London: The Case of the Disappearing Map (SpiceLines)

Asiae Nova Descriptio (A New Description of Asia) was published by Abraham Ortelius in Antwerp in the late 16th or early 17th century. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons.

It was just within reach.

Every day I waited for the doorbell to ring. Like an anxious lover, I ran to answer the every trill of the phone. At night, I’d peek out the front door hoping to find a package perched on the front porch.

Mysteriously, it seems to have gone astray.

For eons I’ve yearned for a map from the golden age of exploration. One, oh, maybe four to five hundred years old, that depicted the mysterious lands of the newly emerging spice world . It wouldn’t show the spice routes—those would be found on battered navigation charts (or in the heads of camel drivers)—but India would be there, certainly the Moluccas, maybe even parts of Africa and China.

And I craved a sea monster or two, maybe a few cloves or a bundle of cinnamon, or at least a flotilla of merchant ships in full, billowing sail.

I knew the map might be yellow or worn, with faded color, if any, and tattered edges, but it would be real: a living document from the past, illustrating the known world at a moment in time.

This uncolored copy of Asiae Nova Descriptio is in the collection of Bryn Mawr College. To see an enlarged version, click here.

Well. I found such a map on New Bond Street in London. It was a fine copperplate engraving, colored by hand, and it showed the vast sweep of Asia and more, from Arabia Felix to Java Major and Minor and points in between. Topographical names were written in a jumble of Latin, Dutch, Italian and Spanish. And joy! I spied two tiny ships with striped sails, leaving the China coast for the long voyage across the Oceanus Eous (aka the Pacific).

Lust was in my heart.

The dealer explained that like most old maps, Asia Nova Descriptio came from an atlas—thus the centerfold and tiny stitch marks where the page was sewn into the spine—this one published in Antwerp between 1575 and 1612. The publisher was Abraham Ortelius, a prolific mapmaker of his time.

Abraham Ortelius (1527-1598), a Flemish geographer and cartographer, was the first to create an atlas in which all maps were uniform in size and style. Photo credit: Wikimedia Commons.

A few things about Ortelius: He began as a colorist, first buying up existing maps to color and sell, later simply for the pleasure of collecting them. But his passion for history, ancient and contemporary, and his friendship with geographers, scholars and cartographers ultimately led him to create his own maps of the world. His greatest project was the Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, a hugely popular atlas published in 30 editions and 7 languages between 1570 and 1641. It expanded from 53 to 160 beautifully engraved maps, with details changing as more became known about the shape of the world.

I wanted Asia Nova Descriptio, badly. My credit card shuddered, but I was in love. I saw that map lying across my desk. With a magnifying glass and glass of whiskey at hand, I would join a long line of armchair travelers, tracing the sinuous contours of the Mar de India and the curious island of Iapan. There was romance enough for many a lazy afternoon.

And that was the last time I saw it. The map has gone missing. It flew from London to Newark, was released by the FDA, released by Customs and then—returned to Customs where it disappeared into the maw of what I imagine to be a vast warehouse covering many city blocks. For two weeks, there’s been absolute silence.

What happened? Did someone leave the mailing tube in the rain? Spill a venti latte on it? Crush it on a conveyor belt? Or was there an alert about hazardous substances secreted in brown mailing tubes? Is mine one of 20,000 that have to be inspected?

Will I ever see you again? I’m waiting.