How to Observe in Archaeology: Suggestions for Travellers in the Near and Middle East

In Short

This handbook serves as a practical, technical guide for the non-specialist traveler in the Near and Middle East. Published by the British Museum in 1920, it provides the instruction manual for the "informed amateur"—a bridge between the curious tourist and the professional archaeologist. By outlining rigorous standards for observation, recording, preservation, and legal compliance, it transforms the traveler’s random discoveries into organized, useful archaeological data. The book remains a fascinating historical document, capturing a moment when the field of archaeology began to demand professional precision from its participants.

The Story

The arc of the book moves from the general philosophy of archaeological stewardship to the granular realities of fieldwork. It opens with a clear, sobering mandate: the traveler is not a treasure hunter. The primary objective is not the acquisition of objects for profit, but the advancement of knowledge. The book establishes the Archaeological Joint Committee to act as a bridge between the British government, academic institutions, and the public, emphasizing that archaeology is a shared responsibility that requires a "sane and enlightened" approach.

Once the moral and institutional framework is set, the narrative shifts to the physical labor of discovery. The reader is presented with a comprehensive "outfit" list—from simple bamboo canes and squared notebooks to the more specialized tools needed for "dry squeezes" and photographic documentation. The progression here is deliberate: the traveler must learn to map as they go, to communicate with local villagers to identify potential sites, and to treat every ruin not as a source of plunder, but as a complex puzzle requiring careful, non-destructive documentation.

The heart of the book is a series of regional surveys—Greece, Asia Minor, Cyprus, Syria, Palestine, Egypt, and Mesopotamia. For each region, the text provides a rough archaeological chronology, helping the traveler distinguish between the coarse, hand-modeled pottery of the Neolithic age and the refined, glazed wares of the Byzantine period. This section serves as a diagnostic tool. The reader learns that a "tell" is a stratified mound of human history and that identifying a site requires more than just finding a name; it demands an analysis of shards, architecture, and the surrounding landscape.

As the book approaches its conclusion, the focus moves from the grand scale of civilizations to the intimate, precarious work of conservation. Detailed instructions are provided for packing fragile artifacts, using paraffin wax to stabilize crumbling ivory or bone, and constructing crates that will survive long-distance travel. The narrative ends with the legal realities of the time, specifically the strict Turkish and Cypriote laws regarding antiquities. These sections serve as a final, forceful reminder that all findings ultimately belong to the state. The journey concludes with the understanding that the traveler’s true success is not what they bring home, but what they accurately record and leave for the public record.

How It Unfolds

The mandate for the amateur The book establishes that any traveler with an interest in antiquity has a scientific duty to observe carefully. It stresses that museums are not agents for private collectors and encourages the proper reporting of all discoveries.

The essential toolkit Detailed instructions are provided on the necessary field equipment, ranging from prismatic compasses to reservoirs for ink. This section emphasizes that planning and recording must be done immediately, as memories fade and photographs often prove unintelligible without notes.

The methodology of the field The text explains the technical nuances of "squeezing" inscriptions—using wet or dry paper to create accurate copies of stone carvings. It insists that excavation is destructive and should only be undertaken by those with professional training.

Regional diagnostics The book provides a systematic breakdown of pottery, coins, and architecture for various regions of the Near and Middle East. This allows the traveler to date a site or an artifact based on physical evidence like glazes, shapes, and stratification.

Preservation and logistics The final chapters offer technical advice on how to stabilize organic materials with paraffin wax and how to pack items securely for transit. It concludes by outlining the legal landscape, ensuring the traveler understands the regulatory consequences of their findings.

The People

The book is driven by the authority of the British Museum and the collective expertise of the Archaeological Joint Committee, a group of scholars and curators who view themselves as guardians of human history. These men, such as Sir F. G. Kenyon and W. M. Flinders Petrie, operate as the "voice" of the book. They speak to the "traveller"—an idealized, intellectually curious, and honorable person who stands between ignorance and scientific enlightenment.

The villagers encountered by the traveler are essential, if secondary, figures. They possess the local knowledge of the land, the names of the mounds, and the history of the soil. The traveler is instructed to engage them with respect, acknowledging that their collective memory is often the first step in locating a significant site. Finally, the "official" stands as the gatekeeper of history; the book respects the legal codes of the host countries, positioning the traveler as a collaborator with, rather than a subverter of, the local authorities.

In Its Own Voice

Regarding the traveler's conduct:

"It is assumed that the primary object of the traveller is not speculation in the pecuniary value of the antiquities that he may acquire, although he may be not unreasonably inclined to recover some of his expenses by disposing of objects which do not appeal to him."

Regarding the necessity of precision:

"'E. and O.E.' has no place in a plan."

Regarding the technical challenge of copying weathered stone:

"If reliefs have been much weathered they can be made plain for photographing by laying horizontal and covering with sand; on wiping away the sand from the relief the ground will be left flat sand, so hiding the confused hollows of weathering."

What It's Really About

At its core, the book is a treatise on the ethics of observation. It argues that a site’s value does not reside in the object itself, but in its context. The "truth" of the past is found in the stratification of a mound, the specific patterns of a pot’s glaze, and the physical location of a ruin. The underlying question is how to minimize the damage caused by the mere act of looking. By advocating for rigorous note-taking, careful planning, and legal compliance, the book transforms the romantic, often destructive "adventure" of the Victorian explorer into a disciplined, scientific process that respects the integrity of the archaeological site.

Why Read It Today

Readers interested in the history of science or the evolution of archaeological methodology will find this a fascinating, if sometimes rigid, window into the early 20th century. It captures the transition from the era of "gentleman-collectors" to the era of scientific archaeology. The prose is functional, direct, and occasionally dry, reflecting the museum-curator perspective of its contributors.

However, modern readers must be prepared for the period attitudes embedded in the text. The book reflects the colonial and imperial context of its time, particularly in how it treats the Near and Middle East as a vast, open laboratory for European inquiry. While the technical advice on preserving artifacts—such as the innovative use of paraffin wax—remains a testament to the ingenuity of early field researchers, the casual disregard for local agency in the extraction of history is glaring by contemporary standards. It is a book of its time: authoritative, deeply practical, and strikingly utilitarian. Its primary value today lies in its clear-eyed depiction of how a specific institution, the British Museum, sought to discipline the wandering traveler, turning their curiosity into a productive, albeit imperial, project of documentation. It is an artifact of the discipline’s own history.