned by Arnold and Frost 1908) was the title chosen for a campaign in the 1930s that attempted to attract tourists to Mexico’s Mayan  region. This first campaign failed, largely due to the remote location of the area, the lack of a transportation system and inadequate state funding (Anaya Merchant 2014). However, the foundations of what would come later were laid at this time. A self-made businessman, Fernando Barbachano, built the first hotel at Chichen Itza, the Hotel Mayaland, in 1926. He built another, the Hotel Mérida, in 1940, and six more between 1950 and 1963. He would be one of the founders of the Mexican Association of Travel Agencies, the Mexican Association of Yucatan Hotels and the Foundation for the Preservation of the Treasures and Archaeological Heritage of the Yucatan (Anon ny). Mexico’s attempt to ‘lure the American dollar’ was hindered by the effect on international tourism of the Wall Street Stock Market Crash of 1929 (Berger 2006: 12). The US economic recovery in tourism began to have an effect on Mexico in the mid-1930s. In 1937 more than 130,000 Americans vacationed in Mexico and at Christmas that same year the Miami Herald published a full-page advertisement entitled “The United States of the Republic of Mexico Wish you a Merry Christmas!”. It was accompanied by several photographs, including one of the Mayan ruins at Uxmal (Berger 2006: 74–75). Soon after, in 1938, the Mexican president, Lázaro Cárdenas, proposed the creation of the National Institute for Anthropology and History (Instituto Nacional de Antropología e Historia, INAH). In the document he sent to Parliament to discuss his proposal, he mentioned tourism was one the benefits that could be obtained from the institutionalization of archaeology and cultural heritage (Mercado López 2016: 1028). Cárdenas’ 1938 initiative was based on the enthusiasm created by the success seen in tourist numbers the previous year. However, this was soon watered down. The expropriation of the foreign-owned oil companies in Mexico led to rumors being spread in the USA of a lack of quality and quantity of petrol on Mexican roads. The year 1938 was also particularly bad for hurricanes and several bridges along the Pan-American Highway were destroyed. All this resulted in a drop of 50% in tourists from the USA (Berger 2006: 75). After this fiasco, archaeological ruins were again used in Mexico’s proclaimed Tourist Biennial campaign of 1940 and 1941 and, although World War II prevented its immediate success, it at least halted any further decline in tourist numbers (Berger 2006: 89). In Peru archaeological tourism began in earnest at the time of the Good Neighbor policy – the principle of non-intervention by the US in Latin American domestic affairs instigated by the Roosevelt administration from the mid-1930s. The site of Machu Picchu had already been included in the first tourist guides of Cuzco from 1924 (Mendoza 2008: 70) and had come to the attention of North Americans through Hiram Bingham’s Machu Picchu, a Citadel of the Incas (Bingham 1930). For Peruvians, Machu Picchu became a national symbol in the wake of a neo-indigenist movement; for American politicians it meant business. Access to the site was improved by the Santa Ana Railway in 1928, a new airport for Cuzco in 1934 and a

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small lodge built in that same year (Rice 2017). The difficulties, of course, were clear, as transport was insufficiently developed. In 1933 Cuzco was declared the “Archaeological Capital of South America” (Rice 2017: 57) and Machu Picchu was identified as the representation of the ancient Golden Age of Peru. In 1936 a mission was sent to the US to study tourism development strategies and one of the results was the selection back in Peru of thirteen hotels to be state-owned, including the small Machu Picchu lodge (Rice 2017: 59). In the US, movies, exhibits and teaching aids for schools were produced with pictures and information about the archaeological site. Images of the site were included in films such as Inca Treasure and The Heart of the Inca Empire (1943) (Rice 2017: 58). The first issue of  the Turismo magazine in 1936 had a picture of Machu Picchu on its cover (Fig. 5.7). It contained

Fig. 5.7  Cover of the first issue of the Turismo magazine (Peru), July 1936

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an article in English explaining that “to visit Peru and not include in your itinerary what is at once the center and circumference of Incaic and Spanish Colonial history, is an unpardonable sin, a foolish lapse” (in Rice 2017: 59).

 he Promotion of Archaeological Tourism by Right-Wing T Dictatorships The account of the development of tourism in the years immediately preceding World War I, and especially during the interwar period, has avoided mentioning two countries in which archaeological tourism was very much shaped by right-wing dictatorial politics. The examples of Italy and Germany demonstrate how politics got in the way of leisure and how this affected the popularization of archaeology from the 1920s to the 1940s.

Archaeological Tourism in Fascist Italy In Italy, during the 1920s and 1930s, the fascist regime made extensive propagandistic use of the Roman era and its interpretation, a vaguely defined concept that was expressed as Romanità. The classical period became a matter of public interest and this led to extensive state support for archaeology in institutions and also in archaeological tourism. In addition to promoting anything related to the Roman period, including institutions and museums, and archaeological excavations (Barbanera 1993, 2015), from the late 1920s the fascist government supported tourism by upgrading existing national tourism bodies and setting up new ones. This further buttressed the newly-­acquired importance of classical archaeology. This can be seen, for example, in the publications of the Italian Touring Club, a society that reached 180,000 members in this period. Its widely-read magazine, Le vie d’Italia, included several articles about the excavations of Pompeii and Herculaneum (Berrino 2011). These contributed to giving tourists a new image of Italy based on the state-supported vision of a moral, civil, political and productive country, one that went beyond limiting it to landscapes, art and climate (Berrino 2011: 223). Archaeological excavations of the Roman period received a clear boost under Mussolini. From 1924 to 1961 the direction of the excavations in Pompeii by Amedeo Maiuri (Pappalardo 2017), this archaeological site further reinforced what was by then a centennial relationship with tourism (Fig. 5.8). Maiuri was a prolific disseminator with hundreds of popular articles published in Italian and foreign magazines (publications that are in addition to his scientific production of some 400 titles) (Jacobelli 2008: 3). In addition to magazines, movies were also shot re-­ enacting Greco-Roman civilization, with excellent examples such as Scipione l’Africano (Scipio the African) and Gli ultimi giorni di Pompei (The Last Days of

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Fig. 5.8  Mussolini guided by Maiuri. Pompeii, 1927 (Source: Il Mattino Illustrato, issue number 44, 2–9 November 1931)

Pompeii 1926). In them the newly-excavated buildings were displayed. For example, The Last Days of Pompeii began with a panoramic view of Pompeii at the time, followed by some of the newly-revealed areas such as the Forum and the Stabian Baths (Jacobelli 2008: 3). The success of these blockbusters led to a considerable increase in road traffic in the area. This was resolved firstly by the construction of a motorway in 1929 and secondly, although a few years later in 1934, by a new branch of the Circumvesuviana Railway for which the Villa dei Misteri station was opened (Veronese 2014: 198). The tourist offer at Pompeii was boosted by evening visits to the ruins and the theater, as well as gladiator spectacles in the amphitheater (Jacobelli 2008: 4) (Fig. 5.9). Amedeu Maiuri also convinced Mussolini to recommence the excavations of Herculaneum, halted some 50  years earlier. The dictator made an announcement about this at the Roman Society for the History of the Fatherland (Società romana di Storia Patria) on 9 April 1927. In his speech he also alluded to the importance of the site for the nation (Jacobelli 2008: 5). The initiative was further promoted by the complex state propaganda machine for which the identification of the state with imperial Rome was key. Classical Rome was considered as the very noble origin of

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Fig. 5.9  Poster promoting the visit to Pompeii by night designed by G. Riccobaldi 1939. (Source: Jacobelli 2008: Fig. 8). In addition to German, this poster was also produced in other languages

Italy and an inspirational model. According to the state, Italians were the patrons of this great enterprise and were represented by the new excavations as being the enlightened sovereigns of the past (Veronese 2014: 196). The regime’s interest in classical archaeology made it possible to expropriate the houses standing above the site and to make funds available to build or refurbish houses and infrastructure to relocate those who were displaced. Excavating classical antiquities was part of a “program of restoration of national culture” (Maiuri in Veronese 2014: 197), as Herculaneum’s excavator claimed in a letter addressed to the Director General of Antiquities and Fine Arts. The economic crisis of the early 1930s threatened the

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funding for the excavations and Maiuri complained about the damage that halting them would cause, not only due to the failure to acquire new knowledge. Mussolini himself supported the work with a personal donation in 1937 (Veronese 2014: 199). Tourism influenced the way in which the excavation was undertaken, as priority was given to places that would favor tourists’ expectations; for example, by framing ruins in picturesque views of the sea, Vesuvius, and the surrounding mountains and vegetation (Veronese 2014: 199). Excavations also took place in Ostia, Rome and the island of Capri (Kostof 1978; Manacorda and Tamassia 1985; Moatti 1993: 141–242). A road was built to Ostia to facilitate the route from Rome to the coast (Fugate Brangers 2013) and the excavations took on a frenetic pace in connection with the intention of proposing Rome as the site for a world fair that never took place. Between 1937 and 1942, some 600 cubic meters of earth were removed and all this huge work was far from being properly recorded (The Ostia Foundation n.y). In addition to Pompeii and Herculaneum, Amedeu Maiuri also excavated and restored the Villa Jovis on the Island of Capri between 1932 and 1935 and made it accessible to visitors thanks to the installation of railings and stairs for their safety. The idea of conducting excavations so that the site could be opened to the public was present from the outset. In 1925, when Maiuri asked the authorities to expropriate the land on which the site was located, he underlined that the expropriation costs were not important, given the little agricultural value of the land and that they “would be largely offset by the high profitable value of such a monumental area with the simple application of an entry tax” (in Veronese 2017: 129). The official opening of the Villa Jovis as a tourist site took place in 1938, the year of the 2000th anniversary of the birth of the emperor Augustus in 68 BCE. 1938 was a key year for the use of classical Rome as the logical origin of fascist Italy, an idea that was especially cherished by the state propaganda machinery. In 1937, the Mostra Augustea della Romanità was inaugurated. It remained open for a whole year (Amaral 2014; Silverio 1983) and was visited by one million Italians and foreigners. The idea of organizing ​​ the Mostra Augustea della Romanità had been suggested to Mussolini in 1932 by Giulio Quirinio Giglioli, the director of the Museum of the Empire (Cagnetta 1976: 147). The exhibition exposed visitors to a flurry of political messages. At the entrance, a quote from Mussolini urged Italians to “let the glory of the past be surpassed by the glory of the future”. This message was framed by the statues of Mussolini and the first Roman emperor, Augustus, offering visual evidence of the historical, almost spiritual, connection between the two personages. The message was reiterated throughout the exhibition: Mussolini was the new Augustus, promoting laws, order, peace and prosperity (Silverio 1983). The connection between past and present was underlined in the last room dedicated to “the immortality of the idea of ​​Rome: the rebirth of the empire in Fascist Italy” (Kostof 1978: 303). The fascination of fascism with the classical past and its effect on tourism also had an impact on the Italian colonies. In Libya, for example, it influenced the way in which funding was distributed. A relative disregard for archaeology of Cyrenaica, where most sites were of Greek origin, contrasted with a boost in funding for Roman archaeology in Tripolitania. However, much of the funding was invested not in

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archaeological research, but in making archaeological sites accessible to the public. Low professional standards became the norm, especially in relation to remains not dating to the Roman period, and even when dealing with the classical period, excavations were rushed and not properly recorded. Archaeological excavations focused almost exclusively on the removal of the layers overlying the buried monuments to make them visible and little attention was paid to the stratigraphy, a basic principle of archaeological excavation that had been applied in the area before the Fascist period. Furthermore, many of the research decisions were taken on the basis of the local governors’ personal and business interests (Rekowska 2013: 16). The imperial city of Leptis Magna, to the east of Tripoli, was ‘cleaned’ of the layers covering its remains and in only ten years opened to the public. The new image of the ancient site was also disseminated through postcards and postage stamps (Rekowska 2013: 17). In the first half of the 1930s, access to the  archaeological remains was also facilitated by the opening of the Strada Litoranea, a coastal road linking Tripolitania and Cyrenaica. Guidebooks to the major archaeological sites were also published (Bartoccini 1927a, b). Funds were provided for the restoration of ancient monuments, such as the largest theatre in North Africa, Sabratha. Its excavation began in 1923, a guidebook published in 1927 and it was reconstructed in this period. By 1937, it was ready to be used as a theater and Oedipus Rex was staged (Calloud 2003; Munzi 2013).

Archaeological Tourism in National Socialist Germany National Socialism led to a huge increase in university chairs and a new interest in museums (Haßmann 2000). It was also important for tourism but its influence was noted in two contradictory ways. On the one hand, the lack of foreign currency limited travel to other countries and this affected international tourism. On the other, however, local tourism was politically encouraged and supported, as it was considered to lead to wellbeing and comfort, a biological urge of human beings. This was the ideology behind the state’s promotion of tourism, which some saw as a way of keeping Germans content and submissive (König 2003:261). An organization that played an especially important role in this was the ‘Kraft durch Freude’ (KdF) movement (literally: Strength through Joy). The KdF was founded in 1933 and was part of the ‘Deutsche Arbeitsfront’ (DAF), the institution that had replaced the trade unions and incorporated about 75% of the workforce in Germany, some 14 million people. The KdF had a tourist department called the Office for Travel, Hiking and Holidays (Amt für Reisen, Wandern und Urlaub). Between 1935 and 1939 about 30 million people benefited from the KdF’s one- or two-day excursions and 6.3 million went on the holidays organized by the institution (König 2003: 261–262). The trips were advertised to the whole population, including the working class, but in practice few laborers could afford them (Baranowski 2001; König 2003). The KdF did not only organize cruises and beach holidays, but also cultural trips to see monuments and towns, including those with a medieval flavor. Some of these were already popular destinations before the appearance of the KdF. A good exam-

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ple of this was the city of Rothenburg, known from the turn of the century as a prototypical German medieval town, something that attracted a growing number of visitors. The increase in tourism in the 1920s continued during the National Socialist period. A staggering 87% of the city had voted in favor of Hitler’s bid for presidency in 1932, which further increased its appeal to the KdF. Rothenburg thus became “the most German of towns” during the Nazi era. This included the elimination of foreign and ‘impure’ elements and engaging in a campaign of beautification and purification. As part of this, anti-Semitic texts and racist caricatures were displayed in ‘warning plaques’ installed on the town gates (Hagen 2006). The KdF also organized excursions to the Pfahlbaumuseum Unteruhldingen, a lake-dwelling site in Lake Constance (Schöbel 2002). This museum had been established in 1922 on the initiative of a 640-strong local society. In 1937, at the time of the arrival of its new director, the Nazi archaeologist Hans Reinerth, its popularity had already been established, as shown by the 28,000 visitors it had received in 1932 (Schöbel 1999: 19). This figure had more than doubled by 1936, when 66,500 came to see it (Schöbel 1994: 34). Reinerth became involved in a change in the museum display and the message to visitors in order to adapt it to the regime’s discourse. Reinerth was the head of archaeology at the Amt Rosenberg, an organization set up by the Nazi-ideologist Alfred Rosenberg (1893–1946) in 1934. The objective of this office was the ideological training and education of members of the National Socialist Party, a training in which knowledge of the archaeological past was considered to be important (Haßmann 2000: 76–77) (Fig. 5.10). The change of discourse promoted by Reinerth in the Pfahlbaumuseum affected the names of some of the palaphitic structures. This can be seen in the museum guide: the photograph of a reconstructed mansion (“Herrenhaus”) built for visitors in 1931 became the leader’s house (“Führerhaus”) in 1937 (changing again after the war, as in 1951 it was called the House of the Village Headman (“Haus des Dorfoberhaupts”)). Moreover, under Reinerth, the depiction of prehistoric life at the site was transformed to match the regime’s preferred image of the past: fierce Germanic peoples instead of peaceful lake-dwellers. However, this did not necessarily mean greater success for the museum. The number of visitors only grew in 1937, falling slightly in the following two years and, due to the war, slumping to 16,390 in 1940 a mere 598  in 1945 (Schöbel 1994: 35; Schöbel  1996–97: 49). During this period, the museum obtained part of its income from the sale of archaeological models and replicas to museum visitors, schools and other institutions (Schöbel 2002: 175). The success of the Unteruhldingen open-air museum encouraged the opening of others, such as, in 1938, the Mettnau Stone Age settlement open-air museum at Radolfzell, also on Lake Constance (Radolfzeller Stadtmuseum n.y). It would not be the only one, as after Mettnau four more open-air museums were established and the number would have grown if the war had not started (Schöbel 2007: 53). As can be seen from Reinerth’s example, some German archaeologists actively participated in the propaganda machine. In addition to museums, there were also exhibitions that encouraged the portrayal of Germany as having been strong since the prehistoric period. The “Lebendige Vorzeit” (Living Antiquity) travelling exhibition moved from town to town (Fig. 5.11), significantly changing its title to “Our Ancestors: Heritage Obliges” in 1937. Exhibitions even continued during the war in

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Fig. 5.10  Alfred Rosenberg’s visit to the Pfahlbauten museum at Unteruhldingen on 16 October 1937 (©S. Lauterwasser Germany)

Fig. 5.11  The archaeologist Hans Reinerth inaugurating the traveling exhibition “Lebendige Vorzeit” (Living Antiquity) for the Society of the North (Nordisches Gesellschaft) in Lübeck on 19 June 1936 (after Schöbel 2015: Fig. 11)

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occupied lands for the training and education of German military personnel, one example being that at Charkow in 1942 (Schöbel 2007). The Amt Rosenberg also organized the “Deutsche Grosse” (German Grandeur) exhibition that began in Berlin and then moved to other cities in Germany, as well as to Wroclaw (in annexed Silesia, Poland), Prague, Brussels and Strasbourg. Historically, the exhibition began with the early medieval period and created a historical discourse that made Hitler’s Europe look like the logical end point of the historical narrative. There were guided tours and organized group visits with an emphasis on youth associations (Gob 2007). Thus, the strong commitment to archaeological education that had already begun at the turn of the century (Schöbel 2007: 47) was placed at the service of the National Socialist regime.

Conclusions In the first half of the twentieth century, many of the developments highlighted in the last decades of the previous century continued. Thus, the role of the state as the employer of an increasing number of university professors, museum curators and monument inspectors continued to grow. Novel to these years, however, was the new responsibility that the state took upon itself of also encouraging tourism through state offices for the organization of this economic activity. A comparative analysis of those involved in the state commissions created to manage antiquities and those commissioned to develop cultural tourism shows that the same individuals often served in both. An examination of the sites whose excavations the state sponsored also reveals that those better treated economically speaking were subsequently opened to the public and received greater consideration. Archaeologists were not unaware of the importance of tourism and, in fact, they actively collaborated in its promotion by writing tourist guidebooks (Obermaier’s guidebook to Altamira, for example) and encouraging tourist visits to archaeological sites, even during excavations (as did Mortimer Wheeler at Maiden Castle). In parallel to the increasing number of monuments safeguarded by newly-passed legislation making them, for example, national monuments, there was a growing demand for the protection of natural landscapes in the form of national parks. The latter movement would also affect archaeology, albeit not the traditional kind, as it allowed for the protection of non-monumental sites included in them. Thus, the US, one of the first countries to legislate on natural areas, saw the first position for an archaeologist in a National Park (Mesa Verde National Park) advertised in 1921, only five years after the creation of the National Park Service. The state was not the only one interested in archaeological tourism, as private businesses also continued to grow in number and importance. The construction of the first hotel in Petra by Thomas Cook shows the extent to which investment in creating infrastructure to facilitate access to archaeological tourism was felt worthwhile. However, the growth in tourism also led to destruction, not only because of the damaging effect the pressure of visitor numbers was beginning to have on the

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preservation of sites, but also because looting was difficult to control and even encouraged in such places as Peru. In that country, advice on where to acquire antiquities was given to potential buyers in tourist guidebooks. As a way of providing alternatives, some countries encouraged the local manufacture of copies for the tourist market. Museums also became entrepreneurial in this regard, as for instance, did the Museum of New Mexico in its early history. The rise of right-wing totalitarian regimes in Europe in the 1930s brought about a new situation for archaeological tourism, as the state was now using the past for nefarious ideological purposes. Although many positions for archaeologists became available and the profession received a funding bonanza, this came with strings attached in terms of the message that had to be transmitted to the public.

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Chapter 6

Conclusions: Combining Leisure and Tourism From the Eighteenth Century to World War II

In this volume the historical genealogy of the relationship between heritage tourism and archeology has been unraveled throughout the different periods up to World War II. Before this book, the combined analysis of the development of a professional discipline and a leisure activity had only been briefly touched on by a few authors. Some of them have written about this relationship in general terms (for example, Díaz-Andreu 2014; Goeldner and Brent Ritchie 2012: Chap. 2; Himmelman 1976: 27–39; Walker and Carr 2013), while others have delved more deeply into specific case studies of countries or areas (Bacha 2013; Gao 2016; Gómez Díaz  2018; Villalobos Acosta 2011). Finally, as explained in the introductory chapter, many more have focused on a particular archaeological site or event. What is new in this book is a detailed examination, with a wide geographical perspective, of how the appearance and evolution of archaeological tourism was not completely separate from that taking place in the professional discipline of archaeology. Both professional archaeology and tourism belong to the Modern Age, to Modernity. Professional archaeology provides the state with the essential narrative to sustain its base, the nation, and to make it seem so real that people believe in it and feel an essential part of it. The important political role of archaeology explains, therefore, how the state is willing to provide necessary funding for the creation of infrastructure for museums, university chairs, and excavations and for monument conservation. Their role is justified by the need for citizens to be educated in the history of the nation. During the nineteenth century these same citizens soon became interested in visiting archaeological sites and museums. This was made possible in many occasions thanks to organized trips always arranged by private companies (see Chap. 3 for the earliest ones), whose participants went on them to learn about the country and its history, whether they were from that country or were foreigners. Organized trips depended on movement and the new means of transport required a change in the concept of time (from mean solar to standard time) and working hours (from solar to a fixed number of hours), all of which needed state legislation to be universally imposed (Chap. 3). State and private initiative were,  thus, since the

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primeval era of tourism, combined in the development of archaeological tourism. Both are also important elements for understanding the growth of leisure time, initially for the middle classes and later also for the working classes. Some industrialists appreciated the importance of free time and even provided parks and museums for workers’ amusement. However, without legislation promulgated by the state (Chap. 4) and, in the twentieth century, international agreements (Chap. 5), this would not have extended to the whole population. The state also became involved in the organization of vacations and further funding of the infrastructure that made them possible, including that related to archaeological tourism. Thus, the number of museums opened, and there was a growing trend in the number of excavations in progress, paid professionals, and tourist guidebooks with archaeological content, a trend that became marked in the first decades of the twentieth century, particularly in the interwar period. With the help of the state and private companies, the past was converted into an object of consumption. As with other types of tourism, in archaeological tourism we can see the key role of class and the production and reproduction of class relations. Access to the most prestigious archaeological sites was only possible for the wealthiest in the eighteenth century, whereas by the early nineteenth century members of the upper middle classes could afford it. Those lower down the ladder, but still with a certain disposable income, would join them mainly in the last third of that century. The  working classes, however, did not generally gain access to tourism until the twentieth century. The further the destination, the more time and money it took to get there, further demarcating the class distinction. Thus, in the eighteenth century, those describing their trips to Italy belonged to the highest echelons of society, whereas in the nineteenth century they were  replaced by the learned with lesser means, while the wealthier moved on to wintering in Egypt. These trips established rituals of social display at the visitors’ own homes after the trips. In their mansions the wealthiest amassed the results of their purchases, among them collections of original antiquities that they treated as ‘souvenirs’. The souvenir acted, according to Susan Stewart (1993: 126, 165), as sympathetic magic, as it conferred on the possessor all those elements linked to antiquity: truth, progress and civilization. Those of lesser means had to be satisfied, as seen in Chap. 3, with the consumption of smaller items (a piece of stone, a small antiquity bought in a bazaar). There was even an ‘Etruscan antiques supermarket’ in Chiusi in 1844 and Egypt had a lively trade in Egyptian mummies (Wellard 1973: 54, 76). The increasingly booming business of selling antiquities of all sizes and prices showed how ruins and old, forgotten things from the past, could be turned into objects of consumer desire. Many of the antiquities bought by travelers were, in fact, fakes, even in the days of the Grand Tour. This lucrative market in fakes should not surprise anyone. In a market economy, sellers attempt to reduce costs and this is definitely what happens when objects for sale take less time to produce (i.e. avoiding the need to search archaeological sites with uncertain results), while maintaining their visual aspect. Fakes continued to exist in the nineteenth century, but part of the market gave way to actual souvenirs, which still retained their magical function but were now

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transformed. Souvenirs became the representation of the trip itself, as well as items that could transport tourists back to the place they had visited. The origins of the souvenir industry can be found in Rome in the early modern period (Chap. 2). Beyond Italy, however, it can be dated to the middle of the nineteenth century when, for instance, small plaster reproductions of decorative elements in the Alhambra were being sold to tourists in Granada (see Chap. 3). Other later examples are given in Chaps. 4 and 5. In 1872, for example, souvenirs were being produced and sold at the millennial celebrations in honor of the Viking hero Harald Fairhair held in the small Norwegian town of Haugesund; in 1902 we find them in the Delphi museum (Chap. 4) and in the 1920s in the Musée Albert Sarraut in Phnom Penh and a pavilion in front of Angkor Wat managed by the École Française d’Extrême Orient (EFEO, French School of the Far East) (Chap. 5) (Falser 2013: 99). In 1990, the sociologist John Urry coined the term ‘tourist gaze’ to indicate the tourists’ expectations of what they were going to experience −expectations often based on cultural and racial stereotypes− and how this affected the way their experience was modelled to fulfil them. He also pointed out how local populations frequently and willingly took part in satisfying tourists’ expectations, with the aim of obtaining an economic benefit (an update of his theory can be found in Urry and Larsen 2011). The media through which tourists were told what to expect and how to experience it were many. They included travel books, tourist guides (Chap. 3) and, later, the first tourist brochures with archaeological sites and objects depicted in them (Chap. 5). The written and visual explanations in this literature supplied tourists with the keys for understanding what they were about to visit. In this context, photography was crucial in facilitating this pre-engagement and, therefore, in modeling the ways tourists experienced – and still experience – the actual visit. This set of expectations was also behind the transnational nature of the creation of the tourist experience in archaeological tourism. All over the world archaeological sites open to visitors were increasingly arranged in similar ways: with surrounding fences, empty spaces around monuments that highlighted their majesty, someone guarding the entrance and charging an entrance fee and, finally, a shop. Museums also became standardized everywhere in the world, with similar showcases and types of information provided. Archaeological sites and museums were being designed and their tourist experiences similarly packaged for global consumption. Archaeological tourism became a transnational mode of production. Most of what was visited in the periods dealt with in this book −from the eighteenth century to the  first half of the twentieth century− related to monuments. However, many were in a ruinous state at the start of the period and the dilemma surrounding how and what to reconstruct has its own history. There were growing attempts by restorers to reconstruct what they thought the archaeological site or piece would actually have looked like in the past (or in the case of buildings with long histories, in one particular period of the past especially liked by the architect or the sponsors). To enhance the ancient appearance of a monument, in the first decades of the nineteenth century buildings were decorated with furniture appearing to be from the recreated period (Chap. 3). Later, the buildings and sites themselves were (partially) reconstructed, making changes whose authenticity  may be contested

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today or even unreservedly ruled out. By the turn of the century, professionals resorted to staged authenticity, i.e. recreations of sites and monuments in places other than their original setting to set up open air museums or re-establish the medieval atmosphere of a city that had partially lost it (Chap. 4). Whereas the first restorations were undertaken with the aim of returning buildings to their supposed former nature following idealized rules, by the end of the nineteenth century and during the twentieth century, the renovations were increasingly based on what tourists liked or disliked. Thus, the old quarter in Barcelona went through a period of “medievalization”, not only due to nationalism and its craving for the medieval “Golden Age”, but also because the architects and politicians agreed in the advantages of converting the city into a tourist destination (Chap. 5). An acute observer may have noticed while reading the different chapters that the geographical area reached by tourists interested in archaeological remains continued to expand throughout the centuries looked at in this book. The busiest eighteenth-­ century route – from northern Europe to Italy (Chap. 2) – became too short for early nineteenth-century tourists, who added Egypt as a possible destination (Chap. 3). In the last three decades of the century, the area opened up even farther to include the imperial world – formal and informal (cf. Díaz-Andreu 2018: 4) – by embracing North Africa, the Near East, South and Southeast Asia and Mexico (Chap. 4). By World War II, archaeological sites and museums were being visited in all the places mentioned so far, together with China and Japan in Asia and Peru in South America (Chap. 5). The last section of Chap. 5 delves into the developments in archaeological tourism in Fascist Italy and National Socialist Germany. It illustrates the extent to which politics can become involved in promoting both scholarship of a particular type and leisure, with the latter including visits to archaeological museums and sites. The political interest in archaeology both benefitted and damaged archaeology. It benefitted it because it provided extensive funding for its expansion in universities, museums and state offices in Italy and Germany. It also made it easier for archaeologists to obtain official subsidies for excavations and expeditions that consequently grew in number and importance. This means that the necessary basis for the development of archaeological tourism received a boost that rippled out and reached the general public in the form of exhibitions, museums and historic cities to visit. However, although research was not hindered by the state and among the professionals, political messages were, with a few exceptions, not patent in the archaeology for public consumption, “ideological usefulness was all that mattered” to the state (cf. Haßmann 2000: 109). This means that interpretations were modeled – and sometimes openly manipulated – to reflect the prevailing ideology with its supremacist, racist and exclusivist connotations. Moreover, the authorities’ zeal to open new sites to the public led to a lowering of technical standards. Ostia and Leptis Magna were possibly the archaeological sites most affected by the lowering of scientific standards; they were excavated at carelessly high speed so that they could be opened to visitors as quickly as possible. Even though only a handful of archaeologists fully collaborated with the state requirements, most professionals complied with both Fascist and National Socialist regimes. Opportunism became common among

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archaeologists, who profited from the situation and used it to their advantage. They believed and/or willingly collaborated in the promotion of the new archaeological interpretations, communicating them to their peers through their scientific output and, more explicitly, to the public through leisure. The collaboration of professionals with the extremist political regimes of Italy and Germany damaged archaeology because it revealed the discipline’s vulnerability to political power and how easy it was to allow professional standards to slip. The end of World War II marks the final point of the book’s exploration of the history of archaeological tourism. What happened after the world conflict offers many aspects to be discussed in a future volume. They include an explanation of the international legislation passed to prevent developments such as those described in the previous paragraph. They also comprise an assessment of the position archaeological tourism reached in the renewed growth of the industry in the postwar years and especially in the last four decades. The effect of new developments as disparate as the creation of World Heritage, the end of the Cold War, the struggle for the rights of indigenous and local communities, and the infiltration of neoliberalism into the cultural field are all elements that should find their way into a future publication. This future study would then close the history of how the past was shaped to become the commodity we are all able to enjoy in our time.

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