November 15–21 is Geography Awareness Week. In honor of the occasion, PhD student Tobias Feldmann takes a look at some of the rare cartographic works housed in the Julian Edison Department of Special Collections at John M. Olin Library.
Cartography and Maps
A map helps us orient ourselves in the world or in a specific region and find the place we’re looking for. Usually a culmination of extensive work done by a lot of people, the map has been an important tool for hundreds of years. Many older maps are intricate, delicate drawings or printings at the intersection between art and science.
But cartography also has a downside, when it’s used for colonization, military invasion, and the assertion of cultural and political dominance over other people. Including a specific region in the map of a country, state, or empire can be a form of conquest, as is assigning new names in the language of said empire to the places that already had proper names before. Naming is claiming.
Today, smartphone apps based on satellite technology have revolutionized cartography. What was it like before then?
The Three Continents of the World
Many of the older maps originating from Europe, especially the Roman and medieval world maps, had a circular shape and looked like the letter T inside the letter O. In the center of these maps was Jerusalem. East was at the top, filling the upper half of the circle, with a map of the known parts of Asia. Europe was in the lower left and Africa in the lower right corner.
These maps were “oriented,” meaning they were facing east, and their shape was due to the common belief that the Earth was flat—a sort of a round disc. Many maps tell us much more about their makers and their beliefs and world views than they tell us about the geographic region they depict. The world map in the Nuremberg Chronicle by Hartmann Schedel already faces north and shows all parts of the known world in a more realistic way. Although we know today that this map isn’t very accurate, especially concerning the actual size of the continents, it is a fair depiction of what European scholars in the late fifteenth century were able to know.
What’s missing on the world map in Schedel’s Nuremberg Chronicle, obviously, is a representation of the Americas. This is simply due to the fact that news of the ‘discovery’ of these continents had not made it back to Europe yet, and even after Christopher Columbus’s return, it would take the Europeans another 15 years to realize that Columbus hadn’t landed on the west coast of India, but rather on a different continent that just so happened to be in the way. In 1493, when the Nuremberg Chronicle was being printed, no one in Europe new that the Americas even existed.
“Not by land to the East,
but by a Westerly route”
During their journey through territory they considered uncharted, many European ‘explorers’ were relying heavily on the knowledge of people who had already been living there for a couple thousand years, while at the same time dismissing them as ‘cultureless’ or ‘uncivilized.’ This applies to many regions in the world, occupied and subdued by imperial Europeans. By going to a country they had no business being in, not acknowledging the culture of the indigenous population, and ‘giving’ European names to people and places, these cartographers committed the first acts of violence in a long series of invasion, exploitation, torture, rape, abduction, and genocide that often lasts—in one form or another—until today.
The Problem of Orientation
We’ve known for a while now that our planet is a round and three-dimensional sphere rather than a flat disc. (To be precise, it’s not a perfect sphere, but a so-called “geoid”—meaning an ‘earth-like,’ uneven shape that somewhat resembles a large potato.) On this sphere an exact orientation can prove challenging, because unlike the rather fixed terms “North” and “South,” “East” and “West” are relative terms. Everything can be in the East or in the West, depending on a person’s point of view. That’s what coordinates are for. And everyone who has touched a globe in their life will know that you only have to keep turning it until it shows you the region you want to look at. But since a map is usually flat and two-dimensional, choosing its orientation can be a difficult decision. What do you put in the center, what do you remove to the periphery? As we have seen, even the common practice of putting the North ‘up’ and the South ‘down’ is nothing but an arbitrary decision that was somehow made into a convention.
Maps Without Maps
And then there’s the aspect of oral ‘cartography.’ Not all maps, or rather: mapping techniques rely on physical maps drawn or printed on a piece of paper. Mapping is about marking the space we live in as much as it is about visualization it, and this organizing can be fixated in many ways. Just think of the “song lines” or “dreaming tracks” of the indigenous people of Australia, the Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. For thousands of years they have mapped the Australian outback with stories and songs using distinctive landmarks as points of reference to weave an immaterial grid—until, again, European colonizers invaded the continent and started destroying landmarks and building borders between ‘their’ newly claimed territories, just like they did on many other continents. The way these colonizers looked down on the indigenous population is illustrated by the bleak efficiency of the choice of words in George Caitlin’s Illustrations of the manners, customs and condition of the North American Indians. Shown above is an “Outline Map of Indian Localities in 1833” from the first volume. In the lower left corner you can find the legend, prompting you to also consult the map in the second volume, “since all the tribes have been removed from the States W.[est] of the Mississippi.”
The Atlas—As Weighty As It Sounds
According to Greek mythology, the titan Atlas is the one who has to hold up the celestial heavens at the western end of the world for eternity. He is also known for his expertise in Philosophy, Mathematics, and especially Astronomy. It was in his honor that the Flemish geographer Gerardus Mercator called his first bound collection of maps an “Atlas.” For centuries, before the invention of the internet anyway, this type of collection was the best and most important way of presenting detailed and fairly accurate geographical information from many different regions of the world. The famous Atlas Maior ( https://library.wustl.edu/exhibitions/permanent-exhibitions/blaeu/ ) compiled by John Blaeu around 1662-65 is one of the richest of its time and it’s currently on display in the Newman Exploration Center in Olin library.
One of the most accurate and detailed atlases between the mid-nineteenth and the mid-twentieth century was the Hand Atlas über alle Theile der Erde und über das Weltgebäude by Adolf Stieler, called “Stielers Handatlas” for short. What started out as a compendium of not even 50 loose-leaf maps in the early nineteenth century turned into the leading German world atlas with the sixth edition published 1871-75 by August Petermann, Hermann Berghaus, and Carl Vogel. Petermann, one of the leading cartographers at Justus Perthes Publishers in Gotha, Thuringia (Germany) from the 1860s until his death in 1878, sat in the center of a global network of geographers who traveled all around the world and collected enormous amounts of geographical data. The high level of scientific accuracy and especially the detailed relief representations remained unmatched for decades. Well, at least until technologies like aircrafts, computers, and satellites changed the game of cartography forever.
This is only a glimpse into the world of cartography. Most of the geographic works and maps in Special Collections originate from Europe or the United States. Let’s not forget that the traditions of ancient Chinese and Islamic cartography are older than the European one, and that they were also more advanced and more accurate for over a thousand years—especially during the European middle ages, when the Catholic church gained enough influence over all aspects of society to force its limited world view on many scientific and scholarly disciplines. But as we have seen, there is so much more to learn from maps than just about the regions they depict. The maps and cartographic or geographic books in Special Collections are a rich fund of knowledge about the world views, beliefs, endeavors, and aspirations of the people who produced them—where they came from, what they were missing, and how they planned to find it.
Barrows, Adam, Time, Literature, and Cartography After the Spatial Turn: The Chronometric Imaginary. New York: Palgrave Mcmillan, 2016.
Boatcă, Manuela, “Forgotten Europes. Rethinking regional entanglements from the Caribbean.” Critical Geopolitics and Regional (Re)Configurations : Interregionalism and Transnationalism Between Latin America and Europe. Edited by Heriberto Cairo and Breno Bringel. London and New York: Routledge, 2019, pp. 96-116.
Deleuze, Gilles; Guattari, Félix, A Thousand Plateaus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1987.
Engberg-Pedersen, Anders (editor), Literature and Cartography: Theories, Histories, Genres. Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 2017.
Field, Kenneth, Cartography: A Compendium of Design Thinking for Mapmakers. Redlands, CA: Esri Press, 2018.
Kraak, Menno-Jan, Cartography : visualization of spatial data. Third Edition. New York: Guilford Press, 2011.
Monmonier, Mark, How to Lie with Maps. Third edition. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2018.
Skelton, Raleigh Ashlin, Maps: A Historical Survey of Their Study and Collecting. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1972.
Stevens, Henry Newton, Comparative Cartography. London: Map Collectors’ Circle, 1967.
Tooley, Ronald Vere, Maps and Mapmakers. Fourth Edition. London: Batsford, 1970.
Tobias Feldmann is a PhD student in German and Comparative Literature, Track for International Writers at Washington University in St. Louis. He avidly reads and writes realistic and speculative fiction as well as poetry and enjoys archival work.