How the Other .0001% Lives, Part II: Celebrating in Style

Fireworks at one of the Sun King's parties at Versailles

Like many women--and some men--of a certain age, I set my alarm for 3:00 AM on July 29, 1981, to watch the televised wedding of Lady Diana Spencer to Charles, Prince of Wales. Had I slept through the alarm, however, I could have relished each moment of pageantry in any of the endless "special wedding edition" magazines or commemorative books that flooded the market. As the reluctant reporter sent to spy on a society wedding in The Philadelphia Story observes, "The prettiest sight in this fine pretty world is the privileged class enjoying its privileges," and it's a sight that has fascinated for centuries.



Where now we have People, Us, and Hello!--not to mention my favorite Sunday indulgence, the New York Times "Weddings and Celebrations" as "scored" in Gawker's Altarcations posts--celebrity and royalty watchers of the 17th and 18th centuries had fête books, huge folio-sized volumes with engravings detailing weddings, parties, coronations, baptisms, and even funerals. As one might expect, Louis XIV, who was not known as the Sun King for nothing, had an entire series of these books commissioned to flaunt the glories of his court whenever there was the least excuse. The beautiful engraving above features a fireworks display--something only the royal or very, very rich could acquire and afford--that concluded a little summer party he threw for a few hundred intimate friends. The evening's entertainment included a new play by that up-and-comer, Molière.

Let's put on a show!!

As any good publicist can tell you, there's no point in throwing the Party of the Century if only the people invited to the party get to see it. How is one to impress one's rivals, enemies, and jealous relations without pictorial accounts of the gala being made available? Louis XIV, the patron saint of publicists, never missed a chance to remind all of Europe that he was the center of the universe and king of the most spectacular court in the history of the world. The volumes served as royal propaganda, as the king gave copies to those whom he wished to honor, and his ambassadors gave them to foreign crowned heads. To set the stage for the little "diversion" pictured here, Louis hired the celebrated Italian architect and engineer Gaspare Vigarani, who, among other things, had built the largest theatre in the world to accommodate the Sun King's marriage in 1660.



Collector's have long prized these beautiful books, both for the pure aesthetic value of the engravings and for the glimpse they offer us into the lives of the most powerful men and women in the Europe of their day. Even the most determined and well-funded Bridezilla would be hard pressed to match the glories of an ordinary midsummer masque at Versailles.

To learn more about fête books, consult Penelope Hough's Catalogue Des Livres Rares et Précieux Composant la Bibliothéque de M. Ruggieri, which describes the 1,200 lots in the auction of M. Ruggieri's impressive collection of festival books, held in Paris beginning 3 March 1873. An online resource, though sadly without images, is the catalogue for Christie's Splendid Ceremonies auction of the Paul and Marianne Gourary Collection of Illustrated Fête Books, held in New on 12 June 2009.

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Photographs from Les Plaisirs de l'Isle Enchantée [bound with] Les Divertissemens de Versailles, Paris: De l'Imprimerie Royale, 1673, 1676. Courtesy of Phillip J. Pirages Fine Books & Manuscripts.

On Authors and Author Idolatry in the 21st Century

Throw pillow by, and available through Cafe Press.

From the Booktryst Mailbox:

Within your recent post, The Girl Who (NSFW) Loves Ray Bradbury, you opined that "Once upon a time the novel stood at the pinnacle of culture and novelists were idolized. That time has, alas, passed…."

As an aspiring novelist, I’ve chosen to be a bit offended by your statement.  Taking offense these days seeming to be a pop-culture way of life, it’s probably one of the few ways, at my age, I can ever claim the dubious distinction of being cool enough to be part of that, so I will also choose to take some pride in my choice.

How can you suggest that the time has passed in which novelists are idolized?  How can I go on toiling at my tomes if you are going to dash my hopes that one day, perhaps also at age 90, I, too, can be so honored and lusted after by a gorgeous 23-year-old woman such as Rachel Bloom?  What, then, shall be my motivation to write at all?  Do you, sir, feel no responsibility as a potential tilter of public opinion to support us would-be, nay, all novelists?  How can you disseminate such ugly propaganda?  Have you no shame?

This, then, is my declaration to fight the evil tyranny of your dream-killing ways.  I shall stand in defense of all novelists, would-be or otherwise, and the rightful cultural standing of the novels they create by mounting a defense to counter your questionable practices, no matter how underhanded the tactics to which I must resort.

The very fact that your post relates a story of a hip, intelligent, young woman who clearly idolizes Ray Bradbury underscores the ludicrous nature of your comment, how rife it is in venom and vitriol.  Your egregious faux pas is self-evident.

What manner of journalistic skullduggery and witchcraft do you proffer to back up your ill-conceived, misguided premise?  Hush!  Whatever it is, it simply cannot stand in the face of an endless string of evidence to the contrary.  How can you deny the “pinnacle of culture” standing of the Harry Potter series?  What say you of the incomprehensible, profound popularity of the Twilight novels?  And what of the status to which their authors have rocketed?  Idols?  You speak of passed days of idols?  Ha!  J. K. Rowling and Stephenie Meyer have been elevated to modern-day gods!  I won’t venture my opinion as to which novelists this applies, but some have been placed on their pedestals having vastly fewer skills and talents than those of the estimable Mr. Bradbury.

I will stop here if for no other reason than to continue your trouncing is too easily redundant, and I have no need to stoop to your level of cruelty.  But I’m sure, having been cast upon by the light of incontrovertible reason and justice, repentance is now your master, so all is forgiven.

•••

Hey, tell it to the Marines, buddy. Wait, you're an ex-Marine, as I've subsequently learned; tell it to yourself. 

Irony is not dead. Yet faith in one's sense of it is sorely tested these days. Fortunately, our correspondent provides an out for doubt:

Thanks for conducting and posting the interview, Mr. Gertz, and great applause to Ms. Bloom for her outrageous video.  I loved it!

Last but not least, a very Happy Birthday to Ray Bradbury!  I’m sure not unique in claiming him as a lifelong friend and invaluable mentor, though we only met once in the flesh when he spoke at a function in Venice Beach, CA about 6 years ago.  That was my honor and privilege!

Thanks for the fun!

Sincerely,
Kevin Jones
 

And thank you for the laughs. In re: today's headline - Something is happening and you do know what it is, don't you, Mr. Jones.*

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* With apologies to Bob Dylan.

And with thanks to Kevin Jones for permission to print his letter.

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The World of 19th Century Coach Travel Revealed in a Beat-Up Ledger

Royal Mail Coach, 1827.

The era of British coaches and coaching are brought back to life with a manuscript account book of one of the most renowned coaches and routes of them all, the London - Seven Oaks, for the years 1868 through 1872.

It appears as if it had been run over by the mail coach - and an entire football team that later enjoyed cups of coffee and used the book as a coaster; there are more rings on its lower board than around Saturn. This book was used, and used well.

I enjoy it when items such as this land on my desk. Manuscript account books, at first glance, appear to be fairly boring but nothing could be farther from the truth. While I generally can't account for my whereabouts and, too often, who I am, a good account book can tell  you quite a bit about the particular business it accounts for, and the milieu in which the business operated.

The fun, for a rare book cataloger, lies in the detective work. Here, it begins with the initials found at the bottom of the upper board.

"C.A.R.H" was, it turns out, Charles A. R.  Hoare, Esq., who, prior to assuming proprietorship of the London Seven Oaks coach, was Master of the Vale of White Horse hounds. Having identified who C.A.R.H. was the world opens up and a story emerges.

"Towards the end of the season of 1867, Mr. Charles Hoare started a coach between Beckenham and Sevenoaks. This developed the following year into the Seven Oaks coach, starting from Hatchett's [White Horse Cellar, in London], and this carried such good loads, that in 1868 its proprietor carried it on to Tunbridge Wells, to the delight of thousands who have since enjoyed the exquisite scenery it has introduced them to. Since 1868 the Brighton has continued a single coach, but several new candidates for public favour have appeared" (Old and New London: Volume Four 1878, p. 262).

 

"Mr. Charles Hoare appeared for the second year in the role of coach proprietor; but this time ran from London to Seven Oaks instead of between Beckenham and Sevenoaks, with Comley as professional coachman, and Ike Simmons as guard. Mr. Hoare's coach was another link to the past. It was one of the mails built in the year 1831 by Wright, and when it was bought by Messrs. Holland & Holland (by whom it was let to Mr. Hoare on the usual mileage terms) it had V.R. and a crown on it, a proof that it had seen mail service during the reign of Her Majesty. 

"It had, of course, a single seat only behind the guard, whose blunderbuss case was opposite, and where the second seat would be. The hind boot opened at the top, beneath the guard's feet, so that he could easily drop his mail bags into the depths below. In order to give as much room as possible for the letter bags, the hind boot was deeper tha usual; and differing from the general plan, the boot was brought out flush with the body of the coach. In order to allow of the extra depth of the boot, the hind axle was bent downwards. 

"The 'old school' will perhaps smile at notice being drawn to these details; but they will pardon the digression on remembering that since coaches were driven off the road, a race has arisen to which the 'revival' is history, and the fashion of the Park drags a pattern, Such, at all events, was the Sevenoaks coach when it first came into the possession of Messrs. Holland & Holland; but, in order to adapt it to modern requirements, the guard's seat was lengthened to carry four, and a like number of passengers were accommodated where the guard's armory had erstwhile been" (Fitz Roy, Henry Charles, Duke of Beaufort. Driving. London: Longmans, Green, 1890, pp. 277-278).

The manuscript begins on the verso of first leaf with a list the fares from London to Dulwich, “Crystal Pal’e,” Beckenham, Farnboro, Riverhead, and Sevenoaks, both “Inside” and “Outside,” with “Box Seat 1/- extra.”

The accounts begin with the first season, “Friday May 1st/[18]68” to “Monday 26th Octr.” ([40] leaves, followed by [2] blank leaves).

Each page is divided into columns listing the passengers’ names, the destination, the number and location of their seats, and the amount/fare paid.

The accounts end August 21, 1872. It was in that year that Charles Hoare retired, leaving the Earl of Bective and Colonel Hathorn in command of the coach and route.

In all, what has been left to us is a unique relic of a bygone era in British mail and personal transportation, and the day-to-day details, found nowhere else, of one of its most famous coaches. 

It is because of the unique details found in vintage manuscript account books that make them so attractive as a collectible. It's as if you're a silent partner in the business.

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[COACHES]. [MANUSCRIPT ACCOUNT BOOK]. Tunbridge, London and Sevenoaks Coach. Begun and Ended! [N.p. (London)]: [1868]-1872.

Folio (12 7/16 x 7 7/8 inches; 317 x 201 mm.). Written in ink on blue paper (watermarked “W. Stradling 1863") ruled in ink. [178] leaves.

Quarter parchment over vellum boards. Front cover lettered in ink: London and Sevenoaks Coach/Begun Ended. Marbled edges and endpapers. Ink initials at foot of front cover: C.A.R.H. Additional ink initials on front cover: J.J.H.
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Images courtesy David Brass.

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Garbo Speaks: I Vant To Read Alone

I'm going to begin by using three words I really hate having to utter: I. Was. Wrong.

In the lively discussion that took place in the comments to Stephen Gertz's provocative post on e-books vs. print books, I confessed that I would love to have a Kindle or other e-book reader for travel. My deepest, darkest fear is of being stuck in a hotel room or airport with nothing to read but my smaller-than-3 oz. tube of toothpaste.

Consequently, my luggage weighs a ton, because I have to carry the book I'm currently reading, a book to start when I finish that one, and a third book as back-up in case the second book sucks or I finish it, too, during an airline strike or other travel disaster. The idea of having all of these books on a single device that weighs less than 2 pounds was wildly appealing, until I read this article, in which the New York Times "Style" section joyously informed me that using an e-book reader would make the experience of reading less "isolating."

It seems, dear readers, that "historically, there has been a stigma attached to the bookworm, and that actually came from the not-untrue notion that, if you were reading, you weren’t socializing with other people." But fear not, technology is here to change all that. Whip out your iPad or Kindle, and you will be the center of attention, the belle of the ball. 

According to one traveler, "People approach me and ask to see it, to touch it, how much I like it. That rarely happens with dead-tree books." So rejoice, bookworms! No longer are you the anti-social pariah all others eye with suspicion while you enjoy the charms of Jane Austen or Mark Twain. Now, you're one of the cool kids. Your e-reader makes you the envy of all around you: "the sleekness and portability of the iPad erases any negative notions or stigmas associated with reading alone." Imagine my relief when I read that "Buying literature has become cool again."

Admittedly, I'm a curmudgeon, but I like being left alone when I'm reading. I really don't care if there's a stigma attached, or if others consider me unapproachable or unfriendly. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I would venture to guess that most of our readers have at some time used a book as armor against the unwanted attention of others. 

In the Dante's Inferno that modern air travel has become, a book and headphones are essential equipment. I'm sure many, if not most, of my fellow travelers are very nice people, but I just don't have the energy to be social. After I've negotiated traffic, parking, security lines behind people who evidently haven't flown since 1966, endured the disrobing and unpacking required just to get through security only to arrive at the gate and find it has been changed to the other side of the airport, run through the airport, stopping to grab some disgusting excuse for food to keep me from collapsing before I reach my destination, just to reach the new gate and learn that the flight is now delayed three hours, I really not up for chit-chat. I want to escape, and as Emily said, "There is no frigate like a book . . ."

What I do NOT want is to be surrounded by people asking questions about my e-reader, wanting to see it, wanting to touch it. I want to be left to the solitary pleasure of reading--truly one of the great joys of life, one that allows me to escape the screaming children, the business execs on cell phones, the endless, indecipherable announcements over the PA system. I'm no longer in the nightmare that is DFW or O'Hare, I'm in the English countryside, or walking through Paris, or chasing a murderer with Hercule Poirot. I am as close as I can get to happiness, under the circumstances.

For me, one of the chief virtues of reading in public is that it does allow one to avoid undesired contact with others. I've been known to choose books for their deterrent-to-conversation qualities alone. Bestsellers should be avoided, as should attractive covers that might invite queries. Classics are a good choice; no one wants to know how you like that book they avoided reading in high school English. If you're traveling within the U. S., a book in a foreign language can be the ideal discouragement to those who might be seeking a conversational partner. A friend has used annual flights from the U.S. to Australia to read all of Proust in French, and my sister, who reads Russian, is never bothered when she whips out her volume of Chekhov in the original language.

So to the many virtues of the printed book let us add: Allows one to read undisturbed in public. Sorry Amazon and Apple, no e-reader for me. Convenience and lighter luggage are no recompense for the loss of the solitary pleasure of reading.

Now you kids get off my lawn.

The Apocryphal Cookbooks of Famous Novelists

LAWRENCE, Cynthia [pseud. of Lillian Hellman?]. Barbie's Easy-As-Pie Cookbook.
New York: Random House, 1964.
Though she preferred anonymity, we're pleased that the Unfinished Woman
had time to finish this book, attributed to her based upon its Stalinist sympathies.

Recently, Kelvin Johnson, an adult-bookstore clerk in Baltimore, MD, bought the contents of a self-storage unit at auction. Within was box of books that upon close examination inspired Johnson to contact lawyers, accountants, and rare book dealers.

“I’m not much of a vanilla-book person,” Johnson said, “but I do know that none of these authors were known for their work in the kitchen. They’re all cookbooks.”

The news has rocked the literary establishment.

“We all feel like we’ve been kneaded, and flattened with a rolling pin,” Marilyn Bagley, Professor of English Literature at West Covina Community College in Southern California and author of Heavy Metal and Hip-Hop Motifs in Victorian Novels 1840-1860: The Foreshadow of Ozzie Osborne, Original 50 Cent, and the Quest For Bling Within the Works of William Thackeray and George Eliot, reported. “All our bubbles have been squooshed.”

Basil Pine-Coffin, a literary forensics specialist and rare book dealer that Johnson has hired to appraise the books, said, “stylistically, they’re spot on; there’s no question in my mind that they are genuine. They appear to be vanity editions, and one-offs – unique. They have certainly never been heard of or seen before. This is an amazing discovery that will provide scholars with plenty to chew on for many years to come. The books are priceless - but we’re working on it.”

A few highlights from the trove:

Mark Twain married his interest in gastronomy with his affection for the vernacular and erotic, and thus brought A Tramp, A Broad, and Huckleberry Pie out of the oven and onto the dessert tray.

Who knew that Charles Dickens was a closet chocolatier? Barnaby Fudge melts in your mouth.

Was Edgar Allen Poe a secret Jew? No one has ever imagined it. But The Tell-Tale Calves Liver, a tract on trayfe (non-kosher), strongly suggests that the idea ain’t just chopped liver.

William Styron suffered from depression for much of his adult life yet he, apparently, found joy in the simple pleasures and so bequeathed Sophie’s Choice Brisket to us.

Portrait of a Lady Finger is surely Henry James’ lightest confection.

We now know what drove F. Scott Fitzgerald to drink. The Beautiful and the Damned Angel Cake is a bittersweet tragedy.

True, she didn’t write fiction. Yet environmentalists and litterateurs will be seared when they learn that when not spraying the truth on pesticides Rachel Carson tacitly wrote The Silent Spring Chicken. No comment on this understated gustatory salute to Cornish game hens and the many ways to prepare them, sotto voce, and hormone-free.

It is likely that no one will ever tackle James Joyce’s contribution to the dinner table. No kitchen consultants have been able to make head or tail out of Finnegan’s Cake, much less bake it. But that shouldn’t stop it from winning the Pillsbury Bake-Off; it’s a modern classic that will be much admired though rarely eaten.

William Faulkner, it turns out, spent as much time with a baking sheet as a sheet of paper. One afternoon, he asked his Hollywood employer, studio-chief Jack Warner, if he could finish writing at home. Warner looked at his watch and said, sure, go ahead. A week later, Warner was pissed-off. “Where the fuck is Faulkner?” Turns out, Faulkner had something in the oven – at home in Oxford, Mississippi, where he apparently fled to compose the following soufflés: The Sound and the Fricassee; As I Lay Frying; Intruder in the Crust; Requiem For a Bun; and Albacore, Albacore!

Johnson is very excited. And the stakes are high. At a press conference this morning his team announced their appraisal of the collection, a staggering $200,000,000.

Yet all is not well in the world of literary dishes - instant riches.

James Salt, the respected rare book dealer that Johnson originally brought in to help with the project, excused himself early on. He believes the collection may only be worth $200, at best.

“I smell fish,” Salt sniffed, “and I’m not talking about Jean Rhys’s Wide Sargasso Sea Bass: 20 Lite N’ Easy Meals.

“While it’s true that Tolstoy hated Italian food I seriously doubt that he would devote his time and labor to a 1,000 page book about his struggle with it. I don’t care how many so-called experts assert otherwise, I will never be convinced that he wrote War On Pizza.”

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How To Shop at a Used or Rare Book Store Without Being Murdered

“One of the questionable compensations which used booksellers [the books, not the sellers] receive in return for devoting themselves to a precarious vocation is a constant exposure to all the varieties and extremes of human behaviour at its most eccentric.”

So begins The Protocols of Used Bookstores, a serio-comic tract written and recently published by Toronto fine and rare bookseller (the books and the seller) David Mason.

Within, Mason lists forty-four Rules to be heeded by the used and rare book buyer when patronizing a brick and mortar shop if they wish the proprietor to give them the time of day and a piece of their expertise as opposed to a time of death and a piece of their mind. Mason has put forth these rules “to help make your quest for a book simpler.”

And to make the collector and seller allies instead of antagonists. Few things are as annoying to a used and rare bookseller as intelligent people leaving their brain at shop's entrance. And few things are as annoying to the collector as a bookseller so aloof that they seem to be at lunch, full-time.

“While on a good day eccentricity can be stimulating, even exhilarating, on a bad day it can test your endurance and threaten your ability to cope.

“...you should be aware that all the stupid questions in this piece are authentic; every single one, no matter how ludicrous it may appear has been said to me or one of my colleagues, often many times.”

I, too, have heard many if not most of them.

It should be pointed out that these rules are for the neonate, developmentally disabled novice or long-term blockhead, and not you, Booktryst readers. You are the best book people in the world, possessing intelligence, savoir faire, grace, good breeding, and manners. U wuz razed rite.

Number One on the hit parade is commonly encountered when a stranger enters the shop. "A library, huh?" Or its close cousin, "Books, eh?"

On the positive, the question demonstrates that your eyes are fully functional and that you have a flair for the obvious. On the downside, the bookseller may justifiably presume you to lack a cerebral hemisphere and thus not be qualified to adopt whatever book you find and wish to bring into your home. Yes, many booksellers operate as a book adoption service and will only place books with the proper guardian; no seller likes to be visited by a case-worker from  Book Protection Services when an adoption goes awry. You don't need to proffer references to the seller, just good sense.

Number forty-four is related to Number One, and is the comment most despised by booksellers: "Don't expect the proprietor to smile with pleasure when you say, 'I'll have to come back when I have more time.'" This statement is often uttered by the dim-bulb of Rule Number One. It must be understood that this has been stated by prior thousands and is priceless. Priceless because the person is never seen again and never buys anything, ever.

In between #1 and #44 are classics, including "Go ahead, steal this book; you have more right to it than the bookseller anyway. He's obviously rich or he wouldn't have all those books. And, he's also a vulgar, greedy capitalist, or he wouldn't put arbitrary prices on knowledge."

This is the only book you are allowed to steal - after paying for it.

If there is any doubt about the legitimacy of liberating a book from its capitalist master, consider Mason's favorite philosophical axiom on the subject, a bit of street wisdom that should probably appear as a footnote to the Eighth Commandment: "If you want to know whether stealing is wrong, steal from a thief."

And #28: "...Our job is to salvage everything, both good and bad, which reflects civilization.  But we will not sell you...stuff if we think your motives are questionable. And yes - you're right - that is indeed a form of censorship. But, they're our books and we make the rules. Many booksellers take a perverse pride in sacrificing profit because of personal principles."

If  you have a genuinely legitimate interest in anti-Semitic and Nazi propaganda literature, you're safe. But if you're a skinhead with swastikas tattooed on your skull and "Fuck Jews" tattooed on your knuckles there's a pretty good chance the books you want to buy will be mysteriously and retroactively placed on hold for someone else and are not available for sale. No bookseller wants to receive phone calls from enthusiasts who saw "Achtung! All Brown Shirts: Got these great books from David Mason" on crispycritterkikes.com.

David Mason has been in the trade for over forty years. He has seen and heard it all, and if he seems a bit piqued at times in his narrative it is simply the Job-like weariness of one who was called to the vocation, retains a sense of humor, albeit flinty, yet often wonders whether God or anybody else cares.

"The truth is, booksellers believe that what they sell is important to civilization and that their presence contributes to that civilization. And sometimes they don't have much more than that conviction to keep them going. Try to keep that in mind when you enter a bookshop, and try to enter in the same spirit."

Amen, Brother Mason. And to you, brother and sister collectors. We fight the good fight together.

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Mason, David. Protocols of Used Bookstores. Toronto: David Mason Fine & Rare Books, July 2010. Limited edition of 300 copies. Octavo. 18 pp., with text illustrations. $10.

Available directly from David Mason Fine & Rare Books. 366 Adelaide Street West. Suite LL04 & LL05, Toronto, ON, Canada M5V 1R9.

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Princeton Library Puts Art On The Map

Detail From: Jansson, Jan, 1588–1664.
“Mar del Zur Hispanis Mare Pacificum.”
Copperplate map, with added color, 42 × 52 cm.
(Amsterdam, 1650) (All Images Courtesy Of Princeton University Libraries.)

According to an August 20, 2010 article in Britain's Daily Mail, "Men clock up an average 276 miles a year aimlessly driving around lost rather than asking for directions." And women drivers, despite a million jokes about men being too proud to ask for directions, don't fare much better, averaging 256 miles a year aimlessly spinning their wheels. All of which seem to indicate that even with the advent of GPS technology, a good old-fashioned map, and the ability to read it, still comes in handy.

Cartouche From: Jansson, Jan, 1588–1664.
“Mar del Zur Hispanis Mare Pacificum.”
Copperplate map, with added color, 42 × 52 cm.
(Amsterdam, 1650)

The road maps we use today, whether digital or on paper, are strictly utilitarian. We glance at them only long enough to figure out how to get from "point a" to "point b." But there was a time when the map was an object of beauty, and a work of art. Princeton University's Historic Maps Collection and Firestone Library Department of Rare Books and Special Collections have combined forces to create three exquisite online exhibits centered around maps from the Age of Discovery, roughly the early 1400's through the late 1600's. These exhibits contain a wealth of information about the exploration of the Pacific Ocean, The African Continent, and North America. There's an embarrassment of riches here, so this article concentrates on only one intriguing aspect of the maps: their ornamentation and embellishment.

Cartouche From: Blaeu, Willem Janszoon, 1571-1638.
"Regiones Sub Polo Arctico" [ca. 1638].
Copperplate map, 39.4 x 51.1 cm.,
handcolored, with French text on verso.

The word "cartouche" has its origins in Egyptian hieroglyphics, but to Europeans it meant a paper encasement, coffin, or scroll, often bound with a rope. The term is used in everything from armaments to architecture, but in cartography it is any decoration on a map that is self-contained. This frame with a decorative border may contain the map's title, its scale, a dedication, the printer's address, and/or the date of the map's publication. The cartouche depicted here is from a map containing the major English discoveries of Henry Hudson and William Baffin, as well as those within Hudson Bay of Thomas Button and Thomas James. The images surrounding it include a cannibal enjoying a tasty snack, and a European cooking his own food, who may represent Hudson after he was cast adrift by mutineers.

Detail From: Blaeu, Willem Janszoon, 1571-1638.
"Regiones Sub Polo Arctico" [ca. 1638].
Copperplate map, 39.4 x 51.1 cm.,
handcolored, with French text on verso.

This is a vignette, with a cartouche within. In the vignette figures, flora, and fauna leave their frame and blend into the map. Here the fanciful, wolf-like creature atop the scale is intended to be a polar bear. Map makers sometimes relied on modest sketches or verbal descriptions to create their versions of the strange creatures encountered by explorers. Other times they added animals they were familiar with, whether or not they could actually be found in the location depicted on the map.

Detail From: Blaeu, Willem Janszoon, 1571-1638.
“Africae nova descriptio.”
Copperplate carte à figures map, with added color, 35 x 45 cm.
(Amsterdam, 1644).

This border is from one of the most accomplished and popular early maps of Africa. Its fine engraving and calligraphy, ornate cartouches, delicate hand coloring, and exquisite pictorial detailing all mark it as one of the most artful maps ever produced. It was first issued in 1630, and reprinted repeatedly in Latin, French, German, Dutch, and Spanish atlases as late as 1667.

Detail From: Blaeu, Willem Janszoon, 1571-1638.
“Africae nova descriptio.”
Copperplate carte à figures map, with added color, 35 x 45 cm.
(Amsterdam, 1644).

Another section of Willem Blaeu's map of Africa, which was drawn in a format called carte a figures. Its decorative border contains meticulous renderings of native costumes from each of the coastal nations depicted. The oval panels contain views of major port cities and their landmarks. A wide variety of animal life decorates the map's interior, including lions, elephants, ostriches, and flying fish.

Detail From: Levasseur, Victor.“Afrique.”
Steel engraved map, with some added color, 21 x 23 cm.,
set within a larger pictorial framework. (Paris, 1852).

This map, first published in 1845, is a cartographic failure but a decorative delight. Considering its relatively late publication, the map is singularly lacking in geographic detail. Its lavish decoration makes it a throwback to an earlier age of elaborately embellished cartography. In the section above, a French officer presents what may be some form of treaty to an armed Arab, as both Westerners and natives look on with concern. The detailed depiction of fruits, flowers, animals, and landscape vignettes mark this as one of the last great decorative maps ever produced.

Detail From: Hondius, Hendrik, 1597–1651.
“Polus Antarcticus.”
Copperplate map, with added color,
44 cm. in diameter on sheet 44 × 50 cm. (Amsterdam, 1638).

As the geographical accuracy of cartography progressed, the ornamental and decorative aspects slid further and further off the map. Soon, today's functional but uninspiring maps became the norm, perhaps leading us to spend less time consulting them, and more time pretending we have understood their meaning. If the data we got from Mapquest was beautifully illustrated, would we more quickly grasp the content, and spend less of those fuel inefficient hours proudly taking pointless journeys down the road to nowhere? Or would we become so intrigued by the likenesses of the plants, animals, and people inhabiting place we are trying to reach, that we might never arrive at our destination at all?