With this volume, Colin Dupont offers a breathtaking study of plans and maps drawn and illustrated by the sixteenth-century cartographer Jacques de Deventer at the request of Philipp II. Deventer made the oldest preserved cartographic representations of over 250 cities in the Spanish Netherlands and created a lasting legacy in the history of cartography with his thorough process of investigation. Overall, since their distribution in different repositories between 1800 and 1867, the plans have not changed place (appendix 2.) The Royal Library of Belgium has the largest number of loose leaves, with seventy-five plans. Sheets sold in 1859 are lost today. Some plans of Appingedam were sold to private parties. The atlas itself constitutes the second part of the collection, next to the loose leaves. It was found in the National Library of Spain, where it is still available for consultation. The plans are drawn in watercolor on vellum paper. The original language is Dutch, with some inscriptions in Latin.
The second volume consists of 139 pages, and 40 of them are left blank. The third volume has 190 pages with 30 left blank. They form an additional representation of the city and its nearest surroundings. Each book measures 44 x 20 cm. Inside, the plans have different shapes and sizes, some of them consisting of sheets that can be unfolded or folded. All are made of the same paper with a watermark in the shape of a bunch of grapes with letters. The first question asked by Dupont concerns the reason for the creation of this monumental work. Of course, the answer involves the intents of its sponsor, Philip II, a delicate issue since the initial order addressed to the cartographer by the king remains unknown. But with this in mind, Dupont embarks on an intellectual journey to explain the different reasons for the atlas, the objectives, and the intentions behind the scenes. Dupont proceeds first to analyze the maps and the projects in the classical archives, and then discusses the maps since 1850—the time of the atlas's reappearance. To analyze the plans, Dupont uses a version of the digital thematic deconstruction, a tool that proposes to deconstruct a plan or a map by cutting it. This cutting is done from a high-quality digital reproduction of the original document. Each object extracted from the digitized document is classified into different thematic categories, allowing the reader to focus on distinct elements in a map. It is a technique of cartographic re-transcription.
Despite its advantages and potential for in-depth study, digital thematic deconstruction also has limits. The first is certainly the time that this technique requires to be implemented. Another concerns the statistics derived from it. One must be careful not to fall into a kind of statistical trap. Statistics can offer a feeling of security but, in fact, pose a problem: the figures might give researchers the impression that they are facing reality, a kind of derivative of positivism.
The role of the hinterland, the processes of representation, and the profile of the cartographer are thoroughly demonstrated in the book. All this material allows the reader to understand that, despite a disturbingly modern result, the collection needs to be examined as a political document, not as a simple military tool. The reevaluation of this atlas brings a great perspective to the history of the development of cartography in the sixteenth century. The originality of Dupont's approach lies in the laudable attempt to bridge the gap between socioeconomic and intellectual history. His in-depth study presents an excellent tool for contemporary historians, cartographers, and students of cartography.
