Itinerarium curiosum (centuria II) — Context and Discussion

A Posthumous Collection of Fragments

The Advertisement candidly acknowledges the work's origin: Stukeley left many plates unpublished, and the editor assembled them from loose papers and notes “carelessly thrown together.” This is not a seamless narrative but a curated archive. The table of contents confirms the hybridity: it lists Iter Boreale, the two books of Richard of Cirencester, notes on those books, and an index. A first-time reader should expect abrupt transitions between Stukeley's own travels and the appended itinerary. The editorial voice warns of “many defects” and asks for “candid indulgence,” setting a tone of scholarly humility.

The Forged Itinerary and Its Latin Prose

The central portion reproduces Richard of Cirencester's Itinerary, written in Latin. The excerpts show a systematic geographical description: Britain is divided into provinces, and the text proceeds from Cantium (Kent) westward. The prose is dense with place names—Durobrobi, Cantiopolis, Rhutupi—and classical quotations, such as Lucan on the Rhutupine shores. The author cites Juvenal on oysters and notes the station of the Second Augustan Legion. This section reads as a scholarly reconstruction of Roman Britain, but modern scholarship identifies it as a forgery by Charles Bertram. The reader encounters a text that was long taken as authentic, adding a layer of historical irony.

Stukeley's Observational Method in the Plates

Though the excerpts focus on the itinerary, the volume's title promises “an account of the antiquities, and remarkable curiosities in nature or art, observed in travels.” The plates—copper engravings of sites like Stonehenge and Abury—are the visual core. Stukeley's method combines field observation with historical speculation. The Advertisement notes that many plates were intended for a second volume of the Itinerarium. A reader should examine the plates alongside the text, as Stukeley often describes what he saw and then interprets it through ancient authors. The work thus balances empirical travel notes with antiquarian theory.

Navigating the Composite Structure

The volume's organization requires active navigation. The table of contents lists distinct sections: Iter Boreale, the two books of Richard, notes, and an index. The reader may choose to read sequentially or to focus on Stukeley's own travels first. The Latin itinerary is followed by English notes and commentary, which clarify the geographical claims. The index provides a key to place names. A practical approach is to start with the Advertisement and Iter Boreale to grasp Stukeley's voice, then consult the itinerary as a reference. The plates, listed separately, reward close study with the accompanying text.

This volume is best approached as a cabinet of curiosities rather than a unified argument. The reader should attend to the interplay between Stukeley's firsthand observations and the forged itinerary that he championed. The editorial apparatus—the Advertisement, notes, and index—offers guidance through the fragments. By treating the work as a historical document of eighteenth-century antiquarianism, the modern reader can appreciate both its scholarly ambitions and its deceptions.

There’s something tender about how Stukeley’s hybrid notes let you wander—an itinerary that’s half real, half invented, held together by pure curiosity. It reminds me of reading this other book collected at the same site, The Oregon Territory, Its History and Discovery — A Closer Reading, where the map’s edges blur the same way, careful observation mixing with hopeful guesswork. I keep thinking about that quiet patience.