Magnificent Maps at the British Library

What was it that Allan and Barbara Pease said about women and map reading? Oh yes: women can’t read maps. Well, far be it for me to criticise a book I haven’t read, but there is one thing I can state for definite. You don’t need to be able to read maps in order to enjoy the Magnificent Maps exhibition at the British Library. You don’t even need to have a particular interest in cartography, although I’m sure it helps. Quite frankly if you're interested in art, history, politics or even a touch of the absurd, then this exhibition may well tickle your fancy.

The first two things I noticed on my initial circuit were that (a) some of the maps are simply superb works of art and (b) a lot of them are (in geographical terms) incongruously wrong.

If you (like me) are more concerned with pure aesthetic enjoyment, the majority of maps are utterly magnificent. Vivid pinks, blues, ochres and golds are the order of the day, accented with depictions of creatures, both mythical and real. Some of the maps even have inscriptions on them denoting areas of interest, which I deduce were scribbled by the explorers themselves and add a splash of sociological interest.

As for the factual errors, in some cases this might be down to an understandable lack of knowledge (being that back in the “olden days” photographic and/or cartographic equipment was either non-existent or plainly not as accurate as what we are lucky enough to enjoy in the modern era). However, in many cases the inaccuracies appear to be of a much more Machiavellian nature. Often the country of origin appears much bigger than it really is (presumably for the purpose of intimidation or revelling in national pride) and frequently includes a plethora of desirable commodities amongst the typically lush and vitally reproduced landscapes (perhaps a veiled attempt to gloatingly cock a snook at the visiting lords of neighbouring lands?)

When viewed in this light, the purpose of maps in bygone ages becomes increasingly clear. They were not merely there to educate, interest or entertain - some were political tools, drawn for the purpose of war; either to wage it or to prevent others from waging it on them.

Amongst the more traditional maps, hang intricately woven tapestries. These, certainly worthy of prominence as status symbols, can easily be pictured hanging in the studies or great halls of rich noblemen, specifically those which designate huge tracks of land to a single family. I was delighted to recognise, on one of these gargantuan embroideries, the village of Great Bedwyn were my partner’s family live and the nearby town of Marlborough where I myself went to school.

By far my favourite piece in the entire collection is the map of London, drawn by Steven Walters. It is an illustration of astounding intricacy, depicting London as it if were a huge island, with the neighbouring towns represented as tiny isles, just off the coast of the vast capital body. If you don’t go to this exhibition for any other reason, then go purely for this. It’s definitely worth it. The detail is astonishing; I could have spent the entire day looking at just this and still not noted every feature.

So from “women can’t read maps' to a far more apt and satisfying quote. As Miguel de Cervantes wrote in Don Quixote: “Journey all over the universe in a map, without the expense and fatigue of travelling, without suffering the inconveniences of heat, cold, hunger, and thirst.”

For that is what you can do at the British Library, and you won’t only be traversing the world, but time as well. And, as an added bonus, you can always pop outside to the over priced café if you start to feel a bit too fatigued.