Maps and views blog

Cartographic perspectives from our Map Librarians


Our earliest map appears on a coin made in the Roman Empire and our latest appears as pixels on a computer screen. In between we have the most complete set of Ordnance Survey maps of Great Britain, the grand collection of an 18th-century king, secret maps made by the Soviet army as well as the British government, and a book that stands taller than the average person. Read more

04 July 2020

Help us choose the British Library's favourite world map

World maps are amazing things for their ability to conceptualise the earth and capture it in miniature. Of course, this comes at a price. World maps, perhaps more than any other 'image,' are powerful and subjective. Each one contains a particular world view, and throughout history they, or rather their makers, have tended use them to impose their views upon others. Who is at the world's centre? Who is relegated to the margins? Who is shrunken in size, and who is removed from the map all together? 

So it's a strange quirk of history that  during the 20th century, that most antagonistic of eras, the world map came to be seen as a symbol of co-operation, togetherness, shared heritage and environmental awareness (thanks in no small part to NASA's famous 1968 Earthrise photograph of our vulnerable planet hanging in the void). As a result, a world map is now capable of saying “we’re all in it together”. It’s World Population Day on Saturday 11 July, so let's attempt to reclaim some of that spirit.

I'd like to invite you to help us choose the British Library’s favourite world map.  Over the next week I’m going to introduce sixteen of the most extraordinary and groundbreaking world maps from between the 11th and 20th centuries, carefully selected from the British Library’s collection of over 4 million maps

The maps will be arranged into 4 groups, with one Twitter poll per day (Monday to Thursday) deciding which two maps from each group will go through to the quarter finals on Friday. The semi finals and final poll will happen on Saturday,  and we’ll think up something special for the winner. Follow us @BLMaps, hashtag #BLWorldMapWorldCup.

What selection criteria might you use? Well, did the map capture some signal shift in civilisation? Is it unique, beautiful, technically accomplished or cleverly made? Or do you just like it because you like it? That’s valid too.

Hopefully through this just-for-fun competition it will be possible to appreciate the history of a world of multiple viewpoints; and, though it won't be easy, to begin to rediscover ones which have been erased. 

Tom Harper

02 July 2020

An Atlas of the Himalayas by a 19th Century Tibetan Lama: A Journey of Discovery

A guest post by Dr Diana Lange of the Institute for Asian- and African Studies, Humboldt-Universität zu Berlin

In the late 1960s the former British Indian diplomat and Tibetologist Hugh Richardson noticed a collection of maps and drawings in the India Office Library. These were catalogued as the ‘Wise Albums’(Add. Or. 3013–43), but the circumstances of the origin of this collection were unrecorded. A typewritten note stated that the drawings appeared to be by a Tibetan artist, probably a lama, who had contact with Europeans, and that they appeared to have been commissioned by the writer of the accompanying explanatory texts. The maps and drawings were dated between 1844 and 1862, while the bindings were dated late 19th century and inscribed with the name ‘Wise’. This was the start of the long search for “Wise,” who was finally identified in the late 1990s as Thomas Alexander Wise (1802–1889), a Scottish polymath and collector who served in the Indian Medical Service in Bengal in the first half of the nineteenth century. It can be said with confidence that while the collection was named after Wise, he was not the one who commissioned the maps and drawings.

Add.Or 3016 f.2
This map shows the town of Shigatse in Central Tibet with Tashilhunpo Monastery in the centre. Numerous other monasteries are depicted, as well as settlements and rivers. Travel routes are indicated in grey colour. (BL Add. Or. 3016, f.2)

Several scholars who undertook research on the Wise Collection in the past all attempted, without success, to trace the origin of the collection. Most recently, the historian and Tibetologist Michael Aris dealt with the Wise Collection before his death in 1999, again without being able to trace its origins.

Michael Aris noted that the Wise Collection “may represent the most ambitious pictorial survey of Tibetan topography and culture ever attempted by a local artist.” This ambition is reflected in six large picture maps. Placed side by side, five of these picture maps add up to a 15-metre-long panorama showing the west-east route between Leh in Ladakh and Lhasa, and the north-south route leading from Lhasa southwards to Bhutan and today’s Arunachal Pradesh in northeast India. The maps are accompanied by 28 related drawings showing detailed illustrations of selected monasteries, monastic rituals, wedding ceremonies, ethnic groups and other topics. Altogether there are more than 900 numbered annotations on the drawings. Explanatory notes referring to these numbers were written in English on 24 separate sheets of paper, with a total of around 7,500 words.

I first encountered the original maps and drawings in the summer of 2009 during a visit to the British Library. I remember that I was so overwhelmed by the quality and quantity of the material, by the beauty and vivid colour of the illustrations and by the map maker’s attention to details – that I decided, still in the Prints and Drawings Room – to work on the collection and to follow Michael Aris’ giant footsteps.

Add.Or 3018 f.4
This map with Tibetan captions shows the northern part of the Zangskar Valley in today’s India in the Western Himalayas. The town of Padum with the old castle is shown on the left, the famous Sani Monastery is depicted on the map’s right side, surrounded by a wall. Different bridges are shown as well as small settlements. (BL Add. Or. 3018, f.4)

Being trained in Tibetology I focused in the beginning on the stories in the maps and drawings – hundreds of little details – and on a new research field: history of cartography. Toby Lester, in presenting his research on the ‘Waldseemüller map’ – the map that gave America its name – stated: “The map draws you in, reveals itself in stages, and doesn’t let go.” (Lester 2009: xxi).This certainly proved true for me and the maps of the Wise Collection. Some of them reveal themselves more easily than others. In drawing the maps, the lama produced a visual account of his travel route, which was more than 1,800km in length. Furthermore, he addressed a range of topics in the accompanying drawings that represent an overwhelming wealth of information on Tibet and the Western Himalayas.

In studying the material, I developed both a feeling for the lama’s drawing style and an understanding of his way of thinking. The so-called ‘scale’ used in the maps is not uniform, nor is their orientation. As a result, many people who look at the maps comment that they are ‘wrong’. While the maps might not always seem ‘accurate’ from a Western scientific point of view, they can give much information about their maker. Shrunk to the dimension of the maps and ignoring scale and cardinal orientation, one could virtually walk through the landscape along the travel route shown on the maps. The mapmaker travelled along this route, familiarizing himself with topographical and infrastructural characteristics, which in turn he depicted on the maps. From our present point of view – being able to benefit from geographical knowledge in the age of Google Earth – it is easy to recognize that specific waterways or mountain ranges run parallel to each other. The lama who made the maps in the Wise Collection did not have access to this information. But that does not mean that his representation of Tibet and the Himalayas is less ‘accurate’. He produced the largest panoramic map of Tibet of its time, based on the knowledge available at that time and based on his personal life experience.

The longer I studied the material and the deeper I understood the collection as a whole, the more new questions emerged. I grew increasingly interested in the story of the collection, and I wanted to understand more than just the maps. I sought to find out about the milieu in which they were drawn, and how and why they came into being. In March 2016, after years of research, I finally found the name of the man who commissioned them. It was William Edmund Hay (1805-1879), former Assistant Commissioner of Kullu in the Western Himalayas. Around 150 years after the maps were commissioned by Hay and created by the Tibetan lama, I was able to add this fundamental piece of information to what was known about the Wise Collection.

Add.Or 3017.f.1
This map with Tibetan and English captions shows the Kyichu Valley east of Lhasa in Central Tibet. Several monasteries are shown in great detail. Travel routes are indicated in white colour, the little boats in the lower left corner represent a ferry station. (BL Add. Or. 3017, f.1)

Like many other mapmakers and painters, the man who made the maps in the Wise Collection has remained anonymous. He was a Tibetan lama from Central Tibet and he had in-depth local knowledge about many of the places he depicted. He was clearly experienced in drawing and he was familiar with Tibetan cartography and visual representation of different elements of Tibetan environment and society. As an educated lama, he was trained to memorize texts and, as testified by the Wise Collection, he was gifted with an uncommon visual memory. We do not know with certainty why the lama shared his knowledge of Tibet and his travel routes with Hay, especially at a time when the door to Tibet was closed to foreigners. With his maps and drawings, the lama opened this door, first for Hay and later for many other people. He opened a door into a time long gone, and this has given us the chance to experience what Michal Aris called a “unique view from within” (Aris, 1992: 126).

Very often, books represent just the results of research gathered over the years. However, with my publication An Atlas of the Himalayas by a 19th Century Tibetan Lama: A Journey of Discovery I aim for several goals. As the result of a collaborative project between two people from different cultural backgrounds, the Wise Collection represents a “visible history” of the exploration of Tibet. My intention is thus not only to introduce the collection and the stories in the maps and drawings, but also the story of the collection: the people involved in the creation process, the collection’s journey from India to – and then within – Great Britain, and also the tracing of the collection’s origin. My research on the Wise Collection was comparable to a detective story, and I also want to share this tale with the reader. I very much hope that the book will present my work in a meaningful way to an audience beyond Tibetologists. The book’s subtitle – Journey of Discovery – refers to different journeys that intersect as if it was all one big journey over two centuries, including the lama’s journey, Hay’s journey, the collection’s journey to Great Britain and my own journey of research.

Diana Lange  An atlas of the Himalayas cover
Lange, Diana. 2020. An Atlas of the Himalayas by a 19th Century Tibetan Lama: A Journey of Discovery. Leiden: Brill.

Aris, Michael. 1992. “The Buddhist Monasteries and Rituals of Tibet: A Unique View from Within.” Himalaya, the Journal of the Association for Nepal and Himalayan Studies 12, no. 1: 126.

Lester, Toby. 2009. The Fourth Part of the World: An Astonishing Epic of Global Discovery, Imperial Ambition, and the Birth of America. New York: Free Press.

Schwartzberg, Joseph E. 1994. “Maps of Greater Tibet.” The History of Cartography. Vol. 2, Book 2. Cartography in the Traditional East and Southeast Asian Societies, eds. J.B. Harley and David Woodward, 607–681. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press.


30 June 2020

Potosí, the celebrated city

Have you ever heard of Potosí? Or perhaps wondered what is so special about this Bolivian city that it appeared on the early maps of South America alongside the views of well-known places like Havana, Rio de Janeiro and Mexico City? Most atlases produced from the mid-16th to 19th century included a map or an image with a description of this place, but why?

The reason that Potosí was put on the maps is rather extraordinary – in 1545 the Spanish conquistadors discovered the world’s richest silver deposits there. Within three decades a small mining settlement at the foot of the Andean Potosí Mountain in the Viceroyalty of Peru (present day Bolivia) was to become one of the world’s wealthiest cities with a population of over 160,000 surpassing that of Rome, Madrid or London at the time.

Blaeu Americae nova Tabula

Americæ nova tabula by Willem Blaeu, features views of famous cities along the top. Amsterdam, 1631. Maps 9.Tab.15,16.  Image: Wikimedia Commons

Potosí was the city with truly global impact. The vast deposits extracted from the Potosí Mountain also known as Cerro Rico (Rich Hill) provided over half of the world’s silver supply. Coins struck in the Potosí Royal Mint were in circulation worldwide reaching Asia and the Far East where they were readily accepted in exchange for oriental commodities such as silk, spices and porcelain. This sudden influx of silver revolutionized the world’s economy and many historians trace the beginning of the global economy back to Potosí’s silver boom. The city was so famous for its extraordinary wealth that its name became synonymous to richness and enormous value, so much so that even the expression valor de Potosí (meaning ‘worth of Potosí’) made its way into everyday language and is still used in modern Spanish. 

As with most other influential wealthy cities it was portrayed on countless maps. Topographical views of Potosí provide a glimpse of the industrial infrastructure in the area with a network of hydraulic ore-grinding mills shown in the background. The views are often accompanied by a short description of the mines which marvel over the seemingly limitless silver deposits and astonishing quantities of produced ore.

Maps C.24.aa.21

The Silver Mine of Potozi London, Phillip Lea, around 1700. Maps C.24.aa.21. 

A chart of South America Mount&Page

A chart of South America from the River Real to Cape Horn showing the Potosí Mountain within otherwise empty interior. Published in Atlas Maritimus Novus or the New Sea Atlas. London, R. Mount and T. Page, 1708. Maps C.27.g.1. Image courtesy of the John Carter Brown Library

In order to extract and process the silver an enormous work force was required. The descriptive texts often quote that over 20,000 workers were ‘employed’ in the mines with no mention of the slavery, exploitation and the enormous human cost this lucrative enterprise involved. The contemporary authors of the time remain silent about the brutal conditions, the forced labour inflicted upon the indigenous population and the huge numbers of slaves brought from Africa and transported overland from Buenos Aires which was one of trading stations of the South Sea Company (a British enterprise trading slaves to the Spanish colonies in the Caribbean and South America). Hundreds of thousands of people perished in the Potosí mines during the colonial era due to exhaustion, accidents, gas and mercury poisoning. The celebrated mountain was dubbed the Mountain That Eats Men.

Maps C.46.f.12.

Map of South America by Herman Moll with an inset view of Potosi,. The map also indicates location of ‘The Great Mines of Potosi’. London, after 1714. Maps C.46.f.12. 

By the end of the 18th century the quantity of silver extracted from the mines of Potosí had diminished with most of the good ore exhausted. According to A Gazetteer of the World by the 1850s the city was a shadow of its former self with the population reduced to 14,000. The Potosí Mountain didn’t even make it to the List of the Principal Mountains on the Augustus Petermann's Peru-Bolivian Tablelands map issued with the Gazetteer. Potosí, once an influential city and the backbone of the Spanish Empire’s economy fell into decay and lost its prominent place on maps almost as quickly as it appeared in the 16th century.

10003.w.6 p.16
Peru-Bolivian Tablelands map … by Augustus Petermann published in A Gazetteer of the World, or, Dictionary of geographical knowledge ... Edited by a member of the Royal Geographical Society. Edinburgh & London, A. Fullarton, 1850-57. 10003.w.6.