Introduction
The year is 1637 when Joannes Ianßonius publishes Nova Europae Descriptio, an outstanding work of cartography displaying myriads of stories and thought provoking questions about 17th century peoples and their homelands.
While the map is rather Eurocentric, it also provides information on geographies like the Mediterranean, going from locales like Morocco to Algeria, Egypt to the coastal side of the Levant, Asia Minor to Greece, Italy to the south of France, and finally Iberia back to Morocco.
Across the entire covered area, it appears the author isn’t necessarily depicting countries, choosing instead to portray the regions of different peoples, albeit with some cases of generalization, possibly out of ignorance or maybe even bias. Greece, for example, is shown as a distinct geography, yet it was part of the Ottoman Empire at the time, so why not separate the Levant as well? Given the granularity attributed to some areas, why not give it to, say, Aquitaine in the south of France, or Venice in the north of Italy? What method did Ianßonius use to decide who deserves a highlighted exhibition?
Much like in Hispania Regnum, this question of how the author demarcates lands will be further explored in this set of articles. Another notable example are the groups in the Holy Roman Empire, which raise some identity questions as well as possibly give some clues to subsequent borders in later centuries.
A feature that further distinguishes this piece from many others is the set of peripheral panels on the top and sides, displaying notable cities and cultures respectively. These may shed some more light into the mysteries of the central work.
In an effort to explore this history-packed map in an honorable manner, the content will be divided into several articles, with part I consisting of a respectable section on the author, followed by a consideration on the city panels on top of the map. The following parts will consider the panels on the side, and then will mainly revolve around reflecting on the Mediterranean depiction of this masterpiece, as well as the bulk of the European continent.
The author
Born in 1588 in Arnhem (modern day Netherlands), Joannes Ianßonius grew up in a household of a publisher and bookseller, his father. He started his cartographic career in 1616 with a map of France and Italy, and owned his first bookstore in Frankfurt by 1623, later expanding his bibliophilic enterprise in various other cities across northern Europe.
The mark of Joannes Ianßonius.
It was from his second marriage that he ventured deeper into cartography, as he joined forces with his brother-in-law to create various projects. Such a partnership was fruitful, as Ianßonius published various works such as the Hondius Atlas and Episcopatum Stavangriensis, Bergensis et Asloiensis.
Ianßonius’ endeavors proved to be marvelous not only for their quality, but also for the stories that came to be from him publishing such works. It is known, for example, that he had a rival by the name of Joan Blaeu, and their competition was fierce with envy and accusations of plagiarism. Knowing that cartography was a field deemed as vital for trade, colonialism and imperialism, this rivalry could have been compared to the later, much more famous feud between Newton and Leibniz over who had the true claim over calculus. However, as mathematics has understandably persisted in relevance across the centuries relative to cartography, its respective intellectual conflicts have also remained in the spotlight, overshadowing captivating stories from fields that have lost protagonism.
Already here do we have a fine lesson: our perception of history and its characters is often dependent on the survivability of their respective fields, meaning that the color and fascination we get from the history we know can also be the factor hiding the illustrious stories we don’t know. Since some narratives only come with studying topics lost in history and vanquished by branches more chic, we may open a world of tales that are as enthralling as they are unknown.
What we see may be less than what we can get, if we observe close enough.
Also, who wouldn’t want to have a rival called Joan Blaeu? How many romances are yet to be written from not enough people knowing of this man’s name and life? Copernicus proposed heliocentrism, but mighty Joan Blaeu was the first to put it on a map of the world. Imagine being the first person to draw a forbidden theory, and publish it with your own name. Yet, this is an article about his formidable foe, Ianßonius, and his marvelous works; perhaps another time will be given to Joan Blaeu.
Heliocentric representation in Atlas maior, by Joan Blaeu.
Our fellow cartographer also worked with a certain Andreas Cellarius, who is regarded as a master of the same trade. However, for now Cellarius will also be but a teaser of future content.
The City Panels
The rationale behind this peripheral content giving some hints at some of the cartographic choices of the author is that they clearly highlight some peoples and, by extension, obfuscate others.
Starting from the top, we get small panoramas of important cities. From left to right, we have Lisboa, Toledo, London, Paris, Rome, and Venice.
Simply by virtue of there being countless cities displayed on the map, the fact that some have the privilege of panoramic prominence already suggests they were somehow important at the time.
Lisboa
Having been the European capital of the spice trade since the beginning of the 16th century, this metropolis brought in exotic goods and esoteric knowledge from all across the world. A vibrant set of peoples practiced commerce in the city, from Flemish currency traders to Macanese Nanban silk merchants. There were even commodity pit trading sessions where shipments coming from the Indian Ocean would anchor in Cabo Verde, Madeira or Açores, but would also send a caravel in advance to Lisboa with a list of the inventory, such that in the voyage between one of these archipelagos and the capital, traders would speculate on the prices of each good and so inflate their value until the arrival of the fleet.
The city had also been a center of science and technology decades before. Being the capital of the first global empire, Lisboa had been teeming with mathematicians, cartographers, botanists, doctors and engineers. Since so many new goods and pieces of knowledge arrived from the armadas into the Terreiro do Paço, many bright minds would want a piece of the action, so as to study, learn and invent. This kind of scientific attraction had already started in the early 15th century, and gained a lot of traction in the beginning of the 16th century, namely with naval (and military) engineering, as well as cartography and medicine. So in 1637, this brand of cosmopolitanism was well engraved in the city, even though it was starting to fade away from fierce competition of other cities, particularly Amsterdam.
Lisboa’s Terreiro do Paço, by Dirk Stoop (1662).
Toledo
While losing the status of capital to Madrid in 1606, Toledo was still a hallmark of culture, business and governance. With its central position in the Peninsula, it long represented the vision of a possibly united Iberia since the times of the Reconquista. And in 1637 the Kingdoms of Spain and Portugal were, as we know from Hispania Regnum, in a dynastic union that only made that scenario an ever closer reality. It had a deep history of Moorish, Mozarab and Jewish peoples, which made the city unique since the Taifa periods.
Although a large portion of the King’s entourage had already moved to Madrid, Toledo was still a vital settlement filled with important monuments and thriving business. By the time of this map’s inception, 1637, this city had a distinguished sword industry which was regarded as unrivaled by many. Today we may think of this fact as interesting trivia, but to be a famous producer of swords in the 17th century was a great feat, as this weapon was well established as a must for any military unit of the time.
Toledo, by Georg Braun and Frans Hogenberg (1623).
London
With a recent colonial endeavor in the works, London was only then getting in the game of receiving overseas merchandise directly. It was by all measures a vital entrepôt in the trade networks of the North Sea, with its very own Hanseatic kontor, or trading post. From England’s colonial ambitions, London raised its status to the most important port town in the North Sea, and it showed from its population. From the early 16th century to the time period of Ianßonius’ map, the city more than quadrupled its number of residents.
By 1637, it boasted of a great commodity trading house called the Royal Exchange, where stockbrokers weren’t allowed in because they were regarded as having rude manners.
A panorama of London, by Claes Van Visscher (1616).
Since Ianßonius was Dutch, he might have had some sympathy for London, as the city was 100 years into Protestantism, so to watch it grow with so much momentum despite its severed ties with Catholicism could have been a source of inspiration or a sign that indeed the Dutch too didn’t need Rome as its religious head. This is all just conjecture, of course, because the Dutch did also viciously compete in trade and navies with the English, but it may not be unreasonable to think that both nations felt some level of kinship from their open spiritual rebellion against Catholicism.
Unbeknownst to our fellow cartographer, London would soon see a great deal of social and political turmoil, which would shape the history of its country and, eventually, the world.
Paris
Although having a fairly different look than what we associate it with, Paris was at its zenith in the 17th century. It was the city with the highest population in Europe, counting around half a million residents.
Like England, France too was fairly late in colonial expansionism, but it did not find as much enthusiasm in its oversees empire as the English did (at least regarding the First French Empire), so its prowess came mainly from within the country and through its European ambitions. Thus, Paris’ astonishing 17th century momentum also came from the country’s developments in the European continent, not so much from colonies.
It was from this Paris that came the Louvre, the French Academy of Sciences, and the Paris Observatory. The city attracted unrivaled French talent in various fields, namely Moliere in Poetry and Theater, La Rochefoucauld in Literature and Maxims, and Descartes in Mathematics and Philosophy.
The city’s main industry was that of textiles, and since long ago, Paris had a strong tradition of skilled generational labor. There were guilds for each profession, and strict rules for admissions were enforced. The artificers of these guilds would only allow a minute number of people to get in the craft, meaning it was hard to enter a given industry, but the workers in each one of them tended to be highly skilled due to the volume of clientele coming from such local protectionism.
So although France saw a lot of strife in the 1600’s, through Paris it also saw a remarkable growth of its power, culture and number of cafés.
Map of Paris, by Claes Jansz Visscher (1618).
Rome
Seeing as Catholicism was being successively put to the test before and during Ianßonius’ era, one would think Rome would be in a societal drought. First there were the anthropocentric views of the Renaissance, then the rise of Protestantism in Northern Europe, and consequently the Thirty Years War, which saw a further loss of sovereignty of the Pope in the North. Indeed it felt grim to the Papal States and its capital as a whole.
Yet, Rome was Rome.
It was in this period that St. Peter's Basilica was finished. Wondrous works of Baroque were meticulously crafted; from churches with breathtaking facades to fountains and statues begging to have lovers beside them.
The city had a grand project in the works too. In the late 16th century, Pope Sixtus V had a vision for the city. You see, for all the beauty that the city had, it was surprisingly difficult to bask in awe of it all. This because the planning of the streets often hid the monuments from viewers afar. Hence, Sixtus found the solution and it was brilliant.
He decided to reshape the city in the form of a star with large roads representing the rays with which citizens and pilgrims could walk through and observe various monuments of worship. Each road would pass through multiple piazzas with paraphernalia of times of yore. All of this to glorify the city and what it represented. So by 1637, these ambitious city plans were already bearing fruit. Regardless of background, there is beauty in such a venture.
English took brilliant from French’s brilliant, meaning “shining”. And French (possibly) took brilliant from Vulgar Latin’s beryl, meaning “precious stone”. And so that is what Rome was (to be): shining and as a precious stone.
Panoramic View or Map of Rome, by Matthäus Merian (1652).
Venice
By the time Ianßonius published Nova Europae Descriptio, the Most Serene Republic was arguably in dire straits. The spice trade had been taken hold of by empires like Portugal and Spain, the country’s borders were suffering constant raids from the Uzkoks, Venetian foreign policy –even regarding Italy itself– was a shadow of its former self, Spain was attempting to gain a big slice of the pie on the Adriatic Sea through its Viceroyalty of Naples, and the Ottoman Empire was a constant foe, ready to instill a constant sense of impending doom.
Later it would even lose Crete to the Ottomans, a historical foothold of Venetian supremacy over the Mediterranean trade, which Venice held for four centuries. Such defeat was tangible proof that Venice had lost its maritime power and possessions, or the Stato da Màr.
The original twist to this story is that it seems Venice accepted its decline, opting for a somewhat gradual demise instead of trying to hold on to ideas of past grandeur. It later came to be set in stone when Venice accepted a neutral stance between powers like France and the Habsburg Empire. This meant that Venice acquiesced to become a jewel of the past, where Europeans still went for luxury and, perhaps, melancholy.
Such was the most Serene Republic of Venice. A display of ancient trade, Byzantine relics, maritime prowess, back-stabbing politics, but above all, luxury as beautiful as it was hedonistic.
And so Venice’s power faded away in a Venetian fashion: Serenely.
Citta di Venetia, by Vincenzo Maria Coronelli (1693).
Last words
As can be observed, a gargantuan amount of history can be observed from these panels, let alone the rest of Ianßonius’ map. The size of the considered stories, though, can easily be dwarfed by the narratives that have yet to be looked upon.
Think how, for example, the six selected cities connect very well with each other. Portugal was a rival of Spain, England of France, and the Papal States of the Venetian Republic. At the same time, Portugal substituted Venice as the European spice dealer, Spain was constantly mingling with the Papal States, and England had a longstanding feud with France.
While this is not a claim of certainty that Ianßonius arranged those cities for such associations, there is perplexity to be had in realizing that it doesn’t really matter, because all these cities had deeply intricate bonds anyway.