On the track of Ulysses; Together with an excursion in quest of the so-called Venus of Melos Two studies in archaeology, made during a cruise among the Greek islands — Edition Insights

Reading the Landscape as Evidence

Stillman treats the Ionian islands as a text to be read alongside Homer. At Samé, he describes ruins of "all epochs" coexisting: Pelasgic walls, Hellenic masonry with stones "twelve to fourteen feet long," and medieval fortifications built atop ancient towers. He notes that the city's wealth is indicated by tombs lining the roads and enumerates Roman booty—two hundred golden crowns, eighty-three thousand pounds of silver—from a translated passage. The reader is asked to weigh such details against the Homeric account, but Stillman does not force a conclusion; he presents the physical evidence and lets the discrepancies speak.

The Slingers of Samé and Tactical Detail

In a lengthy excerpt from a Roman siege narrative, Stillman reproduces a description of Achaean slingers whose weapons were "threefold and made firm by several seams," allowing them to hit any part of an enemy's face at great distance. This technical precision—contrasting the Balearic sling's single strap—grounds the archaeology in practical warfare. Stillman then notes that these slings "checked the Saméans from sallying," leading to a four-month siege. The passage exemplifies how Stillman interweaves ancient texts with his own site inspections, expecting the reader to follow the thread from literary source to material remains.

Conjecture and the Limits of Certainty

Stillman repeatedly flags his own uncertainty. At Samé, he writes that "it is only by conjecture we can distinguish between the two hills," both covered with ruins. He describes walls "so broken in their circuit" that no plan of the siege could be made. Yet he does not abandon the attempt; instead, he offers a reasoned guess that the westernmost hill was captured first. This honesty about incomplete data invites the reader to share in the detective work, not to expect a definitive map. The book thus models a method: gather all available evidence, acknowledge gaps, and advance the most probable interpretation.

The Venus de Milo as an Induction

Stillman frames his second study as an "induction in which a kind of artistic instinct" plays the greatest part. He does not claim to have solved the problem of the statue's identity to the satisfaction of "severely scientific" archaeologists. Instead, he asks that his solution be judged by "highest probability." This approach mirrors the first study's method: the reader is not given a final answer but an argument built from observation and intuition. The preface's warning—that the solution may not command universal assent—prepares the reader to engage critically rather than passively accept.

Stillman's twin studies reward a reader willing to move between ancient texts, physical ruins, and reasoned conjecture. The book does not provide a tidy narrative; it offers a process. Pay attention to how Stillman weighs evidence—the size of stones, the shape of slings, the placement of hills—and note where he admits uncertainty. The pleasure lies not in the destination but in the tracking itself.

I came away from Stillman’s cruise feeling that every landmark hides another story, and the same ache lingers here—old surfaces, newer secrets. New York: Confidential! — Themes and Context carries that shadow into a city I thought I knew, and I’ve been quieter about it since.