Tintin and the discovery of artifacts

These elements lend the young reporter’s adventures a depth and richness rarely matched in comic books. How can we not wonder about the diverse origins of these strange objects—real or fictional, and yet, as we shall see, so familiar?

Hergé’s universe is a true playground for archaeology and history enthusiasts. A perfectionist in his documentary approach, the author draws from archaeological remains, historical magazines, museum collections, and explorers’ accounts to infuse authenticity into his narratives.

This dossier aims to explore some of the most striking artifacts in the saga, retracing their historical context and the inspirations that shaped them. When Hergé invokes a myth, he seamlessly weaves it into the action with the mischievous flair that defines his work. Being chased down like Tintin in Tintin in America? No problem — the sword of Damocles is here to save the day!

Hergé’s passion for ancient objects shines through in The Secret of the Unicorn. The three-masted ship, now at one with fish and seaweed, is the most imposing of all artifacts.

To create the model of The Unicorn, he drew inspiration from various sources, including historical ship models such as Le Brillant, a 17th-century French vessel, as well as other period sketches. He carefully studied ships of the era, particularly those of the French Royal Navy, to make his design as realistic as possible.

Furthermore, Hergé surrounded himself with experts, such as Gérard Liger-Belair, who advised him and even provided models to perfect the vessel’s authenticity. This demonstrates not only his genuine appreciation for historical artifacts but also his meticulous work in visual archaeology.

While rummaging through Marlinspike Hall, Tintin stumbles upon a veritable jumble of relics: suits of armor, vases and statues, all seemingly waiting to be unearthed from oblivion. This bric-a-brac, once stored away by the Bird brothers, is far from incidental. From medieval armor to chinoiseries, it evokes the 17th-century cabinets of curiosities, where marvels and oddities from across the globe were amassed — testaments to the era’s insatiable thirst for discovery.

The theme of hidden treasure resurfaces in Red Rackham’s Treasure, as Haddock and Tintin set out to uncover the captain’s ancestral legacy. Along their journey, they come across a chapel concealing a statue of Saint John the Evangelist, a remnant of Marlinspike’s medieval past. Its architecture echoes the stark yet powerful lines of Romanesque churches, while the motif of buried treasure harks back to 18th-century tales of pirates and explorers.The shadow of privateers looms over this adventure, rekindling legends of hidden gold and cryptic maps. "Blistering barnacles!"

In Cigars of the Pharaoh, Tintin ventures into a sort of hypogeum, where eerily modern-looking mummies lie — those of scholars who dared to desecrate the tomb of Pharaoh Kih-Oskh. Tintin and Snowy themselves are not spared from the terrifying curse.

This scene is deeply rooted in the great wave of Egyptomania that, from the 19th century onward, captivated the collective imagination, fueled by archaeological expeditions and the rediscovery of ancient splendors. The fascination reached its peak in 1922 with the uncovering of Tutankhamun’s tomb, an event Hergé subtly echoes through striking details. Among the paintings and hieroglyphs, for instance, stands a statue of Anubis. As a warning, the ever-watchful guardian of the tomb has even seized the overcoat of the Egyptologist Doctor Sophocles Sarcophagus.

Why settle for mere treasure when a single object can determine the fate of an entire kingdom? In King Ottokar’s Sceptre, the royal artifact at the heart of the story becomes the focus of a conspiracy with deep historical implications. The sceptre of Ottokar IV, the crown jewel of Syldavia’s treasury, is displayed against a backdrop of ancient frescoes.

It serves as a true instrument of political legitimacy, as Syldavian tradition dictates that any ruler must brandish it during their coronation — failure to do so results in the loss of the throne. Its theft, orchestrated by Bordurian agents to pave the way for an annexation, mirrors the geopolitical tensions of the 1930s, particularly the 1938 Anschluss, when Nazi Germany annexed Austria.

Hergé grounds this intrigue in an atmosphere steeped in history and artistic references. Even the name Ottokar evokes historical monarchs from Central Europe, notably Ottokar II of Bohemia. This deliberate choice reinforces Syldavia’s historical credibility, linking it to well-established traditions.

The album is rich with scholarly references, such as the brochure Tintin consults, which features a battle scene inspired by a 15th-century medieval miniature. The attention to detail doesn’t stop there — the Syldavian script, omnipresent in various documents, is inspired by Cyrillic, further lending authenticity to this imaginary kingdom, firmly rooted in a Balkan Europe with strikingly real echoes…

What if I told you about a story that revolves around a stolen Arumbaya statuette — an object that is both a mystery and a coveted prize? You’ve guessed it: this time, we’re delving into The Broken Ear. Hergé introduces an Arumbaya statuette, inspired by pre-Columbian art, which becomes the centerpiece of a tale of theft and intrigue.

This counterfeit ethnographic artifact, distinguished by its missing ear, evokes the ritual sculptures of South American cultures, particularly those of the Chimú people. While the Arumbaya tribe itself is fictional, it draws from Amazonian lore, reinforcing the story’s exotic atmosphere. Far from being a mere decorative element, this museum piece plays a crucial narrative role, embodying both a fascination with distant cultures and the intricate mechanics of mystery at the heart of the album. Who would have thought that even a broken ear could make so much noise?

One of the most unsettling "characters" in the Tintin universe is undoubtedly the mummy of Rascar Capac, central to The Seven Crystal Balls. Silent and menacing, it seems to carry a curse, striking down the members of the expedition that unearthed it.

In this extraordinary adventure, Hergé draws heavily from Incan archaeological artifacts to enhance the authenticity of his narrative. The temple’s architecture, with its precisely fitted stone walls and monumental staircases, is reminiscent of sites like Machu Picchu, though some elements belong more to pre-Incan cultures.

The omnipresence of gold reflects its sacred status in Incan culture. Additionally, the ceramics and textile patterns featured in the story are characteristic of Andean civilizations, though certain Mochica and Tiwanaku influences create minor historical anachronisms. Despite taking some creative liberties, Hergé meticulously based his depictions on various sources, including Peru and Bolivia by Charles Wiener, the February 1938 issue of National Geographic — particularly an article by Philip A. Means — and engravings by painter Herbert M. Herget. These references helped him accurately portray Incan clothing in Prisoners of the Sun.

Even the extravagant floral motif adorning Professor Calculus’s sacrificial tunic was drawn from this conscientious research. By relying on engravings and photographs from these sources, Hergé infused his narratives with an almost ethnographic quality. Ironically, he himself traveled very little during his lifetime. Few stamps on his passport, yet thousands of journeys in the imagination of his readers.

References to archaeological sites — such as the ruins of Petra in The Red Sea Sharks or the monumental head reminiscent of Olmec figures in Flight 714 to Sydney — demonstrate Hergé’s keen interest in archaeology. Far from being mere decorative details, these nods reflect his knowledge and the influence of various theories on lost civilizations. And these are just a few examples among many.

Whether central to the plot or subtly woven into the background, these artifacts ground each adventure in a world that is both realistic and evocative. Through meticulous documentary research, Hergé captures their essence, fueling the imagination of his readers. Between myth and reality, these historical references enhance immersion and contribute to the enduring fascination with Tintin.

For a deeper exploration, a detailed dossier delves into these archaeological influences and discoveries scattered throughout the albums.