Archive for the 'Bigger Picture' category

Bartholomew, Biscuits and the First World War

Posted 24 January, 2014 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

As the Project that brings you these posts is due to end in March of this year, I wanted to share with you, whilst I can, some of the more unexpected items I have found in the Printing Record from the First World War.

Like many of us perhaps, my understanding of this brutal conflict is largely derived from the jerky black and white film footage of the trenches and No Man’s Land and the haunting poetry of the time. So, imagine my surprise to discover that for some, this War was also something of a marketing opportunity.

cracker map advertisinf

This attractive item was printed by Bartholomew on 24th November, 1916 for the Leith and Liverpool-based biscuit manufacturer, William Crawford & Sons, Ltd. However, it was not the first thing Bartholomew printed for Crawford; some two years earlier they printed this map.

cracker map.1

Bartholomew printed 50,000 copies of this map on 8th September, 1914. It is a fairly standard Bartholomew map of Europe but repurposed here as advertising for Crawford’s Cream Crackers and branded as ‘Crawford’s War Map’. There’s even room for a little boasting about their biscuits.

cracker map logo

However, it would be entirely unfair to Crawfords to suggest that they alone exploited this opportunity, as another item printed by Bartholomew proves.

carcker map soap

Yes, Sunlight Soap were at it too with Bartholomew producing 25,000 copies of this map on 21 October, 1914.

That maps such as these exist certainly surprised me but perhaps they begin to make sense when considered in context. The Crawford map was published only five weeks after the official outbreak of the War and the Sunlight map came six weeks later. Both maps, then, were produced very early on in the War, a period typically characterised by the belief the War would be ‘over by Christmas’ and volunteering to sign up was still prevalent. So, rather than cynically exploiting the War perhaps these maps reveal something of the confidence that was felt during the first few weeks of the conflict. I find this an interesting perspective. With our benefit of hindsight we can only ever perceive the First World War with the burden of knowing how it unfolded and the horrors that were to come. It is easy to forget that this wasn’t the case for those who lived through it. The tragedy we attach to the First World War sits in stark contrast with the enthusiasm, naivety and matter-of-fact-ness of those who were entering the unknown, a bit of which is captured in maps like these.

Mapping Language

Posted 10 September, 2013 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

A small but significant part of Bartholomew’s printed output consisted of thematic mapping. Thematic maps are used to illustrate the distribution of phenomena, as opposed to the more common topographical map, which is an attempt to reproduce a landscape. Bartholomew’s Printing Record includes thematic maps which show average levels of sunshine, average levels of cloudiness, the distribution of cases of pulmonary tuberculosis and even the cost of posting letters throughout the world. This post is devoted to a different type of thematic map, to language, or linguistic maps.

linguistic Europe

According to ‘Cartographical Innovations’ (1987), an informative book edited by Helen Wallis and Arthur Robinson, the first set of linguistic maps that we would recognise as such date from 1741. Produced by Gottfried Hensel, the four maps of continents show the distribution of written languages. However, it wasn’t until the early part of the nineteenth century that this sort of mapping really took off. By the end of the century, and continuing into the twentieth century, Bartholomew began to produce linguistic maps of their own.

linguistic North America

Bartholomew printed the map of European languages (at the top of the page) on the 28 March, 1931 and the above map, ‘Linguistic Stocks of Indians North of Mexico’, on the 18 August, 1927. The latter is an extremely informative map, showing a particularly complex mix of languages along the west coast of the United States and into Canada.

linguistic North America cropped

Because of the specialist nature of maps like these they were typically destined for specialist publications. Some provided a diversion from the more traditional mapping in general atlases; others supplemented an almost overwhelming amount of information in school atlases whilst others still accompanied papers in specialist publications.

It’s perhaps fair to say that some took the subject more seriously than others. Bartholomew printed a small number of maps for what was known as the Serial Map Service, in the 1940s. They include the map of Central and South America below.

linguistic South America

The Serial Map Service titles are a visually appealing set of maps, but their charm only shines through under closer inspection.

linguistic Central America cropped

Whilst it might be charming, the ability of this map to convey the linguistic information it intended is perhaps debatable.

As well as showing linguistic information for whole continents, these maps could be used to convey the same information for individual countries equally well.

linguisitc india

Bartholomew printed this linguistic map of India on the 6 March, 1940. India also happens to be one of the few markets for which Bartholomew actively produced atlases in native dialect and language groups.

The final map in this sequence was produced by a particular favourite of this blog; the incomparable, the inimitable, Sir Harry H. Johnston. For those not up to speed with Sir Harry, his exploits have been previously recorded in The Empire Strikes Back and Explorations in Equatorial Africa.

linguistic Uganda

Johnston was a naturally gifted linguist and he made a genuine contribution to the field through his study of, and the subsequent publication of his book, the ‘Comparative Study of the Bantu and Semi-Bantu Languages’ (1919). This particular map was printed on the 28 April, 1902, for another book entitled ‘The Uganda Protectorate’. Uganda is part of the extensive area of Africa where Bantu languages and dialects are spoken. The sheer scale of Sir Harry’s work is very neatly demonstrated through both the map and its key.

linguistic Uganda cropped

Bartholomew printed a wide variety of linguistic maps. Some could be academically rigorous, whereas others appear to be for fun. Regardless, the mapping of language, of voices, subtly reminds us of one thing; language plays a fundamental role in giving us a sense of place.

Map compilation at Bartholomew

Posted 30 October, 2012 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

On the 7 December, 2012, our exhibition of Bartholomew Archive material will open in our George IV Bridge building. Putting Scotland on the Map: The World of John Bartholomew and Son will explore the techniques and processes by which Bartholomew brought their maps to life. By way of a little teaser, I would like to give you a small glimpse into the complex world of map compilation.

Photo of draughtsmen 1895

This photograph shows Bartholomew’s draughtsman in their Park Road office. It was taken in 1895 but it shows people performing tasks which, in many respects, changed little for the next 50 to 60 years.

Some map publishers, such as Ordnance Survey, conduct ground or aerial surveys to gather the information they need for their maps. Bartholomew gathered the information that they needed via a process called compilation. Compilation is where the draughtsman’s role began. This was but one of the many elements to the draughtsman’s role, which made it one of the most specialist positions in the firm.

Alex Williamson

Draughtsmen had a lot of different resources to hand when it came to compiling information. Bartholomew kept a vast collection of reference maps and atlases produced by their competitors such as Ordnance Survey. Although Bartholomew did not plagiarize these works, studying the maps of others could reveal changes to natural and man-made features that Bartholomew might chose to incorporate into their own maps. They also kept a large collection of newspaper clippings. Whenever a story touched upon a pertinent subject, such as the building of a new road, the demolition of a bridge or the redrawing of an international boundary, Bartholomew would cut out and keep the story for future reference. This article, which details the post-war changes to London following the Blitz, is a poignant example.

Times, 27 July 1944

But by far the biggest source of information was the vast amount of correspondence sent to Bartholomew every day. In some cases members of the public would volunteer information, sometimes including a hand-drawn map of their own, or an annotated clipping from one of Bartholomew’s maps. In other cases the relationship was more formal. This is perhaps best demonstrated by Bartholomew’s relationship with the Cyclist’s Touring Club.

The Cyclist’s Touring Club (CTC) was founded in 1878 and by the end of the 1890s boasted membership figures of close to 60,500. This then was a desirable market for Bartholomew, as CTC members actively sought useful, accurate and cycle friendly maps for their excursions. In 1898 John George Bartholomew (the firm’s director at the time) sought to capitalise on this market and wrote to the CTC’s Secretary with a proposal. Bartholomew would supply the CTC with discounted half inch maps but in return they requested that CTC members supplied the firm with up to date information. The benefit was therefore twofold; Bartholomew acquired a ready market for their maps but also, an army of thousands of people who toured the country and passed on information, for free, which the firm could then use to ensure their maps remained accurate. Although much of this correspondence is formal and business-like, some correspondents were a little more forthright, as this letter from 1915 demonstrates.

20 August 1915

Bartholomew derived similar information from local surveyors, town planners, planning departments and other like agencies, complementing the information they received from members of the public.

Once this information had been collected the draughtsmen would either update a base map, or draw a new map from scratch and the next stage of the draughtsman’s work would begin.

If you would like to know what happened next, why not pop by the National Library of Scotland and visit Putting Scotland on the Map: The World of John Bartholomew and Son, a free exhibition open from 7 December 2012-7 May 2013.

Images © permission of Collins Bartholomew

John Bartholomew Junior in the USA

Posted 14 September, 2012 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

This instalment of the countdown to our Bartholomew Archive exhibition turns its attention to the personal. The Bartholomew Archive is extraordinarily rich when it comes to reconstructing the production processes of John Bartholomew and Son, but it is no less rich when it comes to illuminating personal stories too.

John Bartholomew Junior (1831-1893) was the third generation of the Bartholomew family to take up engraving as a profession. John Junior benefited from the good reputation that his father and grandfather had earned for their skill and professionalism. He was thus able to build on this reputation and did so initially through a prestigious apprenticeship with the German geographer August Petermann (1822–78). Petermann came to Britain with new ideas and techniques and would go on to be appointed Physical Geographer and Engraver in Stone to the Queen. This small but significant detail laid the foundations for the great success the firm would go on to enjoy because in John Junior’s hands, the small engraving concern became a major engraving and printing house.

In 1885, John Junior and his travelling companion, Andrew McDonald, undertook a 22,886 mile, three month journey around North America. The principal aims of the trip were to foster new business connections and to gather information, and John Junior travelled with at least two endorsements to this end.

letter of recomendation by edinburghs merchants co

But it wasn’t all business and John Junior had many an opportunity to indulge in sightseeing and pleasure cruises. Mementoes from this trip even include two pressed flowers that John Junior picked at Glacier Point in Yosemite National Park. More examples of the colourful and interesting remnants of the trip can be seen below.

milwaukee lake postcard

No matter where he was on this mammoth tour, John Junior’s diary reveals that he couldn’t resist comparing almost everything that he saw to the more familiar landscapes of his native Scotland. So, for example, certain stretches of the Mississippi were “something like the width of the Clyde”, Telegraph Hill in San Francisco “looks as steep as the Calton Hill” and the Green River was compared to the Tay at Perth.

The trip can be considered a success if evidence from the firm’s Printing Record can be relied upon. At around this time there appears to be a marked increase in the orders Bartholomew received from North American publishing firms, including T Ellwood Zell and J B Lippincott. However, the trip was almost scuppered.

John Junior travelled from Liverpool on the S. S. “Germanic” on the 2 April 1885. The ship landed at Queenstown the next day. It collected some 300 sacks of mail then embarked again for the crossing of the Atlantic, heading to New York. The weather was set fair but on the night of the 3rd a storm set in. The storm lasted all of the next day and whilst John Junior “supposed this to be the usual experience of an Atlantic voyage” he couldn’t help but note that “the thundering of the waves against the ship was something awful”. It got worse. “At 10.30 there was a tremendous crash, a greater wave than the others having thundered over the vessel, carrying away 7 boats, 2 steam cranes…rails, deckchairs and everything movable on deck. One seaman was washed overboard and lost. The water rushed in torrents through the breach in the recreation room…then passed along the passages and into the passengers cabins, setting afloat books, shoes, boxes…About 13.00 Greenwich time an officer came round and began to screw down the iron shutters over the port hole windows…he said that the Captain had given orders to turn the ship and all the port holes had to be screwed down in case the windows would be broken and the sea burst into her broadside. This was not very comforting and we anxiously waited for the critical period to be passed”. The experience must have been terrifying. However, on the 7 April, five days after leaving Liverpool, the “Germanic” safely docked back into Queenstown harbour. John Junior later discovered that “the “Germanic” was 540 miles west of Queenstown when she encountered the wave, and that the cost of the accident to the White Star Line was £25,000″. This would equate to many millions of pounds in today’s money. Three days later, John Junior and Andrew set sail again, this time aboard the “Adriatic” and this time they made it to New York.

white starline passenger list cover

There are many more personal stories to be found in the Bartholomew Archive, some of them profoundly significant, some of them comical and some of them tragic. Join us from December-May to discover more of the personal stories of the Bartholomew firm and their amazing staff.

The Building of an Institution

Posted 13 August, 2012 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

The second instalment of our Bartholomew Archive Exhibition tasters looks back at one of the firm’s most recognisable premises – Duncan Street.


John George Bartholomew (1860-1920) moved his firm to Duncan Street in 1911. This was the fourth premises that John George would have been able to remember. He recalled the hustle and bustle of North Bridge, Bartholomew’s first commercial premises, which he experienced as a very small child. He undertook his apprenticeship at the firm’s next and first independent premises (North Bridge was shared) on Chambers Street. Then, as head of the firm, in 1889 he moved with the company to their biggest premises yet, on Park Road.

Park Road was an unhappy home for John George. Problems arose not so much because of the building, but because of the terms in which it was taken. Park Road was built by the publisher Thomas Nelson, who in 1888 entered into partnership with Bartholomew. For reasons we may never fully understand, John George found this partnership difficult. One explanation is that in order to pay Nelson back Bartholomew essentially acted as Nelson’s indentured printing concern. Perhaps it was the belief that this would curtail his freedom that troubled the imaginative and ambitious John George.


After twenty years at Park Road, John George began to plan his future, free from Nelson, in Duncan Street. This sketch by John George, of the Duncan Street building superimposed over a print of Park Road, perhaps reveals something of a man happy to be moving on.

Work began on Duncan Street in 1909 and by 1911 Bartholomew were moving in. The Bartholomew Archive is extremely lucky to have photographs of Duncan Street under construction. They are a little murky but they will show you this building in a way that few who are alive today will have seen it before.




The Archive goes even further than this and contains some extremely detailed information about this building. One item, a building abstract, shows us how much each element cost and the name of the firm that was contracted to do it. So, for example, we know that the roof slater was R. Kidd and that the cost was £251.10s. 5d (about £20,000 today).


Bartholomew celebrated the move with a flurry of promotional material, which of course included a map or two.


John George must surely have felt that Duncan Street was a home from home. And in fact, this is more true than it might seem. John George and his family had enjoyed many happy years in an Edinburgh home called Falcon Hall. Before this building was demolished, John George had the entire front portico taken down and rebuilt as the entrance to Duncan Street. Compare this picture of Falcon Hall below with that of Duncan Street above.


The firm stayed at Duncan Street until 1995, which marks almost 200 years of a Bartholomew business in Edinburgh.

This is but a wee snippet of the tale of Duncan Street, which we will explore in much more detail in our December 2012 to May 2013 exhibition, here at the National Library of Scotland. We look forward to seeing you there!

Countdown to Bartholomew Archive exhibition

Posted 6 July, 2012 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

We are in the midst of preparing for a major exhibition of Bartholomew Archive material, due to run from December 2012-April 2013 (I will pass on dates when I have them).

The exhibition will focus on map production techniques at Bartholomew as seen through the eyes of its highly skilled staff and directed by its colourful managers. The exhibition will follow the life story of Bartholomew maps from the compilation of source material, to hand-made ‘graving tools, to the noise of the printing room floor. Visitors will have the chance to meet one of Bartholomew’s most influential characters, John George Bartholomew; to enter the upside down and back to front world of the copperplate engravers before reflecting on the ways in which modern technology may have altered our relationship with maps.

The exhibition affords us the opportunity to display some of the key treasures of the John Bartholomew collection of rare and antiquarian atlases as well as some of the unique manuscript maps that can be found in the Bartholomew Archive.

To mark the occasion, each month until December this blog will focus on items that directly reflect the theme of the exhibition. This month the focus is Bartholomew’s premises on Park Road.

draughtsman room

The firm of John Bartholomew moved to Park Road in 1889. It was arguably the pivotal point in the firm’s history. Between 1888-89, John George Bartholomew (1860-1920) took control of the firm from his father John Bartholomew Junior (1831-93); the firm went into partnership for the first time in its history with the publisher Thomas Nelson, becoming John Bartholomew and Co.; they moved to their first ever purpose built premises and they restyled themselves the Edinburgh Geographical Institute. This sequence of events was to have a profound affect on the future fortunes of what had hitherto been a relatively modest printing and engraving concern.

machine room

Thomas Nelson (an Edinburgh firm of even greater age than Bartholomew) built Park Road, with Bartholomew paying them back via rent, as well of course, via printing work. John George was never enthusiastic about partnerships and there are telling snippets in the archive about his dissatisfaction. In perhaps the most stark comment he privately reflects that he is,

“Determined to end the T. N. [Thomas Nelson] partnership at any cost. To continue would mean ruin to the business and a breakdown on my part – It is impossible to work with so much unpleasant friction & jealousy”

Relief finally came in 1911 when John George removed his beloved Edinburgh Geographical Institute to their most famous home on Duncan Street.

litho room

There were positives and negatives to working at Park Road. On the negative side was the attraction that the building appeared to have for rats. A former employee recalled,

“They [the rats] seldom appeared in the day time but one day, when we were all busy at work, one of the draughtsmen jumped up and knocked over his stool with a great clatter. Next we saw him standing with his hand behind his back clutching at the top of his trousers. A few moments afterwards he jerked out the back of his shirt and a dead rat fell out on the floor”

map mounting room

But on the other hand, its unusual floor plan did have some advantages,

“For weeks before the annual staff picnic there was practicing for the sports, the long corridor between the offices and the printing room being a favourite sprinting track”

There is far more to say about Park Road than can fit in a blog, so with appetites whetted, I look forward to seeing you in December!

floor plan

The Emerald Isle Album of Dublin

Posted 11 March, 2011 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

The Emerald Isle Album series consisted of eleven albums of photographs with descriptive text of assorted interesting places in Ireland. On the 25 June, 1897,Bartholomew printed 5,148 covers and maps for The Emerald Isle Album of the City & County of Dublin.

This ornate cover bespeaks of the general quality this publication aspired to. It positively oozes class. Indeed, the photographs contained within were of a type known as Platinotype, or Platinum Prints, regarded as providing the greatest tonal range of any chemical photographic process. An example of one of these albums, The Emerald Isle Album of Cork, Blarney & Queenstown can be found on the Fáilte Romhat website.

Whilst the cover demonstrates Bartholomew’s deftness with colour and technique it is probably the map which attracted the publisher who commissioned the work, William Strain & Son of Belfast, to them. In true Bartholomew style a pre-existing map was re-purposed for this publication, expediting the job and keeping down the cost. Indeed, the cost for printing 5,148 copies of cover and map was a surprising £7,10,0 or a paltry £631 by today’s standards.

In its sepia tone it is quite an unusual look for a Bartholomew map, although it retains the clarity that you would expect to see. But there is something old-fashioned about the look and feel of these items, even though they were capturing contemporary Dublin life. Could it be that this was a conscious effort to capture for one last time a world that was rapidly drawing to a close?

Touring Scotland with the Caledonian Railway

Posted 4 February, 2011 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

As the railway grew, its initial functional nature was eventually surpassed by one of luxury. Mere journeys became holidays, trips became tours and the manner of getting there became just as important as getting there itself.

A leaflet printed by Bartholomew on the 15 March, 1906, concerning The Caledonian Railway, West Coast Royal Route from and to England, encapsulates something of this spirit. It is lavishly coloured with an arresting and engaging cover, which easily draws the eye and begs for closer inspection. Those that couldn’t resist were treated to luxuriant descriptions of the route, the train, the life and to an extent the glamour of the journey, through extensive descriptions, illustrations and photographs.

However, I have a suspicion that the Royal allusion in the title of this leaflet is in fact nothing more than a reference to the Royal Mail. Earlier advertising for the same route (also in the Bartholomew Archive) refers more humbly to the London & North Western and Caledonian Railways West Coast Royal Mail Route. By strategically dropping “Mail” a whole new connotation is created, a whole new impression. Furthermore, it appears that this was deliberately done in order to tempt the most lucrative market of them all – Americans.

At this time, overseas travel for the mere purpose of pleasure was becoming more of a reality for increasing numbers of people, albeit still small numbers proportionally. The American market quickly established itself and in fact, to this day North American tourists are still the predominant group of overseas visitors to Scotland, at around one quarter of the total. With this in mind it is perhaps unsurprising that the Caledonian Railway also marketed some of its own hotels to this particular group. It is interesting to note the pride which they felt in the electric lighting that this hotel boasted.

The Restless Life of Harry de Windt

Posted 7 January, 2011 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

On the 23 October 1903, Bartholomew printed 2,040 sheets of maps destined for publication in the latest work by Harry de Windt. Harry de who? I hear you ask. Well, one of the best things about the Printing Record is that the maps it contains can reveal interesting but often forgotten stories of people, places and events, and Harry de Windt is no exception.

Harry de Windt was born in Paris in 1856, his full name being Harry Willes Darell de Windt. He occupied the higher echelons of French society, growing up in a villa that his mother had inherited from the Vicomte de Rastignac: his father was English. By the age of fourteen, both of his parents had died and due to the Franco-Prussian war, which was ravaging France, he was sent to school in England. It was not long before the restlessness, which would come to characterise his life, came to the fore. His sister had married Sir Charles Vyner de Windt Brooke (1874–1963), the last Raja of Sarawak, and at the age of 16, Harry set sail to join the party as aide de camp to the Raja.

He returned to England with the intention of taking up a military career. However, his education had been somewhat eccentric, leaving him with little chance of gaining a commission. He was not a good scholar, describing his preference for wearing loud check suits, gambling, drinking and smoking over studying. He turned his attentions to horse racing for a while, before finally settling upon a career devoted to his first loves of travel and adventure.

He largely travelled as a correspondent for assorted newspapers, undertaking his first trip in 1887, from Peking to France. He followed this with trips from Russia to India, extensive travels in Siberia and a journey across eastern Europe which formed the basis of his somewhat derogatorily entitled work Through Savage Europe. Arguably however, his most famous and ambitious journey was the overland route from New York to Paris.

His first attempt almost ended in disaster after he encountered difficulties in the Bering Strait. He underestimated local knowledge and attempted the crossing from America to Asia on foot, disregarding warnings about the inconsistent nature of the ice. He would have died were it not for the timely intervention of a passing whaling ship, although he later recalled this rescue with faint praise, condemning the ship for the smell of boiling blubber.

However, his spirit was indomitable and in 1901/02 he once again attempted the journey. He travelled in the opposite direction, from Paris to New York, and was successful. In the preface to the subsequent book of the journey (for which Bartholomew produced these maps) he cites two reasons for the trip, the first being to ascertain the feasibility of constructing a railway along the route, the second and more likely reason, simply that it had never been done before.

He was an enigmatic man, described as handsome, and possessed of a strong will. His travel books capture all of the excitement of travel in the hostile and little-charted territories that he chose to explore. They also paint interesting anthropological pictures of the peoples that he encountered, perhaps most famously his descriptions of the Tchukthis of the Siberian Arctic. His modest autobiography My Restless Life is a more sombre and pragmatic reflection of his life achievements. He died in a nursing home in Bournemouth in 1933 aged 77, predeceasing his much younger, third wife, the actress Elaine Inescourt.

Explosive Map

Posted 26 November, 2010 13:04 by Karla Baker | Permalink

A spot of indulgence today as I share a map which rather tickled my fancy, Nobel’s Explosives Company’s Map of the British Empire.

Bartholomew printed 7,350 copies of this map on the 19 October, 1900. It is a standard Bartholomew map of the British Empire re-purposed here as advertising for Nobel’s. Other entries have touched upon the use of maps for commercial purposes (Chas Baker & Co: the men and the map; Alexander Ferguson, confectioner to the Queen) but they seem tame compared to this dangerous commodity. Although the message that Nobel’s is trying to convey is one of pride in the universality of their product, to me, the map is slightly threatening, the areas highlighted in red look rather more like targets or conquests.

Alfred Nobel (1833-96) was in fact Swedish but he helped to set up several businesses across Europe that manufactured and sold his most famous product, dynamite. Nobel’s Explosives Company Ltd was one such company. It began life in 1871, known at that time as the British Dynamite Co Ltd. The firm was set up by a group of Glaswegian businessmen who managed to raise the £24,000 (£1,660,000 today) necessary to go into business. Nobel himself was paid in shares, not only for his rights but also technical advice.

It was an extraordinarily successful company that went from strength to strength. In 1877 their estimated assets were worth £240,000 which would equate to £16,700,000 today. They became part of a multi-national trust company which drew together all of Nobel’s concerns, being by far the largest, and they were also contractors to the British Government by this time too.

However, Alfred Nobel was made keenly aware of the negativity felt by some towards dynamite after reading his erroneously published obituary. In order to make recompense and to repair his reputation he founded the Nobel Prizes (physics, chemistry, medicine, literature and for work in peace) for which he is probably better remembered today, no doubt to his satisfaction.

As for the map, hidden beneath the surface there lies quite a lot of unexpected information, hinting at its former life. Canada lets us know which form of conveyance is best to use in different seasons,

and India reveals the main trade goods; both of debatable blowing things up usefulness.

All in all, small though it is, this map is a fascinating artefact both for what it shows and also for what it stands for.