Topographical gnosis anyone?
Dr. Concrescence
dr_omolu at yahoo.com
Tue Jul 2 14:00:41 CDT 2002
The man who mapped the world
Unfold an Ordnance Survey map and you see the legacy
of a remarkable
16th-century cartographer. Travel writer Nicholas
Crane has written a
biography of Gerard Mercator, 'prince of geographers'
Maps codify the miracle of existence. And the man who
wrote the codes
for the maps we use today was Gerard Mercator, a
cobbler's son, born
500 years ago on a muddy floodplain in northern
Europe. In his own
time, Mercator was "the prince of modern geographers",
his depictions
of the planet and its regions unsurpassed in accuracy,
clarity and
consistency. More recently, he was crowned by the
American scholar
Robert W Karrow as "the first modern, scientific
cartographer".
Mercator was a humble man with a universal vision.
Where his
contemporaries had adopted a piecemeal approach to
cartography,
Mercator sought to wrap the world in systematic,
overlapping maps.
Along the way, he erected a number of historic
milestones. He
participated in the naming and the mapping of America,
he constructed
the two most important globes of the 16th century, and
the title of
his pioneering "modern geography", the Atlas, became
the standard
term for a volume of maps.
Mercator also devised a new method - a "projection" -
of converting
the spherical world into a two-dimensional map. Unfold
any Ordnance
Survey map of Britain and you will see a landscape
plotted on
Mercator's Projection. Click through the pages of
Nasa's website and
you will find it illustrated with maps of the solar
system, on
Mercator's Projection.
Mercator was born in 1512 and died in 1594. His world
was one of
military conflict, social upheaval, religious
revolution - and
geographical discovery. He was five years old when
Martin Luther
precipitated the Reformation, and 10 when the
survivors of the
world's first circumnavigation returned to Seville in
their leaking
caravel.
No better example is required of genius arising from
turmoil. He knew
poverty, plague, war, and persecution. He was
imprisoned by the
Inquisition, yet patronised by an Emperor. His life
was one of
brilliant breakthroughs and abrupt reversals. In its
telling, his is
the story of the poor boy made good; the pauper who
embraced the
world, found fame, faced death, yet triumphed through
fortitude.
Variously described by his peers as honest, calm,
candid, sincere and
peaceable, Mercator wore - and wears - an aura of
beatitude in
troubled times.
His attitude to his geographical calling was described
by his friend
and neighbour, Walter Ghim, as "indefatigable". Some
40 or so of
Mercator's letters have survived, together with
examples of virtually
all of his printed maps and globes. Astrolabes bearing
his initials
have turned up in Vienna and Brno, and the British
Library recently
bought a unique one-off atlas compiled in the 1570s by
Mercator for a
fellow humanist. The most important single source of
biographical raw
material is the short appreciation written in 1595 by
Walter Ghim.
Ghim's "remarkable and distinguished" friend spent the
first six
years of his life on the brink of poverty in a small
walled town on
the high road between Cologne and Antwerp. After a run
of bad
harvests, the family migrated west to the Low
Countries, and a
Flemish river port called Rupelmonde. The region's
mercantile
capital, Antwerp, lay just a couple of hours, walk
down the Schelde's
banks.
The Low Countries of the early 1500s was the most
densely populated
region in northern Europe. Passing Rupelmonde's
wharves were barges
bringing firewood from the Ardennes, silk and satin
from Mons and
Quesnay, wheat from Picardy.
The river was also a conduit of overseas news. On its
banks, a boy
could meet men who had sailed through the Pillars of
Hercules and
bumped against the ice floes of the East Sea. The
printed accounts of
Columbus and Vespucci were in wide circulation and
rumours must have
reached the Schelde concerning the Cabots, the father
and sons who
had twice sailed west for the English king, Henry VII.
Portuguese ships on the Schelde spread the stories of
Vasco da Gama,
whose astonishing voyage of 1497 had taken him around
the tip of
Africa and all the way to Calicut - and India.
The terrain of the Low Countries bred well-muscled
imaginations.
Hieronymus Bosch had died recently and Mercator's
contemporaries
included Brueghel and Albrecht Dürer (who visited
Antwerp in the
1520s), and the landscape painter, Joachim Patinir.
Mercator's
perception took form on these deltas and windy
interfluves. The views
he knew were invariably level, verticality was rare,
scales were
horizontal. There were no cliffs or peaks that could
offer another
dimension. The Low Countries existed in only two
dimensions. The
world Mercator knew was a plane as flat as a map.
Orphaned in his teens, Mercator was sent by his uncle
to school in
northern Brabant, and then to Louvain university. It
was here that he
met - and was tutored by - a frail, brilliant
mathematician called
Gemma Frisius, who had recently published a booklet -
"Of the
Principles of Astronomy and Cosmography, with
Instruction for the Use
of Globes, and Information on the World and on Islands
and Other
Places Recently Discovered" - which solved the
longitude problem. In
it, Gemma described how a mariner sailing with a
portable clock which
had been set to the time of the port of departure,
could always
calculate his longitude as long as the clock never
stopped.
Two years later, Gemma published the first printed
description
of "triangulation", the basis for cartographic
surveying. Using a
device called a "planimetrum", Gemma's surveyors could
map an entire
area by taking sightings on prominent points. And on
the plane
surface of the Low Countries, the Church had already
provided the
trinity of every triangle, in the form of towers. The
two-dimensional
geography of these floodplains permitted unimpeded
sight-lines, while
the long straight roads were ideal for measuring
base-lines. Decades
later, when the technique of triangulation reached
England, the first
surveys were conducted in the flatlands of Norfolk.
In covering the land with imaginary triangles, Gemma
had given
geographers a means of simplifying the surface they
were trying to
reduce. At its surveying stage, triangulation created
a mimetic map,
a pictograph laid over the landscape at a scale of
1:1. Seeing maps
as a selective tracing of reality was one of the
perceptive leaps
that helped Gemma's generation of Earth-modellers to
break free from
the imaginary worlds of the Middle Ages.
So conditions in the Low Countries were ripe for
cartographic
advance. To the jurist, Viglius van Aytta,
"Geographicus chartis"
enabled him "to know places, regions and people". At
court in
Brussels, Emperor Charles V pored over maps with
councillors. Maps
had a subversive role too, and in Germany,
cartographers under the
spell of Luther and Melanchthon, saw geography as the
route to
comprehending Creation; the pathway to God.
Out in no-man's-land between orthodox Catholicism and
breakaway
Lutheranism, Mercator regarded geography as an
exercise in
harmonisation, which required multiple aptitudes.
After university,
he embarked upon a frantic apprenticeship, engaging
himself in
philosophy and theology, learning mathematics,
copper-engraving,
instrument-making and mastering a new cursive script
called "italic",
whose clarity and compression were proving ideal for
lettering maps
and globes. (Later, Mercator published the first
manual of italic to
appear north of the Alps.)
Around 1536, he collaborated with Gemma on a printed
globe, and for
the following six years, his output was prodigious. In
1537, he
published his first map (of the Holy Land) and
followed this a year
later with a world map in the shape of an open heart.
A wall map of
Flanders followed, and then in in 1541, he produced
the largest
printed globe ever seen.
Disaster struck in 1542, when an army of wild
Gelderlanders burst
across the Maas and swept through Brabant burning and
looting.
Louvain was laid to siege, but spared after students
took to the
ramparts. In the aftermath, the Inquisition pounced,
and Mercator was
one of 42 suspected "Lutheran" heretics caught in a
round-up. He was
locked up in Rupelmonde castle, whose 17 towers
shadowed the river
port of his boyhood. Surviving letters convey
Mercator's desperate
plight as allies in the university pleaded for his
release. Of his co-
accused, two women were buried alive, another was
burned at the
stake, another beheaded, another banished. Unable to
find evi dence
against him, the Inquisition released Mercator after
seven months.
In the six years following what he referred to as his
"most unjust
persecution", Mercator produced just one celestial
globe, albeit
magnificent. In 1552, he left Louvain and the Low
Countries for
Duisburg, a small town in the Duchy of Cleves, whose
tolerant ruler
Wilhelm permitted Catholics and evangelists to worship
together in
relative harmony.
Away from Antwerp and its hectic hinterland, Mercator
became
something of a recluse. And in his seclusion on the
right bank of the
Rhine, he turned to the sequence of works which would
eventually
place him in the centre of the cartographic pantheon.
First, he
produced a huge and influential wall map of Europe,
and then a map of
the British Isles. Again, he suffered a setback. In
1564, aged 52, he
undertook a commission to map the strategically
positioned Duchy of
Lorraine. "This journey through Lorraine," recalled
Ghim, "gravely
imperilled his life and so weakened him that he came
very near to a
serious breakdown and mental derangement as a result
of his
terrifying experiences." Irritatingly, Ghim did not
elaborate on
these experiences. At the time, Lorraine was prey to
bands of German
mercenaries, and there had been an outbreak of plague
on the Duchy's
borders.
Spared again, Mercator revealed that he would embark
upon a project
of cosmic proportion. A multi-part cosmography, the
work would
include his own treatment of the Creation account, a
section on
astronomy, a chronology of world events and a "modern
geography",
which would eventually contain over 100 new maps. As a
prelude to the
great work, Mercator produced in 1569 an enormous
world map on a new
projection. In doing so, he solved the greatest
cartographic riddle
of the day: how could the course of a ship following a
constant
compass bearing be represented as a straight line on a
map which had
been constructed on a grid of latitude and longitude?
Mercator's solution was to progressively increase the
space between
his lines of latitude, away from the equator. The
effect was to
straighten the lines of constant compass bearing (also
known as rhumb
lines or loxodromes). Unfortunately, straightening the
rhumbs caused
progressive areal distortion towards the poles. At the
map's northern
and southern extremities, the polar regions occupied
the full width
of the map, while North America appeared to fill half
the
circumference of the world. To further confuse his
viewers, Mercator
had cobwebbed every ocean with intersecting
rectilinear rhumbs.
Few of Mercator's contemporaries understood what he
was up to,
despite the map's title explaining that it was
intended "for use in
navigation". Mercator knew that his projection was
unsuitable as an
areal description of the world, but it would be
several decades
before the map's true, navigational purpose would be
recognised. "He
does smile his face," wrote a young English playwright
called William
Shakespeare, "into more lynes than are in the new
Mappe with the
augmentation of the Indies."
Meanwhile, Mercator was marshalling and editing all
the geographical
data he needed for his modern regional maps of the
world. His sources
were wide-ranging and multitudinous: an imperial
physician in Vienna,
John Dee in London, his Antwerp friend and competitor
Abraham
Ortelius, the viceroy of Holstein. In his own,
comprehensive library,
he could turn to manuscript versions of Ptolemy, Marco
Polo and John
Mandeville.
Mercator was still working on these maps when - in
1590 - he suffered
a heart attack: 78 and partially paralysed, he
struggled on. "The
thing he resented most about his illness," recorded
Ghim, "was that
its prolongation cost him so much precious time." But
the great
cosmography that Mercator had already titled "Atlas"
would never be
finished. Four years after his stroke, he died, with
just over 100 of
the maps complete.
In the Atlas, Mercator had embodied the principles of
future
mapmaking: his italic lettering, his identical map
overlaps, his
complete coverage of regions at more than one scale,
his consistent
use of grids of latitude and longitude; his singular
editorial
control, were all adopted as cartographic standards.
Atlas, the
cosmography, became atlas, the (Oxford English
Dictionary) term
for "A collection of maps in a volume".
The projection assumed a life of its own. So powerful
a cartographic
tool did it become that Mercator the man became
subsumed by his own
device. By the 20th century, "Mercator's Projection"
had been adopted
by state cartographers to map the land that he'd named
"North
America". In 1938, Mercator's Projection was selected
by the Ordnance
Survey to map Britain anew. And in 1974, the American
cartographer
Alden P Colvocoresses used the Space Oblique Mercator
Projection for
the first satellite map of the USA.
When the Jet Propulsion Laboratory sent Mariner 8 and
Mariner 9 to
map Mars, they undertook their Martian cartography on
a standard
Mercator Projection and - naturally enough - the first
book of maps
describing the Red Planet was titled Atlas of Mars.
One by one, the mappable orbs of our solar system are
appearing on
the worldwide web, flattened for our screens according
to Mercator's
cartographic principles. "Synthetic aperture radar
mosaics" sent back
to Earth by the Magellan spacecraft have been used to
map Venus on
Mercator's Projection. Jupiter can be viewed on
Mercator's
Projection, and its volcanic moon Io, and Saturn's
largest moon,
Titan.
Mercator's Projection reconciled the sphere and the
plane, while his
Atlas enveloped the world with an integrated system of
maps. In the
midst of an era of tumult, he lived, and he engraved,
for global
harmony. And in his spatial masterworks, the cobbler's
boy from the
Low Countries inscribed his own, universal epitaph.
· Nicholas Crane's book Mercator: the Man who Mapped
the Planet is
published by Weidenfeld and Nicolson this month.
=====
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