Category Archives: Travel

The disappearing engraver

In 1827, James Gardner published a map of the main roads of central Europe: New post map of Central Europe, exhibiting the great and secondary routes with the various stations where the relays are obtained … the whole forming a complete posting companion for the continental tourist. ‘Post’ roads were the main communication links across countries, the routes for carrying both mail and passengers in stage coaches, with regular stops to change horses. The map includes eastern England, with sea routes to the continent, and covers Europe as far south as northern Italy and as far east as Hungary. The map first appeared in 1827 and was reissued with updates for a few years thereafter; the Bodleian holds copies from 1828 and 1830.

The 1828 edition of the map

The map has an attractive design, with hand colouring to show international borders, clear symbols for categories of roads and settlements, and distances given in ‘posts’. It is dissected and mounted on cloth, enabling it to be folded in a leather case for carrying when travelling. The geographic coverage is enhanced by narrow strip maps down each side, one of western Italy (including major cultural centres such as Florence and Rome) and one of the River Rhine. Top centre is a detailed map of the ‘Route of the Simplon’, a high pass in Switzerland, newly improved in the early years of the nineteenth century by Napoleon; this is beautifully engraved by William Palmer, showing the mountains and in a different style to the rest of the maps.

The small inset map of the Simplon pass was engraved separately by William Palmer

The identity of the engraver of the main map has an intriguing story attached. The 1828 edition has his name clearly marked in the lower margin: ‘engraved by W. R. Gardner.’ The updated version a couple of years later has his name erased. It’s not uncommon for erasures of this sort to be made to printing plates, perhaps if a new publisher took them over and reissued the work, but it’s rare for it to happen quickly and when the work was still being issued by the original publisher (who may in this case have been related to the engraver, although no relationship has been identified). The explanation may well be that the engraver’s name had been disgraced.

The engraver’s name in the lower margin, fro the 1828 version of the map
In later editions Gardner’s name has been removed, although faint traces can be seen

An advertisement in the London Gazette of September 1829 invites the creditors of William Gardner, ‘engraver and printer .. late of number 13, Harper Street, Red Lion Square’, to a meeting with the assignee of the estate to agree on a method of recovering their money; they are invited, amongst other proposals, to assent or dissent to ‘giving up to the Bankrupt’s wife such part of the household furniture, estate and effects, for the use of herself and family, as he shall think fit’; it was clearly an unfortunate situation. Bankruptcy wasn’t the whole story though; Gardner was found to have fled the country for New York with thousands of pounds in forged bills, taking one of his four children with him; one wonders about the fate of his wife and the remaining children left behind. He is described in British map engravers (quoting a contemporary report) as having ‘a very prepossessing exterior and agreeable manner’ – a charming conman, perhaps. It’s easy to understand James Gardner wishing to erase William Gardner from his map, even – or perhaps especially – if they were related.

New post map of Central Europe, exhibiting the great and secondary routes with the various stations where the relays are obtained … London: Published by James Gardner, Agent for the sale of the Ordnance Surveys &c., [1828]. Allen LRO 299

New post map of Central Europe, exhibiting the great and secondary routes with the various stations where the relays are obtained … London: Published by James Gardner, Agent for the sale of the Ordnance Surveys &c., [1830] Hope III.Cc.9

The itinerary of Jan Huygen van Linschoten

Maps come in all sorts of formats and sizes, and they also come in all sorts of different mediums as well; globes, atlases and single sheets. As well as these early printed maps are often to be found in itineraries, those wonderful descriptions of early exploration, full of tales of new lands, new people, new customs. It was often in these itineraries that readers would first see in illustrations the strange new sights that they may have only heard about previously – imagine being told what an elephant looked like, and then seeing a picture of one – and the maps, though important in themselves as cartographic records, were more often than not secondary to the written narrative and illustrations.

One such itinerary is in the office at the moment. Jan Huygen van Linschoten (1563-1611) was, as it seems with a lot of people we read about from these times, a bit of a polymath. Dutch merchant, traveller, writer and, intriguingly, a spy as well. Spy because he travelled extensively through Portuguese areas of influence in the Far East, especially around the Spice Islands of Indonesia, and then wrote about his travels in a book published in 1596, Itinerario, voyage ofte schipvaert, van Ian Huygen van Linschoten naer Oost ofte Portugaels Indien inhoudende een corte beschryvinghe der selver landen ende zee-custen… (Itinerary, voyage or navigation, of Ian Huygens from Linschoten to the East or Portuguese Indies containing a short description of the same lands and sea coasts…).

Here’s a beautiful double hemisphere World map from the start of the book with representations of the 4 continents in the corners. The map is by Jan Baptista Vrient, a Dutch geographer and cartographer.

There are a number of regional maps throughout the work, the most important considering what Linschoten’s work was dealing with was of the Far East, and the Spice Islands. The itinerary pre-dates the Dutch influence in the region but only by a few years, and the work had an influence on Dutch ambitions in the region. By the early 1600s the Dutch had started to gain control of the spice trade with the setting up of the Vereenigde Oostindische Compagnie, the Dutch East India company in 1602.

As can be seen these are beautiful maps, hand-coloured and for the time accurate depictions of the regions shown.

As well as maps the books contain illustrations of flora and fauna, people and customs. Here’s a page showing different fruit trees (bamboo, mangrove and durian)

Another page has illustrations of temples and religious practises, including a pagoda and a mosque.

Itineraries have a long history, dating back to classical times in the form of a periplus, a list of destinations on a journey which would often then be expanded by Greek and other writers into more general histories through to itineraries like the one in this blog to works on travel writing as a form of social commentary (such as Daniel Defoe’s ‘Tour thro’ the whole island of Great Britain’ (1724)) on to the current trend for travel writing as a form of entertainment. Linschoten’s itinerary is a wealth of information and illustrations of the people, customs, trade and geography of the Far East. It’s just one of a number of books he wrote in the 1590s about the region and of the voyage to get there along the east coast of Africa. An English translation was published in 1598.

And here’s our spy, looking quite dapper in his ruff and whiskers. It’s wonderful to imagine the adventures and sights seen by Linschoten on his travels.

Year of Jubilee: maps for pilgrimage

Since the 15th century, the Roman Catholic church has celebrated a ‘Year of Jubilee’ every 25 years, during which pilgrims from around the world travel to Rome for a series of events, festivals, and visits to holy sites. 2025 is one such year, with awareness having been heightened further by the recent death of Pope Francis and election of Pope Leo XIV – the first time a new pope has been elected during a Jubilee year since 1700.

Over 30 million pilgrims are expected to arrive in Rome throughout the year, in addition to the similar number of tourists which visit the Italian capital every year. While the 49-hectare Vatican City state – now the world’s smallest sovereign nation – is a focus for many, maps have long been used to guide pilgrims along itineraries of basilicas and holy sites all around Rome.

Erhard Etzlaub’s famed ‘Das ist der Rom weg‘ – the first known German road map of any kind – was produced for the 1500 Jubilee, guiding travellers to Rome via a series of dotted lines across a map oriented with south (and Rome) at the top.

Southern part of ‘Das ist der Rom weg von meylen zu meylen mit puncten verzeychnet von eyner stat zu der andern durch deuczsche lantt’ (1500); Broxb. 95.24

After arriving in the fabled city, pilgrims’ accounts record the inspiring nature of encountering its holy sites:

[On St Peter’s Basilica] “In a word, ‘tis the most perfect model of decent magnificence in the world, there being an answerable uniformity, both within and without.”

From “A pilgrimage to the grand jubilee at Rome, in the year 1700″ (1701)
Title page of ‘A pilgrimage to the grand jubilee at Rome, in the year 1700. By an English gentleman‘ (1701); Douce I 102
Extract from ‘Nuova pianta et alzata della citta di Roma‘ (1705) showing St Peter’s Basilica; (E) C25:50 Rome (31)

In more recent years, official publications have been produced by Jubilee organisers to provide maps and practical information to visitors. ‘Little guide to Rome : for the pilgrims of the twentyfifth jubilee‘ (1950) (by the Press Office of the Central Committee for the Holy Year) includes a series of twenty detailed 3D maps of the city, in addition to an overview index map. These ensure landmarks are visible by rendering much of the city as grey blocks, and only notable buildings with brown pictorial representations.

Plans 1 and 13 from ‘Little guide to Rome : for the pilgrims of the twentyfifth jubilee’ (1950); M93.H00710

While some maps are produced with a very practical navigational purpose in mind, others are considerably more decorative, such as the impressive ‘Forma urbis Romae : pianta monumentale di Roma per il Grande Giubileo dell’anno Duemila‘ (The form of the city of Rome : monumental plan of Rome for the Great Jubilee of the Year 2000). At first glance, the map appears to be considerably older, with a cartographic style and surrounding cartouches reminiscent of the the Renaissance. However, the map is in fact an original work produced for the 2000 Jubilee by the Vatican Apostolic Library, engraved on a copperplate using traditional methods. The artwork around the edges of the map reveal its modernity, with modern landmarks appearing among the city’s ancient monuments.

‘Forma urbis Romae : pianta monumentale di Roma per il Grande Giubileo dell’anno Duemila‘ (2000); C25:50 Rome (100)
The Colosseum and Pantheon sit alongside Fiumicino Airport.
The Basilicas of St Peter and St John Lateran appear next to the Olympic Stadium.
A herald plays a trumpet over Termini railway station, while an airliner flies overhead.

A newly acquired map produced for the 2025 Jubilee (by Edizioni Cartografiche Lozzi) returns to a navigational use, prominently highlighting ‘Percorsi giubilari’ (Jubilee routes) around the city in yellow, navigating pilgrims around four extensive, colour-coded itineraries.

Again, helpful pictorial renderings of famous landmarks en route provide a useful navigation aid. The inclusion of accompanying information in six languages (Italian, English, French, German, Spanish, and Polish) highlights the international nature of the event, and a calendar of events is placed at the bottom. The map is foldable and laminated, clearly intended for use ‘in the field’. Whether such maps of the Eternal City will be fully digital by the time of the 2050 Jubilee remains to be seen.

‘Roma : Mappa del Giubileo 2025, percorsi del pellegrino’ (2025); C25:50 Rome (131)

Mountain man

Of the three main ways that material comes into the library; legal deposit, purchase and donation, donations are usually the best. More often than not these are older maps, sometimes with annotations or with a good story attached (here). So it was exciting to get a box recently from an Oxford resident, of maps that belonged to her grandfather. The maps are a mixture of locations and dates, but most are of hilly and mountainous places.

Born in Florence in 1889 to a British family John Alfred Spranger (J.A.S from now on) was a man of many talents. A skilled photographer (examples of his work can be found here Fragmented Archives: an Example of the Photographs of J.A. Spranger in the SPHS Collection – British School at Athens ), an engineer and a cartographer. He also published works on Greek manuscripts and took part in the publishing of a version of the Greek New Testament. And he liked to climb mountains.

Inevitably the maps concentrate on his life in the mountains, and are mostly of areas close to Italy. Maps of mountainous regions, with the need to show relief and dramatic landscapes, are often beautifully engraved and as a result usually look wonderful (see the map at the end of the blog). Here’s a 1896 map of the Mont Blanc Massif, part of the Alps that J.A.S.started climbing in the years leading up to World War One.

La Chaine du Mont-Blanc, 1896, C21:44 (54)

J.A.S. took part in an Italian expedition led by Filippo de Filippi to the Himalayas, Karakoram and Eastern Turkestan between 1913 and 1914, finishing the expedition late into that most ominous of years.  A book by de Filippi, published in 1932 and including a chapter and photographs by J.A.S., who did the majority of the surveying work on the expedition, concludes with this poignant last paragraph ‘So we had to part from our English colleagues, Wood and Spranger, who left for Salonika to embark for Brindisi. We Italians went to Budapest and on December 18th we crossed the borders of our country after more than sixteen months of absence’.

The collection is mainly made up of European mapping, with a number for the Mont-Blanc and Swiss Alps regions. There are also two beautiful photographic panoramas, one of which is of the Gornergrat region, in the Pennie Alps of Switzerland. The panorama is too long to show well, but here’s an extract that includes the Matterhorn

Zermatt, panorama vom Gornergrat, c1930, C39:7 d.1

In 1924 J.A.S. travelled to Canada, and started climbing in the Cariboo Mountain range in British Columbia. He seems to have been the first to climb a peak called Flat Mountain as, soon after, this peak was renamed Mount Spranger by the Canadian Survey Department. During his time in British Columbia J.A.S. bought some maps of the Cariboo area which are in the donation and, more importantly, used his cartographic skills to make a couple of manuscript maps of the area. Here’s the official 1973 1:50,000 map showing Mount Spranger

and here’s the manuscript map by J.A.S. of the same area, with Flat Mtn. at top left.

Canada 1:50,000 sheet 94 A/15, 1973, F4 (21) and Sketch map of Mitchell Lake, c1924, MS F4:11 (241)

Finally an extract from the ‘Theodulpass’ sheet of the Topographischer Atlas der Schweiz’ 1;50,000 sheet (1944, C39:28 (21)) showing the Matterhorn, one of the highest mountains in Europe and also one of the deadliest of all climbs in terms of deaths in attempt of any in the World.        Proof, if still needed, of the beauty to be found in maps of mountains.

Adventures in maps

Many of the maps in our collections were made for, or about, travel. And even now in an age when we increasingly use satnavs or GPS to find our way, a map that you can hold in your hands has its own charm.  A recent Bodleian book, Adventures in maps, uses some of these to tell the stories of 20 different journeys, on foot, horseback, train, car, sailing ship and spacecraft. They include early sea charts and explorers’ maps, as well as maps marketed when travel became more widespread and commercial. The chart below shows mariners’ routes across the Southern Ocean, many of them following the traditional ‘Clipper route’ devised in the seventeenth century to take advantage of the most favourable winds. 

The dangers of sea travel are illustrated with a story by Basil Hall, a Lieutenant aboard the British frigate Endymion, who took part in the first recorded landing on Rockall in  October 1811. Rockall, an isolated rocky islet in the North Atlantic, is over 300 km from the nearest inhabited land, the Scottish island of St Kilda. The Endymion dropped off an exploring party in two small boats, and as the sailors recorded and sketched the island, they failed to notice for some time that a slight haze was gathering on the sea. Once they realised that their ship was becoming invisible in the mist, they hastily, and with some difficulty, got everyone down from the steep rock and into the small boats. But by then it was too late; their ship was out of sight in the fog. Despite some alarming experiences everyone was eventually rescued. On the same voyage they also rescued a party of survivors from a shipwreck, including several women and children, who were trying to reach land with only oars and an improvised sail; their prospects would have been poor if the Endymion had not come to their help. The chart illustrated here was made over 100 years later but makes clear both the inaccessibility of Rockall and the fact that the sea around it was still barely surveyed. It includes a drawing of Rockall as seen from the sea which emphasises its inaccessibility.Over the next few decades increasing numbers of people had the opportunity to travel. Thomas Cook organised the first package tour in July 1841, buying train tickets in bulk at a discount for 500 people travelling from Leicester to Loughborough for a temperance meeting and celebrations. A contemporary railway map in an unusual style, printed white on black, accompanies a guide to the line.

Cook went on to organise similar train trips locally, and within 10 years was taking tourists to the Scottish Highlands, and within twenty to France and Switzerland. By the 1870s Cook’s Tours had reached the Nile, and trips to North America soon followed. By this time there was plenty of competition as the idea of mass tourism took off. But Cook was the pioneer, and his company continued until the early twenty-first century.

The book also includes maps made by explorers showing their routes, such as the one made by a companion of the archaeologist David George Hogarth, travelling through Anatolia in 1894. It shows the places where they crossed the Euphrates in a terrifyingly leaky ferry and, later, forded one of its tributaries guided by a local man who took an apparently random route to avoid quicksand. Hogarth published an account of the expedition, his experiences and the archaeological finds.

You can read more in Adventures in maps, available from the Bodleian book shop.

Eastern hemisphere. From Philips’ centenary mercantile marine atlas London: George Philip, 1935. 2021 a.34.

Inset showing Rockall. From [Chart of the N.W. Coast of Scotland, including Faeroe Island & Orkney & Shetland Islands.] London: Imray, Laurie, Norie & Wilson, 1917. C18:3 (1)

Plan of the Midland counties railway. From A guide or companion to the Midland counties railway Leicester: Tebbutt, 1840. G.A. Gen. top. 8° 458

Detail from Mr Hogarth’s route from Khalfat to Malatia  / F.W. Green, 1895. MS D30:8 (2)

Les cartes olympiques de Paris

Hosting the Olympic Games is a huge task for even the largest and most seasoned of cities, requiring years of careful logistical planning. However, hosting the Games also presents a cartographic challenge, with transport alterations and dozens of temporary venues rendering ordinary city maps inadequate for visitors. Special maps are often commissioned by upcoming hosts, allowing easy navigation by the influx of international travellers. Such event maps are ephemeral by definition, but many are preserved in our collections (you can read more about our collection of Olympic maps here).

As the XXXIII Olympiad draws to a close in Paris, we’ve taken a look back through our collection of maps made for the three Games held in the French capital to date; in 1900, 1924, and 2024.

The 1900 Olympics coincided with the Exposition Universelle, a world’s fair which attracted some 48 million visitors to Paris over a seven-month period. The Parisian publishing house Garnier Frères published this map of the exhibition sites, which clustered around a central portion of the River Seine. It features an overview map alongside four enlarged insets which show the details of the exhibition displays.

Plan de l’exposition universelle de 1900 (1900), C21:50 Paris (8)

Detail showing the Grand Palais and Petit Palais, which were built especially for the event. C21:50 Paris (8)

Foreign publishers also took advantage of the event, with Edinburgh-based W. & A.K. Johnston Ltd. publishing this map for an Anglophone audience. The Johnston map incorporates three different scales on one sheet; the exhibition sites, central Paris, and the whole of France.

W. & A.K. Johnston’s plan of Paris, and Exhibition, and map of France (1900), C21:50 Paris (14)

Detail of the River Seine, showing the ‘foreign section’ and the artistic exhibitions. The river itself hosted the Olympic rowing, swimming, and water polo events in 1900. C21:50 Paris (14)

The first operational part of the Paris Metro opened part way through the 1900 Olympics, but its rapid expansion in the following decades meant that it played a more significant role in subsequent Games. This 1922 map by A. Taride uses a red overprint on a street plan to highlight the lines that would have been at the disposal of visitors to the 1924 Olympics, incorporating the competing Métropolitain and Nord-Sud networks, which did not merge into a unified system until 1930. The centrepiece of the 1924 Games was the Yves du Manoir Stadium in Colombes, which hosted nine sports, in addition to the Opening Ceremony. However, neither the Metro system or Taride’s map extend as far north west as Colombes.

Nouveau plan de Paris avec toutes les lignes du métropolitain et du nord-sud (1922), C21:50 Paris (47)

Detail of the area around the Champs-Élysées and Place de la Concorde, showing the convergence of Metro lines. C21:50 Paris (47)

One hundred years later, the 2024 Games opened in a very different, digital world. This time, organisers have launched a specially designed mobile app which provides dynamic navigation instructions using real-time data to flexibly disperse crowds and ease congestion. Alongside this high-tech solution, the organisers have also provided an outage-proof paper map, which joins our collection hot off the press. While 2024 marks the third time Paris has hosted the Olympic Games, it is the first time that the city has hosted the Paralympic Games, with the map designed to cater for both events.

The Yves du Manoir Stadium reprises its Olympic role as the venue of the hockey tournaments, but once again does not appear within the main map frame, which only includes central Paris. However, the Grand Palais, built for the 1900 exposition, does feature; this time as the Olympic and Paralympic venue for fencing and taekwondo — as well as a cameo in the Opening Ceremony, during which La Marseillaise was performed from its rooftop.

Paris 2024 : plan des transports publics (2024), C21:50 Paris (219)

Produced by Lyon-based firm Latitude-Cartagène (which specialises in event mapping), the Paris 2024 map draws on OpenStreetMap data and, like Taride’s map, focuses on public transport. The map tackles the unenviable design challenge of combining a street plan and extensive transit map with station closure information, 17 Olympic venues, and the locations of the city’s permanent tourist highlights. With an audience travelling from over 200 countries, the cartographer’s brief is made harder by having to avoid any culture-specific conventions or language. All the while, the map must be sympathetic to the Paris 2024 branding style — an important commercial aspect of a modern Games — as well as that of the regional public transport authority, Île-de-France Mobilités. Using a pastel base map, minimal text, pictorial symbols, and a broad colour palette for the thematic content, it clears these hurdles with gold medal-worthy clarity.

A plan of the River Calder…

This map shows that, leading up to and during the Industrial Revolution, the improving of rivers for navigation went in tandem with the more celebrated building of canals. The noted engineer and surveyor John Smeaton (1724-1792) has made a map of part of the River Calder from just south of Halifax to Wakefield, listing along the route with variations of capital and lowercase letters the owners of the land,  the places marked for some form of navigational work (mainly locks and bridges) and mill owners.

A plan of the River Calder from Wakefield to Brooksmouth and from hence to Salter Hebble Bridge, laid down from a survey taken  in October and November 1757, with a projection for continuing the navigation from Wakefield to Salter Hebble Bridge near Halifax in the County of York by John Smeaton. 1757. (E) C17 (451) [17]

The whole amounts to a beautifully drawn and engraved map of the river at the start of the Industrial Revolution, and, with it’s listing of owners of lands and mills, a nice glimpse into Yorkshire life around 1757, a glimpse increased by the depictions of the towns and villages along the way, including the important wool town of Halifax. The map is both a plan of the river and a proposal for changes to the river to aid navigation, hence the claiming to be both a map of the river from Wakefield of Salter Hebble Bridge as well as a ‘projection for continuing the navigation…’ between the two. It’s nice to be able to note that the instrument maker Jesse Ramsden was born in Salter Hebble (now Salterhebble Bridge and part of Halifax) in 1735. Ramsden made the theodolite used by General Roy in the triangulation of Britain.

The left and right of the map in more detail.

The way the Calder links up with the other river and canal systems in the area can be seen on this map.

With A map of the existing navigations of Yorkshire… from 1819 ((E) C17:63 (31)) all the smaller rivers merge with larger waterways, eventually joining the Humber and from there the North Sea. The industrial importance of the area can be seen by the reference to local industry; coal, iron, waste, lime and chace (a form of metal working) and the map is, like the main map in this blog, a proposal for a new waterway, in this instance the Went Canal, though a proposal that seems not to have come to anything as the Went doesn’t appear on subsequent Ordnance Survey maps.

Smeaton was an important figure in the history of surveying and engineering. Born in Leeds in 1724 after working in law and as an instrument maker by the time of this map he was working on the use and working of watermills. This led to the creation of an equation named after him, the ‘Smeaton coefficient’ which dealt with the power of wind and water to turn wheels in mills, and was used by Orville and Wilbur Wright when they designed and flew the first motor-driven aeroplane, the Wright Flyer, in 1903.

Smeaton’s fame is based on a large number of civil engineering works, including the third Eddystone lighthouse, numerous bridges including those over the Tweed, Perth and Hexham as well as a number of harbours, including this one at Ramsgate, from a map made by Smeaton a few years before he died.

Plan of Ramsgate Harbour and principal works thereof 1790. (E) C17 (451) [63]

The two maps by Smeaton come from a volume of plans and maps of English navigational waterways spanning two hundred years, from the early 1600s to the early 1800s. The collection has the rather appropriate overall title of ‘The Cutt’.

On the road

As a general rule we do not fold our atlases in half. It would be bad for them, and probably quite difficult. This is a rare example of an atlas that was designed to be folded in half.

It’s an early road atlas to be carried while travelling. When the soft, rather tattered brown leather covers are opened, it reveals that a previous owner has made some notes of place names and distances in the inside of the cover.

The book itself could be folded or rolled, making it smaller and more portable. It is Thomas Kitchin’s Post-chaise companion, and dates from 1767. It has clearly grown accustomed to being folded in half, as can be seen from the weights required to hold it open for photography:

The very earliest road atlases date from the seventeenth century. Previously travellers relied on road books, lists of names that would enable them to ask the way from one town to the next. Arguably the first road atlas was produced by Matthew Simmons in the 1630s, with triangular distance tables (like those sometimes found in modern road atlases) and very tiny maps. The big innovation was John Ogilby’s Britannia in 1675, which used strip maps to show the major roads throughout Great Britain in unprecedented detail; this design continued to be copied for over a century, as can be seen here. Britannia was however a large volume, too bulky to transport easily.

Perhaps surprisingly, it was around fifty years after the publication of Britannia before smaller, more portable versions were produced, and then rival versions by three different publishers appeared around the same time in the 1720s; one of these, by Emanuel Bowen, was reissued in multiple editions into the 1760s. Thomas Kitchin, who produced this work, had been apprenticed to Bowen, and had married Bowen’s daughter before setting up as an independent mapmaker, embarking on a long, prolific and successful career, and being appointed Hydrographer to George III.

Although many road atlases of this period survive, the binding is what makes this one unusual. Its appearance caused a certain amount of excitement in the Map Room as some of us had heard of road atlases being made to this design, but had never seen one before. Unsurprisingly the soft backed versions are less likely to have survived, being less robust and more heavily used than the hardbacks. The fact that this one has the notes relating to a previous owner’s journeys makes it additionally interesting.

Kitchin’s post-chaise companion, through England and Wales; containing all the ancient and new additional roads… by Thomas Kitchin. London: John Bowles, Carington Bowles and Robert Sayer, 1767. Map Res. 3

Further information can be found in County atlases of the British Isles, by Donald Hodson. Vol. 1. Welwyn: Tewin Press, 1984.

Maps for the Aironauts…engravings by the best masters

At twenty minutes to two on the afternoon of the 8th September 1785 Mr Thomas Baldwin, to the ‘tears of delight and apprehension, the misgivings of humanity, and other sensations of surprize’ of the inhabitants of Chester took flight in a hot air balloon. Ascending to a height of four miles over Chester Baldwin was able to look down on the earth, a true birds-eye view. He wrote of his adventures in a book published the following year, Airopaidia : or aerial recreation, describing the voyage as well as giving a detailed account of the preparation involved in the flight (for instance a canon was fired at 7 am to let people know that the balloon was being inflated), the equipment taken onboard (as well as ballast brandy and feathers to throw out at various times to check wind speed and direction), and, rather worryingly, what to do if you start to descend too quickly. Baldwin also included some lovely original maps showing the views from above the clouds.

This has to be one of the earliest maps to include clouds over the land. The first manned balloon flight was only two years earlier in France, with the first in Britain almost exactly a year before Baldwin’s ascent so Baldwin was one of the earliest to see the earth partly obscured in this way. In the bottom left corner is Chester (‘the gay scene was a fairy-land, with Chester Lilliput‘) with the River Mersey snaking along from right to left. Imposed over everything is a twisting black line showing the route the balloon took over the Cheshire countryside. The maps are beautifully drawn, fully deserving the praise given them in the book, ‘Descriptions of the aerial scenes are illustrated with engravings, by the best masters; two of which are coloured‘. The engraver is named as Angus, a name not listed in map engravers and map-makers dictionaries held at the Bodleian but is possibly William Angus (1752-1821), who specialized in plates for books and prints working out of Islington.

On the next page the book does something rather clever. There is another map, this time a topographic map of the same area naming features not hidden by the cloud-cover but with the same route shown. Both the coloured view and the black and white map are folded, but the black and white map is on an extended piece of paper, meaning that you can have both open at the same time and compare the same area side-by-side, like this

The obvious advantages to cartography from balloon flights came just at the wrong time. Triangulation surveying had recently been introduced to Britain from France, and despite the efforts involved in first of all measuring out an accurate base-line then surveying across the country from this point the results produced maps of sufficient accuracy to make this the favoured method of map-making. Balloons though wouldn’t be forgotten, and were used to survey enemy positions in the early days of the First World War. Where the balloon did give an advantage was in the drawing of panoramas. The ability to draw an oblique view of a town or city was established well before balloon flights (see here) but these maps were drawn from low down, meaning that the buildings nearest the cartographer were given more prominence. The extra height gained from the balloon meant that a greater area could be shown as the angle of the observation was greater, and the area observed was greater. This can be seen to great effect in this wonderful ‘Balloon map of London’

C17:70 London (327), 1859

Despite a balloon appearing at the top of the map the view taken is from the north, with south of the river disappearing into the distance, suggesting this is the viewpoint from another balloon. The balloon featured is a nice bit of decoration in keeping with the theme of the map.

We’ve blogged about clouds on maps before, in this case their use in wartime deception here and balloons featured in an earlier blog here

Our blogs are usually written after either coming across a map that sparks our interest or of reading of one in a book or journal. In this case the latter, Baldwin’s flight and maps are mentioned in Rachel Hewitt’s excellent biography of the Ordnance Survey, ‘Map of a Nation’.

Airopaida : containing the narrative of a balloon excursion…198 e.80. 1786

Road maps, but not as you’d imagine

Two contrasting road maps from the early to mid 1700s. One, by ‘Emanuel Bowen, Geographer to his most Sacred Majesty K. George the 2nd’ is straightforward. By including approximate coastlines and county boundaries Bowen is able to map roads in a conventional way, as in they go where you’d imagine them to.

A new and accurate maps of the roads of England, 1748. Gough Maps England & Wales 29

This certainly isn’t the case with the second map. George Wildey, selling prints and maps from the ‘west end of St. Paul’s Churchyard’,  sets out in linear form a guide which ignores the natural curves of the roads shown and includes in order the towns passed through on main and side routes. The map also includes information on market days, distances between towns and if the town or city has a special status (university, post town, bishopric).  With it’s straight lines it could almost be a map of the Roman roads.

The grand roads of England c1720. Gough Maps England & Wales 18

Bowen shows things geographically and with roads crossing over other roads, as they do on the ground, meaning locations aren’t forced to appear out of place. On the Wildey map because of the rigid need to show things in a straight line and to keep things as clear as possible locations, especially in the crowded western side of the map, are forced into strange places. Wildey also doesn’t show distances between places, instead he gives an idea only by the miles between one location and the next. Take Bristol. This busy port appears as expected on a route coming west out of London which when it gets to the city branches out to Exeter and Banbury. Bristol also appears at the top left, at the end of a route that leaves Chester travelling south through Ludlow and Hereford. This Bristol is located on the map between Hollyhead and Hollywell (Holyhead and Holywell) in North Wales. Gloucester as well crops up in a few stranger places, and again it’s when side routes branch out from hub cities. Wildey’s map becomes less a cartographic object and more an itinerary, a list showing to get here you need to first go here, and here, and here.

According to the text in the cartouche Bowen’s map is made ‘according to Ogilby’s survey’. This is the famous  set of maps published in 1675 by John Ogilby. We blogged about his remarkable life, the maps that made him famous and the possible hidden agenda behind them here http://blogs.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/maps/2020/11/12/measuring-distances-a-wheel-or-a-chain/ 

Bowen’s map does include some cartographic peculiarities. Shipping routes across the Channel to join up with Calais and Helevoet Sluys (now Hellevoetsluis, South Holland) show as if they are roads across the sea, in the case of Calais an early taster for a later tunnel under the water. Bowen also includes notes on features to look out for when travelling, ‘Remarkable things worthy a curious traveller’s observations on some of the principal roads described in this map’. For instance, ‘Near Basingstoke is Basing House belonging to the D. of Bolton. Tis famous in history for withstanding several sieges in the beginning of the Civil War till at last was taken in storm by Cromwell and burnt. His being enraged at the words LOVE LOYALTY wrote with a dyamond in all its windows’.

Wildey’s map appears confusing and unconventional but the theory behind it is good and has survived today in maps which show information such as travel routes where the need to give clear information overrides any need for geographical accuracy. The most famous example being also one of the most used maps to have been published, the London Underground map.